O PRINCETON, N. J. ^ 
 
 BL 181 .H8 1873 
 
 
 Huckin, H. R. 
 
 
 Dialogues founded 
 
 upon 
 
 Butler's analogy 
 
 of 
 
4f/.^ 
 
'^E\xt Jlmilogi) of ^digion. 
 
 DIALOGUES 
 
 rOIJNDED UPON 
 
 BUTLEE'S ANALOGY OF EELIGION. 
 
 Eev. h. R.'^HFCKIN, m.a. 
 
 FORMERLY FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD, 
 ONE OF THE MASTERS AT MERCHANT TAYLORS' SCHOOL. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHRISTIAN EVIDENCE COMMITTEE OF THE 
 OCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE ; 
 
 SOLD AT THE DEPOSITOKIES : 
 
 77, GEEAT QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS ; 
 
 4, EOYAL EXCHANGE; 48, PICCADILLY; 
 
 AND EY ALL BOOKSELLEES. 
 
 1873. 
 
The Christian Evidence Committee of the S.P.C.K., 
 while giving its general approval to the works of 
 the Christian Evidence Series, does not hold itself 
 responsible for every statement or every line of 
 argument. 
 
 The responsibility of each writer extends to his 
 own work onlyo 
 
^0 
 
 CONTENTS.^^^^. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface 5 
 
 iNTEODrCTION 13 
 
 fart t 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 On a Futuee Liee 25 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 On Rewards and Punishments . . . .63 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 On the Moral Goyeenment oe God . . .82 
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 On a State of Teial oe Probation . . . 120 
 
 DIALOGUE V. 
 
 On Life considered as a State of Moral Disci- 
 pline 141 
 
 DIALOGUE VI. 
 On the Doctrine of Necessity .... 171 
 
 DIALOGUE VII. 
 On the Government of God: a Scheme beyond 
 
 ouE Comprehension 205 
 
 A 2 
 
4 COXTENTS. 
 
 fart H. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 On the liiPOETANCE OF Chkistianitt . . . 225 
 
 DIALOGUE ir. 
 On Mieacles 247 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 On Objections to the Scheme of Christianity 270 
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 On Cheistianitt as a Sche^ie impeefectly coii- 
 
 PEEHENDED 294 
 
 DIALOGUE V. 
 On the Appointment of a Kedeemee and Me- 
 
 DIATOE 308 
 
 DIALOGUE YL 
 On the Want of Uniyeesality in Reyelation, 
 AND of the Supposed Deficiei>"cy in the 
 X Peoof of it 340 
 
 DIALOGUE VII. 
 Ox the Positiye Eyidence foe Ciieistianity . 378 
 
 DIALOGUE VIII. 
 
 On a Subjectiye Proof of Religion . . . 439 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 The history and design of this book may be 
 briefly stated. The great work of Bishop 
 Butler is now regarded with mixed feelings 
 by various writers. By some it is stigmatized 
 as obscure and unsatisfactory ; to others it 
 appears satisfactory, but still obscure. The 
 character thus assigned to the book has dimi- 
 nished the number of its readers. People are 
 under a reasonable apprehension, that it is 
 mere waste of time to study what is obscure, 
 when the same can be found clearly expressed 
 elsewhere. This, however, is much to be re- 
 gretted : for no writer has combined, in greater 
 degree, philosophical acumen and judicial fair- 
 ness with a thoroughly religious tone of mind. 
 And no work can be found, stating so com- 
 pletely, yet concisely, the principal grounds 
 upon which natural and revealed reKgion 
 claim the obedience of mankind. 
 
 It must, however, be acknowledged, that the 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 charge of obscurity is not altogether ground- 
 less. The treatise is difficult; and, in some 
 places at least, the difficulty is increased by 
 defects of style. Yet it is a mistake to suppose 
 that the book could be made easy by simply 
 recasting the sentences and rearranging the 
 paragraphs. There is, as Bishop Butler truly 
 remarks, an intrinsic difficulty in the subject ; 
 and, if any student of Christian Evidences 
 expects to find a royal road to the solution of 
 the question, he will certainly be disappointed. 
 For, in the first place, the facts, to which 
 the inquiry appeals, are somewhat out of the 
 ordinary course of experience, or (to speak 
 more precisely) the aspect, under which they 
 are viewed, is not such as arrests a casual 
 inquirer. In the limited and somewhat selfish 
 estimate, which we form of passing events, our 
 tendency is to inquire into the probable conse- 
 quences to ourselves and to our fortunes of that 
 which we experience ; or, if from the nature 
 of the case, such considerations are excluded 
 (as, for example, in geological inquiries), we 
 are apt to content ourselves with a historical 
 survey of the past. But the point of view 
 adopted by the student of Christian evidences 
 is this : Do nature and the history of the world 
 furnish us with any evidences of design ? in 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 other words, How far are we justified in in- 
 ferring intention or ]purpose from tlie apparent 
 adaptation of means to ends ? 
 
 IN'ow this mode of regarding the facts of ex- 
 perience is not general. In some instances, 
 indeed, the design appears so obvious, that we 
 are constrained to observe it. In others, how- 
 ever, and these by far the most numerous, such 
 is our familiarity with the marvellous, that 
 it ceases to appear remarkable. The argu- 
 ment from design, resting upon ten thousand 
 apparently unimportant facts, requires the 
 mind to be forcibly directed to them before its 
 cogency is perceived. 
 
 It has been asserted, that in order to form 
 a scientific estimate of the importance of laiv in 
 the natural world, a special training is neces- 
 sary ; and hence it is argued that unscientific 
 men cannot have a correct idea of scientific 
 theories and scientific objections. Without 
 asserting that the uninstructed mind cannot 
 perceive signs of design, we maj^ fairly assume 
 that an intellect, unaccustomed to dwell upon 
 the almost endless traces of design in nature, is 
 by no means adequately trained for the system 
 and method of Bishop Butler ; much less fit is 
 he whose first principle is, that there shall be 
 no signs of design. 
 
8 PREFACE. 
 
 The constant references to this argument, 
 with which the Analogy abounds, are likely 
 to be little regarded by those who are not 
 familiar with the grounds on which it rests. 
 For Bishop Butler does not pause to prove 
 the principles on which he argues, but simply 
 assumes them. It is obvious, then, that they, 
 who reject the argument from design, cannot 
 obtain satisfaction from the treatise : they 
 will find it obscure, because it tacitly assumes 
 what they reject. And they, who are not 
 familiar with the details of this argument, will 
 find the method perplexing, because it takes 
 for granted what they have yet to learn. 
 
 Another source of obscurity should be men- 
 tioned. Bishop Butler scarcely ever mentions 
 the names of those against whose views he is 
 contending. In reading the Analogy for the 
 first time, we might imagine that the writer 
 was simply combating the difficulties which 
 had arisen in his own mind. Yet Butler was 
 a wide reader, as well as a profound thinker. 
 They, who are well acquainted with the litera- 
 ture of the seventeenth , and eighteenth cen- 
 turies, have observed that the Analogy bears 
 witness, in the refinements and intricacies of its 
 arguments, to corresponding refinements in pre- 
 ceding and contemporary writers. Thus it hap- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 pens, that, while combating a general principle, 
 he frequently pauses to limit his assertions, in 
 deference to what may have appeared to him 
 a fair objection on the other side. To a similar 
 cause may be assigned the apparent eccen- 
 tricit}^ of method, which marks some portion of 
 the Second Part of the Analogy, in which he 
 passes suddenly from speculative to practical 
 considerations, and argues against those who 
 treat religion with levity and ribaldry. 
 
 These defects, if they are to be reckoned 
 such, have led to the reproduction of the 
 Analogy in its present form. The object of 
 the writer has been to maintain, as far as pos- 
 sible, the order and method of the original ; 
 and, at the same time, to connect together, hj 
 more obvious links of reasoning, those parts 
 which labour under the obscurities here spe- 
 cified. The Dialogistic form suggested itself, as 
 best adapted to draw out, in natural sequence, 
 the various points as they arise. In this 
 attempt the writer is conscious that his famili- 
 arity with the original has proved a draw^back, 
 inasmuch as he is aware that many points, 
 which appear to him simple and obvious, may 
 present a very different aspect to others. But 
 he was compelled to choose between a prolixity 
 which might render the book repulsive, and a 
 
10 PREFACE. 
 
 conciseness which might leave it obscure. And 
 where the meaning of his author is not trans- 
 parently clear, he has, after much anxious 
 thought, preferred to confine himself to what 
 appears to him to be the intention of the 
 original treatise. 
 
 The great development of scientific investi- 
 gations during the last half century has opened 
 many questions, of which the age of Bishop 
 Butler knew but little. With great diffidence 
 the present writer has, in a few places, intro- 
 duced this new matter into the work. It was 
 indeed impossible to avoid reference to these 
 questions. To discuss them fully is the work 
 of a lifetime, and to view them in their bear- 
 ings on religion forms one of the most vital 
 duties of Theologians in these our days. In a 
 work like this, they can receive only a passing 
 notice ; and such a treatment must be but par- 
 tially satisfactory to those who consider that 
 they are reconcilable with the Christian Scheme, 
 and to those vrho see in them a subversion of 
 our faith. The writer will here only express 
 his conviction that the works of God cannot 
 be at variance with one another ; and that, 
 could we comprehend the whole of His pur- 
 pose, we should find no contradiction between 
 Science and the Christian Religion. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 11 
 
 Once more : the salient points of Biblical 
 criticism have in one place entered into the 
 discussion. The few lines, which could be 
 devoted to a matter of intense importance and 
 much difficulty, obviously express most imper- 
 fectly the bearings of the question. Still the 
 writer hopes that he has not asserted anything 
 which transgresses the laws of fair criticism, 
 nor weakened the cause vfhich he has at heart, 
 by omitting what might have been introduced 
 within the limits prescribed. 
 
 It is necessary here to observe that, in the 
 course of the discussion, opinions are expressed 
 and concessions made, which, under the cir- 
 cumstances supposed, were unavoidable. It 
 may occur to some that these concessions 
 should have been withheld ; that the dignity 
 of the Gospel history has been injured ; 
 that inspiration has been too slightly insisted 
 upon ; that some vital truths appear to be 
 impugned. But it must be remembered that 
 in such a discussion the disputants must meet 
 upon some common ground, consequently many 
 points, which to the writer appear legitimate 
 and inevitable inferences, so soon as the Gospel 
 scheme is acknowledged, are held in abeyance 
 while that scheme is itself in question. With- 
 out such concessions the whole discussion must 
 
J2 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 have degenerated into a mere formality, and 
 the progressive force of the argument would 
 have been entirely destroyed. 
 
 The matter of the last dialogue is mainly 
 derived from Dr. Newman's Grammar of 
 Assent. The present writer desires to express 
 his deep obligation to that treatise. He read 
 it after the greater portion of this book was 
 prepared for the press : and his study of it has 
 tended to increase his sense of the imperfection 
 of his own work. He would ask those of his 
 readers, who desire to see how powerfully the 
 historical argument for Christianity can be 
 stated, to study the last two sections of Dr. 
 JSTewman's book. The portion here adapted 
 supplies an important element in the argu- 
 ment from analogy ; but the whole two 
 sections contain the most powerful contribu- 
 tion to the Christian Evidences, which the 
 present generation has produced. 
 
 London, 1873. 
 
r 
 
 
 inWoduction 
 
 Eational objections to Christianity emanate 
 from two sources, widely different in their 
 nature and principles. Some men satisfy them- 
 selves that the order of nature in no way im- 
 plies a God; they reject the arguments derived 
 from the appearance of design in the universe, 
 on the ground that the agency of a mind in 
 the operations of nature is an idea, based 
 upon an insufficient acquaintance with the 
 material universe : they argue that this idea 
 enters in, as explaining the laws of the universe, 
 only through ignorance or impatience; but 
 that were men content to accept only what was 
 experimentally proved, the progress of science 
 would soon convince them that the unhioim, 
 to which they give the name of God, is, not 
 improbably, to be discerned in the course of 
 time by scientific demonstration. The}^ refuse 
 to allow any weight whatever, however small, 
 to the almost universal consent of mankind, 
 or to the testimony of ancient times on this 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 point ; and they repudiate all arguments of an 
 abstract nature, under the title of metaphysical 
 refinements. Those who hold such a belief 
 are, in the strict sense of the word, Atheists. 
 The present treatise is not directly concerned 
 with them, although the main argument may, 
 perhaps, be extended so as to refute their 
 assertions. 
 
 The other class of objections assumes this 
 form. The belief in a God, the benevolent 
 and all- wise Author of the Universe, is acknow- 
 ledged to be reasonable. But the main doc- 
 trines or ideas, which stand prominent in 
 Christianity, are thought to be in conflict with 
 the true ideas of wisdom and benevolence 
 which are essential to the nature of God. 
 
 In consequence of this supposed conflict 
 between reason and the Christian religion, it 
 is not unusual to find men forming a system of 
 religion for themselves upon hypothesis; in 
 other words, they lay down certain principles, 
 which, they imagine, must of necessity guide 
 the Divine mind ; and when they find that the 
 Christian religion does not coincide with con- 
 clusions drawn from their principles, they are 
 ofi'ended at it. The plan upon which they 
 proceed is briefly this. 
 
 It is justly argued, that the only form of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 religious belief which a rational man can 
 accept_, is that which represents God regu- 
 lating the universe so as to produce the 
 greatest amount of good. Up to this point 
 the inquirer is thoroughly at one with the 
 Christian believer. But here the divergence 
 commences. The Christian believes that the 
 arrangement of the universe, which he perceives, 
 is on the ichole, in spite of many real difficulties 
 and apparent contradictions of the law of 
 benevolence, the he&t pomihle. He acknowledges 
 that there are difficulties, but he considers that 
 these are only apparent, arising from his in- 
 ability to comprehend at once the whole of the 
 past, present, and future ages of the world, 
 or to see how the general well-being of the 
 whole may be promoted by the suffering of a 
 part. He sees that the principles, which in 
 one age reign among men, are often repudiated 
 with abhorrence in another, and this from an 
 increase of knowledge and enlightenment ; and 
 he draws the inference that, were the eye of 
 his mind as clear, and its range of vision as 
 extensive, as he hopes it may be at some future 
 time, he would be able to recognize in the 
 order of the universe such signs of wisdom and 
 benevolence as are worthy of a God perfectly 
 wise and o:ood. 
 
16 INTEODUCTIOX. 
 
 This is the course adopted by the Christian, 
 and may fairly be described as of the essence of 
 Christianity. The objection levelled against it 
 is, that it leaves many things doubtful, which 
 the reason induces men to attempt to solve, 
 and that it requires men to acquiesce in some 
 conceptions of the Divine government which 
 seem to contradict the Divine attributes. 
 Another charge which is brought against it_, 
 of sanctioning, at least in principle, all the 
 vain imaginations which have found shelter 
 under its protection, may be passed over with 
 one remark. The truth of a principle is not 
 impugned, because it has been abused, or 
 exaggerated, or misapplied. 
 
 But the former objection to the Christian 
 religion deserves our attention. It may be 
 fairly asked. If the Christian scheme is de- 
 fective, what substitute do the objectors pro- 
 pose ? This is a fair demand as regards them, for 
 they start with assuming the existence of such 
 a God, as, even by their admission. Christians 
 theoretically confess to be the object of their 
 worship ; and, assuming such a God, they are 
 bound by their principles to define his manner 
 of icorking. As a matter of fact, some do not 
 acknowledge this obligation, but are satisfied 
 with criticizing. Others, however, are more 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 logical and candid. They are ready to define 
 their notions of the agency of a Supreme 
 Being. And their description amounts to this. 
 Their reflections upon the nature of God lead 
 to the belief that He will govern the world 
 after the most perfect manner. What that 
 perfect manner is, it remains to determine ; and 
 it appears that the following scheme, more or 
 less consistently held to, is the ordinary result. 
 
 A perfect being must be perfect in his 
 operations. A perfectly Holy Being must love 
 perfect JwUness, and promote it among His 
 creatures. A perfectly loving being must show 
 mercy to all, of whatever character. Com- 
 bining these principles, the cl priori or ideal 
 theory of religion presents us with the follow- 
 ing astonishing results. 
 
 God must have made all creatures as perfect 
 and as happy as they are capable of being; 
 it is not possible that He should put them in 
 positions of hazard or danger, where the}?- may 
 probably, or even possibly, fall ; or at all events, 
 if He does allow them to be tempted. He will 
 effectually provide for each person acting 
 rightly, and so as to promote the general 
 happiness; no difficult matter, it is thought, 
 for Infinite power to effect, for it is perfectly 
 easy to establish in each person principles 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 strong enough to prevent wrong-doing, or to 
 S9t before the mind, on each occasion, motives 
 on the side of virtue, strong enough to counter- 
 balance all temptations on the other side. The 
 idea of a moral government carried on by 
 re wards and punishments is rejected, as being 
 a circuitous way of bringing about the desired 
 result, and is thought to contradict the great 
 principle of benevolence, which requires as its 
 end the happiness of all. 
 
 This is a general sketch of the principles 
 which, in more or less completeness, underlie 
 the religion of reason. The degree of assent 
 which they receive is exactly measured by the 
 divergence, on the part of those who receive 
 them, from the principles of Christianit5^ 
 
 What is remarkable about these speculations 
 is, that they are founded on ideas which the 
 most rigid believer accepts. That men are 
 created to act virtuously, and that the object of 
 their Creator is to produce as great an amount 
 of happiness as possible, and that these two 
 objects coincide, is confessed on all sides. There 
 is no ground in the Christian religion (how- 
 ever much some of its adherents perversely 
 assert the contrary) for the belief, that God 
 intends or putyoses the misery of any created 
 being. It should be borne in mind that the 
 
INTRODUCTIOX. 19 
 
 doctrines of a religion, and tlie opinions of a 
 portion of those who profess it, are by no means 
 necessarily the same. 
 
 That God is Love is the foundation of the 
 Christian faith ; but the exact manner in which 
 that Love works its way, the agents which it 
 employs, and the means by which it effects 
 results — with these the Christian confesses him- 
 self to be only partially acquainted ; and the 
 result is that divergence of opinion which has 
 been here exhibited. 
 
 But it may be asked, Is there not any com- 
 mon ground upon which the Christian, and the 
 believer in God, who is not a Christian, may 
 meet in order to test the respective merits of 
 their creeds ? There is such a ground ; and it 
 is not a little curious that the Christian should 
 appeal for the corroboration of his belief to a 
 source of information which he is generally 
 supposed to avoid. That ground is ex2)crience. 
 The Christian invites his opponent to submit 
 their respective creeds to the test oi facts. 
 
 The form which this argument will take ma}' 
 be stated very briefly. If the universe and all 
 that it contains is the work of God, then we 
 may expect to find, in the various parts of it, 
 signs of unity of origin. A comparison of 
 various portions of the system of the world will 
 B 2 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 probably give evidence, by marks strongly or 
 slio-htly defined, of the workings of one un- 
 divided mind. It may indeed be difficult m 
 places to trace this unity of design ; but tbis 
 may be, and, as we shall see, probably is, be- 
 cause we have not sufficient facts to judge b}^ 
 or have not sufficiently examined those facts 
 which we possess. 
 
 But if, upon the whole, there is sufficient 
 resemblance between the workings of the phy- 
 sical side of nature and its moral aspect, and, 
 again, between the moral system, which the 
 nature of man appears to indicate, and that 
 system which we call religion, to form a pre- 
 sumption that they both spring from one com- 
 mon origin, we shall be supplied with the 
 following chain of argument. 
 
 Nature exists as ^fact Eeligion also exists 
 as a fact, whether it is a fact in accordance 
 with reason or no. Morality, or the laws of 
 human conduct, also exists as o^fact. Are these 
 three independent, or have they any connexion 
 with each other ? If they have no connexion, 
 we should expect not to find any broad or 
 general similarities, however we might some- 
 times be able to illustrate one from the other. 
 But if there are any grand systematic resem- 
 blances between these three facts, we may infer, 
 
INTRODUCTIOX. 21 
 
 with more or less probability, the truth of that 
 which is more abstruse from that which is 
 plainer and more evident to our faculties. 
 And this presumption will be strengthened 
 by the following considerations. Suppose we 
 meet with a point or doctrine in religion dif- 
 ficult to comprehend or believe, such as the 
 government of the world by rewards and 
 punishments, we may appeal to the facts of 
 history. There we find that " perhaps the one 
 and only scientific conclusion which can be 
 drawn is, that in the long run it is well with 
 the good, in the long run it is ill with the bad." 
 That is, the natural government over man 
 points to such a law as religion states to be the 
 principle of the Divine mind. So that even the 
 difficulties which are thought overwhelming, 
 may occasionally be found to be the strongest 
 arguments for the truth of religion. 
 
 This mode of reasoning is natural and proper. 
 It is the plan which we should have adopted, if 
 the Christian religion had proclaimed only one 
 fact, that men are immortal. As soon as that 
 fact is certified or rendered probable, it at once 
 introduces the thoughts into a field of infinite 
 contemplation. It opens questions as to the 
 relation of the present to a future life. We can 
 hardly imagine that, if the soul is immortal, 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 its progressive existence here, its growth in 
 knowledge and experience, all the minute in- 
 fluences that day by day and hour by hour are 
 at work to influence it, will go for nothing. 
 To a person with this amount of knowledge, 
 and this only, it becomes essential to discover 
 some mode of reasoning by which he may re- 
 solve some of his difiiculties. The obvious 
 course is to apply the facts of his own ex- 
 perience, and those of the collective experience 
 of mankind, to the question. 
 
 Now, in deciding upon the events of his own 
 life, he would doubtless prefer to have absolute 
 certaint}^ Probably all people at the outset 
 expect to attain scientific certainty in practical 
 matters. A very little experience assures them 
 that they cannot. They are forced to put up 
 with presumptions. It is the very condition of 
 their existence. They wish for absolute assur- 
 ance ; they can only have probability. If they 
 wait till they are absolutely certain, they will 
 cease to act at all. What we call certainty is 
 after all only a strong presumption. This is 
 abundantly evident in matters of practice. No 
 one in entering upon any course of action can 
 be sure as to the result. All that he can know 
 is that, if he makes due allowance for probable 
 contingencies, he is likely to succeed in what 
 
INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 he undertakes. In order to estimate these con- 
 tingencies he compares one thing with another. 
 He sees what are the points of resemblance ; 
 and if he sees that probabilities are in his 
 favour, he will act. 
 
 In questions of science men are able to sus- 
 pend their judgments. They may be content 
 to pass out of life in doubt as to their con- 
 clusions ; but, as a rule, they will convince 
 themselves on one side or the other. But, after 
 all, their conviction amounts only to this, that 
 the probabilities on one side are very strong. 
 We may be satisfied that the sun will rise to- 
 morrow, even though we do not see it ; and we 
 are justified in so thinking. Still our only 
 ground for this certainty is that it has done so 
 always before — a fact, to which the universal 
 testimony of mankind bears witness. And we 
 have learned to look upon this as absolutely 
 certain. Still it is only from a comparison of 
 circumstances similar in what, as far as we 
 know, are their essential features that we have 
 arrived at this conclusion. 
 
 Probability, therefore, which is the guide of 
 life, is the result of a comparison of things like 
 one another. In proportion as they resemble 
 each other we are justified in expecting similar 
 results. In thus arguing, as we do every day, 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 we are, unconsciously to ourselves, arguing from 
 analogy. 
 
 The analogy of religion is the resemblance 
 between nature, supposed to be the work of an 
 intelligent Creator, and religion, which is as- 
 serted to be a revelation from the same source. 
 And, in arguing from one of these to the other, 
 we meet with numerous points of likeness, some 
 more, some less complete. Taken all together 
 they form a powerful chain of argument, 
 amply sufficient to justify men in acting as if 
 religion were absolutely and incontrovertibly 
 true. There will be found to be similarities 
 so great as, taken by themselves, to make the 
 scheme of the Christian religion probable, and 
 extremely like the truth. Some points will 
 undoubtedly remain obscure; and we could 
 scarcely expect it to be otherwise in a subject 
 which confessedly deals with matters to a great 
 extent beyond the regions of ordinary ex- 
 perience. But it should be borne in mind that, 
 if religion be even possiblj^ true, it is incom- 
 parably the most important practical subject 
 which can present itself. And it is a point of 
 practical prudence not to require, in a practical 
 subject, arguments more convincing than those 
 with which we are willing to be content in 
 matters of less importance. 
 
D I AL G U E S-^^ ^'i.^i o'^ ^*^- 
 
 FOUNDED UPON 
 
 ^il. 
 
 BUTLBE'S ANALOGY. 
 
 iart I. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 A. I HAVE been, for a long time past, turning 
 over in my own mind the question, Are we 
 immortal beings ? It is a point of such 
 vital importance, that I feel there can be no 
 happiness for me until I can resolve my doubts 
 on this matter. I would willingly believe it, if 
 I could. Could I once be satisfied that I am to 
 live after my death, I should feel the cares and 
 trials of this life much more tolerable ; but my 
 reason refuses to be persuaded, and the argu- 
 ments against my immortality seem to be 
 irresistible. 
 
 B, I am sorry to hear you speak in this 
 manner, and as I quite agree with j^ou, that 
 
26 DIALOGUE ON A FUTUKE LIFE. 
 
 the belief which you desire to hold on this 
 subject is of the utmost importance in enabling 
 us to shape our course through life, and is 
 calculated to make the ills of life, when they 
 befall us, much more tolerable, I should very 
 much like to hear w^hat are the difficulties to 
 which you refer. Perhaps, if you will state 
 them to me, I may be able to render you the 
 assistance of my own reflections in resolving 
 some of them. But, before you do so, will you 
 answer me this question ? — What kind of con- 
 viction do you desire ? 
 
 A. I should wish to have an absolute cer- 
 tainty upon the matter. 
 
 B. When you are called upon to act in a 
 matter of business, do you wait for absolute 
 certainty before you act, or are you satisfied if 
 the reasons for acting in one way are stronger 
 than those which point to the opposite course ? 
 
 A. I confess that I am usually compelled to 
 be satisfied with the latter. 
 
 B. If the matter is one of very vast im- 
 portance, should you decline to act at all upon 
 such a presumption ? 
 
 A' ^o ; but at the same time I should be 
 extremely cautious how I decided. I should 
 require stronger inducements to act, in propor- 
 tion to the importance of the question at issue. 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 27 
 
 B. Yery true ; but suppose the question were 
 of this nature. If by adopting one course 
 there were a possibility of your attaining a 
 great advantage, and by adopting the other 
 you would be placed in possession of a very 
 much smaller one, would you not in reason be 
 in a way compelled to adopt the one which 
 promised the greater advantage ? 
 
 A. Certainly. 
 
 B. Now let us suppose two courses of action 
 set before you, and that in neither of them you 
 could attain absolute certainty as to the result ; 
 but that the one offered as its possible result 
 incalculable gain, the other enormous loss ; if 
 you were compelled to adopt one or the other, 
 and no middle course were open, would you 
 not desire to act upon even a slight probability 
 in favour of the one which promised such 
 extensive advantages, or should you require 
 absolute certainty before you decided to act ? 
 
 A. Of course, if I saw the least probability 
 in favour of the former course of action, I 
 should unhesitatingly adopt it. 
 
 B. So, then, if there is a probability that 
 you are an immortal being, you would live 
 with regard to your immortal existence rather 
 than look only to the immediate present ? 
 
 A. I should. 
 
28 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 B, If, tlien, I can show you that the objections 
 which are raised against the doctrine of immor- 
 tality are not so strong, even in a very small 
 degree, as the argument in favour of that 
 doctrine, you would confess yourself compelled 
 to believe yourself immortal ? 
 
 A. I admit it. 
 
 B. We agree, then, that this is a question of 
 probability, even as almost all practical matters 
 are. Will you now tell me why you think 
 that you are not immortal ? 
 
 A. I see all living things subject to death : 
 plants — animals— men. They live for a certain 
 time ; after a certain number of years, or days, 
 or minutes, they cease to flourish. Plants 
 wither, animals lose their faculties of sense and 
 perception, which grow weaker and weaker, 
 and at last vanish altogether. The body ceases 
 to live and decays, and passes away into dust. 
 This appears to be the law of nature. What 
 reason have I for inferring otherwise with 
 respect to myself? If I am to argue from what 
 I see around me — and I know not what else 
 there is from which I may argue—it appears 
 certain to me that, like all other creatures, I 
 must perish at my appointed time. 
 
 B. Let me ask you what you mean by 
 " yourself." Do you mean your body, or do 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 29 
 
 you mean something which is not your body, 
 but invisible ? 
 
 A. It ajDpears to me that I mean both. To 
 identify myself I must take in the idea of both 
 these. 
 
 B. Does not science make plain, that the body 
 is in a perpetual state of change and decay ? 
 Do not the elementary components of blood and 
 bone continually alter, so much that it has 
 been said, on a rough estimate, that none of 
 the tissues of the body, as it now exists, are 
 the same as they were seven years ago ? 
 
 A. I believe it is so. 
 
 B. Is the body the same as it was seven 
 years ago ? 
 
 A. It appears not. 
 
 JB. Are you the same that you were seven 
 years ago ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly I am. I know and am 
 sure that I am not some one else. 
 
 jB. Are you quite sure that you have not 
 been unconsciously changed into another per- 
 son ? 
 
 A. I am quite sure of this. I have a com- 
 plete memory of things which occurred to me 
 in childhood, and I can entirely identify myself 
 with what I was then. I feel indeed that my 
 mind has developed, and that in that sense I am 
 
30 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 altered from what I was. But while I know 
 that my body has entirely lost its original tissue, 
 I know also that I myself am the same that I 
 always was. 
 
 B. Does not this make it evident that, when 
 you speak of yourself, you do not mean your 
 body, but something different from your body, 
 whatever that may be ? 
 
 A. It seems so. 
 
 B. Well, then, bearing in mind that what 
 constitutes each man's self is something dif- 
 ferent from his body, let us return to the 
 question of a future existence. You say that 
 death, which all creatures undergo, seems to be 
 an end of them. Suppose you had never wit- 
 nessed a death, or heard of it, I suppose you 
 would not expect to die yourself? 
 
 A. Assuredly not. 
 
 B. If you had only seen that children grow 
 by degrees into maturity, that they pass from 
 utter helplessness into full vigour, would you 
 say that it was a law of the human race, that 
 the same persons should exist with greatly 
 different powers and capacities of thought, 
 enjo}Tiient, and suffering, at different periods 
 in their life ? 
 
 A. This is self-evident. 
 
 B. And does not the same law extend to 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 31 
 
 other species ? Do we not see grubs turn into 
 butterflies, worms become flies, birds emerge 
 from eggs ? And is not the change between the 
 conditions, circumstances, and mode of life, quite 
 as great in some of these cases, as it is possible 
 to imagine ? 
 
 A. I think it is. 
 
 B. Well, then, putting any ideas of death 
 out of the question, would not the order of 
 nature lead us to argue that we too might, and 
 (death being unknown) probably would, live 
 in a state of existence as difierent from the 
 present as any of those to which we have 
 referred ? 
 
 A. Perhaps so; I am not sure. Possibly we 
 are now in the last stage of existence, and, like 
 the butterflies of which you speak, shall come 
 to an end as they do. 
 
 B. How do you know that they come to an 
 end? That is an assumption. Do you not 
 see that you are now not reasoning, but de- 
 pending upon j^our imagination ? But you 
 have just now stated that you wished for 
 certainty ; and to obtain this you must not 
 allow your imagination to run away with you. 
 But, leaving this, let me ask you another 
 question. If our bodies are not ourselves, what 
 will you dignify with that title ? 
 
32 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 A. I suppose, the mind. 
 
 B. That is so indefinite a word, that I should 
 be glad if you will make it clear what you 
 denote by it. 
 
 A. Well, on reflection, I think what I mean 
 by m?/self is that part of me, whatever it is, 
 which leads me to act, and by which I am 
 conscious of happiness or misery. 
 
 B. Unfortunately this is still indefinite. Yet 
 I believe you will find it difficult to get a 
 clearer definition. We agree, then, that by our 
 capacities for action, for enjoyment, and for 
 sufiering, we are made acquainted with what 
 we call ourselves. 
 
 A. I grant it. 
 
 B. These faculties are ours before death; 
 therefore we shall probably possess them, after 
 death. 
 
 A. How ? By what reasoning will you esta- 
 blish such an extraordinary assertion ? 
 
 B. It is by no means extraordinary. Why 
 do you suppose the sun will rise to-morrow ? 
 Why do you think that to-morrow will be as 
 to-day ? 
 
 A. Because it has been so, as far as our ex- 
 perience and the records of history convey us ; 
 and we are assured that the course of nature is 
 uniform. On this principle only are we justi- 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 33 
 
 fied in believing that anything whatever will 
 continue to exist a moment hence. 
 
 JB. Most true ; and therefore I assert that, 
 because we possess these powers of acting, en- 
 joying, and suffering now, we shall possess 
 them afterwards. 
 
 A. But not so surely, if death is the destruc- 
 tion of such powers. 
 
 B. You mean, I presume, that it is probable 
 that death is the cause of their destruction, and 
 not that any other cause operates to destroy 
 them at the moment of death ? 
 
 A. I do not understand. 
 
 B. I mean this : — If at death these faculties 
 are destroyed, they are either destroyed by 
 death, or by something else acting at the 
 moment of death. ISTow, I ask you whether 
 you do not su23pose that death itself is the cause 
 of these powers perishing ? 
 
 A. Of course I mean, that death destroys 
 them. 
 
 Jj. If it could be shown that death certainly 
 was not the agent which destroyed these 
 powers, you would then feel a moral certainty 
 that they would not -gerish from any other cause 
 at death ? 
 
 A. I should. 
 
 B. And, I suppose, if it can be shown that 
 
 c 
 
34: DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 death is iwobahly not tlie destroyer of these 
 faculties, you will consider it prohahU that they 
 will not be annihilated at death ? 
 
 A. It appears that I must so consider it. 
 
 B. Why do you think that these faculties 
 will perish at death ? 
 
 A. Because at death they cease to exist. 
 
 B. Pardon me ; you should add, '^ as far as I 
 can see." 
 
 A. Of course I intended to convey that idea. 
 
 B. But you must recollect that most people 
 would understand you to mean that, because 
 you could not perceive them to operate, you 
 were therefore certain that they had perished. 
 ^PsTow, what is death ? All that you know about 
 it is that body, flesh, and bones disappear, and 
 are resolved into their constituent elements. 
 But is this any proof v/hatever that the facul- 
 ties of the mind are destroyed ? 
 
 A. I certainly thought it to be such. 
 
 B. l^ot unless you mean to assert that the 
 power of willing and of acting, and the capacity 
 of enjoyment and suffering, have their origin 
 simply and solely in these portions of elemen- 
 tar}^ matter so curiously compacted together, 
 which we call the hody. I am perfect^ aware 
 that there are people — and those, too, men of 
 learning and judgment — who profess to hold 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 35 
 
 this opinion. It is not difficult to understand 
 the principle upon which they are led to argue 
 in this manner ; but it is difficult — almost in- 
 explicable indeed— to understand how they can 
 allow themselves to be convinced by such 
 arguments. The principle upon which their 
 reasoning proceeds is simply this : — Whatever 
 knowledge the senses convey to them is capable 
 of being tested experimentally : with more or 
 less of certainty^ the information so acquired 
 can be tested and reduced to general laws. 
 That which impresses the senses is matter; 
 sometimes solid and easy to be perceived ; some- 
 times so refined, that the most delicate instru- 
 ments are required to assist the senses in per- 
 ceiving it. And hence it is concluded, that as 
 the efiects of matter, before the discovery of its 
 qualities and hidden operations, were falsely 
 attributed to some supernatural agency, so now 
 matter, and matter only, is the agent by 
 which all effects are produced ; that the most 
 refined thoughts, the most devoted and generous 
 actions, are simply identical with certain ope- 
 rations of matter ; that though this matter 
 appears in many cases to be quite unconscious, 
 yet if it be skilfully arranged, and mingled in 
 proper proportions, it will by such chemical 
 combination become conscious; and that, as 
 c 2 
 
36 DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 the various elements are more elaborately and 
 curiously compounded, additional degrees of 
 consciousness will of themselves arise. Further 
 than this, as the minuteness and complexity of 
 the structure increases, this consciousness in- 
 creases also. First, there is total insensibility, 
 without animation or life of any kind ; then, 
 comes something which we call life, which 
 consists only in the capacity of growing ; then, 
 as the complexity of the structure is increased, 
 we discern a power of motion ; at another 
 stage, motion is developed into a faculty of 
 perceiving outward objects, and receiving- 
 pleasure and pain from them ; in the next 
 place this complex arrangement of elements, 
 without sense, acquires a power of distinguish- 
 ing for itself wdiat is likely to give it pain or 
 pleasure, and of avoiding or seeking this ; and, 
 finally, it is developed into a being which not 
 only compares and chooses, but is capable of 
 loving and hating, of enduring sufferings, not 
 because they are necessar}^ but because it 
 appears to be right to endure them ; it acquires, 
 by a power inherent in itself, an admiration 
 for certain things which it calls honourable, or 
 beautiful, or virtuous. And these things must 
 in themselves be certain forms of matter ; 
 because, if there is nothing else but matter, 
 
DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 it is idle to talk of these ideas being any- 
 thing else but that which alone exists, viz., 
 matter. So that will, emotion, desire, are 
 nothing else but forms of matter. If matter 
 is the only thing which exists, there can be 
 no ideas which are not derived from forms of 
 matter. Now, the principle upon which this 
 reasoning proceeded was, as you remember, 
 that nothing is to be believed which cannot 
 experimentally be proved. But the great test 
 of experimental knowledge is that, in some 
 degree, at all events, the laws which have been 
 deduced hj observation should be capable of 
 being ajDplied to produce similar results. Has 
 science been able, in any — the smallest — degree, 
 to produce results at all justifying these con- 
 clusions ? Is there an instance of life or motion, 
 much less of thought or feeling, and still less 
 of any moral qualities, having been produced 
 by the aggregation or putting together of 
 elements ? If not, we are just in this position, 
 that we may as reasonably suppose such phe- 
 nomena to be the result of agencies totally 
 unlike those which we call material, as that 
 the}^ are produced by matter acting, we know 
 not how, upon itself. But this is a distinct 
 question by itself; and, though it must be 
 decided on its own merits, we will, with your 
 
38 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIEE. 
 
 leave, pass it by for the present, in tlie hope of 
 reverting to it at another time. This, I am led 
 to expect, you will allow me to clo, because your 
 difficult}^ as I understood it, was not whether 
 you had a soul, but whether that soul was 
 immortal, or likely to live after the death of 
 your body. Was it not so ? 
 
 A. It was so. Still, the point on which you 
 have touched is one of such moment, that I 
 shall hold you to your promise of reverting to it. 
 
 B. I will not fail you. For the present, 
 however, the issue is this : — Granting that soul 
 and body are distinct, is there any presumption 
 that, when the body ceases to live, the soul ceases 
 to be conscious ? You have stated it as your 
 belief that, if the soul does perish, its destruc- 
 tion must be the direct result of death, and 
 not of anything else which accompanies death. 
 Will you tell me what you imagine death to be ? 
 
 A. It is an unknown something, under the 
 influence of which the power of motion ceases, 
 warmth quits the body, the limbs and members 
 cease to be conscious, and after a while decay 
 ensues. 
 
 B. An unknown something! Is that your 
 definition of death ? You will not, I presume, 
 object to my changing the order of the words, 
 and calling it " something unknown "? 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 39 
 
 A. By all means, if you please. 
 JB. Can you tell me what it is that gives us 
 the power of feeling, thinking, and acting ? 
 
 A. I fear that I am quite in the dark on 
 this point. 
 
 B. Can you inform me upon what the power 
 of exercising these faculties depends? 
 
 ^. I do not think I can. 
 
 B. If you saw a stone at rest, would you say 
 that it could not be moved ? 
 
 ^. jN'o ; because I know that it could be 
 moved. 
 
 B. If it were to lie at rest, and be worn 
 away by the rain and wind and the yarious 
 influences of the atmosphere, and never move 
 from its place till it were dissolved into dust, 
 would you feel justified in saying that it never 
 could be moved ? or could you assert that, be- 
 cause it was firmly fixed on its foundation, the 
 power which could move it had ceased to exist ? 
 
 A. IN'o ; I could only say it was not in opera- 
 tion. 
 
 B. Now consider the case of death. It is 
 something unknown, as you have stated. When, 
 therefore, you see a body deprived of motion, 
 animation, and consciousness, all that you can 
 assert is, that that which had given it these 
 faculties or powers was in abej^ance. In the 
 
40 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 case of a swoon there is a temporary cessation 
 of these agencies. In the case of death the 
 cessation is perpetual, as far as you know. But, 
 after all, you have only arrived at this : that the 
 cause of these faculties has ceased to act. You 
 have no right to assume that it has ceased to 
 exist, unless indeed you are willing to he satis- 
 fied with the following form of reasoning : that 
 something unknown, viz., death, has annihi- 
 lated something else unknown^ viz., the cause 
 of sensation, action^, and thought ; which would ' 
 be to me a most strange and unsatisfactory 
 solution of the difiicult}- . 
 
 A. I fear you are quibbling and playing 
 with words. If your argument is valid, it leads 
 to the conclusion that I can know nothing at 
 all about the matter. 
 
 B. Perhaps it does. It seems, at all events, 
 to point to this : that arguments, based upon 
 experiment or observation, are not of any value 
 to prove or disprove things which are not sub- 
 ject to either form of inquiry. And the nature 
 of death is a question of this kind. 
 
 A. But may we not argue from observation 
 as to the effect of death ? 
 
 B. Certainly, if you can find any basis of 
 comparison between the sensible world and the 
 matter in question. But, try as you will, you 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 41 
 
 will find yourself utterly foiled in establishing 
 your argument, that death destroys the faculties 
 of living beings. That your senses fail to de- 
 tect their operation is true; but it is a pure 
 assumption that they cease to exist because you 
 cannot detect them. If you say it is imjmssibk 
 they should exist, that is an assertion which 
 you cannot substantiate. If you say that they 
 do not exist, because you cannot perceive them, 
 you are making the same kind of assertion as 
 if you were to declare that the planets are not 
 inhabited because you cannot see living creatures 
 moving in them. Perhaps the planets are not 
 inhabited, but the proof of this depends upon 
 arguments very different in their nature from 
 this mere assertion : physical laws may compel 
 us to admit this to be the case ; but no physical 
 laws can apply to that of which we confessedly 
 know nothing. 
 
 A. There appears to be something in what 
 
 you say. 
 
 B. And, moreover, if you wish to apply the 
 argument from observation, it will lead to this : 
 the wonderful development of the powers of the 
 mind which we observe, and which is frequently 
 not attended with correlative development of 
 the body, would lead us to infer that possibly 
 our powers may be capable of a further de- 
 
42 DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 velopment in another existence, when the bod}- 
 which, through its weakness, is more frequently 
 a hindrance than an aid, has been removed, or 
 changed and transformed into a more glorious 
 condition. 
 
 I dare not at present add to what I have 
 said an argument which to me seems the 
 strongest of all, but which to you would carry 
 no weight. I think I can trace signs of fore- 
 sight and design in the works of nature, and, 
 though I cannot expect you to admit it, yet I 
 will put it hypothetically. Suppose there were 
 design in the universe, and that all the appa- 
 rent coincidences which even you cannot deny, 
 by which this notion is strengthened in my 
 mind, were really proofs of design, then it 
 would be quite reasonable to infer that, as we 
 have gone through great changes and develop- 
 ments hitherto, and are yet, even the wisest of 
 us, far from having attained to the highest 
 possible jDcrfection, so we may probably con- 
 tinue to advance after our bodies have lost 
 their powers of ^sensation. 
 
 A. I cannot deny your inference, whatever I 
 may think of your hypothesis. 
 
 B. Let us proceed to some other considera- 
 tions. What do you mean by destruction ? 
 
 A. I mean the separation of something com- 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTUIIE LIFE. 43 
 
 pounded into its elements. Thus, when water 
 is decomposed into its constituent gases, I saj^ 
 that water is destroyed. 
 
 B. Could you destroy those constituent ele- 
 ments ? 
 
 A. l^o: they are proved to be indestructible, 
 being simple elements. 
 
 . B. So, then, that which is uncompounded is 
 indestructible. Is our consciousness simple or 
 compound ? 
 
 A, I cannot tell what you mean. 
 
 B. Can we suppose that what we call " our- 
 selves'' should be part of it here and part else- 
 where ? Can part of our proper selves be in 
 London and part in New York ? 
 
 A. That is impossible : for, if it were, we 
 might have different ideas, diametrically op- 
 posed, at the same time. 
 
 B. Our consciousness seems, therefore, to be 
 indivisible ; hence, by the argument, it is 
 indestructible. Our bodies may cease to be 
 actuated by it, but it cannot be destroyed. 
 
 A. This appears to be an old-fashioned meta- 
 physical argument, and carries no conviction to 
 my mind. 
 
 B. I did not expect it to convince you. Still 
 it is an argument of some kind or other, be the 
 value of it as small as you please. And, if it 
 
44 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 be true, it will follow that the body, which can 
 be broken tip and destroyed — which is, in fact, 
 perpetually being resolved into elements, while 
 we ourselves are, to say the leasts unconscious 
 of any change in our powers of perception and 
 of action — is only a portion of matter, incapable 
 of action except it be united with a living and 
 conscious power. That power appears to belong 
 to some impalpable being, which we call " our- 
 selves," and which, as far as we can judge at 
 all about it, appears to be simple, and therefore 
 indestructible. And the connexion between the 
 body and this unknown and invisible existence, 
 though it is more intimate, is no more necessary 
 than is my connexion with the chair upon 
 which I sit. If I stand up I am no longer 
 connected with the chair. And if my limbs 
 cease to act and to obey m}' will, or even to be 
 under its influence at all, the most that can be 
 said with certainty is that the connexion be- 
 tween the will which moves and the body which 
 is moved exists no longer. 
 
 A. If 5^ou are right, science is wrong, and 
 misleads its followers. 
 
 B. Not so in the least. Follow scientific 
 processes, and you will arrive at scientific re- 
 sults. Bring imagination into play, as those 
 most assuredly do who perceive in the motion 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 45 
 
 of a muscle or a fibre the reality of a thought 
 and an emotion, and you destroy science by the 
 abuse of its processes. All that I ask of you at 
 present is not to deny the possibility of mind 
 and matter being distinct, and to see how the 
 results thence deduced receive any light from 
 the rest of nature. 
 
 A. I will endeavour to do so ; but still I 
 wish you w^ould furnish me with some more 
 special reasons for admitting so much as I here 
 concede. 
 
 JB. Supposing that each man's ''self" is 
 material, how large do you think that portion 
 of matter, which constitutes that " self," will 
 be? 
 
 A. I cannot possibly tell. 
 
 B, You cannot, I presume, then, possibly tell 
 whether it is larger than the chemical atoms, 
 which Dalton's law assumes to exist ? 
 
 A. I cannot. 
 
 JB. Can you tell where it is seated ? 
 
 A. I cannot. 
 
 Ij. Is it in the brain or the heart? for it 
 would seem it might be in either, because an 
 injury to either destroys the e\ddence of its 
 existence, and therefore in your view destroys 
 its actual existence. 
 
 A. It would appear that it resides in both. 
 
46 DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 B. It must be a very large portion of matter, 
 then? 
 
 A. Of course it is : it is tlie whole human 
 body. 
 
 B. Pardon me, it cannot be that ; because 
 we know a large portion of the body may 
 perish, as arms and legs, and yet the man's 
 self be unaltered. 
 
 A. I was mistaken ; it is the vital organs. 
 
 B. Literally translated, that is, the organs 
 which contain life. I can only admire the 
 ingenuousness of the definition, ''Life exists 
 in those members wherein life resides.^' But, 
 though your logic is not good, I will pass it hy. 
 Tell me in what organs our life resides ; for, 
 though life is not altogether to my mind syno- 
 nymous with consciousness — for, as far as we 
 can perceive, life may exist without the con- 
 sciousness of individual existence — still it will 
 be something to learn in what part of us life 
 resides, and how large ourself, supposed a por- 
 tion of matter, must really be. To make the 
 reasoning clearer, tell me, Is all the heart 
 necessary for life ? If it is a vital organ, then 
 by what you have just said it must be. 
 
 A. In one sense it is necessary that the 
 heart shoidd be entire in order that life should 
 exist, for I am not aware that life has been 
 
DIALOGUE 02s A FUTURE LIFE. 47 
 
 discovered in any vertebrate animal of which a 
 portion of the heart is destroyed. But, on the 
 other hand, I cannot deny that some portion 
 of the heart may become inoperative, and yet 
 the reason and the will be unimpaired. 
 
 B. Am I to understand that some portion of 
 the heart is more necessary to life than the 
 others ? 
 
 A. Assuredly. 
 
 B. Well, then, as we have been compelled 
 to give up some portion of the body as not 
 necessary to consciousness, such as the limbs, 
 so now we must allow that some portion of the 
 heart is not absolutely requisite. I mean that 
 we might conceive a jDerson existing and think- 
 ing without the operation of some portion of 
 his heart, and that, were it possible to remove 
 that inoperative portion, stiil existence v>^ould 
 continue. 
 
 A. We might conceive it to be so. 
 
 B. Might we also imagine the heart to be 
 uninjured, and yet consciousness not to exist ? 
 
 A. We have no need to imagine it, it is the 
 case ; for death may arise and jQi the heart bo 
 entire and free from disease. 
 
 B. Then surely the principle of life does not 
 reside in the heart. I suppose that we must look 
 for it elsewhere. Is it situate in the brain ? 
 
48 DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 A. I think it is. At all events, if the brain 
 be injured, consciousness ceases. 
 
 JB. Will injury to every part of the brain 
 destroy consciousness ? 
 
 A. 'No; but injury to some part of it will 
 have that effect. 
 
 B. Well, then, that portion must, according 
 to your idea, be the ''self" for which we are 
 seeking. 
 
 A. On reflection I cannot admit that ; for 
 death may come and yet the brain remain 
 intact. 
 
 B. If, then, neither heart nor brain is the 
 sole seat of life, it will be found to reside in 
 both, so that the self, regarded as a material 
 being, is placed in at least two portions of the 
 frame. If that is the case, the indivisible self 
 is made up of divisible elements ; and these 
 two portions of the self are as distinctly sepa- 
 rate, as if one were at New York and the other 
 in London. How comes it that they are never 
 at variance ? 
 
 A. Because they always, during life, natu- 
 rally operate upon one another. 
 
 B. And what causes them so to affect each 
 other? This action must necessarily proceed 
 from one to the other. 
 
 A. ISTot so : they act simultaneously. 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 49 
 
 B. If I understand you aright, consciousness 
 is a function of botli these. Will you inform 
 me what you mean by a function ? 
 
 A. I mean a necessary action pervading them 
 both. 
 
 B. Do you not see that you have introduced 
 another factor, if I may speak mathematical!}^, 
 and that factor is, after all, the point in dispute, 
 viz., life ? It is a " tertium quid,'' at once the 
 result and the cause of the action of the 
 various portions of the organism; so that, you 
 have only pushed the inquiry a stage back, and 
 are again involved in the same difficulty, viz., 
 that life is the result of an agency, of which 
 you can examine the results, but cannot define 
 the nature. However, suppose you were able 
 to analyze the organism completely, and at 
 last, b}^ a process of exclusion, discovered that 
 life depended upon a single element — an un- 
 compounded cell — what proof have you that 
 that cell — a particle so minute that the most 
 powerful microscope was unable to detect it — 
 ever loses its consciousness ? For anything 
 you know, it may exist and think, and have a 
 power of willing when the rest of the body is 
 reduced to dust. 
 
 A. It may possibly do so. 
 
 B, But let us leave this, and proceed to more 
 
 D 
 
50 DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 positive arguments. We liave seen that verj^ 
 much of our bodies may be destroyed and yet 
 our consciousness be unimpaired. Why should 
 we not argue that all of the matter of our body 
 may be destroyed in like manner, and yet con- 
 sciousness remain ? It is only following out 
 an argument supplied to us by experience. 
 Let me ask you what you suppose the sense of 
 sight to consist in ? Is it your eye which 
 sees? 
 
 A. 'No : my eye is only a complex lens so 
 arranged as to transmit rays of light. 
 
 B. In other words, your eye is an instrument 
 by which you see. Similarl}^, your tongue is 
 an instrument by which you taste ; your fin- 
 gers instruments by which you feel ; your 
 legs instruments by which you pass from place 
 to place. If you lost a leg, jou. could supply 
 its place by an artificial one. Is it not possible 
 that, if our knowledge were more extended, 
 other artificial instruments might be given us 
 to supply the natural members by which the 
 various functions of the body are performed ? 
 The truly marvellous inventions of science lead 
 to such a conclusion. This makes it plain that 
 a great portion of our bodies is only adventitious 
 matter, useful to us for various purposes, but 
 by no means absolutely necessary for us. 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LTFE. 51 
 
 A. You are drawing inferences too hastily. 
 It is quite true that, in the act of seeing, our 
 ej^es serve only as lenses, by which we are 
 made acquainted with the existence of external 
 matter ; but it is hj no means clear that arti- 
 ficial glasses could serve us in the place of eyes. 
 
 B. It is by no means necessary to my 
 argument that this should be proved ; all that 
 I intend is that, so far as we are able to trace 
 the action of our senses, the various members 
 serve us as instruments which present external 
 objects to our powers of perception. As far 
 as we can see, there is no ground what- 
 ever for imagining that the members of our 
 body perceive, in any other way than it may 
 be said, that glasses, which make clear objects 
 otherwise obscure, perceive. A telescope re- 
 veals to us the existence of stars, of which wo 
 know nothing by unassisted vision, and a 
 microscope opens our gaze to a world which is 
 absolutely concealed from natural eyesight. 
 And these are only instances of matter external 
 to us, affording knowledge of that which is con- 
 cealed from us. Suppose that a man born with 
 unimpaired vision loses it afterwards, that does 
 not deprive him of his consciousness, even 
 though it prevents him from acquiring any 
 further knowledge of the external world by 
 
52 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 the organs of vision. You must bear in mind 
 tliat we are not arguing to prove that our body 
 is unnecessary for the acquisition of knowledge, 
 but only to show that the bod}^ is not the 
 individual " self'' which constitutes the reality 
 of our existence. 
 
 A. But still, if you deprive a man of the 
 members of his body, he ceases to be possessed 
 of the faculties which those members impart. 
 
 B. Even there I think you are mistaken. 
 What do you say of the phenomena of dreams, 
 in which a man is often, in imagination, re-in- 
 stated in the possession of those faculties which 
 he has lost ? This is a plain proof that the 
 power of consciousness is not dependent upon 
 the actual possession of the limbs and members 
 by which he has gained his knowledge of 
 external things. 
 
 A. This does, in truth, seem to be an argu- 
 ment of some weight. 
 
 B. Again, the power of willing, which is the 
 distinctive possession of reasonable beings, does 
 not in any sense depend upon the possession of 
 limbs and members. A man with an artificial 
 leg, properly adapted, is able to move it, though 
 it is only dead matter, and entirely devoid of any 
 power of willing. And so, just as a microscope 
 and a stick are instruments, which we employ 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 53 
 
 for the exercise of our will, the body and its 
 members are likewise instruments, useful for 
 the attainment of the objects of our choice. 
 And there is no more reason to consider the 
 one as constituent elements of our conscious- 
 ness than the other. 
 
 A. But, granting this, I should infer from it 
 a result which you would not be willing to 
 concede. If these arguments lead us to con- 
 clude that we are immortal, we must also allow 
 that the lower animals, who are possessed of 
 like members, are also immortal and capable of 
 eternal happiness, for there is nothing here 
 asserted, which will not hold equally true of 
 other animals besides man. 
 
 B. Your objection does not appear to me to 
 be any difficulty. If by immortality you mean 
 simply a future existence, then I reply that 
 neither you nor I are competent to decide 
 whether, in another stage of existence, it might 
 not be in accordance with the econom}^ of 
 nature that there should exist creatures pos- 
 sessing faculties such as those which the brutes 
 now possess, without any capacity for rational 
 and moral action ; in other words, without any 
 consciousness of right and wrong, of what is 
 just, holy, and pure. If, on the other hand, 
 you mean to imply that the brutes would, in a 
 
54 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 future existence, have to develope into rational 
 and moral agents, then I answer that you 
 cannot tell what latent powers brutes are 
 possessed of. You have no ground whatever 
 for assuming that the lower animals might not 
 develope into higher forms of activity. Your own 
 science declares — without sufficient grounds, I 
 think, for the assertion — still it declares that 
 such a development is possible. A child 
 exhibits fewer symptoms of reason than some 
 of the maturer animals, and yet, if it live long 
 enough, it will, in all probability, attain to the 
 possession of faculties, quite incommensurate 
 with its attainments in infancy. As a general 
 rule, it is placed for years in a position where 
 its possible development in virtue and religion 
 receives little stimulus ; a large portion of the 
 human race actually die without having had an 
 opportunity of exercising their faculties in this 
 respect at all. It is therefore absurd to argue 
 from experience that animals may not live after 
 their death, and develope to degrees incon- 
 ceivable to us. And it is still more nugatory 
 to emplo}^ such an argument to disprove the 
 possibility of human beings living after their 
 death. 
 
 A. I am willing to allow that the objection 
 was inconsiderately urged. 
 
DIALOGUE ON A rUTURE LIFE. 00 
 
 B. I will forgive you, and, in return for your 
 candour, I will waive the ''argumentum ad 
 verecundiam" which I have urged. Suppose 
 that there were something in your objection, it 
 will not apply to the following considerations. 
 Can you not distinguish in man any qualities 
 not shared by the brutes ? 
 
 A. Yes ; I think I can. The brutes seem to 
 live by the senses and for the senses. They 
 seem to exist purely in a state of sensation, 
 being guided by their external senses, and 
 apparently incapable of any other emotions. 
 But man, though he, too, lives by sensation, 
 possesses also faculties of thought and reflection. 
 When the senses have conveyed impressions to 
 him, he appears to be capable of reflecting and 
 pondering upon the knowledge thus acquired, 
 without any reference to the means by which 
 he gained it. He seems to be able to abstract 
 himself from the things of sense, and to be 
 capable of deriving the most profound enjoy- 
 ment from the contemplation of impressions, 
 which are not sensations, but have been trans- 
 formed into realities away from the region of 
 the senses. 
 
 B. Is there any proof or ground to suppose 
 that the dissolution of our body is in an}^ way 
 connected with a corresponding destruction in 
 
56 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 our power of reflection? Are there not in- 
 stances of men, afflicted with a mortal disease, 
 who, in the very instant preceding death, are 
 known to be in possession of these powers to 
 their fullest extent ? And as it has been shown 
 that we cannot argue from the relation between 
 the body and conscious principle, that the 
 destruction of the one involves the annihilation 
 of the other, so we have reason to infer that, if 
 the faculties of reflection are unimpared, even 
 in the very instant preceding dissolution, they 
 will probably remain unafiected in the instant 
 succeeding death. There are cases when we 
 might suppose that the reflective powers were 
 ceasing to exist, as when men pass through 
 stages of drowsiness to a deep sleep, wherein all 
 the conscious faculties appear suspended; but 
 they revive when sleep departs, and hence 
 experience teaches us to reject our first impres- 
 sions. But here we have instances of their 
 continuing in full energy up to the moment of 
 death ; and, therefore, a fortiori, we have no 
 ground to believe them destroyed by death. 
 For what reason have we to imagine that the 
 reflective powers are destroyed, when, in the 
 very moment preceding death, men act and 
 think and speak, — when their afiections are in 
 fall play, — they are able to discern character. 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTUUE LIFE. 57 
 
 and take a deep interest in the topics wliich. 
 occupy the thoughts of those about them? 
 when, even to the last gasp, they are capable 
 of the highest mental enjoj^ment and suffering; 
 feelings of so intense a character that the}' are 
 a far stronger evidence of life than any amount 
 of bodily strength can possibly be. Why are 
 we to suppose that any disease will destroy the 
 reflective powers, when progressive disorders, 
 such as we refer to, do not in the least impair 
 them up to the moment when they become 
 mortal ? 
 
 A. But, even if it do not destroy them, it will 
 surely suspend them. 
 
 B. There is not the least presumption that it 
 will do so. The very fact of their existing in 
 full vigour up to a time when the body is on 
 the point of losing all sensation (as in the case 
 of Socrates, a large portion of whose body was 
 actually dead, while his mind was intensely 
 active ; and in that of others, especially those 
 who die of diseased heart), is a presumption 
 that they may continue to be in unimpeded 
 activity after sensation has ceased. Thus death 
 may supervene, and yet the mental energies 
 continue to be exercised. If, then, experience 
 cannot render us any reason for supposing that 
 the fact of death necessarily affects our powers 
 
58 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 of reflection, in the same way as it seems to 
 affect our powers of sensation, and if there are 
 instances of fatal diseases reaching a climax, 
 and yet not affecting in any degree the mental 
 activities, we have a presumption, that death 
 and the annihilation of our reflective powers 
 are not identical; we have also a probability 
 that those powers are not even impeded ; that 
 they continue in full energy, irrespective of the 
 operation of death upon the material frame. 
 
 And now I will ask you to pardon me, if I 
 follow out these reflections a little further. It 
 may seem to you that in what I am about to 
 say, I am transgressing my own canon about 
 yielding to imagination. The subsequent 
 course of our inquiry, if you will have patience 
 to follow it out, will, however, justify my 
 inferences. 
 
 Death may be to our present existence 
 what our birth into this world is to our state 
 of being previous to our birth. It may be a 
 continuation and a development of our present 
 life. Just as our birth introduces us into a 
 higher and more advanced state of life, so it is 
 possible that, when death comes upon us, we 
 may find ourselves released from various circum- 
 stances, which hinder our progress in know- 
 ledge and wisdom. The conditions of our 
 
DIALOGUE OX A FUTURE LIFE. 59 
 
 existence here, its wants and necessities, form 
 a material check upon our progress. We arc 
 limited in the sphere of our activity' ; we are 
 compelled to minister to the cravings of our 
 body ; we are subject to weariness and distress 
 and sorrow. These may possibly be altogether 
 removed, and all that impedes us here may 
 then be cleared away. The beauty of the 
 outward form indeed decays, just as the delicate 
 fibres and gorgeous clothing of the flowers of 
 the field pass away. But the analogy between 
 the two here ceases, for the flowers possess, so 
 far as we can see, no powers of will and per- 
 ception ; and this, which is the especial attri- 
 bute of man, renders the supposed analog}' 
 between the flowers and him imperfect. The 
 ground of all our argument is, that we have 
 capacities of perception and of action which 
 they do not enjoy ; and these, as we have seen, 
 are, as far as we can judge, not necessarily 
 afiected by death. 
 
 In our present life we live in society ; we 
 may possibly do so after death. The advan- 
 tages whicli v.'e here enjoy, depend in a great 
 measure upon the capricious action and opinion 
 of society. It ma}^, perhaps, be the blessing of 
 a future state to exist in the immediate pre- 
 sence of the Highest Intelligence, and to derive 
 
60 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 our happiness from Him ; yet that happiness 
 may come to us in a way altogether as natural 
 as it does now. The laws which regulate our 
 existence now are natural ; but who shall say 
 that they are the whole of nature ? The laws 
 of nature are only partially known to us. 
 There are conditions of existence in the world 
 which were unknown before the invention of 
 the microscope ; there are probably others 
 affecting millions of creatures which our senses 
 fail to detect. And it is as probable that there 
 are conditions of existence in higher spheres 
 undetected by us, as it is that there are planets 
 which we cannot perceive. Unless we are 
 ready to deny the latter, we have no right to 
 question the former. And since the impro- 
 bability of the existence of minute forms of life, 
 before the invention of the microscope, is now 
 seen to have been no valid argument against 
 their existence, so our ignorance of the exist- 
 ence of higher beings than man is no ground 
 for assuming that none such exist. And these 
 higher beings ma}^ correspond to what man 
 becomes after death. A veil may be removed 
 from their ej^es, and they may see clearly things 
 which to us are obscure ; they may apprehend 
 the reasons of things which to us are un- 
 intelligible; they may have a comprehensive 
 
DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 61 
 
 faculty of knowledge denied to us. And when 
 we consider how infinite is the ignorance of 
 the wisest men, how in proportion to the scope 
 of their knowledge they are ready to confess its 
 limitation, this probability becomes greatly 
 increased. 
 
