»^^' ^i^m W^^^'^^^o" W>lw;y^:'^: i l»i THE METHOD THE DIYINE GOVERNMENT, PHYSICAL AND MORAL. JAMES M'COSII, LLD., PBESIDENT OP THE COLLEGE OF NETV-JERSET, PRIKCETON. NEW-YORK : ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, No. 530 BROADWAY. 1809. " That to the height of this great argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men." Milton's Paradise Lost. PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION We live in an age in which the reflecting portion of mankind are much addicted to the contemplation of the works of nature. It is the object of the author, in this Treatise, to " interrogate nature," with the view of inducing her to utter her voice in answer to some of the most momentous questions which the inquiring spirit of man can put. He thinks it needful to state, thus early, that he proceeds on the inductive method in his inquiry, and not, on the one hand, after the plan of those British Kationalists, who set out with a preconceived system, which they dignify with the name of Rational, and then accommodate all that they see to it ; nor, on the other hand, of those German Intuitionalists, who boast that they can construct the existing universe by d priori speculation. To guard against misapprehension, he wishes it to be binder- stood, that he treats in this book of the Method of the Divine Government in the world, rather than in the Church ; of the ordinary providence of God, rather than his extraordinary deal- ings towards his redeemed people. The reader of severe taste will be inclined to regard the In- troductory Book as too loose and discursive ; and all the apology that the author has to oflFer is, that he was afraid of driving back the general reader, by leading him into the minutiae before h6 had contemplated nature under its general aspect. The general reader, on the other hand, may be disposed to complain, that the style of discussion followed in some of tlie Sections and Notes of the Second and Third Books, is of too abstruse a character. He has to justify himself to such, by stating, that he did not feel at liberty, in such an age as this to Vi PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION. avoid grappling -with any of the difficulties which fell in his way, and that he has attempted, by the principles of a deeper philosophy, to confute the wrong conclusions drawn by a super- ficial philosophy. He has so constructed his work, that the general reader may pass over the more abstract portions (as, for instance, some of the Illustrative Notes) without losing the train of argument. It is due to the memory of the late Dr. Chalmers to acknow- ledge, that had not the author enjoyed the inestimable privilege of sitting for four or five sessions at the feet of this illustrious man, in the University of Edinburgh, he would, in all probability, never have had his thoughts directed in the train which he has followed, and have been without the spirit which he has sought to cultivate, as he would certainly have been without not a few of the principles which he has carried along with him in his inves- tigations. It is with no feeling of presumption that he thinks it proper to add, that did he not imagine that he has some truth to communicate, not contained in the works of Dr. Chalmers, he should not have obtruded himself on the public notice, as it could never have occurred to him, that he was able to state the ideas of his eloquent preceptor so clearly or impressively as he has done himself, in his writings now so extensively circulated. He has to acknowledge his obligations to Principal Cunning- ham, to Professor Buchanan, and to the Eev. Dr. Hanna, for the kind encouragement which they gave him to proceed with this work, when submitted to them for their counsel ; as also to the two last-mentioned gentlemen and the Eev. John Mackenzie, Ratho, for their judicious assistance in overlooking the sheets as they passed through the press. BbechiK; January 1850. PREFACE TO FOURTH EDITION. In preparing this edition, the author has subjected the work to a thorough re\dsion. His aim has been to leave out all that is of temporary, and to retain only what is of permanent interest. Without sensibly increasing the volume, he has introduced new discussions on topics of some importance, both in their theolo- gical and philosophical bearings. As being in circumstances to support them by a large body of facts, he has given in Book Second an epitome of his views and published observations in regard to the forms and colours of plants. In the Third Book, in consequence of having attained, by farther reflection, clearer views of some ethical points, he has modified some of the statements of former editions. In the Appendix he has reluctantly felt it to be his duty to venture a protest against certain principles set forth by the greatest metaphysicians of the age. BuMAgt, May 1865. PREFATOKY NOTE TO EIGHTH EDITION. The work is substantially the same as it was in the Fourth Edition ; but here and there in the later editions the author has referred to errors which have appeared within the last few years, and has also noticed the exceptions taken to certain doctrines of the volume by several eminent men, such as Dr. Mansel and Professor Goldwin Smith. He begs to refer those who might wish to see a professedly more thorough discussion of the philosophical principles involved in the argument of this treatise to Tlie Intuiiions of the Mind Inductively Investi- r/ated; while those who may desire to look into a fuller ex- position of the order and design in the world will find it iu Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation. The appli- cation of the views on God's natural Providence, expounded in this volume, to the supernatural government of God, may be seen in The Supernatural in relation to tlie Natural^ recently published. CONTENTS. BOOK FIRST. eSNEBAL VIEW OP THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT AS FITTED TO THROW LIGHT ON THE CHARACTER OP GOD. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. Sbction I. — The Diflfexent Classes of Objects from which we derive our Idea of God, ........ 1 Sect. II. — Object of the Treatise; Investigation of the Providence of God, and the Conscience of man, or the External and Internal Government of God, ... ... 16 CHAPTER IL GENERAL ASPECT OP THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT ; PHENOMENA PRE- SENTED BY THE PROVIDENCE OP GOD AND THE CONSCIENCE OF MAN, THOUGH COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. S»CT. I. — Phenomena often omitted — The Existence of Extensive Suffer ing, Bodily and Mental, ..... Sect. II. — The Restraints and Penalties of Divine Providence, . Sect. III. — The Alienation of God from Man, Sect. IV. — The Alienation of Man from God, Illustrative Note (a). — The Religious Histoipr of Mankind, Sect V. — Schism in the Human Soul, .... 26 86 40 44 48 64 CONTENTS. CHAPTER in. THE ACTUAL WORLD, AND THE VIEW WHICH IT GIVES OP ITS GOVERNOR. PAoa Sect. I. — Particular Review of the Five Phenomena before specified, . 57 Sscrr. II.— Other General Phenomena, fitted to throw Light on the Con- dition of the World, ....... 66 BOOK^ECOO. PARTICULAR INQUIRY INTO THE METHOD OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD. CHAPTER I. GENERAL LAWS ; OR, THE PRINCIPLE OF ORDER. Sect. I. — ^Different tilings denoted by the Phrase "Laws of Nature;" Properties of Matter, Causes, and General Laws, ... 75 Sect. II. — Adjustment of the Material Substances, with their Properties, to each other, ....... 86 Sect. III. — Special Adjustments required in order to produce General Laws or Results, ....... 99 Illustrative Note (b). — Laws of Phenomena, Causes of Phe- nomena, Conditions of the Operation of Causes — Review of Whewell, 107 Sect. IV. — Wisdom displayed in the Prevalence of General Laws, and observable Order in the World — Correspondence of External Nature to the Constitution of Man, ..... Illustrative Note (c). — Difference between Philosophical Ob servation and Practical Sagacity ; Relation of Science and Art, ....... Seot. V. — Connexion of God with his Works, BEOr. VI. — Infinite Power and Wisdom required to Govern a World so constituted, ....... Best. VIL — Unity of the Mundane System ; Limits to Natural Law, 111 ir.9 141 149 151 CHAPTER II. PROVIDENCE ; OR, THE PRINCIPLE OF SPECIAL ADAPTATION. Si*. I. — Complication of Nature resulting in Fortuities, . . 158 Illustrative Note (d). — Phenomena classified according as they are more or less complicated; Review .of the Positive Philosophy of M. Aug. Comte, . . . ,164 CONTENTS. XI PAGB Sect. II. — Purposes served by the Complication and Fortuities of Nature, 168 Sbcx. III. — On a General and Particular Providence, . . . 181 IiiiusTRATivE Note (e). — Combe's Constitution of Man, . 187 Sect, IV. — Method of Interpreting the Divine Providence, . . 189 Sect. V. — Practical Influence of the various Views which may be taken of Divine Providence — Atheism, Pantheism, Superstition, True Faith, 207 Sect. VI. — Method of answering Prayer, and furthering Spiritual Ends, 215 CHAPTER UL EELATION OF THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD TO THE CHARACTER OF MAN. Sect. I. — General Remarks on the Relation of the Physical to the Moral Providence of God, ....... 227 Sect. II. — Aids to Virtue and Restraints upon Vice, . . . 229 Sect. III. — Arrangements needful to the stability of the Social System, 234 Sect, IV. — State of Society when the Aids to Virtue and the Restraints upon Vice are withdrawn, ...... 241 Sect. V. — Adaptation of this woi'ld to Man, considered as a Fallen Being, 249 SfiCT. VI. — Explanation of the Mysteries of Divine Providence, furnished by the Sinfulness of Man's Character, .... 257 BOOK THIRD. PAKTICULAK INQUIRY INTO THE PRINCIPLES OF THE HUMAN MIND THROUGH WHICH GOD GOVERNS MANKIND. CHAPTER I. man's ORIGINAL AND INDESTRUCTIBLE MORAL NATURE, Skot. I. — ^The Will, or the Optative Faculty — Conditions of Responsibility, 2G3 Sect. II. — Freedom and Responsibility compatible with the Causal Con- nexion of God with his Works, ..... 271 Sect. III. — Distinctions to be attended to in Ethical Inquiry, . . 286 Illustrative Note (f). — Method of Inquiry in Ethical Science, 289 Sect. IV'. — Inquiry into the Nature of Conscience, or the Mental Faculty or Feeling which recognises and reveals the Distinction between Right and Wrong, ... ... 291 Sect. V. — Qualities which must meet in Morally Right Action on the part of Man, ........ 307 Sect. VI. — Practical Rule to be followed in determining what is Good and Evil, ........ 32i Sect. VII.— Tendency of Virtuous Action, .... 326 Sect. VIII. — General View of Man's Original Moral Constitution, as illus- trative of the Character of God, ..... 330 3U1 CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. ACTUAL MORAL STATE OF MAN. PAOI ^ECT. L — Nature of the Judgments pronounced by the Conscience, . 335 Sect. II. — Influence of a Depraved Will upon the Moral Judgments, . 341 Sect. III. — Judgment pronoimced by the Conscience upon the Character of Man, ........ 854 Sect. IV. — Farther Inquiry into the Virtuousness, and more particularly the Godliness, of Man's Character, ..... 361 Sect. V. — Theory of the Production of the Existing Moral State of Man, 372 Sect. VI. — State of the Conscience in the Depraved Nature, , . 379 Sect. VII. — Restraints laid upon Man by the Conscience — their Extent and Character, ... .... 390 Sect. VIII. — On the Evil Effects produced by a Condemning Conscience, 395 Sect, IX. — General Review of Man's Existing Moral Nature, . . 408 CHAPTER m. MOTIVE PRINCIPLES OF THE MIND. Sect. I. — Governing Principles neither Virtuous nor Vicious. — The Appe- tites and Mental Appetences, ..... 416 Sect. II. — The same Subject. — The Emotions and Aflfections, . . 423 Sect. III. — Governing Principles that are Evil, .... 429 Sect. IV. — Influence exercised by these Principles in biassing the Con- science, ........ 436 Illustkative Note (o). — Human Virtues (so called) and Vices running into each other, . . . . . 444 Sect. V. — Summary of the Argument from the Combined View of the Physical and the Moral, ...... 447 BOOK FOURTH. BESULTS — THE KECONCILIATION OF GOD AND MAN. CHAPTER L NATURAL AND REVEALED RELIGION — THE CHARACTER OF GOD, Sect. I. — Advantage of Harmonizing Nature and Revelation, . . 449 Sect. II. — Prevailing Defective Views of the Divine Character, . . . 464 Sect. III.— Character of God as Revealed in Scripture, . . .461 CONTENTS. ZUl CHAPTER II. RESTORATION OF MAN. Bect, I. — Symptoms of Intended Restoration, .... 468 Sect. IL — What is needful in order to the Restoration of Man — (1.) In Relation to the Character of God, ..... 473 Sect. III. — ^\Vhat is needful in order to the Restoration of Man — (2.) In its Relation to the Character of Man. The need of an Interposition in the Human Heart and Character, .... 480 Sect. IV. — Same Subject continued. — Means of applying the Aid, . 487 Illustrative Note (h). — ^The German Intuitional Theology, . 507 Sect. V.— The World to Come, ...... 612 APPENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES. Abt. I. — Logical Nature of the Theistic Argument, . . . 519 Art. II.— On the Properties of Matter, ..... 521 Art. III. — ^Relation between Cause and Effect in the Physical World, . 523 Art. IV. — Internal Belief in Causation, ..... 52T Abt. V. — The Living Writers who treat of the Principles of the Inductive Philosophy, ........ 531 Abt. VI. — Scheme of Intuitive Intellectual Principles considered Psycho- Jogically, ........ 532 Supplemental Art. — On the Phenomenal and Relative Theories of Human Knowledge, ...... 636 Am Til. — Operation of Cause and Effect in the Human iSmi, . , 689 METHOD OF THE DIVINE GOVEMMENT BOOK FIRST. GENERAL VIEW OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT AS FITTED TO THROAV LIGHT ON THE CHARACTER OF GOD. CHAP. I. — INTRODUCTION. SECT. I. — THE DIFFERENT CLASSES OF OBJECTS FROM WHICH WE DERIVE OUR IDEA OF GOD. Suppose that the sun, rising and setting as at present, had been perpetually hid from the eye by an intervening cloud or shade which concealed his body without obstructing his beams, there might still have been a universal impression that a great lumi- nary existed as the cause of the light which daily illuminated our globe. Different persons might have fixed on difierent objects^ as reflecting the light of heaven most impressively ; some on the fleecy or gilded clouds ; others on the lively verdure of the grass and forests, or on the cerulean ocean, or on the rich grain of autumn glistening in the golden beams; but all would have rejoiced to conclude, that there was a sun behind the veil. Though God is in\isible to the bodily eye — though he is, as it were, behind a veil — yet the idea of his existence is pressed on the mind from a variety of quarters. Were it not so, the ap- prehension of, and belief in, a supernatural power or being would not be so universally entertained. The mind that refuses the light which comes from one region, is obliged to receive that which comes from another quarter of the heavens or earth. It may be interesting to trace to its sources the most important conception which the mind of man can form. A 2 INTRODUCTION. First, There are the order and adaptation exhibitkd m THE SEPARATE MATERIAL WORKS OF GoD, An acquaintance with the depths or the heights of science ia not needful, in order to enable mankind to appreciate this ai-gu- ment. Every person who has observed the springing of the grass and grain and the budding of flowers, Avho has taken, but a passing survey of his own bodily frame, or of the motions of the heavenly bodies, has had the idea impressed upon his mind of reisnins order and wisdom. The harmonious colours, and the typical forms of plants and animals, everywhere meeting and delighting the eyes ; the mathematical shapes — as in the hex- agonal cells of the bee-hive, and the numerical relations of parts — as in the organs of flowers, which are ever furnishing a pleasant exercise to the intellect ; all shew that the forces of nature move in numbered squadrons, with measured step, and on a predetermined plan, as if under the command of a presiding intelligence. This argument from the order of the universe was fondly dwelt on by the ancient theists, as delivering them from the two phantoms so dreaded by them — a capricious chance and an unrelenting fate. It has been left very much out of sight of late years in works on natural theology, but must come once more into prominence, now that it is being demonstrated that every part of the skeleton of the plant and animal is constructed after a model form.* The argument derived from the mutual adaptation of inde- pendent natural objects, whereby they co-operate to fulfil an obvious end, has been more frequently urged within the last age or two, and contains still more satisfactory proof of the existence of a personal God, Socrates, representing in this, as ho did in everything else, the philosophy of profound common sense — such as shrewd, observant, unsophisticated men in all ages have delighted in — has led the way in the statement of this branch of the evidence. " Is not the providence of God manifested in a remarkable manner, inasmuch as the eye of man, which is so delicate in its structure, hath provided for it eyehds like doors for protection, and which extend themselves whenever it is need- ful, and again close when sleep approaches ?" " Is it not worthy of admiration that the ears should take in sounds of every sort, * This subject will be found illustrated in Book II. Chap. IV., and in " Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation," by J. M'Cosh and G. Dickie. SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD. 3 and yet not be too much filleil with them ?" " That the fore- teeth of the animal should be formed in such a manner as is evidently best fitted for the cutting of its food, as those on the side are adapted for grinding it to pieces ?" It is pleasant to reflect that God hath so arranged his provi- dence, and so constituted mankind, that it does not require an aquaintance with abstruse science to enable them to rise to a knowledge of God. The boy who lias marked the instincts of birds in building their nests ; the shepherd who has watched the habits of his flocks and herds, and of the beasts of prey that attack them ; the peasant who has attended to the migration of the swallow, the cuckoo, or any other favourite bird, or who has noted the working of bees, their government and order in the hive in which he and his family feel so deep an interest ; have all seen enough to constrain them to acknowledge that there must be higher intelligence to instruct these creatures, which have manifestly nothing in themselves beyond blind and unreasoning instinct. But while scientific attainment is not necessary in order to produce the conviction in the first instance, it is gratifying to find that research, in every department of nature, multiplies the evidence, and exhibits an ever-increasing number of fresh adaptations. Every new discovery in science yields its contribution to the proofs and illustrations of the wisdom, the power, and goodness of God. This scientific argu- ment was prosecuted, as far as ancient physics admitted, by Cicero in his Treatise on tlie Xature of the Gods ; in modern times, it was followed out by Derham and Ray ; at a later date, Paley became its most elegant and judicious expounder ; and it has kept pace with modern science in the Bridgewater Treatises, and in the more fragmentary works of Sir Charles Bell, and other writers. There is nothing abstruse, complicated, or mysterious in the chain of reasoning which leads us to believe in a supernatural intelligence, or rather in the single link which connects the works of God and the worker. It is represented by Dr. Thomas Eeid, as containing in its logical form two propositions — the major, that design may be traced from its effects ; and the minor, that there are appearances of design in the universe.* It is one of • " The argument from final causes," says Dr. Reid, " when reduced to a syl- logism, has these two premises. First, that design and intelligence in the cause 4 INTKODUCTION. the most common of all kinds of reasoning, and is altogether suited to man's habits of observing and thinking. Every man is obliged to proceed on the argument, in the acquisition of necessary secular knowledge, and in the discharge of the ordinary business of life. may witli certainty be inferred from marks or signs of it in the effect. This is the principle we have been considering, and we may call it the major proposition ot the argument. The second, which we call the minor proposition, is, that there are in fact the clearest marks of design and wisdom in the works of nature ; and the conclusion is, that the works of nature are the effects of a wise and intelligent cause. One must either assent to the conclusion, or deny one or other of the premises." (Essay vi. c. vi.) The French Atheistical school, headed by M. Aug. Comte, would at times cast doubts on the second proposition, and explain away some of the supposed marks of design, dwelt upon by writers on natural theology. But in doing so, it may be remarked invariably, that they only succeed in refer- ring a given adaptation to a more general cause ; and they do not seem to reflect that we are ready to follow them thither, and to point out the adaptation there, possibly under a double form, or one adaptation adjusted so as to produce another. When we point, for instance, to the eye, as showing such thought, such care, such refinement, such advantage taken of the properties of natural agents, " and fitted," as Sir John Ilerschel remarks, "to force upon us a conviction of deliberate choice and premeditated design, more strongly perhaps than any single contrivance to be found in nature or art," the Atheist contents himself with saying, that the eye is produced by that law of nature according to which children resemble their parents ; and he forgets that we follow him from the child to the parent, and there discover the very same adaptation; with this farther adaptation, that the parent's frame is so constructed as to be able to produce an offspring after his own like- ness. And all the miserable cavils of the Atheistical school leave a host of traces of design undenied and even untouched. As the second proposition cannot be denied with any appearance of plausibility, they set themselves with most vigour to attack the first, and represent all the apparent traces of design as mere " con- ditions of existence." " The provision made for the stability of the solar system," s.iys M. Comte, "is no evidence of a final cause. The pretended final cause reduces itself, as has been seen on all analogous occasions, to this puerile observa- tion— there are no stars inhabited but those that are habitable. They return, in a word, to the principle of the conditions of existence, which is the true positive tr.ansformation of the doctrine of final causes, and of which the fertility and bear- ing are vastly greater." If there be any logical force in this remark, it must be held as affn-niing that no adjustments, however numerous and strikingly applied to secure an end, can be held as evidential of design. Now let us apply this to the common illustration. We lift a watch, found lying on a bare common, and ex- amine it, and are about to conclude that it must have had a maker, when M. Comte comes to us and assures us that all this adaptation of wheel and axle, of hand and figure, is but the condition of the existence of the watch. True, it is the condition of the existence of the watch, but it is a proof too of a designing mind arranging the condition. We certainly hold the remark to be suificiently " puerile," and tlie sneer reared upon it to be sufficiently profane. " At this present time, for minds properly familiarized with true astronomical philosophy, the heavens dis- sources of our idea of god. 5 Secondly, There are the relations which the thy sic al WORLD bears to MAN, WHICH WE CALL THE PROVIDENTIAL ARRANGEMENTS OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT. Ill observing these, the mind rises beyond mere isolated mate- rial objects and laws, and even beyond the relations between thein, to contemplate the grand results in the dealings of God towards his creatm'es. It is to this latter class of facts that the majority of mankind look, rather than to the other. An ex- tended observation of the nice adjustments in material objects requires a kind of microscopic eye and a habit of fixed attention, such as are not possessed by the great body of mankind ; who look not so much to these as to prominent events cognizable by the senses without any minute inspection, and which indeed force themselves upon the attention ; — the providential care of God, and the restraints of his government, being not so much isolated adaptations, as the grand results in their bearings upon mankind to which these adaptations lead. The common mind, unaccustomed to dissection, can pursue the scientific argument, and the observation on which it proceeds, but a veiy little way ; but this other it can prosecute to a great length. Inquire into the ground of the belief in the existence of God, entertained by the working man or man of business, and you will probably find it, not an ingenious inspection of his own frame or of any mate- rial object, but an observation of the care which God takes of him, and of the judgments with which from time to time he visits the world. It is this more obvious observation which falls in most readily with his habitual train of thought and feeling, and which comes home most powerfully to his heart and ex- perience. The argument under this second head is not different in its logical nature from the former ; but the class of objects on which it is founded is different. It is, as we apprehend, the class of play no other glory than that of Ilipparchus, of Kepler, of Newton, and of all who have helped to establish these laws." No persons were more willing to admit than the parties here named, that the laws which they discovered must have existed before they could discover them, — that the glory belongs to Ilim who established these laws, and to them but the reflected glory of having first interpreted thciu to mankind. Once admit, as we think the rational mind cannot but admit, that adjustments towards a given end, if sufficiently numerous and striking, may be held as proving the existence of a designing mind, and the number and nature ot such adjustments in the universe will at once force upon us the conclusion, that this world is under a presiding intclUgence. — (See Pos. PhiL vol. ii. pp. 28, 39.) 6 INTEODCJCTION, phenomena now referred to, which raises the mind to the idea of a God above nature and ruling over it. " As the consideration of nature," says a sagacious thinker, " shows an inherent intelli- gence, which may also be conceived as coherent with nature, so does history, on a hundred occasions, show an intelligence which is distinct from nature, which conducts and determines those things which may seem to us accidental ; and it is not true that the study of history weakens the belief in a divine providence. History is of all kinds of knowledge the one which tends most decidedly to that belief"* There is gi'ound for the remark here made, both as to the effect usually produced by the contempla- tion of nature, and the impression left by the intelligent con- templation of history. He who confines his attention to the mere structure and laws of physical nature, is apt to speak and think of God as merely a kind of intelligent principle inherent in, and coherent with, nature. It is when we contemplate the dealings of God towards the human race, whether in the events of past history, (to which Niebuhr more particularly refers,) or in those which fall under our observation and experience, that we rise to the idea of a God distinct from nature and above nature, controlling and governing it. "God," says Leibnitz, " has the qualities of a good governor, as well as of a great architect."f The physical inquirer discovers the qualities that indicate the latter of these, and speaks of God as a great archi- tect, as an ingenious mechanician, or an unrivalled artist. It is from a survey of the events of providence, being the combination and results of those laws which the man of science investigates severally, that we rise to enlarged views of the Governor of the universe. Thirdly, There is the human soul, with its consciousness, its intelligence, and its benign feelings. A reference is made to these at present, not as the agents by which the process of proof is conducted, but as the objects con- templated, and on which the proof rests. The human reason, with its intuitive or logical laws, must be the instrument em- ployed in every branch of the argument, and whatever be the data on which it proceeds ; but in the case now before us, reason finds its data in the mind itself. * Nicbulir's Lectures, vol. i. p. 146. f Essays on tlie Goodness of God, P. iii SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD. 7 It is never to be forgotten, that, apart from a reflex contem- plation of the human mind, it is impossible to rise to the con- ception of a living and intelligent God. It is in the soul, small though it be when compared with the object reflected, that we are to discover most distinctly represented the image of a spiri- tual God. Without taking human consciousness and intelligence and feeling into view, God could be conceived of as a mere principle of mechanism or order in nature, as a power of fate, or a law of development in or above nature, (as with Schelling,) rather than a real and living agent. It is the possession of con- sciousness and intelligent purpose by man that suggests the idea of a conscious and a personal God. From what we have our- selves experienced, we know that intelligence is needful, in order to produce such effects as exist in nature around us ; and thence we rise in our conceptions to a living soul presiding over the universe and regulating it, not according to a mere law of me- chanism or development, but by the wisdom of spiritual intelli- gence and love. The very existence of the human soul as a created object, which it evidently is, implies an intelligent soul as its creator, and that a soul of vast power and great intelligence. If the creation of the beautiful forms of matter argues an extraordinary power and skill, surely the creation of spiritual intelligent being is fitted to impress us still more with the knowledge and wisdom of the Creator. Some think that the proof of the existence of God, derived from the mind of man, can be stretched much farther ; and they find in the depths of the soul, and among its necessary ideas, what they reckon the most solid and conclusive of all arguments. There are ideas carrying with them a feeling of necessity, such as those of infinity, of immensity, and eternity, which seem to point to a being necessarily existing, and to whom these qualities can be ascribed as attributes.* But for the purpose at present * In musing on divine things, it occurred to the meditative spirit of Anselm, tliat it might be possible to find a single argument complete in itself, and needing no other for its confirmation. Man is able to form a conception of something, than which nothing greater can be conceived ; and Anselm argues, from the very nature of the conception, that this something must exist in reality, as vrell as in the intelligence. Descartes, in prosecuting his method of proving every other truth from a single principle of consciousness, has constructed a similar argument. R INTRODUCTION. in view, it is enough to insist that it is by the human conscious- ness and intelligence that the idea of a personal, a spiritual, and an all-wise God is suggested, and by which there is furnished the most convincing evidence of his being, and of some of his highest perfections.* Fourthly, There are the moral qualities of man. We refer more particularly to the conscience. This conscience is in all men. Man has not only powers of understanding, such as the memory, the imagination, and the judgment — not only feelings and emotions, such as love, hope, fear — he has likewise a higher faculty of sense, which judges by its own law of every other principle of the mind, and claims authority over it. Just as all men think and reason by the powers of the understanding, and as all men feel by their emotional nature, so all men have some sense (it may be very faint and imperfect) of the distinction between good and e^dl, by means of the moral power or powers with which God has endowed them. For the proof of the existence of the conscience, we appeal v/ith Butler and Mackintosh to the consciousness. We have only to compare our nature with that of the brute creation, to discover at once that there is some such principle in the human mind. The lower animals we find so far resembling man that they are possessed of certain appetites and propensities, but they have no regulating, in short, no moral principle. Following and gratify- ing their spontaneous impulses, they find that no blame attaches to them, and that they are troubled by no reproaches or com- punctions of conscience. But let man proceed to gratify the He argues that the very idea in the mind of the infinite, the perfect, implies the existence of an infinite and a perfect being. Dr. Samuel Clarke has given a more elaborate demonstration. He maintains that, because something now exists, something must have existed from eternity; that there cannot have been from eternity a succession of changeable and dependent beings ; and that as the mind cannot get rid of the ideas of infinite space and time, so there must be an infinite and eternal substance of which these are modes. We doubt much whether th<;se ideas or principles in man's mind do of themselves prove the existence of a living Qod ; but when his being has been established otherwise, as by the argument from order and design, they lead us to clothe him with infinite perfections. (See Pros- logion of Anselm ; Descartes' Method, P. iv., and Meditations, iii. ; Clarke on Attributes.) * See some remarks on the Logical Nature of the Theistic Argument is Appendix I. SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD. 9 appetites and passions of his nature to excess, and in an irregular way, and he meets with some check, (it may be a feeble one,) warning him at the time, and followed by reproach ; something which, if it does not proclaim aloud, at least whispers in accents loud enough to be heard, that he is doing wrong. Unable, it may be, to stem the strong current of the evil passions, this con- science is among them like a breaker in the midst of the stream, which, if it does not stop the torrent, at least announces its own existence and its purpose by the agitation which it produces. Now, the conscience is a ready and powerful means of sug- gesting the idea of God to the mind. We believe that it is by it, rather than by any careful observation of nature, material or spiritual, that mankind have their thoughts directed to God. It is not so much by what he sees around him, as by what he feels within, that man is led to believe in a ruler of the world. A. conscience speaking as one having authority, and in behalf or God, is the monitor by which he is reminded most frequently and emphatically of his Governor and his Judge. It seems to be possible to build, upon the very fact of the existence of the conscience, an independent argument in favour of the being of God. The existence of the law in the heart seems to imply the existence of a lawgiver. Whatever may be thought of this, it is certain that the con- science affords evidence that God, proven on other grounds to exist, must approve of moral excellence. We are constrained to believe that he, who planted the conscience in our bosoms, loves the virtue which it would lead us to love. We are forced to the conclusion, that he who stirred up these reproaches in our breasts, himself hates the sin which they would lead us to hate. By the analogy of human design, we infer in the universe the operation of a mightier designer ; and by the analogy of man's moral sentiments, we conclude that the Creator of the universe is po£:-;e.>sed of those moral qualities by which he is not only the maker rrad sustainer of all things, but their righteous Governor and their Judge. Now, such seem to be the four natural sources from which the human mind derives its idea of the Divine Being.* Viewed * In fact, the idea of God is commonly first suggested by parents or guardians, who, again, may have derived it from tradition or revelation. But when the mind begins to think for itself, it finds evidence and illustration in the way we havo pointed out. The Scriptures declare, that some knowledge of God can be derived 10 INTRODUCTION. separately, the arguments drawn from these sources are not all conchisive, or equally conclusive ; one may be considered, per- haps, merely as suggestive, and another as confirmatory ; one as a proof of the existence of God, and another as an illustration of the possession of certain attributes. Each class of objects furnishes its quota of evidence. The physical works of God give indications of power and skill. Tho providence of God exhibits a governing and controlling energy. Our spiritual natures lift us to the conception of a living, a per- sonal, and spiritual God. These three classes of objects, (defemng the consideration oi the fourth for a little,) as bringing before us nature animate and inanimate, and the relation between them, establish the bene- volence as well as the wisdom of God. The phenomena which prove the existence of God, also demonstrate that he delights in the happiness of his creatures. For it is conceivable that the world might have been filled with adaptations as wonderful as any of the existing ones, but all of them of a diametrically opposite character. The exquisitely formed joints of the animal frame might, in the very delicacy of their organism, have com- municated the more exquisite pain. The plants of the earth might have grown to nourish the bodies of animals, only as the food spread through the organs to torture every member. The sunbeams, instead of gladdening all nature, might have struck every living being as with a succession of spear-points to harass and annoy. How delightful to find that every adaptation indi- cating design also indicates benevolence, and that we have as clear evidence of the goodness as of the very existence of God ! Let it be observed, too, that, proceeding upon these classes of objects, the mind, as its general conceptions expand, will also have its idea of God expanded. When nature is viewed in a narrow spirit, it may leave the impression that there is an un- seemly warfare, and that there are numberless contradictions in the universe. The flowers which spring up to-day are blighted on the morrow. The product of the sunshine and the dews is often destroyed by the storms. The winds of heaven, and the waves of the ocean, look at times as if they delighted in con- tending with each other. Hence we find the heathens placing from nature, and they come to us as the word of God. Rom. i. 20—" For the visible things of God are clearly seen," &c. SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD. 11 a separate god, with a distinctive character and purpose, over every separate element. There is the god of the rivers, the god of the whids, and the god of the ocean, and these are supposed to feel pleasure in thwarting and opposing each other. The light of knowledge, as it rises, dispels these phantoms, and dis- closes, among apparent incongruities and contentions, a unity of purpose indicating a unity of being in the Creator and Governor of all things. Modern research has served to expand this conception by pointing out the links — often invisible at the first glance — which connect every one part of God's works with every other, and thereby demonstrates that all nature has been fabricated by one hand, and is governed by one Lord, It is being established that every part of the plant and animal has been constructed after a pattern form, and that there is a unity of plan running through all organized beings. The same Being who made man, formed, it is evident, the animals which minister to his comfort. Animal life, again, is dependent on vegetable life, and vegetable life is dependent on the soil and atmosphere ; and thus the wide earth is seen to be one great whole. But terrestrial objects are also dependent on the seasons, and the seasons are produced by the relation between the earth and the sun ; and the great whole is thus enlarged so as to include the sun. The strength of the animal muscles is suited to the size of the earth ; and the con- tinued existence of the plants of the earth, and of animal life, is dependent on the length of the day and of the year, and these are occasioned by the laws and adjustments of the solar system. The solar system, again, is manifestly connected in the government of God with other systems ; for it appears that our sun is advancing nearer to certain stars, and moving away from others, and that in obedience to laws which regulate other suns and systems of suns. This line of argument stretches out to the most distant parts of the known universe. He who made the muscle of my limb, made the earth on which I walk, and the great luminary round which the earth revolves, and the grand galaxy in which the sun moves. He who made my eye, made the light which comes to it ; and he who made the light, made the sun which sheds that light, and also the distant star, which has taken thousands of years to send its rays across the Immeasurable space that inter\'enes. 12 INTEODUCTION. Such phenomena help us to comprehend, so far as finite crea- ture can comprehend, the omnipresence of God. The human imagination, bold and venturesome though it be, feels as if it could not penetrate the depths of space which astronomy dis- closes. Its wing becomes weary when it has reached distances which light requires many thousand years to traverse. Geology, again, as has been remarked, does for time what astronomy does for space, and leads back the mind into a past eternity, far as it is able and willing to follow. And it is not to be overlooked, that, altogether independently of such physical discoveries, the mind, by its own native power, can reach widely into the infinite. " Think of space, we see it stretching beyond the world, beyond our system, beyond the farthest limits of creation ; and every bound we affix to it only carries us to the unbounded beyond. Think of time, all the limits of duration do but suggest the illimitable eternity. Think of dependent existence, and we sink lower and lower from one stage of dependence to another, till we rest only in the indepen- dent, the absolute. Think of finite being, what is it but an endless paradox without infinite being ? Think of cause, what does it end in but the causa caiisarum, the spring and source ot all things ?'"^ " As the idea of God is removed farther from humanity and a scattered polytheism, it becomes more intense and profound as it becomes more universal, for the infinite is present to every- thing. If I fly into the uttermost parts of the earth, it is there : also, if we turn to the east or the west we cannot escape from it. Man is thus aggrandized in the image of his Maker."f Still, when it has reached this point, and combined these three classes of phenomena, the human mind is not satisfied, for it feels as if there must be much in the character of God on which these objects can cast little or no light. In particular, it * Morell's Modern Philosophy. Note. 2d Edit. It is at this place, if we do not mistake, that the idea of the Infinite so much dwelt on by the German philo- sophers, comes in. The capacity of the human mind to form such an idea, or rather its intuitive belief in an Infinite, of which it feels that it cannot form an adequate conception, may be no proof (as Kant maintains) of the existence of an Infinite Being, but it is, we are convinced, the means by which the mind is enabled to invest the Deity, shewn on other grounds to exist, with the attribute of Infinity ; that is, to look on his being, power, goodness, and all his perfections as infinite. t Hazlitt. SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD, 13 is anxious to know what are his moral quaUties, and what the moral relation subsisting between him and man. There are, besides, doubts and perplexities which the mind must entertain, but which it feels that it cannot solve. Why these afflictive dispensations of the Divine Providence ? Why such extensive suffering ? Why such a separation between man and his Maker ? The mind feels as if it must have left some element out of calculation ; nor will it rest satisfied till, by the aid of the moral law in the heart, (being the fourth object,) it rises to the contemplation of a God who loves virtue and hates vice, and whose government is all ordered with the view of encouraging the one and discouraging the other, and this by reason of a perfection as essential to his nature as his omnipresence or his benevolence. It requires an observation of the whole of these four classes of objects to convey a full and adequate idea of the Di\dne character. Leave out the first, and we have no elevating idea of the divine skill and intelligence. Sink the second out of sight, and the God that we acknowledge cannot be distinguished from the universe. Leave out the third, and he becomes a brute unconscious force, or at best a mere name for an aggregate of laws and developments. Discard the fourth class of objects, and we strip him of some of the very brightest rays of his glory, and leave a physical without a moral power, and a weak bene- ficence unguarded by justice. When the mind is fixed on any one of these groups to the exclusion of the others, the conception becomes limited, partial, and so far erroneous. When it thinks only of the physical works of nature, it is apt to conceive of their Maker as a mere mecha- nical power. When confined to his providence, it regards nothing beyond his foresight, his sagacity, and the sovereignty of his will. Li looking simply at his spiritual nature, his close and intimate connexion with his creatures is forgotten. When conscience is the sole monitor, he is regarded by his sinful creatures with unmingled feelings of awe and fear. The mere physical inquirer does not rise beyond the idea of skiJ and con- trivance. The believer in an exclusive Providence makes his Deity guilty of favouritism and caprice. Those who look solely to the spiritual nature of G8d are tempted to remove him into a region of dreamy meditation and useless affection. The religion of conscience lands us in superstition and will-worship. 