 Thus I have endeavoured to remove one 
 stumbling-block which stands upon the very 
 threshold of religion. The doctrine of a future 
 life is a fundamental one ; without it religion is 
 inconceivable. The arguments which I have 
 urged are by no means demonstrative, but still 
 thc}^ may serve to show that a future existence 
 is not onl}^ not impossible — that it is even 
 probable. 
 
 A. You say one stumbling-block : are there 
 others ? 
 
 B. There are indeed. We may be immortal, 
 and yet not accountable beings ; we may live 
 now and hereafter, and yet that existence may 
 be conceived to impose upon us no duties or 
 obligations. Our future life may be imagined 
 as in no sense depending for good or evil upon 
 the present. Without a belief in immortality, 
 no man would be religious ; but men may 
 believe that they are never to be annihilated, 
 and yet pass careless, wretched, and godless 
 lives. If vou are inclined to continue our 
 
62 DIALOGUE ON A FUTURE LIFE. 
 
 conversation, I shall endeavour to prove by 
 similar arguments that the essential doctrines 
 of the Christian religion are in accordance with 
 the analogy of nature, and that the supposed 
 conclusive proofs against them will tell as 
 strongly against that visible course of nature, 
 which our eyes perceive and of which we can 
 have no doubt. 
 
ox REWARDS AXD PUNISHMENTS. 63 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 ON REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 
 
 A. After mucli careful tlioiiglit upon our last 
 conversation I am constrained to admit that 
 you have made out a probable case for a future 
 existence. But here a difficulty occurs. You 
 seem to assert that that future existence will be 
 a continuation of the present. If so, I should 
 infer that we shall go on thinking, gaining 
 experience, and changing as we do now. But 
 religion asserts that we shall in that future life 
 receive reward and punishment for what we 
 have\^done in our life on earth. This I cannot 
 believe. 
 
 B. Why can you not believe it ? 
 
 A. Because God is a merciful and good 
 Being ; and how can such a Being inflict 
 misery upon His creatures ? 
 
 B. If I understand you, you find a difficulty 
 in believing that God will punish any one? 
 
 A. Certainly. 
 
 B. Do you see that that implies that He will 
 not'reward any one ? 
 
64 DTALOrJUE ON 
 
 A. Pardon me : it is quite consistent with 
 my idea of God that He should reward, but 
 not that He should punish. 
 
 JB. The idea of rewarding implies that actions 
 are requited according to their deserts. Does 
 it not ? 
 
 A. It does. 
 
 JB. Do all actions in this life deserve reward ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. A murderer or a thief 
 deserves punishment. 
 
 1j. On what ground ? 
 
 A. Because he does wrong. 
 
 B. " "Wrong" is a very indefinite word. Will 
 you define your meaning ? 
 
 A. Well, then, because he injures society. 
 
 JB. Surely, then, if those who injure society 
 deserve punishment from society, those who 
 offend against the law of Infinite Goodness 
 deserve punishment from Infinite Goodness ? 
 
 A. They may deserve it ; but I cannot re- 
 concile it with the idea of Infinite Mercy that it 
 should inflict punishment. 
 
 JB. I am afraid we are dealing with abstract 
 arguments, and we agreed only to be guided by 
 facts. 
 
 A. But can you find any facts to help us ? 
 
 B. Let us try. You allow that there is a 
 Creator of all things ? 
 
HEWAKDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 65 
 
 A. Yes : that I have already conceded. 
 
 B. He is the Creator of men, and of the 
 conditions under which they exist. 
 
 A. He is. 
 
 B. Here, then, is a fact. A child is born into 
 the world ; as he grows he gains knowledge 
 and experience ; and among the objects pre- 
 sented to his experience is, we will say, fire. 
 What does he learn about fire ? 
 
 A. That it will warm him if he is at a safe 
 distance from it, and that it will burn him if he 
 goes too close to it. 
 
 B. Suppose he puts his hand into a candle, 
 what happens ? 
 
 A. Of course he suffers pain and is injured. 
 
 B. That is, the pain is a natural consequence 
 of his action. Suppose I say pain is the punish- 
 ment attached to such an action : should you 
 object to the word ? 
 
 A, Certainly: it is only a natural conse- 
 quence. 
 
 B. A natural consequence ! Do you mean a 
 consequence imposed by nature ? 
 
 A, Yes : it is the same thing. 
 
 B. And what do you understand by na- 
 ture ? 
 
 A. I mean, that series of events of which our 
 senses and other faculties inform us. 
 
66 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. And what gives to nature its laws ? Are 
 they self-imposed ? 
 
 A. They are inherent in nature. 
 
 B. What makes them inherent in nature ? 
 
 A, Nature herself. 
 
 B. So, then, nature is personified. Matter, I 
 imagine, made itself, and imposed laws upon 
 itself. 
 
 A. I see you are laughing at me. 
 
 B. Indeed I am not. I never was less in- 
 clined to laugh. I am only trying to interpret 
 your meaning. We must go back to expe- 
 rience. Have you ever thought of what you 
 mean by a law ? To me a law seems to imply 
 a lawgiver. If I take any law, such as gravi- 
 tation for example, I cannot conceive of it 
 otherwise than as universally imposed upon 
 nature, and implying an intention. All matter, 
 as it seems to me, was intended to be subject to 
 this law. Uniformity, so far from implying an 
 absence of mind, seems to imply the action of a 
 mind. Of course you may say it does not ; but, 
 so far as my experience extends, I know of no 
 activity which does not originate in a mind ; 
 and those who assert that it may perhaps not 
 so originate, assert simply a theory based upon 
 no facts of experience. But this we agreed 
 was not a scientific process. 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. Q7 
 
 A, We did. 
 
 B. Law, then, is a creation of mind. 
 
 A. On second thoughts I think I see a fallacy 
 in your argument. A law of nature is only the 
 expression of the fact that certain consequences 
 are always found connected witli certain ante- 
 cedents. Thus I assert that it is a law of nature 
 that a stone falling from the hand will, unless 
 impeded, go in a straight line towards the centre 
 of the earth. By this I mean that in all observed 
 cases it is found to be so, and nothing more. 
 
 B. Yery well. ]N"ow, if I assert that, on a cer- 
 tain day not recorded in history, it was observed 
 that stones fell upicard, and away from the 
 earth, what will you say ? 
 
 A. I should at once deny the fact, and say 
 you could not prove your words. 
 
 B. Well, I will content myself with saying 
 that they ivill fall upward to-morrow. 
 
 A. And I with saying that they will not. 
 
 B. On what ground will you deny the pos- 
 sibility ? 
 
 A. Because nature acts uniformly. 
 
 B. How do you know that ? 
 
 A. By experience. Such a fact as you pre- 
 dict never has happened, and therefore never 
 will happen. 
 
 B. Observe, now. Experience might pos- 
 
 e2 
 
68 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 sibly have assured you that it never had hap- 
 pened ; but that it never will happen is a truth 
 which, though true, depends upon an act of 
 faith. .Do not start at the word. It is pre- 
 cisely an act of faith to believe that nature will 
 act uniformly ; just as much an act of faith as 
 to believe that, because there appears to be 
 design in nature, there is really design. In 
 each case you have an act of faith, superinduced 
 upon experience. 
 
 A. But, supposing this to be so, how does it 
 tell upon our argument ? 
 
 B. In two ways. First, it proves that the 
 idea of Law is not simply what you assert, an 
 aggregation of experiences. It is that and 
 something else. Secondly, it shows that to 
 refuse to see design, where design appears to 
 exist, would be a mode of action which would 
 make it impossible to hold the belief that nature 
 is uniform in its operations. 
 
 A. But are there not instances in which it 
 is impossible to trace design ? 
 
 B. Perhaps there are, at least with our 
 present faculties. But are there not also in- 
 stances in which the uniformity of nature seems 
 to be infringed ? 
 
 A, Yes; but greater knowledge of nature 
 explains those apparent anomalies. 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 69 
 
 B. And in the same way a fuller knowledge 
 of the will of the designer will probably explain 
 anomalies in the sphere of design. It is true 
 that, in dealing with the impalpable facts of 
 mind, we are less aided by our senses than in 
 reasoning upon the palpable facts of what we 
 call nature. But the same reasoning which 
 excludes design, viz., apparent instances of the 
 absence of it, would logically forbid you to 
 believe in uniformity. 
 
 Now, I say that, seeing how many apparent 
 instances there are of design, and seeing that, 
 so far as our experience of action goes, it always 
 proceeds from a will, we have a right to assert 
 that all nature is regulated by a will. 
 
 A. And what follows ? 
 
 B. This : that, when we see a result following 
 upon an antecedent, we have a right to assume 
 that that result is purposely attached to that 
 antecedent; and that where pleasure or pain 
 follow any action, they were intended to 
 mark that that action should be practised or 
 foregone. These pains and pleasures arc natural 
 punishments and rewards. 
 
 A. But in the case of human laws we see 
 pains and penalties attached to the laws, and 
 inflicted individually by the judge ; whereas 
 this idea of vours, of natural rewards and 
 
'0 DIALOGUE O'S 
 
 punisliments, seems to exclude tlie idea of a 
 judge, and thus loses the special characteristic 
 of law. If, indeed, when a man did w^rong, fire 
 came down from heaven and burnt up the 
 offender, there would be something in it ; but 
 in these cases the punishment appears to be 
 irrational, the administration of it unfair, fall- 
 ing alike upon the innocent and the guilty, on 
 the ignorant as well as on those who know the 
 consequences of their actions. 
 
 £. You say the punishments and (to supply 
 the correlative idea) the rewards are irrational. 
 You mean, I presume, that you do not see the 
 judge, or that no person appears in these cases ? 
 
 A. That is what I mean. 
 
 B. ]!Sow, I will ask you to attend to this. 
 Do you consider it essential to human laws 
 that they should be executed by a judge ? 
 
 A. I certainly do. 
 
 B. But suppose a legislator established a 
 code of laws, with rewards and punishments 
 attached, should you consider that the nature 
 of law would be excluded, if he so contrived 
 that the laws shou.ld execute themselves? 
 Would it be a proof that the legislator did 
 not intend the rewards and punishments to be 
 inflicted, if they actually inflicted themselves 
 without the intervention of a judge ? 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 71 
 
 A. Well, I confess I should think it an 
 instance of extraordinary wisdom and fore- 
 thought on the part of the legislator, and a 
 remarkably simple method of procedure. 
 
 B. Well, this wisdom, forethought, and 
 simplicity of operation we attribute to God, 
 when we assert that He has so created the 
 universe as, by its ordinary course, to work out 
 His will in rewarding and punishing. 
 
 A. But is it not, sometimes at least, an un- 
 just proceeding ? Does it not occasionally 
 punish the innocent and reward the guilty ? 
 
 B. 'No doubt there are difficulties connected 
 with the material universe which we cannot 
 explain. But these perhaps may receive some 
 alleviation if we consider how very little we 
 really know of the tendencies of things. They 
 may further be resolved by the consideration, 
 that, if God has chosen to rule the world by 
 general laws, it would involve an inconsistency 
 in our ideas of Him to expect Him to be con- 
 stantly rescinding those general laws by special 
 interference, to say nothing of the fact that 
 men would soon come to think little of the laws, 
 and to look constantly for intervention on their 
 special behalf ; and thus the orderly scheme of 
 nature would pass away into a series of Divine 
 interpositions. And, further, we must recall to 
 
72 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 mind that we have agreed to be guided by the 
 balance of probabilities, and not to withhold 
 our assent because everything is not made 
 clear to us. 
 
 A. In this, at least, you are right. I do 
 believe that, in the great majorit}" of cases, the 
 laws of nature do not act unjustly ; and for the 
 others I am bound to waive the difficulty which 
 I have raised. Will you proceed ? 
 
 B. Let us turn from purely material ques- 
 tions, such as the purposes for which fire is 
 intended, to what after all concerns us much 
 more nearly, I mean moral questions. IN^ow, 
 my assertion is that, in this sphere, we have 
 ample reason to argue from presenl to future 
 rewards and punishments. At the commence- 
 ment of the discussion you waived the question 
 of rewards, and only took objection to the 
 punishments. Now, let us take a glance at 
 human life. Do you think that most of our 
 enjoyments, and much at least of our sufferings, 
 depend upon ourselves ? 
 
 A. No one but a necessarian of the most 
 unpractical type would deny this. I do indeed 
 know of men — and those Christians, as well as 
 others — who say that we have no power to do or 
 to forego an}^ one of our actions. But, for m}^ 
 own part. I feel that I have capacities for fore- 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 
 
 seeing the future, and a power over my will, 
 which, taken together, place my happiness and 
 misery in this life very much in my own 
 power. 
 
 B. Is this freedom and foresight sufficient to 
 form a guide to j^our life ? 
 
 A. Amply sufficient. 
 
 B. Suppose you knew that a certain course 
 of action would perhaps end in misfortune, 
 what, as a prudent man, would you do ? 
 
 A. I should avoid it. 
 
 B. On what grounds ? 
 
 A. Because I should feel that the pain w^as 
 attached to the action, in order that I might 
 avoid it. 
 
 B. Attached ! By whom ? 
 
 A. By nature. 
 
 B. Again that very ambiguous word ! 
 
 A. It was an inadvertence ; by the Creator. 
 
 B. So be it. And is not pain of the nature 
 of a punishment ? 
 
 A. It is. 
 
 B. And pleasure of the nature of a reward ? 
 
 A. Assuredly. 
 
 B. So, then, if in our lives here we find that 
 certain actions bring pleasure, and certain 
 others, pain, as their foreseen consequence, we 
 are quite justified in asserting, that in this 
 
74 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 world, at least, the God of nature rewards and 
 punishes men according as they obey or disobey 
 the laws of His creation, according as they 
 attend to the index which He has given them 
 of His will. 
 
 A. It seems so. 
 
 B. This is a proof that God not only dis- 
 penses pleasures and pains, but rewards and 
 punishes actions. God, therefore, is presented 
 to us by His creation as a governor ; that is, 
 One Who rewards and punishes. But, if He 
 does so now, what is there incredible in the 
 idea that He will do so afterwards? Why 
 should we make God inconsistent? Why 
 should we divide His attributes ? Why should 
 we say that a God of mercy cannot or will not 
 (for it is the same thing) punish men hereafter, 
 when the whole course of the world proclaims 
 that He does so )ww ? 
 
 A. Still I cannot but feel that the idea of 
 goodness implies a desire for the happiness of 
 His creatures. 
 
 £. Far be it from us to deny so beautiful a 
 conception. In the same way a good man 
 desires the happiness of all about him, and, 
 so far as lies in his power, affords the means. 
 But we know this, that, in spite of that bene- 
 ficent desire, men will turn what is intended for 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. / 
 
 their good into evil. They will be selfish, and 
 cheat, and defraud, and be jealous of one another. 
 And mark this : — If man be a free agent — if he 
 be not such as those, of whom you lately spoke, 
 would (contrary to their own consciousness) 
 make him — a mere machine — the idea of the 
 goodness of God can only imply this : that 
 God wills man's happiness ; that He gives 
 him the means and the faculties for happiness ; 
 that He supplies him with warnings and 
 natural restraints, to keep him in the right 
 course ; but that if, in spite of all this, he 
 chooses to defy God's law, then, just as w^hen 
 he defies the powers of nature, he is ground to 
 powder — so in this case, he will bring upon 
 himself the consequences which the opposition 
 to the law of righteousness involves. 
 
 A. It is an awful idea, and, I confess, some- 
 what differently expressed from the views 
 which I often have heard, of an angry and re- 
 vengeful God, delighting in the punishment of 
 the wdcked. 
 
 B. Ah ! my friend, how often has the truth 
 sufiered from some ill-judged and unwary 
 expression! It is, indeed, too common to hear 
 this repulsive representation of a revengeful 
 God held up before the minds of men. But, 
 remember that the idea of a God of goodness 
 
7G ' DIALOGUE ON 
 
 implies that He is of too pure eyes to behold 
 iniquity. What if it be not He, but ourselves, 
 who by our own act exclude ourselves from His 
 presence ? Is that conception a whit less awful 
 or appalling than those coarser representations 
 of God's vengeance, with which in ruder times, 
 or to ruder minds, the preachers of righteous- 
 ness have endeavoured to recall the vicious 
 from their ways? But, pardon me for thus 
 digressing. I see you have farther difficulties 
 yet to solve. 
 
 A. I have indeed: a difficulty so tremendous, 
 that I fear, lest every argument will fail to 
 resolve it. The punishment of sin after this 
 life is declared by religion to be final. Is it 
 possible that, where infinite mercy is an attri- 
 bute of God, it can ever be His wall to inflict 
 perpetual punishment upon His creatures? 
 
 B. It is, indeed, an awful thought ; and I, 
 like you, have often desired that I could be- 
 lieve otherwise. I have often pondered over 
 the passages in which the w^ord " eternal " is 
 used of punishment, and have tried to extract a 
 less dreadful meaning from them ; but, alas ! if 
 punishment is not eternal, neither is happiness. 
 The two stand or fall together. Still, we may 
 bear in mind that, if the certainty of immediate 
 punishment is not sufficient to deter men from 
 
REWARDS A^'D PUNISHMENTS. 
 
 crimes— if the probability of pain in tliis life is 
 not enoiigli to keep men from incurring it — it 
 may be tliat, as their sense of goodness becomes 
 dulled, and perhaps obliterated, the actual con- 
 dition of misery will be insufficient to bring 
 about repentance. There may be a condition 
 in which truth and the soul have become actual 
 strangers. But these are only surmises. Let 
 us again see if, in the course of nature, there 
 are no analogies to help us towards the solution 
 of this awful question. 
 
 A. What analogy can there be between time 
 and eternity ? 
 
 B. None, perhaps; but the question oi finality 
 may perhaps assist us. 
 
 A. What do you mean by finality ? 
 
 B. I mean a condition in which no repent- 
 ance avails. 
 
 A. But is there such a condition ? 
 
 B. Assuredly there is. Consider this:— Do 
 we not know of cases where men pursue a 
 course of crime ? For these crimes they know 
 that there is a probability of suffering : still 
 they practise them. The days go on. No 
 punishment, or apparently but little, follows. 
 They are intemperate, or live impure lives, 
 or allow their passions to master them. And 
 the more they continue so to act, the less do 
 
78 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 they fear the consequences. Suddenly and in 
 a moment the punishment comes. A blighted 
 life, ruined health, and irremediable misery is 
 their lot. They may repent and be trulj^ sorry ; 
 but there is the punishment, in spite of remorse 
 — fixed,. perpetual, and intense. What is this 
 but, so far as this life goes, finality of punish- 
 ment ? 
 
 A. This is, indeed, a sad truth gathered 
 from experience. But then these punishments, 
 though terribly severe, are not disproportionate 
 to the offences. 
 
 B. Are they not ? What will you say, then, 
 to those instances where these punishments 
 follow upon offences committed in the daj^s of 
 youth, before the judgment is matured, or 
 experience of the course of nature has assured 
 men of the possible consequences of their 
 actions ? 
 
 A. They do seem disproportionate. 
 
 B. And yet they occur; experience proves 
 it. And such cases are intensely mj^sterious ; 
 and I would add that no explanation can solve 
 the mystery of punishment. But this I say, 
 that, looking upon this as a practical question, 
 it is only reasonable to expect that, if only out 
 of mere prudence, men avoid actions which 
 thej^ are told, upon the authority of others, 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS, 
 
 involve terrible and irremediable punishments 
 as their results, they will be equally careful to 
 avoid actions which may possibly affect their 
 happiness for ever. 
 
 A. Ah ! you are treating this as a practical 
 question ; but mine was really a speculative 
 difficulty. You have indeed afforded me reasons 
 for believing that punishment may he final and 
 actions irremediable. But I wished to be able 
 to believe in a God all merciful, to Whose 
 beneficent nature punishment was a thing 
 opposed. 
 
 Jj. And by so doing you were practising a 
 mode of thought which we repudiated. You 
 were trying to create a God of your own, and 
 you were refusing to be guided by the expe- 
 rience of the universe. But, now we have 
 looked at the course of events in the world, and 
 have found that, if the material universe and 
 the soul of man come from the same hand, we 
 have a right to believe that some actions are 
 punished, that some are even punished finally, 
 so far as this world goes ; and that, if religion 
 asserts that the punishment or (let us call it) 
 the effect of some actions is perpetual, such a 
 result is only in accordance with present expe- 
 rience. And we ought not to forget this, that the 
 doctrine of eternity of punishment docs not, so 
 
80 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 far as we know, assert that any individual action 
 will incur eternal condemnation. 
 
 A. But does not tlie Bible assert that for a 
 particular sin, called The sin against the Holy 
 Ghost, there is no forgiveness ? 
 
 B. The sin against the Holy Ghost, spoken 
 of in Scripture, is not defined as an individual 
 act; but we have sufficient reason to believe 
 that it consists in a continued and determined 
 refusal to believe the highest truths ; which 
 refusal, supposing what we call the highest 
 truths to be true, implies the deliberate pre- 
 ference of darkness to light. And even an 
 atheist, if he believes that there is such a thinj? 
 as truth, would probably concede, that the nega- 
 tion of truth and the belief in falsehood are 
 beyond measure debasing and degrading to the 
 human soul. And if, as we have shown, there 
 is a probability of an existence after death, 
 there is also a probability that the negation of 
 truth would be the most intense degradation, 
 and, therefore, the most severe punishment 
 to a soul, conscious that there is a truth 
 towards which it ought to aspire, but from the 
 knowledge of which its own actions have 
 excluded it for ever. 
 
 A. You must allow me time to think over 
 these things : they seem at least plausible. 
 
REWARDS AND PUNISHMENTS. 81 
 
 But the line of argument is different from what 
 I expected, and I cannot tell how these matters 
 will appear on reflection. 
 
 B. Here, then, let us part for the present. 
 I will only add one word. The doctrine of 
 future punishment is indeed essential to reli- 
 gion. But those who are satisfied of the truths 
 of religion, and who practise what religion 
 enjoins, have little concern with it; because to 
 such men religion speaks not by threatenings, 
 but promises. A Christian, worthy of the name, 
 has no occasion to think of God as an Avenger, 
 but as a loving Father, Who gives him assistance 
 in his needs, and offers rewards of incalculable 
 extent. But even the idea of reward rarely 
 enters into the thoughts of the Christian. The 
 principle which guides him is that of love, and 
 his state of mind is said to be one of peace ; 
 and that peace may be defined in the words of 
 one who was not a Christian, as *'an unimpeded 
 activity of all the faculties of the soul upon 
 an object appropriate to them." 
 
82 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 
 
 B. Have you reflected upon the questioris 
 discussed in our last conversation ? 
 
 A. I have ; and I should feel well satisfied to 
 accept your conclusions, did not I find a further 
 startling difficulty, which seems very hard to 
 meet. 
 
 B. Will you tell me what it is ? 
 
 A. Certainly ; for I came for that very pur- 
 pose. If God is a governor and a judge, He 
 must govern and judge according to some fixed 
 code of laws. It would be entirely destructive 
 of the idea of God to suppose Him capricious 
 in His decisions, which would be the case if 
 there were no discernible law in His dealings 
 with His creatures. I say, that if His creatures 
 could not in any degree detect the principle 
 upon which the Creator acts. He would be to 
 all intents and purposes a capricious Being. 
 A judge who passes judgment on no discernible 
 principle, a governor who rules without a fixed 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 83 
 
 law, is an arbitrary person, and in no way 
 deserving of that love, which you spoke of as 
 the state of mind under which the true 
 Christian exists. 
 
 B. I think what you say very reasonable. 
 But surely you do not mean to imply that such 
 a description is an appropriate one of the 
 government of God? 
 
 A. I would willingly think that it is not. 
 But I read an ingenious and able book the 
 other day, the tendency of which was to show- 
 that no intelligible principle of Divine govern- 
 ment is discernible either in nature or societ}-. 
 The writer declared that the contradictions 
 to any assigned law of operation were so 
 numerous, or rather innumerable, that they 
 amount in every case to a positive disproof 
 of the existence of the law. 
 
 B. It must have been an ingenious work. 
 Could you give me an idea of the line of 
 argument ? 
 
 A. It was simply what I have stated. The 
 writer produced various doctrines of causation , 
 and against them set the instances in which 
 the supposed law was broken through. He 
 gave various cases, for example, in which 
 animals which swim in the waters have in- 
 cipient organs adapted for other conditions of 
 
84 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 life ; of serpents, wliicli have incipient wings, 
 and land animals with incipient fins ; and 
 showed that, if these were a proof of design, 
 then the framer of nature was convicted of 
 making mistakes. 
 
 B. And he argued from this, I suppose, 
 either that there was no design, or that God 
 was fallible, and left you which alternative you 
 preferred ? 
 
 A. He did so. 
 
 B, Well ; it was rather a bold assumption, 
 except on the ground that the writer knew all 
 that existed or will exist ; all the possible 
 changes and varieties of which nature is 
 capable, and which it is intended to undergo. 
 But how does this bear upon the present 
 matter ? 
 
 A. I will tell you. It occurred to me that 
 in forming a judgment of the dealings of God 
 with man, we assume that there is a certain 
 law b)^ which He acts. We take for granted 
 that God governs the world according to prin- 
 ciples of morality. Now just as the exceptions 
 to the general physical laws, which we think 
 we have discovered, annihilate those laws, so 
 the exceptions to what we call the moral 
 government of the universe disprove the 
 existence of such a government. Religion 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. CO 
 
 declares that the world is morally governed : 
 facts declare that this is not the case. 
 
 B. I think I see your difficulty. You think 
 that the idea of right and wrong is a creation 
 of the brain of man, and that there is no fixed 
 and definite quality in the nature of things 
 corresponding to it. 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. Now consider. There are two questions 
 here involved, let us keep them separate. One 
 is. Is the idea of right and wrong naturally 
 inherent in such a creature as man ? The 
 second is. Is this or that particular opinion 
 as to what is right or wrong necessary, or is 
 it a creation of man's imagination and associ- 
 ation ? 
 
 A. Will you make the distinction between 
 the two things somewhat clearer ? 
 
 B. I will try to d® so. If we consider the 
 history of the world, we shall find a constant 
 variation, in every age, of ideas which are 
 approved or proscribed. The opinions of each 
 age and each nation are stamped upon their 
 institutions. One age considers slavery a neces- 
 sary condition of society ; another asserts that 
 slavery is an abomination, to be utterly detested 
 by mankind. One nation approves of poly- 
 gamy, another looks upon it with horror. In 
 
86 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 such questions it is evident tliat tlie opinions of 
 men differ as to ivhat is right and what is 
 wrong, but it is equally evident that all ages 
 have considered that there is a right and a 
 wrong. In other words, it is quite plain that 
 since no age or nation has ever existed without 
 a distinction between right and wrong, these 
 ideas are natural to man. The idea of virtue 
 and vice, however it may differ in its form, is 
 an essential constituent of human nature. 
 
 A. It seems so. 
 
 B. And being such, it is evident that the 
 Creator has implanted it in man. 
 
 A. Pardon me, it only shows that men 
 naturally make a distinction between what is 
 beneficial to society and what is injurious. 
 
 B. Yes ; but they do so by the very con- 
 stitution of their nature. It is perfectly true 
 that men have differed very widely in their 
 opinions as to what is right and wrong. But 
 you never heard of a society of men to whom 
 right and wrong, in some shape or other, were 
 not familiar ideas. And these ideas, however 
 crude, indefinite, and incorrect, have materially 
 influenced the history of the world : I might 
 say, with justice, have moulded its course, in so 
 far as man is concerned. It cannot be said, 
 then, that there are no sii>-ns of, at least, an 
 
THE MORAL GOVER^'MENT OF GOD. 87 
 
 incipient moral law in the condition of man- 
 kind. All men acknowledge that there is a 
 right and a wrong. 
 
 A. I think they do. But this does not by 
 any means prove that God is a moral governor 
 of the universe. 
 
 B. ^0 ; but it goes some way to dispose of 
 the objection, as you have urged it; that the 
 exceptions to a moral law were more numerous 
 than the instances of its operation. Here is a 
 fact, wide as the universe, that, however men 
 differ upon details, they naturally and unani- 
 mously acknowledge something of the nature 
 of right and wrong. The exceptions to this 
 rule are so few, and, if examined, of so doubtful 
 a character, as to be of ver}^ little value, re- 
 garded as constituents of a probable argument. 
 
 A. Perhaps it may be so. I am quite aware 
 that the mind is easily misled by one or two 
 apparent exceptions to a general rule ; and that 
 if we read of a people in the centre of Africa 
 who know no distinction between right and 
 wrong, we forget, that even if the partial and 
 imperfect acquaintance of travellers with a 
 people, whose language they knew but slightly, 
 and into whose habits and feelings they had 
 but little opportunity of entering, were 
 thoroughly reliable, a single exception, such 
 
DIALOGUE ON 
 
 as this, would have to be classed under the head 
 of things unnatural and monstrous. 
 
 B. The fairness and candour of such an 
 admission is much to be commended. Allow 
 me to say, that if all men would come to the 
 discussion of philosophical, moral, and religious 
 subjects in so temperate a frame of mind as 
 this, I do not believe they would ever go away 
 dissatisfied. 
 
 A. Pray do not compliment me on my 
 candour ; my admission is only purely reason- 
 able. But I have a further objection to make 
 to what you are upholding as to the evidence 
 of God's moral government, and that is, the 
 fluctuations of the ideas of moral good and evil. 
 If a thing is wrong at one time, it cannot be 
 right at another ; if God is governing the world 
 according to moral laws now. He was not so 
 governing it at the time when the opposite 
 opinions were rife. 
 
 B. I do not think you fully appreciate the 
 position which religion takes up with regard to 
 this question. Eeligion asserts that God go- 
 verns the world by general laws; and that, 
 though He does not preclude Himself from 
 suspending the action of those laws at His 
 supreme will, yet, on the whole, the laws which 
 God gives are self-acting. Moreover, religion 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 89 
 
 asserts that man is a free agent ; and tliat, 
 though he does receive divine assistance if he 
 asks for it, he is in a great measure left to de- 
 termine his rules of conduct by the light of his 
 faculties, which are the gift of God, and ade- 
 quate to the object. The result of this free 
 agency of man is that he does not always choose 
 what is plainly beneficial to him : in fact, he 
 often chooses what he knows to be injurious, 
 even in cases where the common knowledge of 
 mankind declares him to be in error. In other 
 cases, less clear, he is equally liable to be mis- 
 led by present desires, or a wish to avoid dis- 
 comfort and annoyance. By means of these 
 declensions from the laws of his nature, by the 
 force of example and association, and by the 
 other influences which operate upon man in a 
 state of society, various opinions, contradictory 
 to truth and justice, arise and sway mankind. 
 This is the view which religion takes of the 
 origin of perverted notions of right and wrong. 
 A. It appears reasonable enough, so far as it 
 goes ; and the inference you would draw from 
 it will be, that, though there is one right 
 opinion on every subject, the free will of men 
 distorts it into various errors : and that whereas 
 God has desired that good should triumph and 
 evil be destroved, He does not so interfere with 
 
90 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 the actions of men as to prevent tiie reverse 
 happening, if they deliberately prefer evil to 
 good. 
 
 B. That is in part my meaning ; but still I 
 assert that there are signs sufficiently plain to 
 convince us that virtue is approved of by the 
 Author of nature, and approved of to such an 
 extent, that if men would accept the evidence 
 which lies before them they would cease to 
 make a question on this point. 
 
 A. And what is the evidence upon which 
 you depend ? 
 
 B. Is it not certain that a life of virtue is 
 attended with more satisfaction than a life of 
 vice ? do we not ourselves experience a feeling 
 of calmness, quiet, and satisfaction when we 
 have done what we believe to be rio:ht, or 
 avoided what we believe to be wrong ? 
 
 A. We do, I confess ; but does not that feel- 
 ing arise from the absence of fear ? if we acted 
 otherwise we have an apprehension that 
 society would avenge itself, if at last men dis- 
 covered our motives ? and this apprehension of 
 discovery is what causes the uneasiness of a 
 vicious man. 
 
 B. No doubt this apprehension is an element 
 in the feeling which we are describing ; but it 
 is not all. There are some actions which pro- 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 91 
 
 duce satisfaction, and others which cause dis- 
 quiet, without the fear of detection entering 
 into the consideration of them. Acts of dis- 
 interested kindness are frequently attended 
 with satisfaction, even in the most criminal. 
 There is a stor}^ told of two soldiers on a cam- 
 paign, the one robust and sturdy, the other 
 weak and delicate. In a cold winter's night, 
 as they lay side by side, the strong man ob- 
 served the weaker shivering with the cold, and 
 stripped off his own great coat to cover the 
 weaker. The strong man, it was afterwards 
 discovered, was a forger and a murderer. Do 
 you suppose that it was the expectation of 
 reward which influenced him? Was it not 
 rather that the act of disinterested kindness 
 brought its own reward ? 
 
 A. But might not his motive have been the 
 sense of superiority which his greater power of 
 endurance gave him ? 
 
 B. In analyzing any motive you will find 
 very many converging influences ; but what 
 I want you to observe is that, analyze it as you 
 will, you will find much difiiculty in getting 
 rid of some sense of satisfaction attendant upon 
 virtue, and discomfort attendant upon vice. And 
 even if the motive were, in the ultimate ana- 
 lysis, seen to be purely a self-regarding one, 
 
92 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 yet I do not see how that would prevent it being 
 an argument of the purpose of the Creator. 
 If it be proved that, by acting disinterestedly, 
 men are acquiring for themselves satisfaction 
 and pleasure greater than they would attain by 
 mere selfishness, this would show that such 
 actions were approved by the Creator. 
 
 A. But all men do not acknowledge that 
 virtue brings more satisfaction than vice. 
 Some men, or most men, even though they try 
 to. be virtuous, declare that it is an arduous and 
 cruel work, and others boldly give their vote on 
 the side of vice. 
 
 B. Well: it is almost impossible to weigh 
 the relative pleasures and pains which accom- 
 pany vice or virtue : at all events, it is impos- 
 sible to find an arbitrator to decide between 
 their respective claims. 
 
 A. Ah ! but I fear I cannot let you oif with 
 that reply. There is a kind of judge whom we 
 can find, a most unwilling one, and therefore 
 the better for our purpose. I speak of those 
 men who, having lived vicious lives, are per- 
 suaded to turn to virtue. These men have 
 experienced the sensations both of vice and 
 virtue. Now whatever they may tell us of the 
 comfort of a virtuous life, it is plain from their 
 confessions that their life is full of grief and 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMEKT OF GOD. 93 
 
 pain. While they lived viciously all things 
 went on satisfactorily. They went through 
 their round of pleasures without hindrance or 
 anxiety. But now that they have turned to 
 virtue they find themselves continually drawn 
 to what they believe to be wrong : their life is 
 a constant battle against temptation. They 
 have not even the satisfaction of the approba- 
 tion of the world. Instead of sympathizing 
 with them, it points the finger of scorn at them ; 
 it heaps up against them their former sins and 
 transgressions ; and they themselves are ren- 
 dered additionally wretched by the conscious- 
 ness that they deserve its censure. 
 
 B. All that is a true picture. It has only 
 one fault as an argument, that it overlooks 
 entirely the true and obvious reason for all this 
 discomfort. 
 
 A. And what is that ? 
 
 B. Why ! do you not see that all this 
 wretchedness, all this inclination to yield to 
 temptation, is to be attributed, not to virtue, 
 but to previous vicious courses. They attend upon 
 reformation, but they are consequences of 
 vice. You have no more right to blame virtue 
 for them than you have to attribute to tem- 
 perance the horrible sensations which the in- 
 veterate opium-eater experiences upon giving 
 
94 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 up his habit. Yicious courses will have their 
 revenge : body and spirit alike suffer from 
 them ; but those men who relinquish them in 
 time have a long up-hill road to traverse before 
 all the cravings of their passions, hitherto un- 
 restrained, can be brought to order. But with 
 your permission, leaving this argument for what 
 it is worth, we will pass on to another. What 
 do you consider to be the characteristic of virtue 
 and vice ? 
 
 A. I think that what is meant by virtue is a 
 deliberate acting upon principle to promote the 
 general cause of good. 
 
 B. Do you consider vice as a deliberate act- 
 ing upon principle to promote the general cause 
 of evil ? 
 
 A. 'No ; I believe that vice for the most part 
 consists in a deliberate want of forethought. 
 It is possible that some men love evil for its 
 own sake, but such are very few ; and it is also 
 possible that some men, through want of 
 education or from other causes, do what is 
 wrong without being aware of it. But, on the 
 whole, vice consists in a culpable want of fore- 
 thought. 
 
 B. We are not very far wrong, then, if we 
 say that virtue and vice are of the nature of 
 prudence and imprudence. 
 
 A. They certainly are of that nature. 
 
THE MOUAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 95 
 
 B. ]N'ow, can any thing be plainer than that 
 prudence, as a rule, is rewarded, and impru- 
 dence punished, in this life ? We are enabled, 
 by our faculties, to appreciate that the world is 
 governed by fixed laws ; we can reflect upon 
 the good and evil consequences of our behaviour, 
 and if we neglect to act upon our reflections, 
 there is a tolerable certainty that we shall not 
 do so with impunity. 
 
 A. That is true in the long run, no doubt, 
 l^ut I fear your argument will prove too much. 
 Vicious people, as well as virtuous people, make 
 use of forethought ; they work patiently and 
 deliberately to obtain a bad end ; and they 
 succeed. So that prudence is rewarded on the 
 side either of virtue or of vice. 
 
 B. Yes ; but it is rewarded in consequence 
 of its resemblance to virtue. In so far as a man 
 has an evil end in view he is undoubtedly 
 vicious ; but in so far as he exercises patience, 
 self-restraint, and watchfulness over his actions, 
 and is willing to forego every enjoyment or 
 profit which may interfere with his purpose, so 
 far he is, not indeed virtuous, but adopting the 
 qualities of the virtuous ; and if he succeeds, it 
 is owing to those qualities which are in them- 
 selves admirable, and only evil in their appli- 
 cation. Even then it remains to show that 
 such a man enjoys peace of mind and content- 
 
96 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 ment, after he has attained the end of his long 
 discipline. As a rule such men are not satis- 
 fied ; their tempers and dispositions are soured ; 
 and the close of their . life is not attended with 
 calmness or content. 
 
 A. But are not virtuous actions often 
 punished, and vicious ones rewarded, in the 
 world ? 
 
 -S. Not that I am aware of. 
 
 A. Consider this. Society is the creature of 
 God, and the principles, which on the whole are 
 found to be necessary to the wellbeing of society, 
 may be assumed to be the laws of Providence. 
 Now, do not we find in society that persecutions 
 are inflicted upon the good, and applause given 
 to the bad ? 
 
 B. We certainly do ; but then you must re- 
 member that men are not persecuted as bene- 
 factors to society. Persecutions arise from an 
 erroneous idea that the principles and actions of 
 the persecuted tend to the injurj^ of society. It 
 is very true that the truth is often oppressed in 
 this way, not because it is truth, but rather 
 because it is believed to be false. And, again, 
 society applauds vice, not as vice, but because 
 it has assumed the garb of virtue. 
 
 ^. I do not quite see this. 
 
 jB. With regard to virtue, it is quite evident 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 97 
 
 from contemporary history that the Apostles 
 and early Christians, who professed a life of 
 austere virtue, were punished, not for this, but 
 on the principle *' that they were turning the 
 world upside down." In addition to this, we 
 learn that all kinds of vices of the most 
 atrocious character were attributed to them : 
 nothing was too bad for " the most pernicious 
 sect of the Christians." This evidence is as 
 good as any other, as it proves that the per- 
 secution was in the supposed interests of order. 
 Or, again, take the persecution of Galileo : Did 
 it not originate in the idea that by his opinions 
 he was likely to destroy the truth, and bring 
 all his followers into peril of extreme misery ? 
 So that that, too, arose from the notion that 
 what he taught was antagonistic to virtue. On 
 the other hand, the rewards and favour bestowed 
 upon a rascal, like Titus Oates, were bestowed 
 because it was thought that he was working for 
 the general good. 
 
 A. Eut even granting what you say to be 
 the case, that men only punish virtue and re- 
 ward vice when they mistake them for their 
 opposites, does it not appear that nature often 
 bestows her favours on the vicious, her frowns 
 upon the virtuous, and this, too, by way of 
 direct consequence of either ? 
 
 o 
 
98 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. This is anotlier aspect of the question, and 
 requires careful consideration. You mean to 
 say that virtuous actions are not always natu- 
 rally rewarded, and that pleasure often attends 
 what is acknowledged to be vicious ? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. But you must make a distinction. Every 
 faculty of our nature is intended to be used, 
 and when employed its exercise is attended 
 with pleasure. This is our guarantee that it is 
 intended to be used. But occasions may occur 
 in which the exercise of the faculty would be 
 injurious. Nevertheless the pleasure attending 
 its exercise would still be experienced; and 
 though it would be followed with pain exceed- 
 ing the pleasure, the immediate exercise of the 
 faculty is pleasurable. When, then, you say 
 vicious actions are often rewarded and virtuous 
 actions punished, it is necessary to specify what 
 you mean. Is your meaning that virtue, as 
 virtue, is often punished, and vice, as vice, often 
 rewarded ? or that vice is often attended with 
 pleasure, and virtue with pain ? 
 
 A. I believe I did not make the distinction ; 
 and what I intended to convey was the latter 
 of the two propositions. Still, I should like to 
 hear your disproof of the former. 
 
 B. Well, then, I assert that virtue, as virtue, 
 
THE MOR.VX GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 99 
 
 is rewarded. And I see a proof of this in the 
 inward satisfaction and happiness which virtue 
 causes — a satisfaction so great that in many 
 cases it is quite enough to compensate men for 
 any misfortunes. It does not matter how that 
 satisfaction originates, whether from a con- 
 sciousness of promoting the general good, or 
 fulfilling the law of God, or from an instinct : 
 it is an undeniable fact. You hear men say 
 that they have the satisfaction of knowing that 
 such and such a matter was not occasioned by 
 their fault ; and this is an instance, though in 
 a low degree, of the inward happiness of which 
 virtue is the cause. And, on the other hand, 
 it is plain that, in many cases, vice causes 
 misery and inward disquiet, quite irrespective 
 of the fear of discovery and punishment. 
 Criminals have been known to inform against 
 themselves, declaring that no punishment would 
 compare to the gnawings of remorse ; and 
 though such cases are, perhaps, not frequent, 
 they are an indication of the state of feeling of 
 which almost all men are more or less conscious 
 after wrong- doing. 
 
 A. I think your argument may be met in 
 
 two ways : by denying the fact that most men 
 
 do feel such remorse, and by explaining both 
 
 the pleasure and the pain, of which you speak, 
 
 G 2 
 
100 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 as a growth of the principle of self-love. A 
 man may say, "I do not believe that the 
 pleasure of virtue or the pain of vice exists, 
 except in so far as men expect advantage or 
 fear punishment in consequence of their acts ; " 
 or he may say, ^' This feeling of satisfaction 
 arises from the consciousness that, by the exer- 
 cise of friendship and benevolence, we have 
 placed ourselves in a position of superiority 
 over others." 
 
 B. With regard to the first objection, that 
 men do not feel remorse, it is an assertion and 
 no argument ; and if it were, it would be con- 
 tradicted by the second. I wall appeal to ex- 
 perience against you, whether remorse is not a 
 common feature, or even a general rule, with 
 those vrho have acted viciously ; and with regard 
 to the assertion that men act from a hope of 
 advantage, I will ask you what advantage 
 does a man expect to reap by going among the 
 poor and miserable, and relieving their neces- 
 sities ? 
 
 A. I suppose he expects their gratitude. 
 
 B. But he knows that among such persons 
 he will probably find more ingratitude than 
 gratitude. 
 
 A. Why, then, I suppose he looks forward 
 to reward in a future life. 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 101 
 
 B. Here, again, I can only say that you are 
 asserting what you cannot prove. No doubt, 
 many people do hope that by such acts they 
 are pleasing God, and they are right. But the 
 motive which actuates them is, for the most 
 part, that this is simply their dut}^, and in the 
 acts of kindness which they do, there is no 
 thought of the reward which is to follow, but 
 simply the exercise of a religious principle 
 within them. 
 
 A. And yet very many people cease to dis- 
 charge this duty where no gratitude follows, 
 and they see no visible success attend them. 
 
 B. I have never contended that there is not 
 much weakness in human virtue, nor that 
 mixed motives can be entirely excluded. My 
 argument is, that there are sufficient proofs of 
 disinterestedness among men to show that the 
 pleasure of virtue does not arise from selfish 
 considerations. Pure benevolence is a very 
 precious jewel, and is rare and costly. Still 
 from the less pure instances, we are able by 
 analysis to ascertain what is the essential 
 quality, and that is not selfishness. 
 
 A. But may it not be unconscious selfish- 
 ness? 
 
 B. Do yon mean that people act virtuously, 
 because it gives them pleasure to do so ; but 
 
102 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 that they do not know that this pleasure leads 
 them to be virtuous ? 
 
 A. That is what I mean. 
 
 B. If so they are not selfish. If it is possible 
 to act under the impression that you are simply 
 doing good, and without any motive or design 
 to give satisfaction to yourself, you are acting 
 without selfish motives. But after all, what 
 your last objection amounts to is simply, that 
 in every energy attended with pleasure the 
 motive to action is the pleasure, which is not 
 the case. There are numbers of actions, selfish 
 and unselfish, which are attended by pleasure, 
 but the pursuit of which arises from another 
 motive besides the pleasure. It is a fallacious 
 mode of reasoning, to argue that because every 
 action successfully performed causes satisfac- 
 tion, the only or the principal motive to act 
 was the desire of that satisfaction. But leaving 
 this, I will only remark that, as you allow that 
 the satisfaction of virtue is so great and palpable 
 as to induce man}^ people to seek it, in spite of 
 apparent diflS cullies and pains which lie in the 
 way of its attainment, this is a very strong 
 confession that virtuous action is in itself pre- 
 eminently desirable. And if it is so much to 
 be desired, I do not see how we can avoid 
 inferring that nature, in other words, the 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 103 
 
 Creator of nature, has intended us to pursue it. 
 But I see other arguments of great weight in 
 this matter, to prove that virtue is naturally- 
 rewarded, and vice naturally punished. 
 
 A. Pray, produce them. 
 
 B. If the voice of nature is to be found 
 speaking anywhere, it is in the unconscious 
 tendencies of large bodies of men. 'Now, how- 
 ever much men may be inclined to selfishness 
 or sunk in vice, it is certain that they have an 
 instinctive admiration and love for unselfish- 
 ness, generosity, kindness, and virtuous actions 
 generally. This is evident from the fact that 
 eminent justice, fidelity, love of country, and 
 the like, are rewarded by the approbation of 
 men, both good and bad, so long as those 
 qualities do not interfere with their own success ; 
 and not only with the approbation, but even 
 with substantial marks of approbation, in the 
 way of honours, rewards, and dignities con- 
 ferred upon them. On the other hand, such is 
 the feeling which men have respecting tyranny, 
 oppression, and cruelty, that the sequel of these 
 evil qualities frequently exasperates nations 
 into revolution. And if 5^ou will consider the 
 history of revolutions, you will find that among 
 their causes, the actual misery endured by the 
 people, is as nothing compared with the exas- 
 
104 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 peration awakened by the sight of the injustice 
 and oppression which precede them. 
 
 A. I am quite willing to concede that much 
 of the spirit which influences revolutions is 
 sentiment. Men magnify their wrongs, dwell 
 upon mistakes in their rulers as if they were 
 crimes, and act thoroughly unreasonably, even 
 though they have justice on their side. But 
 ought we not to attribute these things to a 
 kind of mania, which seizes upon men acting 
 in masses, and spreads like an infectious 
 disease ? 
 
 £. Granted that it is so, you must explain 
 what gives rise to the mania. You compare it 
 to a disease. Are you prepared to say that 
 the objects and aims for which nations rise in 
 revolution are evil ? I ask this, because though 
 no one would be surprised to hear me, a de- 
 fender of things established, make the assertion, 
 such an opinion coming from your side of these 
 questions would be remarkable. 
 
 A. "No ; I do not think that the objects and 
 aims of revolution are generally evil. Looking 
 through the history of nations, so far as I am 
 able to judge, I should say that injustice and 
 oppression have been the principal causes. A 
 hatred of tyranny and of the attempt to enslave 
 the bodies and minds of men, has led men to 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 105 
 
 band together to promote such things as liberty, 
 fraternit}-, and equality; and though, under 
 these names, many foolish and many unjustifiable 
 acts have been done, I do not think we ought 
 to refuse to see a natural movement towards 
 good things. 
 
 B. Well, whatever may be thought of your 
 estimate of revolution, I have no reason to 
 complain. You assert that the masses of man- 
 kind, when aroused, are aroused on the side of 
 what is in itself good, however undesirable the 
 means which they employ to express their 
 sentiments or gain their ends. You are, there- 
 fore, at one with me in the assertion, that men 
 naturally admire what is right and detest what 
 is wrong. 
 
 A. Yes, but you and I perhaps differ in our 
 definition of right and wrong. 
 
 B. Do you consider justice, truth, honest}^ 
 fair dealing, public spirit, patriotism, gene- 
 rosity, and kindness, as things good, or bad ? 
 
 A. Good, certainly. 
 
 B. Do you believe falsehood, treachery, 
 cruelty, dishonest}^, and harshness, to be 
 virtuous or vicious ? 
 
 A. As certainly they are vicious. 
 
 B. Then I think you and I will not differ 
 much in our definition. 
 
106 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. Ah, but I call things good, because they 
 tend to the good of society, and bad, because 
 they injure society. You, on the other hand, 
 call them so, because you imagine people have 
 an intuitive perception of them. 
 
 B. I will not dispute the metaphysical ques- 
 tion. It matters nothing to the present argu- 
 ment hoip we estimate virtue and vice, if, as it 
 appears, we are agreed as to tvhat they are. 
 If that which appears beneficial to society at 
 large has such power to sway the passions of 
 multitudes, it seems only an additional argu- 
 ment, that the Author of Nature has so ruled 
 that men shall approve what He intended for 
 their benefit. The arguments seem to me all 
 to point one way. Whether we look to the 
 natural tendency of actions, or the sentiments 
 which accompany them, or the opinions of 
 mankind, all seem to point to a declaration of 
 Nature on the side of virtue and against vice. 
 To go into every detail would occupy too much 
 time, but I honestly believe that every single 
 argument which can be fairly adduced would 
 be found to tell on my side. 
 
 A. I do not yet think you have fairly dis- 
 posed of the fact that sometimes virtue is 
 punished and vice rewarded. 
 
 B. Well, I can only say, that if there are 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 107 
 
 cases in which we find virtue suffering, and 
 vice triumphant and happy, you may fairly 
 infer from the general course of things that 
 such cases are exceptional. And, perhaps in a 
 world guided by general laws, such exceptions 
 are inevitable. If you will say that, because 
 not every case of virtue is found to be happy, 
 or, rather, prosperous, therefore you cannot 
 believe that there is a preference for virtue 
 over vice in Nature, I will assert that you 
 require proof for your belief, greater than you 
 will find in any question with which you have 
 to deal. 
 
 A. But the exceptions are so numerous, that 
 I have a fair right to dispute, whether the 
 happiness of virtue or the prosperity of vice is 
 the rule or the exception. 
 
 JB. I cannot help thinking that you are con- 
 founding two things, happiness and external 
 prosperity. Now, if there is one thing more 
 certain than another, it is that these two things 
 are not synonymous. Prosperity does not make 
 happiness, nor adversity unhappiness. I will 
 go farther, and say that you will find as much 
 misery among those who are externally pro- 
 sperous as among the unprosperous. Mental 
 happiness is a ver}^ difierent thing from bodily 
 comfort : and tliat vouwill find amon^? virtuous 
 
108 
 
 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 poor people, quite as strong as among virtuous 
 wealthy people ; in fact, the sympathy, gene- 
 rosity, and kindness, which are found to exist 
 among the poor, might well be a pattern to 
 others in better positions. And the admiration 
 which they have for good qualities frequently 
 contrasts very remarkably with the critical, 
 half cynical, judgment of the rich upon humane 
 and earnest men. And the happiness and con- 
 tentment, the simple pleasure, which they feel 
 in helping one another, is an evidence of the 
 natural effects of virtue in very critical cases. 
 
 A. "Well, I suppose experience alone can 
 decide these questions. But I own myself dis- 
 appointed that you can bring no more con- 
 vincing arguments of the moral government 
 of God. 
 
 B. I have not said that all my arguments are 
 exhausted ; so far, I have only been arguing 
 against your objections. I have tried to show 
 you that you have not sufficient ground for 
 assuming the absence of moral government in 
 the universe. As a rule, men admire and 
 respect virtue and nobleness of disposition ; 
 they never reward a vicious man because he is 
 vicious ; they never punish a virtuous man 
 because he is virtuous. The more you mass 
 people together, the more you will find that the 
 
THE MORAL GOVEENMEKT OF GOD. 109 
 
 principles wliicli they avow are good, thougli 
 selfishness and passion mar them in the carry- 
 ing out. In this sense the words '' The voice of 
 the people is the voice of God" are seen to be 
 true. But in all this, you will observe, we are 
 only on the very verge of the religious question. 
 We have not mentioned what Christianity 
 avows as to the moral government of God. 
 
 ^. I do not understand you. Is there any- 
 thing more to be proved than that God favours 
 virtue, and hates vice ? 
 
 B. Yes ; very much more. Heligion asserts, 
 indeed, that goodness is pleasing to God, and 
 vice hateful ; that God is a righteous Judge, 
 who rewards virtue and punishes sin. But 
 religion also tells us that the present state of 
 things is imperfect, and that, in a future life, 
 all the discrepancies and difficulties, which 
 seem to mar the present, will be corrected ; and 
 that then vice and virtue shall shine forth in 
 their true colours, and all inequalities shall be 
 resolved. 
 
 A. And will you undertake to prove this 
 from nature ? 
 
 B. No ! I will not ; but I can show you that 
 nature points in the same direction as religion. 
 My argument amounts to this, that the tend- 
 ency of virtue is to overcome vice in this world ; 
 
110 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 and that, therefore, if religion asserts that in 
 another world it will actually be victorious, 
 nature argues on her behalf. But I do not 
 undertake to say that nature by herself would 
 of necessity force this doctrine upon minds not 
 prepared to receive it. 
 
 A. This is indeed widening the field of 
 inquiry. But I fear that, if you have only 
 partially convinced me hitherto, j^ou will 
 find it much more difiicult to establish this 
 point. However, please to proceed in your 
 inquiry. 
 
 B. I do not agree with you that it will be 
 more difl&cult to establish this point satis- 
 factorily, and I am well-pleased to have arrived 
 at this stage of the inquiry, because here we 
 have analogies to help us, which, at present, 
 we have not made use of. Will you help me, 
 or will you contest every stage of the argu- 
 ment ? 
 
 A. I will follow you, hoping to be con- 
 vinced. 
 
 B. Do you really mean that ? Then I have 
 little fear you will be satisfied. Hitherto I 
 have had to deal with you as a most determined 
 opponent. Now listen. Are rational or ir- 
 rational creatures the stronger ? 
 
 A. Physically speaking, irrational creatures 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. Ill 
 
 are the more powerful, but the quality of 
 reason enables those possessed of it to gain the 
 supremacy. 
 
 B. Is this always the case ? 
 
 A. No ; for reason must have scope to 
 operate ; it requires time to bring its forces to 
 bear, and opportunity for their exercise. If a 
 number of men were cast naked upon an island 
 occupied by wild beasts, it is probable they 
 would all perish under superior force ; although, 
 were they enabled to use the resources of their 
 reason, they would discover means to resist and 
 overcome the brute animals. 
 
 B. And should you decide, then, that in 
 such a case reason or physical strength was 
 superior ? 
 
 A. I should say that naturally reason was 
 superior ; accidentally, brute force. 
 
 B. So, then, it is possible for a particular 
 quality to be in itself superior to another, and 
 yet be overcome through lack of opportunity 
 for its exercise. 
 
 A. Quite possible. 
 
 B. Apply the argument to virtue. It is 
 possible that virtue may be intended to be 
 superior to vice, and yet be overcome through 
 lack of opportunity. 
 
 A. Certainly ; it is possible. 
 
112 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. Now what is it that forms the strength of 
 reason ? 
 
 A. The power of union and co-operation. 
 
 B. In this respect virtue and reason resemble 
 one another. Each acquires strength from co- 
 operation. The only difference is, that men 
 use reason in opposition to one another ; while 
 virtue is, by its very nature, a bond of union. 
 Men, who possess reason, use that reason to 
 outwit one another. The virtuous never desire 
 this ; they wish to promote the interests of 
 all alike ; they have no desire to supplant 
 or to deceive one another. Is not that the 
 case? 
 
 A. It appears to be essential to the idea of 
 virtue. 
 
 B. So that if virtuous men could unite 
 throughout the world, their special object 
 would be to promote the cause of virtue. They 
 would have no elements of discord amongst 
 them, no disturbing forces to mar the harmo- 
 nious co-operation of the whole. Suppose, now, 
 such an union could take place in the world, 
 what would be the result ? 
 
 A. They would form an invincible common- 
 wealth, against which no other union could 
 avail. For I see plainly that in any other 
 union selfish motives would creep in and under- 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 113 
 
 mine the power of the whole. If virtue is, as 
 by its idea it appears to be, a perfect unity of 
 sentiment, or at least such an unity that it 
 would always prefer to surrender any individual 
 tastes and opinions to the general welfare, I 
 do not see how any society founded on other 
 principles could withstand it. 
 
 B. So that if even a smaller number of per- 
 fectly virtuous men were combined against a 
 larger number of men not possessed of virtue, 
 the union natural to the one would in the lono-- 
 run prevail over the divided counsels and 
 selfish aims of the other. 
 
 A. But yet this seems, though excellent in 
 theory, to be at variance w4th facts. Do not 
 the most crafty and unscrupulous states over- 
 come those which are less so ? 
 
 B. I grant it. But, from the very form of 
 the question, you will see that it is not a case 
 in point. 
 
 A. How so ? 
 
 B. You ask me whether the more unscru- 
 pulous does not prevail over the less so. Now, 
 the question is between perfectly virtuous and 
 perfectly vicious states. As things are, it is 
 admitted that in the best there is a vast 
 amount of selfishness, personal ambition, and 
 disregard of the general weal, so much so that 
 
 H 
 
114 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 at times the strength of the whole is sapped by 
 the rottenness of a part. 
 
 A. Then such a state as you imagine is im- 
 possible ? 
 
 B. I suppose it is. Not only are really good 
 and virtuous men subject to all kinds of imper- 
 fections : the circumstances of the world will 
 never allow a state to be formed of only the 
 best men. We are forced to content ourselves 
 with mixed states ; we never can have all 
 offices and positions apportioned out to good 
 men, who are exactly suited for them. There 
 will always be the ambitious struggling by 
 every means to gain the chief power, and the 
 selfish or idle shrinking from labour and re- 
 sponsibility. Offices will always be apportioned 
 in accordance with the predilections of the 
 powerful ; and hence every state must of neces- 
 sity be a spectacle of opposition and contention ; 
 although in some cases the virtuous leaven of 
 public spirit will obviate the worse evils of the 
 system. 
 
 A. You speak rather despondingly : still in 
 the main you speak correctly. Is there no 
 
 remedy ? 
 
 B. Not till rulers are all virtuous, or virtuous 
 men are rulers : not till all men have learned 
 to look upon selfishness and malice and ambition 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 115 
 
 as the source of their misfortunes. Then, and 
 not till then, will a remedy be found. 
 
 A. And that will never be. 
 
 B. Yes, my friend, it will be, but not on 
 earth. The time will come when " the people 
 shall be all righteous, and shall inherit the land 
 for ever." There will be a day when the striv- 
 ings of the ambitious, and the plottings of the 
 crafty, the selfishness of tyrants, and the reck- 
 lessness of multitudes, shall no more be known. 
 We shall see it, but not now. That which is 
 now depressed by isolation, but which by its 
 nature tends to union, and in union finds 
 strength — that of which here and there we 
 see the beginnings, but which is like a rich 
 flower, choked by the overgrowth of weeds, — 
 that virtue shall one day blossom into its per- 
 fection. When the voices of earth are silent, 
 the virtuous shall stand in a perfect kingdom 
 before their King, each with his own work and 
 with unimpeded powers to accomplish it ; each 
 taking by wise appointment the post allotted 
 to him, and rejoicing in the knowledge that all 
 is well ; not striving to go beyond his neigh- 
 bour, and yet not sinking into apathy or sloth. 
 This is the state of virtue triumphant — the 
 beauty of holiness — the city of God. 
 
 A. Dreams, my dear friend, dreams ! Plato 
 H 2 
 
116 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 hoped for it, and saw a type of it in Sparta. 
 Sir Thomas More had visions of it. But these 
 were mere imaginations ; and yours, however 
 beautiful, however much to be desired, is as 
 far off as theirs — and farther. 
 
 B. And why did Pkto dream of it ? Whence 
 came his imaginations, think you ? Imperfect, 
 fanciful, unreal they were, I grant you. But 
 were they not the conscious aspirations of a 
 virtuous soul, trammelled indeed by the weak- 
 nesses of his age and nation— but pointing to 
 a fulfilment by their very existence ? If there 
 had not been a natural tendency in virtue to 
 raise such ideas, they could never have existed. 
 A. But yet such visions are no arguments. 
 If they were, would not all the ravings of 
 superstition, all the fancies of heathen nations, 
 as we call them, claim to be considered as 
 truths, and demand our assent ? And if so, see 
 what portentous results, what utter confusion, 
 would result. Above all, what an utter de- 
 struction of a part of your thesis, upon which 
 you have as yet not touched, but which, sooner 
 or later, you will have to set before me, would 
 result. You will tell me that Christianity 
 demands from me undivided assent. Why 
 should I not prefer Mahometanism to Chris- 
 tianity on such principles? That religion 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 117 
 
 declares that all the glories of a heavenly 
 kingdom are reserved for its faithful followers. 
 And how will you prove to me that I must 
 reject it ? 
 
 B. The claims of various religions depend 
 upon evidence. Even could it be shown that 
 the moral character of Mahomet's religion 
 were as high as that of Christ, it would 
 still remain to decide between the historical 
 evidence of each. At present that question has 
 not come before us. We are on the ground of 
 natural religion. And if I have adopted the 
 language of the Christian Scriptures, it is that 
 I may show that the principles which they 
 imply, are not opposed to reason. Those princi- 
 ples are the conclusions towards which unaided 
 reason tends. They have, therefore, a prima 
 facie claim upon our assent. We have seen 
 that it appears as if God rules the world on 
 principles of morality. We have seen that, on 
 the whole, virtue has a natural beauty and 
 attractiveness about it. It tends to happiness ; 
 it is admired, reverenced, and, in many cases, 
 rewarded. It is never, as such, hated or per- 
 secuted ; it has a tendency to unite mankind, 
 to content them, to elevate them. And if the 
 Bible speaks of it with approbation, if it seems 
 to soar into the regions of imasfination in 
 
118 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 depicting the ultimate triumpL. of virtue, it 
 does so on grounds of reason — it carries on and 
 completes the ideas of wise men. Nature sup- 
 plies the outline, and the Bible fills in the 
 lights and shades, and gives completion to the 
 picture. 
 
 A. All this requires much reflection. I am 
 not altogether so sceptical as I may seem. 
 Your reasoning has had its weight with me : 
 but it is hard to give up one's doubts. I believe 
 I have urged my arguments as far as they 
 will go; and at least you have shown me that 
 the dogmatism with which I started was 
 somewhat premature. Give me time ; other 
 difficulties start up before me. If you will 
 answer them, every additional argument will 
 have its weight, and it may be that you will 
 satisfy my scruples altogether. 
 
 £. Ah, my good friend, I will not damp 
 your ardour. But let me say this : You, whose 
 life is earnest and virtuous, do not find your 
 trials in the temptations of the world. Maj^ it 
 not be that, to such minds as yours, the doubts 
 and difficulties which you experience are in- 
 tended for a discipline to you ? Let me ask you 
 to weigh this well, and perhaps it may assist 
 you to resolve some of those questions with 
 which your mind is troubled. 
 
THE MORAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 119 
 
 A. 1 will bear what you say in mind, and 
 another day, if you will, we will resume our 
 argument. 
 
 JB. With all my heart. Good-bye. 
 
120 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE IT. 
 
 ox A STATE OF TRIAL OR TROBATION. 
 
 B. I AM very glad to see you here to-day. It 
 is sucli a long time since our last conversation 
 that I began to fear you were utterly wearied 
 out ; and I blamed myself for my own dulness 
 in not interesting you. 
 
 A. You have no need to do that. I am 
 deeply interested. But in many ways your 
 mode of argument is novel to me, and it takes 
 much time to digest and arrange the results of 
 our conversations. Frequently I am inclined 
 to agree with a great deal j^ou say ; but then I 
 discover something which makes me pause ; and 
 so I take time to sift out what I reject, or am not 
 persuaded of, from what I approve. 
 
 B. In this case, then, I must fear that you 
 have found very much to object to in our last 
 conversation. 
 
 A. It is not so much ///ff^ which has engaged my 
 mind, as a certain deficiency in your argument, 
 which presents an impassable stumbling-block. 
 
A STATE OF TKIAL OR PROBATION. 121 
 
 B. I am afraid there may be many deficien- 
 cies. The difficulty of arguing in the way we 
 have been doing lies in the fact, that many of 
 your principal obstacles are only known to me 
 through the minds of others. To me the argu- 
 ments in favour of religion appear so much 
 stronger than those against it, that the full 
 force with which many questions present them- 
 selves to a doubting mind, is perhaps hardly 
 apparent. 
 
 A. Yes ; that is just the case. You seem to 
 argue so much as if you were certain of your 
 conclusions, that I am often inclined to tax you 
 with a want of appreciation of real difficulties. 
 My own mind is so passion-tossed on many of 
 these matters that I turn, like a weathercock, 
 wherever the wind blows. 
 
 B, I will not say that I wish for your sake 
 I doubted more, because that would be untrue ; 
 but I should really feel grateful, if you will 
 point out when I dogmatize too much. 
 
 A. That is just what I am about to do. You 
 have been arguing about some surface facts of 
 religion, but you have forgotten, all the while, 
 the great underlying difficulties. 
 
 B. I grieve to hear such a charge. So far 
 as we have gone, I have argued from the idea 
 of a beneficent Creator. This indeed I have 
 
122 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 assumed as acknowledged by you ; for I think 
 j^ou confess, that the appearance of order and a 
 purpose in nature point evidentl}^ to the opera- 
 tion of a mind ; and there are signs enough 
 that such a mind is beneficent. 
 
 A. This I acknowledge ; though you should 
 remember that it is a great concession on the 
 part of a sceptic in these daj^s of free thought. 
 
 JB. I know it is : but it is on this principle 
 that you started. 
 
 A. Well, not exactly; though, on the whole, 
 the line of argument has at least proved that 
 such an idea is not inconsistent with reason. 
 However, allowing, as I do, the signs of good- 
 will toward men in the ordering of the uni- 
 verse, I accede to your proofs of the existence 
 of a moral governor. 
 
 JB. Then I do not perceive what you have to 
 complain of 
 
 A. Why, you argue that, as such, a God of 
 purity and holiness must be on the side of 
 virtue. You have shown fairly enough that 
 there are signs of this. You have also, not un- 
 fairly, set out the probability of God's punish- 
 ing evil-doers, and rewarding the virtuous, from 
 arguments drawn from the actual course of 
 nature. But the one great difficulty of all is 
 utterly forgotten. 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 123 
 
 B. What is that ? 
 
 A. Keligion asserts that we are not only 
 under a moral governor, but also that we are 
 placed by Him in a state of great difficulty and 
 danger. Can anything be more unreasonable ? 
 
 B. On what ground is it unreasonable ? 
 
 A. You ask me to believe, that a God of love 
 and of holiness deliberately places His noblest 
 creatures in a position, where there is every 
 probability that they will fail, and, having 
 done so, will be punished for their failure. 
 
 B. I think you rather overstate the case. 
 Further investigations will, I trust, show to 
 you, that the probabilities of failure do not so 
 grievously preponderate over those of success 
 in attaining to virtue as you imagine. 
 
 A. Still, such is the case. Confessedly we 
 are in a state of trial and difficulty. How we 
 came to be in it no one knows ; and how we 
 are to escape from it is almost as difficult to 
 ascertain. 
 
 B. And you would, therefore, infer that the 
 idea of our being in a state of trial, and respon- 
 sible for our actions, is untrue ? 
 
 A. Most assuredly I should infer this. 
 
 B. You think it hard that the hindrances to 
 virtue in this life should have any influence 
 upon our future condition ? 
 
124 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. Be it so. Now you and I liave lived a 
 certain number of years, and have acquired a 
 certain character of mind. How did we ac- 
 quire it ? 
 
 A. By circumstances, by education, example, 
 and the opinions of those about us, as well as 
 from other remote causes which I cannot 
 accurately determine. 
 
 B. Can we get rid of our mental character ? 
 
 A. Not readily. 
 
 B. And shall we find it easier to do so a few 
 years hence ? 
 
 A. No : it grows more difficult each year. 
 
 B. When you were ten years old it would 
 not, I imagine, be unfair, in some sense, to 
 speak of your life after thirty as your future 
 life? 
 
 A. I see no objection. 
 
 B. Well, then ; more or less, your life after 
 thirty is a result of your earlier years. The 
 circumstances in which you were then placed, 
 the education which you received, and the 
 associates with whom your lot was cast without 
 choice of your own, have had an influence upon 
 your character, which nothing short of a mar- 
 vel can eradicate. 
 
 A. All this is very true. 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 125 
 
 B. And, according to the character of your 
 mind thus formed, you are happy or miserable, 
 volatile, careless, painstaking, or impetuous. 
 These conditions of mind you cannot put away ; 
 but they have a marvellous influence upon your 
 happiness in this life. 
 
 A. I do not deny it. 
 
 B. Let us take another point of view. Are 
 there not numberless circumstances, the im- 
 portance of which we cannot estimate at the 
 time, which influence our future life ? 
 
 A. Yes, certainly. I suppose that deliberate 
 sloth or idleness in -youth, or, again, dissolute 
 behaviour and intemperance, bear their own 
 bitter fruit as prolifically as any weed that 
 infests j^our garden. 
 
 B. Your observation is most just. To put 
 it very briefly, I suppose you will acknow- 
 ledge that future prosperity in some degree, 
 future happiness (in this life) almost entirely, 
 depend upon prudence, using that word in its 
 widest and best sense of forethought and con- 
 sideration ? 
 
 A. All this I grant : and what does it prove ? 
 That, if a man will not follow the dictates of 
 reason and common sense, he must expect to 
 suffer for it. But what is all this to a state of 
 trial ? 
 
126 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. You do not do justice to the facts which 
 you have allowed. They prove much more 
 than that. In the first place, they show that 
 there are many things, not self-evident, in 
 practice, to which a man must submit if he 
 would be happ3^ 
 
 ^. I do not quite follow you. 
 
 B. Well, I suppose to be idle and do what 
 he pleases seems the most delightful life to a 
 school-boy : whereas, to be under discipline, to 
 apply his energies to his tasks, to do a great 
 many things not pleasing to him, are necessary 
 for his future well-being r^ 
 
 A. They are. 
 
 B. This, then, is one point established. In 
 the next place, we see that a certain character 
 of the mind is formed by circumstances, and 
 that, if that frame of mind be of one colour, 
 it conduces to happiness ; if of another, to un- 
 happiness. 
 
 A. This seems also to be true. However, I 
 am not sure that jovi are not proving too much. 
 But I will not at present stop to inquire whether 
 that is so or not. 
 
 B. Now let me ask you to substitute the 
 word virtue for prudence, and the life after 
 death for the pi^esent life, and state the result. 
 
 A. Well, I will not decline. So far as your 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 127 
 
 argument applies, it amounts to this : present 
 2)rudence is essential to future ivell-bewg in 
 this life; jyresent virtue is essential to future 
 happiness in the Ife after death. 
 
 B. And what ssiy you to the conclusion ? 
 
 A. Let me consider. Upon reflection, I do 
 not see that you have explained the benefit of 
 a state of trial. 
 
 B. But surely at present that is not the 
 question. Our present object is to see whether 
 the idea of a state of trial is uurcasonahle. 
 
 A. Is it fair to draw a comparison between 
 prudence and virtue ? Are not the induce- 
 ments to practise the one infinitely stronger 
 and more plain than they are to practise the 
 other ? 
 
 B. Possibly ; but then you should consider 
 that, on the whole, the former take efiect at a 
 much earlier stage of our existence than the 
 latter. 
 
 A. That is very true. 
 
 B. However, perhaps it will be better if you 
 state at length some of your particular ob- 
 jections to a state of probation. 
 
 A. It appears to me that we are possessed of 
 various affections and feelings which crave for 
 satisfaction. These various emotions are natu- 
 rally awakened by the presence of certain ex- 
 
128 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 ternal objects. The natural inference is that 
 these objects were intended to arouse those 
 emotions. Is not that so ? 
 
 B. Certainly. "We have these emotions, 
 and they are naturally aroused at the presence 
 of their appropriate objects. Those objects 
 were intended to awaken them. 
 
 A. But religion declares that we ought to 
 eradicate our natural desires, and to live as if 
 the external objects did not exist. 
 
 B. I must demur to that. Eeligion does 
 not require us to eradicate our moral nature. 
 It only commands us to use this world as not 
 abusing it. And this is no more than reason 
 requires in the management of our temporal 
 affairs. 
 
 A. But men succeed in this world without 
 doing violence to their natural affections. 
 
 B, Yes, and men attain to virtue without 
 doing violence to their moral nature. 
 
 A. But religion, or at all events the Christian 
 religion, leads its votaries into all kinds of 
 austerities. It encourages them to forego the 
 natural duties of home and family, and this by 
 the very injunction of its great Apostle, and at 
 the command of its Founder. 
 
 B. I will not pause to argue the passages 
 from Scripture to which you refer. I might, 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATIO^^ 129 
 
 indeed, show you that the same Person Who 
 seems to require the surrender of home and 
 friends and family for His sake, explains His 
 words by saying that whoever loves father 
 and mother more than Him is not worth}' of 
 Him. 
 
 A. But does not St. Paul counsel the sur- 
 render of all for Christ ? 
 
 JB. Most true, but he says no word about 
 monastic discipline and solitary life ; and, more 
 than this, he practised neither. 
 
 A. But yet you will not den}^ that he ap- 
 proves of great self-denial ? 
 
 B. And do not you also approve of self- 
 denial ? 
 
 A. Of course I do, only it must be with a 
 distinct purpose, and not as in itself meri- 
 torious. 
 
 B. Then, to my mind, you have but little to 
 complain of in St. Paul ; for, if you read his 
 writings carefully, you will find that the self- 
 discipline which he approves has always a very 
 distinct purpose. 
 
 A. And what purpose is that ? 
 
 B. That question will bo better answered by 
 considering what are the objects of self-denial 
 in reference to the present life. But, before 
 we go any farther, I should like you to be 
 
 I 
 
130 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 thoroughly satisfied that you have not made a 
 hasty concession. It is better to clear the 
 ground as we go ; and from the easy way in 
 which you allowed the expediency of self- 
 denial in this life, I am afraid you will regret 
 your haste. 
 
 A. No. I am satisfied with Milton's as- 
 sertion respecting fame, that it leads men 
 
 '' To scorn delights and live laborious days," 
 
 B. Is, then, fame the only thing which re- 
 quires self-denial ? 
 
 A. No, but it is the type of those things 
 which require it. Success of any kind — pros- 
 perity, health, vigorous thought — all these re- 
 quire great F^acrifices from men, and without 
 self-denial they are not attainable. 
 
 B. And yet all the while such men are sub- 
 ject to the same emotions and surrounded by 
 the same external circumstances as other men. 
 But they know that, if they give way to these, 
 they will fail of the objects which they desire. 
 What shall prevent us from saying, then, that 
 men are exposed to dangers in their temporal 
 capacity, and that these dangers form a con- 
 dition of trial and probation to them, analogous 
 to the condition in which Vv^e are placed with 
 reference to a future life ? 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 131 
 
 A. But you are taking an extreme case. A 
 man who is to attain to a high degree of success 
 must be eminently self-denying, but a very 
 moderate degree of self-restraint serves for an 
 ordinary life ; whereas religion requires extra- 
 ordinary self-restraint from all. 
 
 B. I do not think you speak justly about 
 the requirements of religion. The early 
 Christians, to be sure, underwent great pri- 
 vations, but this was from special circum- 
 stances. What religion requires from its 
 votaries is not an extraordinary, but a very 
 moderate self-restraint; not greater, in fact, 
 than many men put upon themselves for the 
 sake of a very moderate degree of success. Of 
 course dissolute and worldly people imagine 
 that the self-denial is enormous, but so do dis- 
 solute and unsteady young men consider the 
 self-restraint, which would probably afford them 
 health or a competence, intolerably irksome and 
 utterly unattainable. 
 
 A. I rather think your theologians would 
 complain, that you are setting a very low 
 standard of practice. 
 
 JB. And if they do, I can answer that the 
 degree of caution which leads to moderate 
 success in our temporal concerns — that is, 
 which enables a man to steer clear of troubles 
 
 T 9 
 
132 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 and misfortunes, and to pass through life with- 
 out attaining the extremes of what is called 
 either fortune — does not deserve to be very 
 highly commended. There is a loiv standard 
 of religious practice and a high standard, and 
 corresponding to these there is a low standard 
 of care and foresight in human affairs, and a 
 high standard. And there is nothing in re- 
 ligion to forbid the idea, that there are various 
 degrees of perfection and rewards proportioned 
 to the extent of the obedience to the Divine 
 will on the part of men. 
 
 A. But just consider this. I am told that 
 people will suffer for faults not their own. 
 Faults in education, errors arising from bad 
 example, and superstitious practices inherited 
 from our ancestors, over which we have no 
 control, are classed among matters for which 
 men are to be made to suffer. Is this just ? 
 
 B. Just or not, such a degree is only on a 
 par with what experience teaches us. 
 
 A. How is that ? 
 
 B. I thought we had disposed of these 
 questions. However, we will take them in 
 their order. Will you state your particular ob- 
 jections separately, or shall we take them all 
 together ? 
 
 A. It will be more satisfactory to take each 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 133 
 
 one by itself. Is it just that people sliould be 
 punisbed for faults in education ? 
 
 B. AYhy, half the misfortunes in life arise 
 from bad training. The principles inculcated 
 by degraded and vicious parents produce a 
 lamentable condition in their offspring. The 
 instances in which children rise above these 
 debasing influences are so rare as almost to 
 deserve the name of supernatural, even from 
 those who do not acknowledge Divine inter- 
 position. 
 
 A. But is that]vi^i? 
 
 B. We do not complain of it. There are 
 enough influences on the other side, if men 
 will only make use of them, to rescue them 
 from unhappiness. That they ivill not use 
 them is considered on all hands a crime, and 
 punished by society as such. And if it is not 
 unjust in society, why should it be unjust in 
 God? 
 
 A. Because God is a purely good Being. 
 
 B. In other words, your estimate of God is, 
 that He ought not to show Himself upon the 
 side of virtue ; but, if so, the course of nature 
 cannot have come from Him. 
 
 ^. I do not see the force of your argument. 
 B. Is it not plain that if God never manifests 
 any disapprobation of vice, but deals with the 
 
134 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 virtuous as with the "vicious, He cannot be the 
 Author of that course of nature in which, as a 
 fact, virtue on the whole tends to happiness, 
 and vice to misery ? 
 
 A. Well, then, let us pass on to the case of 
 punishment being inflicted upon those who err 
 from bad example. 
 
 B. In that case, we need hardly call in the 
 act of analogy. The two cases are identical. 
 The result of bad example in this life is always 
 misery, frequently despair, not rarely death. 
 
 A. But what w^ill you say to superstitions, 
 which are only religion carried to extrava- 
 gance ? 
 
 B. That, by the way^ is not a fair account of 
 superstitions. As a rule, they involve all kinds 
 of abuses, wicked licence, and gross immorality, 
 not to speak of fraud and deceit. The)'' substi- 
 tute external rites in the place of virtue. I 
 should compare superstition to fraudulent 
 principles, and perverted ideas as to the laws 
 of justice and equity in dealing with our 
 fellow-men. So long as they are confined to 
 mistaken opinions, the consequences are not 
 represented as so appalling as when they take 
 the form, which they almost invariably assume, 
 of a degradation of the moral perception. In 
 that case, whether with reference to our present 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 135 
 
 or our future prospects^ the result may well be 
 looked upon as terrible in the last degree. 
 
 A. Pardon me if I ask you to explain your 
 meaning. 
 
 B. I mean to say tliat, by the influence of 
 perverted ideas, carried out into practice, men 
 grow up gradually into a state of turpitude, 
 in which, they eventually are unable to dis- 
 cern what is really to their own advantage; 
 they acquire principles of conduct which 
 make them unendurable to society, and society 
 punishes them, with a rough and ready justice, 
 for their ignorance of right and wrong. And 
 yet these men, to all appearance, are not re- 
 sponsible for their own condition ; they suiFer 
 for the faults of others ; the bad principles 
 which they have derived from others are 
 punished in them. Thus the course of nature 
 in this world is very much analogous to what 
 religion teaches us of the operations of Provi- 
 dence in regard to a future life. 
 
 A. All this I confess. But my original 
 difficulty remains, that the ordinance of Pro- 
 vidence is unequal in its operation. 
 
 B. Unequal it may seem to us to be. But 
 yet we are not justified in charging God with 
 injustice, because, as I have often said, we are 
 only capable of looking on a part of the whole 
 
136 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 dispensation of things. Besides this, it is 
 possible that the account which religion gives 
 of the source of all this apparent inequality 
 may be the true one after all. 
 
 A. What is the explanation which you 
 refer to ? 
 
 B. I hardly like to enter upon it here, 
 because it belongs to another part of the 
 subject. Still, as it may throw a light upon 
 some obscurities, I will venture to introduce it. 
 Religion says that man is in a fallen condition. 
 
 A. Oh ! I know what you mean. The story 
 of Adam and Eve, and the serpent and the 
 forbidden fruit. I don't see how that will 
 explain punishing people for ignorance and 
 bad example ; because, if we accept the notion 
 of the Fall, Adam and Eve fell deliberately. 
 
 B. It is as I feared ; the introduction of this 
 topic irritates you. 
 
 A. Not in the least ; but I think it is nothing 
 to your point. 
 
 B. But I was not, at the moment, referring 
 to the mode or causes of man's degradation. I 
 was thinking of a passage in which it is said, 
 "God made men upright: but they have 
 sought out many inventions ;" and what I 
 wished to convey was, that our liability to 
 temptation may very possibly arise, in a great 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 137 
 
 measure, from our own inclination to follow the 
 feeling wliich happens to be strongest within 
 us at the time ; and that, in the course of time, 
 the selfish feelings have come so to preponderate 
 over all others, that what, in the first instance, 
 was but a gentle stimulus to activity becomes 
 a violent desire^ which carries all before it, and 
 pays no heed to the checks and restraints which 
 wisdom and prudence attempt to exercise. 
 
 A. I think that is not an unfair representa- 
 tion of the process through which the majority 
 of minds pass. 
 
 B. In that case you will see that, though 
 man's nature is faulty, it is not God, but man 
 himself, who has made temptations difficult to 
 resist. There is nothing in the circumstances 
 of his life to compel him to succumb under 
 temptation. On the contrary, a reasonable 
 amount of thought will restrain him from run- 
 ning into error. Whether he will exert that 
 reasonable forethought is another question, not 
 to be discussed here. 
 
 A. I shall not be satisfied till I see the ad- 
 vantage of a state of trial. Of what profit is 
 it to me to know that I am liable to make mis- 
 takes, and to suffer for those mistakes? My 
 own experience would tell me as much. But 
 how it is to instruct me in religion, or to ele- 
 
138 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 yate my moral nature, certainly does not 
 appear ; and, unless you can persuade me that 
 such is the use of a state of trial, I had rather 
 believe that the whole resemblance between the 
 doctrines of religion and the course of nature, 
 is a pure accident and a freak of imagina- 
 tion, no more real than the old idea that fire 
 must be the origin of all things, because the 
 flickerings and changes of the flame resemble 
 the mutabilit}^ of all human affairs. 
 
 B. I am not without hope that we shall find 
 some explanations of a state of trial which 
 may satisfy you, at least in part. But, at pre- 
 sent, all we have attempted to establish is, that 
 this doctrine is not unreasonable. In ordinary 
 life our happiness or misery depends in a great 
 measure on ourselves. Unless we employ the 
 necessary means to avoid the one and gain the 
 other — means not altogether pleasant, nor such 
 as we should choose for ourselves — the result is 
 failure — grievous, painful, irreparable failure. 
 
 A. So far your argument is unanswerable ; 
 and to this extent I accept your conclusions. 
 Happiness on earth is a condition not given to 
 us accomplished, but to be acquired : it cannot 
 be attained, if indeed it is attainable at all, 
 without difficulty : the acquisition of it is at- 
 tended with danger of failure, as is proved by 
 
A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATIONS'. 139 
 
 tlie actual failure of a large number to acquire 
 it. Men need attention and self-denial, wMcIl 
 they can exercise if they will. Now, if there 
 is a future life, as we have conceded pro- 
 visionally, it is not altogether unreasonable to 
 expect similar conditions for the attainment of 
 happiness therein. 
 
 B. But this is all that we undertook to 
 prove. 
 
 A. It is : but it is meagre fare after all. 
 You must find me more solid satisfaction than 
 this, or you will have done little for me. 
 
 B, Be it so. To-morrow we will continue our 
 investigations. But permit me to add to v»^hat 
 I have said, that we have only touched upon 
 the surface of this subject. The analogy be- 
 tween nature and religion is so very great in 
 this matter, that every day will present you 
 with striking illustrations of the mode in which 
 trial comes in as an element of our daily life, 
 And I am satisfied that the more you reflect 
 upon it the more you will find reason to recall 
 the words you have just spoken, that, in default 
 of further evidence, you will consider the re- 
 semblance a mere accident, and no proof what- 
 ever of the identity of the Author of Nature 
 with the God of Religion. 
 
 A. I will bear in mind what you say, and 
 
140 ON A STATE OF TRIAL OR PROBATION. 
 
 try what my own experience declares upon this 
 subject. I confess I see a dark shadow be- 
 ginning to loom over the whole question — a 
 phantom which I know not how to lay. How 
 soon we shall have to deal with it I know not ; 
 but what we have done to-day will be enough 
 to occupy me till we meet again. 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF :M0RAL I)ISCI^LI^-E. 141 
 
 DIALOGUE Y. 
 
 ON LIFE CONSIDERED AS A STATE OF MORAL 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 A. A VERY interesting question has engaged 
 my attention since yesterday; but, judging 
 from previous experience, I suspect you will 
 not allow yourself to be drawn into a discussion 
 upon the subject. I have been trying to discover 
 how mankind, considered as the creatures of 
 an all-good Being, and primarily, at all events, 
 inclined to aspire to the imitation of their 
 Creator, can have sunk into the state of trial 
 in which they actually are found. 
 
 B. You are right. I should be most unwill- 
 ing to enter into the question, especially at the 
 present stage of our argument. In the first 
 place, I do not see what advantage such an 
 inquiry could be expected to produce. It is 
 just one of those speculative questions which 
 perplex without satisfying the mind. To at- 
 tempt to reason out, on a priori principles, the 
 intentions and purposes of God always leaves 
 
142 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the inquirer unsatisfied. In the next place, it 
 is confessedly beyond the scope of our present 
 conversations, which aim at comparing the 
 facts of human life, as known by experience, 
 with the doctrines asserted in religion. And, 
 thirdly, we have not yet considered the ques- 
 tion of the credibility of revelation, in which a 
 sufficient explanation of your present inquiry 
 is found. But may I not hope that you will 
 be satisfied with a cognate question, which 
 incidentally may throw some small light upon 
 this matter ? 
 
 A. To what do you refer ? 
 
 B. Shall we not, think you, find ample scope 
 for inquiry in the question, 'Tor what purpose 
 are we placed in a condition of trial ?'^ 
 
 A, Certainly ; if you will answer that ques- 
 tion I shall be very well satisfied. To me it 
 appears a more difficult question than the other. 
 I cannot conceive what advantage there is in 
 being exposed to the danger of failure in duty, 
 when such failure is to be visited with gricA'Ous 
 consequences. 
 
 B. May I ask you, then, what idea you form 
 of a future existence ? 
 
 A. I picture to myself a condition in which 
 men will be free from all weakness and faulti- ' 
 ness. The faculties, which here they possess in 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 143 
 
 imperfection, will be made perfect. The pain- 
 ful, laborious acquisition of knowledge, which 
 forms the weak point in the purely intellectual 
 side of human nature, will have ceased; memory 
 will not be fallacious; processes of reasoning 
 will cease to be necessary, and all knowledge 
 Y/ill be by intuition. The power of grasping 
 at one view a vastly extended range of truth 
 will have been acquired : and though absolute 
 science, perhaps, must be impossible to any but 
 the All- Wise, our acquaintance with the prin- 
 ciples and purposes of the universe will, as 
 compared with our present knowledge, deserve 
 to be called infinite. 
 
 B. So much for the intellect. I will onty 
 interrupt you so far as to point out one word 
 which you have perhaps unconsciously used — 
 the word " acquired : " to that we may have to 
 recur. I cordially accept your view of our 
 intellectual condition ; and what will you say 
 of the moral side of human nature ? 
 
 ^. In a future state all our emotions and 
 afiections wdll be exercised to their full extent, 
 but without conflicting with one another. 
 There will be no opposing interests to excite 
 and irritate the soul — no envyings, quarrellings, 
 or contests for supremacy. A due proportion 
 will be observed between the various portions 
 
144 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 of our nature ; passion will give way to prin- 
 ciple in every department of our souls' energies ; 
 a general regard to the welfare of the society 
 in which we then shall exist will actuate us, so 
 that selfishness will disappear from the elements 
 of our nature. Thus love, truth, disinterested- 
 ness will be the moving principles of our lives. 
 B. I have forborne to interrupt you in the 
 lofty description of a future state which you 
 have presented. Whether you are quite con- 
 sistent in admitting emotion and yet excluding 
 passion may be a question. What think you ? 
 
 A. By emotion I mean simply a movement 
 of the soul towards an object ; by passion, a 
 violent, and therefore perilous, impulse. 
 
 B. With that explanation I am satisfied. 
 There is, however^ one point which you have 
 omitted. What feelings or dispositions will 
 exist in the individual soul towards the God of 
 all spirits ? 
 
 A. Unmixed and perfect love. 
 
 B. But tell me. However purified the soul 
 may be, God will still be infinitely above it. 
 It will not comprehend all His counsels : it will 
 not even then know all His decrees. Are 
 there, then, no additional dispositions to be 
 assigned to the soul in reference to God ? 
 
 A. I had not thought of this. 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 145 
 
 B. Do 3' ou not think we may fairly assign to 
 the soul, without detracting from its exaltation, 
 a loving awe of the Almighty, a loving sub- 
 missiveness to His authority ? 
 
 A. I think we must. 
 
 B. And now we are in a position to proceed 
 with our inquiry, '' Of what benefit is a state of 
 trial to man ?" 
 
 A. You have entrapped me into a somewhat 
 rhetorical flight respecting a future life ; but I 
 was not aware you were going to employ it 
 against me. 
 
 B. Surely not. Pray retract anything you 
 have said, if you think fancy has run away 
 with you. 
 
 A. Is'o, no ; I do not mean that. But I can- 
 not quite understand what your line of argu- 
 ment is going to be. 
 
 B. That will very much depend upon you. 
 Still, I have a general idea of what the line of 
 my argument will be ; and as this is not a trial 
 by jury, and I trust I am not a special pleader, 
 I will willingly explain my present object. 
 The question before us is, " How is this life re- 
 lated to the life after death ?'' Is not that so ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 B. Eeligion declares that it is a preparation 
 for it, does it not ? 
 
 K 
 
146 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. It does. 
 
 B. And you wish to know how it is a pre- 
 paration ? 
 
 ^. I very mucli wish to understand this 
 point. 
 
 B. The idea which religion inculcates is that 
 it is a state of discipline for that future life. 
 Will you tell me what you understand by dis- 
 cipline ? 
 
 A. I take it to signify a state of preparation — 
 a condition in which instruction is given, facul- 
 ties are trained, and faults and eccentricities 
 toned down. 
 
 B. And now do you understand why I asked 
 you for your ideas of a future life ? 
 
 A. I suppose you are going to show how the 
 circumstances of this life afford opportunities 
 for instruction, training, and the removal of 
 faults from the character. 
 
 B. You are partially correct ; but to do so 
 we must be able to compare the circumstances 
 of the present with the future life, and then to 
 compare the opportunities of discipline afforded 
 for the two states of existence respectively. 
 
 ^. I do not quite follow you. In order to 
 your analogy you ought to be able to express it 
 mathematically, thus : as A : B :: C : D. Now 
 I see what your third and fourth terms are. The 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLI^'E. 147 
 
 latter ratio will run thus : So are the opportu- 
 nities for discipline in this life to the future 
 state. Thus your C will be opportunities for 
 discipline in this life, and your D will be the 
 state after death. But now, if you draw out the 
 first ratio, A : B, I do not see what your first 
 term will be. The second will be the present life. 
 B. Let me see if I cannot help you. A future 
 life will be the maturity to which the present 
 tends. Let us call B the mature state of the 
 present life, and then, perhaps, you will be able 
 to say what A is. 
 
 A. It must stand for the condition of child- 
 hood and youth. 
 
 B. You are quite right. Do you now under- 
 stand why I have elicited from you an idea of 
 what a future life will probably be ? 
 
 A. I think I perceive your drift. You are 
 going to trace a resemblance between the state 
 of childhood as a preparation for manhood, and 
 our state in the present as a discipline for a 
 future existence. 
 
 B. That is my idea. Do you think it fea- 
 sible ? 
 
 A. I can hardly say at present, till you open 
 out your argument. 
 
 B. What do you consider to be the advantage 
 of the periods of childhood and youth ? 
 
 K 2 
 
148 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 A. I should say they were a time of growth 
 from ignorance to knowledge, and from a con- 
 dition of emotion and passion to fixed prin- 
 ciples. 
 
 B. Excellent ! I^ow, do you think that the 
 knowledge of a man in mature life is as much 
 greater than his ignorance in childhood, as the 
 combined knowledge of all things would be 
 greater than the information possessed by any 
 man alive ? 
 
 A. J^o. I certainly imagine that even the 
 most learned man has but a fragmentary know- 
 ledge ; his amplest information is but a mere 
 point in the infinite ocean of space and time. 
 
 B. Well, then, if any one objects to us that 
 it is not fair to draw any analogy between mature 
 manhood and infancy, we are prepared with an 
 answer to him, are we not ? 
 
 A. Yes; we should say that his very objec- 
 tion shows how ignorant he is of his own 
 ignorance. 
 
 JB. Well, with my consent, we should not say 
 that, because we might offend him, and then 
 he would be found a child in quite another 
 way. 
 
 A. How is that ? 
 
 JB. Why, he would be irritated, and refuse to 
 listen to our reasonings, and put them aside 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 149 
 
 scornfully as the fancies of idiots and dreamers ; 
 and SO he would become more and more a child, 
 and, as he grew more unreasonable, would 
 establish for us a second point, that even a wise 
 man, who has used this life to acquire self- 
 restraint, is very little better than a child ; for 
 if anj^thing crosses him he is irritated and 
 unreasonable, which are the characteristics of a 
 child. 
 
 A. Well, I think with you that the majority 
 of men are mere children, when their passions 
 and inclinations are concerned ; they seem 
 entirely unable to exercise any self-control, or 
 see anything but what lies just before them in 
 the high road of their inclination. 
 
 B. And yet, I suppose, you will allow that, if 
 men made a proper use of the days of childhood 
 and youth, this wretched want of self-mastery 
 would not exist ? 
 
 A. Yes ; for I see some men — not a very 
 numerous class indeed, but still some — who have 
 m.anaged to bring their natural passions and 
 emotions under proper discipline. 
 
 Jj. And should you say that such men were 
 the most miserable or not ? 
 
 A. I should say that, on the whole, they are 
 the most happy men. 
 
 B. And yet do you not find men, possessed of 
 
150 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the greatest self-restraint, who are yet worn out 
 with anxiety by the cares of life ? I mention 
 this, lest some one should say to us afterwards 
 that we are not fair in our arguments. 
 
 A.lfl rightly understand jou, you refer to 
 those men who have subdued all their passions, 
 not under reason, but under one ruling passion, 
 as ambition. I should not call those men self- 
 disciplined. 
 
 B. And shall we say that these are the only 
 men who are not self-disciplined ? 
 
 A, I think we must include the majority of 
 men in this category. 
 
 jB. Are we to assume, therefore, that child- 
 hood is not fitted to be a state of discipline for 
 manhood, because the majority of men do not 
 find it so ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. We are to assume it to be 
 what its nature proves it to be, and that is a 
 condition peculiarly fitted for a discipline for 
 mature age, however small be the use which 
 men make of it. 
 
 B. And do you see what this proves ? 
 
 A. What?'^ 
 
 B. Does it not show that if any one should 
 object that this life cannot be a state of dis- 
 cipline for the next, on the ground that religion 
 and facts both aorree in declaring? that men do 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 151 
 
 not make it so, we must reply that the same 
 objection will lie against the idea of childhood 
 and youth being a state of discipline for man- 
 hood, which they plainly are ? 
 
 A. It does prove that. 
 
 jB. Having now settled these questions before- 
 hand, we are in a position to discuss the matter 
 of principal moment to us. 
 
 A. What is that ? 
 
 B. Why, that this life is a fit discipline for 
 the life which you depicted at the commence- 
 ment of our conversation to-day. 
 
 A. I understand. 
 
 B. And do you not think that the best way 
 to do this will be to inquire how far childhood 
 and youth are fitted to be a discipline for man- 
 hood ? 
 
 A. Certainly ; I think that that is the only 
 possible course. 
 
 B. And do you think this is a very easy 
 inquiry ? 
 
 A. Why not ? 
 
 B. Is it an easy thing to trace the growth of 
 character, the fading of passions and emotions, 
 and the substitution of principles in their room ? 
 It is not like an experiment in chemistry, where 
 you may actually realize by the senses, in a short 
 time, results which perhaps have cost the dis- 
 
152 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 coverer years of patient inquiry. Here ex- 
 periment is out of the question, and we can only 
 draw inferences from our own experience. Do 
 you agree with me ? 
 
 A. I certainly think that inquiries into 
 mental and moral phenomena are less real, less 
 to be relied on, than those in physical science. 
 
 JB. We will not dispute as to the respective 
 certainty of the two departments of thought ; 
 it is sufficient that you concede that it is far 
 more difficult to arrive at a certainty in mental 
 than it is in physical science. Shall I com- 
 mence the inquir}^ ? 
 
 A. Pray do so. 
 
 B. Shall you agree with me, if I saj that he 
 was right, who said of human life that " one 
 thing is set over against another " ? 
 
 A. You appear to be making game of me, 
 and asking me a riddle. 
 
 B. I ask your pardon for my obscurity. Is 
 it true, then, that human nature is adapted to 
 the circumstances of human life ? 
 
 A. Perfectly true. 
 
 J5. And does it not follow from this that the 
 faculties of mind and body in man are actually 
 suited to his position in this world ? 
 
 A. No doubt they are : even Mr. Darwin 
 grants this. 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 153 
 
 B. So far as my present argument goes I 
 trust I shall not be found at variance witli so 
 keen an observer as Mr. Darwin. And are not 
 tliese faculties capable of great improvement ? 
 
 A. Of the very greatest. 
 
 B, So much so, that it is at least imaginable, 
 that the degree of excellence attained by a man 
 in this world is not the greatest possible : is it 
 not so ? 
 
 A. Yes : otherwise the doctrine of progress 
 would have no meaning. 
 
 B. I am glad to find my ideas so modern. 
 Well now, this human nature (if you will 
 pardon my vague scholasticism), which is 
 capable of so indefinite a growth, does grow 
 in this w^orld to a certain extent ; and the 
 process of its growth may be described as a 
 passage from habits to principles. If you test 
 the development of your own nature, you will 
 find that originally you were subject to single 
 impressions and single emotions. For example : 
 in early childhood you saw, it may be, a tree in 
 the garden ; and when you w^ere close up to it, 
 you saw that it was huge, tall, and knotted ; at 
 a distance it appeared smaller, lower, and 
 smooth. By a number of such observations, 
 most of them quite unconsciously performed, 
 you acquired the habit, which you now possess, 
 
154 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 of judging accurately of distances, of size, and 
 the other phenomena of vision, by the eye. 
 You, who are an artist, will be able to realize 
 how 3"ou acquired this habit of accuracy, be- 
 cause you have had to go back over the process, 
 in order to appreciate the rules of j^our art. 
 
 A. I am satisfied that accuracy of eye, even 
 the ordinary precision by which every one 
 judges of height and distance, is a product of 
 habitual comparison unconsciously exercised. 
 
 J3. Is not memory a habit of the same kind ? 
 
 A. I should hardly have dared to compare 
 the two, because the habit of judging of height 
 and distance is so much more common than 
 precision of memory. 
 
 B. Are you not confounding excellence in 
 each case ? This is just one of the instances to 
 which I referred when I spoke of the difficulty 
 of judging facts in these inquiries. You seem 
 to think that memory is a much rarer faculty 
 than the power of judging by the eye. 
 
 A, And do not you think it is, also ? 
 
 JB. What are we to say to the power of lan- 
 guage ? Every word we use implies a process 
 of comparison and observation; and not onl}^ 
 of these, but also of memory. It is a very 
 remarkable exercise of memory to attach to 
 each thing which falls under our observation 
 
LTFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 155 
 
 its appropriate name ; and to be able, at will, to 
 recall the thing at the mention of the name, or 
 the name at the perception of the thing. And 
 I reallj^ believe that you would find that 
 memory is more universal and more accurate 
 than the faculty of judging by the eye. 
 
 A. I confess I was mistaken. 
 
 B. So that in questions connected with the 
 senses, as well as in purely mental operations, 
 men are capable by practice, or, which is the 
 same thing, by the acquisition of habits, of 
 growing to a much higher state of perfection 
 than that in which they are first placed. 
 
 A. This seems certain. 
 
 £. Let us now turn to what we may call the 
 moral or active side of human nature. Do you 
 think that the same observations hold good 
 here ? 
 
 A. Most assuredly they do. The first stage 
 of existence is one in which there are all sorts 
 of inclinations and propensities. Children are 
 always under the influence of what we may call 
 passions, or, more strictly, emotions. If it were 
 not for these they could not live. As they grow 
 older, the constant repetition of acts produces 
 habits ; and the more often they act in a par- 
 ticular way, the more decided does the habit 
 become. 
 
156 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 B. But, tell me, do you think that men can 
 become virtuous without acts ? 
 
 ^. No ; I do not. 
 
 B. It is not enough to make a man virtuous 
 for him to form pictures of virtue, and run over 
 them in his mind, is it ? 
 
 A. Oh, no ! Some of the most ostentatiously 
 active preachers of virtue have been found to 
 be sadly wanting in practice. 
 
 B. It is quite evident, then, that, for the 
 practice of virtue or any excellence, the oppor- 
 tunity of acquiring habits must be afforded. 
 Men must be placed in such a condition that 
 they may act repeatedly in the same way. 
 More than this, they must have perpetual in- 
 ducements so to act ; for, if not, they will not 
 perform the actions, and so will not acquire 
 the habit of virtue. 
 
 A. All this is ver}^ true. 
 
 B. I said just now that the course of human 
 life is a gradual change from passion to prin- 
 ciple. Do 3'ou now understand what I in- 
 tended by those words ? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. And do you think I have made out my case? 
 A. I think you have, so far as you have 
 
 gone. But, tell me, are the passions, as j^ou call 
 them, non-existent in the mature man ? ^ 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 157 
 
 B. JSTon-existent is scarcely tlie right word. 
 The seed ought not to be called non-existent 
 when it has developed into the tree with all its 
 leaves and branches. Yet the tree is not more 
 different from the seed than habits are from 
 emotions. However — to answer your question — 
 it cannot be denied that, as habits of action 
 grow stronger and more confirmed, the feelings 
 from which these habits spring grow less 
 powerful. For example : what is the natural 
 impulse on perceiving distress ? 
 
 A. To feel compassion for it. 
 
 B. Is that all ? 
 
 A. To relieve it. 
 
 B. Suppose you set yourself constantly to 
 relieve distress in others, does your sense of 
 pity grow more or less acute ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly the sight of distress is less 
 painful to those who are inured to it. 
 
 B. And yet it is by no means necessary 
 that they should be less willing to relieve 
 it. 
 
 A. JN'o. They may be just as willing, as 
 others who are 'new to it, and they certainly 
 are far more capable of relieving it. 
 
 B. Let us take another instance. "What is 
 the natural result of perceiving that you are in 
 danger? 
 
158 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. First, alarm ; and, secondly, a desire to 
 escape. 
 
 B. Suppose 3^ou are constantly placed in a 
 similar state of danger, does your alarm con- 
 tinue as vivid as at first ? 
 
 A. Is'o ; we get inured to it. 
 JB. And are you less able to avoid th.e danger 
 than before ? 
 
 A. I suppose I snould be far better able to 
 meet it than when I first met with it. 
 
 B. So that in this instance as well, although 
 the emotions which arouse you to action have 
 grown weaker, the habits which they give rise 
 to are so firmly fixed in your constitution, as 
 to remove the necessity for the keenness of the 
 emotions. Let us take one more instance before 
 we go on. The first time you were brought 
 into contact with death, did it not shock you 
 much more than it does now that you have 
 seen the constant inroads of death among your 
 friends and acquaintances ? 
 
 A. Certainly. I well recollect the blight- 
 ing and appalling sensation with which I heard 
 for the first time of the death of a relation. 
 He was a person whom I scarcely knew, but 
 the fact of his death threw a gloom over me 
 for days. The idea of a separation such as 
 death J hiding him utterly from all who knew 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 159 
 
 him, was awful and incompreliensible to me ; 
 but, now that I have seen friend after friend 
 taken away, though I grieve for the loss I suffer, 
 I have almost entirely lost the terrors which I 
 first felt at the thought of the approach of death. 
 B. And yet j^ou have learned to adapt your 
 life to the fact that death is universal. I am 
 not now speaking with reference to a future 
 life. But you have arranged your affairs, made 
 various preparations against the contingency of 
 sudden death ; but, besides this, you have 
 gained a settled habit of mind adapted to a 
 condition so uncertain as the present life. Is 
 this not so ? 
 
 A. I believe it is. 
 
 B. And thus we see that passive impressions, 
 however made upon our minds, by admonition, 
 example, or experience, tend to produce actions, 
 and actions lead to habits. Habits once formed 
 react upon our nature ; they keep under and 
 restrain contrary inclinations ; they remove 
 apparent difficulties, and thus what appeared 
 difficult and repulsive becomes pleasant and 
 attractive, and men acquire a new character, 
 and a new condition of life, such as nature did 
 not give, but in the acquisition of which it 
 acted as guide. 
 
 A, All this seems beyond question. 
 
IGO DIALOGUE OX 
 
 B. Can you imagine any other way by wliicli 
 men could be prepared for the career of mature 
 life, except by the gradual acquisition of 
 habits ? 
 
 A. No, I do not think I can ; for, even if we 
 suppose that men were created with faculties 
 fully developed, it is a very great question 
 whether they would be as well suited to the 
 circumstances of life as now they are. For 
 example, their sense of sight would be most 
 deceptive; and although in children, whose 
 faculties are undeveloped, this is of small im- 
 portance, inasmuch as the care of others pro- 
 vides for them, it would have a much greater 
 effect upon creatures whose powers of mind 
 and body were in a high state of development. 
 But this would be of small importance com- 
 pared with other dangers to which they would 
 be exposed. 
 
 B. Will you tell me to what you refer ? 
 
 A. I mean dangers arising from their igno- 
 rance of their own powers compared with 
 those of nature— ignorance of the means by 
 which various ends must be attained. Then, 
 again, the habits of body and mind would be 
 brought into exercise upon unsuitable occasions, 
 because even a perfect nature is not a simple 
 thing, but a complex whole made up of prin- 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 161 
 
 ciples, not indeed antagonistic, but different, 
 and suited for different ciroumstances. 
 
 B. If I understand you aright, you are of 
 opinion that men in their mature state are 
 quite unsuited to deal with the world, unless 
 they have gone through the natural training of 
 childhood and youth. 
 
 A. Yes ; to introduce a full-grown man 
 without preparation into that complex condi- 
 tion which we call society, would be very much 
 the same thing as introducing him into a new 
 trade without instruction. He would have to 
 learn the use of the various instruments, the 
 nature of the substances with which he had to 
 deal, the modes of treatment suited to each ; 
 and even then he would without doubt make a 
 great many unsuccessful attempts before he 
 was even moderately skilful, and probably after 
 all would be a very far inferior workman to 
 one of less natural ability, but practised in the 
 occupations from childhood. 
 
 B. And in the same way, I suppose, a man 
 born with all his faculties developed, would be 
 far less able to cope with the world than one 
 who had gradually grown up to it, and learned 
 where to forbear and where to insist— what 
 is of vital importance, and what is indifferent ? 
 
 A. Exactly so ; and, besides, we must bear 
 
 L 
 
162 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 this in mind. Knowing what men are, and 
 how they are liable to be deceived and misled 
 by circumstances, it is highly probable that, in 
 consequence of their ignorance of the world 
 in which they live, they would make grievous 
 and fatal mistakes, and render society far less 
 endurable than it is now. 
 
 B. All this is very satisfactory. I do not 
 think we shall have much difficulty now in 
 seeing that childhood and youth are a neces- 
 sary preparation for manhood, and that without 
 them the present condition of the world would 
 be utterly unendurable. 
 
 A. Yes ; but you seem to forget that all this 
 undermines one of the prime doctrines of your 
 religion. Your story of Adam and Eve, full- 
 grown man and woman, falls to the ground, 
 crumbling under your involuntary assaults. 
 
 B. I do not see that. Adam and Eve were 
 not, strictly speaking, born into a state of 
 society; the very condition of their origin 
 necessitated that they should not be dependent 
 on the care of others, which is the essential of 
 childhood. Moreover, the story is so far consis- 
 tent, that the world into which they were born 
 was one on which sin, misery, and death had not 
 set their seal ; they had not the same tempta- 
 tions, the same struggle for existence which 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 163 
 
 their descendants have to endure. However, I 
 am not now arguing for the truth or falsehood 
 of the history of Adam. What I have said is, I 
 think, sufficient to meet your present objection. 
 
 A. Well, I will allow it to pass : only recol- 
 lect it is a point reserved. 
 
 JB. So be it. Now let us continue. You 
 grant, do you not, that childhood is a necessary 
 discipline for mature life ? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. And that you cannot well conceive how, 
 without some such discipline, life could be made 
 endurable ? 
 
 A. This also I grant. 
 
 B. Now let us turn to a future life. You 
 have said that such a life must be conceived of, 
 as the consummation of this. Whatever is 
 here imperfect must there be perfect, and 
 nothing that is not a plain growth of evil in 
 this world need be considered as excluded from 
 the future life. Is not that your description ? 
 
 ^. Yes, certainly; I consider that all our 
 faculties, adequately trained, will have their 
 exercise in a future life. T^do not see why we 
 should consider that that life will be other than 
 a state of societ}^. 
 
 B. Then, if so, it must appear no unreason- 
 able doctrine that our faculties may have the 
 
164 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 opportunity of adequate training in this life, 
 and that we shall be able to acquire such a 
 character as will fit us for such a society. 
 
 A. Assuredly not. 
 
 B. Now, suppose that men were created in 
 this world without any tendency to pursue 
 wrong courses, with no bias towards evil, would 
 there be any necessity for a state of discipline ? 
 
 A, I should have thought not. 
 
 B. Consider it in this way. The very notion 
 of an active being, like man, is that he should 
 have emotions to incline him to act. Is it not ? 
 
 A. Assuredly. 
 
 B. Every emotion implies its contrary, does 
 it not ? 
 
 A. I really cannot say. 
 
 B. If we are inclined to act in a certain 
 way, may we not be inclined to act in the 
 opposite way ? 
 
 A. That seems to be implied in the idea of 
 inclination. 
 
 B. One of these ways is right and the other 
 is wrong. Now, whatever be the means by 
 which we distinguish between right and wrong, 
 it is evident that, if we may be inclined to 
 choose what we know to be right, we may 
 equally be inclined to choose the opposite. If 
 we choose the one, constantly and deliberately, 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 165 
 
 we acquire habits of virtue ; and if we choose 
 the other, constantly and deliberately, we ac- 
 quire habits of vice. Do j^ou admit this ? 
 
 A. I have already done so. 
 
 B. Well, then, will you not further admit 
 that, until virtuous habits are formed, a being 
 created sinless may fall into sin ? 
 
 ^. I do not follow j^our argument. 
 
 B. Every time an object is presented to our 
 mind, which is naturally desirable, but cannot 
 be lawfully obtained, there is a natural incli- 
 nation towards it which is restrained in the 
 virtuous by their principles. Still the emotion 
 is felt. Every time that it is allowed to dwell in 
 the mind, there is so far a dereliction from what 
 is right, and a tendency to sin. Such a tendency 
 seems to inhere in the very idea of inclination. 
 Do you now understand my meaning ? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. So, then, even for a sinless being, a field 
 of discipline is required, in which he may 
 practise virtuous acts, acquire virtuous habits, 
 and gain for himself that character of mind 
 which alone is suitable for a future life, such 
 as we have contemplated. He cannot afford to 
 do without such a state of discipline as may 
 teach him what are the essentials of a perfectly 
 peaceful and holy society. His virtuous prin- 
 
166 ])IALOGUE ON 
 
 ciples would require to be improved, his in- 
 clinations to be educated and taught restraint. 
 And such a creature, though he had never 
 sinned, would be in a higher state of perfection, 
 than he would be, were it possible for him to 
 remain in that sinless condition with which he 
 began. 
 
 A. Plainly that is so ; for in the one case 
 he would only not have done wrong ; in the 
 other he would be, in a manner, unable to do 
 wrong; and this would certainly be an im- 
 provement. 
 
 B. Well, then, even for a perfectly un- 
 corrupt nature, such a discipline, as this life 
 affords, would be beneficial. But take men as 
 they really are, with a greater inclination to 
 vice than virtue, the slaves of their passions, 
 and prone ever to pursue the first inclination 
 which seizes them, without an attempt to con- 
 sider its consequences or resist its influence, 
 of such would you not say that they required 
 discipline to wear out vicious habits, to recover 
 their primitive state of self-government, which 
 indulgence has weakened, to repair the moral 
 sentiments within them in order that they may 
 at length arrive at a secure state of virtuous 
 happiness ? 
 
 A. I consider* that you exaggerate the evil 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 167 
 
 tendencies of human nature; nevertheless, I 
 am bound to confess that men do fall very far 
 short of absolute virtue ; that vice and selfish- 
 ness are very powerful in the world. But if 
 this life is, as you imply, eminently suited 
 for a state of moral discipline, why does 
 it not serve its purpose more efiectually ? 
 for men do not use it for a sphere of improve- 
 ment. 
 
 B. It would not be a state of moral discipline 
 if men were compelled to improve under it. 
 The very idea of moral discipline implies that 
 men may or may not make use of it for their 
 improvement. The whole notion of free agency, 
 upon which virtue depends, would be done away 
 with if every man were obliged to act virtuously. 
 
 A. But are you so sure that this life does 
 afford such opportunities for improvement ? 
 
 B, No man can walk about the world with 
 his eyes open, and see the miseries men bring 
 upon themselves for want of self-restraint, by 
 following their inclinations, and giving the 
 reins to un governed passion, without knowing 
 that these things are evil, and that self- 
 discipline is essential to happiness. 
 
 A. But self-discipline surely will not be 
 required in a world where there are no temp- 
 tations ? 
 
168 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. Even if it be not, which may perhaps be 
 not altogether certain, the temper of mind 
 which self-discipline creates may be necessary. 
 
 A. What! can anything unpleasant be neces- 
 sary in a state of happiness ? 
 
 B. Self- discipline may be painful in the 
 acquisition : it may require much watchfulness, 
 care, and trouble. But the whole tendency of 
 our argument is to show that things, painful at 
 first by reason of the stress of attention which 
 they demand, lose their painfulness as they 
 grow into habits, and may even become plea- 
 surable. This certainly is the case in all mental 
 energies ; for they who have toiled to gain pro- 
 ficiency feel a pleasure in the exercise of their 
 improved faculties. And if observation can 
 prove anything in these matters, the virtuous 
 feel a pleasure in their self-restraint. 
 
 A. But, after all, your argument amounts to 
 this : that men are virtuous and pious from 
 fear and selfish motives, and hence your idea 
 of discipline degrades religion. 
 
 B. Pardon me ; if I do what God commands, 
 because He commands it, my act is obedience, 
 whether I obey Him through hope or fear ; and 
 a continuance of such actions will produce a 
 habit of obedience. And if I speak the truth 
 and do what is just and charitable, however 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 169 
 
 much I may begin from lower motives, I shall 
 end by acquiring habits of truth, justice, and 
 veracity. No mistake is greater, no reasoning 
 more distinctly sophistical, than that which 
 refuses to see higher motives, because the action 
 of lower motives may be discerned as well. If 
 it is the case that obedience, love of truth and 
 justice, and charitable conduct are coincident 
 with our own chief interest, that is only a proof 
 of the wisdom and goodness of God, who has 
 made all things to combine for our improvement. 
 
 A. Certainly that is a new idea to me, and a 
 very valuable one. 
 
 J3. And now let us return to that with which 
 we commenced — your idea of a future state. 
 The discipline of the present life is such that 
 all the faculties of our souls may be taught to 
 work in harmony. They may be reduced to 
 order and regularity ; undisciplined, they may 
 be compared to the discord produced by the 
 ignorant combination of sweet sounds. They 
 are like the strumming of a child upon an 
 organ. Disciplined and restrained, they re- 
 semble the harmonious measure of a great 
 musician, in which each note attains to just 
 the fulness which the master wills. There is 
 no discord, there are no unseemly risings and 
 fallings, but all works together as a finished 
 
170 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 whole. Such is evidently the condition of a 
 well-disciplined soul, which has learned by 
 long experience the harmony of its existence. 
 
 A. In all this I am inclined to acquiesce : 
 and yet there is one point in your argument 
 which does not seem to be clearly made out. 
 
 B, What is it, may I ask ? 
 
 A. It is this. Granting that this life is a 
 suitable sphere for calling our faculties into 
 play, for restraining them in their exercise, and 
 giving to each its proper strength and activity, 
 there is still one quality, or rather one aggre- 
 gate of qualities, which is proclaimed to be of the 
 very essence of religion, for which we can have 
 no possible use in a future life of happiness. I 
 mean resignation. 
 
 B. To put it otherwise, you are of opinion 
 that there will be no opj^ortunifi/ for the exer- 
 cise of this quality in another life ? 
 
 A. That is precisely my meaning. 
 
 B. Do you think that prosperity or adversity 
 is the best discipline for resignation ? 
 
 A. Adversity, to be sure. Prosperity is no 
 discipline for this quality. 
 
 B. Now, to me, it seems that prosperity is, 
 or might be, almost as good a discipline for it 
 as adversity. The rich, the prosperous, and the 
 fortunate, are met by quite as many obstacles 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 171 
 
 as the poor ; and I question very mucli whether, 
 as a rule, those obstacles are not more painful 
 to them, than the hardships of the others are to 
 them. This, you will justly observe, is because 
 prosperity is no discipline to them. But it 
 proves the need of resignation, and points out 
 how that, for the acquisition of happiness, all men 
 must make this life a means of self-discipline. 
 
 A. But how will that resignation serve them 
 in another life ? 
 
 B. Is it not possible that, though there will 
 be no trials to such as have learned self-dis- 
 cipline, the frame of mind which the exercise 
 of resignation creates may be absolutely essen- 
 tial to happiness ? I will hazard an illustration 
 on this subject which, perhaps, may make my 
 meaning clearer. Do you expect that men in 
 a future life will know all things ? 
 
 A. No ; for if so, they would be equal to God. 
 
 B. But is it not natural to desire fresh know- 
 ledge ? 
 
 A. Assuredly. 
 
 B. And is it not certain that some limitation 
 must be placed to our knowledge ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly. 
 
 B. But how will it be possible to restrain 
 this craving without the exercise of resignation 
 to the Divine decree ? 
 
172 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. But how, then, will tlie future life be one 
 of absolute happiness ? 
 
 B. Because men will have learned a habit 
 of mind, which will prevent them from re- 
 pining, or desiring what they cannot attain. 
 Without this, I do not hesitate to affirm that 
 the future life might become miserable. 
 
 A. And you think that temptation can reach 
 us in a future life ? 
 
 B. Certainly not ; but the reason is, not that 
 the occasions of failure are absent, but that, to 
 perfectly disciplined souls, they cease to be 
 temptations ; they present no allurements or 
 inducements to transgress. Temptation im- 
 plies external objects acting upon emotions 
 existing ivithin us ; and it matters not whether 
 the objects are actually removed, or the emotions 
 cease to be aroused by them inordinately and 
 beyond measure : in either case they cease to 
 be temptations. 
 
 A. In this, indeed, you have certainly met 
 my difficulty, and I thank you for your sug- 
 gestions. 
 
 B. And now, let me ask, have I removed any 
 of your difficulties, in regarding this world as 
 a state of discipline ? 
 
 A. When I commenced this conversation, I 
 began without much idea of what you meant 
 
LIFE AS A STATE OF MORAL DISCIPLINE. 173 
 
 by moral discipline. You have shown me that 
 this life may be employed for something beyond 
 a mere following of inclination, and that we are 
 able, by habit, to change ourselves to a very 
 great extent from our original condition in 
 childhood. In fact, our condition is such that 
 we have it in our own power, to a very great 
 extent, to make our own character. Nature 
 indicates the way, but does not compel us to 
 follow it. And you have led me to infer that, 
 by a similar education, we are preparing through 
 life for another stage of existence, in which 
 those faculties which we have been educating 
 here may find their proper sphere of exercise. 
 I have, therefore, being gaining new ideas, 
 rather than having previous difficulties dis- 
 pelled. And without committing myself rashly, 
 I will add, that your arguments seem to dispose 
 of some of the difficulties which beset most 
 theories of human life. However, I will not 
 profess myself convinced or converted, until I 
 have well considered the whole matter again. 
 As I am about to be away for some days, I 
 shall hope to visit you in a week, and report to 
 you the result of my reflections. Good-bye. 
 
 B. Till next week then, I wish you " Fare- 
 well:' 
 
174 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE YI. 
 
 ON THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 
 
 B. Good morning, my friend ! As you have 
 deserted me lately, I have taken advantage of 
 the bright weather to call upon you. I began 
 to fear that you were ill. 
 
 A. Oh, no ! I am very well. During the 
 last few days I have been devoting much of 
 my time to my favourite occupations, chemistry 
 and geology. I fancy you do not take much 
 interest in them. 
 
 B. Indeed I do ; though the opportunity of 
 pursuing the study practically has been rarely 
 offered to me. I have lived the greater part 
 of my time in a part of the country where 
 comparatively few interesting phenomena of 
 geology offer themselves, and I have never had 
 the opportunity of using a good laboratory ; so 
 that my acquaintance with these subjects is 
 limited. But I feel the keenest interest in 
 both. Both appear to me to reveal the wisdom 
 and forethought of nature's Author: the one 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 175 
 
 exhibiting the minuteness, tlie other the Yast- 
 ness, of His operations. 
 
 A. But I thought that geology and chemistry 
 were supposed to be the most dangerous oppo- 
 nents of religion ? 
 
 £. Some people, indeed, consider them as 
 such. For my own part, I have always felt that 
 the Book of nature is as much God's work as 
 the Book of Scripture ; and I am not afraid that 
 the two will eventually be found contradicting 
 each other, however much difficulties may be 
 found on the surface. But I fear you are 
 occupied, as I see you have visitors in the 
 house. 
 
 A. I have a friend staying with me, who is 
 giving me the benefit of his researches in 
 science ; and if you will stay with us, I should 
 much like to introduce you. You will find him 
 utterly opposed to you in opinions ; and as I 
 have been speaking to him of our late conver- 
 sations, I should be glad if you would hear 
 what he has to say. 
 
 B. I will willingly stay. The opportunity 
 of conversing with a scientific man is a real 
 treat. I am always struck with their clear 
 systematic modes of thinking and speaking; 
 and I am quite sure no one can hear such men 
 reason without great profit. 
 
176 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. Shall we, then, walk into the library, 
 where my friend is at present ? 
 
 B. By all means. 
 
 A. My dear C, this is the friend of whom I 
 have been speaking to you. Allow me to intro- 
 duce you to one another. 
 
 C. I am happy to make your acquaintance. 
 £. And I am grateful for the chance which 
 
 brought me here to-day. 
 
 A. I have been telling B. that you and he 
 will not agree. 
 
 C. You make us out to be very quarrelsome 
 people, then. I suppose you are tired of the 
 purely peaceful and dispassionate inquiries in 
 which we have been occupied, and want a little 
 excitement for a change ? For my own part I 
 prefer to be regarded as a rational animal, and 
 not to be viewed in the light of a gladiator or 
 a bull-dog. 
 
 A. It is all very well for you to assume this 
 pacific deportment ; but I am not going to let 
 you off for saying that our friend here has 
 been the means of spoiling me as a student of 
 science. 
 
 C. I did not say quite that. I only said, that 
 since you have devoted yourself to talking with 
 this gentleman, you have lost something of 
 your practical turn of mind. You are con- 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 177 
 
 stantly starting off from scientific conclusions, 
 because you are afraid of their tendency ; that 
 is, you reject or refuse to see facts, because you 
 are perplexed with words. 
 
 A. I cannot allow that the facts of our mental 
 constitution are mere words. I cannot, indeed, 
 put them into a crucible and melt them down. 
 But they are realities to me ; and if I find the 
 conclusions of science and the facts of the mental 
 constitution at variance, I still assert that we 
 have no right to let the palpable override the 
 ideal, simply because I can handle the elements 
 of the one and not of the other. 
 
 B. May I ask what is the question in dis- 
 pute ? At present, I confess that I have no 
 ideas on the subject of your discussion. 
 
 C. Well, sir, our friend told me that you had 
 been proving to him that we are in a state of 
 moral discipline in this life, and that our con- 
 duct here deserves and receives reward and 
 blame according to its character. 
 
 B. We have certainly been arguing in that 
 direction. And do you find any objection to 
 such a conclusion ? 
 
 C. Any objection ! Why, the thing is 
 absurd upon the face of it. 
 
 J3. In what way ? 
 
 C. How can a being who is compelled to act 
 
 M 
 
178 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 in a certain way, be a subject of reward or 
 blame ? 
 
 B. Do you think all our actions are com- 
 pulsory ? 
 
 C. TJnquestionably. The whole tenor of 
 scientific discovery is to show that everything 
 is the result of certain antecedent circum- 
 stances. If you put two chemical elements 
 together, and subject them to certain con- 
 ditions, a result necessarily follows. No amount 
 of will on your part can prevent it. 
 
 |g_^jB. But suppose I prevent their coming 
 together ? 
 
 C. You cannot do so ; if they do not come 
 together in one place, they will come together 
 at another. 
 
 B. However, I can prevent them coming 
 together sometimes, and then the result does 
 not follow in those cases. 
 
 C. Possibly ; but that does not do away with 
 the necessity of their nature. 
 
 B. No ; but it shows that my will may modify 
 necessary conditions, and so alter the course of 
 nature. 
 
 C. But your will is the result of antecedent 
 circumstances. It is an effect just as much as 
 everything else is an effect. And thus you 
 only push the difficulty a step farther back. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 179 
 
 B. I understand you to say, that human 
 action is a result of human motives, and that 
 if a motive is presented to the will it must 
 obey it. 
 