14 INTRODUCTION. Not unfrequently a few objects belonging to a particular class are fixed on, and the view may become contracted to the very narrowest point ; and God (as among the Caffres) may be re- garded as little more than a rain-sender, or there may be no- thing beyond a vague conception, suggested by the conscience, of some power that is to be dreaded because of the evil which it may inflict. The beautiful rays coming from the face of God, and shining in such loveliness around us, are reflected and refracted when they come in contact with the human heart. Each heart is apt to receive only such as please it, and to reject the others. Hence the many-coloured aspects, some of them hideous in the extreme^ in which God is presented to different nations and individuals. Hence the room for each man fashioning a god after his own heart. An evil conscience, reflecting only the red rays, calls up a god who delights in blood. The man of fine sentiment, re- flecting only the softer rays, exhibits from the hues of his own feelings a god of mere sensibility, tender as that of the hero of a modern romance. The man of glowing imagination will array him in gorgeous but delusive colouring, and in the flowing drapery of majesty and grandeur, beneath which, however, there is little or no reality. The observer of laws will represent him as the embodiment of order, as blank and black as the sun looks when we have gazed upon him till we are no longer sensible of his brightness. It is seldom in the apprehensions of mankind that all the rays so meet as to give us the pure white light, and to exhibit God, full orbed in all his holiness and goodness, as the fountain of lights in whom is no darkness at all. It is a favourite maxim of not a few living philosophers, as, for example, of M. Cousin, that error is always partial truth. That it frequently is so cannot be doubted. But this circum- sfcmce should not be urged, as these parties sometimes employ it, to excuse error. It ought at least to have been remarked, that partial truth is often the most dangerous of all errors. Every one knows how a garbled quotation may be the most effectual perversion of an author's meaning, and how a partial representation of an incident in a man's life may be the most malignant of all calumnies. It ii in taking a partial view of truth that human prejudice finds the easiest and most effectual method of gaining its end. If persons do not wish to retain SOURCES OF OUR IDEA OF GOD. 15 God in their knowledge, they can easily contrive to form a god to their own taste, by directing their eyes to certain objects, and shutting them to all others. " Man," says one of the most ingenious and profound writers of these latter days — we mean Vinet — " has never failed to make a god of his own image, and his various religions have never surpassed himself ; for, if by these he imposes on himself acts and privations which he would not otherwise impose, those toils which are of his own choice do not raise him above him- self. Hence those religions do not change the principles of his inner life : they subject him to an external sway only to leave him free at heart," Our ideas of God thus originating in our own hearts can never be made to rise higher than the fountain from which they have flowed. Hence the need of a revelation from a higher source to make known a God, not after the image of man, but a God after whose image of heavenly descent man may remodel his character, and thereby exalt it to a heavenly elevation and brightness. Nor will the progress of secular knowledge counteract this native tendency of the human heart. It may direct the stream into a new channel, but it cannot dry up the native propensi- ties of the heart in which this inclination originates. The fundamental human error, which assumes one form in the ruder and uncivilized ages and nations of the world, takes another shape in those countries which have made greater progress in the arts and sciences. Polytheism vanishes only that pantheism may take up its place ; and the sole diflference between them is, that while many errors lodge in the former, all errors take refuge in the latter. God ceases to be regarded with supersti- tious awe ; but it is only that he may be esteemed a mechanical force, a philosophic abstraction, or a splendid imagination, as gorgeous, but as unsolid too, as a gilded cloud. In the former case, God did possess an influence on the character, at times for evil, but at times for good : under these latter aspects, he exer- cises no influence whatever, but is a nonentity in power, as he is conceived to be a nonentity in reality. Of the four souices from which mankind derive their idea of God, the fii-st and" the third are attended to with greater or less care by the thinking mind of the present day. Hence we find that, in the common views of the Divine Being, there are ex- 16 INTRODUCTION. alted conceptions of his power, wisdom, and goodness, and of his nature as a spiritual intelligence. It may be doubted, how- ever, whether the second and fourth classes of objects have been so habitually contemplated, or whether they have not, to some extent at least, been overlooked. In some former ages it might liave been more needful to elevate the popular view of the Divine intelligence and goodness and spirituality, by means of the works of God in the physical and mental worlds. In the present age it may be more beneficial, after the light which has been thrown on these topics, to direct attention to the pheno- mena which speak of the wise, the benevolent, and righteous Governor. At certain times, and in certain countries, the reli- gion of authority and the religion of conscience have had too extensive sway; but in modern Europe, with the bond'j of government loosened,* and the free assertion of the rights of man, there has been a greater tendency to sink the qualities of the Governor and the Judge. We propose in this Treatise to give the Government of God its proper place, and bring it out into full and prominent relief. SECT, II. — OBJECT OF THIS TREATISE ; INVESTIGATION OF THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD, AND THE CONSCIENCE OF MAN, OR THE EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL GOVERNMENT OF GOD. There are two important classes of phenomena to pass under notice in this Treatise. The first is ^presented in tlie physical world in its relation to the constitution and character of man, or ivhat lue may call the providence of God. The second is presented in the constitution and character of man in their relation to God, and more 2:iarticidarly the moral facidty or moral sense. We use this general language, because, so ftir as the object at present contemplated is concerned, we do not care by what name this moral quality of our nature may be designated — whether it be called the moral sense or the moral faculty — the conscience, or the law in the heart. By whatever name it may be distinguished, this property is certainly one of the most wondrous in our mental constitution. The workings of conscience in the soul, besides furnishing a curious subject of * Thiers says, that now " kings reign, but do not govern." OBJECT OF THIS TREATISE. 17 inquiry, carry us clown into the very clcptbs of our natuie, and thence upwards to some of the highest of the Divine l^crfections. The external and internal governments of God arc thus to pass under review ; and truly we know not how the full charac- ter of God can be gathered from his works witliout a careful survey of both these departments of his operations. A great number of works, distinguished for learning and ability, have been written in our age to demonstrate the exist- ence of God, and illustrate such perfections of his nature as his power, his benevolence, and his wisdom. But while these treatises have established to the satisfaction of every mind capable of conviction that a God exists, and that he is possessed of a certain class of attributes, the most of them do not exhibit, and do scarcely profess to exhibit, to our view the complete character of God. Natural theologians have drawn the proper inference from the particular laws and nice adaptations of part to part to which their attention has been called ; but they have not studied the general combinations, or the grand results in the providence of God; and the view which they have given of the Divine character is contracted, because their field of observation is narroAv and confined. Enlarging the sphere of vision, and viewing the separate machinery as com- bined in God's providence, we hope to rise to a fuller and more complete conception of the character of God, than can possibly be attained by those whose attention has been confined to isolated fragments and particular laws, such as fall under the eye of the physical inquirer, or of the theologians wdio use the materials which physical research has furnished. Natural theology is the science which, from an investigation of the works of nature, would rise to a discovery of the character and will of God, and of the relation in which man stands to him. In prosecuting this science, the inquirer proceeds, (or should proceed,) in the same way as he does in every other branch of investigation. He sets out in search of facts ; he ar- ranges and co-ordinates them, and rising from the phenomena which present themselves to their cause, he discovers, by the ordinary laws of evidence, a cause of all subordinate causes. But in following such a method it is required that we do not overlook any of the more important fiicts. An omission of an B 18 INTEODUCTION. essential circumstance in the premises, or in taking down the data of the problem, must issue in a perplexing defect or fatal blunder in the result. Tliere is nothing wonderful in the circumstance, that the theologians of nature have not, in their researches, seen the higher moral qualities of God ; for they could not expect to find any traces of them in the territories which they have visited. When we wish to ascertain the moral character of a fellow-man, we look to something else than his mere works of mechanical and intellectual skill. These can exhibit nothing but those qualities from which they have sprung — the ability of the hand or of the understanding ; and when we are bent on knowing hia character, we inquire into the use which he makes of his talents, and of the products and results of them, and generally into his conduct towards other beings, towards God and towards man. Our natural theologians have acquired about as enlarged and accurate a view of the higher perfections of the Divine Being, as they might obtain of the moral and religious character of an architect by inspecting the building which he had planned ; of an artisan by examining the watch constructed by him ; or of a husbandman, by walking over the field which he has cultivated. A visit paid to the workshop of an ingenious mechanic may bring under our notice all the qualities of the fine workman ; but meanwhile, we have no materials to guide us in forming an idea of his kindness or his integrity, his temperance or his god- liness. In order to discover whether he possesses these qualities, we must inquire into tlie use which he makes of the fruits of his ingenuity ; we must follow him into the busy market and the social circle, into his family and his closet. Now, if we would discover the infinitely glorious moral perfections of the Supreme Being, we must in like manner enter other regions than those into which the mere classifier of the laws of nature would conduct us. In investigating the laws of inanimate na- ture, we may expect to find — and we do find — innumerable traces of lofty intelligence ; in examining the different parts of the animal frame, we may hope to find marks — and we discover them in abundance — of that benevolence which makes the pos- sessor delight in the happiness of sentient being ; but if we would discover the justice and holiness of God, and the qualities which distinguish the righteous and benevolent Governor, we OBJECT OF THIS TEEATISE. 19 must look to the bearing of his works and dispensations r.n the state and character of man. In conducting this inquiry, we shall find ourselves in the midst of a topic of most momentous import, but from which modern scientific men have generally drawn back,' as if they felt unable or unwilling to grapple with it, because too high for their understanding to rise to it, or too humbling to their pride to stoop down to it. The subject referred to is the relation in which God stands towards man. Our literati and secular philo- sophers are, in general, willing to acknowledge that a God exists ; but they have very confused and ill-assorted ideas as to the re- lation in which he stands towards the human race. Yet surely this latter subject is not inferior in philosophical interest or practical importance to the other, or indeed to any other. The character of God cannot well be understood by us till we consi- der it in its relation to man. How do I stand in reference to that Being, of whose greatness and goodness I profess to enter- tain such lofty ideas? How does He stand affected towards me ? We know not if the settlement of the question of the existence of God be to us of greater moment than the settlement of this other question, What is the relation in which we stand to Plim ? This is certain, that the settlement of the one question should instantly lead to the settlement of the other ; and the inquirer has stopped half-way, and acquires little that is truly valuable, nothing satisfactory to the heart, till he pursue his re- searches into this second field Avhich lies contiguous to the other. This second inquiry must bring under our special notice and consideration the character of man, not, it is true, metaphysically or analytically, or in all its aspects, but in its bearings towards God. The consideration of the nature of man, and more par- ticularly of his moral qualities, will again conduct us upward tc the contemplation of the rectitude or the moral excellence of God. It is by placing the two together, the character of God and the character of man, as it were in juxtaposition, the one over against the other, that we can best understand both. This rela- tion of God and man, the one towards the other, is the depart- ment of divine and human knowledge in which, in our humble opinion, this generation has most need to be instructed. We live in an age which boasts of its light and knowledge ; but it may be doubted how far those who are most disposed to 20 INTRODUCTION. be vain-glorious, have, after all, very deep or comprehensive views of the character of the Deity, We laugh at the narrow and superstitious views entertained of God by savage nations, and in the darker ages of the history of the world ; but perhaps we might be as profitably employed in inquiring whether we have ourselves attained to ideas that are correct and adequate. In this, or indeed in any age, there are comparatively few dis- ])osed absolutely to deny the existence of a superior or a supreme Being. We would not say that the idea of, and belief in, the existence of God are innate in, or connate with, the human soul ; but they are the natural result of the exercise of the human faculties and intuitions in the circumstances in which man is placed. Degraded though man be, he shrinks from Atheism with almost as strong an aversion as he does from annihilation. Mankind cannot be brought to believe, that there are not traces in the world of something higher than blind fate and the freaks of cliance. Tlieir felt weakness, their very pride, cannot brook the thought of there being no presiding power to overlook their destiny. There are, besides, certain periods of helplessness in every man's life, when the soothing accents of human affection cannot be found, or, what is worse, can afford no comfort ; and then the heart, whatever may be the sophistries with which the head is warped, will insist on believing that there is a God who sympathizes with us and pities us. Eather than al)andon the thought that some Being above nature is interested in them, mankind will assume that the heavenly bodies have some myste- lious communication with the earth ; that the sun goes round the whole globe just to see their actions ; that there are planets presiding over their birth, and determining their life and death ; or they will people the woods and the darkness of night with spirits, and reckon the breezes their whispers of commimication regarding us, and the storms the expression of their indignation against those who have offended them. If for ever without a companion, man would sometimes prefer an unpleasant one ; and, on a like principle, he would worship a god supposed to be possessed of many hideous qualities, rather than be driven to regard this universe as a blank and uninhabited void. But while man is led naturally to believe in God, he is not led £0 naturally to entertain just and spiritual conceptions of his character. It is a fact, that almost all nations have retained OBJECT OF THIS TREATISE. 21 some idcca of a god, but it is also a tact, explain it as we please, tliat all nations have fallen into the most unworthy conceptions of his nature and connexion with the human race. We believe the second of these facts to be the natural result of man's cha- racter, as much as the other. False religionc appearing in every age and nation, have assumed forms as varied as the tastes and prejudices, as the habits and manners of mankind, or as the climates in which they lived, but all tending to darken and degrade the purity of the Divine nature. ]\Ian must have a god ; but he forms his own god, and he makes it a god after his own image. Instead of forming his own character after the likeness of God, he would fashion a god after his own likeness. It appears that at a very early age in the history of the world, there was a tendency to carnalize the Divine character by representing it in symbol ; — in brute sym- bol, as among the ancient Egyptians ; in the more glorious of the inanimate works of God, as among the Persians ; and in images of man's own construction, as among the majority of nations. The very beauty of the works of God stole away men's minds from the author, and they lifted up an eye, first of rever- ence, and then of worship, to the sun and moon and host of heaven, considered by the philosophers as emanations of Deity, and by the multitude as the deities themselves. Others were more impressed with the heroic and the ancient, and deified the heroes of bygone ages, the renowned warriors of their country, the pro- moters of the arts and sciences. So strong was this desire to bring down celestial things to the level of terrestrial things, that in the Egyptian mythology heaven was merely a celestial Egypt, watered by a celestial Kile, lightened by a celestial sun, and divided into the same number of gnomes as the earthly country, and each of these the peculiar residence of the god worshipped in the corresponding district of the terrestrial Egypt. Error, as it advanced, grew in waywardness and strength, till, in the ages of Homer and Hesiod, the prevailing religions of Europe became completely anthropomorphic; and Mars was just the embodi- ment of the popular admiration of warlike achievement, and Venus that of the popular conception of love. So complete at length did this adaptation to human nature become, that thieves have had their patron god in Mercury, and the Thugs divinities plea-^ed with the murders which they committed. 22 INTRODUCTION. Tlie Greek philosopher Xenophanes, ridiculing this anthropo- morphic spirit, was in the way of referring satirically to the Ethiopians, who represented their gods with flat noses, and as of a black colour, and to the Thracians, who gave them blue eyes and ruddy complexions. It may be doubted, however, whether the philosophers themselves rose above this natural tendency. The Stoic divinities are just a personification of the stern method of the Stoic character ; and the idle pleasure-loving gods of the Epicureans are the expression of the tastes and desires of the votaries of that philosophy. In ancient Judea, and in certain modern nations, the people have been kept from fallino; into such errorvS, by what professes to be a revelation from heaven. What pbilosophy never could have effected, so far as the great body of the people is concerned, has been accomplished by what appeared to the subtle Greek as foolishness. In our own country, the light of heaven has been let in upon the dark groves where our forefathers offered human sacrifices, and all ghostly terrors have vanished before it. But error has not always disappeared when it has changed its forms. While the old body remains, it can suit its dress to the fashion of the time and place. Our hearts would now revolt at the very idea of bowing the knee to an idol chiselled by Phidias himself With minds enlarged by extended knowledge, we choose rather to exalt the character of God ; for the more elevated he is, the less is our pride offended by being obliged to pay him honour. But while the popular conception of his character never omits these his physical attributes of power, omnipresence, and eternity, it is a question worthy of being put and answered, whether it does not leave out other qualities equally essential to his nature, such as holiness, righteousness, and grace — that is, undeserved mercy bestowed in consistency with justice. We fear that there is something repulsive to many in these phrases ; no, not in the phrases themselves, but in the very idea which these words em- body, and which cannot be expressed in all their depth of meaning by any others. While man wishes to believe that there is a God, he does not feel delight in contemplating a God of infinite purity ; and the mind turns away from the view as the eye does from the full splendour of the noonday sun. It thus happens, that while mankind do wish to believe that there is a God, they do not wish to believe in the living and true God. OBJECT OF THIS TREATISE. 23 They love to dwell on an existing God, but they do not love the contemplation of the actually existing God. Driven by these opposing impulses — now by the one, and now by the other — the religious history of the world is a very vacillating, as well as a veiy melancholy one. Man is ever fondly clinging to the idea of a God ; and ever endeavouring, at the same time, to bring that idea into accordance with his own wishes, his narrow in- terests and character. The religious history of mankind may be summed up in this — that it is a continually repeated attempt to adapt the character of God to those who feel that they cannot do without him. It is worthy of being inquired, whether this strong tendency of our nature may not be at work in this present age, as it has been operating in all past ages ; and whether our literary and scientific men are not holding forth to themselves and to the popular view the Divine Being shorn of some of the brightest of his perfections, because too dazzling to their eyes ; whether the God adored by some be not as different from the truly existing God as the gods of the heathens were : be not, in short, the creature of men's imagination, just as truly as the images worshipped in idolatrous nations are the workmanship of men's hands. Taking a wider range than the writers on natural theology are wont to do, and embracing within our view a larger field, we hope to rise, by means of the very works of God, to a grander and more elevated conception of the Divine character than those have attained w4io look to mere physical facts and laws. The inquiry will present numberless proofs of universal wisdom and benevolence. When we enter this council-chamber of the Lord of the universe, we shall find clearer evidence of a distinct affection of love reigning in his bosom, than can possibly be discovered from the adaptations of inanimate nature, and of the functions and limbs of animals which constitute, as it were, the mere outworks of nature. We shall rise beyond law to life, and beyond life to love. Mounting still higher, we shall pass beyond even love, and reach a moral principle, or rather a moral purpose and affection. In judging of human character we dis- tinguish between the man of mere tenderness of nerve and sen- sibility, and the man of virtue ; and in studying the Divine government, we shall have occasion to shew that God is distin- 24 INTRODUCTION guisiietl not only by his beneficence, but also by his holiness and justice. Nor will we disguise, from the very commencement of this Treatise, that we expect to establish, by a large induction, that the views given by the works of God of the character of their Maker and Governor, do most thoroughly hai-monize with the doctrines contained in that book which professes to be a revela- tion of God's will to man. On rising from the common treatises which have been written on the subject of natural theology and ethical philosophy, every intelligent reader has felt as if the view there given of the Deity was different from what is disclosed in that book which claims to be the Word of God ; in short, as if the God of natural was different from the God of revealed religion. Persons who take their views of God from mere scientific treatises, and the current literature, are apt to feel as if the God of the Bible was too stern and gloomy. An acute thinker of the present day speaks of " the dark shadow of the Hebrew God," and the phrase is significant of the feelings cherished by multitudes who breathe and live in the lighter literature of our age. On the other hand, persons who adopt their ideas of God's character from the volume of inspiration, are apt to regard the representations of Deity in works of natural theology as meagre and unsatisfactory in the extreme. All who have sipped of our current literature, or drunk into our science, and then turned to the Bible, have felt this discrepancy, though they may not be able to state wherein it consists. That felt difference cannot be expressed so fully, we think, as by one word frequently employed in Scripture, but carefully banished from the phraseology of scientific theology ; that word is HOLINESS — a phrase denoting one of the most essential of the Divine attributes, but to which no reference is made by the common writers on natural religion. If traces of this property of the Divine nature are to be found anywhere in the works of God, they are to be discovered, it is manifest, in the dealings and dis- pensations of God towards the human race, and in the moral law inscribed by him on every human breast. Tf these views be substantiated by the considerations to be adduced, there will thereby be furnished a link to connect the works with the Word of God, and natural with revealed religion ; there will be a bridge to join two territories, which have been OWECT OF THUS TlilSATlSR, 25 separated by a wide chasm. If it be true that the Divine i^overnmeut of God, rightly interpreted, gives the same view of the character of God, and the relation in which he stands to m;m, as the New Testament, then Ave have a strong and very satisfactory evidence in favour of the divine origin of the Scrip- tiires, and the religion embodied in them. The events of history, the observations of travellers, and the testimony of unimpeach- able witnesses, have all been made to yield their quota of evidence in behalf of the truth of Christianity ; we are now to inquire, if some important corroborative proof may not be supplied, by the method of the DiA^iue administration in the world without and the world within us. "We are to be engaged in reading, it must be acknowledged, the half-effaced writing on columns sadly broken and disjointed, showing but the ruins of their fonner grandeur ; nevertheless, with care, we trust to be able to decipher sufficient to prove, that the writing is of the same import as that brighter and clearer revelation which God has given of himself in the volume of his Word ; and by their sameness, to demonstrate that both have been written by the same unerring hand. 26 INSTRUCTIVE VIEWS OF GOD CHAPTER II. GENERAL ASPECT OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT; PHENOMENA PRESENTED BY THE PROVIDENCE OP GOD AND THE CON- SCIENCE OP MAN, THOUGH COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. SECT. I. — PHENOMENA OFTEN OMITTED. — THE EXISTENCE OF EX- TENSIVE SUFFERLNQ BODILY AND MENTAL. An inhabitant of a distant part of our world or of another world, let ns suppose, visits Europe, and inspects some of our finer cathedrals, such as that of York or Cologne. Admiring the buildings, he is led to inquire narrowly into their architecture, and he observes how stone is fitted to stone, and buttress to that which it supports, and how all the parts are in beautiful adap- tation one to another. Does he know all about these cathedrals, when he has completed this class of observations ? In one sense, he knows everything ; he knows that the building material of the one is a species of limestone, and of the other, trachyte ; every stone and pillar and window has been examined by him, and he has admired the beautiful proportions of the whole fabric. But if he has gone no further in his inquiries, he has but a meagre idea, after all, of these temples. There are higher ques- tions : What is the use of this chapter-house ? of this crypt ? of this lovely chapel or chancel ? The stranger has no proper idea of the cathedrals, till, rising beyond the minute inspection of stones, and columns, and aisles, he contemplates the grand results and uses, and observes, how this part was for the burial of the distinguished dead — this other part for the kneeling of the worshippers — this third part for the convocation of the priests — this fourth part for the dispensation of the holiest rite of the Christian Church — and the whole for the worship of God. PRESENTED BY HIS GOVERNMENT. 27 Now, we hold that the investigator of the mere facts and laws of nature is engaged in a work resembling that of this supposed visitant, when he is examining the stones and arches of the building. We are not inclined to depreciate this work of the scientific inquirer, and we are not doing so when we maintain, that if he would rise to a correct view of the character of God, he must enlarge the sphere of his vision ; his eye and his mind must take in other phenomena, and he must look at the object served by this temple, (for such it is,) whose architecture he has been observing and admiring. In investigating these two topics — the providence of God, and the moral principles of man's nature — we trust to rise above the inadequate conceptions of the Divine character so commonly entertained in the present age ; we shall ascend beyond mechan- ism to life, beyond laws to a lawgiver, and beyond even legisla- tion to an active and orderly government, with its judicial and executive departments. Instead of an image of marble set up on a pedestal by the hands of man to be admired, we shall con- template a living and reigning king seated upon a throne, wielding authority over, and issuing commands to, all creatures. This world is not in the state in which the intelligent and benevolent mind would have expected it to be a priori. Let the problem be : given a God of infinite power and wisdom, to determine the character of the world which he would fashion — and man's solution would present a very difierent world from the actual one. True, the problem is confessedly of too high an order for human intellect to solve it correctly ; but every approximation which he makes, only impresses him the more with wonder, awe, and fear, when he compares the results at which he arrives with the actual results — as we must believe them — of heavenly intelligence and love, in the existing world in which he is placed. We maintain that the solution of this mystery is to be found, so far as it can be found, in the careful consideration of the de- partments of God's works in which the mystery appears. The mystery, as existing in the government of God, demands a more earnest investigation of that government ; and underneath the very folds of the mystery, we may discover the truths which conduct to a right explanation. " They that deny the depravity of human nature are involved 28 INSTRUCTIVE VIEWS OF GOD in perplexity, and speak of the subject of the Divine government with such doubt, confusion, and embarrassment, as increase scep- ticism in themselves, while they too often produce it in their admirers." Robert Hall, in this language, refers to only one of several kindred phenomena, which should be taken into account in order to a comprehension of the government of God. There are five phenomena, or rather classes of phenomena, which must be contemplated by all who would comprehend the state of this world in its relation to God. Two of these are presented, at least more especially, by the providence of God ; other two by the human soul, and more particularly by its moral qualities ; and an intermediate one by the combined view of both. / 1. Extensive suffering, bodily and I. The providence of God presents us j mental. ■with — \ 2. Restraints and penalties laid onman. „ mi 1 /. ... 1 ■• 1 I ' 8. God at a distance from man. 11. Ihe soul of man in its relation to ) . ». ^ t ^ j. ^ , „ , , (4. Man at a distance from God. God shews us — 1 c a i,- • xi. i. i I o. A schism m the human soul. We are aware that, in bringing these classes of objects under notice, especially at so early a stage of our inquiry, we run the risk of giving our work a repulsive aspect in the eyes of many. It may seem as if we were delineating our God with thei grim and sombre visage which settles on the face of many of the hea- then idols. Should this impression be unfortunately produced on the minds of any, we trust that it will vanish long before our investigations are brought to a close. If we seem to an age dis- tinguished for the lightness of its literature — this age of literary dissipation, demanding stronger and yet stronger stimulants — to act like the ancient Egyptians when they brouglit coffins into their feasts, we claim at least to be actuated by the same motives ; it is for the purposes of solemn instruction to a generation which needs to be instructed, (though it demands rather to be enter- tained ;) and while we produce the stern memorials of man's weakness, we also proffer the food which, in our view, is fitted to remove it. If we are constrained at some parts of our Treatise to give a prominence to certain darker phenomena, it is because others have left them out of sight ; and with our exhibition of the graver and more commanding and authoritative features of PRESENTED BY HIS GOVERNMENT. 29 the Divine countenance, we shall show a smile of love ever playing upon it, and encouraging the heart of the most timid to approach. In these sections our object is to state the facts, and point out the unsatisfactory nature of the common explanations, rather than ouisclvea to offer any positive solution. It is from a com- bined view of the whole, at a future stage of our inquiries, that the correct conclusion must be derived. It will not be denied that there is pain, and pain to an extra- ordinary extent, in the world. It is not the mere circumstance that there is sutfering that is so v.-onderful, but the circumstance that it is so great and widely spread. Why is there pain in the world at all ? This is a difficult question to answer ; but per- haps not so difficult as this other. Why does it exist to such an extent ? Could not Grod have created a world in which there was no suffering to tear the bodily frame, and no grief to cloud and sliadow the soul ? Or suppose that we are able to explain this high mystery, and show that there are some incidental ad- vanta,ges to be derived from the existence of pain, the question again presses itself upon us. Why is this suffering so great — so universal ^ Why do the clouds of disappointment cast shadows so dark and so broad over the prospects of human life ? These blackening shadows must surely proceed from some dark and dense body coming between us and the light which shines so brightly and so beautifully from these heavens ; and what can that opposing and obstructing obstacle be .^ Wb.cnce the uni- versal liability to disease ? Why such wide-spread famine and plague and pestilence ? Why is this little infant visited with such gi-ievons and continued agony under the very eye of a mother, whose heart meanwhile is torn as much as is the bodily frame of the beloved child .? Come with us, ye sentimental believers in the perfection of man and of this world, to the bedside of this person, tortured continually with excruciating agony, without the possibility of relief being afforded. For many years has he been tossed there as you now see him, and scarcely remembers a single moment's respite being allowed him, or balmy sleep resting on these eyes to drown his suffering in oblivion. We know that ye turn away from the sight, and leave the spot as speedily as possible : but it is good for us to visit the house of mourning, 30 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. and we fix you here, till we have put some questions, which you may answer better when so situated than when in the house of mirth, and when you look on this world through the gorgeous colouring with which romance and poetry stain every ray that passes through them. Why, then, this protracted suffering ? Perhaps you tell us that it is to teach the sufferer purity and patience. Alas ! the groans that break from him, the bitterness of every remark that escapes his lips, all shew that these are lessons which he has not learned ; and without a special heaven- sent blessing, it is difficult to discover how they should be the natural result of circumstances which seem rather fitted to irri- tate the spirit into peevishness, to exasperate it into fretfulness, or harden it into sulkiness and rebellion. And when the scene darkens from twilight obscurity into the blackness of night, and the house of disease becomes the house of death, the phantoms thicken and increase. Whence these terrors of death, and the awful gloom which hangs over the sepulchre ? Why should it be so appointed that man's earthly existence should ever lead to, and end in a dark cavern, into vdiich all men must enter, but into v>^hich the eye of those who remain behind cannot follow them, and from which no one returns to tell what are his state and destiny ? Ingenious speculators, we are aware, have discovered that many advantages follow, in the overruling providence of God, from the existence of certain real or apparent evils. We freely admit that there is force in some of these theories. lu respect, in particular, of the death of the lower animals, we allow that there may be advantages in having a succession of generations rather than continuing the existing one, and such a system of course implies the dissolution of the individual. Nay, we may freely admit that there is force in all the theories advanced, so far as they establish the beneficence of God in bringing good out of evil, though we may deny that they explain the existence of the evil. But let us examine some of these speculations. We take up those of Dr. Thomas Brown, because they seem as ingenious and plausible as any that have fallen under our notice.* " If," says he, " by exposure to the common causes of disease, we were to expose ourselves only to a succession of delightful feelings, how rash would those be who are even at present rash ?" * See Lect. 93 of Phil, of Human Mind. SUFFERINa, BODILY AND MENTAL. 31 When one hears such a solution as this seriously proposed, he is tempted to ask, wliether such an end, the preventing of rash- ness, does really require such an expenditure of painful means ; or whether the same end might not have been attained by other means less apparently repugnant to the character of God. But the offered solution starts other and deeper inquiries. Not satis- fied with hearing from the Indian that the world rests on a huge animal, we follow him with the inquiry. On what does the animal rest ? and not satisfied with hearing that the liability to pain often prevents mankind from exposing themselves to dis- ease, we go on to inquire, why such common causes of disease ? — why such rashness on the part of those who are acknow- ledged to be rash ? — why such alarming evils requiring these awful warnings of their approach ? Acknowledging, as all must, that there are incidental advantages arising from the existence of suffering in the present dispensation of things, there is the other problem starting into view — Why is there such a con- stitution of things ? Why the need of one evil to counteract another ? It is the existence of so many evils that is the grand mystery in this world; and it is not cleared up by showing that one evil is incidentally or intentionally the preventive of another. But the same ingenious thinker, after stating the various ex- planatory considerations adduced by Paley, is candid enough to add — "All the advantage, however, which is thus produced by the painful maladies of life, I readily confess, would be too slight to put in the balance with the amount of pain which arises from these maladies." " The true preponderating weight, compared with which every other circumstance seems almost insignifi- cant, * * * is the relation of pain to moral character. It is ot advantage to the moral character in two ways, as warning from vice by the penalties attached to vicious conduct, and as giving strength to virtue by the benevolent wishes which it awakes and fosters, and by the very sufferings themselves, which are borne with a feeling of moral approbation." Now, this solution, while it approaches a little nearer the truth, is still far distant Irom it. It introduces into the calcu- lation a most important element, which Paley and others have left very much out of account — the consideration of virtue and vice : but it docs not allow that element its lefjitimate weight, 32 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. Dr. Brown has evidently discovered the unsatisfactory nature of the common explanations : and he has farther observed, that the economy of the world has a reference to the discouragement of vice, and the encouragement of virtue ; but while the truth is thus opening upon him, he refuses to follow it. The light of which he has now got a glimpse, might have conducted him to the discovery of that perfection of the Divine character which leads God to withdraw himself from vicious conduct ; but, scared by the dazzling brightness of such an attribute, and losing sight of it when it was urging him onwards, he hastens to betake him- self to the softer and flowery regions of sentiment and poetry, in which he ever delights to expatiate, and in which he affords rest to himself and his readers after they have followed him in his feats of intellectual agility. So far as Dr. Brown conceives, that in the infliction of suffer- ing God has a reference to the encouragement of virtue and the discouragement of vice, his views are clear and solid and con- sistent. He has discovered that there is a greater evil than mere pain, and a greater good than mere pleasure ; and that the pain which exists in the world cannot be explained except in its relation to the greater good and the greater evil. Instead of the "greatest happiness" principle, he might have seen what we may call the " greatest morality" principle ; and the idea, if pro- secuted, would have conducted him to a firm resting-place, on which he might have contemplated the full character of God, and His dealings towards a world which w^ould have been seen by him as fallen. But wlien the grand reconciling truth was just dawning upon his mind, he turns to another truth which has but sufficient importance to distract his attention. " There will," he says, " be a quicker disposition to feel for others when vv^e ourselves have suffered." Does God, then, create pain that men may feel for it ? " The grief of one," he adds, " is the pity of many, and there must be grief if there be pity." Does he mean to say that the grand aim of God in inflicting grief was to cause pity on the part of many ? Surely if this had been the whole, or the chief end contemplated by God, it might have been attained at a less expense of pain and sorrow. Besides, it is not to be forgotten, that, if liability to pain and sorrow be a means of strengthening virtue, it is also a means of encouraging vice Do not all the malignant passions of our nature, such as SUFFERING; BODILY AXD MENTAL. 33 envy, jealousy, and revenge, derive their main force and motive to action from the circumstance that it is possible to inflict suf- fering, mental and bodily ? Had man been placed in a state of things in which it was not possible foi; him to produce painful sensations or feelings, the malign allections would not have reigned with such fury as they do in a world so constituted as to admit of their being gratified. It is the very fact that our fellow-men are liable to be injured, which is the prompting occasion of scandal, and of the fearful contests and fiery feuds which cannot be extinguished except in blood. It appears, that if there are incidental advantages arising from the existence ot suffering, there are also accompanying disadvantages, and these latter, we fear, through the wickedness of the race, are very con- siderably the greater. At least every reflecting mind will ac- knowledge, that, when the elements to be weighed and measured are virtue and vice, it will be difiicult to get proper balances, and a true standard of measure ;"•• and diflScult, above all things, to say what is the actual residue on the one side or the other, after the proper subtractions have .been made. " If," says the same author, " the inhabitant of some other planet were to witness the kindness and solicitude of a father for his child in his long watchfulness and love, and were then to see the same father force the child, notwithstanding its cries, to swallow some bitter potion, he would surely conclude, not that the father was cruel, but that the child was to derive benefit from the potion which he loathed.'"' This explanation is coming still nearer the truth, but is not pursued to its proper conse- quences. It proceeds on the idea that pain is a medicine for one who is labouring under disease, and that a disease in the very nature of man. What a picture — what a dark picture is thereby given of our world as labouring under a fearful malady ! Prosecute the idea, and it will conduct us to truths from which many shrink back when they are close upon them ; it will ap- pear that God is conducting his government as toward a v;orld distempered in itself, and in a state displeasing to him., Dtses not the extent of the remedy, too, prove the extent of the dis- * The reader will remember the language of Burke — " Weighing, as it were, in scales hung in a shop of horrors so much actual crime against so much contingent advantage, and after putting in and out weights, declaring that the balance was on the side of the advantage." C 34 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. ease, as certainly as the number of prisons in a country demon- strates the extent of the crime ? Without at present starting the question, whether the suifering which God inflicts may not he punitive as well as remedial, it appears that the infliction of it proceeds on the principle, that there is a fearful evil of which it is the punishment or the cure. Has this idea been followed out, or rather, has it not been speedily abandoned after it has served a particular purpose ? It is at least worthy of being carried out to its proper results, and may conduct us to some very exalted views of the character of God, and some very liumbling views of the character of man. But leaving these subtilties of Brown, we may remark on the T^eneral subject, that the explanations of the kind at present re- ferred to, all proceed on the principle that each man is designed by God, and is bound in himself, to promote the greatest hap- I)iness of the race. In regard to this principle, let it be re- marked, that it is more than a mere selfish principle — it is a moral principle. There may be nothing moral in the principle which leads each man to promote his own happiness ; but when ifc assumes this special form, that man is hound to contemplate the happiness of the race, it becomes a moral principle ; and it is by the principle in this its latter form that any intelligent in- quirer would propose to explain the existence of suffering. God has so constituted man, that he feels that he ought to submit, when needful, to individual suffering, in order to promote the genei'al good ; and it may be argued, that the God who im- planted such a principle in man's bosom must himself be pos- sessed of this moral quality, and to an infinite degree. It may seem a plausible explanation of human suffering, to urge how expedient it is, that the vice which produces pain should in its turn be visited with pain. But the question recurs. Wherefore is there a state of things in which prevailing vice can so readily produce suffering ? It is the liability to suffering which consti- tutes the mystery, and this difficulty is not removed by showing, that pain may check the means by which pain is produced. Everything, in short, shows that suffering has a reference to vice and virtue full}^ as much as to the promotion of happiness. We hold that this conclusion is specially deducible from the existence of mental suffering. The plausible explauaiicns of the bodily sufferings of n^'-xn k"\ " \\ - greatest hcvppi^i'^sa' nrinciple, RESTRAINTS AND PENALTIES. 