 C. That is exactly what I do saj'-, and it at 
 once abolishes all freedom of the will. 
 
 B. "Would it not be more correct to say that 
 it abolishes freedom of action ? 
 
 C. I do not perceive any difference between 
 the two. 
 
 B. There appears to me to be a very material 
 difference. I will allow that if a motive is 
 present, there is an obligation on the will to 
 obey it ; or, if there is a variety of motives, the 
 will is compelled to obey that which preponde- 
 rates. Now, suppose I am about to act in a 
 certain way under the influence of my motives, 
 have I not the power to say, " I will not act in 
 this way"? 
 
 C. Yes ; and in so doing you will be obeying 
 another motive stronger than the others. 
 
 B. But still it is a motive which originates 
 in myself, and which is simply an assertion 
 that I can act in a certain way, if I choose ; 
 and, if I choose, I can refrain from so 
 acting. 
 
 C. Still you are obeying a motive. 
 
 B. Yes; and that motive is essentially an 
 M 2 
 
180 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 assertion of freedom ; it is a declaration that I 
 may choose between my actions. 
 
 C. But such an act of will may be the result 
 of antecedent conditions of which \ you are 
 unaware. 
 
 B. Let it be so. It does not alter the fact, 
 that I know I am free to choose. 
 
 C. And yet if, after all, my choice is the 
 result of antecedent conditions, my conscious- 
 ness of freedom is a mistake. I think that I 
 am free, while I am really constrained in my 
 actions. 
 
 B. I should be ready to admit your argu- 
 ment, if my consciousness of freedom could be 
 imagined to resolve itself into the simple notion 
 that there was nothing to prevent me acting in 
 a particular way ; but it implies much more 
 than this. This consciousness, when anah^zed, 
 is not only that I am free to act in a particular 
 way, but that I can act in a way directly the 
 reverse. If on a journey I came to two paths, 
 and felt that I was free to choose the one but 
 not the other, I should be conscious of a free- 
 dom in one direction, of a constraint in the 
 other. But the two cases are not analogous. 
 When I am under the influence of any motive, 
 I know perfectly well that it is in my power to 
 obey it or not. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 181 
 
 C. But you ignore the very point in dispute : 
 that determination is the result of an additional 
 motive. 
 
 B, But that additional motive is brought 
 into operation, not ah extra, but from within. 
 Even if my actions are the result of antecedent 
 motives, your argument implies that I can 
 originate a fresh motive to counterbalance 
 others ; and such origination on my part is the 
 very essence of the idea of liberty. 
 
 C. Obviously we shall get no farther by 
 reasoning thus. The fact is that you profess 
 to admire physical science, but know nothing 
 whatever of its method. You talk about origi- 
 nation as if it were a simple notion ; whereas 
 science knows nothing of creative acts. 
 
 B. Do you mean that, in your reasonings, you 
 have not discovered any point at which creation 
 or origination begins, or that you have proved 
 that it is impossible ? 
 
 C. It does not greatly matter which way you 
 state the question. That which no experiment 
 can detect may safely be inferred to be non- 
 existent ; and as the tendency of science is to 
 show that in nature there is no gain or loss, 
 simply a commixture of previously-existing 
 elements, or a dissolution of compound bodies 
 into their constituents, we may safely infer that 
 
182 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 as there has been no growth or decay, in any 
 sense, of the increase or decrease of the original 
 elements, so there can be no origination or 
 creation in the usual sense of the words. 
 
 B. Would you object to explain in what 
 manner you will apply this assertion, supposing 
 it substantiated, to the case of free-will? 
 
 C. Why, obviously, if all phenomena are 
 but the consequences of antecedent phenomena, 
 the idea of an independent and self-originating 
 will must be discarded. 
 
 B. You are prepared to carry out this 
 argument ? 
 
 C. Thoroughly in all its details. 
 
 B, You will therefore deny not only a power 
 of origination in our will, but also a Creator of 
 the universe ? 
 
 C. I shall not stick at that, if it is involved 
 in my assertion. You must not think to 
 frighten me by putting awkward cases. 
 
 B. Certainly not ; I am not absurd enough 
 to expect that, if you deny freedom and a God, 
 you will be alarmed at anything so unsub- 
 stantial as a mere opinion. But my difficulty 
 begins where yours ends. You solve every- 
 thing by the denial of a First Cause. I cannot 
 imagine the absence of a First Cause. 
 
 C. What is the use of entertaining so un- 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 183 
 
 scientific an idea as that matter, wMch only- 
 changes its chemical conditions, but never 
 diminishes or increases, should at some time 
 have grown out of nothing ? 
 
 B. But surely the idea of eternally existing 
 matter is quite unscientific ? 
 
 C. Not at all. "When science cannot detect 
 any traces of a beginning, it is quite scientific 
 to assume that there was no beginning. 
 
 B, I thought science assumed nothing. 
 
 C. I will change the word ; it is scientific to 
 infer the eternity of matter. 
 
 B. But I was under the impression that, in 
 order to infer, you must have premisses from 
 which to infer. The induction of eternity 
 from the facts of sense is not possible. Ex- 
 perience has only to do with time, and directly 
 you talk of eternity you have got out of the 
 range of time. And as for a deductive argu- 
 ment for the eternity of matter, you will soon 
 find yourself reasoning in a vicious circle if you 
 attempt it. 
 
 C. Ah ! now you are trying the old absurd 
 dialectics with me. 
 
 B. Well, but wall you give me a specimen 
 of your argument for the eternity of matter ? 
 
 C. Willingly. I will take the instance of a 
 full-grown and highl}"- developed organism. I 
 
184 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 analyze it and trace back its connexion with 
 simpler forms of life ; those simpler forms I 
 trace back to still simpler ones ; till finally I 
 arrive at the earliest condition of life, a simple 
 cell. In all this process I can find no sign 
 of a commencement. It is an infinite retro- 
 gression through countless ages. 
 
 B, So that, to explain the idea of eternity, 
 you introduce the idea of infinity. You must 
 pardon me if I introduce another piece of 
 antiquated dialectics, and say that you are 
 explaining ignotimi j)er ignotius. Infinity is 
 only another name for Eternity. However, 
 you use the words " countless ages," and in so 
 doing you seem to imply that, at some period 
 of the progress, so long ago that you cannot 
 calculate it, the simple cell began to gather to 
 itself the elements of a more complex structure. 
 If so, there was a time when it had not deve- 
 loped ; and then it must have had a beginning. 
 
 C. You misunderstand the line of argument 
 entirely. These simple cells must be conceived 
 of, as existing at some time without a tendency 
 to development ; but they had existed from 
 Eternity before they began to develope. 
 
 B. Let us go back to the time before they 
 began to develope. What atom of proof have 
 you adduced that they never were created ? 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 185 
 
 C. I must answer that question by asking 
 what proof have you that they were created ? 
 
 B. My proof is simply that, having followed 
 the scientific process back to the time at which 
 development commenced, I find myself deserted 
 by science and reduced to pure reason; and 
 that seems to assert that, when the process 
 which is supposed to explain everything had 
 not begun, there must have been an agency at 
 work difierent from that with which science is 
 competent to deal. This much, however, is 
 plain : we have got rid of the idea of an Eternal 
 development, because there is a time when 
 development did not exist. Infinity and 
 Eternity at once disappear in the crucible of 
 scientific thought. 
 
 (7. That is mere assertion. 
 
 B. We are then reduced to a dead lock. You 
 declare that you cannot imagine a beginning ; 
 and I, that I cannot hut imagine it. However, 
 let us look at this from another point of view. 
 Suppose we could observe these germ-cells at 
 the immediate moment, when they commenced 
 to germinate. At one instant there is no 
 movement discernible ; at the next there is. 
 Do you not see that a new factor has been in- 
 troduced — the power of germination ? What is 
 it which causes the activity then commencing ? 
 
186 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 C. The conditions under which they are 
 placed. 
 
 B. So, then, a change of condition has taken 
 place ; and what causes that change ? 
 
 C. An alteration in the state of surrounding 
 matter. 
 
 B. And what is the cause of that alteration ? 
 
 C. I am unable to say. 
 
 A. I must confess, after listening to your 
 argument, that such a change looks very like a 
 creative act. It introduces us to the idea of a 
 power, impressing upon matter a tendency to 
 change. Such an idea is not, perhaps, exactly 
 what we understand by creation. It is also, 
 perhaps, no real proof of a Personal God. 
 Nevertheless, it points to something different 
 from matter acting upon matter. For, com- 
 mencing with the idea of self- development, as 
 a reasonable hypothesis, we are gradually 
 brought back to the time when self-develop- 
 ment began ; and the Power, which gave to 
 matter that capacity for self-development, is 
 inconceivable, except as a distinct existence, 
 external to that on which it operates. 
 
 C, Well, as I see I have no chance of con- 
 vincing you that matter has an inherent power 
 of action, I will leave the subject, only hoping 
 that some day your minds will become a little 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 187 
 
 more scientific. After all, you have wrapped 
 yourselves round with, verbal subtleties, but 
 are not a step nearer to an answer to the first 
 difficulty. You have not made it clear that 
 freedom is possible. 
 
 B, Perhaps not. But we have proved that 
 it is not impossible ; and this is a step. 
 
 C. But I cannot see that you have even 
 proved this. 
 
 B. The idea of necessity is based upon the 
 theory of an infinite chain of cause and effect. 
 Did you not say so ? 
 
 C. I did say something of the kind. 
 
 B. "We have shown the impossibility of 
 demonstrating or even of conceiving such a 
 theory, and as the first axiom has been 
 removed, the subsequent conclusion is de- 
 stroyed. 
 
 C. Stay one moment. Suppose that there 
 was a beginning, it is quite possible that the 
 law impressed upon nature, then, was one of 
 necessity, and not of freedom. 
 
 B. That point we have already disposed of, 
 or rather we have, at your suggestion, passed 
 off from it to this, which we are now quitting, 
 in the hope that we should obtain fresh light 
 from the discussion ; and at the end we are just 
 where we were. We find ourselves able to argue 
 
188 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 to a certain point, and then comes in the 
 difficulty, that the next step involves an act of 
 imagination, which you think that you can 
 perform and I think that I cannot. Can you 
 hit upon no more substantial ground on which 
 to build ? 
 
 C. Not I; I am hopeless of persuading a 
 man weighted with a foregone conclusion. 
 
 B. Then the task must fall to me. But I 
 shall be glad of the aid of your scientific mind 
 to help me in my reflections. I am going to 
 take a very long step downwards from the 
 high metaphysics in which we have been in- 
 volved, and to come to very plain and simple 
 facts. Let us see what would be the practical 
 effect of believing that human beings act under 
 necessity, and not freely. Do you think that 
 society could exist under such conditions ? 
 
 C. Certainly; for we know that there are 
 some people who believe that they are not free 
 agents, and yet society exists. 
 
 B. Yes, but you must remember that, for the 
 most part, these people are unconsciously in- 
 fluenced by the traditions, the practices, and the 
 laws of others, who believe that they are free. 
 And this affects them greatly, though uncon- 
 sciously, and robs their principle of half its 
 power. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 189 
 
 C. In other words, you confess that, in so 
 far as they are influenced by the sentiments 
 of others, they are not free agents ; for if 
 they are tinconscioiisly influenced, they act by 
 necessity. 
 
 B. I will give you the full benefit of your 
 argument. These people are necessarily in- 
 fluenced by those who deny necessity. However, 
 let me proceed. Imagine a society constituted 
 upon the principle that all actions were neces- 
 sary. Could such men have any idea of justice ? 
 
 b. Why not ? 
 
 B. If every motive were of necessity obeyed, 
 it is difficult to see what should cause such an 
 idea to arise, as that certain actions are just 
 and others unjust. 
 
 C. Not at all. Men find by experience that 
 certain actions are advantageous and others 
 disadvantageous. To the former they give the 
 name y^^s^, and the latter they call unjust. 
 
 B. So that mankind attach no idea of blame 
 to the one or praise to the other. 
 
 C. Yes : but they do. 
 
 B. Upon what principle ? 
 
 C. Why, that injury to society merits punish- 
 ment, and benefits deserve reward. 
 
 B. Merits ! deserve ! Why, what language 
 is this ? A necessary action deserving praise or 
 
190 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 blame ! If it were voluntary, you could not use 
 stronger language about it. If there is no 
 freedom, there is no merit or demerit. And 
 equally we must give up any idea of virtue and 
 vice : our actions have no character about them: 
 they are quite indifferent as far as all moral 
 relations go. 
 
 A. I have always felt this difficulty about the 
 doctrine of necessity, that it annihilates morality 
 and condemns the general consent of mankind 
 as utterly fallacious, and their attempts to 
 restrain cruelty, crime, and malice, as wrong. 
 It appears to me that we must give up the idea 
 of keeping order, and consent to utter and com- 
 plete anarchy in society, because we have no 
 right to punish those who disturb the peace, 
 destroy the property, or injure the persons of 
 others. 
 
 B. Set your mind at rest on this point. The 
 same necessity, which compels the robber and 
 the murderer to act as he does, compels the 
 judge to punish him. The whole thing is a 
 matter of necessity, and in no sense a work of 
 choice : at least, such is the conclusion which 
 we are bound to adopt, if this hypothesis be true. 
 
 . However, perhaps our friend here will be able 
 to give some explanation, or suggest something 
 to modify this conclusion. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 191 
 
 C, It appears to me that you assume that, if 
 our actions are the result of necessary agencies, 
 we must all the while be conscious of our obK- 
 gation. But this is incorrect. We may be 
 necessary agents, and yet all the while appear 
 to ourselves to be free. No doubt, if the rest of 
 nature possessed a power of reflection, it would 
 conceive of itself as acting freely, though ob- 
 viously it is perpetually under restraint. Brute 
 animals, possessed of partial reason, are ob- 
 viously necessary agents : generation after 
 generation comes and passes away, and they 
 live in the same way, and perform the same 
 necessary actions; and even masses of men 
 obviously act according to fixed laws, because 
 the law of average is in the main correct, when 
 applied to the actions of large bodies of men. 
 
 B. This is a fresh argument, or rather series 
 of arguments. It is not a simple statement, 
 and requires to be taken to pieces, before we 
 can see its force. However, if I rightly under- 
 stand, you assert that, even if men are neces- 
 sary agents, they will probably believe them- 
 selves to be free. And you adduce as a proof, 
 that if Nature could think, she would believe 
 herself to be a free agent. 
 
 C. That is partly my argument. 
 
 B, "Well, applying your argument of expe- 
 
192 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 diency, it seems plain that Nature does not 
 possess thought, because it has no need to 
 think or choose. If there were any possibility 
 of the course of Nature being changed by her 
 own agency, then, perhaps, thought would be 
 expedient. But it is just because there is no 
 freedom apparent in the action of dead nature, 
 that we find there no traces of consciousness. 
 
 (7. Oh ! this is an argument based upon the 
 idea of design, and I cannot accept it. 
 
 B. Pardon me : it is the very argument of 
 which science makes so much use, that, given 
 the requirement, the means for its fulfilment 
 will be developed. If consciousness had been 
 necessary in nature as a whole, it would have 
 developed in the course of ages. 
 
 C. But you have not met my other instances. 
 The instincts of animals are surely a species of 
 reason ; and yet animals obviously follow them 
 by necessity. 
 
 B. I see you have forgotten part of your 
 instance, which I will supply: "Generation 
 after generation comes and passes awa}^ and 
 they live in the same way, and perform the 
 same necessary actions." This is just the dif- 
 ference between men and animals : in any 
 species of animals you will find comparatively 
 small differences in the power of thought : 
 
THE DOCTRI^^E OF NECESSITY. 193 
 
 their reason is purely mechanical : there is no 
 power of self-development : each one does the 
 same thing in the same way. This looks like 
 acting mider necessity. But with men all this 
 is different : there is a variety of intellects, 
 absolutely incalculable : one man chooses one 
 road, another chooses quite a different one : and 
 though the possession of a common nature, and 
 the fact that all are placed in very similar cir- 
 cumstances, causes a general resemblance of 
 cliaracter, and a considerable similarity in the 
 actions of men, nevertheless, if you look more 
 closely, 3'ou will find that the varieties of 
 character and of action are enormous : whereas 
 in animals of the same species these differences 
 are very slight. But in the actions of men 
 there is nothing which you can compare with 
 the instinct of the beaver, for instance, which 
 must build a dam, and whose whole existence is 
 concentrated upon that work. No man, unless 
 he had a theory to uphold, which requires facts 
 to be adapted to it, would see any resemblance 
 between the instinctive habits of animals and 
 the strange varieties of tastes, occupations, and 
 modes of action of men born under the same roof, 
 and nurtured in almost identical circumstances. 
 You may indeed say that the circumstances, 
 though apparently alike, are really vastly dif- 
 
 N 
 
194 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 ferent, as different as the characters developed. 
 But any theory of necessity is found to be quite 
 insufficient to account for the vast difference 
 existing between the characters of members of 
 the same family. 
 
 C. But will the notion of freedom help us to 
 explain it ? 
 
 B. It helps us at least thus far, that it does 
 not present a difficulty : whereas the doctrine 
 of necessity has to be pressed far into the re- 
 gion of the unseen ; it has to make all manner 
 of assumptions to account for the variety ; and 
 these assumptions cannot be substantiated by 
 any proofs : so that the doctrine of necessity is 
 found ultimately to be no more reducible to 
 the evidence of the senses than the doctrine of 
 freedom. 
 
 However, this is a digression. Let us return 
 to the point of the practical effect of the doc- 
 trine of necessity. Suppose a child to be edu- 
 cated by a necessarian in his principles. He is 
 taught that for none of his actions is he account- 
 able. The consequence is, that when he goes 
 into the w^orld he believes that every course of 
 action which he pursues, of whatever character, 
 is right, or rather, since that word implies 
 responsibility, we will say that he feels himself 
 compelled to follow the present motive. Would 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 195 
 
 such a creature be tolerable in society, seeking 
 his own pleasure, regardless of the convenience 
 and the welfare of others ? Would he not soon 
 either annihilate society, or fall a yictim to its 
 just displeasure ? 
 
 C. Yes : it is all very well to state it so ; but 
 he soon finds that he is compelled to yield to 
 the convenience of others, and so adapts him- 
 self to the necessity of his situation. 
 
 B. Do all men so act ? 
 
 C. No : they do not. 
 
 B. Then there is no necessity in the case. 
 If they may or may not follow their inclina- 
 tions, then your doctrine of necessity is scat- 
 tered to the winds. If they may choose they 
 are free to choose, and this is the point at issue. 
 
 C. But I speak of a moral necessity. 
 
 B, A moral necessity implies that it is not 
 absolute, but dependent on a moral character ; 
 and a moral character implies a fitness in 
 actions; and a fitness in actions implies a 
 regulating principle within; and that regu- 
 lating principle, argue it as you will, at length 
 leads you back to a moral Governor of the 
 universe. 
 
 C. I cannot permit you to assume so much. 
 B. Well, you must at least permit me to 
 
 assume this, that the doctrine of necessity 
 
 X 2 
 
196 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 applied to practice, invariably leads to an 
 absurdity. 
 C. How so ? 
 
 B. Let us take an instance. Let a man sup- 
 pose that he is fated to live a certain time, and 
 that no effort on his own part will enable him to 
 escape his fate, no rashness will precipitate it : 
 is such an opinion practically reasonable ? 
 
 C. I should think any man a madman who 
 acted upon it. 
 
 B. Yet it is strictly in accord with the prin- 
 ciple of necessity. But if the man who so acts 
 is justly accounted mad, he who acts on the 
 opposite principle is a reasonable man. The 
 result is, that, whether the principle of necessity 
 or of freedom be speculativel}^ true, the former is 
 practically false. Hence, if we apply the same 
 principle to religion, and imagine that, act how 
 we will, we shall not suffer for it, it is only in ac- 
 cordance with experience to suppose that we may 
 find ourseh'Cs grievously mistaken. If, there- 
 fore, the doctrine of necessity is true, we must 
 not conclude that it relieves us from the obliga- 
 tion of obe3"ing the law impressed upon nature 
 by its Author. 
 
 C. Now you are assuming that there is a 
 God, and tlie doctrine of necessity destroys 
 your proof. 
 
THE DOCTHIXE OF NECESSITY. 197 
 
 B. Pardon me : it no more destroys the 
 proof than it destroys the proof that our hap- 
 piness and misery here are dependent upon our 
 mode of action. Necessity, if true, is consistent 
 with things to which it appears opposed, as we 
 have shown. Hence it is no sign that there 
 is no Author of nature, because the idea of 
 absolute necessity appears opposed to the idea 
 of a moral Governor. Here, then, we have a 
 point to begin upon. Whether necessity be a 
 true or false notion, it does not destroy the 
 fact that we are possessed of a moral con- 
 sciousness. This needs not to be reasoned out. 
 AYe have this consciovisness, as a fact. From 
 it we judge some actions to be right and others 
 to be wrong. Experience further shows that 
 certain actions are rewarded in this life, others 
 punished. Experience of this kind forces it- 
 self upon us ; and, unless we have a theory to 
 uphold, compels us to believe that there is a 
 purpose in this regularity. However, leaving 
 that point, it is quite plain that, somehow or 
 other, we have a sense of right and wrong 
 implanted in us, and equally plain that our 
 behaviour influences our condition in this life. 
 If there be a God Who governs the universe, 
 and has impressed upon our minds certain 
 ineradicable ideas of justice and benevolence, 
 
198 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 in accordance with His own nature, tlien the 
 existence of a sense of moral responsibility 
 becomes intelligible. If there be no God, 
 then why goodness, benevolence, and justice 
 should be so generally respected, and vice, 
 cruelty, and injustice abhorred, and not the 
 reverse, is a thing utterly unintelligible. And 
 that there is a preponderance of opinion on the 
 side of goodness, however little that opinion 
 may be carried out into practice, is too plain 
 to need proof. 
 
 C. Well, but you are all this while assuming 
 that there is a God, and that He is a Being 
 with a particular character. What if I say 
 that you are simply personifying your own 
 ideas of what is perfect ? 
 
 B. You are at liberty, of course, to assert 
 this. Only, if you do, 3'Ou will be at a loss to 
 give any explanation how those ideas came 
 into our minds. 
 
 C I should say that the ideas of morality 
 were the offspring of enlightened self-interest. 
 
 B. Be it so. And how will you explain the 
 reverence felt for self-denial among a large 
 portion of mankind ? 
 
 C Easily enough. Men natural^ respect 
 that which does them good, and when men are 
 self-denying, others profit b}^ it. 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 199 
 
 B. I congratulate you on your explanation 
 of the way in wliicli self-denial arises, and am 
 so satisfied with your manner of proof, viz., 
 that men admire self-denial because they may 
 possibly profit by it, that I shall not pursue 
 this part of our subject any farther. 
 
 A. I am quite sure that C. does not really 
 mean that this is the sole explanation either of 
 this virtue itself, or of the respect felt for it by 
 mankind. But can you not bring for religion 
 arguments more cogent and which are inde- 
 pendent of the doctrine of necessity ? 
 
 B. Undoubtedly there are many ; but if 
 you deal with them as this last has been dealt 
 with, it is superfluous to mention them. First, 
 it is assumed that there is no God ; thence it 
 follows that, however natural any explanation 
 of facts may be on the assumption that there is 
 a God, it must be false, because there is no God. 
 Then we are led on to accept any explanation 
 as more correct than that which appears natural. 
 And so you end by proving that there is no 
 God, by assuming that there is none ; and you 
 explain instances of complete unselfishness, by 
 sajdng that they must be selfish, only you can- 
 not see the selfishness : a mode of argument 
 which may be scientific, if only we could see 
 the cogency. 
 
200 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 C. I think YOU are rather hard upon me. 
 I only suggested that, as the arguments which 
 prove the existence of a God can be met by 
 counter- arguments which point the other way, 
 such an explanation as this which offends you 
 might be the right one, as it implies no as- 
 sumptions, except the very obvious one that 
 self-interest is the strongest passion in man. 
 However, I will patiently hear what you have 
 to say, always premising that you must not 
 take silence for consent. 
 
 B. I think the fairest way to attempt to deal 
 with the additional arguments, which are inde- 
 pendent of the doctrine of necessity, is to con- 
 sider what influence they would have upon a 
 man who had reasoned himself fairly into the 
 belief that there is a God, without any know- 
 ledge of the historic facts connected with that 
 belief. There are such cases, and so it is not 
 an unfair mode of arguing. Suppose such a 
 man came to view the historic side of this 
 question, how would it present itself to him ? 
 
 C. Nay, I am a listener. You must not 
 appeal to me. 
 
 A. To me, then, falls the duty of answering 
 this question. Well, I suppose he would ask him- 
 self the question, '' Does the opinion that there 
 is a God show traces of being reasoned out at any 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 201 
 
 particular period in the world's history ? '' And 
 he would find that it is as old as history. The 
 earliest records which we possess bear testi- 
 mony to this belief, and their testimony goes 
 to show that the belief in one God was purer 
 and less alloyed with superstitious practices in 
 the earliest times than in subsequent ages. 
 B. And what would you infer from that ? 
 
 A. Apparently we must infer, that the belief 
 in a God is a primary instinct of mankind. 
 It is not a late development of reason, because 
 subsequent systems have ended rather to 
 obscure it than to make it plain. Hence in 
 religion, we speak rather of revival than of 
 development. 
 
 B, Is there nothing further that would strike 
 the mind of the inquirer ? 
 
 A. Certainly. He would observe that the 
 testimony of the earliest records declares that 
 this belief was the result of an original reve- 
 lation. 
 
 B. And how would such an announcement 
 affect him ? 
 
 A. Probably he would see whether any other 
 explanation would serve. 
 
 B. And what would be the result ? 
 
 A. In the presence of C, I am apprehensive 
 of exciting laughter by my reply. Still it 
 
202 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 seems to me that, as history does not point out 
 any traces of the origination of this doctrine, 
 but rather the reverse, and as the minds of 
 rude and uncultivated men are by no means 
 qualified to evolve elaborate or abstract ideas, 
 but are rather engaged with what is visible, the 
 notion of such a doctrine being revealed is not 
 utterly incredible. All this, I allow, is not 
 demonstration, but it is at least as probable 
 as any other explanation which science gives. 
 
 B. I think so too, but our friend here does 
 not agree. 
 
 C. I tell you I am a listener. You two 
 flatter one another by making concessions, and 
 talking about reason and demonstration, while 
 all the while you are dreaming. You do not 
 seem to see, that all this fine reasoning is null 
 and void in the face of the fact that all things 
 are by necessity. It is preposterous to talk of 
 the moral government of God by rewards and 
 punishments, and to describe actions as virtuous 
 and vicious, when all the while they can be 
 possessed of no such quality. 
 
 B. Here, then, is the point. You say that 
 it is absurd to believe in future rewards and 
 punishments, because no man can be respon- 
 sible. Apply the same to the present life, and 
 no man can be punished or rewarded for any- 
 
THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 203 
 
 thing that he does. Still, if you act in a certain 
 way, you suffer ; if in another way, you are a 
 gainer. You refuse to call them rewards or 
 punishments, and the majority of mankind 
 disagree with you. If they are actually retri- 
 butions, designed by the Author of nature, 
 they would not be altered in character. In 
 spite of necessity, men ^ciU feel the sentiments 
 of gratitude for kindnesses, of resentment for 
 injuries. The whole world conspires together 
 to be unreasonable, according to your theory ; 
 and your theory, in the world's estimation, 
 leads to all kind of practical absurdities. Right 
 or wrong, the doctrine of necessity would throw 
 all nature out of gear, and bring human affairs 
 to a stand- still. And the whole matter resolves 
 into this :— If the doctrine of freedom is true, 
 then the appearance of design and of moraj 
 government, the ideas of right and wrong, and 
 the whole constitution of human society are 
 reasonable : if necessity governs all things, 
 then the whole of the facts, upon which human 
 society is based, at once fall to the ground. 
 And, moreover, as this doctrine, practically 
 applied, would end in the probable destruction of 
 the person acting upon it, so it is possible that 
 it may end in the total ruin of his nature, the 
 annihilation of his capacities for happiness, and 
 
204 ON THE DOCTRINE OF NECESSITY. 
 
 all the possible results to wliicli natural analogy 
 points. In short, it is the part of a prudent 
 man not to lean upon such a broken reed, but 
 to allow the experience of his life to weigh 
 down the inferences which he has drawn from 
 a one-sided and incomplete view of the course 
 of nature. 
 
 A. Such a conclusion has long appeared 
 inevitable to me ; and I confess that it seems 
 less unreasonable to act upon that which leads 
 into no absurdities, however speculatively im- 
 probable, than, by following out my reasonings 
 to their extreme limit, to land myself in a 
 position which experience tells me is utterly 
 untenable. 
 
ON THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 205 
 
 DIALOGUE YII. 
 
 THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD : A SCHEME BEYOND 
 OUR COMPREHENSION. 
 
 A. Greatly as I was interested in your dis- 
 cussion of j^esterday, I must be permitted to 
 observe that it was, on the whole, unsatisfactorj^ 
 Hitherto our inquiries have been conducted on 
 the understanding that we are both of us in 
 search for one and the same truth, and desirous 
 of discovering it in the scheme of religion, if 
 that scheme is not contradictory to reason. 
 But the discussion of yesterday resembled a 
 tournament with sharp spears. There was an 
 animus in the argument, which could not be 
 concealed. And, after all, the aspect in which 
 the entire discussion presented itself to me, was 
 that the two principal disputants were simply 
 seeking to rebut one another's arguments. 
 
 B. I am quite aware that it was so. But I 
 do not see how it could be otherwise. Your 
 friend C. took up a ground which is simply 
 destructive of the possibility of religion. His 
 
206 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 argument, as lie confessed, fairly pressed home, 
 leads to the negation of God and of all moral 
 action ; and the only way to meet him was to 
 refute his premisses by showing that they led to 
 absurdities, and contradicted the results of con- 
 sciousness as well as of experience. Such a 
 discussion is essentially unsatisfactory. If you 
 appeal to universal experience, it may be 
 answered that your experience contradicts that 
 of the person with whom you argue ; and the 
 same reply may be made to the argument from 
 consciousness. Of what avail is it to say " I 
 know that my will is free, because I feel it to 
 be so," when the upholder of the opinion of 
 necessity can reply, "I know the reverse"? 
 And if you add, that " All men feel that they 
 are free " ; he may reply, *' I am a man, and 
 feel that I am not free." In such a case, no 
 satisfactory result can, by any possibility, be 
 attained. 
 
 A. Notwithstanding, I think we ought to 
 allow the opinion of the vast majority to out- 
 weigh the opinion of the few. I wonder you 
 did not press this argument more. 
 
 JB. Of what avail would it have been ? He 
 would have replied that this was a matter of 
 reasoning, and that the reasoning of the majority 
 of men is utterly valueless : it is the few, whose 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 207 
 
 opinions upon refined and abstruse questions are 
 alone of value. 
 
 A. Perhaps you acted wisely in leaving the 
 question as you did. For my own part, I think 
 that the instincts or natural opinions of men 
 are of value ; and I should consider it very 
 unfair not to allow weight to them, both 
 in the matter of free will and of religion in 
 general. 
 
 J5. Do you mean that if you found a large 
 portion, say the majority, of mankind agreed 
 upon a certain religion, you would confess that 
 that must have come from God ? 
 
 A. lio, no ; I should only allow that that form 
 of religion had, cl priori, a first claim to our con- 
 sideration. Religion must be tested by moral 
 ideas ; it must show indications of containing 
 in it the essentials of the idea of the Deity : 
 justice, judgment, and truth. What I in- 
 tended to convey was, that if all men, in all 
 ages, however much disagreeing in details, 
 coincided in paying reverence to the Unseen, 
 this must be taken as a presumption in favour 
 of the real existence of an unseen world. But 
 this, I think, has been implied, if not expressed 
 in all our inquiries. 
 
 B. Certainly : I think it has. 
 
 A. But I arn come here to-day with a new 
 
208 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 thouglit in my mind. Hitherto all your argu- 
 ments have been about facts. You have said 
 in effect, *' There are two worlds standing side 
 by side : the material universe, and the moral 
 universe. Eeligion asserts certain facts about 
 the latter. In order to judge whether these 
 assertions are correct, let us look to the material 
 universe. In it I find such and such things, 
 corresponding to what religion asserts about 
 the moral world. Therefore religion speaks 
 truly." Is not this a fair representation of 
 the argument ? 
 B. Certainly. 
 
 A. But now comes the moral consideration. 
 Granting the force of the argument in establish- 
 ing ihQfact, it proves nothing whatever as to the 
 justice or injustice, the right or wrong, in short, 
 the morality or immorality of the matters in 
 question. Analogy is useless there ; and this, 
 after all, is the great point at issue. 
 
 B. You are quite right. Directly, analogy 
 gives us no help here; it can only certify 
 to matters of fact. But indirectly it can help 
 us very much. 
 
 A. How so ? How can yoa argue from the 
 material universe to the justice of the moral 
 government of the world ? 
 
 B. Observe now what is the objection to 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 209 
 
 whicli you refer. You suppose a man to find 
 fault with the moral of government of tlie 
 universe, on the ground that he cannot see the 
 justice of it. How far do you suppose this 
 objection will be carried by a fair mind ? 
 
 ^. I do not understand what you mean. 
 
 B. Will it be said that there are no signs 
 whatever of distributive justice in the govern- 
 ment of the world, or will the objection only 
 extend so far as this : that there are great in- 
 equalities in the moral government of the 
 universe, which cannot easily be reconciled with 
 ideas of infinite goodness ? 
 
 A. Oh, I should say that a fair mind would 
 not go farther than the latter objection ; but 
 surely that is enough. 
 
 B. Perhaps so. But as you concede this, 
 which I confess I cannot imagine you refusing 
 to concede, you will find analogy will aid you 
 considerably. 
 
 A. How? 
 
 B. No man can look upon the material 
 universe with a thoughtful eye, without being 
 conscious how vast and inexhaustible a field of 
 contemplation it presents. He cannot ponder 
 upon the wonderful works in the fair world, 
 without acknowledging that there is truth in 
 the idea of Socrates, that man's highest know- 
 
 o 
 
210 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 ledge is the knowledge of Ms ignorance. He 
 will call to mind that the greatest thinkers 
 have confessed, that all their investigations 
 have but sufficed to show them how utterly 
 insignificant all their eflforts are to grapple with 
 the infinite extent of the universe. At most 
 they have learned to regard the material world 
 as a grand organic whole, subject to laws and 
 influences, of which the life of man, however 
 laboriously directed to the research, suffices 
 only to disclose a minute portion. They have 
 learned, however, to regard the universe as an 
 organized whole ; but how the various forces 
 to which it is subject mutually afiect each 
 other, what are the various relations and inter- 
 dependence of one upon the other, what would 
 be the effect of a cessation of any special force; 
 whether it is possible for any one single minute 
 agency to change without affecting the whole 
 to an indefinite extent — these are questions 
 upon which the most scientific minds are the 
 least ready to express an opinion. That man 
 may fairly be said to know nothing of the 
 universe, who is not aware how every investi- 
 gation serves to disclose fresh correlations 
 between the forces of the universe, and to open 
 up fresh channels of inquiry, which it ia im- 
 possible even in imagination to exhaust. The 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 211 
 
 more a man inquires, the wider is the range of 
 subjects upon which he discovers his own igno- 
 rance. Without entering into the discussion of 
 any scientific questions, we may fairly assume 
 that the material universe presents itself to the 
 investigator as a system, of which he has but a 
 crude and imperfect knowledge ; a system, the 
 details of which are inexhaustible. In such a 
 case, it is quite possible that every individual 
 circumstance may have a relation to the whole, 
 which the keenest eye cannot detect. Do you 
 not agree with this ? 
 
 A. Most assuredly. It is an ascertained 
 fact that the material world bears every trace 
 of being a system, of which the parts are con- 
 nected in their operations, by links of various 
 degrees of strength : some obvious to the senses ; 
 some requiring deep research and reflection 
 to trace them ; some so obscure that we have 
 merely a glimpse of their existence, and infer 
 it from our knowledge in cases more clear to 
 the mental vision. But what has this to do 
 with the point in question ? 
 
 B. Let us first summarily state the conclu- 
 sion at which we have arrived. It is very 
 useful to have our premisses succinctly stated. 
 
 A. Assuredly ; and our present conclusions 
 amount to this, that the material universe is a 
 o 2 
 
212 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 system or aggregate of connected parts ; and 
 that this connexion is clear in some cases, 
 obscure in others. 
 
 B. In other words, we have an imperfect 
 knowledge of the universe ; but we see enough 
 to infer that it is not a mere casual aororreo^ation 
 of disconnected forces and activities, ^ow, are 
 there any difficulties connected with the problem 
 of the material universe with regard, for in- 
 stance, to the law of gravitation, or the action 
 of electricity ? 
 
 A. Certainly ; there are at present very great 
 difficulties. 
 
 B. And do these difficulties arise from the 
 nature of the things, or from our ignorance in 
 these matters ? 
 
 A. From our ignorance, I should say. 
 
 B. Now, then, let us apply analogy, and see 
 what is the result. The moral facts of the world 
 are regarded as a system of which we have a par- 
 tial, and only a partial, knowledge. They present 
 certain indications of the operation of rightcoiis- 
 nesSy lovCy and justice in the administration of 
 rewards and punishments ; but they have also 
 their difficulties. Instances occur wherein we 
 fail to perceive the operation of those forces, 
 which, from our own observation, the general 
 tradition of mankind, or from their natural in- 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 213 
 
 stincts, ^Ye assign to the Creator as His attri- 
 butes. 
 
 A. But am I not to say, if a thing appears 
 to be unjust, and I can conceive no way in 
 which it can be just, that it is unjust ? 
 
 B. You are stating the matter very strongly. 
 When you say that you can conceive no way in 
 which a certain course of action can be just, 
 you mean, I presume, that, so far as your oppor- 
 tunities of judfjing extend, you cannot see how 
 the ends of justice will be furthered. But sup- 
 pose you have only a partial, a very partial, 
 knowledge of the action, and are entirely 
 unacquainted with other important circum- 
 stances bearing upon it, would you feel justified 
 in pronouncing a verdict of injustice ? 
 
 A, Will you make your meaning a little 
 clearer ? 
 
 B. Let us take an instance. Are there not 
 many cases in which, on the first view of a 
 course of action, you would unhesitatingly 
 pronounce it unjust; whereas, when you are 
 more fully acquainted with the circumstances, 
 you are constrained to modify your opinion, if 
 not to alter your verdict entirely ? 
 
 A. Assuredly that is the case every day. 
 
 B. Now consider if the same line of argu- 
 ment may not fairly be applied to difficulties in 
 
214 DiALOGrE ON 
 
 religion ? Is it not obvious that, in the vast 
 scheme of an Infinite mind, it is impossible for 
 any human being to understand the relations 
 of any single act, except in the most imperfect 
 manner ? May not the apparent inequalities 
 in the Divine government be such only in 
 appearance ? May they not be in reality, when 
 viewed in their completeness, supreme acts of 
 justice and righteousness ? 
 
 A. They may certainly be so ; but it is poor 
 comfort to a struggling soul, tossed between 
 good and evil, to be told that vice may be 
 virtue, only in a different guise. And it seems 
 a strange mode on the part of a good Grod, of 
 impressing lessons of virtue on His creatures, to 
 assure them that after all wickedness may be 
 goodness, if only we could see it from the right 
 point of view. 
 
 JB. Stay ; that is a misrepresentation of what 
 I said. No argument which we have ever 
 employed will bear that construction. 
 
 A. Why, have you not said that the in- 
 equalities in the government of the aniiverse may 
 possibly be resolved into acts of pure justice ? 
 
 JB. Yes, I have ; and I maintain it. But I 
 have never said that there can be any con- 
 fusion between vice and virtue. 
 
 A, What then is your argument ? 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 215 
 
 B. Simply this : there are general indications 
 of the government of the universe on principles 
 of virtue and goodness. From this, in accord- 
 ance with reason, we might be led to infer that 
 it was the intention of the Creator, that virtue 
 should be the law of His creatures. To this it 
 is replied that there are many instances, which 
 appear to conflict with the proofs of this ; 
 instances of goodness being trampled upon and 
 despised ; instances of vice being successful, 
 and gaining advantages for its followers. Now 
 the argument from analogy assists us in this 
 way. The physical universe is regulated by 
 general laws, to which there are apparent excep- 
 tions. These exceptions in many cases resolve 
 themselves into instances of the laws, or, per- 
 haps more correctly, are the result of a com- 
 bined action of various laws. Would you say 
 that the laws have been altered ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. 
 
 B. And yet your judgment as to the conse- 
 quences of the laws has been modified. What 
 has produced this change ? 
 
 A. Additional knowledge on my part. 
 
 B. Yery true. Now turn to the moral 
 world. Certain inequalities present themselves. 
 Are they necessarily instances of injustice on 
 the part of the Creator ? 
 
216 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. They appear so. 
 
 B. May not additional knowledge show you 
 reasons and purposes, to whicli these inequalities 
 serve ? And if so, might you not have reason 
 to change your opinion about them ? 
 
 A. But is not that what I have just said? 
 Your argument would confound all principles 
 of virtue and justice, and abolish moral judg- 
 ment altogether. 
 
 B. Pray consider this. Here is a man in a 
 bad state of health, gradually settling down 
 into a confirmed valetudinarian. A fever seizes 
 him ; all the unhealthy humours in his body 
 are concentrated to feed the fever ; but he re- 
 covers from it, and is once more restored to 
 health. Such cases occur, do they not ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedlj^ 
 
 B. Is it therefore certain that fever is better 
 than health ? 
 
 A. It is certain that it is not. 
 
 B. And yet the man may be said to have 
 recovered health by means of his fever ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly. 
 
 B. Here then is a case, in the physical world, 
 of an unmixed evil resulting in good. 
 
 A. But physical and moral evil are such 
 very different things. "Whoever heard of vice 
 improving a man ? 
 
 B. Well, I have heard of a man, who had 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 217 
 
 gone through a course of vice, becoming peni- 
 tent and avoiding sin the more earnestly for 
 his former experience. Remember, however, 
 that this forms no reason for excusing men for 
 vicious courses. You would not recommend a 
 man in weak health to put himself in the way 
 of infection, although there are instances in 
 which a fever or other sickness has proved 
 beneficial. All that we have to show is that 
 apparent evils may be, when viewed in relation 
 to all their effects, the means of good. 
 
 A. How then can we make any distinction 
 between vice and virtue ? 
 
 B. Surely there can be no difficulty, any 
 more than there is in distinguishing between 
 sickness and health. Vice still remains vice, 
 and is essentially evil, although by the direct- 
 ing hand of God, it may become the instrument 
 of good. As it affects the nature of the man 
 who is subject to it, it is always an awful soul- 
 destroying disease. 
 
 A. Why, then, does the Creator permit it 
 to exist ? 
 
 B. Kow 3^ou are approaching the question 
 from a different side. What if I reply that I 
 cannot tell ? 
 
 A. Then I should say we may as well cease 
 talking on the subject. 
 
 B. I doubt if you fullv understand the force 
 
218 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 of my reply. If the universe is a system, of 
 vvHch this earth and all that happens upon it 
 is but a fragment, may I not fairly argue that, 
 assuming the existence of an Infinite Creator, 
 we must look for difficulties which no powers of 
 ours can thoroughly unravel ; and that, if there 
 is a general indication of wisdom and goodness 
 in the moral government of the world, we ought 
 to infer that, if we understood the whole, we 
 should find it in accordance with that which 
 we do comprehend ? Do you agree with this ? 
 
 A. It looks like fair reasoning, but the con- 
 clusion is somehow repugnant to my mind. 
 Why should not the Creator, for instance, have 
 so arranged the world that evil should not 
 exist, or should be corrected immediately upon 
 its appearance ? 
 
 JB. That I think we can partially answer. 
 In the first place the world is governed by 
 general laws ; and if they are to remain 
 general, perpetual interpositions are not to be 
 expected. 
 
 ^. I do not like the reason, and I think it 
 leads to some uncomfortable inferences. Give 
 me another. 
 
 B. Perpetual interpositions would produce 
 bad effects, 
 
 A. How? 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 219 
 
 B. They would encourage idleness and neg- 
 ligence ; for if every evil act could be imme- 
 diately remedied, wlio would be at tbe pains to 
 guard against it ? 
 
 A. That is indeed a reason of value. 
 
 B. Then, consider, morality would not exist. 
 
 A. What do you mean ? 
 
 B. Human morality consists in the voluntary 
 regulation of the passions and affections in 
 accordance with a certain fixed law. That law 
 is determined, partially at least, by reflecting 
 upon the tendency of actions. Now if actions 
 never produce any consequences ; if the evil is 
 at once, and without any agency of our own, 
 corrected, every inducement to self-restraint, 
 and to all that constitutes our idea of virtue, is 
 removed. In a very short time human beings 
 would cease to be moral or accountable agents. 
 What the result of this upon the universe would 
 be, it is impossible to tell. It is very obvious, 
 however, that all which ennobles and elevates 
 man would soon cease to exist. 
 
 A. In this, again, you seem to argue with 
 reason. 
 
 B. Then, again, recurring to our ignorance ; 
 might not the result of such interpositions have 
 further effects far beyond our knowledge, and 
 entirely subvert the whole course of nature. 
 
220 3)IAL0GUE ON 
 
 In short, we see tliat some evils would certainly 
 arise from constant Divine interpositions. For 
 aught we know, the remedy which we so readih^ 
 propose, might produce evils tenfold greater 
 than those which the}^ are expected to redress. 
 
 A. You have now been arguing, that in those 
 things which appear to us to contradict Divine 
 goodness, our ignorance is a sufficient reason 
 for assuming that they may be found eventually 
 to be instances of it. What will you say if I 
 reverse the process, and say, that perhaps our 
 ignorance blinds iis to the eventual results of 
 what appears to be good ? I merely put it by 
 way of argument. Wh}^ may we not infer 
 that what appears to be good ma}-, in truth, 
 appear to be so only in consequence of our 
 ignorance ? 
 
 B. The answer is not difficult to discover. 
 We have no reason whatever to infer that evil 
 and vice are the moral law of the universe. 
 We have many reasons for supposing they are 
 not. There is reason, therefore, for assuming 
 that virtue may be the law under which man 
 has been created. Ar":uments from our ic^no- 
 ranee of the eventual tendencies of things do 
 in no way invalidate this positive proof. On 
 the other hand, there is no positive proof that 
 vice can be the law of the universe. Our 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 221 
 
 ignorance is not, and ought not to be, adduced 
 as an objection to what we may infer from 
 analogy or from other sources. But if diffi- 
 culties are started in opposition to these infer- 
 ences, then our ignorance of the ultimate 
 tendencies and relations of things is a fair 
 reply to such objections. Do I make this 
 clear ? 
 
 A. I fear not. 
 
 B. Let us take an instance. From our obser- 
 vations of a certain man's actions, we form a 
 judgment of his character ; we gain impressions 
 as to the general course of action which he will 
 pursue. In certain cases we do not perceive 
 his drift ; but from what we know, we are 
 justified in assuming that he will be true to 
 his character. From our knowledge, we are 
 justified in supposing that he will remain what 
 we have reason to suppose him to be, even in 
 cases where we do not see his drift. But we 
 have no right to assume that, as soon as his 
 motives pass beyond our comprehension, he will 
 change his character. 
 
 A. That is true. 
 
 B. In the same way, our ignorance may be 
 adduced as a reply to objections against God's 
 goodness, because we have at least some reason 
 to believe in His goodness ; but it ought not to 
 
222 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 be brouglit to disprove His goodness, because 
 what we know does not lead us to regard Him 
 as evil ? 
 
 A. I understand. 
 
 JB. Then once more. The moral sentiments 
 of mankind on the whole condemn cruelty, 
 injustice, selfishness, and vice. Experience 
 shews that on the whole these conditions of 
 mind do not conduce to happiness. Religion 
 asserts that they are hateful to God, and will 
 be punisbed. Is it reasonable to say, " I really 
 do not know whether they will or not, and 
 therefore I shall pay no heed to what religion 
 says about them, but, in virtue of my ignorance, 
 intend to run counter to the moral judgments 
 of humanity." Is this reasonable ? 
 
 A. It appears not. 
 
 B. This, then, is a practical reply to argu- 
 ments against religion, drawn from our igno- 
 rance. And once more. Though we are 
 said to be arguing from human ignorance, we 
 are not arguing simply from it, but from 
 something which analogy suggests from the 
 consideration of it. We have seen that, in the 
 physical universe, we often argue wrongly in 
 consequence of incomjMe knowledge ; and 
 now we say that in the moral universe, if we 
 arrive at results inconsistent with the Divine 
 
THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 223 
 
 goodness, to wliicli positive arguments point, 
 we have a riglit to assume, that a clearer and 
 wider knowledge would lead us to conclusions 
 in accordance with those which analogy has 
 presented concerning the wisdom, justice, and 
 goodness of God. 
 
 A. In this, again, I feel constrained to 
 concur. 
 
 B. And now let us sum up the results of our 
 conversations. We have shown, first, that all 
 arguments on moral and religious questions are 
 based upon probable arguments.' We have 
 seen that there is a probabilit}^ that we our- 
 selves do not cease to exist when our bodies 
 return to dust ; then, that the present life is a 
 condition in which some actions are rewarded 
 and others punished; from which we infer that 
 what religion states about a future condition of 
 rewards and punishments is not unreasonable. 
 After this, we found reason to hold that those 
 punishments and rewards were apportioned 
 according to a moral law ; we saw that this life 
 was well adapted to be, and was actually, a con- 
 dition of moral discipline, as preparing the soul 
 for a higher state of existence. All these things 
 we found to be reasonable, on the supposition 
 that human action was free and not constrained 
 by necessity ; and we saw that the doctrine of 
 
224 DIALOGUE ON THE GOVERNMENT OF GOD. 
 
 necessity was involved in insuperable diffi- 
 culties. Finally, we have proved that any 
 objections which might arise in the course of 
 our reasonings, received an answer from the 
 incompleteness of our knowledge ; and that 
 this ignorance cannot fairly be applied to in- 
 validate any of the proofs of religion, although 
 it is an answer to objections to those proofs. 
 And thus we are fairly in a condition to 
 deal with the important questions which now 
 arise with reference to the doctrines of revealed 
 religion. 
 
^ait M. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 A. Ix our last couversation, you concluded 
 by saying, that we might fairly approach the 
 subject of revealed religion. Discussions on 
 that subject will consist, if I mistake not, very 
 much in an examination of testimon}^ We 
 shall have, I suppose, to inquire whether wit- 
 nesses, who ground their claims to our belief 
 on miracles, are to receive any attention at all ; 
 whether any explanation can be given to 
 account for their belief, or professed belief, 
 and there will, doubtless, be other questions 
 springing out of these. But before we commit 
 ourselves to such inquiries, let me ask you 
 whether you consider such an inquiry of 
 importance ? 
 
 JB. Assuredly I do, of vital importance. It 
 cannot but be so, if there be any truth in 
 Christianity at all ; and if there be not, it is 
 
 p 
 
226 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 equally important tliat mankind should no 
 longer commit themselves to what is false. 
 If I did not hioiv that you were serious, I 
 should imagine that your question was a rather 
 unaccountable jest. 
 
 A. Well, I am not in jest. But still as I 
 have heard this point seriously mooted, I 
 should like to know your answer to it. The 
 fact is that, personally, I feel that we ought to 
 trace out, as far as possible, what explanation 
 can be given of that transcendent fact in 
 history, the growth of Christianity. The 
 ordinary explanation of the school of Gibbon 
 and Hume, that the credulity of the people 
 and the rapacity of the priests together gave 
 birth to it, seems insufficient to account for the 
 origin of such a power as Christianity, whether 
 its influence has been good or bad. And there 
 seems to be something too tangible, definite, 
 and real, in the supposed facts upon which 
 Christianity is based, to be accovmted for in 
 the ofi'-hand way, which men usually adopt, of 
 saying that mankind found an element of truth 
 in the fundamental idea of Christianity, that 
 of incarnate goodness, and so built an ideal 
 superstructure, and propped it up with fictitious 
 stories of the actions of a perfectly good man, 
 and then founded a theory that that good man 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 227 
 
 could only be God in human flesh; and to 
 support this wrote a book, in which he is 
 represented as calling himself God. However, 
 lam anticipating. What I say, then, is this, how 
 will you answer the man, who, believing in a God 
 of nature, says, *' And that God is sufficient" ? 
 B. I should ask him whether he means 
 sufficient for himself, or sufficient for mankind. 
 
 A. And if he said '' Sufficient for me " ? 
 
 B. I don't know that I could answer any- 
 thing. If a man were to tell me that the 
 notions of God, which he might have reasoned 
 out for himself, without any aid direct or 
 indirect from Moses or the Prophets, or the 
 IN'ew Testament, were sufficient for him, I 
 really think I must be silent ; or perhaps I 
 might venture to suggest, that among the 
 notions which had sprung up in the world, 
 was one which at least had received material 
 impulse from the New Testament, " ^N'o man 
 liveth for himself." Suppose, then, I should 
 say, "You have learned your present faith, 
 religion, doctrine, or opinion, from the light of 
 nature ; you have learned that the general good 
 is to be considered before the individual good. 
 Natural religion is enough for you, but you 
 ought not to be satisfied with that. Is it 
 enough for the world in general ?" 
 
 p 2 
 
228 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. And what if he replied, " It is." 
 
 B. Then I should say, " How is it that by far 
 the greatest number of men do not find it 
 enough ? Why are they always running into 
 all kinds of superstitions, inventing all kinds 
 of religions, gross, sensual, or ridiculous ? The 
 whole history of mankind is a proof that 
 natural religion is not enough for them ; either 
 they do not find it out for themselves, or if 
 they seem to have discovered some traces of it, 
 they overlaj'- it with so much that has not the 
 remotest connexion with it, that they are 
 scarcely in a better condition than if they had 
 no religion at all/' 
 
 A. But what if he reply, " This is to some 
 extent true. So far as Christianity makes 
 clearer the moral law and our relation to the 
 Creator, it is beneficial. All that it professes 
 to contain beyond this is superfluous and unim- 
 portant." To this what should you reply ? 
 
 B. I should say that his words were am- 
 biguous. 
 
 A. In what way ? 
 
 J3. He might mean either that the doctrine 
 of the Trinity was superfluous, or that by it the 
 moral law and our relation to the Creator were 
 made clearer. If he meant the latter, then 
 we should be in agreement; if the former, I 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 229 
 
 should say that, in my opinion, his notions of 
 Christianity were entirely inadequate. 
 
 A. In what way ? 
 
 B. Perhaps if you will state, what you con- 
 ceive to be the idea formed of Christianity by 
 such a man, I shall be able to explain myself 
 more distinctly. 
 
 A. Being in that condition, at least partiall}^ 
 myself, I can very fairly do so. Now I conceive 
 that Christianity was intended by its founder, to 
 be a religion to reform the moral darkness of 
 the human mind. Its object was to set before 
 men the consequences of sinful and vicious 
 lives, and to give them a supreme motive to 
 virtue, by presenting to them the idea of God, 
 under the form of Infinite Love. God being 
 their Creator, and His essence being Love, 
 the immediate consequence is that love must 
 be the actuating principle of human life. To 
 love God and love our neighbour, is the 
 v>^hole duty of man ; and this I take to be 
 a full account of the importance of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 7?. You have, indeed, stated a very essential, 
 perhaps I may say the most essential moral 
 element in the Christian religion; but in so 
 doing you have omitted some very important 
 points. In the first place, will you tell me 
 
230 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 in what way tliis clearer notion of Divine 
 goodness was conveyed to mankind ? 
 
 A. As far as we can see, it was impressed 
 upon mankind by Christ, Who, as it is related, 
 went about doing good, and calling all men to 
 the love of God. 
 
 B, Observe, then, the founder of the Christian 
 religion practically taught the doctrine of love 
 to God by works of mercy and healing. Those 
 works were, or at least appeared to be, beyond 
 the power of human skill. The healing of 
 paralytics, of the blind, the deaf, the dumb, 
 and the insane, was effected_, or at least 
 supposed to be effected, by the founder of 
 Christianity ; and He Himself professed to act 
 as He did, in accordance with predictions ut- 
 tered hundreds of years before. See^ then, the 
 Christian religion is held up to us, as being 
 founded by miracles and in accordance with 
 prophecy ; and thus it must be regarded as an 
 authoritative republication of natural religion. 
 Hence your view of it is not quite so simple, 
 obvious^ and reasonable as you supposed. You 
 are already, in a measure, committed to miracles 
 and prophecy ; at first blush, then, you must 
 either throw over the whole early history of 
 the religion as a mere fabrication, or give up 
 the preacher of love and righteousness as an 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 231 
 
 impostor, or prepare to consider the question of 
 miracles . and prophecy. You will find it very 
 difficult_, indeed to an unbiassed mind pretty 
 nearly impossible^ to accept either the first or 
 second alternative ; most men who accept 
 either, do so because they think it impossible 
 to accept the third. 
 
 A. And yet I see, if I accept either of the 
 former, I must resign my idea of Christianity 
 having any foundation in fact, and believing, 
 as I do, in a moral governor of the universe, 
 I must content myself with the notion, that He 
 leaves His creatures to blind themselves to 
 moral laws by all manner of cruel super- 
 stitions. 
 
 B. This, then, which you estimate as the 
 essential part of Christianity^ that it is a 
 republication of the law of nature,, implies 
 many other notions^ not quite so easily dis- 
 posed of as is frequently supposed. It is quite 
 possible to assert, that the founder of Christianity 
 really had a clearer insight into moral questions 
 than other teachers who preceded Him. What- 
 ever else be thought of Christ, the morality 
 which He inculcated will probably be allowed 
 to be in advance of His generation. 
 
 A. Few will be found to deny that. 
 
 B. Did He not also act so as to impress upon 
 
232 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 His disciples, that He was endued witli super- 
 natural powers ? 
 
 A. Assuredly this cannot be doubted. 
 
 JB. And if He did not possess them, would 
 not His life be an entire deceit ? 
 
 A. May He not have thought it right to 
 produce an impression upon men by the ap- 
 pearance of miracles, in order to influence them 
 more strongly by His moral teaching ? 
 
 B. In that case. His actions would have been 
 an entire contradiction to His teaching ; for the 
 spirit of His doctrine certainly was, that it is 
 immoral to do evil that good may come. How- 
 ever, let me ask you to reserve this point for the 
 present, as we shall probably consider it more 
 fully afterwards. 
 
 A. Certainly, if you desire it. But you will 
 pardon me for suggesting, that 3'OU are address- 
 ing yourself to a question not greatly concerned 
 with the difficulties of Christianity^ They who 
 hold the doctrines of natural religion do not 
 impugn the morality of Christ's teaching. They 
 allow that it set before men a high standard 
 both of action and worship. It inculcated pure 
 and high-minded lives, and a spiritual worship 
 of one God. The real objection to it lies in 
 this : it professed to announce new truths, and 
 enjoined fresh beliefs in accordance with those 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CIIIIISTIANITY. 233 
 
 supposed truths. It spoke not only of a Father, 
 but of a Son and a Holy Spirit, and announced 
 the necessity of a belief in this triple God- 
 head. 
 
 B. It did so. And if it announced fresh 
 truths, what possible reason can you assign for 
 not believing them ? 
 
 A. Pardon me. The great truth of the 
 existence of a God, though announced by 
 Christ, was discoverable by reason — at least 
 reason made it probable. But here are new 
 dogmas, of which reason knew nothing ; there- 
 fore they could have no real claim upon man- 
 kind. 
 
 B. Do you mean that no truth, of which our 
 own reason has not apprised us, is to be believed? 
 
 A. No : but that no truth, which reason 
 might not possibly discover, is binding upon 
 tlie conscience. 
 
 I). But can you certainly know that reason 
 could not possibly ascertain these truths ? You 
 do not know how far reason, pure and unassisted, 
 could have discovered the existence of a God. 
 Indeed, some men assert that their reason fails 
 entirely to ascertain this primary truth. After 
 sifting away all that human intellect has done 
 in this respect, you will find that you must 
 supply something, in the nature of a primary 
 
234 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 instinct or a revelation, to account for the 
 existence of the belief. 
 
 A. I believe that I have acknowledged the 
 necessity of this before. 
 
 B. Very well. JN'ow that primary truth, 
 however the knowledge of it has been derived, 
 demands our assent as being true. That our 
 reason corroborates the impressions derived 
 from our instincts is indeed an additional 
 obligation to believe it. When primary ideas 
 are supported by proof, the intensity of the 
 conviction is increased. Still truths, however 
 ascertained, demand assent from us. 
 
 A. Certainly. 
 
 £. Now Christianity gives expression to cer- 
 tain facts unknown before : it tells us of the 
 existence of God the Father, which had before 
 been known ; it informs us also of new truths, 
 viz. of the triple nature of the Godhead, and of 
 the relation of God the Son and God the Holy 
 Ghost to man. If these are truths, and if there 
 is such a Trinity in the Godhead, we are bound 
 to act upon the belief, just as much as we are 
 bound to act upon the belief that there is a 
 Creator. 
 
 A. But surely there is not the same obliga- 
 tion to believe in the Trinity or Triplicity of 
 God, as there is to believe in a Creator. The 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 235 
 
 latter is attested by evidence of all kinds : tlie 
 former rests only upon assertions unsupported 
 by proof. 
 
 B. As for tbe exact and precise mode in 
 which God is to be conceived as a Trinity, it 
 may perhaps be ioipossible to define or under- 
 stand it ; but the point at issue is, whether we 
 have a right to believe, upon the assertion of 
 the Founder of Christianity, that God stands to 
 us in a three-fold relation, as Creator, as Ee- 
 deemer, and as Sanctifier. You say that the 
 first is, for the most part, an inference of the 
 reason: the two last relations are unattested 
 by any proof, and only came into existence 
 with the introduction of Christianity. Suppose 
 this to be the case, yet, if it he a truth, it makes 
 little difierence how we become acquainted with 
 it, so long as we actually do know it. Once 
 made known, it is at our own peril that we 
 reject it and the moral obligations connected 
 with it. 
 
 A. What do you mean ? Do you mean that 
 it is no more perilous not to believe in a God at 
 all, than to refuse to believe in the redemption 
 and sanctification of mankind ? 
 
 B. I intend to say, that if salvation has been 
 ofiered to men by God the Son, and if the 
 means of acquiring a greater state of holiness is 
 
236 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 offered to us througli God the Holy Ghost, and 
 if these facts have been made known to us, it is 
 at our own peril that we reject them. Directly 
 they become known to us as facts, they lay us 
 under an obligation to act in accordance with 
 them. 
 
 A. The inference would seem to be, that we 
 are bound to believe anything which professes 
 to be a Divine revelation. 
 
 B. No; by no means. Butif it be announced by 
 one Who professes to have a Divine revelation, 
 and in Whose career no signs of hallucination 
 are to be found ; by one Whose life in purity, 
 beauty, and completeness stands unrivalled 
 among mankind ; Who wrought miracles, raised 
 the dead, cured the blind, the dumb, and 
 the leper; Who died, but rose from the 
 dead ; Who appeared after His resurrec- 
 tion to many ; Who was seen by several to 
 leave the earth in a condition of glory: — 
 if such a man proclaims a revelation, it 
 merits our best attention ; and if the revelation, 
 though it cannot be proved by reason, contains 
 nothing repugnant to reason, and falls in 
 with the moral facts of human nature, then 
 I say that we reject such a revelation at our 
 peril. 
 
 A. Yes ; but see how much you are assuming. 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 237 
 
 B. I am aware of it ; but at present we are 
 only seeing what is the importance of Chris- 
 tianity, supposing it to be true. The question 
 with which we started was " Is it worth while 
 to spend our time in investigating the evidence 
 for Christianity ?" And now you see that, even 
 if Christianity were only natural religion in a 
 new guise, it would be important, because it 
 comes attested by authoritative evidence. And 
 if it professes to be more than natural religion, 
 we have no right to reject its claims, unless we 
 also reject that part of it which attests natural 
 religion. 
 
 A. I cannot in the least see that we are 
 bound to accept its claims as a revelation of 
 new truths, because it bears witness to old ones. 
 
 B. At all events, if you reject the supposed 
 new truths, you do so because they are not true. 
 Now suppose a man related to you certain 
 events, some of which were familiar to you and 
 others quite new, would it not be reasonable to 
 believe what was new, if you found that the 
 account of the old was perfectly accurate ? 
 
 A. I suppose so. 
 
 B. But you propose to act quite differently 
 with regard to Christianity. You will accept 
 its testimony to natural religion as valuable, 
 but will repudiate its claims in any other respect. 
 
238 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. But is the testimony of Christianity even 
 to natural religion perfectly unimpeachable ? 
 It seems to me that many of the principles of 
 the Christian faith are incompatible with the 
 truths of natural religion. 
 
 JB. Will you mention an instance ? 
 
 A. Natural religion inculcates obedience to 
 parents, for example, as essential to a good 
 life. The reasons of this we can partly com- 
 prehend. But Christianity lays down certain 
 positive injunctions founded simply upon the 
 «}jse dixit of its Founder, or even upon in- 
 ferences from His word, and requires men to 
 obey them, even when they contravene the 
 duty of obedience to parents. The law of the 
 Christian Church appears to be, to set obedience 
 to ordinances before obedience to natural laws. 
 
 B. Surely this is a misconception of the Chris- 
 tian religion. The Founder of Christianity 
 rebukes the Scribes and Pharisees for the very 
 things you instance. He is very severe in 
 His rebuke of those who plead the service of 
 God as an excuse for neglecting their duty to 
 their parents. And the same is true of the 
 whole course of His teaching. He always sets 
 moral duties above positive enactments. 
 
 A. But surel}^ it is no misrepresentation to 
 say that in most cases, when a moral duty and 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 239 
 
 one of positive enactment come into collision, 
 the greater number of Christians v.^ould con- 
 sider it less dangerous to neglect the former 
 than the latter. 
 
 B. I do not think they would. But suppos- 
 ing that they would, what would it amount to ? 
 A proof that they had misunderstood their 
 Lord, but not an atom of proof that He ever 
 encouraged or countenanced such conduct, 
 
 A. But I thought the voice of the Church 
 was sufficient reason for the obedience of her 
 children. 
 
 B. Not as against the commands of our Lord. 
 And if anything can be plain, it is that He was 
 utterly opposed to those who made religion 
 consist in outward observances. You have only 
 to read His controversy with the Pharisees 
 respecting eating with unwashed hands, or 
 plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath, to 
 see how entirely He repudiates anything like 
 a mere formal obedience. 
 
 A. It seems to me that you may be a very 
 reasonable man, but you are scarcely loyal to 
 your religion, in thus giving up all its positive 
 enactments ; and I really do not see, after all, 
 that you ought to complain much of those who 
 ref^-ard Christianity as only one of a number of 
 partial glimpses of truth. 
 
240 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. I am at a loss to understand you. I have 
 never said that positive commands are not to 
 be obeyed. I said indeed, that, if ptositive and 
 moral laws conflicted, the latter must be con- 
 sidered pre-eminent, because they are enjoined 
 by our religion and sanctioned by our con- 
 science. But then you should remember that 
 if positive and moral commands appear to con- 
 flict, I hold that the antagonism arises from a 
 misconception of the scope and meaning of the 
 former ; and I have not acknowledged the 
 point which you assume, that direct injunctions, 
 of which we do not see the ground, are not 
 binding. Moreover, all the commands of Christ 
 have the value of moral precepts. 
 
 A. How do you establish that? Where is 
 the moral obligation to believe in the Tri- 
 nity? 
 
 B. That point has already been made clear. 
 Christ proclaims Himself the Saviour of men. 
 If He be so, there is a moral obligation of love, 
 reverence, and worship, arising from a sense of 
 gratitude for the unspeakable benefit conferred 
 upon us. Again, if the Holy Spirit be the 
 agent of our sanctification, there is a similar 
 moral obligation of love, reverence, and worship 
 to Him. 
 
 A. But what will you say to the question 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 241 
 
 of baptism, for example ? There is no moral 
 obligation there. 
 
 B. Oh yes, there is, to those who believe that 
 baptism is a means of grace. 
 
 A. Now you are involving us in the meta- 
 physics of theologians. 
 
 B. It is all very well for you to put aside 
 the argument. I am simply stating the grounds 
 upon which the majority of Christians consider 
 themselves bound to obey Christ's behest in this 
 respect. I firmly believe that all Christ's com- 
 mands have a moral basis. That basis is, that by 
 obeying them, we obtain the assistance which is 
 requisite to enable us to attain to moral puritj^, 
 and to fit ourselves for a future life in the society 
 of those who are supremely holy. I am quite 
 aware, that these questions belong more to the 
 domain of what we call Christian ethics than to 
 the investigation of the truth of Christianitj^ 
 But as you have challenged me to assign moral 
 grounds for our obedience, I am compelled to 
 step aside from the more general considerations 
 in which we are involved, and to specify our 
 particular reasons for obedience to individual 
 commands. 
 
 A. Do I understand you to mean that every 
 Christian doctrine has a moral basis ? 
 
 B. Most emphatically. 
 
242 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 A. What is the moral basis for the doctrine 
 of an infallible Church ? 
 
 B. I know of no such doctrine. 
 
 A. Surely it is of the very essence of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 B. I do not think so. The Scripture doctrine 
 of the Church is not correctly described in that 
 
 way. 
 
 A. What is the Scripture doctrine of the 
 
 Church ? 
 
 B. It is this. The Christian Church is a 
 society founded by Jesus Christ for the purpose 
 of preserving and bearing witness to the truths 
 which He proclaimed. Without such a society, 
 those truths could only have had a precarious 
 and temporary existence upon earth. They 
 would have been confined to a few persons, and 
 after their death would have gradually passed 
 out of remembrance. The principal duty of 
 the Church is to maintain and teach those 
 doctrines. So long as they are the basis of its 
 teaching, the Church will stand ; it has Christ's 
 promise to that effect; but if she fails to teach 
 the doctrines of Christ, both those which are 
 purely moral and those which are positive, the 
 Church has no ground for expecting a pro- 
 longed existence. If by infallible you mean a 
 Church which teaches indefectible truth, then 
 
THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 243 
 
 her infallibility rests upon the infallibility of 
 her Lord : and so the evidence of it is identical 
 with the evidence of Christ's Divinity. If you 
 mean, that whatever the Church teaches must 
 be true, because she is the Church, then I say 
 that no such doctrine is obligatory upon men. 
 
 A. Well, if you could show me that all the 
 doctrines of Christianity had a moral basis, I 
 think I should be ready to believe them. At 
 all events I should feel bound to try. The real 
 difficulty which meets me and many others at 
 the outset is, that there are a vast number of 
 minute and intricate questions which I am 
 required to accept, before I can be counted a 
 Christian at all. 
 
 B. Even there I think you are greatly mis- 
 taken. There are some truths, not self-evident, 
 which a Christian is required to believe. But 
 I cannot find that they are numerous or minute. 
 They are practically comprised in the Apostles' 
 Creed. 
 
 A. Surely, surely, you are understating the 
 case. Every Church requires of its members 
 much more than that. Your own Church de- 
 mands assent to Thirty-nine Articles, upon 
 every kind of subject. 
 
 B. But not as essential to salvation. A dis- 
 tinction is always drawn between saving truth 
 
 Q 2 
 
244 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 and matters of opinion. Now what the Church 
 of England says about the Thirty-nine Articles 
 is, that when questions arise respecting the 
 meaning of the teaching of Christ and His 
 apostles, these articles express the view com- 
 monly known as that of the Church of England. 
 They are a kind of test, by which a man may 
 judge whether his opinions accord with those 
 of the Church of England. But it is not sup- 
 posed that they are all of equal value or im- 
 portance. The condition of membership of the 
 Church is contained in the doctrines of the 
 Apostles' Creed, or even in less than that. 
 
 A. But would the Church of England justify 
 a clergyman for admitting an adult who pro- 
 fessed only a belief in the Trinity ? 
 
 JB. Most assuredly. 
 
 A. You make the essentials of Christianity 
 very few. 
 
 J3. It was the intention of its Founder to 
 embrace within the range of His society as 
 many members as possible. 
 
 A. In fact it seems to me that you will 
 scarcely exclude anybody. 
 
 J3. I could wish that none were excluded. 
 But I fear that you do not see that those essen- 
 tials are as fatal a stumbling-block to many as 
 if they were ten thousand. The doctrine of the 
 
THE IMPOHTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 245 
 
 Divinity of Clirist, which is essential, is a point 
 so diflBcult to human reason to comprehend, that 
 hundreds or rather thousands declare that they 
 cannot accept it. And it includes in it a vast 
 number of other questions. There is, it must 
 not be forgotten, a definite demand for belief 
 in certain fixed truths of revelation. This I 
 say by waj'' of caution, lest you should erro- 
 neously conclude that every one who confesses 
 the high moralit}^ inculcated by Christianity 
 to be admirable is thereby a member of the 
 Christian Church. 
 
 A. Once more the difficulties begin to close 
 me in. Your last observations had opened out 
 to me a hope, that I might at once call myself 
 a Christian. I see now that you still shut me 
 out in the cold. 
 
 B. Do not say so. Perhaps on further in- 
 vestigation you will find, that many of the 
 difficulties to which you allude may find a 
 parallel in the order of nature. And so, upon 
 the principles which have guided us through- 
 out, you may be led to allow that the demands 
 which the religion of Christ makes upon you, 
 are not greater than those to which j'ou yield, 
 when accepting the moral government of the 
 universe as a demonstrated truth. 
 
 A. Make that clear to me and I will render 
 
246 ON THE IMPORTANCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 you my thanks by conforming to tlie faith 
 which 3^011 uphold so strongly. 
 
 B. That indeed will be the most acceptable 
 reward that it is possible for me to receive. 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 247 
 
 DIALOGUE IT. 
 
 ON MIRACLES. 
 
 A. In the course of our conversation ^the 
 other day, I said that your argument would 
 lead to the conclusion that everything, which 
 asserted itself to be of Divine origin, would 
 claim our undeviating and complete obedience. 
 Such a result would evidently be an evil ; for 
 every impostor and marvel-monger would at 
 once be invested with a halo of sanctity, and 
 be at liberty to trade upon the credulity of 
 mankind. To this you replied, that no such 
 danger was to be apprehended from Chris- 
 tianity ; its claims are such as to preclude the 
 suspicion of imposture, and its evidences are 
 such as to give a Divine sanction to all the 
 words of its Founder. Supposing that I allow, 
 for the present, that no imposture was possible, 
 that Christ lived a life of exemplary purity and 
 simplicity, I have yet to meet the difficulty 
 that He might be an enthusiast, and therefore 
 in His speculative tlieology unreliable. To this 
 
248 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 you reply, by anticipation, that being supplied 
 with. Divine authority over the forces of nature, 
 the words which came from His lips touching- 
 Divine truths must be unimpeachable. Such 
 reasoning would appear valid were it not for 
 one fatal flaw. A miracle is simply incredible ; 
 no evidence could prove it. 
 
 B. "Why do you consider that a miracle is 
 incredible ? 
 
 A. Because it is a contradiction of the laws 
 of nature. 
 
 B. What do you understand by a law of 
 nature ? 
 
 A. I understand those fixed undeviating 
 principles, by which the Deity has ordained 
 that the course of nature shall be conducted. 
 
 B. Pardon me, if I say that you speak rather 
 boldly as to the mind of the Deity ; but not to 
 observe upon that, I should like you to tell me 
 how you know the laws of nature ? 
 
 A. By experience and observation. 
 
 B, Do experience and observation inform 
 you that nature is governed by laws which 
 cannot change ? 
 
 A. Certainly. 
 
 B. Let us take an instance and examine, 
 shall we say, the law of gravitation ? 
 
 A. If you please. 
 
DIALOGUE OS MIRACLES. 249 
 
 £. As I understand that law, it asserts that 
 certain matter upon this earth, when unim- 
 peded, tends to fall towards the centre of the 
 earth ; this, no doubt, is an instance of a still 
 more general law respecting the properties of 
 matter. Now how have we learned this property 
 of matter ? 
 
 A. Simply by observing that within the 
 experience of all persons such has been the case. 
 
 B. In this case, then, a law of nature may be 
 defined to be the result of the united obser- 
 vations of men ? 
 
 A, Yes; it is a generalization from expe- 
 rience. 
 
 B. You consider that there is no assumption, 
 no particle of imagination, involved in the 
 notion of a law of nature ? 
 
 ^. No ; that is the beauty of science, that 
 the laws which it establishes are the results 
 of observation and experiment. 
 
 B. Let us take another instance, the rising 
 of the sun. You will say, I presume, that 
 the daily appearance of the sun above the 
 horizon is an instance of the operation of a law 
 of nature ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly ; it is one of the commonest 
 and best established facts in nature ; the whole 
 world bears testimony to it. 
 
250 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 B. To what ? 
 
 A. That the sun will rise regularly every 
 morning. 
 
 B. "What ! does the whole world bear testi- 
 mony to what has never happened ? 
 
 A. I fail to understand jom. What can be 
 plainer than the whole life of man is regulated 
 by this universal conviction, that the sun will 
 rise to morrow ? 
 
 B. But you said just now, that the whole 
 world bears testimony to it. 
 
 A. Well, does it not ? 
 
 B. How can it testify to the rising of the 
 sun to-morrow ? testimony is of the past. 
 
 A, But the invariable rising of the sun up to 
 this day, is a proof that it will rise to-morrow, 
 is it not ? 
 
 B. A presumption, I grant you, quite suffi- 
 cient to act upon, but no irrefragable proof. 
 
 A. But the regularity of nature is a thing 
 proved beyond doubt. 
 
 B. And how do you know that nature is 
 uniform ? 
 
 A. All experience proves it. 
 
 B. Experience can only properly apply to 
 the present and the past. A thing has 
 happened regularly in time past ; it happened 
 to-day. So far experience can go. Directly, 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 251 
 
 however, that you proceed a step beyond this^ 
 and assert that it will happen to-morrow, you 
 imply something more than experience ; you 
 imply the principle "that the course of nature 
 is uniform.'' 
 
 A. But you will not deny that principle ? 
 
 B. Probably not ; but I am now pointing 
 out on what ground that general law is 
 assumed. You argue that the sun will rise 
 to-morrow, because it has risen hitherto ; that 
 is, you imply a belief in the uniformity of 
 nature; this uniformity of nature you prove 
 by observing that the sun has risen uniformly. 
 Now consider ; you prove your general prin- 
 ciple by a number of observations. If the sun 
 did not rise to-morrow, your principle would 
 be proved false and be no principle. You know 
 nothing about the future, but you assert un- 
 hesitatingly that the sun will rise to-morrow. 
 And so you jjrove the uniformity of nature, by 
 assuming that it is uniform. 
 
 A. I do not quite understand this. Have I 
 not a right to assume that, if the past has 
 been of a certain character, the future will be 
 like it ? 
 
 JB. Undoubtedly, you could not live or act 
 without so doing ; but the point is, that you 
 do assume it. You argue from the past to the 
 
252 DIALOGUE OX MIRACLES. 
 
 future upon the principle of their likeness or 
 resemhiance. And this is an assumption. 
 
 A. Say rather a self-evident principle. 
 
 B. That would not be correct : that only is 
 self-evident of which the contradictory is im- 
 possible. But to say that the future will not be 
 like the past, whatever else it may be, is not 
 the assertion of an impossibility. 
 
 A. But if the same thing recurs over and 
 over again, this surely is a proof that there 
 is some permanent underlying cause which 
 produces it. 
 
 B. Softly ; grant that there is a cause, all 
 that we know of it is from its effect. As far as 
 the effect goes we know of the cause, but not a 
 step farther. If we say that the cause is 
 permanent, that is just the same assumption as 
 to say that the effect will recur. We know 
 absolutely nothing more of the cause than of 
 the effect ; in fact we know less, for we only 
 know it through its effect. And to assert that 
 the cause icill produce its effect, is to assume 
 the principle that the future will be like the 
 past. 
 
 A. But is it not true that we argue from 
 experience, that the future will be like the 
 
 p 
 
 B. No, we assume it ; we do not argue from 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 253 
 
 experience. Experience lias only to do with 
 the past, and the sole ground upon which we 
 trust experience, is the principle in question 
 which we assume, that the future will resemble 
 the past. 
 
 A. But you do not mean to say that the 
 whole progress of science has depended upon a 
 precarious assumption ? Do you think that 
 inductive philosophy depends upon a principle 
 which it cannot prove ? Your opinion on this 
 matter would destroy confidence in science. 
 
 i?. Not so ; it ought only to destroy your 
 confidence in some of those excessive claims 
 which scientific men advance. If they say 
 that the sun will rise to-morrow, I assent, 
 because I understand that statement with the 
 implied proviso of probability ; but if they 
 intend to assert that it is impossible that the 
 sun should not rise to-morrow, then I demur, 
 because a principle is assumed which, however 
 generally true, is incapable of rigid demon- 
 stration. 
 
 A. Ah! now I detect the fallacy of your 
 reasoning. Of course it is possible that the 
 sun may not rise to-morrow, because a new 
 cause or influence may be brought to bear, 
 neutralizing those forces which cause the un 
 to appear over the horizon. 
 
254 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 B. I do not think your criticism affects the 
 question. We might take any other instance, 
 the most scientific induction you please, and, 
 after all, the arguments will be found to amount 
 to this. A certain phenomenon is to be ac- 
 counted for ; observation and strict investigation 
 are brought to bear upon it ; all the antecedent 
 circumstances are carefully inspected; if possible, 
 observations are made of the phenomenon under 
 all kinds of aspects ; and in the end the result of 
 this part of the process is, that it is ascertained 
 that the phenomenon A is preceded uniformly 
 by the phenomenon B. Hence is inferred what 
 is called a Imo of nature ; but in the inference 
 there enters in just that assumption of which I 
 have spoken : because in all cases which I have 
 observed, A is preceded by B ; therefore in all 
 cases which I have not observed, and in all 
 future time when B occurs, A must follow. 
 Do you not see that in this there is a plain 
 assumption of the principle that the future will 
 be like the past, and here the process ceases to 
 be scientific ? Up to that point the inquiry has 
 been conducted on strictly logical grounds ; but 
 here comes an assumption which you cannot prove, 
 and which, state it how you will, is resolved 
 at last into the simple reiteration of the prin- 
 ciple, that the course of nature must be uniform. 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 255 
 
 A. But to deny it, would be to contradict all 
 experience. 
 
 B. Do you mean all your experience, or 
 universal experience ? 
 
 A. Universal experience, of whicli mine is a 
 type. 
 
 B. In that, again, you are not arguing, but 
 assuming. You fancy that all men's experience 
 must resemble yours ; but you do so on the 
 ground, that the course of nature is uniform, 
 that is, you reiterate the old assumption. 
 
 A. Yet, if it be not so, it would be impossible 
 to act at all. 
 
 B. Perfectly so ; but in so speaking you are 
 quitting the high ground which you have 
 assumed, that it is impossible for the laws of 
 nature to be suspended or contravened ; as for 
 the uniformity of nature, I cordially confess it : 
 what I object to is the assumption, that that 
 uniformity cannot possibly be suspended for 
 any purpose. As a practical principle, the 
 uniformity of nature is invaluable ; but when 
 you require me to give up all miracles, on the 
 ground that the observed laws of nature cannot 
 be contradicted, then I examine into this prin- 
 ciple itself, and find that, however certain it 
 may appear, it involves an assumption quite 
 incapable of proof; an assumption not self- 
 
256 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 evident, but an absolute universal^ evolved 
 from individual observations, and incapable of 
 being proved by tbe laws of nature, because it 
 is itself employed to substantiate those laws. 
 
 A. But what if I say that miracles are 
 impossible, because they are contrary to all 
 experience ? 
 
 B. You have stated that already, and I have 
 shown it to be an assumption. 
 
 A. But how is it an assumption ? 
 
 B. Because it begs the whole question. 'No 
 one believes in miracles, except on the ground 
 that in some one's experience they have oc- 
 curred. We say that the testimony which we 
 have to miracles is strong and credible, and if 
 you say that nothing which does not come 
 within your experience can be believed, you 
 will find such an assertion extremely embarrass- 
 ing, and likel}^ to limit the progress of know- 
 ledge ; for if your neighbour has had experiences 
 which you have not had, on this principle 
 you will have to reject his testimony utterly. 
 You will find such a principle impossible to 
 work. 
 
 A. Yes ; but there is a difierence. When 
 his experience contradicts the laws of nature, 
 then I shall say it is impossible to receive it ; 
 so long as it keeps within the bounds of known 
 
DIALOOrE ON MIRACLES. 257 
 
 law, I sliall believe or not, according to my 
 estimate of his character. But no testimony 
 can prove what is beyond all experience and 
 therefore impossible. 
 
 B. I confess I can only repeat what I have 
 said before. If we are not to consider the 
 statements of our witnesses as part of the 
 experience of mankind, you can of course get 
 rid of any miracle by at once denying the truth 
 of the testimony. But, even then, you have 
 only shown, by the help of a very remarkable 
 assumption, that this, that, or the other miracle 
 has not taken place. 
 
 A. A very small thing this, I presume ! 
 
 B. Small or great, it is unimportant when 
 compared with the points with which you 
 started. 
 
 A. How so ? 
 
 B. You commenced by stating nakedly, that 
 miracles are impossible ; you end by saying, 
 that you will not believe any one who bears 
 witness to a miracle. 
 
 A. Where is the diflPerence ? 
 
 B. Little, perhaps, in your intention, but 
 still this. We have seen that there is no a 
 priori argument against a miracle. A miracle, 
 then, is not impossible. But you will not 
 believe that one ever occurred ; and why not ? 
 
 R 
 
258 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 No longer, because it cannot have taken place : 
 but because it has not taken place. The 
 incredulity remains : tbe original ground of it 
 is gone. You will not believe that any expe- 
 rience can contradict your experience. 
 
 A. Add, also, tbe experience of all other 
 men. 
 
 B. The experience of all otber men, with, 
 the exception of those whose experience bears 
 witness to the miracles. If you persist in 
 asserting that their evidence, however other- 
 wise unimpeachable, must go for nothing, 
 because it contravenes general experience, I 
 can only reiterate that you are arguing in a 
 circle. '' All things must happen in the way 
 that we see them happen ; there can be no 
 variation, because any variation would imply 
 that the}^ have not always happened according 
 to a regular law." Such is your argument; 
 and turn it how you will, it dejMuds iqoon 
 itself for its validity. 
 
 A. I begin to see that there really is a 
 difficult}^, and that I have been too hasty in 
 assuming the impossihiUfy of a miracle. Yet 
 still the im2')rohahUity is so great, that I should 
 require the very best of evidence to prove it. 
 
 B. Certainl}^, that is but reasonable. 
 
 A. Now, as in the ordinary course of nature 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 259 
 
 no miracle has ever taken place, it seems to 
 me, that we ought to view with the utmost 
 suspicion any evidence which professes to assert 
 a miracle. 
 
 B. If you mean by suspicion careful scrutiny, 
 I agree with you ; if, however, you mean a 
 determination not to believe, and a grave 
 prejudice against the witnesses before they 
 have been heard, then I must remark that 
 you will be misled by scientific imagination. 
 
 A. Scientific imagination ! My good friend, 
 you might as well speak of irrational reasoning. 
 
 jB. Pardon me. If when science shows you 
 perpetual instances of uniformity, you assume, 
 by help of the principle j ust discussed, a neces- 
 sary uniformity in nature, then you are the 
 victim of scientific imagination. Your mind is 
 influenced by what Bacon calls an idol, an 
 image, which has usurped the place of the 
 logical understanding, and distorts the faculty 
 of perception ; I say, then, that you must not 
 begin with a prejudice that a miracle is im- 
 possible, but must suppose that, being not 
 impossible, it may be proved by sufficient 
 evidence. 
 
 A. It is very difficult to abolish this notion 
 from the mind. 
 
 B. Doubtless ; and therefore in all fairness 
 
 B 2 
 
260 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 you ought to scrutinize your objections very 
 closely. However, it may assist you to know, 
 that a miracle has already taken place, upon 
 evidence which cannot be refused. 
 
 A. Pray what is that ? 
 
 B. Creation. 
 
 A. Do you mean the Creation in the first 
 chapter of Genesis ? 
 
 B. No, I am speaking of a beginning of 
 things. 
 
 A. But what if things had no begin- 
 ning? 
 
 B. To imagine that, is to imagine a greater 
 marvel than any Creation ; or rather, I should 
 say, you cannot imagine it ; it is incredible 
 in fact, and impossible in thought. You may 
 imagine a portent which never occurred, or a 
 monster which never existed ; but to imagine 
 the eternity of matter is impossible ; science 
 will not permit you to do so. Scientific investi- 
 gations lead you back from the more complex 
 to the simpler ; but go as far back as you will, 
 you come at last to a stage when absolute 
 simplicity is reached. Call it what you will, 
 a germ or a protoplasm, there is at least an end 
 to the series. 
 
 A. But if I say that the original germ has 
 existed from all eternity ? 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 261 
 
 B. In so doing you deny the protoplasm ; 
 for if there is no beginning of germination, 
 there is no protoplasm. 
 
 A. But the protoplasm may have existed, 
 and yet not begun to germinate. 
 
 B. Then, in the beginning of the process, a 
 new force has come in, and there is a change in 
 nature : something has begun to operate which 
 a moment ago did not operate. Here, at once, 
 is the outline of a Creative act, and a refutation 
 of the uniformity of nature, for the new force 
 has produced change. 
 
 A. But what you regard as a new force, 
 should more properly be stated to be a latent 
 force suddenly introduced into the sphere of 
 the germ in question. 
 
 B. Immediately that you use the word 
 '' suddenly'' you acknowledge an infraction of 
 the uniformity of nature. 
 
 A. Still, may we not imagine that there are 
 unknown forces, to which all these results may 
 be ultimately reduced ? 
 
 B. Once more, when you suppose unknown 
 forces to operate, you surrender the position 
 you have assumed. If unknown law is to be 
 brought in to explain difficulties, I cannot see 
 the difficulty of believing that the Creator may 
 have caused those unknown laws to operate 
 
262 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 on occasions whlcli His Infinite wisdom has 
 appointed. 
 
 A. But by unknown law, I mean perma- 
 nent operating agencies, not occasional and 
 capricious ones. 
 
 B. In sliort you prefer to accept on faith 
 hidden causes of which you know nothing, 
 rather than the will of the Creator, of which 
 the vast majority of mankind consider them- 
 selves to have at least an indistinct impression. 
 
 A. Pardon me, it is you now who are arguing 
 in a circle. You wish to prove the existence of 
 God by the evidence of miracles ; now you are 
 assuming His existence to prove miracles. 
 
 B. No ; you are mistaken. I do not imagine 
 that men will be persuaded by miracles of God's 
 existence ; nor did the Founder of Christianity 
 hold any such opinion. ''If they hear not 
 Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be per- 
 suaded though one rose to them from the dead." 
 Such is His language. Miracles imply some 
 sort of a belief in God previously to their being 
 used as evidence. They imply a personal God, 
 One Who has power to act on nature. Without 
 this belief, they are of no effect ; for a man 
 whose mind is firmly persuaded that religion 
 is a delusion, must necessarily view all its 
 evidences through a different medium. He 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 263 
 
 must resort to any explanation, however vio- 
 lent, to remove the evidences. Such a man 
 cannot accept miracles as evidence, because his 
 first principle is that, there being no active God, 
 no interference with nature is possible. But the 
 force of miracles, as evidence, is to serve as 
 Divine credentials, and to prove the intro- 
 duction of a distinctive change in moral and 
 religious knowledge. 
 
 A. Do you not then regard the Christian 
 miracles as intended to convert the heathen ? 
 
 B. Certainly ; but not as adequate to con- 
 vince the Atheist, The scope of a miracle 
 appears to be this. At certain periods of the 
 world's history, great changes in the moral 
 atmosphere, as well as in the religious belief 
 of mankind, have been effected. On certain of 
 these occasions, but especially at that time, 
 when One appeared to revolutionize the re- 
 ligions of the world and to preach a doctrine— 
 ^^ich required, as its primary element, personal 
 reverence to the Teacher, as to One far above 
 the sons of men— strong attesting proofs were 
 needed that the doctrines inculcated were of 
 Divine origin. The highest human virtue was 
 no sufficient proof of this. Nothing but a 
 superhuman power over nature could give 
 adequate proof of the truth of the claims urged 
 
264 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 by such a Teacher. But if He were such as He 
 declared himself to be, then His miracles would 
 be the most natural result of His life, and the 
 only sufficient proof of His Divine mission. It 
 is no exaggeration to say, that if such a person 
 as Christ ever did appear upon this world's 
 scene, so far from it being extraordinary for 
 Him to work miracles, it would be extraordinary 
 if He did not. 
 
 A. How so ? His doctrines, if true, would 
 win their w^ay by their intrinsic truth. 
 
 B. Not necessarily so, if they are the revela- 
 tion of truths not discernible by reason. When 
 a person professes to instruct us in new truth, 
 our first natural question is, " What proof do 
 you give, that we should believe you ?" The 
 only possible reply in such matter as this is, 
 " The w^orks that I do, they bear witness of Me." 
 For of the secrets of the spiritual world, and 
 of our relation to them, our own knowledge, 
 acquired chiefly from sensible objects, cannot 
 be sufficient evidence. If a person of eminent 
 excellence and integrity asserts a knowledge of 
 Divine things not possessed by others, we have 
 a right to demand a proof of his spiritual 
 insight. No proof of this could be so con- 
 vincing as a palpable exhibition of power over 
 the hidden forces of nature. I do not mean 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 265 
 
 to say that pou-er is all that can be discerned in 
 tlie works of Jesus Christ, nor would I have 
 you to suppose that I think no other form 
 of evidence of value; but such evidence, if 
 afforded, would plainly demand our assent 
 more powerfully than any other. 
 
 A. But, as I read history, great reformers 
 of religion and morals have succeeded without 
 miracles. Mahomet, for instance, and Luther, 
 required no miracles to support them. 
 
 JB. Luther, you must remember, appealed to 
 previous miracles. He endeavoured to restore 
 the religion, which Christ had founded, to its 
 original purity ; he professed to make no 
 revelation. Mahomet did profess to make a 
 revelation, but if you will compare the position 
 occupied by Christ, with reference to the social 
 forms around Him, with that occupied by 
 Mahomet, you will see a good reason, why 
 miracles should be essential to the one and not 
 to the other. 
 
 A. How will you convince me of that ? 
 
 B. The system of Mahomet, though in many 
 ways novel, cannot be considered greatly dif- 
 ferent in its moral tone from the ordinary 
 Oriental religions. It did, in fact, in the ma- 
 jority of cases, adapt itself to the people among 
 whom it arose. In the hands of Mahomet 
 
266 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 religion was drawn down to the level of ordi- 
 nary morals : tlie special forms of self-indul- 
 gence, to which Eastern nations are prone were 
 allowed, or only lightly condemned; and 
 thus there was no special difficulty to prevent 
 such a system taking root. But it was very 
 different with Christianity. It presented an 
 ideal of life elevated, but not alluring. It set 
 itself directly in antagonism to the leading 
 ideas of the world, and boldly required the 
 surrender of all that men hold valuable, the 
 acquisition of an entirely new moral code, and 
 that of such a nature, that the opposition of all 
 classes might be expected to its development. 
 It is of course easy to assert that this system, 
 if true, would have made its way without 
 assistance ; but one must confess that, accord- 
 ing to universal experience (which has occupied 
 us so much in this conversation), such an event 
 would be incredible, and scarcely less a marvel 
 than any special miracle objected to. 
 
 A. Still, it appears to me some ground of 
 objection against the Christian miracles, that 
 they do so evidently fit in with Divine claims. 
 They are just the events, that in those days 
 would catch the ignorant and superstitious, 
 who would not care to inquire into the validity 
 of what was reported. 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIKACLES. 267 
 
 B. But you must observe it as a remarkable 
 fact that the early Christian writers, tliougb 
 tliey bad the record of the miracles before 
 them, refer to them as evidence with compa- 
 rative reserve. They knew of the miracles, as 
 reported in the Gospels, and yet they dwelt 
 upon other points as of more importance. 
 
 A. Is that in truth so ? 
 
 B. I think, if you will examine, you will not 
 long be in doubt. 
 
 A. And how do you account for it ? 
 
 B. Because of the constant claims of sorcerers 
 and magicians to divine power. Hence it would 
 seem that, so far from inventing these miracles 
 for purposes of evidence, the early Christian 
 writers, while believing in them, appealed to 
 other evidences on behalf of their faith. This 
 may be taken as an argument in favour of the 
 miracles, because it proves that the early 
 Christians did not invent them, in order to 
 have a miraculous basis for their story. 
 
 But the question of the nature of the testi- 
 mony upon which we believe the Christian 
 miracles, is entirely independent. What we are 
 really discussing is whether a miracle is jmsible. 
 We have seen then that in the nature of 
 things there is no necessary absurdity in the 
 occurrence of a miracle. Absolute uniformity 
 
268 DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 
 
 in nature is really an assumption^ based upon 
 individual observations, and cannot be taken 
 as in itself a disproof of all miraculous agencj'. 
 The idea of a hog inning seems to be necessary 
 to the human mind : we cannot divest ourselves 
 of it. Even were matter eternal, the develop- 
 ment of matter involves an idea of commence- 
 ment. The idea of a personal God removes 
 any difficulty against miraculous agency ; but 
 that idea is antecedent to a belief in miracles, 
 and is not and cannot be proved by them. We 
 have also seen that, if a revelation of new Divine 
 truths were to take place, the best credentials 
 of the agent in the revelation would be a power, 
 delegated from God, to suspend the ordinary 
 course of nature. Still it is necessary to re- 
 mind you, that you must not regard miracles 
 as the sole evidence of Christianity, but must 
 take them in conjunction with many other 
 things. These evidences have a correlative 
 value : they tend to prove and to throw light 
 upon each other ; and therefore, though no part 
 of our evidence can be regarded as, in itself, 
 absolutely demonstrative, yet the whole taken 
 together may be found to command an assent 
 of a very marked and decided character. This 
 however is plain, that whatever be the value 
 of the assumption that the course of nature is 
 
DIALOGUE ON MIRACLES. 269 
 
 uniform (and no doubt it is most valuable), yet 
 it is an assumption based more or less on pro- 
 bable evidence, and has no claim to be regarded 
 as of such a i^riori value, that the testimony of 
 sane, serious, and truthful witnesses is at once 
 to be rejected, because their testimony and this 
 principle are found to be in conflict. 
 
270 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 OBJECTIONS TO THE SCHEME OF CHRISTIANITY 
 CONSIDERED. 
 
 A. You must not suppose that your argu- 
 ment of yesterday has obviated all the diffi- 
 culties which occur to me in reviewing the 
 Christian religion. A miracle, viewed as a 
 suspension of the general laws of nature, may 
 be possible. I mean that, as an abstract ques- 
 tion, the possibility of the suspension of God's 
 laws may be conceded, and yet the particular 
 miracle, or series of miraculous events, called 
 the Christian religion, may still be objected to. 
 
 B. I never thought that my arguments 
 yesterday were a full answer to all objections. 
 All that I was concerned to prove was, that the 
 rejection of Christianity because it professes to 
 have been established by miracles was un- 
 reasonable. It is quite open for you to object 
 against the particular miracles in question. 
 You may say that the proof of their having 
 taken place is unsatisfactory, and this is a dis- 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 271 
 
 tinct question. Or you may assert that, so far 
 as a claim to miracles establishes the proof of a 
 religion, my last arguments may be held to 
 prove the truth of any religion which lays claim 
 to special miracles. 
 
 A. May I not also say that the internal diffi- 
 culties of the Christian religion are so great as 
 to amount to a disproof of its truth ? 
 
 B. You may, of course, say this; but you 
 will have to substantiate your objections by 
 details. 
 
 A. That I proceed to do. 
 
 B. In what manner ? 
 
 A. Thus. I say at once, that the so-called 
 Christian revelation seems to fail from its own 
 inherent weakness. It professes to be a decla- 
 ration, on God's part, of certain new truths, 
 and a republication of others known before. 
 If it comes from God, it ought to be more com- 
 plete than it is. But, as is confessed on all 
 hands, its doctrines are beset with difficulties. 
 Many things are left in great uncertainty : 
 some of its doctrines are absurd and incon- 
 ceivable : large portions of it, notably those 
 which treat of the position of the clergy, of the 
 nature of the Lord's Supper, of the gift of the 
 Holy Ghost, have tended to foster tyranny and 
 superstition. What can be more monstrous 
 
272 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 than the doctrine of Transubstantiation, or of 
 the Infallibility of the Pope, or of the power of 
 men to forgive sins ? And yet all these doc- 
 trines are deduced, with how much justice I do 
 not say, from the words of Scripture. 
 
 B. Pardon me for interrupting. You surely 
 will not say, that if men choose to imagine that 
 they can deduce conclusions which cannot pro- 
 perly be drawn from the Scripture revelation, 
 this is an argument against the revelation ? 
 
 A. Why, yes. If it came from God, sucli 
 things would not be possible. My objection 
 here is that the supposed revelation is utterly 
 uncertain, and therefore not a revelation at all. 
 
 B. Well, let that pass for the present: we 
 will revert to it. I should like to hear a con- 
 tinuation of your objections. Possibly we may 
 find general considerations sufficient to answer 
 your difficulties, when the whole tenour of them 
 is stated. 
 
 A. Then, again ; here is a revelation intended 
 for all mankind, which was really given only 
 to a few, and even now has only penetrated to 
 a small portion of mankind. That is a grave 
 objection. The Eevelation is only partial at 
 best. And even what is given is based upon 
 such uncertain arguments, that it ought not to 
 be reckoned compulsory on men to believe. 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 273 
 
 B. And now tell me what you expect in a 
 Divine revelation? 
 
 A. I expect that it should bear such evident 
 traces of the Divine intention, that no one should 
 be able to dispute it ; that it should immediately 
 commend itself to all men ; that it should have 
 no uncertainties, no possibility of being misin- 
 terpreted, or of being applied to selfish purposes 
 of individual aggrandisement ; that it should 
 not be subject to capricious alteration by the 
 agency of fraud or time ; that every man should 
 have it in its perfection and entirety. 
 
 B. And on what grounds do you found such 
 an expectation ? 
 
 A. On my ideas of what is to be expected 
 from God's goodness and providence. 
 
 B. Let us turn from revelation to the natural 
 world. Do you find all things there just as you 
 would expect ? Are there no difficulties in it ? 
 
 A. Certainly there are. But then, in dis- 
 cerning the Divine agency there, I have been 
 left to my own experience and reason to trace 
 out the laws. 
 
 B. So then, confessing that on the whole there 
 are signs of God's providence in the world, you 
 are still constrained to admit that there are 
 many things contrary to your expectations? 
 
 A. I have frequently confessed it to you. 
 
274 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. And yet you will not admit that a par- 
 ticular revelation is Divine, because it does not 
 accord with your preconceived expectations of 
 what it ought to be. Let me put the matter in 
 this way. Surely you would not hold to this 
 opinion in the following circumstances. Sup- 
 pose you lived under a code of laws, which in 
 the main were just and upright, but yet con- 
 tained some things, the drift and tenour of 
 which you found it difficult to comprehend ; and 
 that on a certain occasion the governing body 
 (supposed to be the same which made the first 
 code) suspended the laws and introduced others, 
 would you consider it a proof that the new laws 
 did not come from the same source, because there 
 were also difficulties in them ? If you knew 
 yourself to be an incompetent judge in the 
 former case, you would also expect to be at 
 fault in estimating the latter. Is not that so ? 
 
 ^. I do not like this general way of arguing, 
 because my objections are particular rather than 
 general. 
 
 B. Still, I must ask you to state, whether 
 the confessed difficulties in the natural go- 
 vernment of the universe ought to prepare us 
 for difficulties in revelation, or not ? 
 
 A. As far as this general proposition goes, I 
 do not object to it. 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 275 
 
 B. Without, then, entering farther into the 
 general view, let us attend to the particulars 
 which you enumerate. Shall you object to 
 specify one special objection which you think 
 insurmountable ? 
 
 A. By no means. I think that by far the 
 best plan. If the revelation is from God, then 
 they who conveyed the revelation must be in- 
 spired ; but the doctrine of the inspiration of 
 Scripture is quite untenable. 
 
 B. That is a very broad charge. 
 
 A. But not more broad than just. How can 
 that be inspired which is full of errors and con- 
 tradictions ? 
 
 B. Why, truly, if you could show that the 
 narrative in the Bible is so contradictory, that 
 no possible explanation can reconcile the diffi- 
 culties : this would go far to shake the doctrine 
 of its inspiration. Still, even if this were so 
 (which I do not grant), you must remember that 
 the account at least of the Christian revelation 
 contained in the Gospels does not depend upon 
 the inspiration of the writers. The only ques- 
 tion is, whether what they relate is credible 
 and true ; because, if their narrative is a faithful 
 account of the life of Christ, of His actions and 
 His teaching, a few inaccuracies in the narrative 
 would not alter the general facts. They might 
 
276 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 indeed shake tlie general theory of inspiration. 
 Some extreme theories, such as that <di plenary 
 verbal inspiration, are indeed refuted by the 
 narrative, because it is plainly impossible that 
 Christ could have spoken different words at the 
 same time; and plenary verbal inspiration 
 implies that every single word was dictated 
 directly by God, and thus God would be made 
 to dictate inaccuracies as pure truth. This I 
 will concede, but I cannot think that this is all 
 which you mean. 
 
 A. By no means. Is it not strange that 
 God should dictate inaccurate grammar, for 
 the Evangelists and St. Paul wrote very strange 
 Greek? And is it not also strange that He 
 should permit various readings to perplex the 
 believer ? 
 
 B. My good friend, you are not surely going 
 to insist upon this as an objection ! 
 
 A. Why not ? 
 
 B. Who ever told you, or how have you 
 o-athered that God has promised that the Jews 
 of Capernaum, or Nazareth, or Jerusalem should 
 write Attic Greek, or that He has led us to 
 expect that He would preserve the record 
 from the effects of time or the errors of 
 copyists ? 
 
 A, Why, I cannot see how the revelation can 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 277 
 
 come from Him, unless He extends this protec- 
 tion to it. 
 
 B. In other words, you return to your old 
 argument. You evolve an idea from your own 
 mind as to what God ought to do, and when 
 you find it not done, you at once assume that 
 the hand of God is not traceable in the work. 
 Surely in a revelation you ought not to erect 
 your own fancies into absolute canons. 
 
 A. But if not, I do not see how we are to 
 judge at all of the matter. 
 
 B. I wish I could get you to see this, that 
 we must be very incompetent judges of a reve- 
 lation, because we have no experience, except 
 that of nature, to judge from. 
 
 A. Well, then, I will change my ground, 
 and will revert to the argument that revelation, 
 instead of conveying certain knowledge to us, 
 leaves us involved in as much obscurity as be- 
 fore. How can that be a revelation which is 
 capable of being interpreted in a thousand dif- 
 ferent ways ? It is impossible to believe that 
 God would intend to supply us with knowledge, 
 and, instead of so doing, involve us in difficulty. 
 
 B. Do I understand you to mean that the 
 language of Scripture ought to be more clear ? 
 
 A. Yes ; and more than that, it ought not 
 to be capable of being misunderstood. 
 
278 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. Now let us take a parallel instance. How 
 does God give us information in tlie natural 
 world ? 
 
 A. By reason. 
 
 B. And is reason a certain and infallible 
 guide ? Do all men, from the same premisses, 
 arrive at tlie same conclusions ? Do they not, 
 according to their preconceptions and associa- 
 tions, diverge asunder as widely as possible ? 
 And yet they have the same facts to argue from. 
 This does not indeed show that there is not one 
 right way ; but it does show that the guide to 
 knovrledge which we possess is by no means a 
 certain one. And so revelation, though it has 
 but one right meaning, may be interpreted a 
 thousand different ways, according to the idio- 
 syncrasies of the reader. 
 
 A. Yet you would think that only one way 
 of reading it should be possible, w^hen it is 
 conveyed in language dictated by Almighty 
 God. 
 
 B. Let me again say that we have no proof 
 that the language, as distinguished from the 
 matter, was dictated by Him. But, besides 
 this, just consider what so frequently occurs 
 with language in ordinary matters. Is any 
 thing more uncertain or capricious ? However 
 precisely any document is worded, an acute law- 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 279 
 
 yer will find a flaw, or at least raise a doubt as 
 to its meaning. A subtle casuist will so employ 
 words, tbat all his hearers will believe him to 
 mean one thing, while he means something 
 quite .difierent. And yet language is God's 
 appointed means of conveying knowledge. 
 AYhy should we expect that these difficulties 
 should not arise, when information is conveyed 
 to us through the medium of revelation ? 
 
 A. But then you must remember that if 
 Christiaaity is true, errors as to its truths are 
 incomparably more important than in other 
 things. 
 
 J5. Be it so. And yet there are things 
 vitally aflPecting men's temporal welfare, in 
 which the uncertainty of language grievously 
 misleads them. 
 
 A. But in addition to the uncertainty of the 
 Christian revelation, I find an objection in its 
 evident incompleteness. Instead of telling us 
 the whole of that which we desire to know, it 
 leaves us in great darkness upon many of the 
 most interesting and essential points. Some 
 things are enlarged upon at great length, which 
 are of small importance and only of temporary 
 interest : others, which we crave to know with 
 all the longing of which our nature is capable, 
 are passed over with a word. 
 
280 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. And do you think this a fair objection to 
 the Christian revelation ? 
 
 A. Clearly it is. Revelation professes to in- 
 struct men in vital truths. If it does not, it 
 ceases to deserve the name. 
 
 B. Let me be sure that I comprehend the 
 scope of your objection. 
 
 A. What does revelation tell us of the origin 
 of good and evil, and their essential relations 
 to one another ? How does it explain the in- 
 troduction of evil into the universe ? You will 
 say, perhaps, in the narrative of the Fall. 
 But that is not so ; for, even in that account, 
 the author of evil is already existent ; and 
 theology has been compelled to indulge in all 
 sorts of fantastic dreams to explain this 
 o-reat fact. Then what does revelation tell us 
 
 o 
 
 of the nature of the soul? Nothing at all. 
 All the most difficult problems are left un- 
 touched. 
 
 B. I think, if you study the Christian revela- 
 tion carefully, you will find that it tells us very 
 much about the soul. It does not indeed ex- 
 plain how the soul and body become united 
 (speaking popularly) ; nor does it explicitly pro- 
 pound a theory of psychology ; but of the facts 
 of the soul's life it tells us very much, and of the 
 effects of evil upon it. These are surely interest • 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 281 
 
 ing matters, of no less importance than the 
 speculative questions to which you refer. 
 
 A, Still we ought to hear more of those 
 psychological questions. 
 
 B. That is, you are of opinion that we ought. 
 Now let us turn to nature, and see what is 
 the case with the information which we derive 
 from her. Do we find that the lines of know- 
 ledge which nature opens to us, are exactly pro- 
 portioned to our expectation ? Are the matters 
 which are of most vital importance, always the 
 readiest to our hand ? Astronojuf/ is a glorious 
 and interesting science ; but, as far as we can 
 see, neither so important nor so vitally interest- 
 ing as the laws of human life. The remedies 
 for disease are, one would think, matters of 
 universal interest ; and yet perhaps nothing is 
 more uncertain than the mode of treatment of 
 disease, the influence of remedies upon the human 
 organism, and all the details of medical science. 
 AVhat can be stranger than that men have traced 
 the laws of the heavenly bodies, have been able 
 to predict the exact hour at which flights of 
 asteroids made their appearance, while the 
 knowledge of what is serviceable to relieve pain 
 and disease remains most uncertain and rudi- 
 mentary, even in the present day ? 
 
 A. But is that so ? 
 
282 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. You have only to observe the fluctuations 
 in the theory of medicine, in the course of a 
 generation, to be assured of it. At the present 
 day the acknowledged theory is, that you can 
 only assist nature to cure herself. Compare 
 that with the theories of a few years ago, and 
 how uncertain does the science seem ! And 
 yet nothing can be more shallow, than the sneer 
 of some thoughtless people at physicians, as if 
 they were ignorant and stupid, for they number 
 among them some of the brightest and most 
 acute intellects of our time ; and the higher the 
 intellect, the more readily will it confess the 
 uncertainty of its knowledge. 
 
 A. But how does this serve your argument? 
 
 B. In this way. If jovl argue about the 
 sciences a jjriori, you would expect to find the 
 science of healing much easier to acquire, much 
 more certain in its application than the science 
 of astronomy. If you look to the facts you 
 find the reverse to be the case ; and, therefore, 
 if in revelation you find some things made clear, 
 which appear to be of less importance, while 
 others of deeper interest are left uncertain, you 
 ought to acknowledge that the laws of natural 
 information and of supernatural instruction are 
 analogous in this respect. 
 
 A. Well ; but if it be reasonable to expect 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 283 
 
 a degree of uncertainty, of ambiguity, and of 
 apparent" disproportion in a revealed account 
 of things not hitherto known, surely it is not 
 reasonable to expect that the language shall 
 lead to inevitable tyranny or superstition. 
 
 B. Tyranny and superstition are very great 
 evils, but they are both the abuse of something 
 in itself not evil but good. Tyranny arises 
 from the possession of superior knowledge or 
 power by bad men : superstition springs from 
 an ignorant and blind adhesion to a distorted 
 idea. You would not condemn knowledge or 
 science, because men make use of them for their 
 ow^n ends : you would not call a law evil, be- 
 cause ignorant men, urged on by designing 
 men, misunderstood it. You would say that 
 the remedy for both was increased knowledge 
 and higher principles. 
 
 A. Exactly so ; and this is what Christianity 
 denies, that there can be increased knowledge 
 or higher principles than exist among Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 B. That some Christians say this, I readily 
 acknowledge ; but that it is the correct view of 
 revelation, or that the Christian Church as a 
 whole has countenanced it, I emphatically deny. 
 Indeed the Christian Church is often condemned 
 for the opposite fault. It is said that they are 
 
284 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 not content with revelation as it stands, but 
 found additional truths upon it ; and that even 
 Christian morality is progressive, is undoubted. 
 That we can improve upon the knowledge or 
 the morals of our Founder, we deny ; but that 
 the early Christians comprehended the whole 
 breadth and depth of His teaching, we do not 
 maintain for a moment. They were subject to 
 the opinions of their own times, and acquiesced 
 in many things which the spread of Christian 
 principles has rooted out. 
 
 A, Nevertheless, superstition and tyranny 
 have flourished in the Christian Church, and 
 that, by virtue of the language of the so-called 
 revelation. 
 
 B. This is unquestionable ; but that it should 
 be so, is only analogous to the course of events 
 in the world. If this had been impossible, if 
 every error of opinion had been at once extir- 
 pated, and every moral delinquency punished, 
 the system might have been more ideally com- 
 plete, but it would have contradicted the doc- 
 trines which it contains ; for it would have 
 allowed no scope for self-renovation and disci- 
 pline, which is of the very essence of the revela- 
 tion ; and so far from demonstrating that it 
 came from the Author of nature, it would have 
 been subject to the objection of setting the God 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 285 
 
 of nature and of revelation at variance with 
 Himself. 
 
 A. How so ? 
 
 i?. Because, if we reason from nature to 
 revelation, as more or less we do and must, we 
 should find no analogy between the two ; and 
 then men might easil}^ say either that nature 
 was evil or revelation false, because they did not 
 accord with one another. 
 
 A. Well, if w^e must expect these difficulties 
 in a revelation, surely we might anticipate that 
 it would be entrusted to proper men to ad- 
 minister it. I do not speak of the ordinary 
 administration of church affairs, but of the 
 strange story of miraculous gifts of language, 
 of interpretation, of healing, and the like, 
 being given to the early Christians, not in any 
 sort of order, but broadcast and indiscrimi- 
 nately ; so that the possessors of them misused 
 and abused them, and had no sound judgment 
 in the employment of them, but played with 
 them like children, seemingly unconscious that 
 they were a trust from God for the salvation of 
 mankind. 
 
 B. I will not stop to complain of your highly- 
 coloured picture of these disorders, but will 
 simply call your attention to a plain fiict. These 
 gifts or graces were supposed to be, and were, 
 
286 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 God's gifts. The possessors of them were con- 
 scious of their powers, and were able to employ 
 them as men employ gifts of memory and 
 genius. They had a certain control over them, 
 depending upon their will ; for these gifts were 
 not, like the possessions of which we read, 
 energies acting within them against their will. 
 If they had been thought to be such, the writer 
 of the Epistle to the Corinthians could not have 
 enjoined them to exercise a control over their 
 gifts. Such being the case^ these special gifts 
 have a certain analogy to gifts of genius and 
 memory. Have they not ? 
 
 A. Perhaps so. 
 
 B. Now let me ask you, do men possessing 
 these gifts always employ them with discretion ? 
 Do they not frequently misapply them and 
 abuse them ? 
 
 A. It is proverbial of them, I confess. 
 
 B, Why then should you find such a diffi- 
 culty in the indiscretions, and it may be ab- 
 surdities, into which these men ran ? You 
 have a parallel in the natural world, and there 
 it does not startle you. You do not find genius 
 of necessity united with discretion ; you do 
 not find the best men always possessed of the 
 greatest powers, or the men of greatest power 
 always the best men. 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 287 
 
 A. I shall not press this objection any 
 further, because I acknowledge a certain justice 
 in your reply. There can be no doubt that 
 men of genius frequently act with great indis- 
 cretion, and cause their own great gifts to 
 be thought lightly of. It does seem quite 
 possible, that moral excellence and discretion 
 may be wanting even in those who seem born 
 to improve mankind. But I have not ex- 
 hausted my list of difficulties. Perhaps the 
 one which I have now to urge, is the strongest 
 of all. It is a question upon which Christians 
 themselves seem utterly undecided, and yet, 
 before any man can embrace Christianity, he 
 may fairly demand to have it answered. 
 
 B. Pardon me for interrupting you ; but I 
 must interpose to say, that when you speak of 
 accepting Christianity as an intellectual system, 
 you are forgetting that its primary object is not 
 to satisfy the intellect, but to improve the heart ; 
 and to speak of demanding a proof of every 
 portion before you accept anj-thing, is like 
 refusing to act virtuously, because systems of 
 ethics are not logically consistent. 
 
 A. Well, now, 3'ou have unintentionally 
 anticipated m}^ objection. I was going to say 
 that, if Christianity is a rule of life, it ought 
 to be simple and easy to comprehend ; instead 
 
288 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 of which it is abstruse, and comprises all manner 
 of metaphysical questions, which are unintel- 
 ligible to the vast majority of men, and cer- 
 tainly of little use for practical purposes. 
 
 B. And if it be so, how does Christianity 
 differ from the ordinary practice of human life ? 
 In each, the general principles are clearly 
 defined ; plain people can walk by them ; but 
 if the reasons and causes of these principles are 
 to be sifted, the most acute intellects are 
 baffled in the inquiry. Examine any system 
 of ethics, and apply it to practice ; you will 
 find that difficulties present themselves at every 
 turn. Take, for example, the ordinary doctrine, 
 that the prime law of moral action is the 
 greatest good of the greatest numher, which is 
 undoubtedly true. Apply it to practice, and 
 you will see how immense are the difficulties 
 which present themselves. Individual interest 
 is to give way to general interest. Some are to 
 suffer that the whole may prosper ; but every 
 one feels that his own suffering, if inflicted 
 without consciousness of ill-desert, is an in- 
 justice ; and thus, practically, individual inte- 
 rest, if it do not appear inconsistent with the 
 general interest, asserts itself even in very 
 excellent men ; and yet, perhaps, these indi- 
 vidual interests are seen to be, in the long-run, 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 289 
 
 injurious to the well-being of the whole. I 
 onl}^ instance this, to show how hard it is to 
 ascertain great principles, even when the general 
 rules of action are clear enough. 
 
 A. But the especial object of Christianity 
 is to supply an unerring rule of right 
 action. 
 
 B. Yes ; but you forget that the reasons for 
 the rule lie deep in the constitution of things. 
 To discern them requires deep and mature 
 study ; it involves subtle questions as to the 
 nature of right and wrong. Any system, which 
 professed to abolish these investigations, would 
 stand condemned by being inadequate to human 
 nature. The Christian revelation does profess 
 to give rules of action, and to supply additional 
 knowledge upon the deepest truths ; but it 
 never professes to make men more than men ; 
 it never tells them that they can measure the 
 universe in the hollow of the hand, or that 
 they can comprehend the whole of God's nature. 
 If it did, it would abrogate the very idea of an 
 Infinite Being, because that which is infinite 
 cannot be measured. 
 
 A, So then the end of the Christian revela- 
 tion is to tell, us that reason is given us to no 
 purpose ? 
 
 B. Certainly not. Eeason is not deposed by 
 
290 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the Christian faith, but her sphere is defined 
 with greater clearness. 
 
 A, And, pray, what is left for her, if she can 
 neither determine absolutely v/hat is right or 
 wrong, nor judge whether the revelation to 
 which she is to bow, is good or evil ? And 
 how can she distinguish between the Moham- 
 medan and the Christian faith, if she is not 
 allowed to discriminate between what is true 
 and what is false ? 
 
 B. But have I said that she is not allowed 
 thus to discriminate ? Surely she can discern 
 whether the principles involved in these are 
 good or evil ; and she can judge of the evidence 
 for either, whether it is sufficient to establish 
 its object or not. 
 
 A. But how is this possible, if we are not 
 allowed to say, "This or that cannot have 
 come from God"? 
 
 B. But you are allowed to say so. If the 
 Christian revelation contains any plain immo- 
 ralities, any contradictions of the grand ^jr?Vi- 
 cipks of justice, then you can say at once that 
 your reason refuses to accept it. 
 
 A. I could supply you with a list of cruelties 
 practised in the name of God, and even of 
 direct commands, attributed to Him, to inflict 
 punishments, which, if you adhere to your 
 
Or>JECTIOKS TO CIIUISTIANITY. 291 
 
 concession, would justify me in rejecting the 
 revelation at once. 
 
 B. In so doing, you would of course bear in 
 mind, that a contradiction to a moral law 
 implies an injunction to practise immoral 
 habits. Individual commands, in themselves, are 
 not proof suScient of an abrogation of moral 
 laws. 
 
 A. Nov/ you are withdrawing your conces- 
 sion. 
 
 B. Not so ; but, for particular exceptions to 
 the law of mercy, there maybe sufficient reasons ; 
 whereas an injunction to be unmerciful would 
 at once condemn a religion. 
 
 A. Are there not abundant instances of the 
 encouragement of an unmerciful temper in the 
 Jewish Bible ? 
 
 B. I do not think that the tenour of the Old 
 Testament can be fairly reckoned to be unmer- 
 ciful. Certainly there are severe injunctions 
 contained in it, on the strength of which the 
 Jews may have encouraged a cruel disposition 
 in themselves. But it is by no means the same 
 thing, to be called upon to execute sentence 
 upon the wicked, and to be j-ourself cruel. 
 Otherwise judges must be accounted the most 
 cruel of all men, which is plainly not the case. 
 The execution of an established law by no means 
 
 T 2 
 
292 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 implies liarsimess or vindictiveness in those who 
 execute it ; and so the Israelites were instructed 
 b}^ God to be the means of punishing atrocious 
 criminals, yet they themselves were commanded 
 to practise mercy in a very high degree, a 
 degree far exceeding that in which these virtues 
 were practised by contemporary nations. It is, 
 indeed, impossible here to discuss all the ques- 
 tions connected with objections to the Old 
 Testament. But the essential point can be 
 succinctly stated. !No proof can be adduced of 
 the encouragement of a cruel, vindictive, or 
 unjust disjjosition : many proofs can be given 
 of the contrary. And the Christian revelation 
 (applying that word to the Scriptures of the 
 !New Testament) pre-eminently enforces lessons 
 of love, justice, and mercy. 
 
 A. This I confess ; but still it has not of 
 necessity produced a corresponding result. 
 Christians have been as unmerciful as heathens, 
 when the power of exercising severity has been 
 placed in their hands. 
 
 B. Possibly; but in so doing, they have gone 
 against not only the sjyirit, but also the letter 
 of their law ; and in so doing they have proved 
 themselves unworthy disciples of Christ : they 
 have not shown that the revelation enjoins, 
 or even permits, such acts. 
 
OBJECTIONS TO CHRISTIANITY. 293 
 
 A. But if the Christian revelation does not 
 countenance immoralities, it does not therefore 
 follow that it is Divine. We may be too hasty 
 in this respect. It may be a very high-toned 
 and useful code of morality ; and in conse- 
 quence of that, men may have too readily 
 accepted its declaration as to its Divine origin. 
 In fact the evidence upon which rests its claim 
 to be reckoned Divine seems to be insufficient ; 
 and on this point at least our reason may em- 
 ploy itself. 
 
 B. Undoubtedly ; but as this is quite a dis- 
 tinct question, and as our conversation has 
 extended over a very wide range of subjects, I 
 think it will be better to take this by itself, as 
 a matter for separate consideration. 
 
 A. I quite agree with you, and shall hope to 
 resume the question another time. 
 
294 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE lY. - 
 
 ON CHRISTIANITY AS A SCHEME IMPERFECTLY 
 COMPREHENDED. 
 
 A. You will remember tliat there was a point 
 on which we did not touch in discussing the 
 general objections to the Christian revelation, 
 or shall I recall to your mind the conclusion 
 of our last conversation ? 
 
 B. I recollect perfectly tha-t you stated that 
 you thought there were objections to Chris- 
 tianity, which the evidence on which it relied 
 was insufficient to balance or at all events to 
 outbalance. Was not this so ? 
 
 A. Well, perhaps, that is the form in which 
 I somewhat hastily stated w^hat had occurred to 
 my mind. I was rather perplexed with some 
 of your arguments. But all of them, as it 
 appeared to me, ignored a very essential, indeed 
 a vital, question. You had been labouring to 
 show that it was reasonable to expect, in a 
 Divine revelation, difficulties analogous to those 
 found in the ordinary course of nature. But 
 
CTimSTIANITY IMPERFECTLY COMPREHEIsDED. 295 
 
 such arguments in no degree proved that the 
 things objected to were in themselves right. 
 And your own concessions show that, if the 
 things objected to are in themselves wrong, 
 no analogy will alter their moral character and 
 make them right. If religion inculcates the 
 belief in moral faUeJioods and intellectual im- 
 2)ossibilitlcs, then religion is false, however 
 many analogies can be adduced to bolster up 
 the falsehoods. « 
 
 B. As far as we went last time, I only 
 endeavoured to prove that your instances were 
 not, as you seemed to assume, conclusive 
 against the truth of Christianity. 
 
 A. But that is very unsatisfactory. What I 
 wish to see is that Christianity is not only not 
 demonstrably /a/se, but also that it is demon- 
 strably true, Just in its principles and comjolete 
 in its evidence. If I see a man acting in a 
 manner which appears to me based on un- 
 righteous principles, I may be unable to prove 
 that he is a villain, but that is a very different 
 thing from being convinced of his goodness. 
 
 B. Let me recall to your mind a conversation 
 which we had not very long ago upon a kindred 
 subject. You will remember that in speaking 
 of the difficulties connected with the moral 
 government of the universe, we found that 
 
296 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 that government was a system of which we 
 knew some parts, but were not adequately 
 acquainted with the whole. It is a system in 
 which means are employed to produce results, 
 and it is regulated by general laws. If we 
 knew the whole intention of this system, we 
 might possibly comprehend every detail ; but, 
 inasmuch as we are acquainted with detached 
 portions of it, it is conceivable that the appa- 
 rent difficulties are t^ie results of our ignorance. 
 The general signs of goodness are an argument 
 that the ifhole is good ; and it may perhaps be 
 found, that increased knowledge would enable 
 us to connect the various isolated details, so as 
 to show, that the whole system is completely 
 pervaded by the spirit of goodness, justice, and 
 truth, which apparently regulate a part. 
 