35 ilo not admit of an application to mental pain under many of its forms, especially when it proceeds from an accusing conscience. Certain mental affections — certain lusts and passions, for instance — lead to the most acute mental distress, naturally and neces- sarily ; and this distress may be held as indicative of God's dis- approval of these states. No man can assert, with even the sem- blance of plausibility, that the misery in such cases is appointed in order to prevent greater misery ; for the phenomenon to be explained.is the existence of the misery, either under its milder, or under its more appalling forms. It is no explanation of the minor acute distress, which follows the first kindling of evil affections, to point to the ftict that these evil affections, if cherished, must issue in greater distress. The very proportioning of the mental pain to the degree of the sin, points the more conclusively and emphatically to the divinely-appointed connexion between them. The Divine indignation against sin in its minor forms rises and swells as the sin increases, and manifests itself in the infliction of ever-deepening misery ; and the connexion between the cause and the consequence is indicated by the very fact, that as the one increases, so does the other — that as the rain falls, so do the floods swell. It is not against the misery that God is warning us ; but it is against the sin, and by means of the misery. A voice from heaven could scarcely declare more clearly, and cer- tainly could not announce so impressively, that there are certain mental affections which God would brand with the stigma of his severest reprobation. Enough, at least, has been advanced to show that this uni- versal and divinely-inflicted suffering in body and in mind stands out as a grand mystery, worthy of an attempt being made to explain it ; and that the common explanations throw just so much light upon its outskirts as to impress us the more with its vast magnitude and profundity, and with the desirable- ness of more light being let in to dispel the gloom. SECT. II. — THE RESTRAINTS AND PENALTIES OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE. It mijrht be interesting to know what are the means which God emplovs in the government of those worlds in which there is no taint of evil. Can we be wrong in concluding that the 36 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOCKED, main instrument, whatever may be the subsidiary ones, is a grand internal principle by which the creature is swayed — being an imperative sense of duty, and the love of God reigning in the soul, and subordinating all things to itself? This we must believe to be the bond, stronger than the gravitation drawing the planets to the sun, which holds the pure intelligences in their spheres, and joins them to the grand centre of all wisdom and life. But whatever may be the means which God employs in governing other intelligences, it is obvious, even at the first glance, (and farther inquiry deepens the conviction,) that this is not the way in which he rules the world in which we dwell, Man is placed under an economy in which there are numberless lestraints and correctives, medicaments and penalties, all origi- nating in the very constitution of the world, falling out in the order of providence, and ready to meet him at every turn — now with their 'bristling points to stop his career, anon with their whips to punish, and forthwith with their counter-moves to frustrate all his labour, and throw him far back when he seems to- be making the most eager progress. Man has liberty of will, (such as all responsible beings must possess,) but he has not liberty of action in every case ; and even when he has freedom of action, his actions are not allowed to produce their contem- plated results; for, while he proposes, another interposes and disposes, and his schemes are often made to terminate in conse- quences directly antagonist to those designed by him. " Cir- cumstances," says Niebuhr, in the passage already quoted, ''which are called accidental, combine in such a wonderful manner with others to produce certain results, that men evidently cannot do what they please." Man is hemmed in, thwarted, and arrested on all sides. Eestrained on either hand, there are instruments lying ready all around for his punishment ; and these are often wielded by a hand of fearful and irresistible strength, or set in • motion by latent powers possessed of electric velocity. We discover everywhere in this world traces of design and wisdom ; but of design and wisdom, so far as the government of man is concerned, directed to the prevention or punishment of evil. When we go into a well-built and well-regulated school, hospital, or asylum, into a prison or house of correction, we may observe tlie most beautiful adaptation of part to part, and oi RESTRAINTS AND PENALTIES. 37 each part and all the parts to the whole ; and we pronounce the building, its furniture, and the work done in it, to be perfect, but we discover at the same time that they are accommodated to inmates who are not regarded as perfect. We see everywhei-e vigilance and caution, and instruments provided by suspicion or fear, with means of resti'aint, of improvement, and of punish- ment, which would not have been required but for the exist- ence of evil ; and we conclude from the very character of the building, and the work which goes on in it, that there is igno- rance or poverty, disease or crime, in the dwelling. We may admire the architecture of the flibric, and the mode of conduct- ing the establishment, and we may feel the deepest interest, too, in the inmates ; but we observe that the existence of evil is everywhere pre-supposed in the very provision made to cure, to check, and to punish it. Now, looking at this world with an observant eye, we find at all times and in every place a singular apparatus of means, proceeding upon and implying the existence of evil. It does look as if this world, under the government of God, were a school, if we would so use it, for the improvement of the inhabitants — or as if it might be a place of restraint (where " man is a galley-slave, punished, but not amended ") in which the prisoner is confined, always with a certain liberty allowed him, till a day of judgment. Without taking into account the existence of human folly and wickedness, our eye will ever fix itself on a machinery, always in motion, but seem- ingly without a purpose to serve by it — as useless as the furniture of a school-room, of an hospital, or a prison, where there is no ignorance to remove, no disease to remedy, or crime to punish. Why such abrupt terminations to long avenues which lead to nothing ? — why such " withered hopes that never come to flower ?" why such numberless and ever-acting checks ? why such sudden and \'isible judgments of heaven ? why such bridles to curb, such chains to bind, and such walls to confine, if the inhabitiints of this world are reckoned pure and spotless by him who rules them ? An intelligent visitant, let us suppose, from a remote island of the ocean, or a distant ])lanet of our system, has alighted on the isle of St. Helena, at the time when Napoleon Bonaparte was confined in it. Totally unacquainted with the previous history of that wonderful man, he has to gather all his informa- tion from personal observation and inference. Himself unno- 38 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. ticed, he walks about and surveys the strange circumstances which present themselves to his view. His attention is soon fixed on an individual, discovered by him to be the principal personage on the island, and he observes that all the arrange- ments made by others have a relation, more or less directly, to him. He would seem to be the monarch of the whole territory, and yet it is evident that he is confined and suspected on every hand. He has a certain degree of liberty allowed, and he is ever asserting it and seeking its extension, while he is jealous in the extreme of the supposed attempts to deprive him of it, and complaining loudly of the restraints laid upon him. It is ob- served, that the persons by whom he is surrounded pay him all respect and deference ; while they are at the very time watching and guarding him, and ready, if he go beyond prescribed limits, to resort to bolder measures. This personage, it is farther ob- served, has in his manner an air of dignity which impresses the spectator with awe, while he has also an air of restlessness and discontent which moves him to pity. What reasonable conclu- sion can the traveller draw from this strange combination and jumble of seeming contradictions ? He knows not, for a time, what to think. There are times when he is confident that this individual, on whom all eyes are fixed, is a king ; but then he sees him watched and suspected as if he was a felon. He con- cludes that he may be a bondsman or a prisoner ; but this con- clusion is confounded when he reflects that a certain freedom is permitted him, that great honour is paid him, and that there are traces of greatness and power in his manner and character. It is possible that the traveller, after perplexing himself for a time, may give up all idea of resolving the mystery. Perhaps it may not occur to him that the opposite and seemingly inconsis- tent phenomena which present themselves may be combined in a consistent result, or, as the German metaphysicians would say, in a higher unity ; but should the idea occur, and he prosecute it sufficiently far, it will at once conduct him to a solution of all his difficulties, and the truth will now open to him, and show him in this pci-sonage a fallen monarch, with remains of former grandeur, confined here for a time, and with only a certain de- gree of freedom and authority allowed him. The idea may not at once suggest itself to the mind of the traveller ; but should it occur to him, or be brought under his notice, it will at once RESTRAINTS AND PENALTIES. 39 recommend itself to his reason. In particular, should he now meet with some individual who relates the previous history of Napoleon, dwelling specially on his greatness and degradation, he is prepared to credit his informant, and he feels now that the mystery has been unfolded, and that all difficulties have vanished. No illustration should be carried beyond the purpose contem-. plated ; and that now used is merely intended to exhibit the kind of plaited chain which observation and reasoning joining together will be inclined to construct out of the complex mate- rials before us, when we look at the relation in which man stands to the world. We cannot avoid discovering proofs of man's grandeur and dignity. All nature, inanimate, instinctive, and sentient, recognises him as its superior and its lord, and minis- ters to his comfort. Provision is made for his numerous wants, by a complicated but most skilfully arranged machinery. Then what noble mental faculties ! what deep speculations ! what rich emotions ! what far-reaching projects and anticipations ! There are persons who look to man exclusively under these fairer aspects, and never cease to discourse of his greatness and goodness. But other circumstances force themselves on the attention of those who keep their mind open for the reception of the whole truth All things sublunary have a reference more or less direct to man •, but many of the divine arrangements are fitted to leave the impression, that God cannot trust mankind in respect of their wisdom, their goodnojs, or integrity of purpose. We may ob- serve ever-watchful oontinels guarding him ; and we learn that force is ever ready to be employed if certain limits are passed, and certain strin/ont regulations transgressed. We discover everywhere signs of littleness and restlessness, of meanness and of crime. There are divines who fix their eyes exclusively upon the features cf humanity last named, and conclude that man is now lower tfcan the beasts that perish. While partial and pre- judiced minds would confine their attention to one or other of these views, the enlarged soul would contemplate both, and go out in search of seme doctrine comprehensive enough to embrace all. Apart from positive information as to the history of the world, from trr.dition or professed revelation, he may find him- self baffled in all his conjectures; but should the idea be pre- sented to him of original perfection and a subsequent fall, he feels now as if he had obtained what he wanted — a truth which 40 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. gives consistency and coherence to every other truth. But of this more hereafter. SECT. III. — THE DISTANCE OF GOD FROM MAN. Assuming that God is a being of infinite vrisdom and love, it does seem mysterious that he should not have devised means by which his intelligent creatures on the earth may enter into communion with him. A very little observation suffices to discover the wonderful pains which have been taken with man, in creating him at first, in endowing him with bodily organs and mental faculties, in opening to him sources of knowledge, and ])lacing copious resources at his command. What high intelli- gence ! What far-sighted sagacity ! What fields, rich and fertile, placed around him, inviting him to enter that he may dig for treasures and gather fruits ! It does seem strange, that in endowing man with such lofty powers, God should not have furnished him with faculties to communicate directly with his Maker and Governor. God has connected soul and body closely and intimately, so that the one can correspond with the other ; but by neither can man correspond with the Author of his exist- ence. He has given senses by which to communicate with the world around ; but He has given no bodily or mental organ by which to hold communion with Himself. He has enabled us to hold pleasant and profitable intercourse with our fellow- creatures ; but through no natural channel can we enjoy direct society with God. It looks, meanwhile, as if it was intended that man should enjoy such communion ; and when we reflect, first upon his capacity, and then upon what he has actually attained, we feel in much the same way as when we survey the eyeballs of the blind, and then learn that they cannot see. It is a mystery requiring to be unravelled, that God should throw open in such ungrudging munificence the works of nature, that man may expatiate in them at pleasure ; and yet that he should have kept himself at such an awful and unapproachable distance, and shut himself as if studiously from our view. The telescope which he has enabled man to form, looks into dis- tances of space which cannot be calculated, and the discoveries .of geology look into ages which cannot be numbered ; but whether we look above, or behind, or before, we cannot any- THE DISTANCE OF GOD FROM MAN. 41 where within this wide expanse which we have explored, reach immediate intercourse with the Being of whom we yet know that he dwells somewhere, or rather everywhere within it. In contact everywhere with the creature, man is in felt contact nowhere with tljc Creator ; though it might seem as if the immediate contemplation of God and fellowship with him was an infinitely higher and more profitable exercise, could he only reach it, than any intercourse which he can have with the work- manship of his hands. Why does God thus keep at such a distance from creatures otherwise so highly favoured ? If man's soul, like his body, be mortal, how strange that a spirit so noble in itself, and so richly endowed, should be annihilated without once coming in contact with the great Spirit of the universe ! If man's soul be immortal, as the great and good in all ages have believed, why does not God deign to instruct him in his future and eternal destiny ? God, it is true, is known by us to be very near, and yet we feel him to be at an infinite distance. He seems as if approach- ing us, and yet he is unapproachable. Men call upon him, and feel as if they were invited to call upon him, and yet he deigns no answer. There is the prayer of the inquirer for light, the complaint of the sufferer, and the cry of doubt and despair, and yet these heavens continue shut and silent. " Even to-day is my complaint bitter, my stroke is heavier than my groaning. Oh that I knew where I might find him ! that I might come even to bis seat !" Such have been the complaint and the demand of many, who have been constrained, when no answer is given, to add, " Behold, I go forward, but he is not there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive him : on the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him : he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him." The deepest thinkers have been in deeps in which they saw no light. " The whole hemisphere of contem]ilation," says Foster, " appears inexpressibly strange and mysterious. It is cloud pursuing cloud, forest after forest, and alps upon alps." The wild infidel (we mean Rousseau) proteoses a test by which he may determine whether he is or is not in a state of salvation. He is to throw a stone at a parti- cular tree — if it strike the tree, he reckons himself safe ; and if it do not strike the tree, he draws the other conclusion. He performs the act, and God takes no notice of it, but stands apart 42 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. in solemn majesty, as if he could not condescend to give light to the inquirer. The frenzied poet (Shelley) writes Atheist after his name, among the grandest of the works of God ; yet the rocks do not rend, the mountains do not quake, and the lakes sleep on as calmly in their rocky bosoms, and the streams leap with as lively and prattling a play as if they rejoiced in all that was done. Man wanders in the mazes of error, and God does not interfere to set him right, though he sometimes seems to interpose in order to punish. Errors descend from generation to generation, through regions Avide as India, and thickly peopled as China, and the stream is allowed to flow on. The sorrowful complain of this silence as cruel. The doubting feel as if it was unreasonable. The sceptic lays his fabric on these doubts and difficulties as on a foundation of ruins. Meanwhile God's works move on as if he was unconscious of all this, or as if nature knew no higher power than blind caprice or self-developing law. There are persons who, on observing this silence and apparent separation of God from mankind, conclude that God has ceased to take any interest in the world. The ancient Epicureans and Sadducees, and the Epicureans and Sadducees of every age, have elevated God to an ethereal region, where he cannot be disturbed by the noise and folly, by the cries and complaints of his crea- tures. But facts belonging to a different order force themselves upon our notice. While God stands apparently at so unap- proachable a distance, there are yet intimations of his being very near and ever watchful. Man sometimes wishes that God would let him alone. He complains of the strict and jealous care which God takes of him. " Let me alone, for my days are vanity. What is man that thou shouldest magnify him, am] that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him, and that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment ? How long wilt thou not depart from me ?" But God shows that he will not let man alone. God has within every human breast a witness for himself, giving admonition of guilt, and pointing to coming punishment. He has various ways of indi- cating that he has never, for one instant, been unobservant of the conduct of his creatures. Nemesis has always been repre- sented as seeming to tarry, but making her appearance most opportunely at last. When man's passion is strong, and bent upon indulgence, avenging justice may seem as if it was standing THE DISTANCE OF GOD FROM' MAN. 43 aside, and inattentive ; but it is only that it may seize liim with a more })0\veiful grasp in the state of exhaustion that follows. When the plots of cunning and deceit are successful, it may look as if God did not observe human affairs ; but when the dishonest man is caught at last, he finds it to be in toils which have for years been weaving for him. Napoleon, on his march to Moscow, concluded that he could command his destiny ; but when the nations of Europe, alarmed at his ambition, shut him up in St. Helena, every one saw that his destiny had, instead, been all the time canying him along, as the stream bears upon its surface the bubbles which its waters had formed. It not unfrequently happens that every opposing power, which the wicked thinks he has crushed, rises up to pursue and punish him, when the tide of fortune is turning against him. Every drop of that cup of bitter elements which he has been filling for others, he must drink himself when he has filled up the measure of his iniquities. The fagots which he has been collecting for the destruction of others all go to augment the flame of his own funeral pile. The drunkard is not. more certainly haunted by the frightful apparitions called up by the disease which follows excess, than crime is pursued by its avenging spirits. There is, if we may so speak, a gathering and closing in at the death, and that to behold his agonies and humiliation, of all the powers which have been in scattered scent and pursuit of him, through- out the whole hunting-ground of his career. It is aflSrmed of the drowning man, that in the brief space of time that precedes unconsciousness, every event of his past life passes in rapid review before his eyes ; and there is certainly something of mis hurrying in the avenging events, all having a connexion with his past life, which God crowds on one another to make the am- bitious, the proud, and malignant, discover that He has all along been ruling their destiny. Now, combine these two classes of facts, the apparent distance of God, and yet his nearness intimated in various ways, his seeming unconcern and yet constant watchfulness ; and we see only one consistent conclusion which can be evolved, that God regards man as a criminal, from whom he must withdraw him- self, but whom he must not allow to escape. An individual, wo may suppose, has committed a horrible crime, when intoxicated, and is committed to prison while yet 44 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. in a stcate of unconsciousness. On awaking to reflection, he would make inquiry as to his past or present state ; but he finds that there is none to answer him. He utters a cry of alarm or agony, but no reply is given. He would conclude that he is abandoned by all ; but, on turning round and round, he finds prison walls, vnth. only so much of the light of heaven shining through as to show that pains have been taken to render his escape hopeless. What other conclusion can he draw than that he is shut up in prison, awaiting the time when he is to be brought out to trial ? Does it not seem as if man was in a somewhat similar position, abandoned and yet watched, spared in life, but spared as if for trial ? And it were well if, instead of seeking to drown misery by frantic merriment, or to beat uselessly against his prison walls, he was endeavouring to realize the nature and extent of that crime of which he is but half- conscious, and anxiously inquiring if there be not some way of averting the judgment which may soon be pronounced against him. SECT. IV. — THE DISTANCE OF MAN FROM GOD. The facts which present themselves under this head are the counterpart of those considered by us under the last. There is both an attracting and repelling principle. First, there is a feeling in man prompting him to seek God, if haply he may find him. Transient feelings of gratitude, the fear of danger, the keen sense of sin, the fear of punishment — all these would draw or drive him into the presence of God. There are certain times in the lives of all whose hearts are not com- pletely hai'dened, when their feelings flow forth spontaneously towards the God or the gods whom they have been taught to worship. When some lovely landscape kindles the eye and ex- pands the breast, and calls forth trains of thought wliich run towards all that is beautiful and grand, there are yet deeper feelings which will prompt them to raise their anthem of praise with that which ascends from the works of God around. When unexpected blessings are conferred, when a friend long absent suddenly returns, when a relative who has struggled for a time with the billows of death is restored to the bosom of his rejoicing family, when some stroke of adversity is stayed at the moment THE DISTANCE OF MAN FROM GOD. 45 of descent, when the storm which threatened to overwhelm us is suddenly calmed, — it is the native impulse of the human mind to pour forth its sentiments, too spiritual for human language to utter them, or human ear to understand them, into the ear of a listening God, to whom they are due, and who can comprehend them all. More frequently — such is the nature of the human mind — it is wlien the storms rise, or when wearied of the voyage, or when rest might be pleasant after labour, that the mind pictures a tranquil haven to which it would betake itself in the presence of God. Or it is when clouds are gathering round, when gaunt poverty is in hard pursuit, when friends die or for- sake us, when tlie last star of hope in the firmament is quenched in darkness — we are brought to our knees by the weight of our cares, and find no outlet to our feelings so suitable as the lan- guage of devotion and prayer. More powerful still, if not more frequent, it is a sense of sin and a fear of deserved punishment ; it is the first moment's reflection after passion has hurried us into the commission of some criminal deed which cannot be undone ; it is the resurrection of some sin buried in oblivion, but now rising to haunt us like the ghost of a departed foe ; it is the vivid flash of lightning, such as the conscience sometimes emits, giving us a view of overhanging darkness and clouds charged with judg- ments. These are the feelings which constrain men to cry out to God, and which prompt them to express their faith or confess their fears. Such is the attracting principle — and we do not wonder that there should be a principle attracting man to his Maker ; but there is also a repelling principle, and it is the latter which is so very mysterious. It is a fact — and the explanation is to be found in an evil conscience — that there is something in human nature which would drive man away from his Maker. When his better feelings would prompt him to fall down before God, a hand from behind is felt to be holding him back, and he hesitates and procrastinates till the time for action is over. Thus, when nature is displaying its loveliest scenes, he would be inclined to look to that light in the heavens whose beams gladden them all ; but the eye is blinded by its excess of purity, and turns back instantly to the less dazzling landscapes of the earth. In the hour of adversity, the desponding feelings which, for the health of the soul, should be allowed to flow out towards God, 46 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. are repressed and bound up from all inspection, and they fester within till they pollute the heart and rankle the temper, and burst out in misery and crime. Still more frequently, in order to check his melancholy, and rouse his morbid feelings, the man runs round the gay and giddy circles of society, and tries to banish grief by banishing reflection, till he falls in the very feverishness and dizziness of a feeling which has been too highly excited. More melancholy still, he takes the cup of intoxication into his hands, and seeks to drown his cares in forgetfulness ; or he goes to the dark haunts of vice, and hatches passions within him, the bursting whereof produces a viper spreading everywhere poison and death. Again, when the conviction of sin would lay him in lowly penitence before the God whom he has offended, he betakes himself to certain outward acts and 'services, which may stretch the strings of his feelings till the vibrations of con- science subside. When he has fallen into vice, and when a sense of weakness and insufficiency would drive him for help to the power of the Almighty, he is tempted by pride to collect his remaining strength, and make one other effort to save his sink- ing virtue ; and though the vessel, when yet entire, could not bear him up, but was broken in pieces by the dashing of the waves of temptation and passion, he will cling to some feeble fragment of it, and soon feels himself sinking to rise no more. Such experiences demonstrate that there is alienation from God on the part of man. The nature and extent of this alienation may be more fitly investigated at a future stage of our inquiries ; but the fact that there is such an estrangement proceeding from a consciousness of sin, cannot be disputed, for history and expe- rience furnish too abundant proof of its existence. Every one feels it to be natural for him to love certain earthly objects, but that, while it is natural to the father to love his child, it is not natural to man to love God as he ought to love hira. Man is thus driven from God by one principle, while there is something within which at the very time is testifying in behalf of God. "Man," says Vinet, "cannot renounce either his sins or his God," There is, in short, a conscience, but a conscience un- paclfied, a conscience telling hira of God, but urging him to flee from that very God to whom it directs him. Hence the strange contradictions of the human soul. It is drawn to God, and yet it is repelled from God when it comes near THE DIST.^JS'CE OF MAN FROM GOD. 47 l^ini — as the electrified ball is repelled as soon as it comes mto contact with the object which attracted it. Man is constrained to acknowledge God, and constrained to tremble before the God whom he acknowledges. He would escape from God only to feel that he is chained to him by bonds which he cannot break. He would flee from God, but feels himself helpless as the charmed bird with the eye of the serpent fixed upon it. He would go forth like Cain from the presence of the Lord, but he has God's mark upon him, and is still under his eye in all his wanderings. He would flee from the presence of God, like the rebellious prophet, into a region of thought and feeling where the remembrance of God can never trouble him ; but it is only to find himself brought back by restraints laid upon him. In his conduct to- wards his God, there is prostration and yet rebellion ; there is assurance and yet there is terror. AVhen he refuses to worship God, it is from mingled pride and alarm ; when he worships God, it is from the same feelings ; and the worship which he spontaneously pays is a strange mixture of presumption and slavish fear. Hence the vibrating movements of the world's religious his- tory. Under this double influence, attractive and repulsive, man's eccentric orbit is not so much like that of the planets, with their equable motion and temperature, as like that of the comets, now approaching, as it were, within the scorching beams of the Central Heat and Light, and again driven away into the utmost and coldest regions of space, and seeming as if they were let loose from all central and restraining influence. Under these influences, sometimes clashing, and at other times concurring, man acts in one or other of two ways ; and we urge the circumstance as at once a proof and illustration of the truth of the views now advanced. He concludes that God is taking no notice of him, and he follows the bent of his own inclinations ; or, in the dread of punishment, he betakes himself to supersti- tion and idle ceremonies, to excruciating sacrifices and acts of will-worship, supposed by him to be fitted to pacify an angry God, Some give themselves up to the one, and some to the other, of these impulses ; some are Sadducees, and others aic Pharisees ; some are Epicureans, and others are Stoics ; some are Infidels, and others are Devotees, The majority of mankind flit between tha two, between unbelief and superstition ; now, 48 PHENOMENA COMMONLY OVERLOOKED. when ID health, giving themselves to the wildness of the onej and now in trouble, clinging to the strictness of the other, and generally remaining in a kind of neutral territory, like the false prophet's coffin, seeming to hang by the heavens, but truly upon the earth.* ]\Ime. De Sevigne expresses, with her usual naivete, the feelings of multitudes : — " I Avish very much I could be re- ligious. I plague La Mousse about it every day. I belong at present neither to God nor the devil ; and I find this condi- tion very uncomfortable, though between you and me the most natural in the world." Illustrative Note (a.)— THE RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF MANKIND. Our ordinary philosophic historians have utterly failed in their attempts to ex- plain the world's history so far as it relates to religion or superstition, because they have not taken into account those principles in man's nature which now draw him towards a supernatural power, and again drive him away from it. Such writers as Montesquieu and Robertson have seen other causes, physical or moral, bv:.t have left this one very much out of view. The clever but flippant Voltaire ex- hibited the repulsive or infidel principle in his writings, as he is said to have pro- fessed the attractive or superstitious influence at his dying hour ; but it was not to be expected of him that he should be able to detect and develop those principles of which he was the unconscious slave. Some of our later historical speculators, such as Guizot and Carlyle, have had occasional glimpses of the better principle, but none of them have sounded the full depths of the " spirit's mysteries," or taken eufificiently enlarged views of both principles, the better and the worse, to enable them to explain satisfactorily the most startling passages in the world's history. They have no calculus to solve so high a problem. Such writers as Hume and Gibbon, fediug all commonplace explanations to fail, can only talk of man's vm- accountable madness in everything relating to religion. These two, the attracting and repelling principle, do not, as might be supposed, nullify or destroy each other, but produce motion and powerful action like the attractions and repulsions of electricity. According as the one or other prevails, according as there is excess or defect, there is motion towards God, or motion away from God — there is belief, or there is scepticism. Some of the most extra- ordinary events in the history of individuals, of families, and of nations, are to be explained by these agencies. They have been the real moving power in the pro- duction of events in which ordinary observers have discovered other and more obvious and superficial causes, j ust as electricity is now acknowledged to be the cause of changes in physical phenomena, which were before referred to more palpable agents, such as heat and light. The sudden changes in men's religious opinions, and the religious movements which form so curious and melancholy a chapter iu the world's history, can be understood only by the help of these deeper principles, just as the changes in the weather, the currents of the atmosphere, and the gathering and scattering cf the clouds, can be explained only by the attractions and repulsions of polar forces. These deeper principles of our nature are capable *Hume speaks (Nat. Hist, of Religion, Sect. 12) of man's usual religious state as some "unaccount- able operation of the mind between disbelief and conviction." We have endeavoured t'.» give an ex- planation of this state by principles which Hume was not willing to look at. THE RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF MANKIND. 49 of producing results of the most appalling magnitude. Tlie winds of feeling, tlic waves of passion, and the fires of lust, the old and recognised elements, do not produce greater effects upon each other, and upon the more earthly ingredients in man's nature, than does the more latent principle that derives its force from tlie repelling and attractive power of conscience. No human arithmetic can estimate the velocity with which this current, positive or negative, will rush in to fill the vacuum which may have been produced in the heart of an individual man, when the worldly hopes which filled it have been torn away, or in the heart of a nation when it is without a creed, or when its creed has become obsolete, and is felt to be indefensible. The lurid lightning docs not produce a more rapid effect in the physical world, nor does the accompanying thunder raise a deeper feeling of awe, than the religious impulse has done at some periods, and the hatred of religion has done at other periods in the history of the world. It is thus that we are to account for the powerful impulse which religion, or the hatred of religion, has given to the minds of individual men and of nations. Hence the frenzy — henco the bigotry of infidelity. Hence, too, the frenzy — hence the bigotry of superstition. Hence we find men now mad upon their idols, and now mad against them — now honouring, and forthwith beating them. The ancient Egyptians, in times of severe national distress, took their sacred animals to a secret place and put them to death ; and threatened their gods, that, if the calamity did not pass away, they would disclose the mysteries of Isis, or expose the members of Osiris to Typhon. Augustus revenged himself for the loss of his fleet by storms on two several occasions, by forbidding the statue of Neptune to be carried in the pro- cession of the gods. "These men fear the gods," says Plutarch, " and fly to them for succour. They flatter them, and insult them. They pray to them, and com- plain of them." These impulses have at times been stronger than the strongest of human instincts and affections, than the love of parents for their children, or the love of life. Mothers have made their children to pass through the fire ; and de- votees have mangled their own bodies, or thrown themselves before the car of Juggernaut. The results that have followed from the abuse of this sentiment have been as stupendous and melancholy as any that have proceeded from the bursting out of the human passions. One hundred and thirty -six thousand human skulls were counted in a particular temple in Mexico ; and it is calculated, that for a period of 200 years, there had been an average of 680 murders in honour' of a single idol.* Other events show, that enmity to God has produced consequences no less lament- able. The history of the Jews, at the fall of Jerusalem, does not more strikingly illustrate the strength of the one principle, than the counterpart history of Paris, at the time of the first Revolution, demonstrates the force of the other principle, when men, as Burke says, "hate God with all their heart, with all their mind, with all their soul, and with all their strength." The whole passage is worthy of being quoted, as descriptive of the strength of a principle, of the nature of which, however, Burke had nothing but imperfect glimpses. " The rebels to God perfectly abhor the author of their being ; they hate him with all their mind, with all their soul, and with all their strength. He never presents himself to their thoughts, but to menace and alarm them. They cannot strike the sun out of the heaven^, but they are able to raise a smouldering smoke that obscures him from their own eyes. Not being able to revenge themselves on God, they have a delight in vica- riously defacing, degrading, torturing, and tearing to pieces his image in man. Let no one judge of them by what he has conceived of them, when they were not incorporated and had no lead. They wero then only passengers in a commoa • Prescott'a Conquest of Mexico, B. L c. UL D 50 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. vehicle. They were then carried along with the general motion of religion in the community; and, without being aware of it, partook of its influence. In that relation, at worst, their nature was left free to counterworli their principles. [Burke should have said, one part of their nature restrained another.] They de- spaired of giving any very general currency to their opinions. They considered them a reserved privilege for the chosen few. But when the possibility of dominion, lead, and propagation, presented themselves, and they saw that the ambition which before made them hypocrites might rather gain than lose by a daring avowal of their sentiments, then the nature of this infernal spirit, which has evil for its good, appeared in its full perfection. Nothing, indeed, but the possession of some power can, with any certainty, discover what at the bottom is the true character of any man." * Such phenomena as these, whether connected with superstition or infidelity, have baffled all ordinary historical philosophers, or philosophic liistorians, to account for them. After we have read all that they can say about human madness and human passion — about pride, vanity, and mahce — we feel as if they had merely explained some of the accompaniments of these great movements, and shown why the stream took a particular direction, but without at all exploring the stream itself, which leaps up from one of the profoundest depths of the liunian heart, and needs from the other powers and propensities only a channel to flow in. The more popular of the false religions which h&ve spread themselves over the world — the superstitions of the East, of ancient Greece and Rome, of Mohammed, and of the corrupt Christian Church — have all given the most ample scope to these impulses in our nature, and to some of the worst passions in the human heart besides. What a strange compound, yet banded firmly together, of licentiousness and yet of rigidity, of loose morality and of unbending ritual ! No system of superstition will be extensively adopted unless it provides for these opposing wants of our nature, unless it give open or secret license to wildness, and allow room or find employment for remorse. The two peculiar features of man's existing condi- tion are evil passions and an evil conscience. No superstition can become popular which does not provide or admit something to meet the craving demands of both. Hence the grossness of Paganism, with its horrid and cruel sacrifices : hence the licentiousness and the tortures practised around the same Indian temple. Bacchiis and Venus are to be found in the same mythologies with Baal and Pluto, and under various names, and with minor individual differences, have been worshipped over the larger portion of the Pagan world. Even in Rome, which professed an abhorrence of the levity of the Greeks, there were, according to Valerius Maximus, so many as 7000 bacchanals, among whose mysteries both prostitution and murder occupied an important place. Hence the love of war, with the stringent formularies that distinguished Mohammedanism in the days of its youth and vigour. The apostate Christian Church seems to unite in itself all the elements found separately in every other superstition, and to be Catholic and all-embracing, not in its truths, but in its errors. We agree with De Maistre in thinking that " there is not a dogma in the Catholic Church, nor even a general custom belonging to the high discipline, which has not its roots in the extreme depths of human nature, and consequently in some general opinion more or less altered here and there, but common in its principles to all nations."f In the bosom of that Church there have been em- braced at the same instant unbridled scepticism and profligacy, grasping ambition and the most profound deceit, with the asceticism of the anchorite, and the blind raitli of the devotee. These things may seem inconsistent, and so they are ; but * Burke's Eegicide Peace. t Du Pape. THE RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF MANKIND. 51 their inconsistency is to be foimJ in Iiuman nature, tlic clinractor of wliicli tliey esliibit, as the unwholesome food which the diseased stomach demands points out the natui-e and craving power of tlic malady with which it is afflicted. AVhen a religion waxes old in a country — when the circumstances which at first favoured its formation or introduction have changed — when in an age of reason it is tried and found imreasonable — when in an age of learning it is discovered to be the product of the grossest ignorance — when in an age of levity it is felt to be too stern, — then the infidel spirit takes courage, and with a zeal in which there is a Btrange mixture of scowling revenge and light-hearted wantonness, of deep-set hatred and laughing levity, it proceeds to level all existing temples and altars, and erects no others in their room. " The popular religions of antiquity," says Neander, "answered only for a certain stage of culture. AVhen the nations in the course of their progress had passed beyond this, the necessary consequence was a dissevering of the spirit from the religious traditions. In the case of the more quiet .and equable development of tlie Oriental mind, so tenacious of the o'.d, the opposition between the mythic religion of the people and the secret tlieosophic doctrines of a priestly caste, who gave direction to the popular conscience, miglit exist for centuries without change. But among the more excitable nations of the West, intellectual culture, so soon as it attained to a certain degree of indepcu- dcnce, must fall into collision with the mythic religion handed down from the infancy of the people." " As'early as the fifth and fourth centuries before Christ, the arbitrary and heartless dialectic of the sophists was directed against the might of holy tradition and morals."* Celsus may be taken as the representative of the infidel principle when Christianity was introduced. Possessed of " wit and acutc- ness, without earnest purpose or depth of research, and with a worldly understand- ing that glances merely at the surface, and delights in hunting up difficulties ami contradictions," he opposes superstition, not because of his love for religion, but because of liis hatred to all religion; .and hence is found opposing both supersti- tion and the true religion, with only this difference, that while he laughs at the popular mythologies, he gets angry at Christianity. AVhen Popery was waning in France, in the days of Louis XIV., when the lives of the clergy brought reproach on religion, and its superstitions could not stand the sifting light of modern science— then infidelity, long lurking, as it ever lurks. in the midst of superstition, found vent in those sneers which are always the ap- propriate and true expression of scepticism, expressive at once of its wantonness and deep malignity. In the present day, the superstitions of India, in which theology and cosmogony are so closely intertwined that they must stand or fall together, ai-e being undermined among the higher classes by the advancement ot European science. One look through the telescope dispels all the illusions of the Brahminical faith, and blots out of existence as many myriads of gods as it brings into view myriads of stars reflecting the glory of the one living and true God. The result is a widening scepticism among the Hindoos of the higher castes. But no nation can be long without a religion. There are times in every man's history when he feels that he needs to be strengthened by faith in a higher power ; and mankind generally will never consent systematically to cut the last tie that connects them with heaven. The attracting principle 7nitst operate ; and being a universally active and powerful principle, it insists on a creed and religious wor ship as its appropriate expression. Human sagacity cannot predict what building may be raised on the ruins of ancient superstitions, among the half-civilized nations of the East; but it can ♦ QcDcral Church Uistory — Introduction. 