 A. I perfectly recollect the conversation, but 
 it seems to me that it is of no assistance to us 
 here. 
 
 B, On what grounds do you so conclude ? 
 A. First, I do not know that Christianity is 
 
 a system such as you describe. I thought that 
 the whole truth was supposed to be therein 
 revealed. At least I am sure that many Chris- 
 tians speak and act, as if they have attained 
 the end of all moral knowledge in Christianity. 
 Secondly, I cannot understand that a dispensa* 
 
CHRISTIANITY IMPERFECTLY COIMPREHENDED. 297 
 
 tion based on exceptional miraculous interposi- 
 tions can be carried on by general laws. It 
 appears to be grounded on a suspension of 
 general laws. And, thirdly, I am dissatisfied 
 with the assumption, that the salvation of the 
 world requires to be effected by the slow appli- 
 cation of means to ends ; for if God wills the 
 salvation of men, surely His will might be far 
 more effectually performed, than by a tardy 
 process extending over thousands of years, and 
 attended by all sorts of disturbing circum- 
 stances. 
 
 B. If you were going to judge a sj^stem of 
 philosophy, would you not think it right to 
 begin with an examination of the principles on 
 which it professes to be based ? 
 
 A. Unquestionably I should. 
 
 B. And would it be fair to assume that it is 
 not what it professes to be ? 
 
 A. It would be most unfair to beg the ques- 
 tion thus. 
 
 B. And if some who held the system were 
 ignorant of what the system itself professed to 
 contain, would you be content, acting as a 
 philosopher and not as an advocate, to refute 
 their ignorance of their own system ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. 
 
 B, Well, then, let me beg you not to be 
 
298 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 misled by any incomplete notions of Chris- 
 tianity, but to accompany me to tbe fountain- 
 head of the whole, the revelation of the Bible. 
 
 A. Pray proceed; I am all attention. 
 
 B. Wow the Bible does assert that Chris- 
 tianity is a system. It implies that the moral 
 government of God is a system beyond our 
 comprehension, but yet one of which the even- 
 tual result is, that all creatures shall receive 
 according to their deserts ; and of this general 
 scheme, Christianity is a portion designed for 
 the completion of the providential government 
 of God. It tells us that, among other myste- 
 rious purposes of God, He has determined that 
 a Divine Person should come, "Who is to 
 gather together in one the children of God 
 that are scattered abroad'' (John si. 52), and 
 "establish an everlasting kingdom, wherein 
 dwelleth righteousness" (2 Peter iii. 13). It 
 tells us " that the Spirit of Christ, which was 
 in the Prophets, testified beforehand His suffer- 
 ings, and the glory that should follow; unto 
 whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, 
 but unto us they did minister the things that 
 are now reported unto us by them that have 
 preached the Gospel : which things the angels 
 desire to look into" (1 Peter i. 11, 12). It 
 thus speaks of a continual preparation for the 
 
CHRTSTiANiTY i:\rpERFECTLY co:mpeehended. 299 
 
 Gospel, which should at length be preached. 
 After a certain time, it continues — " In the 
 fulness of time," Eternal Wisdom, *^being in the 
 form of God, made Himself of no reputation and 
 took upon Him the form of a servant ; and being 
 found in fashion as a man. He humbled Himself 
 and became obedient unto death, even the death 
 of the Cross ; wherefore God also hath highly 
 exalted Him, and given Him a name, which is 
 above every name : that at the name of Jesus 
 every knee should bow, of things in Heaven, and 
 things in earth, and things under the earth ; and 
 that every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ 
 is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." 
 Another part of this Divine Economy was the 
 miraculous mission of the Holy Ghost, and His 
 ordinary assistance to good men. Then we are 
 told of the invisible government of Christ over 
 His Church, and of His return to judge the world 
 in righteousness. " All power is given unto 
 Him in heaven and in earth " (Matt, xxviii. 18). 
 ''He must reign till He hath put all things 
 under His feet." " Then cometh the end, when 
 He shall have delivered up the kingdom to 
 God, even the Eather ; when He shall have 
 put dovrn all rule and all authority and power. 
 And when all things shall be subdued unto 
 Him, then shall the Son also Himself be subject 
 
300 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 unto Hira that put all things under Him^ that 
 God may be all in all'' (1 Cor. xv. 28). Now I 
 am not concerned to enter into all the details 
 and the meaning of the scheme here portrayed. 
 What I wish to show you is that, whether the 
 system is true or false, it is surely unjust to say 
 that, in the face of all this, Christianity is not 
 a system. 
 
 A. Surely, according to 3'our description, it 
 is a most elaborate and perplexing one. The 
 things here spoken of sound like the visions of 
 a dreamer. 
 
 B. I forgive you the remark, in virtue of 
 tne unwilling concession, that it is beyond our 
 present powers of comprehension. I will only 
 pause to say, that the details here gathered 
 from portions of the Scripture seem to imply 
 much more than is expressed. It is incompre- 
 hensible, in the sense that we cannot grasp the 
 whole. 
 
 A. But how do you employ this for your 
 argument ? 
 
 B. I think it is a sufficient answer to your 
 first point, that you do not think Christianity 
 to be a sj^stem imperfectly comprehended. If 
 you will take the trouble to examine the pas- 
 sages here brought together, you cannot fail to 
 be struck with the number of questions which 
 
CHRISTIANITY IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 301 
 
 are at once opened in all directions. You will 
 see that, like the system of nature, Christianity, 
 if true, involves a vast amount of considerations 
 on subjects beyond the grasp of our faculties. 
 And if our ignorance of nature may be justly 
 adduced as a reply to difficulties in nature, so 
 our ignorance of the whole scope of the Chris- 
 tian dispensation may be fitly produced as a 
 reply to difficulties connected with that dispen- 
 sation. 
 
 A. But how, then, is Christianity a revela- 
 tion at all, if it leaves so many things unre- 
 vealed ? 
 
 B. In the same sense that anything else 
 is a revelation. It is the withdrawing of 
 the veil from certain things, hidden before, 
 but not the opening up of all the mysteries of 
 creation. 
 
 A. Well, even granting this, it seems to me 
 that your further argument from analogy will 
 be stopped by the consideration, that Christianity 
 does not profess to work by general laws. 
 
 B. On what grounds do you assert that ? 
 
 A. Why, in the first place, it commences by 
 a stoppage of nature's general laws. 
 
 B. How do you know that the miraculous 
 interposition is not part of the general system 
 of nature ? May it not have been the intention 
 
302 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 of the Creator, that an additional force or forces 
 should be brought into play for a special pur- 
 pose, at a particular time ? How do you know 
 that the whole may not have been foreordained 
 by the Providence of God from eternity ? 
 
 A. Because then it would not be a miracle. 
 
 B. That answer will not serve you, because 
 we have already agreed that what is miraculous 
 to man may be only a portion of the Divine 
 plan. It is as if, once in the course of ages, a 
 planet in its orbit comes in proximity to a comet, 
 which then passes away into space. The effect 
 is produced once for all, but both planet and 
 comet are subject to general laws. 
 
 A. But is there one atom of proof of such a 
 fanciful analogy? Is there anything in the 
 natural world to compare with the introduction 
 of Christianity ? 
 
 B. Possibly not; but there is something 
 which may explain how we come to regard 
 some things as dependent on general laws, 
 which in themselves appear to be utterly 
 capricious. 
 
 A. Of what do you speak ? 
 
 B. Tell me, on what principle do you infer 
 that nature, I mean physical nature, works by 
 general laws ? 
 
 ^. By an induction from experience, to be 
 
CHRISTIA^'ITY IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 303 
 
 sure. I see that tiie same results follow con- 
 stantly from the same antecedents, in a vast 
 number of cases, which daily present them- 
 selves. "VVe have gained a knowledge of several 
 laws of matter, and we know also that living 
 agents act very much by general laws. 
 
 B. Very well ; I quite agree with you. Tell 
 me ; do storms, earthquakes, famine, and pesti- 
 lence destroy mankind by general laws ? 
 
 A. Of course they do. 
 
 B. That you haev learned by continued 
 induction. 
 
 A. iN"© ; we have not yet been able to learn 
 the laws of the progress of these unusual 
 phenomena. But they must be by general 
 laws, otherwise nature would not be uniform. 
 
 B. And is it a fixed law, which causes people, 
 born at such and such a date, to be of such and 
 such a temper and capacity: are those laws 
 fi:sed by which thoughts come into men's 
 mind ? Are all the unexpected events upon 
 which the history of the world hinges, also 
 subject to fixed laws ? 
 
 A. Most assuredly. 
 
 B. I quite agree to this, too. There is no 
 such thing as chance or accident. Everything 
 is, however little it appear to us to be so, the 
 result of fixed laws. But what I ask you to 
 
304 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 observe is, that our belief in this fixity of law 
 is by no means tbe result of an adequate induc- 
 tion in many cases. Where we cannot trace 
 the appearance of law, we assume it from the 
 apparent uniformity of nature. 
 
 A. I admit that. 
 
 B. Why, then, may we not assume that 
 God's miraculous interpositions are also by fixed 
 and general laws ? 
 
 A. I don't understand. 
 
 B. Why should we not say that God, for 
 special purposes unknown to us, has so deter- 
 mined that at a certain period fresh forces 
 should be brought into play, and that they 
 should cease to operate as soon as the purposes 
 were accomplished, much in the same way that 
 a great military genius arises for a time, and 
 changes the whole course of history and then 
 disappears, leaving the ordinary laws to operate 
 as before. 
 
 A. But what would such a concession prove ? 
 
 B. It would show that the progress of Chris- 
 tianity was by general laws, and that there was 
 no need to expect a constant and sustained inter- 
 vention of fresh forces to meet every transient 
 difficulty. And this, you will observe, is the 
 objection which is so often raised against Chris- 
 tianity. Its miracles have ceased, and therefore 
 
CHRISTIANITY IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 305 
 
 men refuse to believe that it ever had any to 
 show, 
 
 A. But pardon me for saying, that this argu- 
 ment does not meet my original objection, that 
 moral difficulties in Christianity remain such in 
 spite of analogy. 
 
 B. That, I thought, was answered already. 
 If Christianity is a scheme beyond our compre- 
 hension, if in it means are emploj^ed to produce 
 ends, and if it is carried on by general laws, 
 wh}^ then it is analogous to the moral govern- 
 ment of the universe ; and the moral govern- 
 ment of the universe contains difficulties and 
 irregularities. What is more reasonable than 
 to expect similar ones in the scheme of Chris- 
 tianity ? 
 
 A. But you have been speaking of means 
 being employed to produce ends. By this, I 
 suppose, you denote the various preliminary 
 dispensations of which the Christian is sup- 
 posed to be the culmination. What an intricate 
 and elaborate plan this appears to be, and how 
 utterly injurious is it to the dignity of an all- 
 powerful God, to be compelled to employ means 
 to effect His purposes. 
 
 B. That God employs what we call means, 
 is one thing ; that He is compelled to employ 
 them is c^uite another. Perhaps the good 
 
306 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 resulting from the use of means is greater tlian 
 we are able to judge. But be this as it may, 
 your argument will prove too mucli. If the 
 use of means is a refutation of the scbeme of 
 Christianity, so also is it a refutation of the 
 scheme of nature. Human life is exactly 
 analogous to Christianity in this; so, too, is 
 the vegetable kingdom. The history of the 
 ripening of the fruits, of the opening of a 
 flower, the very changes of the seasons, wiU 
 answer your objection, or render it fatal to the 
 idea of a God. In nature growth is progressive : 
 the development of reason is progressive ; the 
 character of a man is the result of a long series 
 of antecedent circumstances. Infancy is a pre- 
 paration for childhood ; childhood for bo5^hood ; 
 boyhood for mature manhood. Thus every- 
 where we see the slow, deliberate maturing of a 
 plan in the events of nature. And it is not 
 unreasonable ; on the contrary, it is most natural 
 for Christianity to present itself as the mature 
 develojoment of a scheme, which, through pro- 
 gressive stages, has been carried on from the 
 earliest times till now. 
 
 A. It is, I acknowledge, something gained 
 in our inquiry to learn that Christianity pre- 
 sents itself as a progressive system. But I 
 wish to learn something concerning the details 
 
CHRISTIANITY IMPERFECTLY COMPREHENDED. 307 
 
 of that system. Your answers to my difficulties, 
 taken en masse, are to some degree convincing. 
 But what I fear is, that the details will be found 
 inconsistent with the analogy of nature. Are 
 you prepared to find a parallel for every minute 
 particular which perplexes the inquirer ? 
 
 B. It is, perhaps, too bold to say that I can 
 do so ; but I think in many cases surprising 
 resemblances may be traced between the prin- 
 ciples of the Christian religion and the general 
 phenomena of the moral universe. 
 
 A. With that assurance I will ask your per- 
 mission to close this conversation. Be assured 
 that next time I shall come with an array of 
 questions, which will tax your ingenuity to the 
 uttermost to meet. 
 
 B. I will try my best to assist you, for I do 
 not forget your assurance, that you feel no 
 positive dislike to Christianity. 
 
 A. Indeed, no ; I should only feel too 
 grateful, if a religion which promises such 
 unutterable blessings, should be found such 
 that a man who tries to discover the truth is 
 not compelled, by the weight of the objections, 
 to forego the happiness which Christians pro- 
 fess and appear to enjoy. 
 
 u 2 
 
308 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 DIALOGUE Y. 
 
 ON THE APPOINTMENT OF A REDEEMER AND 
 MEDIATOR. 
 
 A. It appears to me that we have now- 
 reached a critical stage in our investigations, 
 ujDon which much that has gone before, and all 
 that is to follow, must depend. You have shown 
 me that Christianit}^, as conceived by you, is a 
 system consisting of various mutually-related 
 parts. In this sj^stem, vf e are made, acquainted 
 only with certain portions; the scoped of the 
 whole is not known to us. As in the system of 
 nature, so in that of Christianity, much is left 
 unrevealed ; and in consequence we are com- 
 pelled to acknowledge, that the existence of 
 difficulties and objections is, if not what we 
 ought to expect, at least not a refutation of the 
 whole. However, there are portions more fully 
 revealed than others, and these we are at liberty 
 to examine by the light of our moral nature. 
 If they are absolutely contradictor}^ to truth 
 and goodness, then we may reject them. 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 309 
 
 B. I can only take exception to one part of 
 what you have said : we have established our 
 conclusions at present, each on independent 
 grounds. If what you are now going to object 
 to shall prove to be really objectionable, future 
 argument may be precluded; but you ought 
 not to argue backwards, and deny what you 
 have previously assented to, in virtue of a 
 point which we fail to establish on independent 
 grounds. 
 
 A. I shall not dispute your position, because 
 you will readily see that the point now at issue 
 is simply the central doctrine of Christianity. 
 If we reject that, aU the rest is valueless. 
 
 B. What is the matter to which you are 
 referring ? 
 
 A. The doctrine of a Mediator between God 
 and man. It appears to me to be simply 
 preposterous. 
 
 B. What do you understand by a Mediator ? 
 
 A. I understand the w^ord according to its 
 etymology, one who stands between. 
 
 B. You object, then, to the whole idea of any 
 one intervening between God and man, so as to 
 be the means by which God communicates the 
 knowledge of Himself and the possession of 
 His blessings. 
 
 A. I do. 
 
310 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 B. But surely you have not considered that 
 in nature nothing is more common than this. 
 
 A. How do you make that out ? 
 
 B. Is life one of God's gifts ? 
 
 A. I apprehend it is so. 
 
 B. Do we not receive the gift of life through 
 the instrumentality of others? Are not our 
 parents the means by which we are made? 
 Surely this is a case in point. We know of no 
 other way by which we could exist, except by 
 their intervention. 
 
 A, That is quite true. 
 
 B. And do we not, as children, have our 
 sustenance, our protection from danger, our 
 education, and the means of attaining manhood 
 by means of others ? And when we are men, 
 are we not constantly beholden to others for 
 every kind of blessing? If this is all your 
 difficulty, I think you need scarcely be in haste 
 to reject Christianity. 
 
 A. But on reflection, I see it is not all my 
 difficulty. The Christian notion of a Mediator 
 involves much more than this. 
 
 B. It certainly does. 
 
 A. So far as you have gone, you have spoken 
 only of bodily intervention. But the idea of 
 an intervention between God and the soul is 
 what perplexes me ; for the very idea of the 
 
* A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 311 
 
 soul is that it is a spiritual essence, capable of 
 holding communion with God ; whereas the 
 body is only animate matter, and incapq-ble in 
 itself of communion with its Maker. Now that 
 the physical gifts of God may be ministered to 
 this material body by means of material agents 
 is one thing, but for the soul to require an 
 intervening agent between it and God is quite 
 another. 
 
 B. You must not overlook the fact that our 
 instruction in morality, our knowledge of God, 
 so far as that is aided or increased by the 
 instrumentality of others, is an instance of the 
 intervention of a Spirit between our soul and 
 the God of all spirits. Every 7noral influence 
 which is imparted by others, is distinctly a 
 spiritual agency, and not ph3^sicaland material. 
 
 A. I am bound to confess that my objection 
 was somewhat hasty ; but yet you will confess 
 that all these notions are of minor value, when 
 compared with the idea of a Mediator through 
 Whom alone we can have access to God ; for in 
 this idea is implied that the Creator has sepa- 
 rated Himself from the creatures whom He made 
 to serve Him. To suppose that God has given 
 us a soul to serve Ilim, and that that soul cannot 
 do that for which it was created, seems very 
 like a contradiction. 
 
312 DIALOG up: on 
 
 B. I think 5^011 do not quite realize the 
 Christian idea of a Mediator. That idea is, that 
 throuofh a Mediator we are able to take hold of 
 God's mercy and pardon. 
 
 A. But that notion is stranger than all. 
 Why should we not be able to obtain God's 
 forgiveness, when we need it, for ourselves ? 
 
 B. Let us consider the course of nature. 
 You have admitted, I think, and will not with- 
 draw your admission, that there are signs in 
 the natural world of the assignment of rewards 
 and punishments. 
 
 A. I admit it fully. 
 
 B. And those rewards and punishments 
 follow, in the way of nature, as consequences 
 of actions. I mean that poverty^ sickness, 
 infamy, untimely death from disease, and the 
 like, though they follow by natural consequence 
 upon vicious actions, are still punishments. 
 
 A. I think so. 
 
 B. Now there is no absurdity in supposing, 
 as indeed jom have already conceded, that 
 future punishment follows upon determined 
 vice and wrong-doing naturally and inevi- 
 tahlij, just as a man who trifles on the edge 
 of a precipice, in the way of natural conse- 
 quence falls down, breaks his limbs, and, with- 
 out help, perishes. 
 
A REDEEMER AST) MEDIATOR. 313 
 
 A. Indeed, I think that the only rational 
 notion which we can form of future punish- 
 ment is, that it is not an arbitrary decree of 
 God, but the natural consequence of our 
 actions, arising out of the permanent and 
 complete degradation from virtue, which the 
 JiahUual practice of vice has brought about. 
 
 B. This being so, let me point out to you 
 certain facts, which may assist us in the present 
 emergency. According to the course of nature, 
 certain evil consequences will probably, and do 
 generally, follow our misconduct. We are 
 punished for it. This is a general law at all 
 events; but as a matter of fact, all the e\dl 
 consequences do not always follow. The Author 
 of nature has provided remedies and means of 
 alleviation for the punishments which would 
 otherwise have followed upon our evil actions. 
 These reliefs and remedies are attended often 
 with pains and difficulties. Persons may do a 
 great deal towards remedying the evil which 
 they have done, and towards gaining relief 
 from the sufferings which they undergo. Is 
 not this so ? 
 
 A. Pardon me for saying, that you have 
 asserted so many things in a brief compass, 
 that I really am quite unable to give or refuse 
 my assent to what you have said. ATould you 
 
314 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 object to stating jouv assertions separately, so 
 tliat I may be assured that there is nothing to 
 which I shall afterwards have to except. 
 
 B. I ask your pardon for having, even in 
 appearance, mixed up different assertions in 
 one sentence, so as to entrap you into unwary 
 admissions. But to state them distinctly, you 
 are, I think, willing to acknowledge that the 
 idea of future punishment following upon 
 present wickedness, hf/ iccnj of natural conse- 
 quence, is not unreasonable ? 
 
 A. So far I assent. 
 
 B. And if this be the case, we have a basis 
 on which to found an argument with respect to 
 future punishment. 
 
 A. At least we have some kind of an analogy. 
 
 B. I do not ask you to press it to the utmost 
 limit, but only to observe certain facts, arising 
 from' the comparison of natural events with 
 the supposed consequences of deliberate and 
 determined vice. Do you consider that the 
 natural consequences of vice invariably follow, 
 and in a degree proportioned to the amount 
 of vice ? 
 
 A. Assuredly not ; the smallest experience 
 will prove that this is not so. 
 
 B. And would you argue from this that such 
 consequences are not natural ? 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 315 
 
 A. 'No ; I should say that tliey are natural, 
 but in some degree preventible. 
 
 B. And I presume you would mean that, 
 if not prevented, they would be sure to follow ? 
 
 A. Of course ; but why do you ask ? 
 
 B, Because many people assert that the 
 absence of invariable sequence in these matters 
 is a disproof of a universal or general law. I 
 mean, that if, in the majority of cases, certain 
 consequences follow certain actions, but amidst 
 the millions of instances in the world many 
 exceptions are found, it is argued that there 
 can be no general law of sequence. 
 
 A. They who draw such an inference, can 
 hardly be aware of the immense appearance of 
 irregularity in inanimate nature. In many 
 departments of physics calculations are baffled 
 by reason of exceptions ; and yet to assert 
 that there is no general law regulating the 
 phenomena of meteorology (for example) 
 would be unscientific to the last degree. 
 
 B. Then you would not consider exceptions 
 to the general consequences of moral actions 
 as a disproof of the law of connexion between 
 actions and their results ? 
 
 A. Clearly not. 
 
 B. So that we may fairly reckon this first 
 position established, that there is nothing 
 
316 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 unreasonable in conceiving future punishment 
 attached to present wickedness as a natural 
 consequence. 
 
 A. I will concede the supposition. 
 
 B. 'Now consider this. We have said that, 
 in regard to the present life, experience proves 
 that the natural consequences of actions do 
 not invariably follow. How are they pre- 
 vented ? 
 
 A. By the intervention of other laws, I 
 suppose. 
 
 B. I do not think you would be satisfied 
 with that answer in my mouth. To make the 
 question and reply clear, let us take the 
 instance of a man walking on the edge of a 
 precipice, and slipping or becoming giddy. 
 The consequence, of course, is that he will fall 
 over. But would this invariably follow ? 
 
 A. Why, no. He might, perhaps, save 
 himself from falling, or another might come 
 opportunely to his aid. 
 
 B. And to proceed with the instance ; if he 
 fell and broke a limb, would it naturally follow 
 that he would perish ? 
 
 A. If no one came to his aid, he would. But 
 the ultimate consequence of his temerity might 
 be prevented by timely help. 
 
 B. I dare say you think this illustration 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 317 
 
 somewhat childisli, but it has a point ia it. 
 You will see, in the first place, that in such a 
 case the consequences of our actions may be 
 prevented wholly or in part ; some portion of 
 the evil result may be prevented, either by 
 ourselves or by the aid of others ; and, secondly, 
 you will perceive, that there is such a thing as 
 our safety or recovery being efiected wholly by 
 the instrumentality of others. 
 
 A. But surely this instance is not to the 
 point. You are pressing analogy to a perilous 
 length, when you illustrate the consequences of 
 moral iniquity by purely physical instances. 
 The very essence of vice is purpose and in- 
 tention, and in this case there is no shadow of 
 moral causation. 
 
 B. I wish you to regard it only as a parable, 
 if you choose to call it so ; it is an illustration 
 of the kind of reasoning which I am employing, 
 not an instance of moral action. But let us 
 now turn to the consequences of moral actions. 
 It is plain that the consequences of vice are 
 such as we have above described them — disease, 
 disgrace, ruin, and sometimes death. In some 
 degree or other, these consequences will follow, 
 unless prevented ; nevertheless these conse- 
 quences are sometimes prevented, partly by 
 our o^ATDL exertions, partly by the aid of others. 
 
318 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 On the whole, -vvhen our faults have been light, 
 the rule is that we ourselves may clo much 
 towards averting the natural results: in pro- 
 portion as they increase in intensity, our power 
 to remedy them is less ; however, in a greater 
 or less degree the power is put into our hands 
 of extricating ourselves, or employing the aid 
 of others to assist us in extricating ourselves, 
 from the bad consequences of our actions. Does 
 not this appear to be the ordinance of nature ? 
 
 A. It appears so. 
 
 B. There are, then, signs in the natural 
 world of severity and also of compassion, sup- 
 posing the moral universe to be the work of a 
 personal God? 
 
 A. This I acknowledge. 
 
 B. Might we not, then, argue that in our 
 highest relations to an eternal life and an 
 all-just God, which constitute the sphere of 
 religion, we might expect to find a similar 
 constitution of things existing ? Should we not 
 expect that an escape from the evil conse- 
 quences of our actions might be offered ? 
 
 A. Certainly we should ; but, in all this, you 
 do not touch upon the question of a Mediator. 
 
 J5. No ; because we have not yet reached that 
 stage in the argument : still we have a kind of 
 foreshadowing? of it in the faat that we are 
 
A REDEEMER AKD MEDIATOR. 319 
 
 dependent on the instrumentality of others for 
 relief from the results of our actions. Up to a 
 certain point we are, at least in a degree, able 
 to rescue ourselves ; but it is plain that this is 
 not always possible. Do you not allow so much? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. But now it is necessary to introduce 
 another element into our calculations. If there 
 is anything at all in religion, it is abundantly 
 plain, that in relation to an all-pure Being our 
 condition is very different from what it is, 
 viewed only in relation to the present life and 
 to our fellow-men. It is not a question peculiar 
 to the Christian religion. All thoughtful men 
 in all ages confess, that they fall very far below 
 their own ideal standard of perfection; but 
 beyond this, they acknowledge that not only 
 are they deficient, they are actually offenders 
 against the moral standard which they are forced 
 to recognize ; they have been the cause of con- 
 fusion and misery in God's universe. Mankind, 
 as a rule, contemn God's authority, and infringe 
 His laws ; they are injurious, in a high degree, 
 to their fellow- creatures, who are also God's 
 creatures. In short, the moral fact of the 
 existence of sin in the world is undeniable. I 
 am not now speaking of the Christian repre- 
 sentation of the nature of sin, but simply of the 
 
320 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 appearance which, it presented to thouglitful 
 men, before the Christian faith was promulgated. 
 The existence of moral evil among mankind 
 you will not, I presume, dispute. 
 
 A. I should be blind to do so ; nay more, 
 were it not for a consciousness of it in myself, 
 I know not why I should be engaged in these 
 discussions. Ko one can live in the world, 
 without perceiving that moral evil is the most 
 potent influence and the most tremendous fact 
 in the whole universe, defying all the best 
 endeavours of mankind to extirpate it. 
 
 B. But if this be so, and if, even in the 
 present world, the efiects of vice are con- 
 fessedly extreme misery, irretrievable ruin, 
 and even death, have we not reason to appre- 
 hend that, in relation to a future life, its 
 consequences may be infinitely more awful 
 than they are at present ? 
 
 A. Analogy seems to point that way. 
 
 B. And might we not presume that, if the 
 severe laws of nature were intensified in pro- 
 portion to the enormous increase of the guilt 
 of sin, viewed as an ofience against a moral 
 God, nothing that we could do could prevent 
 the punishment of sin ? Might we not become 
 hopeless, under the influence of our experi- 
 ence of the ordinary course of nature ? 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 321 
 
 A. Your conclusion, however painful, appears 
 to be only just ; so much so, that it has often 
 struck me, that the only safeguard against 
 despair or recklessness is to avoid the question 
 altogether, and to reflect only upon matters 
 of present interest. The relation of man to 
 God, viewed in connexion with the great 
 prevalence of moral evil among mankind, 
 always appears to me a question of so hope- 
 less a character^ that no investigation will 
 clear it, and no advantage can come from it. 
 I am sensible that, from an advocate's point 
 of view, such a confession is most imprudent ; 
 but I am not pleading a cause, I am seeking 
 for truth. I am quite unable to agree with 
 those who regard moral evil as only a falling 
 short of ideal perfection. The grosser vices 
 which disgrace civilization are to me positive 
 evils, not simply the negation of good; and 
 so also the more refined faults or sins, — to 
 which those who are not gross offenders are 
 exposed (I mean all those faults which lurk 
 under the veil of decent outward behaviour), — 
 appear to me to be positive evils. Without 
 re-echoing hyperbolical expressions about " the 
 whole world lying in wickedness," I cannot 
 close my eyes to the fact, that, viewed in 
 relation to an all-holy Being, the vast ma- 
 
 X 
 
322 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 jority of mankind are in a lamentable condi- 
 tion. 
 
 B. I thank you for your candid admissions, 
 because tbey are an indication of tbat love of 
 truth wbicb characterizes all your conduct. 
 Now tell me, do you think that any thing 
 which men could do, would suffice to recover 
 them from their loroneness to sin and to make 
 them holy ? 
 
 A. I consider that sorrow and amendment 
 ought, in all justice, to procure pardon for sin. 
 
 B. Let us return to the course of nature. 
 You have, in your experience, known persons 
 who have ruined their fortunes by extrava- 
 gance, who have brought diseases upon them- 
 selves by excess, and have incurred the penalties 
 of the laws of their country by disregard to the 
 well-being of society. Will sorrow and amend- 
 ment of life always restore them to the condition 
 in which they were before such actions ? 
 
 A. Not always, I confess. 
 
 B. Moreover do not the acts themselves, or 
 the habits from which they spring, tend to 
 impair the natural powers of recovery ? 
 
 ^. I am bound to confess that they do. 
 
 B. And are not men compelled to make use 
 of the assistance of others, to aid them in 
 repairing the injury done to themselves, 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 323 
 
 whereas, except for their ill conduct, tliey 
 would have had no need of seeking such 
 assistance ? 
 
 A. That, too, is true. 
 
 JB. Now I argue from this, that we are not 
 unreasonable in accepting the teaching of 
 Christianity, that in our higher relation to an 
 eternal existence we have need of something 
 similar. Sin, by its very nature, tends to 
 incapacitate us from recovery by our own 
 unassisted efforts : the consequences of sin may 
 follow if unprevented, and the prevention of 
 them may only be possible by the aid of others. 
 Observe, however, that I do not say that 
 repentance and amendment are of no value ; 
 but that, in and hy themselves^ they may not 
 be sufficient. 
 
 A. Such reasoning does seem to have a show 
 of truth. 
 
 B. Moreover the natural instincts of man- 
 kind have led them to the conclusion that 
 human repentance is not all-sufficient for for- 
 giveness ; for in the heathen world, the idea of 
 propitiatory sacrifices was very prevalent. And 
 though the exact value attached to these 
 sacrifices is not known, nor perhaps could 
 have been declared by the heathens them- 
 selves, this is rather an argument in favour 
 
 X 2 
 
324 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 of my views, because it points to the existence 
 of a natural belief, that something more than 
 mere repentance was necessary to restore the 
 equipoise of man's moral nature. 
 
 A. This seems to me to be a really valuable 
 argument, because it is not based upon ct 
 posteriori views derived from Christianity. It 
 is very difficult in dealing with arguments, 
 which are drawn from the natural feelings 
 of mankind in these our later days, to dis- 
 tinguish what is natural and original from 
 what is the result of Jewish and Christian 
 ideas, which have as it were become ingrained 
 into the nature of all nations who have had 
 acquaintance with those systems of religion. 
 The idea of p)^^02)itiation, whatever else it may 
 signify, seems to point to a natural feeling, 
 that sin is something more than mere incom- 
 2Meness : still I am far from accepting this 
 alone as a demonstration that we need a pro- 
 pitiation. 
 
 B. It would, indeed, be most absurd to 
 regard it as a demonstration. It is, in fact, 
 only one thing among many which will build 
 up a probable argument ; and, so far as I have 
 used it, I have only applied it to show that the 
 idea of mediation is not unnatural. It is an 
 evidence that Christianitv did not invent the 
 
A REDEEMER A^'D MEDIATOR. 620 
 
 notion, that repentance is not enough to atone 
 for sin, but that it existed before Christianit}^, 
 and so far as we can judge, independently of 
 Jewish influences. 
 
 A. Let it, then, stand for what it is worth. 
 I do not like arguing from the infancy of the 
 world to its matured state ; but still, if there 
 are any innate propensions or natural incli- 
 nations of men, they ought to be allowed to 
 take their place in such an investigation as 
 this. 
 
 B. Now to proceed. Suppose that we had 
 arrived at this stage of our argument without 
 revelation, and had seen that the laws of the 
 universe are, though severe, yet not without 
 signs of compassion ; that the consequences 
 which should follow from our actions, are some- 
 times prevented by the intervention of other 
 persons ; that repentance or sorrow for our 
 errors, genuine sorrow arising from the feeling 
 that we have morally erred, is not always 
 enough to reinstate us in our previous position. 
 Suppose, also, that we had learned to regard, 
 with many of the ancients, our present exist- 
 ence as most imperfect, and not only imperfect, 
 but such as is described by the Latin poet in the 
 words, "I see and approve the better part, but I 
 pursue the worse ;'* a state in which our passions 
 
326 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 constantly subdue and hold prisoner tLe sense of 
 right. And suppose that, at this stage of our 
 inquiry, we came upon the Bible. What should 
 we find its language to be ? It represents man 
 in a fallen condition, with capacities for good 
 overlaid and overpowered, it matters not how, 
 by passions and inclinations to evil : it asserts 
 that the consequences of our sins will surely 
 follow, if not prevented ; that to repent is 
 indeed necessary to forgiveness ; but that we 
 are not able, of our own strength, to feel 
 sorrow in that degree which the nature of our 
 sins demands ; that we need Divine assistance 
 and supernatural strengthening to work out 
 our own salvation ; and that God must, in 
 some supernatural wa}^, work in us and for 
 us, to enable us to attain to that condition 
 of repentance and that purity of heart which 
 alone He will accept. 
 
 A. Are you not softening down some of the 
 features of the Christian revelation, to which 
 you refer ? I should like to hear some of the 
 grounds on which you state this as the smn. 
 of the Christian revelation. 
 
 B. Pardon me, I am only stating, in general 
 terms, the analogy between revelation and 
 nature. I have said that we cannot expect 
 to find particular analogies for every minute 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 327 
 
 detail. If tlicre are some things wMcli seem, 
 hard to accept in Christianity, remember that 
 there are things almost equally hard to receive 
 in the moral government of the universe. But 
 in answer to your immediate question, I will 
 adduce the salient and central passage round 
 which almost the whole of the distinctive faith 
 of Christians groups itself ; " God so loved the 
 world, that He gave His only begotten Son, to 
 the end that whosoever belie veth in Him (in such 
 a way as to do what He enjoins, and to follow 
 His steps), should have everlasting life.'' 
 
 A. I see you introduce a parenthetical expla- 
 nation of the word belief into your account. 
 
 B. I do so to obviate your possible difficulty, 
 that my previous account of what is required 
 of Christians scarcely tallies with the condition 
 here introduced. It does not belong to our 
 present inquiry to speak of what Christian faith 
 is, but the whole tenour of the Gospel is to repre- 
 sent it as a practical habit of mind. 
 
 A. Pardon my interruption. Pray continue 
 your account of what you consider to be the 
 Christian notion of mediation. 
 
 B. It appears to me, that the Christian reli- 
 gion falls in with the experience of mankind, 
 at least to this extent, that it represents God 
 as ruling the world by fixed laws of justice. 
 
328 DIALOGTE OX 
 
 and yet giving evidence of His compassionate 
 tenderness for His creatures. In both spheres 
 man is a free agent ; as a free agent he has 
 sinned ; by hereditary transmission or otherwise, 
 this tendency to sin has become a general law, 
 drawing men away from goodness and depriving 
 them of much of the power which naturally 
 (using the word to signify by Divine appoint- 
 ment) belongs to them. The cc^nsequence 
 should be that men would be punished. But 
 yet God gives to them assistance by which, in 
 conjunction with their own eflforts, they may 
 be relieved from the consequences of their sins. 
 For you should observe that Christ represents 
 Himself as sent by the Father. The very name 
 Christ, or Messiah, the Anointed, implies the 
 setting apart by God for a purpose. That 
 purpose is a compassionate one — to enable men 
 to escape misery and acquire happiness. Is 
 there anything to complain of in such an idea 
 of God's government of the world ? 
 
 A. Why, yes ; it represents God as incon- 
 sistent with Himself. Surely either He ought 
 to inflict upon men what they deserve, or to 
 pardon them for their transgressions. It seems 
 to be a poor and strange compromise between 
 justice and goodness, that God should interfere 
 with His own decrees. 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 329 
 
 B. No more strange than that He should 
 enable us to escape the consequences of our 
 actions, by means supplied by Him. Justice 
 and compassion do appear to be conflicting 
 laws ; but as they are found in one sphere of 
 existence, we ought not to complain that they 
 are to be traced in another. If His goodness 
 supplies us with friends to assist us in less im- 
 portant matters, why should we find a difi&culty 
 in the idea that, in matters infinitely more 
 important. He should send us a Friend, Whose 
 good offices transcend those of any earthly 
 friend as much as the concerns of eternity 
 transcend those of the present time ? 
 
 A. But surely, according to the Christian 
 idea, the manner in which we receive aid from 
 Christ, is in no degree comparable with that in 
 which we receive it from our fellow-men. 
 
 B. Doubtless there are phases of Christ's 
 mediatorial office, with which nothing earthly 
 can compare. Still to some extent a compari- 
 son may be established. 
 
 A. Will you specify the similarity ? 
 
 B. Have not many epochs in the history of 
 the world been marked by the appearance of 
 teachers who have declared to men, in a new 
 and striking form, their duties ? Has not what 
 we call the progress of the world been effected 
 
330 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 by men wlio in various ways enounce the 
 truth ? 
 
 A. Unquestionably. 
 
 B. Sucli men, regarded as exponents of the 
 Divine will, are, in the strict sense of the word, 
 mediators : they stand hetiveen God and His 
 creatures. The Hebrew x3rophets, many of the 
 ancient philosophers, poets in all ages, men of 
 science, all these are to be reckoned as ap- 
 pointed agents by whom God is made known 
 to us. 
 
 A. Yes ; but what has this to say to the 
 mediation of Christ ? 
 
 B. It represents one phase of His office. He 
 was " that Prophet Who should come into the 
 world." He taught mankind " to live soberly, 
 righteously, and godly in this present world," 
 in expectation of an eternal existence. He 
 distinctly instructed men, how to approach God 
 in ivorsMpj setting before them this mode of 
 intercourse as a preparation for a full commu- 
 nion with God hereafter. He declared the 
 efficacy of repentancey and imparted to every 
 one knowledge of the truth, which has proved 
 of inestimable comfort to millions in the hard 
 struggle for existence. 
 
 A. But this might have been done without 
 any introduction of the strange and mysterious 
 
A llEDEEMEil AND MEDIATOll. 331 
 
 teacliing upon which Christians dwell so 
 fondly. 
 
 B, Yes ; but He connected this teaching 
 with further instruction which, true or not, 
 has exercised an incalculable influence, and, as 
 we think, has conferred extraordinary benefits 
 upon the human race. To make this clear, let 
 us take the instance of another great teacher, 
 Socrates. Upon how many amongst us has his 
 teaching an influence now ? 
 
 A. Upon but a few, I fear. 
 
 B. And yet he too taught the truth. Why 
 is it that the influence of the one extended to 
 so few, while that of the other is felt up to the 
 present time ? 
 
 A. I suppose, because the teaching of Christ 
 was more practical and suited to the wants of 
 greater numbers of people. 
 
 B. That is one reason, perhaps ; but not, I 
 think, the most important. Do j^ou not think 
 that the idea which animated Christ's ministry, 
 that He tvas founding a kingdom, into ichich His 
 followers, are called as citizens — a kingdom over 
 which He was to reign invisibly — is the cause 
 of its wide-spread influence ? This kingdom 
 is regulated by a code of laws which He 
 enounced. It consists of those who are still 
 on earth fighting life's battles, to whom the 
 
332 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 present time is a period of discipline ; and of 
 those who are withdrawn from the present 
 scene, and are waiting for the fulfilment of His 
 promises. By the influence which He exerts 
 upon His followers, they are being gradually 
 educated unto a condition of perfection, *' unto 
 the measure of the stature of the fulness of 
 Christ." According to this idea, Christ is the 
 Mediator between God and man, by Whom the 
 human race, or at least those who obey His 
 laws, are being made fit for a habitation in the 
 presence of an all-pure God. 
 
 A. But there is no shadow of demonstration 
 of this to be derived from nature. 
 
 B. Possibly not : it is a state of things which 
 we learn only from His revelation. Yet such a 
 notion of spiritual improvement is not incon- 
 sistent with what we observe as the object and 
 work of the great renovators of society at various 
 epochs of the world's history. Towards moral 
 improvement our own efibrts are by no means 
 all-sufficient: we need counsel, example, and 
 assistance to effect it ; and if the soul be indeed 
 eternal, and its existence progressive, we find 
 nothing subversive of moral ideas in the notion 
 of spiritual development by means of spiritual 
 influences which are not capable of analysis by 
 physical methods. At all events such an idea 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 333 
 
 is not contrary to reason, in tlie sense of being 
 contradicted hij experience. 
 
 A, But even if I were to concede the pos- 
 sibility of a spiritual kingdom, there is another 
 aspect of Christ's mediation, which is utterly 
 repugnant to moral ideas, and which no analogy 
 can establish. The Christian religion repre- 
 sents Christ as an atoning sacrifice. According 
 to this idea, Christ was offered as a victim to 
 reconcile God to man. In this are implied 
 several things to which I must take decided 
 exception. First, the idea of expiation repre- 
 sents the future happiness of man as entirely 
 independent of himself Secondly, it makes his sal- 
 vation a deliverance from God's wrath, to effect 
 which the innocent was to suffer for the guilty. 
 This is a breach of the law of justice, which is 
 part of the idea of God. These things seem to 
 me unanswerable objections to the Christian 
 doctrine of atonement. 
 
 B. In reply to this, I must draw your atten- 
 tion to the fact, that the thing objected against, 
 is just one of those matters on which we are 
 profoundly ignorant. How it comes to pass 
 that men are more inclined to evade than 
 to perform what they know to be right, we 
 cannot say. But the fact is one of ordinary 
 experience. Again, we cannot tell why our 
 
334- DIALOGUE ON 
 
 natural efforts after a higher condition of our 
 moral nature are so weak as they are. How- 
 ever, that they are weak each man's experience 
 will convince him. On these xooints we are 
 greatly in the dark. J^ow the question of 
 man's redemption, as revealed in Christianity, 
 is closely connected with these deep questions- 
 When we can solve the one, we may expect to 
 comprehend the other. "When we can under- 
 stand the power and influence of evil ; what it 
 is that gives it such strength in the world as it 
 plainly has ; what is its effect upon the human 
 constitution, and in what relation its prevalence 
 and power place us to the all-pure God— then, 
 and not till then, shall we fully understand this 
 question, and be able to judge whether an 
 atonement for sin is not requisite. But let 
 me ask you what you mean by an atonement ? 
 
 A. I mean the death of an innocent person 
 by virtue of which God pardons the sinner. 
 
 B. But I understand you to say that this 
 idea did away with human responsibility. 
 
 A, Well, and does it not do so ? If I am 
 only pardoned by reason of what another per- 
 son does, it is very like being pardoned without 
 any moral action on my side. 
 
 B. But surely if, when you are in great 
 straits and cannot extricate yourself, another 
 
A REDEEMER AND MEDIATOR. 335 
 
 gives you assistance, it does not of necessity 
 follow that you do nothing for yourself. If a 
 man is frozen in the snow, and another gives 
 him brandy and enables him to use his limbs, 
 would you say that his safety was procured 
 without any agency of his own ? 
 
 A. No, assuredly not. But if I read Chris- 
 tianity aright, something more is implied in an 
 atonement than merely rendering assistance. 
 Christ actually suffered for mankind, the just 
 for the unjust. 
 
 B. I have already said that, in this matter, 
 we are so completely in the dark, that it is un- 
 reasonable to expect to see everything distinctly. 
 The efficacy of Christ's death upon our nature 
 is a thing which transcends all our faculties 
 to ascertain. But that the atonement leaves 
 nothing for us to do is plainly not the case. 
 Whatever else it effects, it does not take away 
 man's responsibility, or render his natural 
 powers valueless towards working out his own 
 salvation. But it does nerve him for a contest, 
 to which he is otherwise unequal ; it gives him 
 just the strength which he requires. Beyond 
 this it may have other effects : we believe that 
 it has ; but we believe this, as we believe other 
 mysteries, in virtue of our belief in the dignity 
 and power of Christ, Who has revealed them. 
 
336 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 All that I contend for now is, that the objections 
 to the atonement arise from assuming that the 
 whole matter is before us, which it plainly is 
 not. 
 
 A. But even in the case of our being igno- 
 rant^ you have before allowed that moral diffi- 
 culties are certainly of great importance in 
 these questions ; and I think the moral diffi- 
 culty against the atonement is such, that even 
 yoic will acknowledge it. How can we believe, 
 that a purely innocent person was ordained to 
 suffer for the guilty ? It is incredible. 
 
 _B. Does it seem so incredible to you ? What 
 then will you say to the experience of every 
 day, that the innocent suffer through the faults 
 of the guilty ? 
 
 A. Why ; I can hardly believe that they do. 
 
 B. Surely you will see it everywhere. It is 
 as much a law of nature as anything else. In 
 the Christian religion we are commanded to 
 suffer for one another, and the opinion of so- 
 ciety has adopted this notion as moral. But, 
 besides this, we are often necessitated to suffer 
 for others — parents for children, friends for 
 friends, fellow-countrymen for fellow-country- 
 men. Half the good that happens in the world 
 arises from the voluntary sufferings which 
 people undergo for others ; and more than half 
 
A KEDEEMER A^'D MEDIATOIl. 337 
 
 the evils wliicli are prevented, are prevented by 
 the self-sacrifice of a few on behalf of others. 
 If therefore you object to Christianity, that it 
 demands our acceptance of a belief in benefits 
 procured by vicarious suffering, my answer is 
 that 3'our argument, if strong against Chris- 
 tianity, is far stronger against natural religion. 
 
 A. How do you make out that? 
 
 B. If you think that the doctrine of the 
 atonement is enough, to disprove Christianity, 
 much more will it show that God does not 
 direct the course of nature. In the ordinary 
 course of events the innocent suffer for the 
 guilty, and that of necessity, Christianity 
 asserts that Christ voluntarily offered Himself: 
 " He gave Himself a ransom for many." 
 According to the Christian account, it is 
 not the forcible offering of a victim, but a 
 voluntary sacrifice of a loving Friend, which 
 forms the centre of the system ; so that I am 
 right in saying, that this argument tells with 
 greater force against natural religion than 
 against revelation. 
 
 A. But consider how different the degree of 
 suffering and the nature of the sufferer, in 
 the Christian dispensation, are from anything 
 which we know of in nature. 
 
 B. Very true. Nevertheless that is no 
 
 Y 
 
138 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 answer to the fact^ that it is so ordered that 
 in the ordinary course of life the innocent do 
 suffer for the guilty. 
 
 A. But yet I do not see, that any adequate 
 reason is assigned for so stupendous an event 
 as that to which we are referring. 
 
 B. In short, you return to your old argu- 
 ment, that when you do not discern the whole 
 state of the case, you consider that your inability 
 to discover the whole is sufficient reason for 
 rejecting, not only what lies beyond your 
 apprehension, but also that part in which 
 analogy seems to point out similarities. This 
 however has been seen to be an insufficient 
 ground for disbelief, in the case of natural 
 religion : why should it not be so in revealed 
 religion also ? The constitution of the world 
 and God's natural government of it is shrouded 
 in mystery. Step by step we reason back, until 
 we are in the region of things beyond expe- 
 rience. Yet, in the natural world, the laws of 
 action are made sufficiently plain for ordinary 
 intelligence ; and in revealed religion, enough 
 is made plain for the life of godliness. If there 
 are things which lie beyond our comprehension 
 in the latter, so are there in the former ; and if 
 we do not reject all moral action because of the 
 difficulty shrouding the ultimate facts on which 
 
A REDEEMER A^D MEDIATOR. 339 
 
 morality is based, so we have no yalid ground 
 for refusing to allow, that the ultimate mysteries 
 of the Christian faith are of the nature of those 
 things which may one day be made clear. Part 
 of the doctrine of mediation is in accordance 
 with observed facts. The rest, though we can- 
 not reason up to it from experience, is yet seen 
 to be not contrary to it; and if a revelation 
 exist at all, such difficulties may be expected to 
 occur, because we cannot know the whole of 
 the design of God in ordering the world as in 
 fact He has ordered it. 
 
 Y 2 
 
340 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 DIALOGUE YI. 
 
 ON THE WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION, 
 AND OF THE SUPPOSED DEFICIENCY IN THE 
 PROOF OF IT. 
 
 B. Before we proceed to discuss the positive 
 evidence for Christianity, I should like to ask 
 you whether there are any further questions to 
 dispose of ? It will be well to ascertain before- 
 hand, if we shall enter upon this inquiry 
 without any concealed points of difference, from 
 which fresh difficulties may arise. 
 
 A. It seems to me that we have not yet 
 reached the point, at which we shall profitably 
 undertake the examination of external evi- 
 dences. Once or twice I have gathered from 
 your observations, that after all I must not 
 expect demonstration. With this I should be 
 content ; but Christianity demands such un- 
 grudging assent, it claims such absolute belief, 
 that I must hesitate to give up my reason and 
 will on insufficient evidence. 
 
 B. Surely that is but reasonable. If the 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 341 
 
 evidence is insufficient, you ought not to ac- 
 knowledge it as sufficient. But then sufficiency 
 is a relative term. Sufficient evidence in the 
 mouth of some will mean absolute demonstra- 
 tive certainty. 
 
 A. Pray consider this. I believe the truths 
 of physical science, because there is no possibility 
 of disbelieving them. Will Christianity afford 
 me such certainty as this ? 
 
 B. Do you believe with absolute conviction 
 those points in physical science which lie 
 beyond experience ? Suppose, for example, a 
 theory is started as to the condition of the 
 earth, based upon observed facts, but extending 
 beyond them ; do you feel certain of the truth 
 of the theory ? 
 
 A. None of the theories of physical science 
 fulfil such a condition; they are only gene- 
 ralizations from experience. 
 
 B. But will you not allow that, even in 
 these sciences, there are degrees of cer- 
 tainty ? 
 
 A. Undoubtedly there are. When opinions 
 are expressed to which facts seem to point, but 
 which are not certainl}^ borne out by the facts, 
 I take them for what they are worth ; I sus- 
 pend conviction upon them. In other cases I 
 accept without reserve what science declares, 
 
342 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 because tlie observations made are absolutely 
 certain and convincing. 
 
 B, You say tbat you take some opinions 
 for what they are worth; will you explain 
 this somewhat indefinite expression ? It may 
 mean that you accept, or it may mean tbat you 
 reject tbem. 
 
 A. My acceptance or rejection will depend 
 entirely upon tlie degree of evidence adduced. 
 In some cases I should be inclined to receive 
 them as true, although I do not feel wholly 
 convinced of the truth of the opinions: in 
 others I should be inclined to reject, although I 
 am not satisfied that truth is entirely wanting. 
 
 B. If I understand you aright, you acknow- 
 ledge that, even in physical science, there are 
 degrees of conviction. Plausible objections 
 may be urged against a theory, and yet, on the 
 whole, the balance of probability may be on its 
 side. Now answer me this : If the particular 
 theory required not only a passive assent, but 
 an exercise of the active powers as well, would 
 this be justly reckoned as an additional objec- 
 tion to it ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. In the case of health, if I 
 am satisfied that a particular theory has a show 
 of truth, I hold it to be not only wise, but ab- 
 solutely incumbent upon me, to frame my habits 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IX REVELATION. 343 
 
 according to the regimen prescribed by the 
 theory. If physiologists assure me that exer- 
 cise is necessary for health, I not only assent 
 to what they say, but I take exercise. If they 
 tell me that a particular kind of exercise is most 
 beneficial, I feel bound to adopt that kind, if I 
 possibly can. 
 
 B. Now I suspect that if you apply this 
 reasoning to religion, you will find that this 
 element of active exertion in accordance icith 
 its doctrines is one of the principal objections 
 to it. If it were only a question of thinking 
 in this or that way, men would not find such 
 objections to religion. It is because it demands 
 that its doctrines, considered as truth, should 
 be carried into practice, that it is charged with 
 irrational dogmatism, and its claims stigmatized 
 as overweening and arrogant. 
 
 A. Pardon me ; I do not think it is the 
 practical portion of Christianity, which presents 
 a difficulty to most minds. "What staggers them 
 is its unpractical and impracticable doctrines. 
 
 B. Perhaps it would be an unfair retort to 
 say, that those only who have striven to carry 
 the doctrines of religion into practice, can pro- 
 nounce whether they are unpractical ; but I 
 believe that an ambiguity exists in the word 
 'practice. It is generally taken to mean our 
 
344 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 actions with reference to societj^ But, on the 
 supposition of the existence of a God, our actions 
 in relation to Him, our thoughts and emotions 
 as regards the unseen governor of the universe, 
 are as much to be considered practice, as the 
 commonest acts of our daily intercourse with 
 one another; and certainly, with regard to Him, 
 the thoughts which religion brings before us 
 are truly and thoroughly practical, whether 
 they be founded on reality and truth or on mere 
 imagination and error. But the question which 
 you have raised is. Are not the absolute claims 
 of religion barred by the uncertainty of its 
 evidence ? Is it not so ? 
 
 A. It is. I say that since there is no abso- 
 lute proof of religion, it ought not to require 
 unconditional acceptance; and further, that, 
 since it has not been given universally and 
 with equal clearness to all, it seems doubtful 
 whether it can have originated from the uni- 
 versal Creator. 
 
 B. We have, then, two questions before us. 
 With regard to the first, the unconditional 
 acceptance of Christianity (for we must not 
 forget that it is t/iat which we denote by the 
 word religion), you will not, I suppose, object 
 to those accepting it absolutely, to whom it 
 appears absolutely true ? 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 345 
 
 A. No, I should not, if they will allow me 
 the freedom not to accept it absolutely. But I 
 hardly see the relevancy of the question. 
 
 £. Well, it occurred to me just then, that 
 the unconditional acceptance of Christianity 
 is viewed by some as amounting almost to a 
 moral obliquity ; but with regard to the ques- 
 tion before us, you say that the uncertainty 
 which attends the evidence for Christianity is 
 a positive argument against its truth. Has it 
 ever occurred to you that the uncertainty of 
 which you speak is, in a great measure, sub- 
 jective ? it arises from the circumstances of those 
 who come to the investigation. 
 
 A. I hardly understand your meaning. 
 
 JB. Perhaps if we consider the case of our 
 ordinary actions, you will see what I mean. 
 Suppose we take pleasure and pain, as the stan- 
 dard by which to try whether a certain thing 
 is desirable or not. Now the pleasure or the 
 pain will vary according to the circumstances 
 of the person ; to a man in health it may seem 
 pleasurable — to a sick man the reverse ; to a 
 lethargic man the pursuit will appear so dis- 
 tasteful as entirely to outweigh the probable 
 pleasure ; death may very likely intervene 
 before the end aimed at is attained; or per- 
 haps it may occur to us, tliat possibly the thing 
 
346 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 desired will not after all fulfil our expectations. 
 We may argue, that very probably men have 
 exaggerated its value and importance. Not- 
 withstanding, we do every day set aside all 
 these possibilities, and pursue our end, in spite 
 of the various hues which it assumes according 
 to the state of our nerves, and in spite of all 
 the possible drawbacks which from time to 
 time occur to us. Is not this so ? 
 
 A. Certainly. 
 
 JB. JSTow is the evidence for Christianity very 
 much more uncertain than the evidence upon 
 which we are compelled to act every day ? are 
 the possibilities attending it more various than 
 those which attach to our ordinary pursuits? 
 are the blessings which it promises very inferior 
 to the pleasures which we think wc may gain 
 from ordinary pursuits ? 
 
 A. Perhaps not. 
 
 B. And if so, whj should we turn into an 
 argument against Christianity the very facts 
 which, if anything, tell in favour of it by show- 
 ing that it depends on evidence analogous, in its 
 uncertainty, to that which claims our practical 
 assent every day that we live ? 
 
 A. But such an answer as this does not meet 
 my other difficulty, that a revelation so partial 
 and variable as this is represented to be cannot 
 be Divine. 
 
WA^^T OF UNIVEESALITY IN REVELATION. 347 
 
 B. In other words, you assert that a revela- 
 tion, of which you know nothing a prioriy cannot 
 be from God, because it is not given in the man- 
 ner and degree which you have prescribed for 
 it in your own mind. 
 
 A. You may certainly silence me by putting 
 the matter in that light, but you can hardly 
 expect me to be convinced by such an argu- 
 ment. 
 
 B. "Well, I think you ought to accept it, to 
 employ your own words, for what it is worth. 
 A revelation of God's will implies the unfolding 
 of something concealed from man concerning 
 the Divine nature, attributes, and purposes. If 
 part of those purposes consists in bestowing 
 different degrees of light on different persons 
 and races, you ought not to reject the revela- 
 tion for being true to what it reveals. 
 
 A. I will not pause to argue this point at 
 length, but will state my position somewhat 
 differently. I find that a revelation, professing 
 to be of vital importance to mankind, and ex- 
 hibiting a condition of things of equal interest 
 to every individual member of the human 
 family, is delivered in a most arbitrary and 
 incomprehensible manner. Some portions, in- 
 deed the greater number, of mankind are totally 
 unacquainted with it. Of the rest a very large 
 
348 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 proportion have but the most fragmentary 
 notion of its contents. To many it is presented 
 encrusted with a vast accumulation of legendary 
 and purely imaginary details. It is confessedly 
 corrupted by superstition, and trammelled with 
 the inventions of designing men, so that the ut- 
 most historical acumen is hardly able to discern 
 between the true and the false. Only a very few 
 among the millions of the human race are sup- 
 posed to possess it in its purity. ]S"ow does it not 
 appear to the last degree unlikely, that a bene- 
 volent Creator should compel men to risk their 
 eternal happiness upon a system of doctrines so 
 obscured, so corrupted, and perverted as this ? 
 
 B. The gist of your objection seems to lie in 
 a suppressed premiss that all men, whatever 
 their opportunities, will be judged by the Crea- 
 tor according to the same standard of know- 
 ledge ;' but if you will bear in mind, that men 
 will be judged according to what they have, 
 not according to what they have }iot, much of 
 your difficulty will vanish. For example, the 
 heathen, who have no knowledge of Christianity, 
 are in a different condition from the Moham- 
 medans, who have some stray gleams of light. 
 These again are differently situated from those 
 Christian communities who have greater, al- 
 though an imperfect knowledge ; and these are 
 
WANT OF rNlVERSALITY IX IlEYELATIOX. 349 
 
 to be reckoned as responsible for less than 
 those who possess the pure light of the Gospel. 
 A. As regards a final judgment, such an 
 explanation as yours would serve to vindicate 
 the Creator from merciless severity and injus- 
 tice. So far I acknowledge the force of your 
 reply; indeed I believe that nothing injures 
 the cause of free thought so much as the at- 
 tempt to represent the God of the Christians as 
 a kind of malevolent demon, gloating over the 
 sufferings which He has the power to inflict. 
 There can really be no question, to a mind free 
 from prejudice, that Christianity does represent 
 God as a loving Father, a benevolent Spirit 
 Who desires that all men should seek the way 
 of happiness, and grieves over the perverse and 
 obstinate sinner. I will not pause to consider 
 the appropriateness of this human imagery to 
 an Infinite Being : suffice it to say, that I 
 acquiesce in the representation as a worthy 
 one, and will not quarrel with the language. 
 But when we come to practical questions, is 
 it not staggering to find that the same God, so 
 full of love and fatherly kindness to mankind, 
 is represented as providing so unequally for 
 them ; that the religion which, after long cen- 
 turies of struggle, has at last obtained from 
 men an acknowledgment that there is no 
 
350 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 respect of persons with God, but that in His 
 sight all are alike, that this very religion 
 should represent to us, as the work of God, such 
 an unequal distribution of His highest favours 
 as that which I have just described ? 
 
 B. You think it, then, a disproof of the Divine 
 origin of the Christian revelation, that all men 
 have not alike possessed it ? 
 
 A. I think it looks awkward for its claims. 
 
 B. Has it never occurred to you to compare 
 this inequality with that which is the most 
 striking fact in the whole history of the world ? 
 Wherever you turn, you will find persons pos- 
 sessed of most unequal advantages. What 
 account will you give of the reasons, why some 
 are rich and others poor ; some are surrounded 
 by estimable friends and acquaintances, others 
 are thrown into the company of the worth- 
 less and dissolute? Look at the different 
 advantages afforded by education, by national 
 institutions, by geographical position, by cli- 
 mate and "all the thousand influences by which 
 character, either individual or national, is 
 moulded. What explanation will you give of 
 all this? 
 
 A. I can give none, I acknowledge. 
 
 B. And yet you think all this reconcilable 
 with a beneficent Creator ? In fact^ the proofs 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IX REVELATION. 351 
 
 of His existence far outweigh the contrary 
 arguments. But if you will once concede, as 
 you do, that you do not know the reasons of all 
 this diversity of advantages, it is hut a part of 
 the same concession to allow, that the different 
 advantages, with regard to Christianity, enjoyed 
 by various ages and by different men, are also 
 compatible with the Divine origin of the reve- 
 lation. 
 
 A. The analogy between the two cases seems 
 to be of some value, I acknowledge. 
 
 B. Moreover, let me observe, that if Chris- 
 tianity had been presented equally to all men, 
 it by no means follows, that it would have been 
 equally obvious to all. Differences of character 
 and of mental perception are constituent ele- 
 ments of human nature : they are of the very 
 essence of human freedom. IN'ow the supposi- 
 tion, that all men throughout the whole earth, 
 should, at the same time, have been equally pre- 
 pared for the revelation, is at least as remark- 
 able as the supposition of the existence of the 
 revelation at all. 
 
 ^. I do not quite understand you. 
 
 B. It would be, I say, a most astounding 
 idea, that the moral and mental condition of 
 the human race should, at a certain time, have 
 been completely and individually uniform. 
 
352 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 A. It would indeed ! 
 
 B. But if your demand were conceded, no- 
 thing less than this would be required. 
 
 A. How so ? 
 
 B. Because then the revelation would not 
 have been equally afforded to all. 
 
 A. Surely if the same facts were exhibited 
 to all mankind, they would have been equally 
 favoured. 
 
 jg. Xot so. A revelation takes place, in order 
 to effect a moral regeneration: it presupposes 
 a certain moral condition, a degree of mental 
 and moral development, to appreciate it and 
 assimilate it. 
 
 A. Stay : you are proving too much. Do 
 you mean to say, that Christianity is not 
 adapted for races in all degrees of develop- 
 ment ? 
 
 B. The Christian revelation, according to 
 my conception of it, comprises, in its range, 
 elements suited to every age and disposition. 
 Nevertheless, I maintain that, had it been pub- 
 lished in earlier times, it would not have met 
 with such ready acceptance, nor would its doc- 
 trines have spread so rapidly over the world. 
 The proof of this you will perhaps think strange 
 in my mouth. It is this: among the unci- 
 vilized heathen Christianitv does not, at present, 
 
^VA^'T OF TNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 353 
 
 meet with, such read}^ acceptance as ardent 
 missionaries could hope. One of the chief 
 causes of this is, that the precepts frequently 
 appeal to a higher condition of mental and 
 moral progress than they have attained. To 
 men, who hold revenge to be a sacred duty and 
 regard bloodshed not only without abhorrence, 
 but with, approbation, a long period will have 
 to elapse before they can assimilate the high- 
 toned morality of Christianity. I do not, in- 
 deed, consider this a full explanation of the 
 question, which, as you will easily see, natu- 
 rally runs up into matters involving the most 
 subtle analysis of the moral constitution of 
 man. It will not, for instance, explain the 
 comparative want of success of Christianity 
 among the Hindoos ; but it will make clear 
 what I intend by the assertion, that the same 
 facts and doctrines may be suitable to one age 
 cr individual, while they are only in part adapted 
 to another. 
 