02 ILLUSTRATIVE ZSTOTE. certainly foretell, proceeding on the known principles of tlie auman mind, that when infidelity has advanced a little farther with its work of devastation, nature, which abhors a vacuum, will demand something positive to fill up the void. 1/ scriptural truth does not pre-occupy the ground, it may be feai-ed that the super- stition which grew so vigorously on the debris of fallen empires in the middle nges of Europe, and which has been transplanted into the rich but wild soil of South America, and of not a few of the British colonies, may yet find its seeds taking congenial root in the laeaving plains on which the superstitions of India and China are soon to decay. ^Ye know what has taken place in France. The infidel principle wrought its appropriate work of destruction at the first Revolution. The opposite principle then rushed in once more to fill up the void. Napoleon Bonaparte perceived that a new and vigorous crop must spring up from the old and indestructible prin- ciples which have their roots deep down in the human heart ; and that the lean and haggard ears which infidelity had raised up were becoming thinner and weaker, and must needs die. He reasoned from what he bad experienced in his own breast more than from observation, and his reasoning had therefore the firmer foundation to resc on. M. Thiers, in whom the conqueror has found a befitting historian — the one being as clever and as unprincipled, too, as the other — has fur- nished us with a deeply interesting description of this singular passage in his history. " For my part," said Bonaparte, when at Malmaison, " I never hear the sound of the church-bell in the neighbouring village without emotion." The pro- posal to restore the Catholic religion was listened to with scorn by those savans of Paris, who had all their days been inveterately opposed to religion. They scowled upon and ridiculed the proposal; declared it was weakness in him to submit to superstition which had for ever passed away ; that he needed no such aid to government, and that he might do what he pleased. " Yes," says he, " but only with regard to the real and sensibly felt wants of France." The real and sensibly felt wants which he felt himself, and which the nation felt, were the ci-aving for religious belief and worship suitable to their particular desires, and fitted to meet and gratify them. The events which followed the resolution taken by Bonaparte — the negotiations with the Pope, and the setting up of the Romish vrorship, and the general enthusiasm of the nation — all show how deeply planted, and how strong is the religious aflTection in the human heart. " Whether true or false, sublime or ridiculous," is the reflection of the historian, " man must have a religion. Everywhere, in all ages, in all countries, in ancient as in modern times, in civilized as well as in barbarian nations, we find liim a worshipper at some altar, be it venerable, degraded, or blood-stained." * Infidelity, like religion, has existed in all countries, and originates in that deep impulse which drives man away from God. But it cannot be the prevailing state of mind in a nation for any length of time. The reason is obvious. Both of the principles to which we have referred as existing in the mind must operate. Neither can be destroyed, and both are in their nature active. But the infidel principle can exist and flourish in the very midst of reigning superstition. It de- rives its strongest nourishment from the rank and foul superstition fermenting around it. It points to the folly of the ignorant or deluded devotee with a sneer, and congratulates itself on its own superiority. Except when dreadfully rankled and reproached, it is not disposed to make any sacrifices for its principles, or rather want of principle. Harassed by internal fears, it is at heart cowardly, t'ven when it must seem courageous. Coleridge says of blasphemy, that " he * Thiers, Consulate and Empire. THE RELIGIOUS HISTORY OF MANKIND. 53 nttercd big words, and yet ever and anon I observed that he turned pale at his own courage." Except at those times -when, as Burke says, it longs for domina- tion, it can be quiet, and timid, and time-serving, and securely cloak itself under the old distinction of esoteric doctrine for the knowing few, and exoteric doctrine for the vulgar. But the religious or superstitious principle cannot willingly allow its opposite to reign or prevail. A negation can exist anywhere ; it is slippery, easy, and ac- commodating; but that which is positive must have space and room, and it would drive out that Avhich resists it. Hence the religious principle, as being the active, the undaunted, the unaccommodating, (or if you will) the intolerant prin- ciple, must, in ordinary circumstances, be the predominant one. Infidelity soon learns that it is its easiest policy, not openly to withstand the popular religion and so raise its enthusiasm, but rather quietly to insinuate itself like a liquid through certain appropriate veins and channels of the body corporate, till it has soaked the whole in its own coldness and dampness. Hence religion is bold, uncompromising, and resolute, either reigning or seeking to reign; while in- fidelity, as seen, for instance, in Hume and Gibbon, the Neological critics of Ger- many, and the modern school of Pantheists, is cowering and cunning; dealing much in innuendo and insinuation ; generally walking with soft and stealth}' steps, satisfied with freedom from restraint, and quiet indulgences ; and fearing nothing so much as an earnest and p*rc religion disturbing its complacency, and making it doubt of its own doubts. The historians referred to can tolerate the grossest superstition ; the one can excuse Popery, and the other apologize for the most licentious Paganism; and their wrath is stirred up, only when a pure religion is exhibited in the lives of the Puritans of the 17th century, or of the primitive Christians. It cannot be doubted, we think, that the prevalence of infidelity in France was promoted and hastened by the warm sentimentalism of Rousseau, more than even by the acute exposures and ridicule of Voltaire. In the writings of the latter, in- fidelity is exhibited too much in its leanness and nakedness to offer any attractions to the heart. The sceptical princijjlc, no doubt, is gratified, and gloats over his pages; but the opposite principle rebels, and swells up in a regurgitation of feel- ing. On the other hand, the religious principle is deceived, at least for a time, by the gorgeous drapery of sentiment, underneath which Rousseau hides the hideous gkeleton of infidelity. His sentimental faith and doctrinal scepticism served for a time to satisfy the deeper cravings of the human heart. But the mask, a thin one after all, was soon stripped off. If Voltaire set the conscience against the intel- lect, Rousseau's writings set the intellect against the heart ; and the contest was painful to those who did not wish to be disturbed by an internal schism. The struggle was, as it were, embodied and acted in the unseemly contest between Hume and Rousseau. The mind of France, torn for a time, soon demanded some- thing more consistent; and this it found in the Genie dii Christianisme ; and the nation, converted to infidelity by Rousseau, was reconverted to superstition by Chateaubriand. The writings of the latter have many of the same elements of power as the former, and both address the two opposing feelings of man's rcligiou.-j nature. There are passages of Chateaubriand, and more particularly of his (jvon- dam disciple Lamartine, which show, that amidst superabounding faith of senti- ment, there is a great deficiency of faith in truth ; that, while there is sufficient glowing enthusiasm to satisfy the cravings of natural religion, there is yet enough of latitude of doctrine to allow of the free working of pride and self-righteousness- Pantheism is the form in which infidelity prevails on the Continent of Europe in 54 SCHISM IN THE HUMAN SOUL. the present day; and by its illusions, it satisfies many of tliose apj^etencies of ftse mind which ■would shrink from gaunt and grim Atheism. It pictures a fantasy with which the imagination may hold communion, but not of such a holy bright- ness as to drive back the spirit with an oppressive sense of demerit. Indeed, sin can be regarded as no barrier in the way of intercourse with the divinity of this sj'stem, for evil is just one of his own developments. Ample and accommodating, it professes to embrace within it all religions, and actually embraces all dead reli- gions ; and, like the ancient Roman superstition of the days of the emperors, it is tolerant of all religions, always excepting a living and uncompromising scriptural religion whicli refuses to enter into alliance with it ; just as the emperors erected temples to the grim divinities of Egypt and of the other nations that they con- quered, and yet virulently persecuted the Christians. Its fantasies may delude for a time the minds of the rich, the idle, and the refined ; but meanwhile there will be a feeling of emptiness and want in the depths of their bosoms ; and the great mass of practical men will scorn the delusion which would be practised upon them, and rush to a real infidelity or a real superstition, recollecting only one lesson learned in the school of Pantheism, and that is a fatal habit of excusing moral evil as a step towards good, or as a necessary part of a beneficent development. Looking to the present state of the Continent of Europe, it might seem as if infidelity, under its various forms, were for a time to be predominant. France is not now the only nation in which it has taken possession of the thinking minds, which are always the most influential minds ; it prevails to a greater or less extent in the majority of the Continental countries. If less sanguine and buoyant, if less confident and bold, than immediately before the first French Revolution, it is more cautious and calculating, for it has learned some prudence and policy from its reverses. V/orking silently, and under cover of a respect for all religions as alike true, that is alike false, it is working all the more surely ; and its scattered forces will at length come to a head, and it will openly proclaim itself, and enter upon the death-struggle for which it is preparing. But whatever" be its temporary triumphs, it cannot be permanently successful. The ancient superstition oi Europe, containing as it does the strength of the large portion of truth which it embraces, and all the strength of corrupt human nature besides, will be found more than a match for it, and will come forth from victory with a bolder front, and claiming a more formidable authority. Is it in the midst of these contests that the truth of heaven, by the immediate interposition of God, is to shine upon our earth, and scatter all error by the brightness of its rising ? SECT. V. — SCHISM IN THE HUMAN SOUL. Man is not only not at peace with God — strange and para- doxical as the language may sound, he is not even at peace with himself. There is a schism in the very soul itself. Two facts here present themselves — the one, that man, by the very constitution of his mind, approves of moral good, and dis- approves of moral evil ; the other, that he neglects the good and commits the evil. These two facts can be established as clearly as any that fall under the cognizance of the human conscious- ness ; and we must ever hold that the evidence supplied by the SCHISM IN THE HUMAN SOUL. 65 internal consciousness is, to say the least of it, as certain and immediate as that of the senses. On the one hand, man is possessed of certain moral qualities. "We may have our own individual opinion as to the psychological nature of these qualities. But for the purpose at present in view we care not how they be explained, whether they be described as belonging to the intellectual or emotional part of man s nature ; whether, with Butler, we hold the conscience to be simple and indivisible, or regard it, with Sir James Mackintosh, as the necessary result of certain other operations of the human mind. Dr. Chalmers very justly compares the disputes in regard to the origin or structure of the conscience, to an antiquarian contro- versy respecting the first formation and subsequent changes of some court of government, the rightful authority of whose de- cisions and acts is at the same time fully recognised. This moral nature of man is as essential to him as any of his other attri- butes. The evidence of its existence is so full, that we should as soon believe that man has no such faculty as the understand- ing, or that he has no emotional nature, as that he is without a conscience. Now, this conscience tells him, and that, too, in spite of the sophisms of the understanding wdien it happens to be perverted, or of the pleadings of the passions when they arc bent upon indulgence, that there is an indelible distinction between good and evil, and points to a Power upholding this distinction in the government of the universe. But, on the ottier hand, these fundamental and indestructible principles in the human soul can be made to condemn the pos- sessor. Ethical writers may overlook the fact, but they cannot deny it when the question is put to them. Mankind in general may be inclined to avoid the subject as a painful one, but it requires only to be brought under their notice in order to com- mand their assent. Nay, we believe that they are labouring per- petually under a secret consciousness of such a contradiction in their nature, and that their instinctive avoidance of all allusion to it arises from this very cause. They shrink from it as from a fearful secret, as we have found persons shrinking from the least allusion to a hidden humiliating disease or bodily deformity in their persons, or to certain unfortunate events in their previous life. Certain it is, that when his conduct is brought under review, man is condemned by the very principles in his own bosom. 56 SCHISM IN THE HUMAN SOUL. The wonderful circumstance is, that these things subsist to- gether. Yet, here they are, co-existing in the same breast, and apparently about to exist there for ever, and without an adjust- ment ; for man cannot rid himself of his conscience on the one hand, nor of his sins on the other. The judge is seated for ever upon his throne, and the prisoner is for ever at his bar ; and there is no end of the assize, for the prisoner is ever committing new offences to call forth new sentences from the judge. The double truth, which explains the double fact, has been grasped by Pascal, and developed with singular conciseness and beauty. " The greatness and misery of man being alike con- spicuous, religion, in order to be true, must necessarily teach us that he has in himself some noble principles of greatness, and at the same time some profound source of misery. For true reli- gion cannot answer its character, otherwise than by such an entire knowledge of our nature as perfectly to understand all that is great and all that is miserable in it, together with the reasons of the one and of the other," " The philosophers never furnish men with sentiments suitable to these two states. They inculcated a notion either of absolute grandeur, or of hopeless degradation, neither of which is the true condition of man. From the principles which I develop, you may discover the cause of those various contrarieties which have astonished and divided mankind. Now, then, consider all the great and glorious aspi- rations which the sense of so many miseries is not able to extin- guish, and inquire whether they can proceed* from any other cause save a higher nature. Had man never fallen, he would have enjoyed eternal truth and happiness ; and had man never been otherwise than corrupt, he would have retained no idea ■either of truth or happiness." " So manifest is it, that we once ■were in a state of perfection, from which we are now unhappily fallen." " It is astonishing that the mystery which is farthest removed from our knowledge (I mean that of the transmission ■of original sin) should be that without which Ave can have no knowledge of ourselves. It is in this abyss that the clue to our condition takes its turns and windings, insomuch that man is more incomprehensible without this mystery than this mystery is incomprehensible to man."* * Pascal's Thoughts. REVIEW OF THE PHENOSIENA BEFORE SFECiriED. 57 CHAPTER III. THE ACTUAL -^'OELD, AND THE VIEW WHICH IT GIVES OP ITS GOVERNOE. SECT. I. — PARTICULAR REVIEW OF THE FIVE PHENOMENA BEFORE SPECIFIED. The phenomena which we have been considering are not small and insignificant, nor are they single and isolated ; they are large in theraselveSj and spread over the wide surface of the world and the world's history. They are not mere points on which a perverted ingenuity may construct an inverted pyramid, but a wide base on which reason may rear the largest super- structure. They go far down as among the deepest strata in the structure of our world, and they mount up to the view as among the crowning heights of the landscape. They are facts on which the thinking portion of mankind have been prone to meditate in all ages and countries, and as they do so, have often become bewildered, and have lost them- selves in ever-thickening mazes. How melancholy the feeling of the elder Pliny ! — " A being full of contradictions, man is the most wretched of creatures, since the other creatures have no wants transcending the bounds of their nature. Man is full of desires and wants that reach to infinity, and can never be satisfied. His n.;ture is a lie, uniting the greatest poverty with the greatest pride. Among these so great evils, the best thing God has bestowed on man is the power to take his own life."* Sceptics have seen, as they could not but see, these darker features of our world, and have made their own use of them. They have commonly dwelt among these mazes as robbers live * We quote the condensed account by Neandcr. Int. Gen. Ch. Ilist. It is taken firom various places, but especially Natur. Uistor., L. ii. C. tU. 58 PARTICULAR REVIEW OF THE in dens, and caves, and forests ; and thence they have issued to plunder all that is good, to waste all that is lovely, and to allure the young and adventurous to their haunts, m the hope held out to them of freedom from all restraint. Strange as it may seem, our modern philosophers have generally left these facts very much out of account in constructing their systems, and have jostled them into a kind of separate chapter or ap- pendix, in which they treat of objections to a theory already formed. The sceptic has revelled in this field as the raven revels in corruption. He finds a kind of fiendish delight in pointing to the apparent oversights and irregularities, blunders and crimes, in the Pivine government. The Greek sophists toiled in this work, and rejoiced in the doubt and confusion which they intro- duced into human speculation. Cotta, the academic in Cicero de naturd deorum — representing that large portion of the learned who wish to inquire into everything, but to believe as little as possible, who ask, What is truth ? while not willing to wait for the reply — fondly dwells on the misfortunes and sufferings to which those supposed to be good are so often exposed. " Why, therefore, did the Carthaginians oppress in Spain the two Scipios, among the best and wisest of men ?" &c. Volney, in wander- ing over the ruins of empires, feels a pleasure allied to that of the conquerors who battered down the walls, and set fire to the houses and temples of depopulated cities ; he seems as if rid- ding himself of an enemy who stood in his way, and who was thwarting the schemes on which his heart was set. Our popular writers on natural religion contemplate with great interest a particular class of phenomena, and, founding on them, they demonstrate that God is a being of infinite benevo- lence. But the sceptic appears, and points to another order of facts, scarcely, if at all, less numerous and momentous ; and insists, that if the one class of facts proves that God is good, the other, on the very same principle, proves that God is malevo- lent, or that he takes no interest in the world. Placing the one of these conclusions over against the other, they make them, like antagonist forces, destroy each other, and leave nothing but a blank and universal void. But instead of making them oppose each other, let us seek to combine them. We may agree with the theologians who regard them as not contradictory, while we FIVE PHENOMEXA BEFORE SPECIFIED. 59 cannot approve of their method of looking to the one and not at all to the other, in forming an idea of the Divine character. We may agree with the sceptic in insisting that the apparent irregularities and disorders to be found in the world should be taken into account, as well as those phenomena which specially reflect the benevolence of God ; but instead of admitting his conclusion, we may, from the very combination, attain to a larger and j aster comprehension of the state of this world, of the manner in which it is governed, and the attributes of the Governor. " When," says Hume, in his Essay on Providence and a Future State, " we infer any particular cause from an efiect, we must proportion the one to the other." The general principle is a sound one ; and by means of it, Hume most effectually destroys all those flimsy fabrics which sentimental writer's have reared by putting together all that is fair and attractive, and leaving out of view all that is dark and awful. But while, by carrying out this principle, he has successfully undermined that weak and superficial religion which admits nothing but what is flattering to human pride, he has not used it, nor could it be expected of the sceptic tliat he should use it, for the uprearing of the fabric of trutl). Yet the work of building, whatever the infidel may say to the contrary, is always a greater and nobler work than that of destroying ; and the fact that Hume has scarcely de- veloped or demonstrated a single great truth in his philosophical works, is a proof that there was some defect in his mind, both intellectually and morally.'^' He has shown that, in the common reasonings on the subject of natural theology, the cause is not proportioned to the effect, and that there is much in the effect which finds no place in tlie cause. But in doing so, he must ac- knowledge that there are certain phenomena which do constitute an effect, and that this effect must have a cause ; and all that we demand is, that he follow out his own principle, and proportion the cause to the effect, and find something in the cause corre- sponding to all that we see in the effect. The phenomena contemplated by the man disposed to religion, * " I am apt," says Hume, writing to Hutcheson, " to suspect, in general, that most of my reasonings will be more useful by furnishing hints and exciting people's curiosity, than as containing any principles that will augment the stock of know- ledge that must pass to future ages." (Sec Life by Burton.) 60 PARTICULAR REVIEW OF THE and those gloated over by the man inclined to doubt, do seem at first sight opposed to one another. They give, in consequence, some appearance of support to that theory which prevailed so extensively for ages in the East among the meditative spirits who dream away existence under a relaxing climate, and accord- ing to which there are two parallel or co-ordinate ruling powers in the world ever contending with each other. The speculation is worthy of being alluded to, in so far as it was regarded by some of the deepest thinkers of the East, as furnishing an expla- nation of events otherwise inexplicable. In modern times, Bayle took refuge in this theory, not because he believed it, but because it supplied him with favourable standing-room, (and this is what the sceptic experiences most difficulty in finding, because, in re- moving the foundation on which all others rest, he also takes away the foundation on which he himself should rest,) from which he might with greater effect play off" his fire indiscriminately on all sides, against religion and against infidelity, against the be- liever, and against the doubter too. He and others felt that the theory was so far plausible that it professed to give an explana- tion of two seemingly opposite orders of facts, while other religious schemes only furnish an explanation of one of them. It is not needful to show wherein the weakness of this theory lies. The progress of science has demonstrated to the satisfaction of every mind, that laws and events which may seem discordant do yet form part of one compact system, originating in one designing mind. But if we are not to search for two causes of the effects exhibited in tfie world, we must, on the principle laid down by Hume, proportion the one cause to the character of the ivhole effect* * Philo, the advocate of scepticism in Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion, endeavours, upon a survey such as we have presented, to shut us up into one or other of four hypotheses regarding the first causes of the universe. " That they are endowed with perfect goodness, that they have perfect malice, that they are opposite and have both goodness and malice, that they have neither goodness nor malice. Mixed phenomena can never prove the two former ; unmixed principles, and the uniformity and steadiness of general laws, seem to oppose the third. The fourth, therefore, seems by far the most probable." — P. 11. In these Dialogues the academic Theist is represented as having nothing to urge against this, and the religious Theist (being a complete caricature) urges nothing relevant. We regard the fourth hypothesis as completely disproved by the clear evidences of goodness in the world, and the whole phenomena can be explained on a fifth hypothesis, being that advanced in the text. FIVE PHENOMENA BEFORE SPECIFIED. 61 We insist, then, that no religious scheme bo constrnctcd which does not take into account these five chisses of phenomena. Let us contemplate — the more frequently the better — those works of God which reflect, as the placid lake, the serenity of heaven on their bosom ; but let us not forget to look also at those angry waves and troubled depths which seem to say that heaven is offended. Each of the five classes of phenomena has a class of pheno- mena to which it stands in seeming opposition. Let us review them in order. L On the one hand, there are around and within us abundant facts to prove that God delights in the happiness of his creatures. The darkest fears, the deepest jealousies of the human breast cannot bring any man to believe that God is a malignant being. When a disordered mind and an irritated temper would tempt him to draw such a conclusion, he is driven back instantly by objects and feelings which stand up in defence of God. But strangely conflicting with these more pleasing objects, there is the existence of suffering, especially of mental suffering, often intense and long-enduring. With the views which modern re- search enables us to entertain of the omnipotence of God, we cannot resort to the old Platonic idea of evil proceeding from the restriction or limitation of the Divine power. But if there be design in every part of the works of God, there must be design in the infliction of pain also. If there be a property in the Divine character which leads God to delight in the happiness of his crea- tur'fes, there must also be a property — call it what you please, and explain it as you may — which leads him, in certain circum- stances, to inflict pain. We may suppose that there are two separate attributes having their root in the Divine character ; or we may suppose them to be two branches of the same attribute ; we may suppose them to be what are called the benevolence and justice of a God essentially good both in his benevolence and justice ; or we may suppose them but two modifications of the one attribute of goodness ; — but analyze them as we may, and dispute as we may about our explanations, and as to whether these explanations differ in words or ideas, the conclusion rests on indisputable facts, that if God is led by his nature to propa- gate happiness throughout a boundless universe, he is also led in certain portions of it, to ordain suffering. Behold in the storm and in the sunshine, in health and in disease, in wide-spread 62 PARTICULAR REVIEW OF THE happiness and crowded misery, the proofs both of the goodnesg and severity of God. But why does God inflict this misery ? Let us look to the other phenomena, and inquire if they can yield us any light. 2. It would be vain to deny that man is allowed a large share of liberty. He feels it, he enjoys it, he uses it, and he abuses it. He is endowed with godlike powers — a memory that enables him to live the past over again, an understanding admitting of great and indefinite improvement, a fancy fluttering among pictures richer than any realities, an imagination which stretches away into the infinite, and a heart of such wide desires that the whole world cannot satisfy them. — Then he is placed in a position affording room for the exercise of his faculties, he has a field of action broader than he can occupy, and the means of exerting the mightiest influence. There are persons who, when they contem- plate these facts, delight to speak of the dignity of man's nature and position. He is a god, they conclude, is so honoured by the supreme God, and should be so honoured by us. Dr. Channing is the most eloquent representative of this class of writers, who would have us to look on human nature with unmingled feelino;s of pride and satisfaction, and who represent all who speak of mankind as degenerate as being the greatest enemies of the race.* But the picture, however pleasing, is not consistent with other and palpable facts. If man has much freedom allowed him, he is also put under innumerable restraints. His mightiest under- takings often end in confusion, or in results precisely opposite to those contemplated by him. He is interfered with, checked, punished on all hands. He is driven back when he is most eager, disappointed when his hopes may seem to be founded on the best evidence. Cross events which we call accidents, adversity under its various forms, besides the obvious restraints arising from the direct working of the constitution of things in which he is placed, all combine to render him helpless and dependent. He seems to be trusted, and yet he is distrusted. He has liberty — of this he cannot doubt — but he is ever watched as if there was a risk of his abusing it, nay, restricted as if he had already abused the liberty granted him. All nature proclaims that God is good, and vet seems to indicate that, in regard to this world, God is a "jealous God." * See Sermon on " Honour all men.'* FIVE PHENOMBNA BEFORE SPECIFIED. 63 These plienomena exhibit the character of God under an aspect in which many are unwilling to contemplate it. Other pheno- mena sliow that God's character comes to be thus exhibited, because of the relation in which he stands to man. 3. The unwearied care which God exercises over this world is a theme on which the piously-disposed mind delights to dwell. It feels a peculiar interest in tracing the wisdom and goodness of God in ordaining and overruling all things ; and rejoices to discover that, while controlling and superintending the grand affairs of nations and of worlds, he is also providing for the meanest of the wants of the most insignificant of his creatures. It is manifest that the greatest events are not beyond his con- trol ; and yet that those which may seem the least are not beneath his notice. In seeming contradiction to all this superintending care, there are circumstances which look as if God had abandoned this world to itself, and ceased to take any oversight of it. Near though God may seem, he is felt to be at an infinite distance. Man cannot reach him by any of his struggles. He cannot rise to him by his highest aspirations. These heavens, when he looks up to them, seem to be covered with a perpetual cloud. There must be something coming betAveen, when the beams of God's love, shining perpetually on all holy creatures, are ob- structed in regard to man. That intervening cloud cannot come from the heavens, which it merely hides from our eyes, and must rise up therefore from the damjis of this earth. In short, it seems as if the good God had been justly offerided, and offended with something in the character of man. To determine what this is, we must now look to the character of man in its relation to God. 4. In looking to the nature of man, we find that there is an invariable characteristic by which he is distinguished, and that is a law in the heart testifying in behalf of what is good. This is of the nature of a fundamental principle. It may be ob- scured or perverted, but cannot be extinguished or destroyed. Bnt this same moral nature which gives its testimony in behalf of God, gives its testimony against man. That which God indicates in his dealings towards man, man shows that he feels by his conduct towards God. God shows that he is offended with something, and man shows what this is by taking guilt to 64 PARTICULAR REViaW OF THE himself. The idea, the very name of God, is associated in th« human mind with fear. The very propensity to utter blasphemy proves that the party is conscious of some strong inward feeling to which he would show his superiority. Man acknowledges that God is good, and that his law is good ; but he feels that this good God and good law must condemn him, and that they must do so just because they are good. No position can be more unhappy. Were he prepared, when this is his feeling, to prostrate himself before God and confess his utter unworthiness, -his case would not be so hopeless. But it is the worst feature of his condition, that while he acknowledges that God is good, and that God is good in condemning him, he seeks, were it possible, to flee from God, or hide himself from him. Conscious all the time tliat he is wrong, he is driven, by mingled pride and passion, to carry on the contest, or at least to take no proper steps to heal the breach. We have seen a piece of rock lying bare and exposed at the base of a huge precipice. From the shape of that lesser rock you see that it is a fragment, that it was once joined to the rocks above, that the frosts and storms of winter have loosened it, and there it lies useless and cumbersome, and utterly in- capable of being united by human art to the parent mass from which it has been dissevered. It is a picture of the soul of man, torn from its God and fallen into a dreadful abyss. We have only to examine that soul to discover that it was once united to God, but that it has now been cut off, and with no hope, so far as human agency is concerned, of the two being re-united. 5, Looking internally, and at the soul itself, we find that not only is there a schism between man and his Maker, but in the very nature of man himself. He has in his heart a law, which condemns the very heart in which it is placed. He approves of a deed, and neglects to perform it ; he disapproves of a deed, and rushes to the commission of it. Moral excellence is lauded, and yet loathed by him ; while sin is condemned, and yet cher- ished. All the lines of external proof, we have seen, seem to lead to man as the offending party ; and when we examine his character, we find him conscious of the guilt, and looking as if he was the culprit whose conduct has entailed such misery upon our world. We have thus endeavoured to converge the scattered rays FIVE PHENOMENA BEFORE SPECIFIED. 65 wliicli arc to be found in the darkness of this world into a focus, that we may throw light upon two topics of surpassing intcresfc — the character of God, and his relationship to man. Nature, u'lien i-ightly interpreted, seems to show that there is in God a [troperty or attribute, call it what you please — by the word holi- ness, righteousness, or justice — which leads him to inflict suffer- ing, and to intimate his displeasure against sin and those who commit it. It would appear that God indicates his displeasure ogainst man, and men universally take guilt to themselves. God hidcth liimself from nian, and man hideth himself from God. The two stand apart, as we have seen two opposing cliffs which had been rent asunder by some dreadful catastrophe of nature, and have now a yawning gulf between ; they look as if they had been united, and as if they might be united once more by some strong power brought to bear upon them, but they continue to stand apart and frown upon each other. " They stood aloof, the tears remaining, Like cliffs that had been rent asunder ; A dreary sea now flows between : But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween. The marks of that which once hath been." — CoiEKiDaB. So far as these facts throw light on the character of man, we are happy to be able to quote from those Thoughts of Pascal, which are in some respects loose as the leaves of the sibyl, but which carry us further into the mysteries of this world than the leaves referred to were supposed to carry the early Komans into the future history of their countr}'-. " If man was not made for God, why can he enjoy no happiness but in God ? If man was made for God, why is he so opposed to God ? Man is at a loss where to fix himself. He is unquestionably out of his way, and feels within himself the remains of a happy state which he cannot retrieve. He searches in every direction with solicitude, but without success, encompassed with unquenchable darkness. Hence arose the contest among the philosophers, some of whom endeavoured to exalt man by displaying his greatness, and othei's to abase him by representing his misery. And what seems more strange is, that each party borrowed the arguroeuts of the other to cstablii^h their own opinion. For the misery of man n:ay be inferred from his greatness, and his greatness from fi 66 OTHER GENERAL PHENOMENA FITTED TO his misery. Thus the one sect demonstrated his misery tlie more satisfactorilj', in that they inferred it from his greatness ; and the other the more clearly proved his greatness, because they deduced it from his misery. Whatever was offered by the one to establish his greatness, served only to evince his misery, it being more miserable to have fallen from the greater height. And the converse is equally true. So that, in this endless circle of dispute, each helps to advance his adversary's cause ; for it is certain that the more men are enlightened, the more they will discover of human misery and human greatness. In a word, man knows himself to be miserable : he is therefore miserable because he knows himself to be so : But he is also eminently great, because he knows himself to be miserable. What a chimera then is man — what a novelty — what a chaos — what a subject of contradiction ! A judge of all things, and yet a worm of the earth ; the depositary of the truth, and yet a medley of uncertainties ; the glory and the scandal of the universe. If he exalt himself, I humble him ; if he humble himself, I exalt him, and press him with his own inconsistencies, till he comprehends himself to be an incomprehensible monster." SECT. II. — OTHER GENERAL PHENOMENA FITTED TO THROW LIGHT ON THE CONDITION OF THE WORLD. So far we have proceeded in an inductive method, drawing conclusions from well established facts, all but universally re- coo-nised. We may turn to some more general considerations, fitted to throw light on the present state and future prospects of the world. When the Deity, in the depths of eternity, was purposing (to use human language) the creation of substances different from himself, we can conceive that it might occur to him to create material substances, without a wish or will of any kind, and completely plastic in his hands. But matter, however wrought into beautiful and gorgeous forms, does not reflect the full per- fections of God. Besides material substances, the fulness of God's kive would prompt him to create spiritual beings with intelligence and free-will. These must, from their veiy nature, be swayed by influences totally different from those by which God regulates the material universe. It is one of the most HROW LIGHT ON THE CONDITION OF THE WORLD. 67 noble and godlike qualities of spiritual intelligences, that they are enabled and required to act for themselves. Were the freedom of their will interfered Avith, they would cease to be what they are, and would be stripped of one of their most ex- alted and distinguishing features. To such creatures, their Creator would by some means or other give a law, with power to obey it if they so chose, but with freedom too to disobey it. Virtue is not virtue, properly speaking, when it is constrained. Every praiseworthy deed must be free and spontaneous. But it may be involved in the very nature of a state of freedom, that those who possess it are liable to abuse it. It is conceivable, then, that wherever there are responsible beings, there may also, on the part of some or many, be a disobedience to that law which the Creator hath prescribed as the rule of obedience. A condition of things in which such disobedience is impossible, may presuppose either that no freedom of will has been given, or that it is being interfered with. It is- reasonable, no doubt, to suppose that this disobedience must be something of rare occurrence in the dominions of God ; but that which is possible may be occurring somewhere, and there may be some individuals, or some races, who have fallen away from the purity in which they were created. There is nothing unreasonable, then, in the idea that there may be a Mien world somewhere. The pride of the human heart may rebel against the very thought, that the race to wliich we belong can be thus degenerate. But it is surely not impos- sible that there may be a world which has thus lapsed into sin ; and it is our duty to join the light which observation, reason, and man's moral nature furnish, in order to determine whether we may not be living in such a state of things. A priori, it may seem as if the chances of our being in a si^ot- less world were much greater than of our being in a fallen world ; but we have to do here, not with chances, but with realities — not with conjectural probabilities, but with facts. Judging a priori, the actual world is not such as we should supposj it likely that God would fashion. We must set aside our self- formed conceptions of what is probable, and taking things as they are, inquire what view the fiicts before our eyes, and re- vealed to our consciousness, give of this world and of its rela- tion to its Governor. 08 OTHER GEIS'ERAL PHENOMENA FITTED TO There are indications in the world, as it appears to us, of foiii great general truths. First, There are indiCxVtions of the beautiful, the bene- ficent, AND the good. These features strike the senses, impress the fancy, and move the soul of all. The painter delights to exhibit them to the eye, and the poet to the mind ; the man of taste expatiates in their grandeur and beauty ; while the religious man feels as if they helped him upward to the contemplation of the perfections of God. Secondly, There are indications of the lovely ajstd the GOOD being marred AND DEFACED. There is disorder in the very midst of order ; there is sin in the very heart which ap- proves of excellence. The useful becomes destructive, and the good has become evil. We feel in treading the ground, as if we were walking over the withering leaves of a life which had decayed. We cannot but admire the magnificence which every- where meets our eye ; yet it is with an associated feeling of melancholy, like that which the traveller experiences when he surveys Baalbec or Palmyra, Luxor and Carnac. The wise and the good have ever been inclined to look upon this world as but the ruin of its former greatness. Man, and the world in which he dwells, retain many traces of their former greatness. The ruins of a palace differ from the ruins of a hut. In the former, the v.-oj'k of desolation may be more complete than in the latter ; but we find here and there in the one what we cannot find in the other — a column or statue of surpassing beauty, indicating what the building was when it came forth from the hands of its maker. Not only so, but a palace in ruins is a grander object than a hut when entire. " The stately ruins are visible to every eye that bear in their front (yet extant) this doleful inscription — Here God once dwelt. Enough appears of the admirable frame and structure of the soul of man to show that the Divine presence did once dwell in it, more than enough of vicious deformity to proclaim he is now retired and gone." '' Look upon the fragments of that curious sculpture which once adorned the palace of that Great King — the relics of common notions — the lively prints of some undefaced *truth — the fair ideas of things — the yet legible precepts that relate to practice. Behold with what accuracy the broken pieces show these to have been engraven by the finger of God ; and how they be torn and THROW LIGHT ON THE CONDITION OF THE WORLD. 69 yTatterod, one in this dark corner, and another in tliat, buried in heaps of dnst and rnbbish."* But these two truths do not constitute the whole truth ; and tliere are persons who, liaving discovered this, rashly conclude that the one or other is not a trnth at all. There is a third TRUTH to be taken into account by those who would give a rational explanation of existing circumstances. Besides the traces of original beantyand subsequent degradation, there are PROOFS OF reconstruction OR REORGANIZATION. No One CaU understand the condition of the world in which he lives, except by looking to all these characteristics. Those who have con- fined their view to one or two of them, have found themselves in the heart of inexplicable enigmas. Persons who look only to the grandeur of the universe, are confounded every day with occurrences strangely at variance with the views which thej'' entertain of the perfection of the world. Those who regard this earth as utterly cursed, without considering its original perfec- tion, are obliged, in holding their opinions, to shut their eyes to tlie loveliness which is everywhere visible, if they will but behold it. Nor have those who represent this world as a temple in ruins, reached the whole truth. In a ruin, everything is abandoned and desolate. The parts of the fabric yet entire, and the heaps of rubbish, are alike tenantless and useless. The whole scene is waste, and, through neglect, is becoming more and more horrilic. But our earth is not thus deserted. Care the most watchful is exercised over it, and over every the most minute fragment of it. We discover the lamentable results of a mighty conflict, but no signs of neglect or abandonment. In a ruin, everything is misplaced ; and, except when accident has so determined in some of its freaks, the contiguous objects do not fit into or aid each other. But in this world we discover everywhere the nicest adaptation of part to part, and power to power. Amidst seeming confusion, there is a grand pervading unity of design. For the purposes contemplated, nothing is wanting, while there is nothing superfluous. Chateaubriand developed a gi'eater truth than he was at all aware of, when he described this world as a " temple fallen, and rebuilt ivith its own ruins."'\ " We are not to look upon this world as a perfect world/ * Howe's Living Temple. f G^aic du Christianisme. 70 OTHER GENERAL PHENOMENA FITTED TO saj'S Butler, expressing the view of every sober thinker. But the reflecting mind follows up this admission by the inquiry, Why is it not perfect ? Care must be taken, lest the acknow- ledgment that the world is not perfect land us in the conclusion that God is not perfect.