 A. I see that you have anticipated the ob- 
 jection I was about to raise. 
 
 B. I think, then, you will be prepared to 
 acknowledge, that a uniform and contempora- 
 neous promulgation of the revelation would not 
 have had the effect which you attribute to it. 
 It would in fact, even in that case, have been 
 
 z 
 
354 DIALOGUE ON TPIE 
 
 of unequal influence upon tlie various nations 
 of tlie earth. 
 
 A. I confess that your inference seems to be 
 probable. 
 
 B. And this, I imagine, will be an answer 
 to a further objection, that Christianity does 
 not present itself with equal force to all dispo- 
 sitions among ourselves. 
 
 A. But surely this is a confession of weak- 
 ness. It ought, if of Divine origin, to be of 
 such power that no one could deny or doubt 
 the value of its testimony. 
 
 B. In that case, however, it would have been 
 totally at variance with the rest of nature, for 
 the testimony of all nature to the spiritual world 
 is only probable. Perhaps the only fact which 
 is not of this character is the consciousness of 
 individual existence, the sense that " this is I," 
 and that '' I am different from the things about 
 me." If revelation forced itself upon us, we 
 should not of course be able to say that it did 
 not come from God ; for, according to the sup- 
 position, we should be compelled to acknowledge 
 it ; but we should be, in a manner, constrained 
 to adopt Manicha:an ideas, and say that the rest 
 of our knowledge and that on which it is based, 
 the facts of experience, w^ere not from God. 
 
 A. Are vou not becoming? somewhat over- 
 
subtle and drifting into metaphysics ? Why 
 should the certainty of revelation force us to 
 belieye that all other knowledge, not being 
 certain, comes from an evil source ? 
 
 B. On the ground of the uniformity of the 
 divine activity, or, as it is usually called, the 
 uniformity of the laws of nature. When w^e 
 find that revelation has a degree of uncertainty 
 in its evidence, we say that it is on a par with 
 the rest of nature ; whereas, if the moral reve- 
 lation were the only certain thing, it might, on 
 the one hand, overshadow all inquiry on other 
 subjects, and so prevent the work of the intel- 
 lect being carried on ; or, on the other, it might, 
 and probably would, fail to effect one of the 
 purposes for which it was promulgated. 
 
 A. Pray, what is that ? 
 
 B. The moral probation of mankind. 
 
 A. Do you think that purity of life and piety 
 would be less hard, if men had intellectual cer- 
 tainty of the truth of the revelation ? Surely 
 you know, that to be intellectuaUy convinced of 
 a thing which is distasteful to us, is a very dif- 
 ferent thing from practising it. Do you not 
 think, that as far as moral actions are concerned 
 the probation would be equally severe, whether 
 the revelation were intellectually certain or 
 only probable .^ 
 
 z 2 
 
356 DTALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. I can hardly say. I believe tliere are 
 persons wlio, being in their hearts convinced of 
 its truth, do yet act in defiance of it. But I 
 was thinking rather of another class of persons. 
 
 A. To whom do you refer ? 
 
 B. I was thinking of that not inconsiderable 
 class, on whom vulgar temptations have no effect. 
 I mean the men who have their passions under 
 control, or are not greatly affected by them ; 
 who do not care for the ordinary prizes of 
 ambition, for the praise of men, for wealth, or 
 luxury, or ease, men of pure lives and earnest 
 hearts, who, content with little, give them- 
 selves up to reflection and contemplation. 
 
 A. But how can the uncertainty of the evi- 
 dence of Christianity be of advantage to them!" 
 These, you know, are the very men who most 
 commonlj^ find a stumbling-block in the uncer- 
 tainty of revelation. Is not the want of cer- 
 tainty the greatest possible disadvantacjc to such 
 men, supposing that belief in the revelation is 
 really necessary to the completion of our moral 
 training ? 
 
 B. When I say that the deficiency in the 
 proof of Christianity is profitable to them, I 
 mean, that the investigation of doubtful evi- 
 dence, and the acceptance of the necessity to 
 act upon a preponderance, however small, may 
 
WA^'T OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 3/ 
 
 fJi 
 
 be tlie very training of which such men stand 
 in need. It may possibly be needed to remind 
 them of their spiritual nature ; it may be ad- 
 vantageous in recalling to mind the ultimate 
 obscurity in which the end of the most careful 
 analysis is shrouded. So long as a man is 
 engaged on questions over which he has to 
 a great extent obtained a mastery, so as to 
 possess an almost intuitive appreciation of 
 the tendency and nature of the facts sub- 
 mitted to his mind, he is in danger of for- 
 getting the immense uncertainty in which 
 other problems, beyond the range of his in- 
 quiries, are involved. One advantage, then, or 
 at least one element of discipline which the 
 uncertainty of the evidence of Christianity 
 affords, is the constant check it presents against 
 intellectual arrogance. It may be reasonable 
 to say that religion, in its external pre- 
 sentation, is obscure and uncertain ; but to 
 say that it is false because it is obscure, is 
 not reasonable. Yet this is the danger, to 
 which very many men in these days are ex- 
 posed. 
 
 A. Yet, surely, if a king were laying down 
 laws for his subjects to obey, it is only reason- 
 able to expect, that he would make those laws 
 so clear that they could not be misapprehended, 
 
358 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 and would provide an evident proof that tliey 
 were his laws and expressed his will. 
 
 B. That depends entirely upon the object 
 which he has in view in the promulgation of 
 them. 
 
 A. If he meant the laws to be obe3^ed, any 
 other proceeding would be ridiculous. 
 
 B. l^ot necessarily so. A king might have 
 either of two objects in view. The first might 
 be simply to have his icill performed: in that 
 case his instructions would be as clear and 
 explicit as possible. But he might also wish 
 to test the fidelity of his followers: in that case 
 he would probably lay down general rules for 
 their guidance, but he would leave room for 
 the exercise of their discretion, their attention, 
 and their honesty. To exercise the first, he 
 would take care that they were placed in posi- 
 tions of some difficulty, where the exercise of 
 a nice discrimination would be necessary : to 
 evoke the second, he might leave the rules of 
 conduct partially obscure, so that thought and 
 care would be necessary to comprehend them, 
 and to carry them into operation : and to try 
 the third, he would leave them with such cir- 
 cumstances of temptation around them,that their 
 principles would be tested in the performance 
 of their functions. Can vou not imagine that 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 359 
 
 such miglit be tlie object of a king, and that 
 his subjects might possibly be phiced in such 
 circumstances for a definite object ? 
 
 A. Certainly I can. 
 
 JB. Now revelation asserts, that such is the 
 government which God exercises over the 
 world. The Founder of Christianity compares 
 the condition of men in this world to such a 
 state. " The kingdom of heaven is like unto a 
 certain king, who went into a far country to 
 receive for himself a kingdom and to return." 
 He is represented as entrusting his treasure, in 
 various degrees, to his subjects ; and, on his 
 return, as inquiring into the manner in which 
 they had employed their trust. 
 
 A. But in such a comparison He is speaking 
 of moral qualities, not of theological specula- 
 tions. 
 
 Jj. If you will reflect, you will see that the 
 King is represented as giving treasure of various 
 worth to the several servants. l!^ow intellec- 
 tual powers are to be considered as one of the 
 possessions— shall I say the most valuable of 
 all ? — entrusted to men. Accordingly men are 
 responsible for the use they make of them. 
 There is nothing unreasonable in the supposi- 
 tion that they may be misapplied. When 
 therefore you imply, as you do in the above 
 
360 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 assertion, that no responsibility attaches to the 
 abuse of powers of intellect, you are practically 
 denying them to be the gift of God. 
 
 A. Well ; I did not intend to deny our re- 
 sponsibility for the exercise of our reason ; but 
 it appears to me, that you will find it very 
 difficult to decide what is an abuse of our 
 reason. It is obviously a function of the rea- 
 son to ascertain what is the criterion of correct 
 and incorrect reasoning, where the use ends 
 and the abuse begins. It is easy enough to 
 assert that there must be a limit to our specu- 
 lations, and that any attempt to pass beyond it 
 will be unavailing. But then who shall decide 
 when that limit is reached ? The reason itself 
 alone can do this ; so that, although there pro- 
 bably may bo a limit to the investigations of a 
 finite intelligence, it is impossible to say when 
 that limit is attained, and preposterous to con- 
 demn, as a moral obliquity, its transgression. 
 Besides, you must confess that in every age 
 the supposed limit has varied. The cry of 
 "impious and atheistical" has been raised over 
 and over again, where you would acknowledge 
 it to be undeserved ; and so, even though we 
 acknowledge a theoretical limit, we can never 
 practically determine it, and must be content 
 to let men speculate and think without im- 
 
WANT or UXIVEllSALITY IX REVELATION. 361 
 
 posing a restraint upon tliem, which, may be 
 wrong and must be unavailing. 
 
 B. I think you have gone beyond the mark 
 at which we are aiming. With much that j^ou 
 have said, I agree. I do not believe that any 
 external compulsion or denunciation will pre- 
 vent men from speculating on religious ques- 
 tions. Any limit which is imposed on human 
 investigation, must be voluntary, the result of 
 an inward consciousness that such inquiries do 
 not lead to any further knowledge, or, at least, 
 to any greater certainty upon the points in 
 question. But you should bear in mind, that 
 tlie assertion of the abstract impossibility of our 
 revelation very much resembles an attempt to 
 limit human thought ; for the arguments em- 
 ploj^ed reduce themselves to one of two prin- 
 ciples : either the nature of the revelation is 
 impossible, or the whole is self-contradictory. 
 We need not pause to argue the latter question. 
 It is no doubt interesting to investigate par- 
 ticular difficulties in the narrative, but it need 
 hardly be stated, that most of these difficulties 
 are such as will be found in any history of 
 events, however assuredly true. The real 
 question alwaj's is, whether or not a revela- 
 tion, viewed in the abstract, is possible. Every 
 system which attacks Christianity has this for 
 
362 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 its central principle. Eut to assume tliat it is 
 impossible, is to limit the human intellect ; it 
 is to say that the onl}" principle we have to go 
 upon is material experience ; it is to assert that 
 the necessities of human thought, which assert 
 themselves beyond all contradiction, the un- 
 controllable aspiration of the human heart after 
 a moral standard, higher than any of which it 
 has experience, the intense desire to receive a 
 solution of those mysteries of existence, the 
 happiness and misery of human life, and above 
 all the deep-seated consciousness of a spiritual 
 being which, after materialistic physiology has 
 done its worst, and dreams that it has crushed 
 it, springs hydra-headed from the mutilated 
 carcase, or soars again ever-new from its ashes ; 
 it is, I say, to assert that all these things are 
 mere imaginations, childish dreams as they are 
 called, and to forbid men to harbour such ideas, 
 because there is no logical or material basis 
 open to the senses, on which to found an argu- 
 ment. 
 
 A. But tell me, how is it limiting human 
 thought to forbid it to wander into dreamland ? 
 
 B. Because the argument against revelation 
 is based on observations upon the material side 
 of nature. It practically denies all that may 
 not be hammered out of flints or resolved into 
 
WANT OF "UNIVERSALITY IN E.EVELATION. 363 
 
 primary elements of matter. To sa}^ tliat, be- 
 cause such observations carry certainty with 
 them, it is unreasonable to accept anything 
 i\oi foymally certain as a ground of action, is, 
 as I have shown, to deny or to ignore the whole 
 of the moral side of nature, in which such phy- 
 sical and absolute regularity is never to be 
 found. In fact, I do not hesitate to say, that 
 they who reject revelation on the ground of 
 the uncertainty of its proofs, ought logically to 
 go farther, and to refuse social life, because of 
 the difficulties which perplex it. I will com- 
 mend to you this reflection, as a thing well 
 worth consideration in judging of this part of 
 our subject. But there are some further points 
 to which, if you are willing, I should be glad 
 to direct your attention. 
 
 A. I am quite ready to listen to them. 
 
 B. J)o you consider that a person wdio has no 
 doubts, and one who is perplexed with doubts, 
 upon a given question, stand in the same 
 position ? 
 
 A. Pray explain your meaning. 
 
 B. Imagine that you had received a benefit^ 
 and that it might possibly have come to you 
 from a certain person, would you be in the 
 same relation to that person as if you knew 
 certainl}^ that you owed nothing to him ? 
 
364 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 A. Assuredl}^ not. 
 
 JB. "vYoiild you not say, that any one ^Yitll 
 any sense of gratitude and prudence, would 
 consider liis relation to that person altered 
 by the possibility of which we speak ? Even if 
 he did not feel actual gratitude, he ought at 
 least to have a tendency to gratitude. 
 
 A. I think so. 
 
 B. In the same way, even if all that the 
 evidence of religion amounts to in the mind of 
 a man is, that the system of Christianity ma}' 
 ^yossihlf/ be true, he ought to acknowledge that 
 his position is not the same as if no such pos- 
 sibility had occurred to him. 
 
 A. I think that such an inference is in- 
 evitable. 
 
 £. The possibility, then, of the truth of Chris- 
 tianity ought to have such an effect upon a 
 reasonable man, that he should live as if the 
 things therein declared may possibly be true. 
 
 A. But Buddhism and Mahometanism or even 
 Polytheism may possibly be true. Ought men 
 to live as if their doctrines were obligatory ? 
 
 B. Pardon me ; I did not assert that a man, 
 who sees in Christianity only the possible germs 
 of truth, would be compelled by his reason to 
 conform to its whole system. Besides, I think 
 you are confounding in thought the accidents 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 365 
 
 of a sj'steni with its essential principles. IN^ow 
 the essential principles of Christianity are, we 
 have seen, comparatively few. They are not 
 contradictory to experience, so far as expe- 
 rience will guide us ; they are not opposed to 
 the dictates of morality or to the order of the 
 universe. If any one will show me, that the 
 other systems are equally free from grave 
 objections, I will acknowledge the justice of 
 your remark. But if you had heard me to 
 the end, perhaps you would not have found it 
 necessary to ask the question. 
 
 A. I beg j^our pardon for interrupting you, 
 and in return I will acknowledge the justice of 
 your distinction between the principles and 
 accidents of a reKgion. If I comprehend your 
 meaning, 3^ou intend me to infer that a man, who 
 acknowledges the possibility of a revelation, 
 of a redemption from sin by a Mediator, and 
 of distinct duties towards God_, ought at least 
 so to live as not to contradict any of the prac- 
 tical requirements of such a belief. 
 
 B. More than that, such a doubting appre- 
 hension ought to lead men to inquire further 
 into the question of religious duties ; it ought 
 to prevent them from rashly and inconsiderately 
 rejecting evidence; it ought to induce them to 
 seek eagerly for every new light. If religion 
 
366 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 assures them that there are modes of acquiring 
 an insight into Christianity other than reason- 
 ing and argumentation, they should be disposed 
 to adopt them. If it inculcates, over and above 
 common virtues, the practice of certain peculiar 
 qualities, humility of mind, gentleness of tem- 
 per, a disposition not to resent injuries, self- 
 denial rather than self-assertion, self- distrust 
 rather than assurance, they should be ready to 
 turn a willing ear to its suggestions. 
 
 A. In fact, you think that the possibilif?/ of 
 religion ought to influence men as strongly as 
 its certainty. 
 
 B. JN'o : I do not say so. Though in the two 
 cases the hopes, and fears, and obligations will 
 be in different degrees, yet these hopes, fears, and 
 duties will all have reference to the same sub- 
 ject ; and the question, what men are bound to 
 do and what to refrain from, will not be very 
 different in the two cases. 
 
 A. 1^0 doabt, there is a kind of prudence in 
 avoiding what may perhaps end in injur}^ to 
 ourselves ; but it is possible to consider this a 
 low and unworthy motive for doing violence 
 to our freedom of thought. I am inclined to 
 think that religion is actually rendered repul- 
 sive to some men by the prominence given to 
 such reasonings. 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 367 
 
 B. You must not assume that, in setting out 
 this side of the question, I am producing these 
 lower motives as the only or the most valid 
 grounds for piety and religion. It should be 
 borne in mind, that I am showing cause why 
 men should not be irreligious. The higher 
 motives are to those, if there are any such, 
 who have never felt them, like scientific pro- 
 blems to the uninstructed, simply unintelligible; 
 for you must bear in mind that the practical 
 way in which the negation of religion is sup- 
 ported, is very much on a system of profit and 
 loss — " Is it w^orth while to put restraint upon 
 oneself, to adopt a constrained system of life, 
 on the mere possibility of advantage?^' To 
 those who employ this mode of argument under 
 any shape, my reply is, that as wise men they 
 are bound to mould their life in accordance 
 vv^ith this contingency. But, even on pruden- 
 tial grounds, there are higher motives than this. 
 
 A. And what may they be ? 
 
 B. By the rejection of religion, however 
 doubtful, they may do more injury than by 
 acquiescing in its teaching. 
 
 A. How will you convince them of that ? 
 
 B. Whether I shall convince them or not is 
 a question ; but the ground of my assertion is 
 simple. Eeligion docs at least profess to up- 
 
368 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 hold the cause of virtue ; its principles appear, 
 to say the least, to be uniform with those which 
 maintain the coherence of society. The rejec- 
 tion of the one may not of necessity involve 
 the dissolution of the other ; but, from the very 
 nature of association, men will class religion 
 and social order together, as mutually related. 
 
 A. Do you mean to implj^ that they who are 
 instrumental in effecting change, are necessarily 
 irreligious ? 
 
 B. Far from it : nothing can be less true. 
 What I say is, that if the cause of religion and 
 of social order are thought to be related, men 
 who reject religion on the ground of its uncer- 
 tainty, and refuse to act upon its precepts, will 
 encourage and countenance those who repudiate 
 virtue and desire the dissolution of society. They 
 themselves may have no such thoughts ; never- 
 theless, such a possibility ought to be a warning 
 to all men not rashly to accept religious diffi- 
 culties as conclusive arguments against religion. 
 Social anarchy and religious disbelief are often 
 found to go hand in hand, though possibly the 
 advocates of the one have really no sympathy 
 with the promoters of the other. 
 
 A. I think I could find good arguments 
 against your position, or, at least, I could show 
 that you have generalized too rapidly in this 
 
WANT OF TNIYERSALITY IN REVELATION. 369 
 
 matter. Revolutions are not always irreligious. 
 Our own Great Rebellion certainly was not, 
 but, on the contrary, was brought about by the 
 most severely and fanatically religious of men. 
 But to argue this question would take us into 
 general history and away from the field of our 
 inquiry, and I shall content myself, unless you 
 wish to enter upon an historical investigation, 
 with recording my protest. 
 
 B. I thank you for so limiting the matter. 
 In what I said, I was referring to revolutions in 
 nations, where the question between hcUef and 
 unbelief had assumed prominence, and not to 
 the seventeenth century, when the idea of the 
 rejection of Christianity was hardly entertained 
 by any large number. With this reservation, 
 you will scarcely dispute my assertion that 
 the uprooting of the social fabric and the 
 rejection of Christianity go hand in hand ; at 
 least, they who desire the overthrow of all 
 law and government regard Christianity as 
 their most detested enemy ; and the point 
 Avhich I would press upon your attention is, 
 that an active disregard of religion brings with 
 it possible evils, the consideration of which 
 ought at least to have some weight w^ith men 
 who account themselves responsible for the 
 consequences of their actions. 
 
 A a 
 
370 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 A. It appears to me, that it is essentially an 
 immoral proceeding whicli you are advocating ; 
 and I can scarcely imagine one more likely to 
 subvert the cause which you espouse. It is 
 Hobbes' doctrine in a grosser form, " The State 
 must have a religion ; therefore, whatever re- 
 ligion the State establishes, the subject must 
 adopt." However pernicious in its ultimate 
 tendencies, however opposed to advance in 
 knowledge, if it only professes to fall in with 
 established principles, it must be accepted. 
 
 B. You are not serious in what you are 
 saying, I perceive ; so it is scarcely worth 
 while to reply to such a curious misrepre- 
 sentation. 
 
 A. I am quite serious, I assure you, and fail 
 to see how I have misstated your position. 
 
 B. By omitting the whole of the ground 
 upon which it is based. 
 
 A. How? 
 
 B. I said, that in a case where the reasons 
 for and against a course of action were nicely 
 balanced, such considerations as those above 
 stated ought to have their weight in influencing 
 our conduct ; but such a statement in no way 
 implies that, in cases where the arguments 
 preponderate on one side, any considerations of 
 utility ought to prevent us from accepting and 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 371 
 
 acting upon them. The whole force of the 
 arguments rests upon the alleged uncertainty 
 and doubtfulness of the proofs of religion. The 
 line of reasoning would only be immoral upon 
 the assumption that the truth of Christianity is 
 ■prcictically clispro ved. 
 
 A. I confess that my attack did overlook 
 this point. 
 
 B. And yet it is, you must remember, the 
 nucleus round which all our conversation to- 
 day centres : and lest it should again elude us, 
 let me state simply that to which my remarks 
 have tended. The proof of religion is acknow- 
 ledged to be doubtful, to be made up of a 
 series of arguments, each of which is only 
 probable; nevertheless, doubt implies some 
 kind of proof, it denotes that there is some 
 probability in favour of religion. Thus, if a 
 certain number of ideas were to come into your 
 mind at random, you would have no doubt about 
 them ; you would say that their relation and 
 connexion was incredible, for that there were 
 no grounds for supposing them to have taken 
 place. This is not a case of doiiht, you only 
 can doubt when yoM see reasons for and against 
 facts. Do you acknowledge this ? 
 
 A. Certainly it is quite clear that I do not 
 doubt the truth of what I know to hQjake. 
 Aa 2 
 
372 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. Eeligion then is, you will confess, a matter 
 of doubt ? 
 
 A. I do. 
 
 B. And if true, a matter of vital interest ? 
 
 A. Undeniably. 
 
 B. Since then it has evidence in its favour, 
 and is vastly important: can you deny that, 
 practkalUj, men ought to have a dutiful regard 
 to it, because it may be true, and, spemlatkehj ^ 
 they ought to be doubly careful, lest they reject 
 it on insufficient grounds ? Such, in short, is 
 the line of thought which I have endeavoured 
 to draw out. 
 
 A, I cannot deny that it sounds reasonable. 
 However unsatisfactory it maybe to doubt about 
 anything ; still, if probability is all that we are 
 to expect, we ought not to treat that probability 
 as if it had no existence. 
 
 B. And now let us take another step. You 
 have complained of the doubtfulness of religion, 
 and speaking of it as a speculative subject, I 
 argued that the very difficulty of its proof was 
 a means of discipline to contemplative minds. 
 I now say that it is a discipline and a pro- 
 bation to the careless. 
 
 A. In what way ? 
 
 B. Just as difficulties in the practice of virtue 
 are a source of discipline to the moral faculties. 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 373 
 
 A. I must ask you to explain more fully. 
 
 B. Let us take the case of a thoroughly 
 careless man, who heard it said, that the proof 
 of religion is involved in difficulties. It is 
 probable that he would reject it without con- 
 sideration. Should you consider such conduct 
 morally justifiable ? 
 
 A. Certainly not. 
 
 B. So that here at once is a mode of disci- 
 pline arising plainly from the uncertainty of 
 the proof. And to carry this a step farther, 
 there are men who, after entering' upon the 
 inquiry, find it perplexing ; and being very 
 willing that it should not be true, readily 
 explain away what tells for religion, conceal 
 from themselves much evidence which they 
 might see, and act altogether as tliei/ do, who, 
 being desirous of following wicked courses, shut 
 their eyes wilfully to what, in the natural 
 world, is to be regarded as sufficient evidence 
 of the tendency of actions. 'Now, as in that 
 case we saw that the natural world afforded 
 clear opportunities of discipline to those who 
 Avill accept them, so in the case of religion the 
 very doubtfulness of its evidence has this at 
 least of good, that it requires men to keep a 
 careful watch over their thoughts, lest they 
 blind themselves to what lies before them, lest 
 
374 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 they immorally explain away arguments, and 
 reject evidence which they ought to accept. 
 
 A. But you do not mean to assert, that 
 ignorance of the laws of evidence is to be 
 regarded as of the same nature as neglect of 
 the plain laws of morality ? 
 
 B. I cannot see why, amid such a variety of 
 dispositions as we meet with, there may not be 
 many to whom the regulation of their mental 
 constitution is the work set them to do, just as 
 in the majority of cases the regulation of the 
 moral faculties is the special discipline assigned. 
 And you must remember, that even in cases of 
 moral action, the discipline assigned is often 
 not to exercise self-restraint, but rather to 
 guard against false appearances, undue in- 
 fluence, and deception on the part of those 
 about them ; and, in numberless cases^ the 
 principal difficulty is to exert attention, in 
 order to know what is the reasonable and 
 prudent part to act. 
 
 A. Will not this line of reasoning make out 
 that an oversight is as bad as a deliberate 
 wilful wrong ? 
 
 B. Not necessarily. It is only said, that 
 there are men who, having the power of testing 
 evidence and omitting to exercise it, are 
 responsible for their omission. If they have 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. 375 
 
 not the po^Ye^ of testing evidence, the argu- 
 ments employed above will apply to them with 
 double force; they have no right to profess 
 certainty, where they are incapable of ascer- 
 taining it for themselves. 
 
 A. But may not some minds be so constituted 
 as to feel the force of one kind of evidence 
 much more than of another? For example, 
 the evidence of physical phenomena seems to 
 many men infinitely more convincing than 
 moral evidence or inward consciousness, as it 
 certainly is less fallacious. Now if a man says 
 that one physical fact must outweigh any 
 amount of moral evidence, are we to consider 
 that man sinful for his assertion ? 
 
 B. I have shown that, so long as moral action 
 exists, its evidence is purely probable, and if a 
 man asserts that nothing but physical proof 
 will convince him that he is a responsible 
 being, he must be held accountable for the 
 consequences of that belief. And to put the 
 matter very plainly, the physical proof of a 
 God is impossible ; for physical facts result 
 only in facts resembling themselves, sensible 
 and palpable : yet if a God there is, we are in 
 some relation to Ilim. If we deny Him, we 
 deny of course the relation ; but our denial 
 does not destroy the relation ; it makes no 
 
376 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 change in it ; and it is self- contradictory to 
 assert, that if we are eternal existences, we can 
 be annihilated. Yet that is the only solution 
 which, on the theory just started, that men 
 are not responsible for errors in their con- 
 clusions, it is possible to imagine. 
 
 A. According to this argument, ignorance is 
 no excuse for us ; and you will require from an 
 uninstructed heathen the same degree of belief 
 as from the most enlightened philosopher of the 
 most civilized races. 
 
 JB. By no means ; to be ignorant, not having 
 had the means of gaining knowledge, is a widely 
 different condition from careless or wilful blind- 
 ness ; the one is culpable, the other is inevi- 
 table, and the opportunities of knowledge do 
 certainly affect the relation of man to God^ as 
 revealed in the Christian Scriptures. 
 
 A. Can you not, however, find it within the 
 limits of possibility that a man, after honestly 
 and carefully weighing all the evidence on one 
 side and on the other, may at last find the 
 difficulties in the Christian doctrine so great, 
 that he cannot give his full assent thereto ? 
 
 B. Such a condition is possible, without 
 doubt, and not by any means uncommon. 
 Education, association, and the tone of the 
 age, frequentl}^ spread difficulties in the way 
 
WANT OF UNIVERSALITY IN REVELATION. Oi i 
 
 of the acceptance of tlie Christian faith. But 
 
 yet the main argument of this conversation 
 
 remains untouched — that such doubts do not 
 
 justify rejection or hostility to the Christian 
 
 scheme — at most they justify suspense of 
 
 judgment. Let a man have ever so many 
 
 difficulties, there are points in the Christian 
 
 scheme to which we may claim his assent. 
 
 If there are others on which he must suspend 
 
 his judgment, let him at least not proclaim 
 
 bitter hostility ; let him not war with sneer 
 
 and sarcasm ; let him not confound in one 
 
 common reprobation, or treat with supercilious 
 
 disdain, all who can accept more than he. Let 
 
 him only acknowledge, that where he finds 
 
 doubts, there must be reasons on the other 
 
 side; let him apply to moral problems the 
 
 reasonings which he would acknowledge valid 
 
 in th^ ordinary concerns of life ; and I make 
 
 bold t^ say, that he will end by not considering 
 
 the absence of universality and the presence of 
 
 uncertdnty in the Christian scheme as decisive 
 
 reasons for castin<2^ it aside. 
 
378 DTALOGrE ON THE 
 
 DIALOGUE YII. 
 
 ON THE POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHUISTIANITY. 
 
 A. Or all tlie conversations wliicli we have 
 had on these matters, that of yesterday has 
 seemed to me the least satisfactory. ISTot only 
 did we seem to be making no way, but the 
 ground which you took, appeared to me to 
 be lower than that which you have hitherto 
 assumed, and, indeed, than the dignity of the 
 subject required. If the Christian religion is 
 to supply matter for the whole of the thinking 
 part of man ; if it is to elevate his soul above 
 sordid aims and sensual desires^ it ought not 
 to rest for its support on mere appeals tc hope 
 and fear, to profit and loss. It ought not to 
 say to a man, " If j^ou accept not me, take heed 
 lest you fall into something worse ;" but it 
 ought boldly to take its stand upon the highest 
 ground, and to be able to say, " There is no 
 pursuit so dignified, so refined, and so elevating, 
 as the practice and the theory of the Christian 
 religion." It ought to assert and make good 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. '379 
 
 its claim to be *' A}'s artiiim et scientia scicntia- 
 rum^ the most beautiful of arts, tlie science 
 wliich. gathers all others to it, as handmaidens 
 and attendants, to set oif its excellence. 
 
 B. My good friend, it is quite possible for 
 religion to assert and make good this claim, 
 and yet to employ the arguments made use of 
 yesterday. Let me explain how. You are, I 
 know, not only a practical and a scientific man ; 
 you have also a great love and admiration for 
 genuine poetr}^ JSTow in the course of j^our ex- 
 perience, you have met with men in whose idea 
 poetry is but ^' prose run mad ;'^ or at best, 
 a musical way of expressing fanciful and half- 
 formed thoughts. You and I do not think 
 so : we believe that many sound and genuine 
 thoughts are to be found in poetry, which 
 real life conceals; we believe that poets stir up 
 in men great principles, which the actual wear 
 and tear of practice would hardl}" allow them 
 to perceive. But if you were to employ to the 
 despisers of poetr}^, the mode of argument which 
 to us is full of weight, you would be wasting 
 labour, because such thoughts are impossible 
 to them. In the same wa}^ if you argue 
 with men to whom the principles of religion 
 are not familiar, who deny the beauty of 
 holiness, and demand a reason why the}^ may 
 
380 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 not reject religion, you have to fall back upon 
 a different line of argument. The real question 
 yesterday was, what advantages can religion 
 claim for itself over irreligion? Such a 
 question, however it sounds, means in effect 
 what material advantages ; and in reply to 
 such a mode of interrogation, we were com- 
 pelled to employ a utilitarian method. 
 
 A. But surely you might have argued dif- 
 ferently with me. I am not disinclined to listen 
 to any rational arguments in favour of re- 
 ligion. 
 
 B. 'Eo, but you made yourself the mouth- 
 piece of objectors who are disinclined, and it 
 was to your words, not to your impressions, 
 that I addressed myself. 
 
 A. Well, I will forgive j'ou, if you will 
 deal more candidly with me to-day. I wish 
 to know how you will sum up the positive 
 evidence for Christianity. 
 
 B. Let me ask you, how far you intend to 
 go into the question. Will you indicate the 
 line of thought which you wish to follow ? 
 
 A. I wish, of course, to hear all that can be 
 stated as a direct proof of Christianity. 
 
 B. Such a statement would be almost inter- 
 minable. If all the minute questions and 
 difficulties which may have occurred to every 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 381 
 
 student of Christian evidences are to be dis- 
 cussed, we shall have to institute an elaborate 
 investigation of manuscripts, various readings, 
 disputed passages, questions of authorship, chro- 
 nology, the meaning of words, the degree of 
 information possessed by various writers ; we 
 shall have to make minute inquiries into his- 
 torical facts ; we shall be compelled to discuss 
 inscriptions in various languages — Assyrian, 
 Egyptian, Greek, and Latin — for all these 
 things form part of the evidences of Christi- 
 anity. Besides this, we shall have to decide 
 questions of evidence, whether witnesses are 
 reliable, whether, if truthful in intention_, they 
 are competent ; every chapter, almost every 
 verse of the New Testament, and very much of 
 the Old, will have to be minutely analyzed ; 
 a knowledge of Hebrew, as well as Greek, must 
 be presupposed ; not a mere cursory acquaint- 
 ance, such as will suffice to decide whether 
 a certain passage will bear the meaning usually 
 assigned, but a deeply critical knowledge to 
 ascertain what is the true and certain meaning 
 of the writer. Besides this — 
 
 A. Stay, stay ; I acknowledge, that upon 
 such an inquiry I am incompetent to enter. 
 I had looked only for certain general argu- 
 ments, upon which an ordinary man might 
 
382 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 pass a judgment ; but to perform the functions 
 which you have enumerated, a man need be a 
 complete encyclopaedia of science. Yet answer 
 me one thing. How can you expect to convince 
 ordinary people of the truth of Christianity, 
 if the proof is beset with such amazing investi- 
 gations ? Not one man in ten thousand has 
 the leisure or the fLiculties for it. 
 
 B. If I were to answer you in my own way, 
 I should repl}^, that the spiritual nature of man 
 bears witness to the spiritual truth of Christi- 
 anity, and his moral nature to the moral facts ; 
 and, therefore, thej^ who accept it on these 
 grounds, will find sufficient proof of it in those 
 evidences which lie level to their faculties. 
 
 A. You mean to acknowledge, vfhat Hume 
 asserts, that the greatest miracle in Christi- 
 anity lies in the acceptance of it by reasonable 
 men. 
 
 B. I forgive you for repeating the well- 
 known remark, because in the way you have just 
 stated it, it is capable of bearing a true inter- 
 pretation. Jesus Christ has said, that they 
 that do the works shall know of the doctrine ; 
 and I firmly believe, that a man who adopts the 
 moral system of Christ, on the principles and 
 for the motives which He sets forth, will not 
 find any great difficulty in the evidences for 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHUlSTIANITY. 383 
 
 Christianity. But let me ask you this question. 
 Do you not think that they who reject Chris- 
 tianity, act for the most part more strangely 
 than they who accept it ? 
 
 A. My impression is, that on purely rational 
 grounds, I must answer your question in the 
 negative. 
 
 B, Pray consider this: the evidences of 
 Christianity form a long train of arguments, 
 many of them independent of one another. It 
 is a well-known principle, that the probability 
 of an event is to be considered as the result, 
 not of the addition^ but of the onuUijoUcation of 
 the independent probabilities in its favour. 
 ISTow what men frequently do is this; they 
 seize upon some argument which strikes them 
 as uncertain, and on the basis of this reject all 
 the other evidence as worthless. Every age 
 has a special bias ; men adopt the objection 
 peculiar to their generation, and neglect the 
 consideration of all other modes of proof favour- 
 able to Christianity. This is illogical to the 
 last degree. Then, again, many of their diffi- 
 culties are not only suggested by others, but 
 are actually adopted from others. Thus men 
 accept, as demonstrated facts, various critical 
 theories of the origin of the Gospel Narratives, 
 of the authorship of the Epistles ; they accept 
 
384 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 the conclusions,, without examining carefully 
 and judicially the processes by which those 
 conclusions were inferred ; in short, in order to 
 refuse credit to the Scriptures, they repose 
 credit in men whose writings frequently they 
 do not stud}^ deeply, which they do not attempt 
 to sift, which very often they only know at 
 second hand, and which they estimate accord- 
 ing to the judgment of some one whom they 
 respect. Yery many men reject Christianity 
 upon grounds which are utterly insufficient. 
 Their science is imperfect, .their criticism in- 
 adequate; they accept an argument or an 
 assertion, backed by a great name ; they have 
 neither the opportunity nor the acquirements 
 necessary for a strict investigation. Surely in 
 a matter of such moment, such hasty and 
 inconsiderate behaviour is the part neither of 
 a philosopher nor a practical man. 
 
 A. In what 3'ou have said there is much 
 truth. 'No one can justify the hasty way in 
 which objections are snatched up and passed 
 on from man to man. Every man who can 
 read and write thinks himself competent to 
 decide questions which have occupied thought- 
 ful men for generations, and the due discussion 
 of which implies frequently a life-long study of 
 a special subject-matter. Nevertheless, the 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 385 
 
 main j^roofs of Christianity must lie open to 
 the capacit}^ of ordinary men, otherwise there 
 could be no pretence of conviction on the part 
 of such. 
 
 B. If I were to ask you to assign the his- 
 torical basis of the Christian religion, to what 
 would you point ? 
 
 A. To the collection of books called the JN'ew 
 Testament, no doubt. 
 
 B. And should you object to receive the 
 testimony which they afford to the founding 
 of the religion ? 
 
 A. I should say, that those books represent 
 a current tradition and system of doctrine, 
 which had gathered round the name of one 
 central figure ; and that it was probable that, 
 in the course of time, an accretion of the 
 marvellous had been added, partly through 
 the fervour, partly through the pious frauds, 
 of the earliest propagators of that religion. 
 
 B. Let us examine your view. You will, I 
 suppose, acknowledge that such a person as 
 Christ did once live and teach in Judca— that 
 He was born of humble parentage, somewhere 
 about the time usually assigned? Heathen 
 writers, as you probably know, can be brought 
 to attest this much. 
 
 A. Yes ; I think that upon this point I need 
 
 Bb 
 
386 DIALOGITE ON THE 
 
 not delay you : that a person, wlio claimed to 
 be the Christus or Messiah, did appear about 
 this time is, I think, a well- ascertained fact. 
 I cannot think it possible that such a person, 
 so definitely and circumstantially described, 
 can be the ofispring of a mere religious ima- 
 gination. Moreover, I consider that the pas- 
 sage in Suetonius, referring to " One Christus," 
 sufficiently establishes the fact of His existence. 
 Beyond this, there are other passages in Eoman 
 writers, which forbid the denial of it. 
 
 B. We need not, then, pause to argue the 
 mythical theory, that such a person is a mere 
 ideal, without any reality of existence beyond 
 the imaginative brains of some poor fishermen, 
 converted tax-gatherers or tent- makers, or 
 the hysterical visions of some Jewish women ? 
 You will allow that the existence of Jesus 
 Christ is a fact, which we have every reason to 
 acknowledge ? 
 
 A. I will grant this, but let me caution you 
 as to the natui'e of the admission. All that 
 it amounts to is, that a certain person once 
 lived Who gathered round Him a body of 
 admirers, principally poor men like Himself. 
 I have conceded nothing as to the description 
 given of Him in the Gospels. The question, 
 how far, in the lapse of years, His actions were 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOE, CHRISTIANITY. 387 
 
 distorted, His words magnified into lessons of 
 Divine wisdom, and all the circumstances of 
 His life invested with a halo of mysterious 
 romance, in no degree enters into mj con- 
 cession. 
 
 B. I quite understand ; however, I wish to 
 draw your attention to two expressions which 
 you have just used, in order to know whether 
 you employed them advisedly. You spoke of 
 Christ's admirers being j^oor men like Himself , 
 and you ascribed the miraculous accounts of 
 the Gospels to the lapse of years. Have you 
 any wish to modify either of those expres- 
 sions ? 
 
 A. By no means. I think they correctly 
 express my meaning. 
 
 B. It is plain, then, that the authors of the 
 narratives called the Gospels, to take the most 
 unfavourable case, must have derived their 
 information, directly or indirectly, from these 
 same poor followers of Jesus Christ. 
 
 A. I suppose a portion of the facts must 
 have been handed down from their narratives. 
 
 B. And you wish to imply, I presume, that 
 the story, so handed down, grew graduallj^ into 
 the dimensions in which it has reached us. 
 
 A. Yes ; I imagine it possible that, in the 
 hands of later disciples, embellishments were 
 B b 2 
 
388 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 added to grace the narrative and make it 
 palatable, and that, by these means^ the mira- 
 cles were introduced, and the historj^ made 
 attractive. 
 
 B. This is, you think, a more natural account 
 of the matter, than that the narratives were the 
 composition of the persons to whom they are 
 attributed ? 
 
 A, Well, it appears to me a possible expla- 
 nation, and it frees us from several difficulties ; 
 it would explain how discrepancies have arisen, 
 according as the tradition varied, and it would 
 very fairly account for the introduction of the 
 miraculous element into the history. 
 
 B. Ah ! now I see your reason for adhering 
 to this hypothesis ; you still consider the 
 miracles a difficulty, and so you will adopt a 
 theory, which allows of the miracles being later 
 interpolations. Your argument, or rather I 
 should perhaps say the argument of those 
 whom you are following, is simply this : 
 " Miracles are impossible, therefore any hypo- 
 thesis which gets rid of them is reasonable." 
 Of course you are aware that there is no ground, 
 in the world, for accepting this hypothesis, 
 beyond the fact that it is not impossible. The 
 first three Gospels were accepted by the 
 Christians early in the second century (that is, 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 389 
 
 within a Imndred years of the death of Christ), 
 as the undoubted production of His contempo- 
 raries; one of them, at least, bears traces of 
 being written for men well acquainted with 
 Jewish customs and traditions ; another, to all 
 appearance, was written by a contemporary 
 and fellow-traveller of St. Paul ; it is dedicated 
 to the same person to whom a treatise, which 
 has the strongest internal marks of being 
 written by one of his followers and personal 
 friends, is addressed. If it were not for the 
 miracles, no one would find any difiiculty in 
 assigning the Gospel of St. Luke and the Acts 
 of the Apostles to the same author. Now you 
 should remember, that the destruction of Jeru- 
 salem and the annihilation of the Jews as a 
 nation, took place within fifty years of the 
 death of Christ, and that, therefore, there is a 
 presumption that a writer, who presupposes an 
 intimate knowledge of Jewish customs, wrote 
 his narrative before the destruction of Jeru- 
 salem. And if the Acts of the Apostles is the 
 work of a contemporary of St. Paul, it is almost 
 impossible not to accept the Gospel of St. Luke 
 as of equally early date. 
 
 A. But all your supposed proofs go upon 
 the supposition that the facts alleged are not 
 interpolations, designed to give proof of the 
 
390 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 genuineness of the narratives. What is more 
 likely than that they should be interpolations ? 
 B. It would be impossible now to enter upon 
 the discussion of this question, but I may be 
 allowed to say, that the theory of interpolation 
 as applied to the Acts of the Apostles, will be 
 found to be almost untenable ; however, as I 
 may have to speak of this hereafter, I will not 
 press the matter, but let me ask you to attend 
 to this. N'umbers of sects and heresies arose 
 in the second century. Now the Gnostics and 
 the Marcionites knew of the Gospels. Marcion 
 flourished about a.d. ,138 ; he wrote a Gospel 
 probably about 130, adapting what previously 
 existed so as to suit his particular views. 
 Recent writers have established that the Gospel 
 of Marcion was an adaptation of St. Luke; 
 at all events, it is fairly shown that such a 
 Gospel existed before a.d. 120. The idea, then, 
 that this Gospel was composed in the middle of 
 the second century is utterly arbitrary; and 
 surely the testimony of the whole Christian 
 Church, that this and other Gospels were the 
 work of contemporaries of the Apostles, ought 
 to be of weight, when there is nothing but 
 surmise to be set on the other side. 
 
 A. I confess that this argument has much 
 weight with me ; but still you will only thus 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 391 
 
 bring evidence for their origin as early as tlie 
 first half of the second century. 
 
 B. Still if, in the second century, we find 
 that the Gospels, as they now are, did exist 
 and were spoken of as the work of those w^hose 
 names they now bear, this is strong evidence. 
 If the genuineness of the Gospels had been 
 doubted, there were surely men among the 
 heretics who would have made use of the 
 doubt ; and we should have heard among the 
 defenders of Christianity of replies to these 
 objections. But the fact is, that the Christian, 
 writers assume as a point undisputed the 
 genuineness of the Gospels. And more than 
 this. It is plain from their writings, that the 
 Gospels were, before the end of the second 
 century, gathered into an authoritative book. 
 Other narratives on the same subject had been 
 rejected as not equally authoritative. I^ow we 
 may fairly ask, how could this process of sifting 
 have taken place, had not the question of the 
 authorship of the Gospels been freely discussed ; 
 and on what principle could these have been 
 accepted and the others rejected, except that 
 the authorship of the one was considered to be 
 a guarantee for their veracity and authority, 
 while that of the other was held to be uncer- 
 tain ? 
 
392 DIALOGrE ox THE 
 
 A. But might not the contents of the other 
 writings, which were discredited, have been 
 such as to do harm to the cause of Christianity 
 b}^ the monstrous and incredible fables which 
 they related ? 
 
 B. Possibty ; and that would prove that the 
 spirit of criticism was to a certain extent alive 
 among the rulers of the Church, and that a 
 miracle was not accepted unless attested by 
 good and reliable authority. But now, having 
 traced the date of the Gospels into the first 
 century, we are in the age of those who were 
 the younger contemporaries of the disciples of 
 Christ. 
 
 A. Stay ; I must not allow you to proceed 
 too fast. You are rather making assertions 
 than jDroviDg conclusions. 
 
 B. Well, if I have shown that there is no 
 probability that the Gospels were composed in 
 the latter half of the second century ; that there 
 is a probability that one at least was written, 
 and not only written but acknowledged as 
 authoritative, early in the second century ; if 
 there is no ground for assuming that it was 
 composed just before that time ; and if the 
 general impression was that the Gospels were 
 of much earlier date;— I do not see, that it is 
 very unreasonable to infer that they were the 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 393 
 
 productions of men wlio lived in the time of 
 the apostles ; and who so likely to have written 
 them as they who had witnessed the events 
 which they recorded ? There is as much reason 
 for supposing them, to be the writings of those 
 whose names thej bear, as there is for attri- 
 buting other ancient writings to the authors 
 whose names t/ie// bear. For if others had 
 taken in hand the task of recording events 
 which they only knew from hearsay, it is ex- 
 tremely probable, that they who witnessed the 
 events would have considered it incumbent upon 
 them to hand down, for the use of others, the 
 correct narrative of the circumstances upon 
 which they based a doctrine and a practice so 
 new to the world. 
 
 A. But is it not possible, that the whole 
 history is the result of an enthusiastic devotion 
 in a few ardent minds, and that the real Christ 
 and His teaching were as little like the Christ of 
 the Gospels as we may suppose the real Socrates 
 was unlike the Socrates of Plato^s Dialogues ? 
 
 J3. What right have you to assume that 
 Socrates did not teach what Plato ascribes to 
 him ? But even if you are justified in this 
 assumption, the case is little to the point. Plato 
 was an Athenian, a leading spirit in a nation 
 of exceptional genius. The morality which he 
 
394 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 teaches, the doctrines which he inculcates; are 
 elevated indeed ; but they do not differ essen- 
 tially from much of the wisdom of the fore- 
 going philosophers ; not so much as to compel 
 us to view him as an entirely isolated thinker 
 and moralist. But the notion that a body of 
 uneducated Jews, living at a time when the 
 Jews were regarded by other nations as in a 
 state of degradation, moral and intellectual, 
 when the whole of that people was in a con- 
 dition of bitter and furious exasperation against 
 their Eoman oppressors, and perpetually en- 
 gaged in bloody rebellions, should have in- 
 vented a character so unlike a Jew as Jesus 
 Christ ; should have assigned to Him a system 
 of teaching so elevated and ennobling as that 
 which we find in the Gospels; should have 
 devised a theory of a spiritual kingdom not con- 
 nected with this world — a theory which, what- 
 ever its intrinsic merits, possessed a strength 
 sufficient to cope with the power of imperial 
 Eome, and to draw all nations to itself — this is a 
 supposition so extraordinary, that no one who is 
 not determined to close his eyes to the facts of 
 Christianity can entertain it for a moment. 
 
 A. Yes ; I allow it does appear extravagant; 
 and when I take a general view, such as you 
 have just indicated, I feel inclined to waive all 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 395 
 
 objections ; and yet, wlien my mind returns to 
 details, I see objections innumerable which 
 demand an explanation. 
 
 B. You have allowed that Jesus Christ did 
 really live ; you have now provisionally con- 
 ceded that the Gospels may possibl}^ be a nar- 
 rative by competent writers ; will you grant 
 that the main outlines of the life of Jesus may 
 be relied on ? 
 
 A. Stay; is it not possible that men so 
 aroused as these men were, may have been 
 imposed upon, or that, convinced of the im- 
 portance of their Master's life, they may have 
 thought it right to present it to the world in 
 an imposing dress ? 
 
 B. I think I understand your meaning. You 
 suppose that there is an element of truth in the 
 history, but that the miraculous part of it is 
 either a pious fraud or the result of super- 
 stitious susceptibility. 
 
 A. Exactly so. 
 
 B. If the writers of the Gospels had intended 
 to make their writings attractive, they would 
 not have adopted the simple narrative form. 
 Eemember that these histories are for the most 
 part as simple as annals : there is no search for 
 effect ; the narrative is unadorned ; the miracu- 
 lous events are introduced as plain matter of 
 
396 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 fact ; they enter in as naturally as the most 
 ordinary circumstances ; they are related as 
 occurring in the sight of numbers of witnesses, 
 some at least hostile. 
 
 A. But is it possible that such events should 
 have occurred and not have gained a world- 
 wide notoriety ? 
 
 B. You must remember that they who op- 
 posed them believed firmly in the operations 
 of an evil spirit ; they held that the work which 
 Christ was effecting was evil, as tending to the 
 subversion of the religion of Moses. They 
 therefore regarded Him as the agent of the 
 evil spirit. So much for the Jews. As for the 
 Romans, tlief/ counted the Jews as ignorant and 
 superstitious barbarians ; an34hing which was 
 related as occurring amongst them would be 
 simply laughed at as an oriental fable. The 
 result is, that the Jews who could have borne 
 witness would attribute miraculous works to an 
 evil agency ; and even if they had not done so, 
 their testimony would have gained no credence 
 in the world. Accordingly, the only witnesses 
 who would have any interest in perpetuating 
 the events were that knot of poor men who 
 were personally attached to Jesus Christ. It is 
 to them, then, that we must look for any trust- 
 worthy evidence. 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOE, CHRISTIANITY. 397 
 
 A. But what warrant have we that they 
 were not pious deceivers ? 
 
 B. The warrant of their lives, spent in sim- 
 plicity and honesty ; the warrant of a doctrine, 
 of which the essence is the hatred of deceit ; 
 the warrant that their preaching gained for 
 them neither honour, nor riches, nor popular 
 applause ; but scorn, poverty, ignomin}^, per- 
 secution, and frequently cruel and lingering 
 death. 
 
 A. All this sounds extremely well ; but it is 
 quite possible for men to profess a high regard 
 for truth, and, on the whole, to act up to what 
 they profess ; to be willing also to lay down 
 their life for their opinions ; and yet to have 
 so deluded themselves as to believe that the 
 doctrines which they hold are essential to the 
 well-being of society. Instances are abundant 
 of persons in this condition. When once a 
 habit of mind has been acquired, it matters 
 little on what foundation it rests. It becomes 
 a reality ; men will suffer for it, fight for it, 
 work for it, and lie for it ; their mendacity is 
 to a great extent unconscious ; the institution 
 or the faith for which they contend has become 
 a necessit}^ to them, and they conceive that its 
 destruction would be an irreparable loss to the 
 world. 
 
398 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. Your observation is most just. Sucli 
 cases are to be found ; but you should observe, 
 that they occur when institutions have already 
 taken a deep hold upon the public mind. Such 
 cases are the divine right of kings or the sa- 
 cred rights of the people. But in a case when 
 authority and prescription, the feelings of edu- 
 cated men, and the sympathies of the unedu- 
 cated, are enlisted against an opinion ; when, in 
 fact, the whole tenor of public thought opposes 
 it, your observation does not equally apply. 
 You will find that, viewed historically, the 
 propagation of opinions antagonistic to popular 
 thought does not, as a rule, arouse such an 
 enthusiasm as that which animated the early 
 Christians. 
 
 A. What say you to the religion of Ma- 
 homet ? 
 
 B. The opinions of Mahomet were, from the 
 first, supported by powerful friends ; they be- 
 came the favourite doctrines of warlike and 
 conquering tribes ; they won their way by vio- 
 lent means, and can in no way be compared with 
 Christianity, which was introduced by a few 
 poor and despised men, and drew converts from 
 the same class. The means of its propagation, 
 for at least three centuries, were purely peace- 
 ful. They who espoused it, literally gave up 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOB, CHRISTIANITY. 399 
 
 all for its sake. They consented to be despised 
 and persecuted by friends and relations ; and 
 tbis tbey did with tlieir eyes open ; for tbe first 
 preachers of Christianity proclaimed, in the 
 words of the Founder, that the father should 
 betray the son to death and the son the father, 
 and that a man's enemies should be they of 
 his own household. But the fact is that the 
 early Christians were earnest, not so much for 
 ojnnions as for facts. If you will read St. 
 Paul's language, as given in the Acts of the 
 Apostles, 3^ou will find, that what he impresses 
 upon his hearers is always the facts of Chris- 
 tianity. Now there is a considerable difierence 
 between vehement assertion of opinions and 
 determined belief in facts. Opinions are im- 
 palpable, incapable of refutation except by 
 reasoning, and therefore men may easily close 
 their ej^es to the other side. But facts are 
 capable of verification. The early Christians 
 embraced the Gospel under the idea that they 
 witnessed miracles. The first converts received 
 the new religion on the strength of actions, 
 which they thought they saw performed before 
 their eyes. It is, of course, open to you to say 
 that they were deceived ; but it seems impos- 
 sible to imagine, that men would be willing to 
 lay down their lives for facts Vvdiich they had 
 
400 DIALOGUE 0^' THE 
 
 never witnessed, or at least supposed that they 
 witnessed. 
 
 A. Yes ; on the whole I think it probable, 
 that the first preachers of Christianity must 
 have believed the facts which they related. St. 
 Paul must have been strongly impressed with 
 a notion that he had seen Jesus Christ, and that 
 God had spoken to him again and again ; but 
 all this may have been hallucination — the effect 
 of hypochondria or nervous derangement. I 
 can easily imagine a man of keen imagination, 
 pondering painfully over the allegations of the 
 Christians, impressed with their earnestness, 
 and unconsciously drawn by his mental bias to 
 their side. All the while that this unconscious 
 agency was at work, an equally unconscious 
 resistance to the impending mental change 
 within him would operate : he would be urged 
 on to more violent persecution in proportion to 
 the growing sense of his cruelty and injustice ; 
 he would endeavour to still his moral sense by 
 a more active discharge of his duties as an 
 inquisitor. But the mental strain at length 
 becomes too great ; he is seized with an epilep- 
 tic fit, and in his convulsions is convinced that 
 he hears the voice of the God Whose followers 
 he persecutes expostulating with him. On his 
 recovery he becomes a Christian, and takes a 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 401 
 
 pleasure in suffering for the cause which before 
 he had oppressed. 
 
 B, Supposing that this were an admissible 
 explanation of the circumstances to which j-ou 
 advert, you have yet forgotten an essential 
 point. After his conversion St. Paul was blind 
 for three days : at the end of that time he 
 received his sight at the hands of a man named 
 Ananias. This part of the event is circum- 
 stantially related by him. Here there is no 
 question of hypochondria or delusion. The 
 apostle declares that he was blind, and that he 
 recovered his sight. The malady and the cure 
 were both sudden ; and we are told that the 
 23erson from whom he received the cure was at 
 first unwilling to visit him, but at length came 
 to him by what he believed to be a direct com- 
 mand from God. How will you reconcile this 
 with your theory of hallucination ? According 
 to your idea two persons, not personally known 
 to one another, were almost simultaneously 
 affected with unaccountable fancies : one was 
 induced to change his whole manner of life, 
 and to renounce w^hat before he held most 
 sacred; the other was prevailed upon to visit 
 a man whom he knew to be a bitter enemy, and 
 who had come for the very purpose of suppress- 
 ing the opinions which he himself professed. 
 
 c c 
 
402 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 To trace such a coincidence to epilepsy or hal- 
 lucination seems utterly impossible, or, at all 
 events, a most desperate mode of solution. 
 
 A. But I imagine that the whole episode of 
 Ananias and the recovery from blindness was 
 part of the same transient mania. 
 
 B. In that case it seems strange that St. 
 Paul, having had the opportunity of inquiring, 
 should have embodied in his preaching things 
 which were absolutely capable of refutation. 
 You must bear in mind, that the whole current 
 of the history tends to prove that St. Paul was 
 looked upon with a certain degree of jealousy 
 among the Jewish Christians ; by many, indeed, 
 he was regarded with a feeling akin to hatred. 
 This we learn from those Epistles which are 
 allowed by the most minute eristics to be his 
 writings. How strange, then, for him to re- 
 peat at Jerusalem and elsewhere, and to suffer 
 his biographers to report, a thing which was 
 capable of being turned against him with fatal 
 force. Such an oversight is incredible. If he 
 had wished to embellish his narrative with 
 marvels, he would have chosen a safer subject 
 than this. Neither as a deceiver nor as an 
 enthusiast can he be supposed to have coun- 
 tenanced such a story. 
 
 A But may not the Christians have agreed 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 403 
 
 to uphold this part of the narrative, on the 
 ground that to discredit it was to injure the 
 whole cause of Christianity ? 
 
 B. You surely forget the enmity of some 
 of the Jewish Christians against St. Paul. 
 They would only have been too glad to seize 
 upon any pretext to injure his authority. Your 
 hypothesis will require, that St. Paul and Ana- 
 nias must have conspired together to assert that 
 an additional miracle had taken place, of which 
 they alone were cognizant, and this miracle of 
 a character comparatively unimportant, com- 
 pared with others which they announced. It 
 involves an elaborate deceit, contrived by men 
 who before were unknown to one another, de- 
 vised for a purpose which could not at the time 
 have entered into their thoughts, viz. to coun- 
 tenance, in after- ages, the claim of Paul to a 
 miraculous conversion. Thus you will have to 
 multiply hypothesis upon h^^pothesis, purely 
 gratuitously, in the face of the acknowledged 
 fact, that the early Christians were men of 
 blameless lives and extreme simplicity of cha- 
 racter. 
 
 A. I confess that this is a most intricate 
 impeachment ; but will you allow me to hear 
 how the supposed truth of the facts will assist 
 you? 
 
 cc 2 
 
404 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 B, I say, that the Epistles of St. Paul repre- 
 sent him as strongly opposed by a party among 
 the Christians, and therefore compelled to be 
 circumspect in his assertions. However, it 
 appears that he was on terms of intimacy with 
 the leaders of the Christian Church, and learned 
 from them the circumstances under which they 
 had come to hold the views which they did 
 respecting Jesus of ISTazareth. Now the main 
 point upon which St. Paul's teaching turns is 
 the resurrection of the dead. His intercourse 
 with the other disciples made him acquainted 
 with many matters concerning this great doc- 
 trine. Among them he found many who had 
 actually conversed with Jesus after His resur- 
 rection ; they had seen Him die ; they had wit- 
 nessed Him, prostrate with weakness and suffer- 
 ing, undergo the punishment of the cross, from 
 which no one was released until the official wit- 
 nesses had certified themselves, that the sufferer 
 was dead ; in a few days they had held inter- 
 course with Him again. Such at least was the 
 testimony vfhich they bore to Paul. 
 
 A. Pardon me ; are you not assuming the 
 reality of the history in the question, which is 
 the point in dispute ? 
 
 B. No, I think not. We have certain other 
 documents besides the Gospels and the Acts of 
 
POSITIVE EVIDEXCE FOR CHRISTIANITV. 405 
 
 the Apostles. The most minute criticism seems 
 to have decided that the four principal Epistles 
 of St. Paul, those to the Corinthians, to the 
 Galatians, and to the Romans, are proved by 
 incontestable evidence to be his genuine pro- 
 ductions. Now in these he asserts, that several 
 of his predecessors in the Christian faith had 
 actually witnessed the appearance of Jesus 
 Christ after His death. He mentions His ap- 
 pearance to Peter, with whom Paul was on 
 intimate terms, as well as various other mani- 
 festations of His resurrection ; so that St. Paul 
 is a genuine link between the earliest disciples 
 and the more developed Churches ; and his 
 allusions to the Gospel facts bring us into the 
 presence of the twelve Apostles of Jesus. 
 
 A. But may not they have deceived him, or 
 have been deluded themselves ? 
 
 B. As for their intentional mendacity, Paul 
 himself was at one time an unwilling witness, 
 that they were ready to die for their belief; 
 and with regard to their being deluded, when 
 he mentions the fact that Christ appeared in 
 bodily form to above five hundred persons at 
 once, it is very hard to assert that so many men 
 could bo at the same moment subject to the 
 same ocular delusion. 
 
 A. The question tlien resolves itself into 
 
406 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 this : can we believe testimony to sucli an 
 incredible event ? 
 
 B. That is a part of the question, indeed, 
 but not all ; you must add to this St. Paul's 
 conviction, that he too had beheld the risen 
 Jesus with his bodily eyes. But even then you 
 have not exhausted the question. There is a 
 passage in the Acts of the Apostles, in which 
 an extraordinary manifestation of remarkable 
 gifts is referred to. It is said, that a number 
 of men were suddenly endowed Vvith what is 
 described as a gift of tongues. It matters not 
 much what is especially intended by that ex- 
 pression, nor am I at present laying stress upon 
 the history in that passage. Besides this, cer- 
 tain miraculous powers are attributed to various 
 individuals. Now St. Paul, in writing to the 
 Corinthians, evidently in answer to certain 
 questions which they had addressed to him, 
 refers to these miraculous gifts. The language 
 which he uses is such as would imply that 
 these phenomena were quite usual and common. 
 He does not even lay great stress upon them, 
 but sets them below other natural qualities not 
 miraculous. ISTow any one would say that this 
 simple way of alluding to these manifestations 
 is a sign that very extraordinary phenomena 
 had become so common amons; the Christians 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 407 
 
 as to awaken little or no surprise ; so that the 
 question which you propounded just now is 
 rendered more complex. The simple idea of 
 the resurrection might possibly be thought to 
 be the hallucination of an excited mind, but the 
 addition of all these other phenomena compli- 
 cates the matter very much. 
 
 A. But is not the existence and prevalence 
 of these extraordinary phenomena altogether 
 an argument against the whole miraculous 
 narrative ? I mean this : conceding the exist- 
 ence of very abnormal states of mind among 
 the early Christians,, may we not consider that 
 they were more exposed to imposture and less 
 ready to scrutinize what was miraculous than 
 men in the normal condition ? and that, ac- 
 cordingly, the extraordinary details in the 
 narratives lose, rather than gain, in credit from 
 the condition of the writers. 
 
 B. You are assuming that the writers of the 
 narratives composed them under the influence 
 of excited feelings. Such an inference is not 
 warranted by the histories : they are, for the 
 most part, as grave as annals ; the writers be- 
 tray no token of excitement, no aiming at 
 effect. They were perfectly aware, that what 
 they recounted was calculated to arouse as- 
 tonishment, but they neither seek to enhance 
 
408 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 the wonder, nor even to make the most of it. 
 iNTumbers of miracles are passed over in a verse 
 or two of the Gospels. In such a case, it is 
 fair to say, that so far as written testimony may 
 go, these writers deserve credit, by reason of 
 the simplicity and inornate character of their 
 writings. 
 
 A. Truly, this is a goodly foundation to build 
 Christianity upon, that the style of the narra- 
 tives is not extravagant ! 
 
 JB. Nay, do not be angry ; nothing that I 
 now adduce is to be considered as a convincing 
 argument in and by itself; still you ought to 
 allow its own weight to each. JSTow, if it be an 
 acknowledged fact, that men who have to relate 
 extraordinary events, of which they have been 
 witnesses, are apt to fall into extravagant lan- 
 guage and to support their assertions by multi- 
 plied arguments and proofs ; and if a writing 
 is confessedly trustworthy, in proportion to the 
 gravity and staidness of its composition, then 
 the narratives of the New Testament, in this 
 respect, deserve our attention. Nothing can 
 be more grave and sober than the narrative ; 
 nothing can present fewer indications of a de- 
 sire to commend itself by the structure and 
 style. The ordinary events and the miracles 
 are recorded alike in the simplest of language ; 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIAXITY. 409 
 
 the failings as well as the virtues of the actors 
 are caliul}^ stated ; in fLict, if the miracles were 
 not there, no one would deny that the narratives 
 bear the stamp of truth. 
 