* The one element of imperfection in this world is the character of man. We have already referred to the grounds on which we can vindicate (while we do not profess to explain) the existence of sin, under the government of a God who rules his responsible creatures by moral influences which do not interfere with the freedom of the will. But what- ever may be the solution of the difficulty which proceeds from the existence of moral evil, we hold it to be of great moment to establish the doctrine that this world is perfect considered in reference to those who dwell in it. There may be a difference of opinion as to whether a satisfactory explanation can be given of the origin of evil, or whether there can be any other than the one already hinted at ; but moral evU being supposed to exist, it is of the last importance to show that the other apparent evils flow from it, — " After it, the permission of sin," says Leibnitz, " is justified, the other evil in its train presents no difficulty, and we are now entitled to resort to the evil of sin to give a reason for the evil of pain."f Moral evil being presupposed, it may now be shown that physical evil in no way reflects on the character of God. There are perverted minds who may not think the government of God perfect because it ordains pain and sorrow, and provides restraints and penalties ; but if they follow out their principles, they must conclude that God is not perfect. With the proofs so abundant of the perfection of God, in respect of all other departments of his works, it becomes us to inquire whether his government be not perfect in respect also of the appointment of sufiering and punishment. In the simple and single parts of God's works, whether in the mineral or animal or vegetable kingdoms, we never discover a mean without an end. There is a use, for instance, for every nerve and muscle, every bone and joint, of the animal frame. Ph3'siologists all proceed on the principle that there is nothing unnecessary in the organization of plants and animals ; and the careful investigation of parts which seemed useless led Cuvier * See Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion, where this conclusion is drawn. f Essays on the Goodness of God, p. iii. § 265. THROW LIGHT ON THE CONDITION OF THE WORLD. 71 nnd others to some of their grandest discoveries. It is upon this principle that the geologist and comparative anatomist proceed, in the inferences which they draw from the animal remains found among the rocks. That bone, they conclude, must have served a purpose, and belonged to a living creature ; and from the examination of it, they arrive at a knowledge of the shape, size, food, and habits of an animal which may have been extinct for myriads of ages. Proceeding on this principle, they can clothe the bones with sinews and flesh, and furnish a painting in which the living animals are seen browsing among the reeds and ferns and trees of an ancient world. We believe that there is as little of useless waste in the more complicated dealings of God's providence as in the construction of plants and animals. The most ordinary observer may discover that all the events of God's providence are linked or dovetailed together. The most rapid concentrations of the various parts of an army towards a point by the pre-arrangement of the general, the most skilful adjustment of wheel and cylinder in an ingenious machine, do not so impress us with all-pervading purpose and plan, as the combinations and concatenations of events in the providence of God. The whole analogy of nature, then, prevents us from imagining that disease and sorrow, with the manifest restraints and punishments laid upon man, are incidental or accidental. It would indeed be strange, while everything else subserved a purpose, to find such painful dispensations permitted without an end to accomplish by them. But to return from this seeming digression, we find every- where in the world traces of original grandeur and subsequent ruin, and we find both united in a compact, and in some respects harmonious, whole. Our world in this respect resembles those conglomerate rocks which are, indeed, the detritus of an earlier formation, and seem now to be a curious jumble, but which, not- withstanding, through the binding together of the parts, are among the hardest and most consistent of all rocks in their texture. We see before us now, not a ruin, but a compact fabric — " A ruin, yet what a ruin ! — from its mass Walls, palaces, half cities have been reared." The impression left upon our mind is not so much like that produced by Thebes, or the cities of the desert, as by modern Jerusalem, still a city, but in singular contrast with its former 72 OTHER GENERAL PHENOMENA FITTED TO greatness. There are evidences that the building is far inferior to the original one ; and here and there you see a stone of the first fabric, in some respects sadly out of place, yet admirably fitted to uphold the existing structure. That fabric is not a per- fect one, such as it seems once to have been, but it is in every respect suited to the imperfect individuals who dwell in it. It resembles those palaces which have been turned into hospitals, retaining marks of their having been originally designed for a no- bler purpose, and causing us to sigh over the degradation to which they have been subjected, but accommodated, notwithstanding, by a wonderful dexterity, to the good end which they now serve. Such are the intimations of nature ; but nature goes little farther, it must be confessed, than to raise salutary fears and stir up inquiry. It prompts us to put questions which it does nat deign to answer. It calls up fears which it cannot allay. It ever conducts to a yawning gulf covered with clouds. There may be a country beyond, but it does not show it. There may be a passage to that land, but it does not disclose it. Still there are times when the mists seem to open, and show a better destiny to the human family, and a passage to it. There are times when, like Columbus as he approached the coasts of the new world, we think we see in the night a light from the country in whose exist- ence we are inclined to believe. But this leads us to observe that — Fourthly, There are indications of intended renovation. For why has this world, so manifestly under the displeasure of God, been preserved ? As a prison-house, our fears would sug- gest. But hope, equally natural with fear to the human breast, immediately throws out the idea that it may be as a school of discipline and probation. It certainly does not appear to be ex- clusively a school for training to virtue — for there are signal judgments inflicted on the wicked, not to train them, but, so far as this world is concerned, to put an end to discipline. But still less does it seem to be altogether a prison, and fitted merely for ])unishment — for there are innumerable means of improvement .and incentives to excellence. May it not be, that it is a place of probation preparatory to a final judgment and consummation ? The very preservation of this world in its present state seems to show that God does not intend it merely as a place of punish- incnt. Among the withered leaves on which we tread there are :to be found the seeds of a coming renovation, and these leaves THROW LIGHT ON THE CONDITION OF THE WORLD. 73 are preserved for a time tliat the seeds may germinate in the midst of them. A soil is being pulverized for the support of a new and a better life. In this world there arc evidences of God's hatred of evil ; there are also proofs of his disposition to mcrcy and grace. The human mind has ever been prone to fancy that this world is yet to be the theatre of great events, in which all the perfections of God's character are to be displayed. Tradition has delighted to converse, and poetry to sing, of a golden age as the commencing one in our world's history ; and both have fondly looked forward to a time when all things are to be re- stored to their primal purity. But tradition retains only such portion of the truth as recommends itself to the princij)les of the human heart, and true poetry ever sings in accordance with the native feelings ; and surely philosophy should not pour contempt on those high expectations which form the noblest aspirations ot human nature, and v.hieli we may suppose God woidd not have allowed to remain, if there is to be no means of gratifying them. God seems to have departed from our world : but as if to prove his remaining inteiest in it, he hath left a train of light behind. We do feel as if there were light lingering upon our world, like that which rests upon the earth in the darkest hour of a summer's night, left by a sun which has set, but which may yet appear, or sent before by a sun soon to arise. Even when our fears do most harass us, we discover tokens for good. We see, it is true, no sun as yet appearing above the horizon ; but on the earth itself, on some of its higher elevations, on some of its more prominent jjcaks rising up from among the darkest shadows, or on some of the clouds which overhang it, we discover a kindling light, which seems to show that there is a glorious luminary yet to rise, and that our earth is to be visited by a brighter and more glorious era. Some persons may be inclined to argue, that we could never have discoverel these truths from nature alone without the aid of revelation. Witii such parties we are not inclined to enter into a contest. Provided their statements be sufficiently guarded, we may probably agree with them, and may at the same time, and with perfect consistency, maintain, that though there is a difficulty in interpreting nature these are the very truths which nature teaches. Let it be granted that the writing inscribed on the works of God is not very clear, still the letters are there, and start 74 OTHER GENERAL PHENOMENA, ETC. into legibility upon being placed under the power of divine truth It required the genius of Copernicus and Newton to discover the true theory of the heavens; but when that theory is known, it needs no such sagacity to observe that it is confirmed by every phenomenon before our eyes. It may require, in like manner, a supernatural light to give the true explanation of the nrysteries of nature ; but now, with that explanation before us, we see that nature has many of its most difficult knots unravelled by it. Not only so, but the very fact that the Scriptures furnish such an explanation of nature, may be regarded as a proof of their heavenly origin. The writings on the tombs and temples ol ancient Egypt long baffled the skill of the most distinguished scholars. It was the Eosetta stone, with its triple inscriptions, one of them being Greek and a translation of the two hieroglyphical ones, which first furnished, or rather suggested, the discovery of the key. The key thus suggested by the Greek translation is shown to be a true one, by the number of hidden meanings which it has satisfactorily opened. Let it be acknowledged, ii persons insist on it, that the inscriptions on the works of God are not very easily deciphered ; still, should it be found that a professed revelation explains them, and that the two coincide, there is evidence furnished in behalf both of tlie genuineness oj the revelation, and the correctness of the interpretation which has been put upon nature. As it opens chamber after chamber. we become convinced that we have at last found the true key. "A person discovering the proofs of the Christian religion is like an heir finding the title-deeds of his estate. Shall he condemn ■ them as counterfeit, or cast them aside without examination ?" "Who can do otherwise than admire and embrace a religion which contains the complete knowledge of truths which we still know the better the more we receive ?"* We are as yet, however, but in the vestibule of the temple of nature ; and some may regard us as speculating beyond the evi- dence within our range of vision. All we ask of such is, that they now follow us into the temple itself ; and we must be pre- pared to abandon the views which have suggested themselves, it they are not confirmed upon the most minute and rigid exami- nation of the physical and moral governments of God. * Pascal's Thoughts. METHOD OF THE DIVINE GOVEEMIEFT. BOOK SECOm PARTICULAR INQUIRY INTO THE METHOD OP THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD. In the exploring expedition on which we have set out, wo have, first, as from a height, taken a general survey of the country before us, as the traveller will do, when circumstances admit, at the outset of his journey. We are now to descend to a detailed examination of the territory whose outline we have been surveying. In the first instance, we are to enter into the heart of the physical world as the same bears relation to man, and we are then to consider the character of man as under the government of God. As a suitable conclusion, we may gather the results together, and view them in combination. CHAP. I. — GENERAL LAWS; OR, THE PRINCIPLE OF ORDER. SECT. I. — DIFFERENT THINGS DENOTED BY THE PHRASE " LAWS OF nature" — PROrERTIES OF MATTER, CAUSES, AND GENERAL LAWS. The most ignorant and careless observer cannot contemplate the works of nature without discovering many indications of the cxisteqce of general laws. Science, in its progress, has been widening the dominion of law, and has detected its presence where the unlearned saw only caprice, and where the piously disposed were accustomed to contemplate the Divine power acting independently of all instrumental causes. It is now acknowledged that there are physical laws determining every " fitful breeze, 76 LAWS OF NATURE. and every forming cloud, and every falling shower." But while there is a universal recognition among the reflecting community of the existence of general laws, there is about as universal a confusion of idea as to their nature. An inquiry into this topic may help to clear away much cloudiness of conception, in which not a few errors are lurking. " Without going into any subtilties," says Sir John Herschel, " I may be allowed to suggest, that it is at least high time that philosophers, both physical and others, should come to some nearer agreement than seems to prevail as to the meaning they intend to convey in speaking of causes and causation. On the one hand, we are told that the grand object of physical inquiry is to explain the nature of phenomena by referring them to their causes ; on the other, that the inquiry into causes is altogether vain and futile, and tliat science has no concern but with the discovery of laws. Which of these is the truth ? Or are both views of the matter true, on a diflferent interpretation of the terms ? Whichever view we may take, or whichever interpre- tation we may adopt, there is one thing certain, the extreme inconvenience of such a state of language. This can only be reformed by a careful analysis of the widest of all human gener- alizations, disentangling from one another the innumerable shades of meaning which have got confounded together in its progress, and establishing among them a rational classification and no- menclature. Until this be done, we cannot be sure, that by the relation of cause and effect, one and the same kind of relation is understood."* The remark of this distinguished philosopher is one of the many signs of the times which indicate, that though scientific men are commonly disposed to turn away from meta- I)hysical philosophy, they will soon be compelled to betake themselves to it ; not only with the view of constructing a correct logic of physical investigation, but for the very purpose of ex- pelling the errors which have taken refuge in the region of fundamental principles — a region, no doubt, often covered with clouds, but where all the streams of science have their fountains. We have long felt the desideratum to which Sir John Herschel refers, and we have especially felt it when seeking to disvuss the questions which fall to be answered in the inquiry into the physical government of God. It would be presumptuous in us * President's Address to British Association, 1845. LAWS OF NATURE. "77 to profess to supply wbat so many have felt to be wanting, and yet have not been able to furnish. The subjects to be discussed, however, require us to make the attempt. "While we endeavour to disentangle a web which appears to many to be so compli- cated, and hope thereby to throw some light on the connexion of God with his works, we are at the same time convinced that many of the conclusions to bo drawn, in the subsequent parts oi this book, are to a great extent independent of any particular theory which may be formed or preferred in regard to the precise nature of general laws, or the relation between cause and effect. In reflecting, with the view of determining its nature, upon the Material world — and we wish it to be remarked that in this book we treat of nothing but the Material world — we are led at the very first glance to see that it is composed of a number of sub- stances, simple and compound, possessing properties. We do not require to enter upon the metaphysics of substance and quality ; we are not to defend, nor are we to impugn, either the popular view on the one hand, or the various philosophic theories on the other. We assume, what all must assume — except absolute scep- tics, who are beneath, or transcendental idealists, who are above the reach of evidence — that there are material substances pos- sessing properties. Kor are we in this treatise to speak of those properties of matter by which it affects the mind through the- nervous system and brain. These are important objects of in- quiry, but they do not fall to be prosecuted in this place, in which we confine ourselves to a topic which will be found to be sufficiently wide — the mode of action of the Physical world. In contemplating matter with the view of discovering its qua- lities, we cannot avoid perceiving that, first of all, it possesses the property of extension, or rather that of occupying space. This property was regarded as its essential quality by Descartes : and it certainly does seem to us to be an essential constituent of our cognition of matter, and implied in all its actual operations.* * See Sir William Hamilton's analysis of this quality, and also remarks on the dynamical theory of matter in Appendix II. On the Qualities of Matter. Modern physical investigation has entirely set aside the idea, still lingering among mctajjliysicians, that extension is the only essential quality of matter : dynamical energy is also essential. On the other hand, the dynamical theory of matter commonly overlooks extension, and errs besides in regarding the powers of matter as mere forces, (a word of limited signification,) whereas they arc ^no- pertics with a vast variety of kinds of action. 78 LAWS OF NATURE. Conjoined witli this fundamental one, we find in all bodies an indefinite number of other properties, such as attraction and re- pulsion, chemical affinity and degrees of cohesion, producing the gaseous, the liquid, and solid states, with certain powers in refer- ence to light, heat, and electricity. By these properties, hodies are capable of producing cha7iges on each other. This produc- tion of changes is not variable or capricious, but follows certain fixed laws. Bodies, simple and compound, separate and in union, in mechanical and chemical combination, change and are changed according to certain rules. These are the properties of the sub- stance, and all bodies have their definite and measurable pro- perties, that is, a determinate method of producing changes on each other. Such is the very constitution of material substances, and such the very constitution of the world as consisting of these substances. "Nothing," says Bacon, "exists in nature except individual bodies, producing pure individual acts, according to the law which governs them."* In looking more narrowly into the nature of these properties, we find that no given body acts upon itself. Bodies, when they act, act upon each other. Putrefaction and similar processes may seem an exception, but they are so only in appearance, for in all such cases, the separate elements of which the body is composed act on one another. Could we take any one body, or particle of a body, and separate it from the action of all other bodies, it would continue in the state in which we have put it for ever. In order to a change in that body, there must be another body operating upon it. It thus appears that the powers which one body has of changing another, or of being itself changed, con- stitute the properties of the body, and that all the properties of any given body have a reference to some other body or bodies, and to the production of change upon that body or these bodies. The only exceptions that we can think of are to be found in those properties of matter by which it affects mind, and the quality of ex- tension, which has a reference to space rather than to other matter. In order to action, to change, there must therefore be more than one body. There is not, so far as we can see, a self-acting material substance in nature. It is the first law of motion — that is, of all the mechanical sciences — that a body will couthiue in the state in which it has been put, whether of motion or rest, for * Nov. Org., Lib. ii. Aph. ii. LAWS OF NATURE. 79 ever, unless operated upon ah extra. Matter is equally passive in regard to chemical action. Nay, there is required in order to action, to change, not only a plurality of bodies, but a relation between the properties of these bodies. Oxygen and hydrogen, for instance, unite because they possess the quality of a mutual affinity, and they will not combine except in certain proportions, being according to the law of their affinity. All action or change thus originates in the conjunct operation of two or more bodies, and implies a relation between their properties so as to admit of their mutual action. A material substance existing alone in the universe could not produce any effects. Give us tivo material substances, and effects may follow. Give us these substances in a relation suited to their x>'i^operties, and effects loill follow. All changes, all effects, do thus proceed from the properties of two or more bodies, these bodies having a relation to each other which enables their properties to act. When it is said that matter is passive and dependent, every one feels that there is a truth announced which at once com- mends itself to the judgment. On the other hand, Leibnitz and a class of speculators increasing in the present day, endeavour to demonstrate that matter is active. May not both views contain partial truth ? We believe the whole truth to lie in the double doctrine, that matter has inherent active propertied', but that these properties are of sucli a kind that they cannot act unless there is a proper relation adjusted for them. Each separate substance, viewed ^^er se, is inert, and will continue in the state in which it happens to be till operated upon ah extra. In order to action, there must therefore be two or more bodies having relation to each other in respect of their properties. In order to beneficial action, there must be a skilfully arranged, and we be- lieve divinely appointed, relation of bodies to one another. In respect of its properties, matter is active, it has a virtus, (this is the word which Leibnitz* uses as explanatory of his meanino- ) and we believe that it would be as irreligious as it is unphilo- Bophical to deny this its inherent power. " In that great sys- tem," says Brown, " which we call the universe, all tilings are what they are in consequence of God's primary will ; but if they were wholly incapable of affecting anything, they would virtually * Sec Lettre iv., (Euvrcs, par M. A. Jacques, Prem. Scr. There arc curious discussions in the whole of the lesser works of Leibnitz. 80 LAWS OF NATUEE. themselves be as notliing.'"* But then, in order to the exercise of this their capacity, there is need of an adjustment ; and in order to its beneficial exercise, there is required a beneficial arrange- ment, made, we believe, by the same Being who imparted to them the capacity itself. It follows that all causes, so far as they are material, must be complex. An effect cannot be the result of a single substance or a single property, but of two or more substances with their pro- perties, and these in a relation to each other admitting of their mutual action. It follows, that in all inquiry into causes, we should seek for the properties of two bodies at the least, and a condition or conditions enabling them to act. We say in a loose way that the beams of the sun are the cause of the colour- ing of the leaves of plants ; but the true cause is a complex one, embracing not only the beams with their properties, but the chlorophyll and juices of the leaves with their properties. The sunbeams alone would not produce the effects — there must be the concurrence of the chlorophyll, (when the leaf is green ;) and it is when the two meet that the leaves are made to take the lively hue of summer, this hue varying with the variation of its concurrent causes, (concause,) being different in plants under the shade from what it is in plants in the sunshine, and difiering, by reason of the difference of composition, in every different species of plant. We are accustomed to speak of a frosty night as having nipped the plant found dead in our garden ; but surely the vital properties of the plant are as essential agents as the frost in the series of effects produced. A ball in motion strikes a ball at rest and sets it in motion ; the cause here is to be sought, not merely in the first ball — the ball in motion, but likewise in the property or susceptibility of the second ball— the ball at rest ; and as the cause is complex, so the effect is com- plex also, and comprises not merely the ball once at rest but now in motion, but the ball in motion now slackened or stayed in its movement. We commonly say, and the language is correct enough for common use, that air acting on iron produces rust : but when we spread out the whole phenomenon, we find that the cause, properly speaking, lies in the air and iron in a particular relation, and that the effect also embraces both the air and the iron — the air having had a portion of its oxygen, and the iron a * Brown on Cause and Effect, P. i. § 5, p. 105, 3d ed. LAWS OF NATURE. 81 portion of its siibsta.nce, abstracted, and the rust produced being a compound of the iron and oxygen. In the ordinary style of speaking and writing, we fix on one of the concurring precedents as the cause, and we call the otlicr the circumstances, and we speak of tlie same cause in the same circumstances producing the same effects. In fixing on one of the precedents as the cause, we commonly single out the one wliich is most prominent, or to which we wish to give the greatest prominence. But when we speak of the real cause, the uncon- ditional cause, the cause which will for ever be followed by the effects, we must embrace not only what is vulgarly called the cause, but also the circumstances or conditions — as in the above illustrations — not only the sunbeams, but the juices also ; not only the frost, but the nature of the plant ; not only the ball in motion, but the ball at rest ; not only the air, but the iron. It is only when we do this, and make the maxim take this form — that the same material substances, bearing the same relation in respect of their properties, always produce the same effects — that it becomes philosophically correct.^' Even for practical purposes, it is often desirable that it should assume this form, for as long as we merely talk of the cause being followed by the same effect in similar circumstances, we are apt to lose ourselves in determining what constitutes the similar circumstances. f * These views had occurred to the author before ho read Mr. John S. Jlill's very masterly work on Logic. Mr. Slill has seen the defect in the common state- ments, but has not, in consequence of not giving the pi'operties of bodies their proper place, discovered the thorough rectification. " The statement of tlie cause is incomplete, unless in some shape or other we introduce all the conditions. A man takes mercury, goes out of doors, and catches cold. We say, perhaps, that the cause of his taking cold was exposure to the air. It is clear, however, that his having taken mercury may have been a necessary condition of his catching cold; and though it might consist with usage to say that the cause of his attack was exposure to the air, to be accurate we ought to say, that the cause was expo- sure to air while under the effect of mercury. (Book III. chap. v. § 3, cd. Sd.) The true cause here was the body in a particular state — that is, under mercury — and the air in a particular state ; and the co-existence of the two is necessary to the production of the effect. I\Ir. Mill has seen that the unconditional cause is often (it is always) dual or plural, but ho has not noticed that the effect must be the same. The true cause consists of two or more bodies in a particular state ; the true effect consists of the same bodies in a different state. Hence Mr. Mill's error, (Book III. chap. x. § 1,) in supposing that the same effect can be pro- duced by several causes. A part of the effect may, but not the whole. t !^ee fiirther discussion on the relation Bi^WEE.v cause and effect, in Appen- dii III. F 82 LAWS OF NATURE. We are now in a position to understand what is meant by the laws of nature. We may mean three different things, which ought to be carefully distinguished. First, The properties of bodies, or their power of producing changes on each other. As examples, we may give the power which all matter has to attract other matter — which oxygen has to combine chemically with carbon in certain proportions — ■ which an alkali has to destroy the sourness of an acid — which an acid has to redden vegetable bhies — which light has to blacken chloride of silver, and the power which the cellular tissues of living bodies possess of absorbing contiguous matter. In using the phrase in this sense, we must always remember that pro- perties, in order to action, require an adjustment of two or moic bodies to each other. Secondly, The relation of the cause in actual operation to its effects, or the action of two or more bodies so adjusted that their projjerties operate. Thus, while the power of the sunbeams to colour the vegetable juices may be regarded as a property, the sunbeams and juices so acting as to colour the leaves may be regarded as a cause in actual operation. The power of oxygen to combine with iron is a property of the oxy- gen, but a property having reference to the iron ; the oxygen and iron concurring to produce rust, is an example of a cause. We have also illustrations of causes in the co-operation of the oxygen and carbon, of the alkali and acid, of the cellular tissues and the inorganic substances on which they work. It is only in the sense now before us that we can speak with propriety of the action of a law of nature. But let it bo observed, that such a law, when in continued action, implies a continuation of the relation of two or more bodies to each other. Thirdly, A generalized set of facts, or objects and events grouped together by points of resemblance. We have observed that all quadrupeds are mammalia, and that children are of the same species as their parents, and we call these general fticts, laws of nature. Of this same description are the laws of the revolution of the seasons, of human mortality, of the distiibu- tion of the plants over the earth's surface, of the variation of the magnetic needle, and those empirical laws regarding heat and electricity which scientific inquirers are so earnestly seek- ing to discover in the present day. We see at once how these LAWS OF NATUEE. 83 generalized facts or laws differ from causes. That day and niglit- follow each other may be represented as a general law ; but wo cannot speak of the night causing the day, or the day causin;:; the night. Using the term " law of nature " in the sense of ;i generalized set of fiicts, we cannot speak of the action of a general law, or ascribe to it a power of production.* These generalized or general law^s, it may bo farther noticed, are not simj^le but composite, and the result, as we shall see in a future section, of adjustments often very complicated and recondite. The power of the sun's rays to colour vegetable juices, is an example of a property. The sun's rays falling on the juices, is an instance of a cause — the two components of which are the sun's rays and the chemical elements of the leaves. Those cosmical arrangements by which the sun's rays fall daily on the plants, and by w^hich they fall on them more powerfully and for a greater length of time during summer — these give the annual cycle of the colouring of the leaves of plants, which may be taken as an illustration of a general law, the result of the mutual adjustment of many bodies possessing different properties. It is of the utmost importance that we be able to separate these three things. To some extent connected, in that they all imply order, they differ in other and more important respects. Properties are simple, being the rule of the action of bodies upon one another. Material causes are always duplex or complex, implying the exercise of the properties of more than one bod}'. General laws are necessarily multiplex, and are not the causes but the results of a vast number of arrangements. The first, or properties as we shall call them, are capable of action only when certain needful conditions are fulfilled. The second, or causes, are these properties in operation in consequence of the conditions of action being furnished. The third, or general laws as we shall call them, are a collection of natural objects so resembling each other that we class them together. In a loose way, it may be proper enough to call them all by one name, as significant of the order which reigns in the world; but in doing so there is always a risk of our sliding unconsciously from the * While preparing this 4th edition, wc arc gratified to notice a similar statement by ^I. Pruvost, just published in Sir William Hamilton's edition of Stewart, vol. iii., Ap., Art. II. " Je passe i remarquer la diflfurence entre hi et cause. Une loi est un rapport . . . une generalization ; une loi nc peut agir. II faut done un agent;, une cause, pour rOaliser un changement." 84 LAWS OF NATURE. one to the otlier, and predicating of one what is true only of another, or of all what is true only of one. In contemplating the world at a given instant — the contem- poraneous WORLD — we find it composed of substances with their properties adjusted to each other. These propeo'ties (and not laws) constitute the primary, or rather the sole moving power residing in the physical world. Again, in contemplating the SUCCESSIVE WORLD, or the world in its changes, we find the sub- stances actually operating according to their properties, and we have causes producing effects. We examine now the results pro- duced, and we find that these properties and causes have been so arranged as to produce general laws, or a beautiful order in respect of number, form, time, and colour throughout the whole of nature. If these views be correct, properties variously combined are the spring of all action, of all production in physical nature ; leading, in consequence of their adjustment to causal operations, and as the result of their skilful combination, to general laws, which can be noticed by the intelligent observer. The arrange- ments of nature are often very complicated, and it is difficult to arrive at the original properties from which action proceeds, and of which general laws are the result. But properties of bodies seem to be the powers at the base of all action, and they are the powers which we reach in the last resort in the inquiry into the processes of the material universe. All action of material substances implies adjustment; all opera- tion of cause and effect, the existence of similar circumstances ; and general effects or laws imply the continuance of the same adjusted circumstances. In order to the production of any effect, there must be substances in an adjusted relation to each other. In order to the production of a succession of general effects, these substances must continue to bear the same relation, or the relation must be recurrent or repeating. These views, however, will be better comprehended after taking a survey of the illus- trations of adjustment to be given in the next section. But before closing this section, the remark is forced upon us, that if these distinctions had been kept in view, we should never have heard of gravitation or any other property of matter being represented as a principle capable of creating or sustaining the universe, for it would have been seen that the properties of natural substances require certain adjustments as conditions of LAWS OF NATURE. 85 their action, or at least beneficial action. Nor would we have heard of a mere general fact being employed to explain the production of any phenomenon. There is an important class of the sciences, which may be called the classificatory, embiacing the various branches of natural history, and in them the laws are of that description which we have arranged as the third, being mere general facts observed by experience. These sciences are satisfied when they can group objects into classes in the manner referred to. But all investigation into production or change carries us at last to substances with their qualities. Scientific investigation has gone, we apprehend, to its farthest point, Avhen it has discovered the substances and qualities, and the conditions needful to their operation. The mind will not rest till it reaches this limit ; for it knows that all given pheno- mena must proceed from certain bodies, having fixed properties which it is bent upon discovering. Having gone this length, it should feel that it can go no farther. In astronomy, we arrive at last at gravitation, and the relation of the celestial bodies which enables that property to act, and we feel that inquiry must now cease. In chemistry, we ascertain that a certain compound is composed of two or more elementary substances, which unite according to a certain rule, and the mind must rest here for ever, for it can get no farther. These views might be usefully applied to check all those rash conclusions which men of science, falsely so called, have been drawing in regard to the formation and past history of the world, which they would explain by referring them to the laws of nature, these laws being the mere generalized facts of natural history.* Truly these persons know not what they mean by the laws of nature, though no phrase is so frequently in their mouths. To refer a phenomenon to a law, in the sense in which they use the word, is merely to show that certain other pheno- mena resemble it in some respects, but does not furnish an * That there is an order and progression — that is, a law — in the works of crea- tion, is implied in the Scripture account of the six days, (however interpreted,) and follows from the discoveries of geologists, and should be frankly admitted by the opponents of the author of the " Vestiges of Creation." But order is not production. Tlie fact that one colour runs into another in a painting is no proof that the ore colour produces the other. The author's real facts prove that there is an order in the works of God, but do not shew that there is any power in nature capable 0/ producing a new species of animal, or of transmuting one species into another. 86 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES explanation of its production ; nay, it brings instead undei notice other phenomena, all requiring to be explained as to the manner of their production. Events, whether we are or are not able to arrange them in a law — that is, in a class — have all a producing cause different from themselves. We are entitled to demand of those who would explain all nature by natural law, that they point out a cause of those products which they think they have sufficiently explained when they have arranged them in a class. When we are constrained to acknow- ledge in regard to any phenomenon, that it could not have had a cause in a material substance, the mind will not rest sa^tisfied till it call in a spiritual substance possessed of such power and intelligence as to be able to produce the effects. Let it be observed, too, how widely the argument for an intel- ligent cause of the material universe extends. In all physical action there is the presence of two or more bodies with their properties, and an adjustment as the condition of their operation. It is this circumstance which renders matter so inert in itself, and so dependent on the Governor of the world. Matter can act only when arrangements are made for it, and can act beneficently only when the arrangements are beneficent. But the power of making arrangements cannot be found within the capacity of dead or — if any one prefers it — of living matter. The skill and benevolence shown in these arrangements conduct to the belief in a skilful and benevolent cause. The argument for the exist- ence of God is thus widened, and rendered as extensive as the action of the physical universe. SECT. II. — ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES WITH THEIR PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER. An approximation has been made to an enumeration of the elementary substances in nature. There has been no attempt, however, to number the properties of matter. The essential properties of matter — that is, the properties found in matter under every form — have been ascertained, it is supposed ; but the separate qualities of the elementary substances have not been determined, and no one has proposed to himself the task of defining all the qualities of the cqmpound substances in the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms. Science ii WITH THEIR PIIOFERTIES TO EACH OTHER. 87 making vigorous efforts to master the whole domains of nature ; but its investigations are ever opening new wonders, of the exist- ence of which the imagination did not so much as dream. In .every part of nature there are latent powers at work, giving intimations, by signs which cannot be mistaken, of their exist- ence, but not deigning to afford any insight into their nature. It is out of these substances, simple and compound, with their several properties, that God hath constructed the visible universe. We speak of the construction of the universe as something separate from, and additional to, the simple substances and properties ; for it is possible to conceive of the matter of the universe with its properties being the same, and yet the universe being different from the existing one, for the powers, instead of conspiring and co-operating, might have only opposed and thwarted each other, and resulted, not in order, but in a never- ending confusion, worse than the chaos which the poets describe. It is delightful to find that, at this part of our inquiries, we can refer to one who combined in himself qualities which are often dissevered in others — the popular orator and scientific inquirer, the philosopher and divine, uniting simple faith with the boldest spirit of speculation, standing firmly on the earth while he measures the heavens, and after his imagination has taken the widest excursion?, and his understanding has con- structed the noblest theories, ever returning to sit at the feet of his Divine tcaclier. Adopting the views set forth in those por- tions of Dr. Chalmers's Bridgewater Treatise and Natural Theo- logy, in which he treats of what he calls the collocations or dispositions of matter, we hope to be able to give them a greater extension, and a more special definiteness. There are, it appears, about sixty elementary substances in nature with their separate rules of action, and there are combi- nations of these elementary substances, and of the properties possessed by them, so many that they cannot be numbered, and so diversified that they cannot be classified, while there is a certain room in boundless space allowed for these substances, and the play of their several qualities. The wisdom of God is specially seen in the adjustment of the several material sub- stances with their properties to each other. Not that there may not be wisdom exhibited in the formation of each separate sub- stance considered in itself, and in the properties, more especially 88 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES the co-existence of the properties, with which it is endowed. Astronomers have asserted that there is a wonderful beauty discoverable in the circumstance that the law of gravitation varies inversely according to the square of the distance ; and it is certain that if it had varied according to any other rule, the same purposes could not have been served by it in the actual mundane system. There is manifestly a wisdom shown in the nature and properties of the elementary substances, some of them being, at the common temperature of the earth, gaseous and singularly pervading and permeating, others being fluid and easily moved, and the common metals being as useful, in con- sequence of their solidity and coherence, as the gases are in virtue of their elasticity and mobility. But admitting all this, we are still inclined to think that it is chiefly in the adaptation of these substances with their properties to each other that we are to discover the presence and the wisdom of God, We may discover the wisdom of the Disposer of all things in the adjustment of nature in respect of four classes of relations. There is the relation of bodies in respect (1.) of their properties, (2.) of their quantity, (3.) of space, and (4.) of time. It may be interesting and instructive to contemplate some examples of each of these classes. Since the relations here referred to belong to various classes, we prefer the words adjustment or adaptation to collocation or disposition, (the words employed by Dr. Chal- mers,) in so far as the latter direct our attention merely to that class which originates in the relations of space.* In the illus- trations which follow, we have a double object in view ; the one to show that there are such adjustments in nature ; and the other, and an ulterior one, to unfold the processes by which general laws are produced. First, There is the adjustment of bodies in respect op their properties. This is the basis of all the other adjustments. Bodies have a power of uniting in chemical and mechanical •combination, and, again, a susceptibility of separation. They have also magnetic or diamagnetic- powers, electric attractions and repulsions, and affections or actions in reference to the ■absorption, reflexion, and refraction of light, and the radiation and * Mill talks of the aptly selected phrase of Dr. Chalmers, and has made a profit- able use of the principle. We are better pleased with the principle than with tha phrase employed to express it. See Mill's Logic, B. iii. c, xii. § 2. WITH TIIEIK PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER. SO conduction of heat. Each body has in these respects its own pro- perties in reference to other bodies. Nature is sustained by their liarnionioiis adaptations. But in order to their operation, the bodies must have a reh^tion to suit the action of their properties " The woild," says Faraday, " with its ponderable constituents, dead and living, is made up of natural elements endowed with nicely balanced affections, attractions, or forces. Elements the most diverse, of tendencies the most opposed, of powers the most varied ; some so inert, that to a casual observer, they would seem to count for nothing in the grand resultant of forces ; some, on the other hand, endowed with qualities so violent, that they would seem to tin-eaten the stability of creation ; yet, when scrutinized more narrowly, and examined with relation to the parts they are destined to fulfil, are found to be accordant with one great scheme of harmonious adaptation. The powers of not one ele- ment could be modified without destroying at once the balance of harmonics, and involving in one ruin the economy of the world." * Every one knows how needful the atmosphere is for the sus- taining of animal and vegetable life. When air is inhaled bv a living being, its oxygen unites with the carbon of the blood to produce carbonic acid ; and the combination being a kind of com- bustion, is one source of the heat necessary to the preservation of the frame. But for the skilful composition of the atmosphere and the greater disposition of oxygen to unite with carbon than with nitrogen, and the production of heat by the chemical combination of carbon and oxygen, it is evident that animation could not be sustained. It appears that a slight change in the composition of the atmosphere, or even the chemical instead of the mechanical combination of its two elements, would render it no longer capable of accomplishing these ends. And it is by a most skilfully arranged process that the atmosphere, amid the changes which it undergoes in fulfilling its oflSces, is still enabled to retain its' purity. The germination of plants, and the respira- tion of animals, are constantly active in producing carbonic acid, and in setting nitrogen free. But these in excess would give the air a deadly tendency, and this is prevented by a beautiful pro- vision, whereby the carbon of the carbonic acid is absorbed Dy plants, as being necessary for their sustenance, and in the * Lectures on Non-Metallic Elements, pp. 290, 291. 90 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES absorption the oxygen is set free to join the superfluous nitrogen liberated by the other processes. The animal and vegetable kingdoms are thus made to balance and sustain each other, according to a general law ; but this, be it observed, by means of the most skilfully arranged adjustment of the properties of bodies to each other. The different powers which bodies have of absorbing and radiating heat also furnish illustrations of the skilful adjust- ments with which nature abounds. The grass and foliage ab- sorb heat in the summer season, during the day, and again radiate it into the clear atmosphere at night, till the plants are so reduced in temperature as to congeal the moisture floating in the air into the dew necessary to refresh them. Every separate plant has its peculiar power in this respect, and by means of the. colour of its leaves keeps the measure of heat, and seeks the measure of dew needful to its wellbeing. How curious, too, that circuit according to which the earth receives heat from the beams of the sun while it is above the horizon, again to give out, when the sun has set, that heat to the air, whose temperature is thus equalized ! There is a singular coun- terpart process by which moisture is evaporated into the air by the heat during the day, and again given back to the earth at night, fulfilling important functions in both these positions. Such circuits as these abound in the works of God, and indi- cate a nice and constantly sustained adjustment. There is such a rotation in that system according to which rude matter is first taken into vegetable composition, then enters the animal frame as food, and in the end returns to the ground to restore its proper composition. Another equally beautiful circle is described ■by those processes, in which moisture is evaporated from the land and sea, refreshes the air above, and thence descends upon the ground to revive its life, and to gush out in streams ; the waters of which, after serving many bountiful purposes, again find their way back to the ocean. There is doubtless a similar balancing in the method by which the ocean is kept in a healthy state, suited to the organisms which live in it. Aquavivaria have been formed in which any pollution produced by plants has been counteracted by the introduction of certain molluscs, and the water maintained in purity for years. This artificial process seems to be founded upon, and to imply a natural bal- WITH THEIR PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER. 91 tnce of vegetable and animal organisms in the great ocean. No- should it be forgotten that meteorology promises to be exalted into a science by the late discoveries, in regard to the " wind returning according to his circuits." Now, all these balanced and balancing processes necessarily involve the most skilful adjustments of the properties of ak, earth, and water, and of organic and animal life the one to the other. Secondly, There is the adjustment of bodies in respect TO quantity. We have just been noticing how needful it is that the atmos- phere should keep its present composition. That composition is approximately as follows, in tons : — Nitrogen, 3,994,592,925,000,000 Oxygen, 1,233,010,020,000,000 Carbonic Acid, 5,287,305,000,000 Aqueous Vapour, 54,459,750,000,000 5,287,350,000,000,000 The four elements of the atmosphere — oxygen, nitrogen, car- bon, and hydrogen — are also the essential elements of all vege- table and animal substances; and the two, the atmosphere above and organized substances on tlie earth, being thus to a great extent the same in their composition, are made to sustain each other's fimctions. For the respiration of human beings, one thousand millions of pounds of oxygen are daily required, and four times this quantity are necessary for all the functions of nature, including the respiration of man and animals, combus- tion, fermentation, and decay. The very statement is sufficient to show how admirable the adjustment of the relative mass and the total mass of these separate elements must be, in order to' keep in motion the mechanism of nature. An atmosphere of a different composition, or liable to material changes in respect of any of its component parts, would have been utterly unfitted to support either animal or vegetable existence. Every one knows how powerful an influence the ocean exercises upon the temperature of our globe. A change in the quantity of its waters, or in their distribution, might speedily extinguish both the flora and fauna of the earth. It has been shown, that, in order to the existence of organic beings, there must be the most skilful adjustment between their structure and habits on the 92 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES one hand, and the distribution of land and water on the other. An increase or diminution to a considerable extent of the bulk of the waters of the ocean, and consequently of their equalizing influence, would so affect the temperature as to render it doubtful if any of the existing species of plants and animals could survive. The mass of our planet, with its power of gravity, is in admir- able adaptation to the plants which grow upon its surface, and the living beings that people it. Were our earth much larger or much less than it is, the force with which it attracted bodies at its surface would be so different, that the greater number of the plants would die, and the animals which did not become extinct would lead a burdensome existence. It seems that plants pump up, by means of some internal force, the sap which is needful for their sustenance. It requires no little force thus to raise the sap till it reaches every branch and leaf of the living tree. An ex- periment has been tried with a vine at the bleeding season. A branch of a growing plant was amputated, and a glass tube was placed upon the stump, and the sap was pushed to no less a height than twenty-one feet in the tube, Now, were the earth heavier than it is, and consequently the power of gravity increased, the plant could not with its present organization draw up the necessary moisture ; and on the other hand, were the force of gravity lessened, the sap would rise so I'apidly as to derange all the functions of the plant. The author from whom we have taken this illustration also supplies us with another in the flowers that hang their heads, in the structure of which it is arranged that the pistils are longer than the stamens ; and thus the dust needful for the fertility of the flower is enabled to fall from the extremity of the stamens upon the extremity of the pistil. "An earth greater or smaller, denser or rarer, than the one on which we live, would require a change in the structure and strength of the footstalks of all the little flowers that hang their heads under our hedges. There is something curious in thus considering the whole mass from pole to pole, and from circumference to centre, as employed in keeping a snow-drop in the position most suited to the promo- tion of its vegetable health."* We find, too, that the size of the earth bears an admirable relation to the muscular strength of man and animals. Were the earth increased or lessened in its mass, the greatest inconvenience * Whewell's Astronomy and Physics, p. 48. WITH THEIR PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER, 93 would follow. Were our planet, for instance, as large as Jupiter, or Saturn, or Neptune, motion would be oppressive in the extreme to every living being. The hare would crawl like the sloth ; the eagle's flight would be less extended than that of our domestic ani- mals ; and man, as if moving under a heavy burden, would become* exhausted, and fall down to the ground upon the least exertion. Nor is it to be forgotten that in such a case the air would become so dense that no animal could breathe it, and press so heavily that it is doubtful if any animal could sustain the weight. On the other hand, were the earth as small as Mercury or the Moon, the animal would be exposed to opposite inconveniences : all our motions would be unstable and uncertain, like that of a person in a state of intoxication ; every blow directed against us would prostrate us to the ground, while the air would become so thin as to be incapable of supporting animal life. In the one state of things, man would be like a captive loaded with chains, and in the other, like a person dizzy and staggering through feverishness and loss of blood. Thirdly, There is the adjustment of bodies with their properties in respect of space. These skilful collocations abound on the earth : as in the posi- tion of the organs in the animal and vegetable frames, so exactly adapted to their functions ;, and in the distribution of plants and animals over the surfece of the globe, so nicely accordant with the situation and climate. Nature exhibits no such anomalies as an eye placed in the foot, or toes groA\'ing on the head, as a camel produced in the arctic and a rein-deer in the torrid regions. But the adaptations of this description may be scon most distinctly in the heavenly bodies. We can conceive the properties of matter to be as they are, and yet the result only a jumble of incongruities, because the bodies happened to be too near each other, or at too great a distance. If the moon, for instance, had been much nearer the earth than it is, the tides of the ocean would have run so high that navigation must have been all but impossible. The plane- tary system would never have moved, or would long ago have gone to wreck, if, along with the present laws, there had not also been a skilful collocation of the various bodies. The profound mind of Newton thought it inexplicable by natural causes, and to be ascribed to the counsel and contrivance of a voluntary 94 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES agent, that tbo body placed in the centre of the system should have been the only one qualified to give to all the rest the light and heat without which their organisms would have perished. It is conceivable that all the present bodies might exist in the solar system, and obey the law of gravitation, and yet only con- fusion be the result. The planets might have been so placed as to be ever clashing with and disturbing each other in their spheres ; and the law of gravitation, from its very potency, would be the means of propagating a wider disorder. The conditions needful for the proper working and stability of the planetary system are — first, that almost all the planets move round the sun, in nearly the planes of the sun's equator ; secondly, that they all revolve round the sun in the same direction, which is that of the sun's rotation on his axis ; thirdly, that they rotate on their axes also in that direction ; and, fourthly, that the satellites move round the primaries in the same direction. In all these adjustments we are constrained to observe a prescient Intelli- gence. We see that such language as that of Pont^coulant is as philosophically incorrect as it is impious and profane, when he talks of " the great law of universal gravitation as probably the only efficient principle of the creation of the physical w^orld as it is of its preservation."* So ftir from the law of gravitation being a principle of creation, it need^s an adjustment made to it as the condition of its beneficial action. Fourthly, There is the adjustment of bodies to each OTHER IN respect OF TIME. Such adaptations are very numerous in the animal economy, where organs appear at the very time at which they are needed. The teeth, which would be useless to the infant, and worse than useless to the infant's mother, appear as soon as they can be of advantage. This illustration suggests another, supplied by that beautiful provision of nature according to which the mother's milk flows at the very period when the wants of her new-born infant require it. " It has been adduced as a striking illustra- * Quoted in Nichol's Thoughts, p. 85. We may add, that even on the suppo- sition that the planetary system has heen formed by the cooling of a rotating mass of sidereal matter, according to the hypothesis of Laplace, we are constrained to discover adaptations in the original composition and properties of the sidereal matter, in its rotation, in the laws of the cooling process, and in the planets, (at least the earth,) being cast off in a state fitting them to support animated existence, &c. WITH THEIR PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER. 9/) tion of the Divine foresight, that the season of the birth of the young of certain animals should be adjusted to the season of tho year, and to the period of the food most conducive to its well- being ; the preparation for the birth of the animal, and the prejiaration for the birtli of its food, (say the larva} of insects.) dating from very difiercnt points of time."''' Every one acquainted with the elements of geology is aware that, in the past history of our earth, there must have been numberless such adaptations, in the plants and animals being suited to the particular era, with its temperature and moisture. Whewcll has supplied us with an illustration, serving to connect heavenly with terrestrial phenomena, w'hen he demonstrates that there is a connexion between the length of the year and the continued existence of the plants of the earth. The rising of the sap, the formation of the juices, the opening of the leaves and flowers, the ripening of the seed, and the drying and ma- turing of it for producing a new plant — these processes require a certain period, and no period would suit but the actual year of 3G5 days — that is, the time which the earth takes to complete its revolution round the sun. We are thus led to discover a singular, and, we believe, divinely ordained, adaptation between two things which have no physical connexion — the seasons of the plants on the one hand, and the seasons of the earth in its orbit on the other. These four classes of adjustment, compounded in all varieties of ways, furnish those innumerable traces of design whicli are so abundant in the works of God, and some few of whicli have been developed by writers on natural theology .f As the most wonder- * Harris. f There arc certain philosophers who arc ever talking of the laws of nature, as if they couUl accomplish all that we see in the earth and heavens without the necessity of calling in any divine skill to arrange them. We have sometimes thought that it might be an appropriate punishment to deal with such persons as Jupiter did with those who complained to him of the way in which he regulated the weather. We would give the philosophers referred to a world of their own, with all the substances of nature, and their properties labelled upon them, and arranged according to human science, much like the articles in a museum or an apothecary's shop. We would place the mineralogist over the metals, the anato- mist over the animals, and the botanist over the vegetable substances ; we would give the meteorologist charge of the atmosphere and rain, and we would furnish the astronomer with those nebulce out of which it is supposed that stars are formed, as webs are fashioned out of fleeces of wool. Having called these philosopherg OG ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES ful example of these various adjustments combined, we are in- clined to mention the organization of plants and animals. Such organization implies the nicest mutual adjustment of the consti- tuents of the body, in their proper quantity and proportion, all coming and departing at the time required, and in order to the production and development of the form of the body. " Organi- zation," says Cuvier,* " results from a great number of disposi- tions or arrangements which are conditions of life ;" and he adds, " the general motion would be arrested if any of these conditions should be altered, or even upon the arresting of any of the partial motions of which it is composed." We look upon the words " organization" and '"' organic life" as general names for a most wonderful adjustment of physical sub- stances for the production of certain ends. It may be all very proper to speak of a principle of life as a brief expression for a general phenomenon. But, as Dr. Carpenter remarks, " the only sense in which the term ' vital principle' can be properly used, is as a convenient and concise expression for the sum total (so to speak) of the powers which are developed by the vital properties or organized structures — these being not yet fully understood, and the conditions of their exercise being but imperfectly known." f Let us not, then, deceive ourselves with the words M'hich we employ, and suppose that life is one indivisible and independent principle ; a loose but most unfounded idea, lying at the bottom of that form of pantheism which says, that the universe, being possessed of a principle of life, is God. In referring certain operations to the principle of life, we have not explained them, any more than we have accounted for fire, by referring it to the combustible principle. A true explanation must exhibit to us the mechanical, chemical, electric, and, above all, the vital together in cabinet council, ■we would there commit to them these principia of worlds. Taking care to retire to a respectful distance for safety, it might be curious to listen to their disputes with one another ; and then, when they bad arranged their plans of operation, to find the chemist blown up by his own gases, the mineralogist sinking in the excavations which he bad made, the anatomist groaning under disease, the botanist pining for hunger, the weather-regulator deluged with his own rain, and the astronomer driven ten thousand leagues into space by the recalcitration of some refractory planet. We may be sure that these philosophers would be the first to beg of Him who is the Disposer as well as the Creator of all things, to resume the government of his own world. * Eegne Animal, Introduction. f Manual of Physiology, B. i. c. i. 2. WITH THEIR PR0PEKTIE3 TO EACH OTHER. 97 properties of the parts of the living body, together with the conditions needful to their opercation. Oeganizatiox is a system of arrangements whereby the par- ticles of which the body is composed, acting according to their properties, do, by means of such processes as absorption, assimi- lation, and exhalation, produce and develop certain forms which continue for a time, and generate other organic life of the same species. Organic Life is a generic name for those properties which matter possesses only in its organized state, or that state of peculiar adjustment which is called organization. These vital properties differ as much from the mechanical and chemi- cal, as the mechanical and chemical do from one another. At- tempts are being made to discover what these properties are, as possessed by cells, by tissues, by tubes, by nerves, and we find them to be such as that of absorption, of contractility, of irrita- bility. Like all the other properties of matter, they are powers by which one body acts on another, and in order to action there is therefore need of other matter, organized or unorganized. Hence we find that all organized bodies require nourishment, on which the vital properties act in the way of assimilation and absorption. Not only so, but in order to action there must be stimuli, such as light, heat, moisture, and electricity, which are necessary conditions of all vital operation. No vital activity can manifest itself without the concurrence both of the organism and the external agent. " Thus, a seed does not germinate of itself; it requires the influence of certain external agencies, namely, warmth, air, and moisture ; and it can no more produce a plant without the operation of these, than warmth, air, and moisture could produce it without a germ prepared by a pre- existino; or2;anism."* * Manual of Physiology, B. i. c. ii. 2d ed. We like the phrase " correlation of the physical forces," employed by Mr. Grove to denote the intimate connexion which there is between the various physical forces, and their power of calling forth each other in determinable measure. We believe, too, that Carpenter and Matteucci have shown that there is a similar correlation between the physical and vital Ibrccs. The authors now deferred to are quite aware that correlation is not iden- tity, and hence they are careful to explain that they do not look upon the forces as being all the same. But there is language employed by them which seems to imply that one force can be transmuted into another — a doctrine which is not supported by anything like valid evidence, and is contrary to the whole analogy of nature, which shows us, amidst constant changes, a constant permanence ol O 98 ADJUSTMENT OF THE MATERIAL SUBSTANCES There is a vast number of arrangements needful in order to the germination of the simplest seed, a still greater number in order to the action of the more complicated organs, and a number great beyond all calculation in order to the sustaining of a v.iiole plant or animal. We believe that organism in every case will be found to be the result of arrangements more won- derful than the amazingly skilful collocation of the bodies in the solar system. There is a more delicate adjustment required in order to make our muscles play, or the organisms of plants to fulfil their fanction, than to make a planet revolve in its orbit. We rejoice in all those experiments which are being made in order to discover the as yet latent machinery of the living power. Every true discovery in this department will tend, we are con • vinced, to enhance our idea of the riches of the Divine wisdom. We see then how much truth, as well as how much error, there is in the ancient Platonic idea that the world is an animal — an idea which some of the Germans and Anglo-Germans are seeking to revive. Nature, considered as a whole, resembles an organism much more than a human machine. In mechanical operation it is the same matter performing the same work. But in nature, as in organic life, there is a continual shifting of the agents and elements ; and in the one, as in the other, there is a constant uniformity amid constant change. Like all bodies pos- sessed of life, nature has its times and its seasons. It recruits itself like the plant ; it renews its age like the eagle. The pre- sent is the fruit of the past, and bears the seed of the future. '• I for my part declare," says Carlyle, '" tlie werld to be no machine. I say that it does not go by wheel and pinion, motives, self-interests, checks, and balances."* But if the world is not a machine, just as little is it a tree, a plant, an animal. It can- not be explained by mechanical principles, but just as little can it be explained by vital principles. No doubt it has a wonder- ful organization, but it has nothing in it corresponding to the vital properties of plants, and still less has it anything like the sensation possessed by the animal creation. So far as it does resemble the organization of plants, we are the more impressed with the wisdom involved in the multiplied substance and property. We say property, for matter possesses other qualities than that of mere force. As tc allotropism, see Appendix II. * Heroes and Hero-Worship, Lect. 6. WITH THEIR PROPERTIES TO EACH OTHER. 99 contrivances required to sustain its continuous activity. For ol all parts of nature, organisms are the most dependent on ar- rangements which have been made by a higher power. The principle of life is not an uncreated self-acting power, but is the result of constructions made with unparalleled skill ; and we feel, in regard to it, that there is no part of nature so dependent on God. There is a similar multiplicity, and to an inconceivably greater extent, in those arrangements by which the world is sus- tained and made to perform its functions ; and we feel as if, be- sides the power required to support each part of nature, there were a still more wonderful power necessary to uphold it in its agency as a connected whole. SECT. III. — SPECIAL ADJUSTMENTS REQUIRED IN ORDER TO PRODUCE GENERAL LAWS OR RESULTS. The material world, we have seen, (Sect. I.,) is constituted of substances capable of affecting each other according to certain defined rules, which it is the office of observation to discover, and these substances produce effects when two or more are ad- justed to each other in respect of the rule of their operation. In his infinite wisdom and goodness, God has so arranged these substances that beneficent results follow. (See Sect. II.) Some of these results are of an individual character, and may never occur again in precisely the same form. These will fall to be considered in the succeeding chapter on Providence. Others are of a general character, and may take the form of general laws in the third sense of the term as above explained. It is upon these that we are now to fix our attention. They are the principal means of producing order throughout the visible universe. Proceeding in a deductive method, we might show that, as two or more substances when adjusted produce an individual effect, so two or more causes adjusted produce a general effect. Caloric coming in contact with the nerves and producing the sensation of heat — this is an instance of a particular efi'ect fol- lowing an adjustment. A body radiating caloric so placed as to emit its heat upon the bodies of animals in a regular manner — the sun, for instance, on the approach of summer raising the myriads of living insects which were dormant during winter — 100 SPECIAL ADJUSTMENTS KEQUIRED this is an example of an adjustment of causes producing a general effect. But it may be more interesting and satisfactory, perhaps, to proceed in an indu jtive method, and to observe first the general laws or results which abound in every department of nature, and then show how they all proceed from a nice ar- rangement of causes. The history of science shows that it has made i)rogress after this method, first observing the general laws of phenomena, and from these rising to causes, and the conditions of their operation. From the very earliest ages mankind felt an interest in ob- serving certain general laws or facts in regard to the motions of the heavenly bodies. The priests of India, the shepherds of Chaldea, and the husbandmen of Egypt, began to notice tho more useful or the more sta,rtling facts, and handed down theii observations by tradition, and otherwise, to succeeding genera- tions. These observed facts grew in number and value with advancing knowledge ; and every modern astronomer is amazed «.t the extent and accuracy of the information amassed at length l)y the astronomers of the Greek and Alexandrian schools. But while these parties attained to a most extensive knowledge of fiicts, particular and general, these latter being laws, they were altogether in error as to the causes of the motions which they observed and recorded. Kepler completed this class of inquiries, so far as the planets ^vei'Q concerned, and famished a generaliza- tion as large and correct as could possibly be attained by mere observation. The comprehensive mind of Newton rose above the mere observation of such general phenomena to the discovery of a cause, in a property with which all matter, so far as it comes under our notice, is endowed, and according to which it attracts other matter inversely according to the square of the distance. It was now seen that all those other general facts, still so useful in astronomy, proceeded from this general property of matter, and from the harmonious arrangement of the heavenly bodies, ia regard to their bulk and situation, and the direction of their motion. We thus perceive that in the heavenly bodies tliei'o are certain general harmonies and beneficent arrangements, such as the alternation of day and night, and the revolution of the seasons, which can be noticed independently of all inquiry into causes ; and that the causes, when discovered, are found to con- sist not in a single property of matter, but also, and more espe- TO PBODUCE QENERAL LAWS OR RESULTS. 101 cially, in the skilful dispositions which have been made with that property as one of the constituents. Another and a cognate example is suggested. The regular motion of the tides must have been observed from the time that nien dwelt by the sea-coast, or the first adventurer committed him- self to the waters of the ocean ; nor would it be difficult to deter- mine their general periods of ebbing and flowing. But no explana- tion was given of the observed facts till Newton's discovery, when it was found to result from the law of gravitation, as connected with the size and distance of the moon, the magnitude of the earth, and the fluidity and specific gravity of the waters of the ocean. Take another illustration. The regular blowing of the trade winds must have been discovered at a very early period of the history of the world. The person who was acquainted with the way in which these winds usually blow was possessed of a gene- ral fact. It is only of late years, however, that any attempt has been made to find a cause of this general result, lying, it is sup- posed, in the motion of the earth round its axis, as connected wnth the laws of the atmosphere, and the particular distribution of land and water. The air lieated at the surface of the earth in the tropical regions rises to a higher level, and flows towards the poles, where it is cooled, and thence flows back to the equa- tor, being modified in its current, however, by the motion of the earth on its axis, by the extent of the ocean in the tropics, and by its relation to the land. The person who observes the gene- ral current of the air is in possession of a generalized fact which it is most useful to know ; the inquiry into the causes of that fact conducts us into another field, in which we investigate the properties of air, earth, and water in their reference to each other. In much the same way we find that the Gulf-stream was observed long before any particular cause could be assigned ; and that the periodical rising of the waters of the Nile was known and correctly registered, when there were many disputes as to the circumstances which produce it. Here it may be of some importance to remark, that natural history has very much, if not altogether, to do with the obser- vation of the general facts or results, proceeding from the skilful adjustments made by the Maker of all things, rather tlian with causes. In investigating the vegetable and animal kingdoms, the inquirer arranges animals and plants into species and genera 102 SPECIAL ADJUSTMENTS REQUIRED by the parts which they have ia common ; and as he advances he observes other resemblances less obvious, till he rises to the highest possible generalizations. At the same time, it should be remembered that these general facts — the forms and develop- ments of organic bodies, and their general resemblances whereby they are classified — all originate in particular properties of matter, organized and unorganized, and in the skilful arrange- ments that have been made by the Creator. While the mere student of natural history does not feel that it is his province to inquire into such causes, others will not be prevented from pur- suing the investigation this length, and from endeavouring to determine the mechanical, chemical, and organic properties by which life is sustained ; and the disclosures, we are persuaded, if not so grand, will in many respects be more wonderful than those which have been revealed in the study of the planetary system. It appears, then, that in investigating the works of nature, our object may be to refer a given phenomenon to a general rule, or to refer it to a cause. These inquiries differ from each other, though they are often confounded. In the one the inquirer is seeking after a class of facts, and in the other, after what produced these facts ; in the one he discovers resemblances, in the other he reaches power or property. The latter, if pro- secuted sufficiently far, will lead to the discovery of a great First Cause, and the former is ever furnishing new illustrations of the wisdom residing in that Cause. But this is not the precise end which we have been seeking to reach by means of this induction ; we think that we have satisfactorily established two very important truths. The first is, that the loorhs of God are full of general facts or laws — most of them obvious to all who take the pains to inquire into them, and capable of being discovered independently/ of any examination of their causes. The second is, that these general laius are the residt of a number of arrangements. The very operation of a cause, we have seen, implies the presence of two or more bodies in a certain relation to each other ; but a general flict implies more — it implies an adjustment of the causes with the view of yield- ing such general results. These truths are so important that they demand some farther illustration. Conceive a mariner observing, as his vessel sails TO PKODUCE GENERAL LAWS OR RESULTS, 103 along a difficult coast, the lighthouses which line it. One, he finds has a steady white light, another is intermittent, a third flashes once every five or ten seconds, and a fourth is revolving, and shows alternately a red and white light. For his special purposes, the sailor is satisfied when he has observed these appearances of the lighthouses. He sees, for instance, a light- house which shows alternately a red and white light every two minutes, and he ascertains, by inspection of a nautical almanac, that it is planted on a certain rock. On all future occasions, the very sight of that same alternating light is sufficient to indi- cate at what part of the coast he is. But there is a person of an inquiring turn of mind, or a mechanic sailing in the same vessel, and he will not be satisfied with these mere observations. Determined to ascertain the cause of the evident phenomena, he would make inquiries as to the shape and structure of the lighthouse, as to the metal and glass, and the light and machin- ery employed in it. This man may arrive at farther knowledge than the mariner possesses, and knowledge that may be useful for other purposes. Now, we have here a picture of the method which the mind commonly pursues in its inquiries into the works of God, It first observes and generalizes its observations, as the mariner watches the lights beaming in the darkness, and groups them into the various lighthouses. But the inquiring spirit will not rest satisfied with tliis. Even for practical purposes, it finds it useful not only to know the general fiict, but also the cause from which it has sprung. And in all speculative inquiries as to the production of any event, it knows that a general rule, while it may be eminently useful, is yet no explanation, and it seeks for those antecedent circumstances which have produced the result, and which will produce it again. But our object in bringing this distinction under notice is to show that nature abounds in orderly facts and results, which mankind observe, and are enabled in consequence to suit them- selves to the world in which they dwell, just as the mariner, by observing the regular flashing of the alternate lights, can ascer- tain at what part of the coast he is. Our farther, and indeed especial, object is to show that these orderly results all imply a multiplicity of ingenious arrangements, just as in the lighthouse it is implied, that the light be adjusted to the silver that reflecta 104 SPECIAL ADJUSTMENTS REQUIKED it, or the glass that coRcentrates it, and so adjusted as to pro- duce these regular or intermittent flashes. There is a double adjustment in the system of lighthouses — the adjustment where- by the light is afforded, and the adjustment whereby there is a result according to rule presented to the mariner. Now, we maintain that nature is full of such adjustments. There is not only the adjustment of properties so as to produce causes, but the adj ustment of causes acting independently of each other so as to produce uniform effects. Another illustration may perhaps set this truth in a still clearer light. The person who observes that the hour-hand of a watch makes a complete revolution twice while the earth revolves in its orbit once, has obtained what is equivalent to a general law of nature ; when he observes that the minute- hand makes twelve revolutions while the hour-hand makes one, he has got what is analogous to a second general law ; and when he notices how the second-hand makes sixty revolutions while the minute-hand makes one, he has arrived at a third general law. As soon as he becomes acquainted with these three general facts, he has all the knowledge, required to enable him to make a practical use of the watch. But whoever wishes to know the causes or manner of production must inspect the work within, when he will find that the regular movement of the hands upon the dial is the result of ingeniously contrived machinery. Now, the general laws of nature correspond to these orderly movements of the hands, and a knowledge of them is all that is needful to guide us in the business of life. If the husbandman knows the time of the. rising and setting of that timepiece which God has placed in these heavens, he can arrange all his agricultural operations without knowing the cosmical arrangements from which the movements of the seasons x>ro- ceed, without having it settled whether the earth goes round the sun, or the sun goes round the earth. But if he would become a philosopher, and deterrrine the causes of these to him so bene- ficent movements, he must ascertain those dispositions of sun and planet by which they ire produced. We can conceive of a world in which there might be the opera- tion of causation, and yet few or no general results. A cause in the same circumstances produces *-he same effects ; but in the eupposed world the same circumstances might not recur, or noj TO PRODUCE GENERAL LAWS OR RESULTS. 105 recur after any general rule, and thus there would be nothing but confusion, even with a series of uniform sequences. It re- quires adaptation upon adaptation, the adaptation of substance to substance, and of cause to cause, to produce those regular results in which nature abounds, and which, as we shall proceed to show in the next section, are so suited to the constitution of man. We see liow superficial are the views of those who congratu- late themselves in the thought, that they have explained any given phenomenon when they have referred it to a law. We had occasion to remark formerly, that, in ascribing an event to a general law, so flir from explaining its production, there is only brought under our notice other objects so far resembling it, and equally with it demanding explanation. But we can now go a Gtep farther, and notice how in this general law there must be a number of adjustments implied, additional to those involved in the production of a single effect. When phenomena, falling out according to a law, are brought before us, we have now to determine not only the adjustments which produce the separate events, but also the adjustments which produce them according to a law. In referring a phenomenon to a law, we are mul- tiplying the wonders of nature, in so far as we are bringing into view not only other phenomena which require to be accounted for, but an order among them requiring also to be explained.'-"^ * We see, now, the error of all those who never go beyond laws and dcvelop- ments. M. Comte boasts that he has established a positive philosophy, free from all theory, and seems to think that science can never rise beyond general laws. But positive philosophy tells us that there is never a phenomenon without a cause, never a general phenomenon, or class of phenomena, without a general cause ; and it is from the adjusted relations of these general causes, that we ascend, by means of the clearest principles of a positive philosophy, to the belief in an Intelligenco presiding over the universe. Mr. J. S. Mill acknowledges the existence of causes, but regards them as mere laws of succession, without discovering any potency in the cause to produce its effect. Hence his error in supposing that there can bo no such thing as explanation. (See Book iii. chap, xii.) We agree with him in thinking that when vr. refer a phenomenon to a law, we do not explain it, but when we discover a c.iuse we have found an explanation of its occurrence. True, this cause may also have a cause, but as we trace up causes in this way we como at last to a power, which accounts for all causes and effects. We are glad to find Humboldt declaring, (Cosmos, Vol. iii. p. 7, Otte's translation,) that the highest, though more rarely attained aim of all natural inquiry, is the discovery of caitsal connexion. It is surely to be regretted that one, who has swept as on angcl'a wings through physical creation, should not have delighted to make reference to the Creator, in whom, we happen to know, he firmly believed. 106 SPECIAL ADJUSTMENTS KEQUIRED There are in nature no other inherent powers than those whiuli reside in the separate substances, and which we call their pro- perties. It appears to us that the creation of the substances, tlie imparting to them of their properties, and their mutual arrange- ments, all proceed from the same Divine hand. But though it were admitted, for the sake of argument, that these properties in themselves furnished no indication of a Creator, still we could have abundant evidence of the existence of a designing mind in the adjustment of them, so as to admit of their beneficial opera- tion, and in the ingenious and complex arrangements requisite in order to events falling out in that orderly manner which we call general laws. So far from general laws heing able, as superficial thinkers imagine, to 2^roduce the beautiful adapta- tions lohich are so numerous in nature, they are themselves the residts of nicely balanced and shilful adjustments. So far from being simple, they are the product of many arrangements ; just as the hum which comes from a city, and which may seem a simple sound, is the joint effect of many blended voices ; just as the musical note is the effect of numerous vibrations ; just as the curious circular atoll-reefs met with in the South Seas are the product of millions of insects. So far from being independent principles, they are dependent on many other principles. They are not agencies, but ends contemplated by Him who adjiistetl the physical agencies which produced them. As such they be- come the rules of God's house— the laws of his kingdom ; and wherever we see such laws, there we see the certain traces of a Lawgiver.* We see, too, that general laws have no necessary existence. Properties are permanent in the substance, and can only be destroyed with the destruction of the substance. Causes must act when needful arrangements are provided. But general laws may change with changing circumstances. Without any change of the bodies in the universe, without any change in their i)i'o- perties, there might be a complete change — as by the shifting of the scenery in a theatre — in the general laws or order of nature. * If these views are correct, the principle laid down by Dr. Chalmers is not a distinction between the laws of matter and the collocations of matter, but a distinc- tion between the properties of matter, and the adjustments required in order to their action. We see, farther, that the principle is so extensive in its application, that general laws, in the proper sense of the term, are the result of collocations or adjustments of some kind. TO PEODUCE GENERAL LAWS OR RESULTS. 107 Without creating one new material substance, or destroying any of the existing 'Ones, God may accomplish that change — rather than destniction, to which the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews points, as the precursor of the new heavens and new earth — " As a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed." Illustrative Note (b.)— LAWS OF PHENOMENA, CAUSES OF PHENOMENA, CONDITIONS OF THE OPERATION OF CAUSES. The views partially exhibited in the text are fitted, if carried out, to furnish, in our apprehension, some assistance in introducing order into a topic which is still somewhat confused — the logic of physical investigation. We must not be tempted to enter far into a subject ■which we feel ourselves incapacitated to grapple with in all its extent. The few observations which we have to offer may be i)est de- livered in the shape of a brief review of the two learned and philosophical works of Dr. Whewell on the History and Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. This author, throughout these works, has made a frequent and profitable use of the distinction between the inquiry into the laics of phenomena and the causes of phenomena. " Inductive truths are of two kinds — laws of phenomena, and theories of causes. It is necessary to begin in every science with the laws of phenomena, but it is impossible that we should be satisfied to stop short of a theory of causes. In physical astronomy, physical optics, geology, and other sciences, we have instances showing that we can make a great advance in inquiries after the true theories of causes."* In illustrating this remark, he states, that in " their first attempts men discovered an order which the phenomena follow, rules which they obey ; but they did not come in sight of the powers by which these rules are determined — the causes of which this order is the effect. Thus, for example, they found that many of the celestial motions took place, as if the sun and stars were carried round by the revolution of certain celestial spheres ; but what causes kept these spheres in constant motion they were never able to explain. In like manner, in modern times, Kepler discovered that the planets describe ellipses before Newton explained why they select this particular course, and describe it in a particular manner. The laws of reflection, refraction, dispersion, and other properties of light, have long been known; the causes of these laws are at present under discussion." "Hence the larger part of our knowledge of nature, at least of the certain portion of it, consists of the knowledge of the laws of phenomena. In astronomy, indeed, besides knowing the rules which guide the appearances, and resolving them into the real motions from which tlioj' arise, we can refer these motions to the forces which produce them. In optica, we have become acquainted with a vast number of laws, by which varied and beautiful phenomena are governed ; and perhaps we may assume, since the evidence of the undulatory theory has been so fully developed, th.at we know also the causes of the phenomena. But in a large class of sciences, while we have learned many laws of phenomena, the causes by which these are produced are still unknown or disputed. Are we to ascribe to the opera- tion of a fluid or fluids — and if so, in what manner — the facts of heat, magnetism, electricity, galvanism ? — what are the forces by which the elements of chemical * Philosophy of Inductive Sciences, 2d edit. toL iL Aph. concerning science, 24. 