 A. But the addition of these, I suppose, 
 makes little difference in the question. 
 
 B. Well ; till the impossibility of a miracle 
 is established on other grounds, we ought to 
 allow this weight to testimony, that, when the 
 writers are not guilty of extravagance, and 
 write as they would in reporting ordinary 
 matters, we ought to credit them with believ- 
 ing the truth of what they describe. 
 
 A. Clearly this is not an extravagant de- 
 mand. I have no objection to exonerate the 
 writers of the Gospels from the charge of inten- 
 tional deceit. Nevertheless, you must allow me 
 to sa}^, that other miracles have been attested 
 by evidence apparently as strong as that for 
 the Christian miracles ; the witnesses have 
 seemed quite worthy of credit ; their testimony 
 has been most circumstantial ; and yet^, after 
 all, the whole matter has proved to be either a 
 mere fancy or an exaggerated statement of 
 ordinary events. 
 
 H. Even if I were to grant that the evidence 
 for other miracles is as strong as that for the 
 Gospel miracles, I should be glad to hear 
 
410 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 what use you would make of the conces- 
 sion. 
 
 A. Why; may we not suppose, that the evi- 
 dence for the Christian miracles might be 
 disposed of equall}^ summarily, if we had the 
 whole case before us ? 
 
 B. Your argument seems to amount to this : 
 two witnesses are examined in different places 
 respecting two distinct crimes^ in no way con- 
 nected with one another, except that they are 
 of the same character. One witness is found 
 to be untrustworthy, therefore you argue that 
 the other witness is probably untrustworthy 
 also. 
 
 A. I can hardly admit that to be a fair 
 statement of my remark. The point is, that in 
 a matter where men are especialty liable to be 
 deceived, to establish a similarity between two 
 cases is to transfer any doubts attending the 
 one to the other. 
 
 B, Yes ; but there is a fallacy in your word 
 similarity. The similaritj^ to which you refer 
 consists in the unusual nature of the events. 
 Whereas the similarit}^ which you require is of 
 a different character. You must show that in 
 both cases the influences under which the 
 witnesses gave their evidence were analogous. 
 Thus a miracle which occurs opportunely to 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOE, CHRISTIANITY. 411 
 
 support an establislied system exercising great 
 sway over tlie minds of men, or a miracle wliich 
 supports a failing cause, cannot be compared 
 witli miracles ^Yllicll appear to have no sucli 
 tendencj^ Just in proportion as the assertion 
 of a miracle is found to be obviously convenient, 
 so is its evidence to be scrutinized more nar- 
 rowly. For example, without entering into 
 the question of later miracles in the Church, 
 it is obvious that the opportuneness with which 
 many supposed miracles occurred is rather a 
 presumption against them. We can see an 
 obvious reason for the promulgation of a reli- 
 gious fraud in such cases. If a certain bishop 
 assembles a council, in which many of his open 
 enemies are gathered, and during its session a 
 part of the room gives way and swallows up the 
 opponents, the obvious inference is that the 
 whole was a trick ; but the strongest opponent 
 of the Christian miracles would not venture to 
 assert, that they presented similar traces of 
 opportune contrivance. 
 
 A. Still, if you are to accept testimony on 
 such a matter, you must confess that you will 
 find a difiiculty in rejecting many notoriously 
 false miracles. 
 
 B. Even if that be so, I do not see that it 
 affects what I have asserted, that evidence 
 
412 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 confuted hy contrary evidence, or any way over- 
 halanced, cannot destroy the credibility of other 
 evidence neither confuted nor oi'crhalanccd. The 
 only thing which can destroy the evidence 
 of testimony is, either that the witnesses are not 
 competent judges of the facts to which they 
 testify, or that they are under indirect influence 
 in giving their testimony. But, if the early 
 Christians saw the facts which they related, we 
 cannot say that they were not competent judges. 
 If they witnessed the cure of diseases, they were 
 perfectly competent witnesses of the facts, for 
 it does not require philosophical acumen but 
 the use of the senses, to take cognizance of these 
 things ; for it cannot be too often observed, that 
 the miracles of Christ were performed under 
 the eyes of the most scrutinizing opponents; 
 and though it may be said that it was not they, 
 but His friends, who bore testimony, still it is 
 plain from the narrative, that even they were 
 only convinced by a repetition of unmistakable 
 acts of power, performed utterly beyond their 
 expectation. Since, then, the only reason to 
 suppose that the narratives were not written 
 by eye-witnesses is the occurrence of the 
 miracles ; since it is plain, that, in very early 
 days, certain remarkable powers existed among 
 the Christians ; since they undoubtedly attested. 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 413 
 
 with their lives, the facts which they related ; 
 and since those facts were such as they had 
 every opportunity of scrutinizing carefulh', 
 we have, I think^ a very strong reason for 
 inferring, that they really took place at 
 the time and in the manner asserted in the 
 Gospels. 
 
 A. You said a short time ago, that the proofs 
 of Christianity were manifold. At present our 
 whole thoughts have been occupied with the 
 probabilities or improbabilities of the Gospel 
 histor}^ I think I could raise many further 
 objections ; perhaps I might accuse your mode 
 of argument of unfairness, in hurrying back- 
 wards and forwards from one part of the 'New 
 Testament to another. I think also I could 
 insinuate difficulties with reference to the Acts 
 of the ApostleS;, which I have seen cleverh^ 
 brought together in a very short compass. 
 However, as my wish is rather to hear what 
 can be said on your side of the question, than 
 to enter into all the details on the other, I will 
 ask you to furnish me with any other evidence 
 which you may possess. « 
 
 B. I should assert next that the fulfilment 
 of prophecy is a very strong evidence in favour 
 of Christianity. 
 
 A. My good friend, fulfilment of prophecy ! 
 
414 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 I should hardly have expected you to use this 
 argument. 
 
 B. And why not, may I ask ? 
 
 A. Why, have we not ourselves seen people 
 utterly demented on this point, seeing in every 
 minute event the fulfilment of things declared 
 centuries before ; twisting and contorting words 
 and facts, so as to detect the shadow of a shade 
 of coincidence between the two. I should have 
 thought, that such an argument was injurious 
 to your cause. Your adversaries will turn 
 round upon you and say, that your process will 
 make anything mean anything, distorts lan- 
 guage, perverts history, and gives rise to every 
 kind of error. 
 
 B. Suppose I grant that the interpretation 
 of prophecy is very often utterly fallacious, I 
 cannot see that that proves that the fulfilment 
 of prophecy, in cases where the accomplishment 
 seems obvious, is an argument of no value. I 
 put the case to you in this way : if a reve- 
 lation is possible, which is not denied, it amounts 
 to a declaration of God's will made known for 
 nlan's instruction. The relation of prophecy to 
 revelation may be viewed as the indistinct, 
 faint dawn which heralds the day. God's 
 truth, though hidden, is by Him revealed 
 partially and in glimpses before it is made 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 415 
 
 fully known ; such, is tlie natural course of His 
 operations. Great principles do not become 
 evident all at once ; indistinct apprehensions of 
 them appear, long before the open recognition of 
 them by men takes place. Now, if the prophets 
 received a partial insight into the future, and 
 announced, in language very general and to a 
 great degree obscure, facts which afterwards 
 were accomplished and principles which after- 
 wards were recognized as true, we have a right 
 to employ, as an argument in favour of Christi- 
 anity, those predictions which correspond to it. 
 
 A. Yes ; but consider, how very slight is the 
 connexion between the things said to be fore- 
 told and the language of the supposed predic- 
 tions. The method by which the connexion is 
 made out is utterly unphilosophical and violent. 
 
 B. However, it must be allowed that the 
 prophetical writers do plainly apprehend, that 
 they are writing of something not yet accom- 
 plished. However indistinct the idea in their 
 minds may be, you cannot read the prophetical 
 parts of the Hebrew Scriptures without per- 
 ceiving, that the writers have a strong convic- 
 tion that they are foretelling events not ac- 
 complished in their times. 
 
 A. Such is my impression, I confess ; but I 
 believe it has been questioned, whether the pecu- 
 
416 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 liar genius of the Hebrew language will not 
 allow of tlie use of the future to denote the 
 past. There is an ambiguity in the use of the 
 tenses of the verb, which renders it difficult to 
 determine whether the writer, in apparently 
 prophetic language, is not allegorically depict- 
 ing the emotions of his own mind, or the for- 
 tunes of men of his own day. 
 
 B. I am quite ready to allow, that this diffi- 
 culty does often occur. ]N'evertheless, no one 
 who reads many consecutive chapters of the 
 prophetic writings, can doubt that the Prophets 
 do believe themselves to be speaking, in great 
 measure, of the future. 
 
 A. I do not think it necessary to dispute 
 your assertion. Whether the Prophets were 
 Tague, enthusiastic dreamers, or truly inspired, 
 it seems quite evident that they considered 
 themselves inspired ; and however much their 
 writings are the result of impressions derived 
 from their own age, no one can deny that they 
 frequently write as of persons and things not 
 yet existent. But this in no way assists you 
 in producing prophecy as an evidence for 
 Christianity. 
 
 B. Perhaps not ; but it may form an answer 
 to an objection which is sometimes heard, that 
 the application of prophecy to Christianity was 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 417 
 
 an after- thought of the Christians to strengthen 
 their position. Such an objection is altogether 
 baseless, but I notice it here, lest it should in 
 any way haunt us afterwards. The belief, that 
 the prophets foretold future events, was held by 
 themselves and was current to the time of the 
 foundation of Christianity, so that it certainly 
 was not invented by the Christians. 
 
 A. To that I make no demur. 
 
 B. JN'ow I say, that in the Old Testament 
 Scriptures, written by various authors, and at 
 wide intervals of time, there is a progressive 
 idea of a moral development of men, a notion, 
 vague at first, and yet very definitely expressed 
 in most unequivocal language, that the power 
 of evil over the world shall at some time be 
 broken. There is also a very distinct impres- 
 sion, that the author of this moral development 
 shall be an individual man. Gradually this 
 notion becomes enlarged; the idea of a king- 
 dom to be established by this man— a kingdom 
 
 over the hearts of men, that shall never end 
 
 is found to be announced by various Jewish 
 writers; these ideas are finally grouped to- 
 gether, developed still further, and clothed in 
 most definite language by two writers, Isaiah 
 and Daniel, of whom the one announces, that at 
 a certain time, specifically though obscurely 
 
 Dd 
 
418 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 intimated, the expected person should die, and 
 the other, in a very elaborate account, describes 
 the characteristics of the birth, life, and death 
 of this person. Beyond this, there are not a 
 few other references to a similar idea to be 
 found in other writers. They are, it is true, 
 extremely obscure and perplexing in their form ; 
 nevertheless, though the language is frequently 
 metaphorical or allegorical, the thing intended 
 is so clear, that long before Christianity a very 
 general impression had come abroad that some 
 great one was to be born. Men were constantly 
 asserting themselves to be the Person thus fore- 
 shadowed, and misleading their followers into 
 all manner of absurdities and enormities. So 
 much so was this the case, that, when the Chris- 
 tians announced that they were the followers 
 of the true Christ, this name had come to be 
 notoriously synonymous with disorderly con- 
 duct and rebellion ; and the men, whose lives 
 are proved by irrefragable evidence to have 
 been quiet and inoffensive, are styled by a 
 grave and usually trustworthy historian '' the 
 enemies of the human race," in defiance of all 
 facts. 
 
 ^. I am perfectly aware that a very general 
 belief was entertained, especially in the East, 
 of the approach of some universal conqueror or 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHKISTIANITY. 419 
 
 deliverer; but the prevalence of such a belief 
 would account for the Christians claiming that 
 title for their Founder. 
 
 B. The point, which we are discussing, is not 
 what could be made of such a belief, but that 
 such a belief was prevalent. 
 
 A. I think there can be no question of that. 
 
 B. Suddenly, in the hill-country of Palestine, 
 a young man, of humble parents and occupa- 
 tion, made His appearance. He was not edu- 
 cated, for His position and the place of His 
 abode, a despised and infamous village,, forbid 
 the supposition. This man maintained for three 
 years a war against evil in all its forms ; His 
 preaching and teaching, though most simple, 
 drew vast crowds to hear Him ; the sentiments 
 to which He gave utterance were of the most 
 exalted moral beauty. Amongst men given 
 up to a literal service to, what may be termed, 
 an unexpansive moral law. He taught a spiri- 
 tual interpretation of its precepts, beyond which 
 nineteen centuries have not been able to ad- 
 vance. His doctrine was not of an attractive 
 or pleasing character; on the contrary, it in- 
 culcated the most rigid self-denial, an intense 
 humility, and a profound disregard for what 
 men most value. His teaching constantly 
 brought Him into hostile contact with the 
 
 Dd 2 
 
420 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 leaders of the people, who eventually accused 
 Him of the crime of aspiring to make Himself a 
 King, and brought Him before the Roman goYer- 
 nor. For this cause He was, though innocent, 
 condemned to death and crucified with other 
 malefactors. Shall you object to this account ? 
 
 A. No ; it seems mainly correct. 
 
 B. 'Now this history, remarkable indeed, but 
 so far as we have traced it, not necessarily 
 miraculous, is found to accord strangely with 
 some of the prophetic declarations ; and, what 
 is more strange, it accords with those parts of 
 them which men had hitherto overlooked. The 
 very points in the life of Jesus which offended the 
 people — His poverty. His origin. His shameful 
 death — are those which most curiously accord 
 with the prophecies of Isaiah. Even in most 
 minute particulars the accordance can be traced. 
 The result of the life of Jesus has been the 
 foundation of a society which has endured ever 
 since. Its principles have moulded the opinions, 
 laws, and customs of all the most highly- civi- 
 lized nations in the world ; the spirit by which 
 it has prevailed has been such as the Prophets 
 describe as gentleness and patience ; and the in- 
 struments of its success are such as to contradict 
 all the maxims of ordinary experience. Yet 
 the Prophets describe such a kingdom ; and 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 421 
 
 their language, frequently obscure, receives a 
 fresh light, when compared with the facts of 
 the Christian kino^dom, 
 
 A. But, m}^ good friend, though your argu- 
 ment soimds well in general terms, when you 
 descend to particulars it is seen to be hollow ; 
 for in the first place, the agreement between 
 the prophecies and the events is of the most 
 general character ; frequently in the same pro- 
 phecy there are other points which do in no 
 way accord with the supposed fulfilment. 
 
 B. If I understand you aright, you mean that, 
 though a certain similarity exists, it cannot be 
 traced throughout ; is that so ? 
 
 A. Yes. 
 
 B. Then we ought not to find any difficulty 
 in this. If you were reading a certain political 
 satire, such as " Eeynard the Fox/' or the 
 '' Tale of a Tub," and found certain points of 
 similarity between events of which you knew, 
 and the writings before you, you would not 
 say that those events were not referred to, 
 because you could not trace every point, but 
 would rightly infer that the difficulty lay in 
 your own ignorance. 
 
 A. But I should require a considerable 
 amount of resemblance, before I acknowledged 
 the accordance between the satire and the events. 
 
422 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. No doubt ; in fact you might never detect 
 the resemblance at all, though it were as clear 
 as the light to those who possess the clue. 
 Nevertheless if the resemblance existed, your 
 not seeing it would hardly alter the case. 
 
 A. To what end do you make this remark ? 
 
 B. In answer to those who say that they see 
 no resemblance between the prophecies and the 
 events. 
 
 A. But if I can find other events, to which 
 the prophecies are equally well adapted, may I 
 not assume that it was these to which reference 
 was made ? 
 
 B. Yes, assuredly ; but you must bear in 
 mind, that you have no right to make hypo- 
 theses as to possible events^ which were intended 
 by the Prophet. . You must only appeal to 
 known facts. When the plain words of a pro- 
 phecy apply literally to the history of Jesus, 
 you have no right to suppose particular events, 
 drawn from the general history of the Prophet's 
 time, or to insinuate that possibly the Prophet 
 was in a certain condition of mind, when he 
 wrote the prophecy. You must meet historical 
 fact with historical fact. 
 
 A. But it appears to me, that very frequently 
 the Prophet has a simple idea in his mind, 
 and your interpreters apply his plain words 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOE, CHRISTIANITY. 423 
 
 in a sense which they do not grammatically 
 bear. 
 
 B. No doubt many Christians have done a 
 grave injury to their cause, by pressing passages 
 into their service which ought never to have 
 been so used. I really believe, that the extreme 
 repugnance to the use of prophecy as an argu- 
 ment^ which many men feel, arises from this 
 indiscriminate employment of materials. It is 
 not hard to trace this to its source. Men who 
 hold the central doctrines of Christianity as 
 of vital importance, run the risk of seeing 
 them where they do not exist. Their e3'es see 
 nothing but Christ; their minds are filled 
 with the thought of Him ; and not a line, 
 not a word meets them, but it seems instinct 
 with reference to Him. To men of well-balanced 
 minds, such conduct appears irrational. A 
 reaction sets in ; and whereas men saw Christ 
 everywhere, presently they see Him nowhere. 
 This may be equally irrational. However, in 
 reply to what you have just said, you must not 
 forget that, if there is such a thing as prophetic 
 writing, the proper analogy for it is not an 
 original book, but a compilation from another 
 man's materials. You must not compare pro- 
 phecy with an edition of Aristotle, but with a 
 paraphrme of Aristotle. 
 
424 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 A. Pray make your nieaning clearer. 
 
 B. I say, that as the paraphrast gives what 
 he conceives to be the meaning of his author, so 
 the Prophets, if inspired, wrote down the 
 results of their inspiration, without completely 
 fathoming the mind of Him Who inspired tliem. 
 Hence it is perfectly possible, that they may 
 have seen only a partial application of what 
 they were inspired to relate ; they may, indeed 
 I will say they must, have known only in part : 
 they could not have plainly seen all that their 
 words convey. Hence it may often happen 
 that their words have acquired a precision and 
 definiteness, from the concentration of their 
 miiid on a single object, to which their language 
 only imperfectly applies ; while in relation to 
 the grand subject of their prophecy, their eyes 
 are partially -darkened, so that they do not see 
 it ; and hence they lay the emphasis on parts 
 of the idea which conform especially to circum- 
 stances of the times, passing over with slighter 
 notice, and frequently introducing, as it would 
 seem most inappropriately, ideas inapplicable 
 to the present, but bearing very strongly upon 
 the more distant events which they are commis- 
 sioned to relate. 
 
 A. There is only one thing which vitiates 
 your whole argument ] you assume that the 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 425 
 
 Prophets were inspired to speak of things which 
 they did not comprehend. This is the very 
 point you have to prove. 
 
 B. No, I do not assume it ; but I argue that 
 if they were inspired with knowledge of the 
 future, then these peculiarities of st3de might be 
 expected ; and I assert that these peculiarities do 
 exist, and find a sufficient explanation in the ana- 
 logies which I have suggested ; but that, on any 
 other hypothesis, they are totally unintelligible. 
 
 A. That is founding religion upon a hypo- 
 thesis, which is utterly objectionable. 
 
 B. No ; the Christian religion, at all events, 
 lays claim to facts and not to supjjositions, as its 
 basis ; and this hypothesis, as you are pleased 
 to style it, is only one among many arguments 
 in its favour. As I have said, every argument 
 must be taken together with others. You 
 remember the old fable of the king, who taught 
 his sons the secret of strength in combination. 
 I do not, indeed, allow that any of these argu- 
 ments are like the twigs, which he broke with 
 ease ; but the whole taken together form a most 
 powerful body of proof, which it is very difficult 
 to resist. 
 
 A. You speak as if you have produced an 
 endless chain of proof, whereas you have really 
 only produced two forms of evidence. 
 
426 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. You must not forget tliat tlie whole of 
 our conversations from the first till now are 
 evidences for Christianity. Every single point 
 that we have established is comprised in the 
 Christian faith. You will say that other reli- 
 gions have held these opinions besides the 
 Christian. This may be true ; but the Christian 
 religion professes to hold all the truths which 
 other religions hold, and to reject the errors. 
 Everything, therefore, which appertains to the 
 unseen worlds to our relation to God, to our 
 hopes and expectations for the future, as well 
 as to our moral duties here, may justly be con- 
 sidered to form part of the Christian religion ; 
 and to this all our conversations have been 
 directed. We have therefore traversed a very 
 considerable line of proof in the course of these 
 conversations. However, it is now necessary, 
 as briefly as possible, to collect the main points 
 of evidence. In so doing, I fear I shall, even 
 more than before, engross the conversation; 
 but I will ask you to interpose whenever you 
 see objections to any of the statements which I 
 make. 
 
 A. Let me hear your statement of the 
 whole. 
 
 B. Well, then, imagine that you come to the 
 study of the Christian Scriptures, in the spirit 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 427 
 
 that you approacli a romance or a tale of fic- 
 tion ; I mean without any thought whether the 
 facts recorded are actual truths or not. You 
 merely wish to collect what is the plot or 
 argument of the whole. You find, then, a 
 history professing to be from the most ancient 
 timesj relating events belonging to a period 
 long antecedent to any other written history 
 with which we are acquainted. 
 
 A. Pardon me for interrupting you thus 
 early; but I must protest against the word 
 history being applied to a series of half- mythical, 
 half- allegorical stories, relating to what occurred 
 before the Flood. 
 
 B. Well, I will not pause to discuss the exact 
 nature of the records contained in the early 
 chapters of Genesis. Possibly there may be 
 less of a concession on our part, than we are 
 willing to believe, in supposing that the earlier 
 chapters of that book are mysterious moral 
 lessons, rather than strict history. At all 
 events, such a concession would not involve the 
 overthrow of the Christian religion, though if 
 it were made, it might necessitate a new inter- 
 pretation of some parts of the New Testament. 
 However, it appears that in very early times 
 the consciousness was felt of man's relation to 
 God a God eternally self-existent (Jehovah), 
 
428 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 and the ruler of the universe (Elohim) ; but 
 that between the consciousness of that relation 
 and its complete realization in religion, there 
 was interposed a bar which kept man from God. 
 This is fiin : an inherent tendency of human 
 nature, utterly unaccountable, and yet acknow- 
 ledged by all thinkers in all ages. In those 
 early times, when, upon the ordinary hypothesis 
 of barbarism, nothing but a degrading condition 
 of sensuality and lust should have been ex- 
 pected, there are some strangely clear traces of 
 a conviction that purification from sin, or, as it 
 it is expressed, victory over sin, should be 
 attained by human suffei^ing. Emerging from 
 the darker tracts of primeval antiquity, we 
 come upon records, which you will say are not 
 historical, of the career of an Eastern Prince, 
 Abraham, in whose touching history, whatever 
 difficulties may occur in parts of it, there are 
 distinct clear traces of the conscious intercourse 
 of the soul with God, of an intense belief in 
 the Unity of the Divine Spirit, of a trustful 
 confidence in the dictates of the religious con- 
 science. This man separates himself from his 
 kindred, who have lost sight of the unity of 
 God, and wanders away into distant lands, in 
 search of a home which he believes that his 
 God has promised to him. Let me pause 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 429 
 
 for an instant to draw your attention to the 
 moral beaiit}^, tlie glimpses of intense nobleness 
 in a character unsurpassed in the whole range 
 of history. 
 
 ^. I do indeed think the character of Abra- 
 ham strikingly beautiful ; and yet I see in it 
 very many faults. 
 
 B. And can you fail to see that the presence 
 of those faults in such a character is the best 
 guarantee for the faithfulness of the history; 
 or that, if Abraham had been morally perfect, 
 the Christian dispensation might never had 
 existed ; for one at least of the objects which 
 we Christians discern in the life of Christ, is 
 the example of perfect moral beauty ? 
 
 A. You do not then deny the existence of 
 faults in Old Testament saints ? 
 
 B- No ; nor in New Testament saints either. 
 It is not a part of Christianity to see perfection, 
 except in One. Nor is there the least trace in 
 the Scriptures of such an idea. However, to 
 proceed. To Abraham a promise is made that 
 his descendants shall inherit the land of Canaan ; 
 and a further promise is given, that from them 
 shall proceed a blessing to all the nations of 
 the earth. 
 
 A. But both those promises may have been 
 inserted in the legends in after-times. 
 
430 DIALOGUE OX THE 
 
 B. It is 2)ossihle, of course, that they were. 
 But observe this : the promise that they should 
 inherit the land of Canaan, may indeed have 
 been invented by one who wrote after the return 
 from captivity at Babylon. But the interpola- 
 tion of the other promise, at a time when the 
 people were drawing more closely together, and 
 isolating themselves more rigorously from all 
 other nations, and the tolerance of such an 
 interpolation by a nation so jealous of their 
 privileges as the Jews, are things almost incon- 
 ceivable. At all events, even if it be an inter- 
 polation, it is a most remarkable one, and points 
 to an expectation, unaccountable except as a 
 traditional heritage of the race. 
 
 A. There is something remarkable in this, I 
 confess. 
 
 B. The history continues to relate the for- 
 tunes of the descendants of Abraham. They 
 wandered into Egypt, and became slaves of the 
 Egyptians, leaving memorials of their presence 
 there in the brick buildings which they erected. 
 From Egypt they returned to Canaan, where 
 for several centuries they were settled. The 
 one condition upon which they were to retain 
 possession of their land, was the maintenance 
 of the worship of the one God, and abstinence 
 from the abominable rites of the heathen. 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 431 
 
 Should they transgress these injunctions, as 
 the author of their books of laws foresaw 
 that they would, their inheritance should 
 be taken away, and they should become " an 
 astonishment, a by-word, and a proverb among 
 all the nations whither the Lord shall lead 
 thee." 
 
 A. This again may have been inserted after 
 the Captivity, to give force and authority to the 
 enactments, which were promulgated as of an- 
 cient date. 
 
 B. Possibly. However, words of the same 
 nature are found in the mouth of men, who 
 lived contemporaneously with, or even subse- 
 quently to the Captivity. Indeed, as we 
 approach nearer to the time of the later pro- 
 phets, the threats held out against the people 
 if they forsake the worship of God, and the 
 promises of future rewards of a highly spiritual 
 nature if they remain faithful, grow stronger. 
 Moreover, about this time, a doctrine, which 
 had every now and then appeared in the earlier 
 writings, began to take a prominent place — the 
 doctrine of a Messiah. We have before seen 
 what was the nature of that opinion. How- 
 ever, it grew and waxed strong, and took firm 
 possession of the nation. The voices of Pro- 
 phets ceased through several centuries ; yet 
 
432 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 still this opinion flourished, until it became the 
 central expectation of the nation. They could 
 not feel that the words of Prophets and 
 Psalmists had received a fulfilment in the 
 person of any of their historical heroes. God 
 had promised a deliverer from the Seed of the 
 woman ; He had assured Abraham of a descen- 
 dant in Whom all nations should be blessed ; 
 Jacob on his death-bed had seemed to speak of 
 such an one ; Moses had prophesied of one like 
 unto himself, Whom they should hear. Balaam 
 had indicated glories upon glories for Israel. 
 David and the Psalmists had given utterance 
 to mysterious words, which no torturing could 
 make to fit their own case. The Prophets had 
 taken up the burden of the song. Neither 
 Samuel, nor David, nor Hezekiah, nor Josiah 
 had seemed to come up to the promised glory. 
 And so the burden of expectation was handed 
 down from age to age. At last One arose, 
 humble and despised, in the very lowliness of 
 Whose lot the mysterious words appeared to find 
 their fulfilment. But the Jews rejected Him — 
 He did not meet their views. His humility, His 
 boldness, the claims which He urged, and the 
 latitude of conduct respecting legal ordinances, 
 which He tolerated, ofiended them. He died a 
 shameful death at their instigation, leaving 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 433 
 
 behind, in the hearts of a few, the practical 
 lessons of a perfect moral life, and the appre- 
 hension of still higher things, which enabled 
 them to found a religion, which in the course 
 of a few years grew to unexampled proportions, 
 and leavened the civilized world. The Jews, 
 who rejected it, were denounced by its Founder 
 in language which reminds us strongly of the 
 early Prophets. And both He and His followers 
 have left on record certain prophetic indications 
 of future events not yet accomplished. This 
 seems to be a brief account of the connexion 
 existing between the various parts of the Scrip- 
 ture dispensation. 
 
 A. And suppose that I had gathered this 
 from the Bible, what then ? 
 
 B. You would find that much of which we 
 have spoken is certainly not impossible or in- 
 credible. There may be gaps, difficulties, even, 
 if you choose, contradictions in the various 
 matters recorded. But taken as a whole, there 
 is much that is true and capable of corrobora- 
 tion ; many things not incredible and falling 
 in with the rest of the history. There is a 
 general purpose in the whole, yet a purpose 
 apparently concealed from the writers them- 
 selves ; for the language of the Prophets not 
 unfrequently betrays a more advanced condi- 
 
 E e 
 
434 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 tion of moral and religious thought, than the 
 language of the earlier portions of the book ; 
 yet it seems plain that the writers are unaware 
 of this. And this, by the way, goes far to 
 dispose of the arguments of those who would 
 trace the Pentateuch and earlier books to the 
 times of the Prophets. 
 
 A. I agree with you in this. 
 
 B. Moreover, you will next be met with the 
 astounding fact, that Christianity did establish 
 itself on the very foundations which the Pro- 
 phets predicted — a kingdom of righteousness ; 
 that it has withstood the shock of many cen- 
 turies, and of countless enemies ; and that the 
 Jews, who rejected it, within a very few years 
 ceased to exist as a nation ; and yet that, 
 instead of being absorbed among other nations, 
 they have remained to this day despised, perse- 
 cuted, and reviled, a distinct and marked race 
 upon the earth. 
 
 A. But you surely cannot regard as mira- 
 culous the distinct existence of a race, whose 
 laws forbid intermarriage with other nations, 
 and whose customs compel them .to remain 
 separate from all others ? 
 
 £. I might even not despair of showing that 
 this isolated circumstance is intensely remark- 
 able. But your explanation only accounts for 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 435 
 
 the fact ; it ignores, what is after all the 
 important things that this isolation accords 
 with words written at least two thousand years 
 ago ; and both the prophecies and the isolation 
 coincide with a long dispensation of Providence 
 of a peculiar nature towards that people 
 formerly. 
 
 A. But with respect to the most momentous 
 question, the references to a Messiah, it seems 
 to me that, with few exceptions, the supposed 
 prophecies would never have been detected, 
 had it not been for the microscopic inspection 
 of the middle ages, or of the early Christians. 
 After the doctrine of a Messiah was once started, 
 the Christian writers found references innu- 
 merable to Him in most unexpected quarters : 
 references very startling to modern ears. If 
 the word " anoint" occurs, immediately the com- 
 mentator sees a prophetic intimation of the 
 " anointed: '' if a description of suffering is read, 
 the foot-note says, " proleptically spoken of 
 Christ :" if a shameful death is referred to, the 
 phantom of the cross rises before the inflamed 
 imagination. Take any of these passages alone, 
 and compare them with the supposed accom- 
 plishment ; and any reasonable man, if his 
 mind were not preoccupied with a dread of 
 blasphemy, would ridicule your credulity. 
 E 8 2 
 
436 DIALOGUE ON THE 
 
 B. But as I have often said, in such a case 
 it is not just to isolate the passages. And I 
 will retort, that if any one says that the latter 
 part of Isaiah does not appear to corroborate 
 the Christian doctrine, his mind is unquestion- 
 ably biassed on the other side : and I will 
 willingly submit those passages to the person 
 to whom you appeal — the fair unbiassed man 
 of the world, not the philosopher who is deter- 
 mined that there sliall be no miracles, and can 
 be no proj^hecy ; but to one, if you can find 
 him, who has no propension^ no predilection 
 either way. With regard to the other isolated 
 passages, I will only say that they are not easy 
 to account for, and that, whatever their value 
 or want of value^ they had a great influence 
 upon the Israelites. However, with reference 
 to the whole argument, let me draw your 
 attention to this, that monotheism, the worship 
 of one God, moral purity, and all the most 
 elevating principles of conduct have passed 
 into the Western world through the instru- 
 mentalit}^ of a nation regarded by their con- 
 temporaries as ferocious barbarians ; a people 
 certainly possessed of a stern and savage 
 earnestness, which, in all their history, plunged 
 them into deeds of sanguinary violence. This 
 nation, though it has given to us the heritage 
 
POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIANITY. 437 
 
 of a belief in God's imifcy, rarely maintained 
 that belief itself in its purity ; though it prided 
 itself upon a literature remarkable at all events 
 for its constant declarations of the universality 
 of God's dispensations, this nation was seemingly 
 unconscious of these liberal ideas, and foujjht 
 against them in its public life, till it became 
 hateful to every other people : cruel itself, it has 
 become the herald of loving-kindness ; remorse- 
 less itself, it has taught men to be merciful ; 
 faithless itself, it has enshrined in its literature 
 the idea of faith to God ; bigoted itself, it has 
 been the propagator of liberal ideas; it has taught 
 men that in the sight of God all alike are equal, 
 and that before Him there is no respect of 
 persons. Such are some of the services which 
 this nation has been instrumental in conferring 
 upon mankind. For Christianity took its rise 
 among Jews, was propagated by them, and 
 professed to be a completion of that which was 
 before unfinished and rudimentary. It did, in 
 effect, carry out such a scheme as the Prophets 
 contemplated, whether their words were merely 
 random guesses at the future, or the Christian 
 religion the production of the combined energies 
 of a few enthusiastic minds. And though you 
 may say that the history is uncertain and un- 
 satisfactory, the prophecies only the utterances 
 
438 POSITIVE EVIDENCE FOR CHRISTIAXITY. 
 
 of enthusiasm, occasionally indicating, by coin- 
 cidence or by poetic instinct, the course of 
 future events ; though the life of Christ may 
 appear to you only that of a wise, good man ; 
 though the founding of Christianity may seem 
 the natural consequence of a world, tired of 
 vice, hailing with delight some gleams of better 
 things ; though its rapid progress may be re- 
 garded as the result of purely natural causes ; 
 yet when you take the whole together and con- 
 sider what has been done, the instruments em- 
 ployed, the connexion between the various parts, 
 the utter incommensurateness of the means used 
 and the results attained, — I think you will 
 confess that Christianity is, of all things upon 
 the earth, the most remarkable. Its history 
 must not be put aside as a tissue of old wives' 
 fables. The whole connecting web, which 
 binds together the Jewish with the Christian 
 world, merits from men of thought something 
 better than the passing sneer, that without a 
 miracle no one could possibly hold the Chris- 
 tian Faith. 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 439 
 
 DIALOGUE YIII. 
 
 ON A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 
 
 B, With the subject of our last discussion, 
 these conversations might appropriately close. 
 Yet when I review the ground which we have 
 traversed, I am constantly reminded how im- 
 perfect has been my attempt to resolve your 
 difficulties ; and yet in my own mind I am 
 more and more assured that the weakness lies, 
 not in my subject, but in the way in which 
 I have handled it. A fear comes over me, lest 
 the cause of truth should have suffered in my 
 hands ; and as I hold others responsible for 
 their intellectual gifts, so I mete out to myself 
 that measure which I demand from others. 
 If God's truth have suffered by my care- 
 lessness, by my neglect of things important to 
 be set before you ; if I have stated with stam- 
 mering lips that which should be spoken 
 clearly and with firmness ; if I have omitted, 
 through want of thought, to enunciate proof, 
 which ought to have lain ready to my hand ; 
 
440 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 then am I responsible not only for my negli- 
 gence, but for the assistance which I have 
 failed to render to you. Or if, on the other 
 hand_, I have unconsciously used that for de- 
 monstration, which is but presumption ; if I 
 have evaded difficulties, or mis-stated facts, 
 then, too, I have an account to render ; and 
 my heart shrinks at the thought, that in my 
 endeavour to declare what I hold, from my 
 soul, to be the very truth, I have uncon- 
 sciously done evil that good may come. 
 
 A. My good friend, I think you are over 
 severe to yourself. Surely if you have done 
 your best for me, a righteous God will not 
 hold you guilty of neglect. No man can do 
 more than that. Besides, upon these purely 
 intellectual questions, all that can be required 
 is that you should state them fairly, and that I 
 should judge them in a like spirit. 
 
 B. Ah ! my friend ; but the thought op- 
 presses me, that I may all along have misled 
 you as to the spirit in which these inquiries 
 should be made. Perhaps if I had stated, 
 at the outset, my conviction that in judging 
 of the works of God, we have no right to use 
 the judicial method of criticism, I might have 
 influenced you more. We are God's creatures 
 and His servants : and the clay has no right to 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 441 
 
 say to the potter, Why hast thou made me thus? 
 AYhat if I have concealed from you the great 
 central fact, that the only condition of reli- 
 gious inquiry is religious earnestness ? What 
 if I have encouraged you to think that we have 
 a right to sit as judges, and not to fall as sup- 
 pliants before the throne of the Invisible ? And 
 yet without this spirit religious inquiry is but 
 mockery. The intellect may remain in sus- 
 pense between the opposing difficulties ; but 
 the real subject of religion, the religious heart 
 of man, may still remain untouched ; and so 
 the end will be the sad and mournful con- 
 dition of those who end in doubt, with no 
 inherent energy to guide them to the Source 
 of truth and love. Who alone is able to afford 
 them comfort and consolation in the trials of 
 life and in the hour of death. What^ I say, 
 if I have been encouraging an inquiry about 
 religion, without the necessary condition of a 
 religious spirit of inquiry ? 
 
 A. In that case I should say the fault is mine, 
 not yours ; for if I comprehend your mean- 
 ing rightly, the religious spirit must spring 
 from within, and it is not in your power, nor 
 in the power of any living man, to implant this 
 spirit in the heart of another. 
 
 B. Still, if you will bear with me a little 
 
442 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 longer, I have somewhat more to say. I will 
 ask you to listen, while I lay before you some- 
 thing of that process by which my own religious 
 convictions have been matured. It may be that 
 you will not be able to acquiesce in what I say. 
 And yet it may not be without its value to you 
 to learn the mental process, by which a fellow 
 man has striven to be true to the reason which 
 God has given him for his inward guide, to 
 the experience on which his reason has em- 
 ployed itself, and to that external revelation 
 which he holds to be Divine. 
 
 A. I will gladly listen to your account of 
 your own religious development ; only, if you 
 will permit me, I will make such suggestions, 
 or objections, as from time to time may present 
 themselves to me. 
 
 B. By all means do so. Here then I will 
 commence my analysis. I assume, then, as the 
 first principle of my inquiry, that the Pheno- 
 menon of Religion is a thing to be investi- 
 gated fairly, and not to be set aside on the 
 ground that, the folly of the people and the in- 
 terested designs of artful men, are sufficient ex- 
 planation of its existence. This at least is the 
 starting-point of my inquiry. I find religion 
 existing in the world ; the idea is not repug- 
 nant to my natural impulses ; on the contrary 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 443 
 
 it commends itself to me^ and I see that in one 
 form or another it has commended itself to the 
 instincts of all mankind. Indeed it may fairly 
 be said that, to use the language of scholastic 
 logic, religion is an inseparable accideni, if not 
 an essential part of the definition of man. 
 
 A. All this seems fair enough and beyond 
 disiDute. 
 
 i?. How then is it that we have this con- 
 natural idea of religion ? 
 
 A. That is a hard question, and the subject 
 of much discussion. 
 
 B. Well, I am not concerned to discuss it now ; 
 for in what I am now saying, I am presenting 
 a subjective picture of the process through 
 which my mind has passed. I assume that God 
 exists, because I, for my part, never could 
 think otherwise ; and to me religion means the 
 knowledge of God, of His will, and of our 
 duties to Him. This knowledge we may learn 
 from our own minds, from the voice of mankind, 
 and from the course of the world. From these 
 three sources we learn the Being and the 
 attributes of God, our prospect of reward and 
 punishment according as we obey or disobey 
 Him. 
 
 A. But can we fairly be said to learn these 
 things from these sources ? Is it not plain that 
 
444 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the majority of mankind do not thus learn the 
 truth ? 
 
 B. Yes ; and the reason of that will become 
 clear in the sequel. When the same question 
 presented itself to me years ago, it perplexed 
 me, as it appears to have perplexed you. But 
 long and patient thought convinced me, that 
 within the breast of man there resides an in- 
 ward principle, dictating what is right, and 
 sanctioning our obedience by the pains or plea- 
 sures which it attaches to our actions. The 
 analysis of the developed conscience may lead us 
 to consider it as complex, and formed of various 
 converging faculties. But I felt that I had a 
 right to assume, that what men of all nations 
 and ages have instinctively recognized as a 
 constituent element of their nature, what has 
 impressed itself upon all language and embo- 
 died itself in the framework of human thought, 
 is natural to man. 
 
 A. I shall not dispute your position : for to 
 some degree I am prepared to acquiesce ; more- 
 over, I am now listening to your own subjec- 
 tive analysis of religion. 
 
 B. Conscience, then, I say, appeared to me 
 to be a sense of duty : and I felt that it bore 
 witness to a Master Who approves holiness and 
 disapproves wickedness. But in so regarding 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 445 
 
 Him, we are looking upon Him as a jiichje. 
 To this cardinal truth the natural instincts of 
 the human race unconsciously direct us. Thus 
 we acquire a notion of retributive justice. It is 
 not the power, nor the wisdom, nor the know- 
 ledge, nor the benevolence of God, to which 
 our original instincts especially bear witness, 
 but to His justice. This is the aspect of God, 
 which lies at the root of all systems of natural 
 religion. 
 
 A. So it would seem. 
 
 B. The next point, which seemed plain to 
 me was this, that, be our duties what they 
 might, our shortcomi)igs far exceeded our 
 acts of obedience. But disobedience demands 
 punishment. Hence arises the notion, univer- 
 sal in the sj^stem of natural religion, of an 
 angry God. 
 
 A. And did not that stagger you ? 
 
 B. No, I confess it did not. For I had, 
 before that time, realized that to be angry is 
 not necessarily wrong. To be angry at injus- 
 tice and to desire that the unjust should be 
 punished for their injustice is, if not a virtue, 
 assuredly not a vice. But seeing that ^;er- 
 sonal malice readily enters into the composi- 
 tion of our sense of anger, seeing, too, that 
 beings sinful in themselves have not committed 
 
446 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 to them the task of avenging wrong upon their 
 fellow-sinners, anger has justly come to be re- 
 garded as perilous and inappropriate to such a 
 being as man. But in the All-Just no such 
 excesses or abuses are to be apprehended ; and 
 stripping the notion of anger of these its ex- 
 traneous accretions, I regard it as an essential 
 part of the idea of justice. But since this is so, 
 the consequence in religion beco'mes obvious. 
 
 A. What consequence ? 
 
 B, How can natural religion regard man 
 otherwise than as oppressed with a burden of 
 sin and sadness ? So it appeared to the ancients, 
 and therefore some among their writers were 
 offended at this gloomy aspect of religion. 
 Such a one was Lucretius. Though we may 
 not share his prejudices, we may employ him 
 as an unimpeachable witness to the fact. 
 
 A. Your statement is precisely accurate. 
 Nothing can exceed the loathing with which 
 Lucretius regarded the dark and cruel religions 
 of the heathen. 
 
 B, No, my friend, do not deceive yourself ; 
 it is not the cruelfy which offended him: it 
 is the universal sense of guilt and sadness, to 
 which the general consent of man gives wit- 
 ness, that awakens his bitter animosity. It is 
 not the ahomimtions of their worship to which 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF HELIGION. 447 
 
 he objects, but the deep painful consciousness 
 of sin, of wliicli those abominations were the 
 misguided acknowledgment. According to 
 him that alone which deserves recognition by 
 the reason of man is the supposed universal 
 principle of love, which he typifies under the 
 personal idea of "gentle Yenus," who alone 
 governs the order of the universe. 
 
 A. Such an idea of creative love would 
 seem to me to be not unacceptable to the 
 Christian Theology, which professes to recog- 
 nize in its God the embodiment of transcendent 
 love. 
 
 B. It is true indeed that Christianity does 
 regard God as love ; but it combines with that 
 idea, as an essential element of its theology, 
 the notion of a God of justice. Lucretius and 
 his school if even in appearance they hold a 
 doctrine resembling that of Divine love in the 
 Christian religion, omit that no less funda- 
 mental idea, to which the universal conscience 
 of men bears witness, that man is sinful, 
 degraded, and separate from God. 
 
 A. But what induces you to assert that this 
 is a natural feeling of mankind ? 
 
 B. For proof of it, I appeal to the doctrines 
 and practices of all nations ; there is no natural 
 religion upon the earth, nor, so far as we can 
 
448 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 ascertain, lias there ever been one, of which 
 this feeling is not the central principle. Wher- 
 ever religion exists in a popular shape, it in- 
 variably presents its dark side to us. In its 
 ceremonial practices, in the doctrines con- 
 nected with those observances, the sense of sin 
 is perpetually made apparent. Thus every 
 sacrifice implies this, at least, that there is an 
 alienation between man and God ; and that to 
 effect a reconciliation an atonement is required. 
 Wherever there is a priest, there is the notion 
 of 8in^ pollution^ and retribution, there also is 
 the idea of intercession and mediation. 
 
 A. But may not the intention of sacrifice be 
 something less profound than this ? Does it 
 not often present itself under the form of a 
 bargain with the Deity? ''For so much ex- 
 penditure on our side, God, as a matter of 
 justice, may be expected to return an equiva- 
 lent.'^ 
 
 B. In some instances this may be the case. 
 But by far the most universal notion is, that 
 the sacrifice is a substitution of something 
 offered, or some personal suffering, for a 
 penalty which would otherwise be exacted. 
 Of this idea the whole religious history of 
 mankind in its earlier stages is a manifesta- 
 tion. The Ilebrew Scriptures, ancient records, 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 449 
 
 modern travels, all bear witness to this uni- 
 versal belief. It exhibits itself, we are told, 
 in the centre of Africa and among the South- 
 Sea Islanders, and has been found to exist 
 among the Aborigines of Australia. Some- 
 times it is the mutilation of the person, which 
 is thought acceptable ; sometimes it is the 
 sacrifice of some much valued possession ; but 
 in all, the same consciousness of sin, and of 
 the need of atonement manifests itself. 
 
 A. But surely the idea is inconsistent with 
 the dictates of that natural conscience, on 
 which you lay so great stress. For if there be 
 one thing more obvious than another, it is 
 the sense of personal responsibility. " The 
 soul that sinneth it shall die; the son shall 
 not bear the iniquity of the father, neither 
 shall the father bear the iniquity of the son ;'* 
 this is the doctrine of the enlightened spirit. 
 That which is past, is past ; it cannot be un- 
 done. No personal repentance will restore 
 what is lost ; much less can the interposition 
 of others on our behalf, or the sacrifice of any- 
 thing, however precious, atone for the viola- 
 tion of our duty. 
 
 B. What you say is very true, and, for a 
 time, it presented many difficulties to me. But 
 on reflection I was led to apprehend that the 
 
 rf 
 
450 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 two things are not irreconcilable. In the end 
 each of us is responsible for his own acts ; but, 
 in the time of probation, it is not impossible, 
 rather it is probable, that assistance may be 
 rendered to us. The idea of atonement does 
 not do away with human responsibility ; it 
 implies that in the intermediate period, which 
 elapses before a final decision shall be passed 
 upon human actions, men are, in some way, to 
 make their own those opportunities which are 
 offered them of reconciling themselves to the 
 Diyine will. 
 
 A. But were you not struck with the fact, 
 that as men made progress in civilization, they 
 shook off many of these primitive notions, 
 and amongst them this doctrine of atone- 
 ment? 
 
 B. Yes, I was ; but reflection showed me, 
 that what is called 2)rogress is by no means 
 necessarily a development of the entire nature 
 of man. As the intellect of the world advanced, 
 I saw that it refused indeed to take cognizance 
 of many things which were acknowledged in 
 more primitive times. But I saw also that it 
 gave no sufficient reason for so doing, save 
 that, as it could not account for them, they 
 were not subjects for human investigation; and 
 then came the sequel that they were barbarous 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 451 
 
 and exploded notions, and therefore to be re- 
 jected. But no sufficient explanation of their 
 origin was given, nor could I find that the 
 scorn of philosophy had ever been able to silence 
 the voice of nature in the human heart. There- 
 fore I argued that, though these intimations of 
 the soul were less attended to now than of old, 
 yet, in all reason, they demanded from account- 
 able moral beings a recognition as being primi- 
 tive declarations of the soul. I could not, 
 without doing violence to my nature, extirpate 
 them from my own mind ; and, as men, who 
 had no theory to uphold or to refute, main- 
 tained and handed on this doctrine, as it were, 
 by natural impulse ; since, too, it is found in 
 various forms amongst nations widely sepa- 
 rated from one another, and unconnected either 
 by language or history, I held that there must 
 be an essential underlying truth to which all 
 these concurring evidences point. Or if I were 
 led to conjecture that these notions were the in- 
 heritance of all the families of the earth, this, 
 even more than the other, seemed a presump- 
 tion that these notions were the result of some 
 unrecorded events, of which the universal sen- 
 timent of mankind had embodied the remem- 
 brance. 
 
 A. Such a presumption is not according to 
 rf 2 
 
452 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the canons of historic criticism : it is, however, 
 not impossible. 
 
 B. I now pass to another sphere of informa- 
 tion. When I had reached this point in the 
 inquiry, I turned my eyes upon the system 
 and course of the world. Being satisfied in my 
 own mind that the established order of things 
 is the work of an intelligent will, that is, of a 
 personal Creator, I turned to look for His pre- 
 sence in the established order of things : that 
 I must discern Him there was certain. But it 
 was with a feeling akin to dismay that I found 
 His action in this world so indirect. Then all 
 those questions, which, in many of our conver- 
 sations we have discussed at length, appeared 
 like spectres to haunt me. Why is God so 
 hidden from our eyes ? Why does He not write 
 His moral nature upon the universe in letters 
 which none can misinterpret ? AVhy are not 
 all men guided to the knowledge of His will ? 
 Why is it not an absurdity to deny His exist- 
 ence, His attributes, His providence? Why 
 does He not walk with us, as He is said to have 
 walked with holy men of old ? Shall I say that 
 God does not exist ? Shall I refuse to listen to 
 His voice, when it seems to speak to me ? Is it 
 a fancy that we see dim shadows of His pre- 
 sence in the affairs of men ? In this perplexity 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 453 
 
 I returned to my own inner consciousness. 
 There I learned, as I thought, that God still 
 exists ; but I learned, too, another fact, from its 
 disquietude, that I am alienated from Him ; my 
 sins " have divided between me and my God." 
 
 A. Again you are guessing, but there is a 
 melancholy resemblance to the truth in your 
 guess. But how could you account for such a 
 growth of sin in a world coming from an All- 
 Pure beinor ? 
 
 B. That seemed incapable of explanation; 
 but I could not perceive any ground to doubt 
 the fact. Suffering, bodily and mental, seems to 
 be the law of universe. Of the thousand millions 
 of men upon the earth at this present time, 
 who can calculate the aggregate misery ? and 
 if we add to this the sufferings of all the gene- 
 rations past, and of all those that may come 
 after, it seems as if some being of malignant 
 nature had gained possession of the fair uni- 
 verse. AYith this impression derived from 
 reflection on the course of nature, all the popu- 
 lar traditions concerning the unseen state, all 
 the superstitions of the ancient mythologies 
 coincide. And such being the universal impres- 
 sion of mankind, I could find no other explana- 
 tion, but that a malignant power was indeed at 
 work to alienate man from his God. Further- 
 
454 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 more, it seemed to me that, if we may con- 
 jecture the future from the past, there is reason 
 to suppose that evil will never disappear from 
 nature. For I saw that disobedience to the 
 voice of justice was itself a misery, and one 
 that man cannot evade ; he carries it about 
 with him wherever he goes, though in the 
 delights of sensible objects he momentarily 
 forgets it, yet it recurs again and again ; and 
 when the sensible pleasures are finally removed, 
 I saw reason to apprehend that the sense of 
 misery would remain with nothing to alleviate 
 its pangs. Moreover it seemed beyond a doubt 
 that the older a man grows the harder he is to 
 change, no wishing can alter him, that there- 
 fore taken by himself, unaltered from his sinful 
 condition, there is no prospect that he will rid 
 himself from the misery which his sin has 
 brought upon him. And this, combined with 
 the conviction which possessed me, on grounds 
 already explained, that the soul of man is an 
 imperishable thing, threw a light upon the 
 awful apprehension of heathen nations con- 
 cerning a future state. I saw, that far from 
 being a figment of Christianity, this appre- 
 hension was the irresistible testimony of the 
 human soul to the eternity of the habits which 
 it forms here on earth. 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 455 
 
 A. It is a sad and gloomy picture of religion 
 ■which 5^ou are here tracing ; indeed one may- 
 well call it repulsive. If this is all that natural 
 piety can do for man, it is not to be wondered 
 at that the nations of the earth turned away 
 their faces from it, and preferred to rest in 
 earthly things. And I must say that even the 
 austerest Christian possesses incomparable hap- 
 piness compared with this. 
 
 B. Doubtless it is severe, and as I have said 
 natural religion wears its dark side outwards. 
 But if you will examine it a little, you will 
 find that even thus, there is much to comfort 
 the soul of man. 
 
 A. How so ? 
 
 B. For what reason it may be asked did men 
 consent, even in the heathen world to forego 
 pleasure, and voluntarily to undergo pain, 
 except from the hope that their sorrows might 
 be alleviated. There was, at least, a hope of 
 future benefit to be derived ; and, this hope in 
 itself was a source of comfort. But beyond 
 this, men had an earnest of this future good in 
 the social happiness from which they were not 
 debarred. With all their sufferings, they ever 
 had much to make them thankful. The love 
 which sweetens human life, which softens the 
 hardest hearts in their better moments, led 
 
456 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 men to the conviction that they were not 
 utterly cast off. In the sentiment of unselfish 
 friendship, of the devoted love of parents to 
 children and children to parents, of mutual 
 good ofiices rendered in the simplicity of pure 
 affection, men were led to see the workings of 
 something beyond a severe justice. Moreover, 
 amid all the difficulties of the material uni- 
 verse, the instincts of mankind have led them to 
 trace something beyond a prospect of punish- 
 ment for their shortcomings. Not only in 
 Christian nations, or in modern times, have 
 such principles as these existed, that treason 
 never prospers, that honesty is the best policy, 
 that the virtuous are happy, even though un- 
 fortunate. The principle which underlies all 
 these instinctive utterances, is that in the end 
 and on the whole, there is good for the good, 
 and evil for the evil. And such a principle, 
 however concealed in practice, has lain at the 
 root of all national life in all ages, and has 
 given the lie to those philosophies which see in 
 the course of the world nothing but chance 
 or physical law. They bear witness, in tones 
 which refuse to be silenced, to an ineradicable 
 conviction that there is a providence watching 
 over human affairs. 
 
 ^. I do not denv it ; it is to me a source of 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 457 
 
 the utmost comfort to believe it, and to deny it 
 would be to plunge myself in the blackness of 
 despair. 
 
 B. And there is another matter to which my 
 attention was drawn. Of all the natural facts 
 which bear testimony to religion, the uniyer- 
 sality of prayer seemed to me the very strongest. 
 There is no nation which has not felt, and em- 
 bodied in its national life, the irresistible call to 
 address the unseen in prayer and supplication. 
 I do not say that the abstract difiBculties as to the 
 effect of prayer are not great. But, in spite of 
 them all, prayer has ever been offered, and it is 
 the natural address of a moral being to one 
 who regards his supplication. 
 
 A. May we not regard prayer as simply an 
 expression of man's wants without any refer- 
 ence to the possibility of having them sup- 
 plied ? 
 
 B. Even then it is an instinctive confession 
 of his need of some one to supply them. But 
 you must remember that prayer is not alto- 
 gether petition. It is sometimes an expression 
 of thanks for benefits already enjoyed ; some- 
 times it is a simple outpouring of a heart full 
 of inexpressible emotions which seek this mode 
 of utterance ; sometimes it takes the form of a 
 declaration of the attributes of God. Any how 
 
458 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 the universal employment of prayer is a thing 
 whicli appeared to me to present two alterna- 
 tives. Either the instinctive tendency is to be 
 utterly ignored as of no value, and called irra- 
 tional, in which case we ou»ht to see sig^ns of a 
 like habit in irrational creatures, which no one 
 pretends ; or it is to be regarded as based upon 
 a primitive inclination of man to adore the 
 unseen, in which case it is a powerful argu- 
 ment for religion. 
 
 A. But do you intend me to discern 
 signs of God's hand in the absurd, fantastic, 
 and contradictory adoration of heathen 
 tribes ? 
 
 B. By no means ; what is universal has a 
 distinct claim to be considered as part of man's 
 nature ; and such is the custom of worship. 
 The fantastic and false developments of that 
 spirit are to be regarded as the perverse or 
 mistaken interpretations given by men to the 
 principles which they find implanted in them. 
 
 A. Perhaps such a distinction is just. 
 
 B. Suppose that there is a God possessing 
 such and such attributes, and you will see that 
 it is certainly just ; for if one form of wor- 
 ship is right, that which contradicts it must 
 be wrong. Contradictions cannot be true to- 
 gether. However, to proceed. As prayer is 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 459 
 
 natural to man, so the expectation of a revela- 
 tion is natural. Every nation, rightly or 
 wrongly, does in its primitive condition trace 
 back its institutions, alike religious and political, 
 to some supposed declaration of the Divine will. 
 I do not mean for a moment to assert that the 
 particular mode of revelation supposed, or the 
 existence of the Divine founders of states and 
 systems is to be allowed ; but I say that the 
 notion of a declaration of the Divine will is a 
 connatural instinct of mankind, and so far to 
 be accepted as a presumption in favour of the 
 possibility of such revelation. No doubt the 
 modes and circumstances of the supposed reve- 
 lations are frequently utterly incongruous : and 
 the reason of later ages has led men to reject 
 them. But this does not alter the conviction 
 that such events may have occurred, though by 
 no means in the waj^s, or at the times supposed. 
 A. The possibility of a Divine revelation 
 cannot be denied by any who believe in 
 a personal God; even the probability of it 
 may be conceded without doing violence to 
 reason. Amidst all the perplexities of the 
 human soul, the idea that God should enlighten 
 it is a ray of light, comforting beyond mea- 
 sure to those who are distressed with doubt. 
 The real difficulty lies in the fact that so many 
 
460 DIALOGUE ON 
 
 men cannot discern His revelation in that 
 which is asserted to have come from Him. 
 
 B. It is ; but as we endeavoured before to 
 ascertain the reasons of this obscurity, we need 
 not now recur to them. One remark more I 
 will make respecting natural religion. It is 
 an indisputable fact, that the notion of inter- 
 cession on behalf of others has always mani- 
 fested itself among mankind. Not only in 
 heathen nations, but everywhere and at all 
 times, men have regarded some of their fellow- 
 men as purer, holier, nearer to God than 
 themselves. Thus, in the Gospel, the man 
 who said, *' God heareth not sinners ; but if a 
 man be a worshipper of God, and doeth His will, 
 him He heareth," spoke the conviction of the 
 human race everywhere. And so the idea of 
 intercession, on the part of the pure and noble, 
 for the weak and sinful, is a part of natural 
 religion to which all men bear witness. This, 
 at all events, is a natural precept of religion, 
 which commends itself to the generous-hearted 
 among mankind, wherever they are found. 
 
 A It is, at least, a beautiful instinct, and 
 lies at the root of all devotion to persons or 
 causes, by means of which the noble lives of 
 men have had their influence in purifying and 
 elevating the human heart. 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 461 
 
 B. Such then are some of the principles of 
 natural religion : the notion of the misery of 
 sin, of the curse which it has inflicted upon 
 men; the doctrine of atoning sacrifice; the 
 expectation of future punishment, inseparable 
 from the idea of future existence; the conviction 
 of the agency of an evil spirit in degrading the 
 human race, and setting it at variance with its 
 Maker. On the other hand, the sense of a 
 justice which, on the whole, awards to all 
 according to their deserts ; the instinctive ten- 
 dency to prayer ; the no less instinctive accept- 
 ance of a Divine revelation ; the notion of 
 personal mediation between God and man : all 
 these things are found in the system of natural 
 piety, however established, and form a remark- 
 able preparation for the Christian religion. For 
 that religion, though containing some things 
 unknown before, yet, in the main, bases itself 
 upon doctrines to a great degree coincident 
 with those here enumerated. It was by virtue 
 of the preparation worked in men's hearts by 
 previous dispensations, whether Jewish or 
 heathen, that men accepted with the utmost 
 readiness the preaching of the Christian Faith. 
 Those were a preparation, of which this is the 
 completion. It does indeed add something to 
 them; but in it nothing is to be found in 
 
462 DIALOGUE OX 
 
 essential contradiction to their principles. Bear- 
 ing tliese things in mind, I felt when I came 
 to the consideration of the Christian Faith, 
 that I had not to deal with a system utterly 
 unknown to natural religion ; if I felt that it 
 contained something hard to be understood, I 
 saw, too, that the most difficult of these had 
 already in outline suggested themselves to the 
 unassisted human intellect ; and if there were 
 others of which this explanation could not be 
 given, it seemed reasonable not to reject the 
 whole, because I could not give a satisfactory 
 account of a part. Such was the spirit in which 
 I approached the intellectual side of the Chris- 
 tian religion. You will discern at once that 
 the point of view of those who come critically 
 to it, without the preparation of which I have 
 here shadowed forth the outline, was not mine. 
 For, indeed, to such persons, every single ques- 
 tion resolves itself into one more remote ; until 
 eventually the point at which they arrive is, 
 " Is there or is there not a personal God, Who 
 speaks to the human heart by natural means, 
 and inclines it, in some degree, to repose upon 
 His fatherly kindness, His sympathy, if I may 
 so speak, and His spiritual assistance ?" Two 
 systems of religion have pronounced in favour of 
 this idea; or rather, I should say, two economies^ 
 
A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 463 
 
 one preparatory to the other, have instructed 
 men in the various phases of this idea. Each 
 of them in its main principles has exhibited the 
 facts of natural religion in clearer and more 
 precise delineation than the unaided reason of 
 men has been able to discern. Each is based 
 upon the sense of sin, and the possibility of 
 relief from the misery of its degradation. Each 
 has made the idea of an atonement a central 
 element ; each has encouraged virtuous living, 
 abnegation of self, truthfulness in every depart- 
 ment of the inner life ; and one of them has 
 been able to adapt itself to every phase of tlie 
 human intellect, and to appropriate the lan- 
 guage and the thought of those systems of 
 philosophy, which have, in any way, travelled 
 over the same range of ideas. The great 
 problems of the human intellect remain, as 
 they were, unresolved, so far as natural expli- 
 cation is concerned ; nevertheless, they receive 
 in this system a recognition, and are embodied 
 as essential parts of the Christian doctrine. 
 They who refuse to accept the doctrines are 
 at least as far from exj^laining the difficulties 
 as they who hold the Christian faith. And, 
 moreover, they can positively give no satis- 
 factory answer to the questions which the 
 human soul is ever asking. The life of Christ 
 
464 A SUBJECTIVE PROOF OF RELIGION. 
 
 and the love of Christ, if they fail to resolve 
 the questions, at least suggest a way of life in 
 which, so far as one may judge, every emotion 
 which can ennoble the heart, every thought 
 which can elevate the intellect has free scope 
 to operate. The conquerors of the world are 
 forgotten, and pass out of mind ; but there is 
 just one name, and one only, which seems never 
 to be forgotten. It is the name of Him Who, 
 nearly nineteen centuries ago, declared that 
 the kingdom which He came on earth to esta- 
 blish was not of this world ; whose power upon 
 earth is felt by countless myriads of the human 
 race, and evinces itself in lives of patience under 
 suflPering, contentment in poverty, humility in 
 high places; which binds together in indis- 
 soluble bonds of brotherhood, the high and the 
 low, the wise and the ignorant ; which has 
 fought the battle of humanity in evil times, till 
 the philosophies which dimly longed for the 
 results now attained by the weak things of 
 the world, proudly claim the effects, while they 
 repudiate the means. It is in this name that 
 we trust ; and looking to Him we feel that, in 
 what form soever antagonists assail Him, in 
 the end He will bring comfort, consolation, 
 and if so be, victory to His faithful followers. 
 
 GILBERT AKD RIVINGTON, PRINTERS, ST. JOHN's SUUARE, LONDON.