108 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. compounds are lielJ together ?— -what are the forces of a higher order, as we can- not help believing, by which the course of vital action in organized bodies is kept up ? In these and other cases, we have extensive departments of science, but we are as yet unable to trace the effects to their causes ; and our science, so far as it is positive and certain, consists entirely of the laws of phenomena."* In his work on the History of the Inductive Sciences, Whewell shows how all the sciences have been following the order now pointed out. First, in every science there is a preparatory period, or the prelude of discovery, in which inquirers are busily employed in discovering the laws of phenomena. Then, secondly, there is the period of the discovery itself Thirdly, there is the period of deduction in which the law or cause is verified, and carried out to the explanation of existing phenomena. Among the earliest discoveries in astronomy may be reckoned the formation of the notion of the year, and the grouping of the heavens into con- stellations. It was ascertained by the Chaldces that, after a certain period of years, similar sets of eclipses return. The discovery of such laws formed the prelude to the period of Hipparchus. Hipparchus resolved these phenomena into higher laws, of which epicycles and eccentrics were the best expression. Coming down to modern times, we find, first, certain useful observations as a prelude, then the dis- covery of the laws of Kepler, and a sequel to this discovery in the application of these laws to the planets and moon. The laws of Kepler, and the laws of motion as established by Galileo, were the prelude to the discovery of Newton, which dis- covery has a train of verification reaching down to the present day. Whewell endeavours to trace the same order in what he calls the secondary mechanical sciences. Thus, in optics we have a period of prelude, during which the laws of phenomena were carefully observed, and as an example, he gives Sir D. Brewster's rule for the polarizing angle of different bodies, that rule being that the index of refraction is the tangent of the angle of polarization. Such laws formed the preparation to the discovery of the undulatory theory, (supposed by AVhewell to be the true one, (as established by Young and Fresnel, and now being corrected and verified. In the science of heat, inquirers have in time past been busily employed in collecting laws of phenomena in regard to conduction, radiation, polarization, which it is hoped may speedily issue in the true theory. In chemistry, and the sciences which treat of electricity, magnetism, and galvanism, the object sought is xiple of Causation, in Appen- dix IV. H 114 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE and they serve their purpose just because they are exceptions) has a cause in some other phenomenon or created object.* God has so constituted this world, that every effect has not only a primary cause in the will of God, but an instrumental caTise in the substances whichVjrod has created and placed in the same mundane system. ISTow, all this is in admirable adaptation to the nature of man, who attains to knowledge and power by means of the circumstance, that all things are happening accord- ing to an order which he can observe, and of which he can take advantage in all his operations. The adaptation of material nature to man's constitution is thus seen, first, in the circumstance that every event has a cause ; and, secondly, in the circumstance that it has a natural cause. But there is a third class of adaptations which strike the mind still more impressively. We refer to those exhibited by the general laws or results which come under our .notice every- where, and which are the production, as we have seen, of causes ingeniously adjusted to each other. The agents of nature are so arranged into a system, or rather a system of systems, that events fall out in an orderly manner. The seasons roll on, for instance, and with them their several characteristics — the bud and promise of spring, the full-blown beauty of summer, and the fruitful riches of autumn, all terminating in the gloomy night of winter, in which nature rests and prepares for a new exertion — and this, not because the phenomena proceed from one isolated cause, l)ut because a vast vaiiety of independent agents are made to conspire for the production of one end. These general laws are the grand means of enabling us to anti- cipate the future, and to take steps for the accomplishment of our purposes. Had there been no common points of resemblance between the innumerable objects met with in nature, man must have continued in a state of helpless ignorance. He would have felt in much the same way as when carried into a large wareroora * The peculicarity of a miracle is, that it has not a cause in the natural powers operating in the Cosmos. Though not falling in with the " uniformity of nature," — which is by no means an ultimate principle, or a principle without exception, (there is, e.fj., the creation of new species of plants and animals as revealed by geology) — it is by no means inconsistent with what is truly the ultimate and intuitive principle, that " every effect has a cause :" for it has an adequate cause in the power of God. PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 115 where all the articles are in confusion, or rather where every article is incapable, even by the greatest pains, of being arranged with any other. But we find nature, instead, full of an order which can be observed by man. By means of common points of resemblance, the objects can be grouped and classified for the assistance of the memory and for the practical purposes of ex- perience. Here, again, let us remark the wonderful adaptation of mind to matter. The human mind is so constituted as to be able and disposed to observe relations, and especially resem- ulanccs, and so to group objects into classes by means of these relations; There is thus, on the one hand, a tendency in the human mind to arrange and classify ; and, on the other hand, the objects around us have multiplied relations one towards another, affording befitting exercise for the intellectual faculty, and enabling it to dispose all individual substances into a series of groups, and to connect all nature in one sublime system. It may be interesting to trace this ordination and subordination, and to observe how it prevails most in those natural objects with which man is most intimately connected, and on which his welfare specially depends. We set out with the remark, that Order proceeds from Intelligence and is suited to Intelligence. The illustrations of this principle might, if we do not mistake, furnish an argu- ment in favour of the existence of a Supreme Intelligence, of a different kiad from that derived from the mere adaptation ot parts. We enter a well-arranged shop, and we find all the articles in order. It is a stationer's shop, and we find the paper assorted in slips, each containing a certain number of sheets, and these again into bundles, each containing a known quantity of slips. It is an illustration of order in respect of Number. In the same shop there are illustrations of order in respect of Form or Figure ; for the sheets placed together have all the same shape. Or, we enter a tea or a sugar warehouse, and find all the chests or barrels containing the same quantity of the article by weight or measure. Or, we inspect a skilfully cultivated farm, and find all the ridges of the same width and of a similar slope. In the regular methods prescribed to his workmen by every intelligent master, wc observe an order in respect of Time. These are illustrations of Order which cannot proceed from chance or 116 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE caprice, hut from intelligence. And as they proceed from intel- ligence, they are also suited to intelligence. Without such an order man would become bewildered in very proportion to the profusion of his possessions. There are examples of a still higher order in the works of man. Man has not only a love of order for the sake of its utility — he has also, explain it as we please, a love of order for the sake of its beauty. We enter an elegant city, and we examine its public buildings, say the hall in which its citizens are wont to assemble, and we find every part accommodated to the classic forms which have been handed down from ancient Greece. We inspect the temple in which the inhabitants meet for the worship of God, and we find its lines following a sweep- ing curve, and reaching at last a vertex which seems to point to heaven, while the interior looks like a shaded avenue of trees. We wander over the grounds allotted to the recreation of the inhabitants, and we find them adorned with plants of divers forms and colours, arranged on a plan which furnishes unifor- mity with variety. Here, again, we recognise order produced by intelligence and for the gratification of intelligence. We are now to inquire, whether there may not be a similar Oeder in respect of such qualities as Number, Form, Time, and Colour, in the works of nature, proceeding from Creative and adapted to Created Intelligence. The mind has an aptitude and an inclination to observe rela- tions among objects in respect of such qualities as these; it looks out for them, and it is delighted when it discovers them. The mental faculty and tendency we are now to shew are met and gratified in every department of the earth and heavens. There is not a more striking correspondence between the eye and the light than there is between the intellectual capacity and appetency, and the groupings of physical nature. (1.) To begin with Chemistry, the science which treats of the composition of bodies. Dalton's discovery of the law of definite proportions shows that there is a law of numbers at the very basis of this science ; for all compositions and decomposi- tions take place according to numerical rule. The elements of nature will not combine according as we may choose to mix them, but only in certain definite proportions; and where between the same elements several combining proportions occur, PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 117 they arc related as multiples. In order to composition we must have the elements in their fixed proportions, and as the rosull of decomposition we come back to elements in a numerical rela- tion. In the same science, we have a numeiical law in tlie proportions according to volumes in which gases combine. (2.) Turning to Mineralogy, we find the commencement of those wondrous forms which play so important a part in the organic kingdoms. A careless observer is apt to conclude that no regularity exists in the shapes of the solid bodies which fall under our notice in nature. But on a more careful inspection, it will be found that the greater number of bodies which have in themselves no regular external form, present, when broken up, distinct traces of a regular or crystalline texture, and the impression is left on the mind that the entire mass is an aggre- gate of an infinity of small crystals banded together. It is certain that the greater number of minerals do assume certain geometric forms with fixed angles and proportions, and that the same mineral in the same circumstances always assumes the same crystalline form. These crystals are bounded by plane faces ; and where the crystal is fully formed, every face or sur- face has opposed to it a parallel face or surface. The number of regular forms which crystals may assume is very great, but these have been reduced to six primitive forms, which have all their defined angles and prescribed number of sides. (3.) Turning now to Physics and Astronomy, we find that the science of Acoustics is founded on the perceived relation between sound and number. The science of Optics is expressed in laws relating to angles and numbers. The angle of reflection is found to be equal to the angle of incidence ; and we have numerical tables setting forth the powers of refraction. The law of gravitation itself is a law of numbers. As Sir John Herscliel has remarked, " the law of gravitation, the most uni- versal truth at which human reason has yet arrived, expresses not merely the general fact of the mutual attraction of all matter, not merely the vague statement that its influence decreases as the distance increases, but the exact numerical rate at which that decrease takes place." The bodies submitted to this law of numbers are so arranged as to produce laws of form ; they have a particular si)heroidal shape, and move in elliptic cu-ves. The three famous laws of Kepler, which led directly to 118 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE the Newtonian discovery, are laws of form or number. These laws are, that the orbits of the planets are elliptical, that the areas described by lines drawn from the sun to the planet are proportional to the times employed in the motion, and that the squares of the periodic times are as the cubes of the distances. It is because of the constant presentation of regular curves and precise numbers in the shapes and motions of the heavenly bodies, that the science which deals with forms and numbers, that is, the Mathematics, admits of such universal application to Astronomy. It is from the same cause that we find geome- trical symmetry and arithmetical proportions casting up in all physical investigation. Forms and numbers have given to human science all its success and astonishing accuracy, and they have done so because of their universal prevalence in nature. " It is a character," says Herschel, " of all the higher laws of nature to assume the form of a precise quantitative statement." " In all that is subject to motion and change in space," says Humboldt, " mean numerical values are the ultimate object — they are indeed the expression of physical laws, they show us the constant amid change, the stable amid the flow of pheno- mena. The advance of our modern physical science is especially characterized by the attainment and progressive rectification and mean values of certain quantities by the processes of weigh- ing and measuring. The only remaining and wide diff'used hieroglyphics of our present writing — numbers — reappear, as once in the Italian school, but now in a more extended sensCj as powers of Cosmos." * All this is intended to assist the eye and mind of man, and enable him to recognise and use to advantage the works of God. It is confirmatory of these views, to find, that as we pass from the lower inorganic to the higher inorganic — such as crystals, jewels, and metals, planets, satellites, and suns — and when we rise from the inorganic to the organic, we find the numerical and symmetrical order becoming more prevalent and obvious, and apparently for the purpose of enabling us to investigate and group these more important departments of nature. Every person must have observed how often certain numbers, such as three, five, seven, and ten, occur and recur in human enumerations and transactions. Eecourse has been had to them * Herschel, Nat. Phil, Art. 116. Humboldt's Cosmos, Tart First. PBEVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 119 in all nations and languages ; superstition has declared them to be sacred, and philosophy has represented them as perfect ; anJ this circumstance is sufficient to prove that they are advanta- geous. Tiie fact that corresponding numbers meet us in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, as we are now to show, is a proof of the skilful adaptation of these departments of nature to the wants and character of mankind. (4.) In Vegetable Physiology forms and numbers hold a very important place. " The form of a living body," says Cuvier, "is still more essential to it than its matter." It may be added, that the same form is retained amid a great diversity of func- tions. Organs similar in shape serve different purposes in dif- ferent species of plants. The simple s}Tumetry — that is, with the right and left side alike — is found in minerals, but becomes more frequent among plants and animals. The oblong, or two-and-two-membered symmetry, may be traced extensively among crystals and flowers, as may also the three-membered symmetry, which is one of the characteristics of the vegetable kingdom. The square is a com- mon form in crystals, but does not seem suited to vegetable or animal organization. The pentagonal is to be found, to a limited extent, in the animal kingdom, and is by far the most common among flowers. Plants are divided into three grand classes : the first, acotyledons, without seed-lobe, such as lichens and fungi ; secondly, monocotyledons, or one-seed-lobed, to which belong grapes, liUes, and palms ; and, thirdly, dicotyle- dons, or two-seed-lobed, such as common garden plants and treeS. In some of the first of these the prevailing number is two, or multiples of two, as may be seen in the number of teeth at the mouth of the capsule of mosses. In the second it is three, or multiples of three, as in the inflorescence of the tulip. In the third it is five, as in the geranium. In the geranium we have counted five branches, five leaf-stalks, five main veins, five sepals, five petals, and multiples of five in the inner organs of the inflorescence. When a plant has two floral envelopes, the outer is called the calyx, and the inner the corolla. The calyx, or outer whorl of leaves, consists of two or more divisions called sepals, usually green ; and the corolla, of two or more divisions called petals, usually of some bright colour. Now, we find that the petals 120 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE always alternate in the most regular manner with the sepal^ and that the number of each row of either is the same. " All deviations from this law/' says Lindley, " are either apparent only, in consequence of partial cohesions, or, if real, are due to partial abortions." Again, we find that the stamens, or whorl of organs immediately within the petals, are either equal in number to the petals, and alternate with them, or, if more numerous, commonly some regular multiple of the petals. Tliis prevalence of order enabled a poet, (Goethe,) with a fine sense of analogy, to observe laws in natural history which had escaped the most rigid scientific investigation. Following out the idea of Goethe in regard to the metamorphosis of plants, we find Schleiden exhibiting to us a typical plant, and tracing all the varied parts of the diversified plants on the earth to two fundamental organs, the stem and the leaf.* The stem en- larojino- downwards forms the root and the lateral rootlets, and mounting upwards terminates in an upper end, which at last develops into a seed or seed-bud. The normal leaf branches out into a far greater diversity of forms. In the unfolding plant, there are first the seed-lobes, or cotyledons, then the leaves in the common use of the term, and at length there is the " flower," or " blossom," and in it four different degrees of development may be observed, the sepals, petals, stamens, and pistils, all of which are metamorphosed leaves, or, we would rather say, all of which are after the same general form as the common leaves. For we are not, like some who have advocated the theory, to regard all nature as striving after a model form, and guilty of a failure so far as it falls beneath it ; but rather as keeping close to a general form in order to give uniformity to nature, but departing from it on either side in order to furnish variety and adaptation to special ends. We are convinced that it is possible to reduce a plant, by a more enlarged conception of its form, to a unity — that is, to discover a uniformity through all its organs. There are points of correspondence between the ramification of the stems and the venation of the leaf We have traced a relation between the distribution of the branches of a tree along the axis, and that of the veins of a leaf along the midribs. Some trees, such as the beech, the elm, the oak, and the greater number of our orna- * Schlcidca's Plant, a Biography. PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 121 mental lawn shrubs, sucli as the box, the holly, the Portugal and bay laui'cls, are branched or feathered from the root, or near the root, and the leaves of all these species have little or no leaf stalk. Otlier trees, such as the common sycamore, the birch, the liorse cliestnut, the lime, the pear, the cherry, the apple, have nioi'e or less of an unbranched trunk, and the leaves grow- ing on them have a leaf-stalk. Again, the leaves of certain species, such as the sycamore, the lime, tlie gooseberry, send off a number of main veins from the base, and the leaves of certain other plants, such as the rhododendron and azelea, are whorled round the brancli* and in both these sorts of plants branches ai'c found to collect near a point, or to Avhorl round the axis. The main axis of the laburnum and the broom is commonly subdivided into three main branches, corresponding to the triplet leaves. There is a farther correspondence between tlie angle at which the branches go off, and the angle at which the veins of the leaf go off. It is obvious at a glance that there is for every particular species a normal angle for the lateral veins of the leaf. Again, if any one carefully observe the skeleton of a tree, as seen between him and a clear sky, he will notice that for every parti- cular species of tree there is a normal angle, (from wliich, how- ever, there are many departures, caused by winds, friction, and other external causes.) at which the branches go off. And on comparing the two, the angle of venation and the angle of rami- fication, they will be found to be the same. Several other points of correspondence may be detected between the skeleton of the plant and its leaf, as, for example, between the curve of the branch and that of the vein. Generally the leaf, or rather the leafage, coming off at a given point, may be held as representing a branch, or the whole plant.* Turning from plants with expanded leaves to those with linear leaves, we have been able to trace a beautiful morphological order in pines and firs. It is interesting to trace the succession of whorls along t lie axis of the pine ; to notice how parts not conical are made to produce a figure conical tliroughout ; how the seed-vessels, as their name (cones) denotes, are made to * These observations were laid by the author before the botanical Society of Edinburgh in June 1851, (see Trans. Edin. Bot. Soc, vol. iv.,) And before the British Association in 1852, and again in 1854. (See Sect. Reports.) Sec also Balfour's Class-Book of Botany, P. i. c. ii. 2 3. 122 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE take the same sliape, as do also the very clusters or bunches of stamens. We have observed that the cones are often types of the particular species of tree on which they grow. The cone of the pine, indeed, may furnish an attractive study to the reflect- ing observer for liours. Looking at the arrangement of the scales, he may follow one set of regular spirals, proceeding from right to left, and another set proceeding from left to right. These, by their intersection, give a series of beautiful rhomboids on the surface of the cone, and if he measure the angles of these figures, he will find them approximately 120° above and below, and 60° at the sides. Turning now to the branches, he will find the scars of the fallen leaves also forming two sets of spirals, and these, by their intersection, also giving a series of regular rhomboids. It is a property of these spirals and rhom- boids, that from whatever point we view them they carry on the eye, and show us a regularity of figure, while yet there is no wearisome sameness * (5.) Coming now to Animal Physiology, we find that the animal kingdom is distributed by naturalists according to ex- ternal marks, the radiata having their parts arranged around a common centre, the mollusca being enclosed wholly or partially in a soft envelope, the articulata being jointed, and the verte- brata possessing a spisal column. In regard to vertebrata, the class falling most frequently under human inspection, it is instructive to observe that their subdivisions into fishes, reptiles, birds, and mammals, are made agreeably to visible and tangible characteristics. Conformity of structure, indeed, has been the leading principle of classification in zoology from the time ot Aristotle to the present day. The regular forms in the inorganic world are commonly bounded by straight lines, but as we rise to the organic world, * The author developed these views before the British Association in September 1854. Each of the sets of spirals on the cone and branch is made up of several members or threads. The number of threads in any given set of spirals is always one or other of the following,—!, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, in which scale every suc- ceeding number is made up by the addition of the two preceding; this holds true of all the coniferoe. The numbers of the threads of the two opposite sets of spirals are always contiguous ones in the above scale ; thus, if the number of the one spiral be 5, that of the other must be 3 or 8. The number of threads in the spirals seems to be definite for every species. The number of threads in the two spirals of the branch is often a stage lower than in those of the cone ; thus in piaes the numbers of the branch are commonly 3 and 5, and in the cone 6 and 8, PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 123 we meet with a more rounded contour, and a more clothed aspect. Professor Mosely has shown, that in certain shells of molluscs, the size of the whorls and distance between the whorls follows a geometrical progression, and that the spiral formed is a logarithmal spiral of which it is a property that it has every- where the same geometrical curvature, which can be said of no other curve except the circle. In the lower tribes of animals the forms are chiefly globular, but as we ascend in the scale they assume a great elegance of outline. So great is the attention paid to type throughout the animal kingdom, that we find animals, if not with the organs, at least with the form of organs, that are of no use except to keep up the symmetry. There are classes of animals in which forms appear which have an object and significance only in other classes. The blind fish of Kentucky cavern has no use for eyes in the dark waters w-hich it inhabits ; but, to preserve its symmetry of figure, it has the rudiments of eyes in the place usually occupied by these organs. It was discovered at an early date that there was a conformity of structure in the fore limbs of vertebrate animals, which are fins in the fish, wings in the bird, fore feet in the reptile and mam- mal, and arms and hands in man. A parallelism can be traced between the fore and hind limbs of the same species, without regard to the diversity of office to which they may be severally adapted. Thus the normal or typical number of toes is ten, five in each row corresponding to the typical number of the digits. In many animals, indeed, some of these are awanting, but in such cases they w^ill often be found in a kind of undeveloped state. Thus in the horse, the first finger may be detected in a rudi- mental state in a sort of wart in the leg, the second and fourth in the splint bones, while the foot corresponds to the mid-finger, and the hoof is just the nail of that finger enlarged beyond the normal size. Professor Owen, correcting and following out a series of pre- vious observations by Geoff'foy St. Hilaire, Oken, and others, has shewn to the satisfaction of all anatomists, that the axis of the body of vertebrate animals from the top of the head to the tip of the tail is made of a series of segments ; of each of which certain parts " maintain such constancy in their existence, rela- tive position, connexions, and offices, as to enforce the conviction chat they are homologous parts both in the constituent series of 124 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE the same individual skeleton/'* The typical segment called a vertebra is composed of a centre, a nem-al and haemal spine, and certain processes which may support diverging appendages to be afterwards spoken of. We find these essential parts throughout the whole back-bone. They are, indeed, in some parts of all animals so altered from their typical form, that it is difficult to detect them ; still the skilful anatomist can trace them under all their modifications, and finds it convenient to describe them by the same names. In the tail, Ave have the processes employed to embrace blood-vessels ; in the body, certain of them are ribs to protect the great vital organs ; in the neck, we do not find ribs, because they would injure the free motion of the organ, but we have the rudiments of ribs. Nay, it is now ascertained that the skull itself is made up of parts which can be arranged in a series of segments in which there may be detected the essential parts of the vertebra. The morphological significature of the limbs of vertebrate animals has likewise been determined by Professor Owen, We have said that the processes of the vertebra might have diverging appendages. In particular, from the haemal or lower arch of the vertebra certain appendages are found to proceed. Owen traces them in a rudiraental state in certain vertebrae of the animal frame, and after an extensive induction, he comes to the conclusion that the scapula and caracoid form the haemal arch, and the human hands and arms the diverging appendages of the hfemal arch, belonging to the lowest segment, the occipital segment of the skull. The hind limbs are shewn by a similar process to be costal appendages of a pelvic vertebra. He demonstrates that there are homologous segments appearing in the limbs of fishes, reptiles, birds, mammals, and man, though they have to perform very different functions in each of these tribes of animals. He exhibits to us the pectoral fin of the dugong, the fore limbs of the mole, the wing of the bat, the leg of the horse, and the arm of man, and proves that certain essential parts run through them all, and maintain a unity of plan, even when such different functions have to be performed, as that of diving and swimming, burrowing and running, climbing and flying. It is a curious circumstance, that every segment, and almost every bone present in the human hand and arm, exist also in the fin of * Owen on Homologies of Vertebrate Skeleton, p. 81. PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 125 the whale, though they do not seem required for the support and movements of that undivided and inflexible paddle.* The whole skeleton, skull, back bone, ribs, and limbs, are thus re- duced to a unity in a series of segments repeated in their essential parts, though infinitely diversified to suit the purposes of the member. Similar homologies are being detected in the invertebrate class of animals. The bodies of crabs and insects are made up of a series of rings with appendages, both of which are formed after a coramon plan, though modified to suit special purposes. In star fishes and sea urchins, the five-fold division of parts is commonly very obvious. These typical forms appear not only throughout the whole existing series of animals from the highest to the lowest, but throughout the whole geological series, from the earliest to the latest. The typical number of toes may be seen in the footprints of reptiles left on the rocks of very old forma- tions. Buckhmd tells us that in the " fore-paddle of the plesio- saurus we have all the essential parts of the fore-leg of a qua- druped, and even of a human arm ; first the scapula, next the humerus^ then the radius and ulna succeeded by the bones of the carpus and metacarpus, and these, followed by five fingers, eaqh composed of a continuous series of phalanges. The hind- paddle also ofi'ers precisely the same analogies to the leg and foot of the mammalia ; the pelvis and femur are succeeded by a tibia and fibula, which articulate with the bones of the tarsus, and metatarsus followed by the numerous phalanges of five long toes." There seem to run through both the animal and vegetable kingdoms, not one, but two principles ; tlie principle of order, and the principle of special adaptation. That every part of the plant and animal is suited to the functions and sphere of life of * Lecture on Limbs by R. Owen, F.R.S. This original and learned anatomist thinks he has discovered a harmony in the structure of animals such as could not proceed from a mere regard to final causes. We arc prepared to admit the truth and importance of this remark, provided it be understood as relating merely to final causes having a reference to tho wellbeicg of the animal. AVe car discover a ver}' obvious final cause of tliese homologies in the circumstance that they enable intelligent beings to arrange and group the works of God. How could the com- mon observer recognise and distinguish the animal races? how could Owen make his discoveries without the help of such a principle ? Owen has developed uncon- sciously a teleology of a higher and more archetypal order than Cuvicr. 126 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE the species is a truth admitted by all eminent physiologists ; and recent science is placing along side of this another principle, that every organic body, and every member of an organic body, are constructed on a model form, upon a predetermined pattern. These two great and far-reaching truths are not contradictory but coincident ; each rests on its separate evidence, and the one equally with the other is fitted to illustrate the Divine prescience. While the special modifications or adaptations are intended to promote the wellbeing of the plant or animal, the homologies and homotypes are meant to make organic nature comprehensible by the intelligent creation. The prevalence of these archetypal forms gives to nature a particular aspect, by which we easily recognise it, and can at once distinguish between the works of God and the works of man. Nature has not only its peculiar physiology or connexion of structure — it has its peculiar physiognomy or characteristic countenance. Every observer will be prepared to acknowledge at once the truth of two favourite remarks of Humboldt, that every particular region of the earth has its particular aspect, and that the Cosmos, as a whole, has a unity of aspect.- " Not- Avithstanding a certain freedom," saj^s he, " of development ot the several parts, the primitive force of organization binds all animal and vegetable forms to fixed and constantly recurring types, determining in every zone the character that peculiarly a])pertains to it, or the physiognomy of nature." " Nature," says Sir Isaac Newton, " is very consonant and conformable to herself." D. Stewart remarks, that " there is a certain character or style (if I may use the expression) in the operations of Divine wisdom, something which everywhere announces, amidst an infinite variety of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of design." It is not difficult in our view to discover the final cause of this numerical and symmetrical order. Nature has first of all weights and measures by which she gives out her materials, and it looks as if God had literally "weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance." Then, she has moulds in which she casts her products in their finished form. By this better " signature" than the fanciful " signature of plants," we are enabled to recognise and arrange the various objects by which we are surrounded, and turn them to their proper uses, PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 127 We see what pains God has taken to induce us to become ac- quainted with and put confidence in his works. If you look at them, you can know them as you know the faces of your friends, by their features and expression. Put them to the test, and they come out as certain steady principles, steadfast as the most faithful of friends. This order is, no doubt, intended primarily and mainly for practical purposes. Hence it is an order which strikes the senses, and which can be easily observed and remembered. It is also the means by which science is enabled to construct its systems. It is not needful in furthering these ends, that the order should be so very precise as a " minute philosopher' (to use a phrase of Berkeley's) would make it. As in modern gardening order is not less attended to, while it is far less visible than it was when every line was straight, every parterre squared, and every tree cut into shape, so in the works of God, the order is not the less beautiful and bountiful because it is not precise. Scientific inquirers do, indeed, complain that there is a difficulty in finding a classification at once simple, correct, and complete, of the objects in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms. Still, there are numerous facilities furnished for such a classifi- cation, in the obvious order which prevails in nature ; and any difficulties that may present themselves to the rigid logician, arise mainly, we are convinced, from the circumstance that nature hath constructed her forms chiefly for practical ends ; and she will not, in order to suit our modes of reasoning, keep rigidly to a rule, when an anomaly might be more useful to the common observer, or tend more effectually to promote the func- tions of the animal or plant. We can easily understand how, with an order sufficient for all practical purposes, there should yet be a call to depart from it, to a greater or less extent, to suit the climate and situation, and to promote the comfort of the living being. So far as the objects contemplated in natural philosophy are concerned, there needs no such divergence ; and this may be the reason why, when natural history has always somewhat of looseness in its laws, those of such sciences as chemistry and physics are scientifically and mathematically correct. We can now understand how, in the minds of certain mystic philosophers, a mysterious importance should have been attached 128 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE to forms and numbers. It was an ancient Pythagorean maxim that numbers are the 'principia of the universe, and that things are but the copies of numbers. We will not enter upon the controversies which, in ancient Greece as well as in modern Europe, have arrayed ingenious speculators into opposing parties, because, as one of the combatants says, " we are unwilling to spin out our awaking thoughts into the phantasms of sleep, making cables of cobwebs."* When such philosophers as Pytha- goras and Plato, not to mention the author now quoted, have differed, we are not disposed to fix on the perfect or radical number of the universe. We refer to these discussions, which the superficial mind of modern times is not much inclined, we suspect, to appreciate, for the purpose of bringing out the great truth, that regularity pervades the world. How multiplied the traces which ingenious speculators of the class referred to have discovered ! One has shown how the circle or sphere bounds the shapes and paths of the heavenly bodies, and many of the stalks and flowers of plants. Another, jealous for Christianity, has rather delighted to trace the form of the cross in a thousand objects in every clime ; while two, three, four, and five-fold, lozenge, and network figures have been detected in every depart- ment of nature, and given rise to rival schools. We would not set the advocate of the triangle against the supporter of the circle or quincunx ; but we adopt the discoveries of all into our eclectic creed, and would charitably reconcile old feuds between men whose writings now slumber in peace amidst dust in the most inaccessible shelves of our libraries, by just suggesting that all these forms abound in nature, and contribute to its reigning order. Peace be to the ashes of those who supported their cause sometimes with warmth as excessive as their inge- nuity ! We honour them all for their discoveries, and draw from their learned speculations proofs of a beautifully pervading order in the world, suited to the state and nature of man, and fitted to minister to his delight and increase his knowledge. The principle which reigns in nature is not the triangular, the pentagonal, or cruciform, nor is it the symmetrical nor the numerical ; it is the principle of order, and that towards a given end, the furtherance of knowledge, and, we may add, of enjoyment among the intelligent creation. It exhibits itself under a great * Browne's Garden of Cyrus. PEEVALEXCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 129 many other forms besides those of shape and nuniher. "i]vcry one knows that certain colours placed alongside of each other are felt to be in harmony, while certain others, when in juxta- position, are felt to be discordant. It is now established that when the eye alights on any one colour, it loves to have beside it its complementary colour, that is the colour necessary when taken along with the other to make up the full beam. In the decoration of rooms, in our finer needlework and patterns for the higher style of manuflictures, studious attention is now paid to harmony of colours. But there has been all along a similar regard had to it, in the colouring of plants and the plumage of birds. There are supposed to be three primary colours in the sunbeam, yellow, red, and blue, these mixed together give rise to the secondaries, orange, purple, and green, to the tertiaries, citrine, russet, and olive, and indeed to the unnumbered hues to be found in nature and in art. Let us take as illustrations the three secondary colours, and inquire what colours are com- monly associated with them in nature. Green composed of yellow and blue harmonizes with red, and the eye delights to see the red flower — as of the rose, and the red fruit — as of the cherry, the thorn, the holly, peeping forth so frequently from the green foliage. Green also harmonizes with russet, and russet is very frequently the colour of the young twigs and leaf stalks, which contrast pleasantly with their leaves. The second- ary purple, composed of red and blue, mixed in very varied proportions, seems to be the most common colour on the petals of flowers ; and in the centre of the inflorescence, sometimes on the base of the petals, more frequently on the anthers and pollen, we may commonly detect the sister colour, the yellow. Purple also harmonizes with citrine, and these two may often be seen, beside each other, in the inflorescence of grasses, and in decaying vegetation. Orange composed of yellow and red is in harmony with blue, and at times a blue corolla has an orange heart. The same colour also agrees with olive, and certain «yngenesian flowers of an orange colour have an olive involucre. [n birds, the most common harmony is between black and white ; the next, a yellowish red with a darkish blue ; while in the more ornamented birds we have various hues of green har- monizing with different hues of red. On all sides of us the eye receives unconscious delight from these sister colours ever ap l 130 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE pearing together. It is evident that he who made the eye also painted the objects which the eye looks at.* It is this principle of order, if we do not mistake, which giveg to nature that nnity which reflecting minds have ever been fond of observing. " The highest and most important result of the investigation of physical phenomena," says Humboldt, " is the knowledge of the connexion of the forces of nature, the deep sense of their inward dependence." " That wdiich revealed itself first to the interior sense, as a vague presentiment of the har- mony and order of the universe, presents itself to the soul in these times as the fruit of long and anxious observation." " Na- ture, considered rationally, that is to say, submitted to the process of thought, is a unity in diversity of phenomena blend- ing together all created things, however dissimilar in form and attributes ; one great whole (to irav) animated by the breath of life." But we doubt much if this philosopher, after all, has determined either the precise nature of this unity, or the origin of the feeling of it. He seeks for the ground of the unity in a connexion of forces, and talks of reducing the immensity of different phenomena which the Cosmos embraces, to a unity of principle. Man, he acknowledges, may never reach the discovery of this one principle, but it is the point towards which all scien- tific investigation is represented by him as tending. This unity of nature is, in our view, a unity of order ; and this unity of ■order being all-pervading, reflecting minds in every age have perceived it, and all minds enamoured of nature have felt it. 'The Greeks embodied their perceptions in tlie word which they •employed to denote visible nature, Avhich they called Cosmos, a phrase including both order and ornament ; and the Latins in the w^ord Mundus, a phrase much less expressive, inasmuch as it does not characterize the former of these elements. The ancient Ionian physiologists sought to explain this unity by referring all things to some one physical element, and delighted to trace the metamorphosis of water or fire, as accounting for the whole phenomena of the universe. Pythagoras and the Italian school * TIic autlior having long had the idea that harmonious colour -would bo found in flowers, ventured to give expression to it in a paper read before the Natural History Society of Belfast in May 1853. Dr. Dickie has prosecuted the subject in a more scientific manner, and gave the results to the same Society in October J853. In September 1854, the two read papers on the subject to the British Association. The author is responsible for the statements in the text PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 131 Eonght to trace this unit}-, in a more mystical Init lo soii;6 extent a more profoundly exact way, to numbers and foro),';. Speculators in modern times have imagined that investigation will at length disclose some great logical abstraction or physici-.l power as the origin and cause of this unity.* Now this unity, if we do not mistake, is just to be traced to a universal order, and the universal appreciation of it to the way in which this order is pressed upon our notice. All science proceeds upon this order, and genius has ever been employed in unfolding it. Lofty minds, such as those of Plato and Kepler, have at times erred in transferring their own ideas of order to the objective world ; but it is not the less true that this order permeates all nature, and that all discoveries have been made by the inquirer setting out in quest of it. But this unity docs not spring, as the lonians thought, from a unity of physical element ; nor from the inherent powers of figures and numbers, as the Pythagoreans asserted ; nor from a fundamental logical principle, as some modern German metaphysicians seem to think ; nor from a unity of physical power to be discovered some time or other, as certain physical philosophers appear to imagine. " The philoso- pher," says Humboldt, "arrives at last at an intimate persuasion of one indissoluble chain of affinity binding together all nature.'"' The one principle which reigns is a principle of order amidst a vast number of elements, but all brought by it into subordina- tion, and using forms, and numbers, and physical forces, only as its principal instruments, and tying nature, not as an indissolu- ble chain, but as the string keeps together the bunch of flowers until they wither. It is the same unity as there is in a taste- fully laid-out garden, in a skilfully planned building, %Yith this only difference, that in these it is a mere unity formed among previously existing materials, whereas, in the works of God, it is * Aug. Comte represents the positive philosophy as tending towards represent- ing different observable phenomena as the particular states of a general fact like that of gravitation (Phil. Pos. vol. i. p. 5.) Schelling seems to trace this unity to absolute existence developing itself, and Ilegel to the unity of contradictories and the identity of being and thought. But this unity is not one of identity but of adaptation, instituted by Ilim who made matter, and mind to contemplate matter. It proceeds from the correspondence between the powers and aptitudes of the mind and the properties and order of the physical universe. Just as there is an adaptation between the eye and the light that falls on it and the harmonious colours in nature, so tkere is a correspondence between the observing mind and the world observed by it. 132 "WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE :t unity in the original composition as well as in the construc- tion of nature. No doubt this unity of order implies a con- nexion of forces, but a connexion arranged by an intelligent mind using the forces to effect the contemplated end. This unity carries us up to the Divine unity, of which it is a proof, and the Divine beneficence, of which it is an illustration. It is because this order of nature has to accomplish these ends — (it is a mean and not an end) — that it is not like the classi- fications of science — stiff, rigid, and unbending — but easy, yield- ing, and accommodating, like the manners of the man who is thoroughly polite after the highest mode, and who sometimes performs actions contrary to the rules of the mere formalist, because he acts according to the highest rule of a mind of deli- cate feeling and tact. The order of nature is a varied order to suit the varied circumstances. It is an order which will not sacrifice the end in a foolish adherence to the mere means. In its seeming irregularities, it may be disregarding a lesser rule, but only to attend to the highest rule, which embraces every other. It is all-comprehensive as the canopy of heaven ; but like it too, opens as we become afraid that we are approaching its boundary. Every eye may notice it ; it presents itself in every depart- ment of nature. Take up the commonest plant — the furze that grows on the common, the sea-weed that clings to the rocks washed by the ocean, or the fern that springs up in the moun- tain glen — and you may observe in its structure, in its leaves, or ])sndicles, a wonderful correspondence of side to side and part to part. Let the eye travel over nature as we walk along the cultivated fields, or the grassy slopes and valleys of our upland countries, or among the thick woods where the winds have strewn the seeds, and bush and tree of every kind spring up, each eager to maintain its place, and to show its separate form and beauty — and we discover an order in every branch, and blade, and leaf, and shade, and colour. Take up a leaf or flower, and examine it with or without the aid which art can furnish, and observe how one edge has the same number of notches upon it as the other edge, and what nice balancings iind counterpoises there are, and how nicely-the lines and dots mid shadings of colour suit each other, and recur each at its proper place, as if all had been done by the most exact PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 133 measurement, and under the most skilful and tasteful ej'e. Enter the rich arhonr or the cultivated garden, and observe how tlic flowers have been enlarged and improved by the care which has been taken of them ; and in this gayer colour, and that fuller expanse, more flowing drapery, and richer fragrance, mark how God, who rewards us for opening our eyes and looking al)road on his Avorks, holds out a still greater reward to those who, in love to him, or in love to them, take pains with and bestow labour upon them. Rising higher, we find all leading events in the earth and heavens to run in periods. Plants have their seasons for bud- ding, for growing, for bearing seed and fruit, and their whole existence is for an allotted time. TliQ life of animals and of man himself is a period ; and it has its periodic developments of infanc)', of youth, of manhood, and old age. The very diseases of the human frame have their periods. The events oi history, in respect of politics, civilisation, science, literature, and religion, can be arranged into cycles ; and as a whole, exhibit a regular, though a somewhat complex progression. The tides of the ocean, and in many places the currents, flow in periods ; and in some countries, the winds blow and the rains fall at certain regular seasons. The variations of magnetism on the earth's surface seem to be periodical. The changes in the condition of the earth have been arranged into geological epochs. The year is a period, and it has its seasons ; and there are magni anni in the movements of the planets, in the revolutions of the binary and multiple stars, and probably also in the movements of the constellations and groups of the nebular heavens. But this order, thus so universal, is very diversified. It will not be compressed within the narrow systems which men, founding on a limited experience, are in the way of forming, or suit itself to the rigid forms of human logic. It embraces time, number, space, forms, colours, and force, as elements employed, and it blends these together in unnumbered ways. Sometimes its rule is simple, and at other times of great complexity. It has correspondences, analogies more or less striking, parallelisms and antagonisms. Its colours are suited to its shapes,* and itg * IV. Dickie has discovered the following co-ordinated facts in regard to the rela- tion between form and colour in plants — I. In regular corollas (poljpetalous and gamopetalous) colour is uniformly distributed, whatever be the number of colours 134 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE forms to the position in which they are placed ; and with a higher than human art, it weaves its divers-coloured warp and woof into figures of exquisite grace and beauty. It has circles, as well as straight lines, and curves of all variety of sweeps ; and in its movements there are turnings and windings as grace- ful as those of the dance. Its very forces are orderly, being according to the reciprocal of the square of the distance or some other rule, and some of them being polar, or opposite forces in opposite directions. Philosophers and artists have sought to determine the line of beauty, but this attempt has been futile ; for there are numberless lines of beauty, and there is a beauty which does not arise from lines at all, but from the vast number of other agents which nature employs for producing its order and accomplishing its beiheficent designs. The order of nature is undoubtedly a systematic order ; but it is like the waving lines v.'hich Ave admire so much in the works of God and the higher efforts of imitative art — its indescribable variety is an essential part of the system. Music is not the only harmony to be found in nature. Poetry derives its power to please from the love of harmony which is so deep in our natures ; and that not merely in the ear, for the deaf can enjoy it, but in the very soul. The symbolism of the ancient sages, the parallelisms and antagonisms of the Hebrews and of the East, the nicely mixed long and short syllables of the Greeks and Romans, the correspondence of accents and the definite syllables and metres among the modern nations of Europe — all these are suited to principles in man's nature, and show how diversified poetry may be, and yet be true poetry, awakening an echo in every man's bosom. "We like not the rivalry between the various schools — the Eastern school, the Greek school, and the French school, or the Eomantic school. present. II. Irregularity'of corolla is associated with irregular distribution of colour. The odd lobe has the most intense colour when there is only one colour, and, generally, the odd lobe is most varied in colour. III. Different forms of Corolla in the same inflorescence often present differences of colour, but all of the same form agree in colour. Thus, in compositos, where there are two colours, the flowers of the centre have generally one colour of uniform intensity, and those of the circumference agree in colour also. Dr. D. thinks that, in comparing earlier geological epochs with the present, we find the floral organs exhibiting greater richness in size, form, and colour, as we approach the sera when man appeara (Paper Edin. Bot. Soc, in Annals of Nat. Hia. Dec. 1854.) PBEVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 135 the Artistic school, and the Lake school in our own country — for all these schools speak to symphonies in the human soul. But there are harmonies in the works of God infinitely more varied and full, and in still more exquisite adaptation to our nature, than those of poetry. There are symbols employed in tlie works, as well as by the prophets of God, as when the ant teaches us industry, and the regular periods of the sun and other celestial bodies show us the propriety of method ; or when the fertility of the ground reminds us that we should bring forth fruit unto God ; and when the fading leaf tells us that we, too, shall soon wither and be blown away. What wonderful analogies and conjunctions and antagonisms, expected and unexpected, does nature disclose in the revolving seasons, in alternating sunshine and shade, light and darkness, in the co- incidences of Divine providence, in prosperity and adversity, the hill and valley, the level plain and rugged steep, the storm and calm we meet with in the journey of life 1 The double, triple, quadruple, and quintuple forms that abound in the works of God, furnish a greater diversity than the dimeters, trimeters, quadrameters, and pentameters of the poets. In providence, as in poetic art, we have the rapid and the slow — we have quick dactyls and long-sounding spondees alternating with each other; we have comedy and tragedy, the laugh of pleasure and the wail of sorrow. Though we do not regard human poetry as merely an imitative art, for it is also a creative art, and creates harmonies of its own, yet it is fulfilling one of its noblest func- tions when it is observing and copying the harmonies of nature. But the copies ever fall beneath the original ; and there are harmonies in the works of God which are beyond the painter's pencil and the poet's pen, falling upon the soul with a more melodious rhythm and a sweeter cadence than the most ex- quisite music. And here we have to express our regret, that philosophers have not been able to agree upon a theory of the foundation of the love of the beautiful. Had we been in possession of such an established doctrine, we might have pointed out many congrui- ties between the harmonies of external nature and the internal principle which leads us to delight in the lovely and sublime. But we are unwilling to enter upon disputed metaphysical topics ; and we must be content with marking, in a general way, tho 136 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE correspondence between the mental taste and the means of grati- fying it. Had there been no such taste, much of the paina bestowed by God upon his works, in their graceful forms and delicate shades of colouring, for instance, would have been lost. Had there been no means of gratifying it, the taste would have been worse than useless ; it would have been the source of an exquisite pain — for it would ever have craved, and never been satisfied. In the beautiful correspondence between the two — between the taste so capable of enjoyment, and so susceptible, too, of cultivation and increase, and the beauties in nature around us, which do really satisfy the longings of the heart, deep and large though they be — we discover how much God has multiplied our more refined and elevated pleasures, and what encourage- ments he hath given us to pursue them. When men follow mere sensual enjoyments, the more eager their pursuit, they become the more incapable of relishing them. It is different with the love of the beautiful, (and also with the love of the good ;) the more this taste is exercised, it becomes the stronger, and the more capable of enjoyment. While there are limits to the one, and punitive restraints appointed by God, there seem to be no limits to the other. The taste grows with the growth of our refinement ; and the means of gratifying it are large as our globe — nay, to sainted beings, may be wide as a boundless universe. Let us mark, too, as an additional proof of design, the divinely- appointed connexion between the beneficent and the beautiful. God might have so constituted man and the world that the two had been totally different ; and the good approved by our con- science might usually or always have been repugnant to our natural tastes and sensibility. We find, instead, that there is a correspondence between them. Not that the two are identical, or even parallel, in every respect. In the human species, the beautiful and the wicked are not unfrequently combined in the .same individual. It is an illustration of the schism which sin hath introduced into our nature, and it is one of the means of probation by which God tries us in this mixed state of things. But confining our attention to the principle about which we are speaking — the principle of order — we find, that as it is suited to our intelligent, it is also made to minister to the gratification of our emotional nature. The harmonies which aid our practical PREVALENCE OF GENEKAL LAWS. 137 sagacity, and wliicli enable science to rise to its grand generaliza- tions, also gratify the taste, and enable poetry to sing some of its loftiest strains. Hence it is that the useful, through the power of association, ministers to the love of the beautiful. The sym- metry that is found to be so beneficial, comes at last to be loved for its own sake as associated with the benefits that flow from it. All harmonies come to be pleasant to the mind as connected with the idea of order, and the blessings which order diffuses.* Not that we are thereby, as some imagine, enabled to rid ourselves of an intuitive principle of taste altogether. For even though we should be driven to acknowledge, (which we do not acknow- ledge,) that there is nothing in the love of the beautiful but the influence of association, we would, in the very susceptibility of such associations, and of a pleasure derived from them, discover a natural principle, of which the praise belongs to God, who hath so constituted us. And whatever be our theory of beauty, we may discern in the prevailing harmonies so suited to our thirst for knowledge, so adapted to our taste for the beautiful, a proof of the beneficence of Grod, who hath formed the world without to awaken echoes in the soul within ; and to promote at one and the same time the enlargement of the experience, the quickening of the understanding, and the refinement of the feelings. Let us now collect into one system the adaptations which we * There is surely more than one kind of beauty. There is a physical beauty, as in music, harmonious colours, and probably, also certain forms. There is a moral beauty in certain mental qualities. Between these, there is an intellectual beauty. All these agree in raising feelings, ■which, with not a few diflfercnces, do so far re- semble each other. Confining our attention to intellectual beauty, it seems clear to us thi'.t there is a feeling of beauty excited by the spontaneous, unconscious, or rather unreflective obsei'vation of a series of relations. Ilcace the pleasure which the mind feels in rhyme and rhythm, in balancings, correspondences, parallelisms, in alliteration, antitliesis, contrasts. Hence, too, the delight experienced by the mind in contemplating the obvious relations of whole and parts, of means and end, of form, number, property, which everywhere present themselves in nature. We believe that tlic feeling raised becomes more intense according to the number and variety of the relation < observed, provided always, that they are so obvious that they can be noticed ^pontaneously, and without any such intellectual straining as may interfere with the emotion. There is a special beauty in unity witli variety — as seen in the curve lines, and compensatory though not uniform balancings of nature; and also in the varied agents at work around us, conspiring to promote one end. So far, then, as intellectual beauty is concerned, there is truth in the theory of Augustine, that beauty consists in order and design, and in that of Hutcheson and Cousin, that it consists in unity with variety, and in that of Diderot, that it consists in relations. 138 WISDOM DISPLAYED IN THE have been observing separately. Let us observe first the in- ternal principles, and then the correspondence of the external facts : — Internal Principles. I. The natural love of combiaed va- riety and sameness. II. The intuition which leads us to connect cause and effect. ni. The attainment of knowledge by experience. IV. The faculties that generalize and classify, in order to the attain- ment of knowledge, (1.) prac- tical, and (2.) scientific. V. The love of the beautiful. External Facts. I. The number of elements sufficient to produce variety without con- fusion. II. The causal connexion between all events. III. (1.) AH phenomena have a natural cause. (2.) Material substances are so ad- justed as to admit of their act- ing causally. (3.) Causes are so adjusted as to produce general laws of succes- sion. IV. The principle of order throughout the world, in respect of number, form, colour, &c. ; and this or- der, (1.) palpable and obvious, (2) varied. V. (1.) The harmonies in nature. (2.) These harmonies beneficent as well as beautiful. With such proofs as these of the benignity of law, we are not jealous of the discovery of it in the government of the world. We rather rejoice in every extension which is given to it ; and feel as if, by enlarging it, we were restricting the supposed domains of chance, and widening the real dominions of God, and doing what civilisation and improving agriculture accomplish, when they drive back the ignorance, the wastes and wilds of our country, to spread knowledge, and order, and fertility in their room. We are aware, that when the existence of God is denied, it is needful so to define and explain the laws of nature as to show that they are not a substitute for the Divine Being. But when we have established the existence of God, we rejoice to discover the presence of law everywhere — as much as the mariner might rejoice to detect the footprints of human beings on the desolate Bhore on whicli he has been cast ; for wherever we find law, there we see the certain traces of a lawgiver. PREVALENCE OF GENERAL LAWS. 139 Care must be taken, however, in speaking of laws as so uni- versal, not to represent this plan of procedure as separating God from his works. We believe Grod to be as intimately connected with the operation of his hands, as if he was doing all by special miracle. Every event is to be understood as ordered by God, just as certainly as if it had taken place in a world in which there were no other causes than the Divine volitions. We dis- cover that the laws according to which all events occur are appointed by God; we can farther discover the exact adaptation of this arrangement to the nature of man ; and instead of feeling less disposed to see God in his works because of this constitution of things, we are all the more inclined to discover, and when we discover, to admire his wisdom and beneficence. ItLUSTUATivE NoTE (c.)— DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PlilLOSOPPIICAL OB- SEllVATION AND PRACTICAL SAGACITY— RELATION OF SCIENCE AND ART. Tlie remarks made may enable us to understand the diEFerence between the siiRKwn OBSERVER and the puilosopher. The one notices the various lesser and more obvious laws of the occurrences in the world, and the palpable workings of liuman nature ; while the other rises to the more general causes from which they proceed. The person who has observed the ways of the world around him becomes a man of shrewdness and sagacity ; and in regard to the pursuits in which he feels an interest, his vision can penetrate to an astonishing distance, and with most singular accuracy. It is this quality which leads, according to the object to which it is directed, to distinction in the competitions of trade, commerce, or politics. It is much the same talent, directed to a higher class of objects, which produces sagacity in historical research. When the observer, endowed with a spiritual vision, takes in a higher class of laws — the laws of God's providence — his wisdom assumes a loftier form ; and from his knowledge of the Divine ways, he can look still farther into the future. The historian, Dr. M'Crie,* occurs to us as an eminent instance of an individual possessing this species of sagacity, and able to anticipate the events that are to come, from a knowledge of the Divine ways in times past. Proverbs of a worldly or a divine character are the forms in which the more certain of the general observations of which we are speaking find their appropriate expression. Wise sayings, apothegms, maxims, and pointed remarks, are the forms which others assume ; wliile thousands floating in the mind, and used daily by the sagacious, have never been expressed, and never will be expressed in words. TLc philosopher is distinguished from these shrewd observers, in so far as he seeks for the causes of the general phenomena which present themselves in the actual world. Herein is Adam Smith distinguished from the practical statesman and skilful politician. Herein are philosopliic historians, such as Montesquieu ; Robertson, in his Introduction to Charles V. ; Guizot, in his works on Modern Civilisation ; and the speculatists of Germany, who arrange all events into epochs, • See his Ufe by his Soa 140 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. — herein are tliese distinguished from the mere recorders of events, such as the ancient chroniclers, and from that pictorial school -which claims Sir Walter Scott for its founder. In the common transactions of life, the power of shrewd observation is infinitely more useful than philosophy. "We know not that Adam Smith could have been prime minister of Great Britain, though his writings have determined the destinies of more than one cabinet. On the other hand, the views of the enlightened philo- sopher will be found, in the end, not only to be the grander but the more useful, for he proceeds on causes extensively or universally operative. The genius of Adam Smith and Burke will ultimately exercise a greater sway upon the laws of the kingdom, and the sentiments of the inhabitants, than the practical wisdom of Pitt and Fox. It may be expected, that the man whose range of vision is confined, should, within his own field, be shrewder than others whose eyes have been wandering over a larger surfiice. He Avho has never passed beyond his native valley will anticipate the events that are immediately to occur in it more accurately than the individual who has visited every quarter of the globe. The telescope cannot be used in looking at the blood-vessels of an insect. On the other hand, the micro- scope cannot be employed in resolving the nebulte of the heavens into stars. The eye that is exquisitely formed for observing objects which are small and near, sees large and distant objects dimly and confusedly. The observer who is sharp enough in his own little field, falls into innumerable blunders when he would utter general truths bearing a reference to the world and mankind at large. The wisdom of the shrewdest observer of men and manners in his own age appears very contracted to the student of universal history. The latter is apt to forget that even his wisdom appears narrow and short-sighted to the person who measures all things on the scale of eternity. It is the privilege of the philosopher, rising above the widest observer on the common elevations of the earth, to contemplate, as from a mountain eminence, the general shape and direction of all events. But rising far higher, the religious philosopher, contemplating these causes in the Divine mind, sees, as from the battlements of heaven, earth and time with all their revo- lutions spread out beneath him. These principles also illustrate the eklation between sciexce and art. It is well known that art has in general preceded science. There were bleaching, dyeing, and tanning, and artificers in copper and iron, before there was chemistry to explain the processes used. Men made wine before there was any theory of fermentation ; and glass and porcelain were" manufoctured before the nature of alkalis and earths had been determined. The pyramids of Nubia and Egypt, the palaces and sculptured slabs of Nineveh, the cyclopean walls of Italy and Greece, the obelisks and temples of India, the cromlechs and druidical circles of countries formerly Celtic, all preceded the sciences of mechanics and architecture.* There was music before there was a science of acoustics ; and painting, while yet there was no theory of colours and perspective. Nor is it difficult to account for all this on the principles which we have been developing. By the beneficent arrangements of God, general laws available for practical purposes can be discovered, while the causes that produce them are concealed. The mechanic and artist discover these general laws, and turn them immediately to the object wliich they contemplate — the production of useful or elegant works. They constitute those first observed and middle axioms— between infinite particular.^ on the one hand, and the highest generalizations on the other— * See Whewell's PhiL of Ind. Science, B. xL c. viii CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS WORKS. 141 on which Bacon sets such high value, and which he represents as making " the Rrtsnmn diflfer from the inexpert." God has so disposed the agents of nature, that these laws are uniform ; so long as they are so, the artist may use them without at all imjuii-ing into the cause ; and all the while no attempts may have been made to discover the cause, or science may have been defeated in all its attempts to find it. At the same time, it should be borne in mind, that when science suc- ceeds in discovering the true cause, it may be the means of multiplying the resources, and widening indefinitely the dominion of art. As a practical inference from the train of reflection pursued in these corollaries, let us mark that there are obvious and palpable laws which God hath placed before us, both in regard to the workings of the human soul and the mechanism of nature, and all to aid us in the accomplishment of important practical ends. All men are not intended to be philosophers, but all are expected to be practically useful ; and hence, while there arc only partial aids to science, there are universal aids to industry and to a benevolent activity. The philosopher, when he is baffled in some of his researches into more recondite causes, should, in the spirit of a true philosophy, comfort himself with the thought that mankind can accomplish so many important ends, even while these causes ai'e yet imdiscovered. SECT. V. — CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS WORKS. Phj'sical inquirers, in prosecuting their method of induction, look upon all things from a particular point of view — they look at them from the earth and from below, and their views are in consequence, to some extent, narrow and contracted. In this Treatise, without, departing from the same method of induction, we may, after having arrived at the knowledge of the existence of God, look at all things from another and a higher point of view — we may look at them, from time to time, from above. Astronomers must begin their investigations by taking the earth as their basis, and regarding it as their centre ; but after having determined in this way that the sun is the true centre, they change their point of view, and look on the whole planetary system from the sun as the central point, and their measure- ments become heliocentric instead of geocentric. All inquirers into heavenly truth, proceeding in an inductive method, must, like astronomers, begin with the earth ; but after having pro- ceeded a certain length, and determined that there is a God, they may view all things as from heaven. It is when surveyed from both points that we attain the clearest idea of their exact nature and relation one to another, and to God. The finite cannot comprehend the infinite, and so no man should presume to point out all the ways in which a God of 142 CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS WORKS. unbounded resources might govern the universe. According to the well-known Theodicee of Leibnitz, God had had before him, in the depths of eternity, an infinite number of possible worlds, and out of these selected the one which was most beneficent, upon the whole, and this though it comprised within it certain incidental but necessary evils, not found in other possible worlds, which, however, had not the same amount of good. Whatever may be thought of this ingenious speculation, it is evident that God might have governed the universe in a different mode from that actually employed. It is conceivable, in particular, that he might have ordered the affairs of this world in some other way than by the method of general laws. Superficial thinkers, disposed to materialism and atheism, are apt to conclude that there is a necessity of some kind for the existence of these laws. But we have only to view this world from the point from which God surveyed it at its creation, to discover that it was at least possible for God to act after a diflerent method. The determination to govern the world by general laws was an act of the Divine mind, swayed by all-wise reasons and motives, and not at all by stern necessity. It does not even appear that, in selecting such a method, God could have been influenced by considerations of convenience. On a cursory view, we might be tempted to conclude that God must have adopted such a mode of operation in order to lighten the burden of his government. But in drawing this inference, w^e proceed on ideas derived from human weakness. The in- genious workman constructs a machine, and then leaves it to itself; and we leap to the conclusion that, after having created and adjusted the world, God consigned it to its own operation. But the two cases, including the parties employed and the cir- cumstances, are essentially different. The human workman forms no laws or properties of matter — his whole object is to accommodate his materials to the existing laws of nature which now accomplish his purposes.* He has discovered that certain agents of nature, or, as we would rather express it, certain agents of God, will serve his ends ; he skilfully takes advantage of them, and his work is done. But in this he is acting merely as the traveller or the merchant, who uses a particular conveyance * Ad opera nil aliud potest homo quam ut corpora naturalia admoveat et smO' veat, reliqua natura intus transigit. — (Nov. Org. Aph. iii.) CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS WOEKS. 143 for the transmission of his person or his goods, and who thereby, no doubt, lessens his own toil, but not the total amount ot labour needful for the end effected. The connexion of God with the laws of his own appointment is altogether different from man's relation to them. Through the bountiful arrangements of God, man can lessen his toil, and leave his works to nature and to God to conduct them ; but it does not therefore follow that God can, or that he does, commit his works to themselves. Speaking correctly and philosophically, the general laws of nature are just rules whicli God has laid down for the regulation of his own procedure. It is not that, as a Being omnipresent and omni[)otcnt, ever watchful and ever active, he needs those helps which man requires in consequence of his infirmities. The Aluiighty can never be weighed down under the burden of his government. He adopts the mode of procedure by general laws, not for his own convenience, but for that of his intelligent creatures. It is not difficult to discover the utility of this method of action. It is the regularity of the laws of nature which leads us to put confidence in them, and enables us to make profitable use of them. Without such order and uniformity man could have no motive to industry, no incentive to activity. Disposed to action, ho would ever find action to be useless, for he could not ascertain the tendency, and much less the exact effect, of any step taken by him, or course of action adopted. Suppose that, instead of rising regularly at a known time, the sun were to appear and disappear like a meteor, no one being able to say where, or when, or how, all human exertion would cease in a feeling of utter hopelessness. If, instead of returning in a re- gular mannei*, the seasons were to follow each other capriciously, so that spring might be immediately succeeded by winter, and summer preceded by autumn, then the labour of the husband- man would be at an end, and the human race would perish from the earth. In such a state of things mankind would not have sufficient motive to do such common acts as to pirtake of food, for they could not anticipate that food might support them. With such a system, or rather want of system, pervading the world, suspicion and alarm would reign in every breast ; man would sink into indolence, with all the accompanying evils of reckless audacity and vice ; " fears would be in the way," and 144 CONNEXIOX OF GOD WITH HIS WORKS. he would dread the approach of danger from every quarter ; feel himself confused as in a dream, or lost as in darkness ; or rather, after leading a brief and troubled existence, he would disappear from the earth. " Now, if nature," says Hooker, in a passage which we quote for its masculine old English, as well as the correctness of its sentiment,* " should intermit her course, and leave altogether, though it were but for a while, the observation of her own laws — if those principal and mother elements, whereof all things in this lower world are made, should lose the qualities which they now have — if the frame of that heavenly arch erected over our heads should loose and dissolve itself — if celestial spheres should forget their wonted motions, and, by irregular volubility, turn themselves any way as it might happen — if the prince of the lights of heaven, which now as a giant doth run his unwearied course, should, as it were, through a languishing faintness, begin to stand and to rest himself — if the moon should wander from her beaten way — the times and seasons blend themselves by disordered and confused mixture, the winds breathe out their last gasp, the clouds yield no rain, the earth be defeated of heavenly influence, the fruits of the earth pine away as children at the withered breast of their mother, no longer able to yield them relief — what would become of man himself, whom these things do now all serve ?" How unreasonable, then, as well as ungrateful, the conduct of those who fail to discover the presence of God in his works, and that because of the existence of these laws, so beautiful in them- selves, and benignant in their aspect towards us. Every person sees that the blessings which God lavished upon the Hebrews, in that desert which now supports but four thousand of a popu- lation, but was made to support upwards of two millions and a half for a period of forty years, were not the less, but all the more the gifts of God, from the circumstance that they were bestowed in a somewhat regular manner. No one will affirm that the manna was the less bountiful proof of the care of God, because, in order to suit the convenience of the Israelites, it did not fall irregularly, but at periodical intervals, and was gathered every morning, that those who partook of it might be strength- ened for the journey of the day. And will any one maintain that our daily food is less the gift of God, because it is sent not * Eccles. Politj, B. i. CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS WORKS. 145 at random^ but in appointed ways, and at certain seasons, that we may be prepared to receive it ? Was the water of whiclithe Israelites drank less beneficent because it followed them all the way thi-ough the wilderness ? No one will affirm that it was : and j-et there are persons who feel as if they did not require to be grateful for the water of which they drink, because it comes to them from the clouds of heaven, and the fountains which gush from the earth. We condemn the Hebrews when we read of their ingratitude, and yet we imitate their conduct. When the manna first fell. and they saw abundance of food on the bare foce of the desert, gratitude heaved in every breast ; but how short a time elapsed till they began to look upon the manna in much the same light as we look upon the dews of the evening, or the crops in harvest — as something regular and customary, the denial of which might justify complaint, but the bestowal of which was not calculated to call forth thankfulness 1 Because the water flowed with them through all their journey, so that the heat of a burning sun could not exhale it, nor the thirsting sand of the desert drink it up, just because it continued all the time as fresh and as cool as when it leapt from its parent rock, they came to regard it with as little wonder as we do the stream which may run past our dwelling. The pillar of cloud hung continually before them, so that the rays of a meridian sun could not dissipate it, nor the winds of heaven drive it away ; and they came at last to be no more grateful for it than we usually are for the light of the sun returning every morning. Just because this pillar of cloud was kindled into a pillar of fire eveiy evening, they became as familiar with it as we are with the stars which God lights up nightly in the firmament. The younger portion of the people, born in the desert, and long accustomed to these wonders, may have come to look upon them as altogether natural, and would no more be sur- prised at the sight of the fiery pillar casting its lurid glare upon the sands, than we arc with the meteor that flashes across the evening sky. Does it not appear as if it were the very fre- quency of the gift, and the regularity of its coming, which lead mankind to forget the Giver ? It is as if a gift were left every morning at our door, and we were at length to imagine that it came alone without being sent. It is as if the widow whose meal and oil were blessed by the prophet, had come at length to K 146 CONNEXION OF GOD WITH HIS "WORKS. imagine that there was nothing supernatural in the transaction, just because the barrel of meal did not Avaste, and the cruse of oil did not fail. In order to prove that God is closely connected with his works in nature, it is not needful to determine what is his precise causal connexion with events which have also second causes in the heaven-endowed properties of created substances. Does God co-exist and co-operate with every natural cause, the two being united to form one cause ? Or do the natural antecedents them- selves tbrm the whole cause, being linked to the will of God only so far as they are the distant effect of that will, as the first great cause of all things ? So far from being inclined to answer these questions in a dogmatic way, we are not even convinced that these two exhaust the possible methods which God may employ in conducting his works, or that there may not be a third or a fourth way, all available to God, and this whether conceivable or inconceivable by man. It has often been asserted, that we have no evidence of God being connected with his works in any other way than his being the first cause of all things, the support on which the highest link in the chain of inferior causes hangs. We have only to con- sider what is the nature of the argument in behalf of the exist- . ence of God, to discover that this assertion has no foundation to ■4'est on. That argument has sometimes been stated as follows — Every event has a cause, and in tracing up causes we must stop . at length at a great first cause. So far as the argument assumes this form, the assertion which we p.re examining may seem to diave some plausibility. But this is not the form in which the argument is put by its most judicious defenders. The better form is — There are traces of design in nature evidential of a designing mind. And observe how this argument does not limit us to the conception of God as a first link, but rather inclines us to look for the presence of the designing mind wherever there are trut this whole subject, with the co-existence and correl.ation if its two principles, is so import.ant in itself, and at the same time so misunder- stood and neryerted, that the author proposes to discuss it in a separate treatise^ giving the religious significatiou of the late discoveries in natural history. RESULTING IN FORTUITIES, 159 have to consider them merely in their reference to man. Having in last chapter traced the principle of order, as assuming the form of general laws to be contemplated by man, we are in this chapter to trace the principle of particular adaptation also in its reference to man, when it may be called the providence of God. It is, in our view, by far the most remarkable characteristic of man's present condition. " It is quite evident," says Dr. Brown,* " that even omnipo- tence, which cannot do what is contradictory, cannot combine both advantages — the advantage of regular order in the sequences of nature, and the advantages of an uniform adaptation of the particular circumstances of the moment to the particular cir- cumstances of the individual. We may take our choice, but we cannot think of a combination of both ; and if, as is very ob- vious, the greater advantage be that of uniformity of operation, we must not complain of evils to which that very uniformity which we cannot fail to prefer — if the option had been allowed us — has been tlie very circumstance that gave rise.'"' We are not obliged to take our choice between the one or the other of the two alternatives propounded. The combination spoken of as being beyond human thought is realized in the works of God; and, in order to discover it, we have only to open our eyes suflficiently wide to take in the double method which God employs in his providence. God cannot do things which are really contradictory, but he can reconcile things which may seem to us to be contradictory. Things which ap- pear incompatible to human wisdom are found in harmonious union and co-operation in the works of God. It is in the happy combination of apparent contradictions that we discover one of the most wonderful properties of the Divine administration. The system of regular laws has its advantages ; and Ave have been at pains to point them out in the last chapter. But, as .Dr. Brown perceives, it has also, if uncontrolled, its disadvan- tages. It is easy to conceive what prejudicial effects would fol- low from the unbending operation of natural laws, if they were never curbed or restrained. Every one of the laws might be good in itself, and yet incidental effects might follow, fitted to inflict injustice on individuals, and the direst injury on society Tlie doctr'ne of a narrow philosophy, which admits nothing but * Lect. 94. 160 COMPLICATION OF NATUKE uncompromising law, has always been felt to be a very uncom- fortable one. Truly, it is little consolation to the man disabled for life by an accident which he could neither have anticipated nor prevented, to tell him, in answer to the groans which his pain is wringing from him, that his calamity occurred through a very beautiful law, — that it is a good thing that stones fall, and that fire burns, and thus brought down that building in the ruins of which he was found. The widow's tears, which flow as she weeps over a husband whose ship has perished in the waters, will not be dried up by the mere observer of mechanical laws coming to her and explaining that winds blow, and ^Yaves rage, and that it is for the advantage of mankind that they should. To those who could bring no other consolation, the heart would respond, " Miserable comforters are ye all ; ye are physicians of no value." The mind of man has always instinctively recoiled from the attempts made to persuade it that there is nothing in the world but all-sweeping and unbending general law ; and truly, in such matters the hearts of our peasantry have been wiser than the heads of our philosophers. Is there no way by which all the advantages arising from the fixed sequences, and the regular courses of nature, may be secured, without our being obliged to submit to the disadvantages which are supposed to be inherent in the system ? There is such a method, we are convinced, de- vised by the wisdom of God, and displayed in actual operation in his Providence. It is conceivable that God might have so constituted this world that there should have been nothing but general laws, few in number, and free from all complexity. For example, there might only have been a few such laws as those of universal gravitation, the results of which could have been calculated with ease and certainty. All coming events, in such a system, could have been counted on as confidently as the position of the planets, as the periodical return of the tides, as the eclipses of the sun and moon. But it is evident, at the first glance, that man is not placed in such a state of things. Again, it is con- ceivable that the laws of nature might have been as numerous as they are, but arranged so simply as to combine in the most perspicuous and incomplex results. It is after this manner, so far as we can discover, that the laws of nature operate in the RESULTING IN FORTUITIES. 161 heavens, furnishing an order, not only real, but obvious. But it is just as evident that this is not the system adopted in the government of the earth, in many of the departments of which there appear to the eye of man only reigning confusion and uncertainty. Our scientific inquirers, in investigating the separate laws, have not sufficiently attended to that particular disposition AND distribution OF THE AGENTS OF NATURE, which neccssarily issues in the uncertainty which everywhere meets our eye. The circumstance to which we refer arises from the complication, and it gives rise to the fortuities of nature, Man at times complicates the relations of natural powers, in order to produce fortuity. He shakes, for instance, the dice- box, in order that neither he nor any one else may be able to predict the die which is to cast up, . There is, we maintain, a similar complication in the Divine arrangement of natural agents, and all to produce a similar end — to surround man with events which are to him accidental, but which to God are instruments of government. We have seen that physical nature is so admirably adjusted as to produce a number of very beneficent general laws.' The events occurring in this orderly manner may be anticipated, pains may be taken for welcoming them when they are expected to be good, and of avoiding or averting them when they are supposed to be evil. But all the results flowing from the adjust- ment of natural objects are not of this regular character. There are others, which, so fiir from being in accordance with any general law, are rather the result of the unexpected crossing and clashing, contact or collision, of two or more agencies. Palling out in an isolated, accidental manner, they cannot possibly be foreseen by the greatest human sagacity ; the good which they bring cannot be secured by human foresight, nor can the evil which they produce be warded off by human vigilance. Kot that we are to regard the phenomena now referred to, as happening without a cause. Both classes of phenomena proceed from physical causes, but the one from causes so arranged as to produce general effects, and the other from causes so disposed as to produce an individual or isolated result. The general law of cause and effect is, — that the same correlated substances, in the same relations to each other, produce the same changes. Now, L 162 COMPLICATION OF NATURE in the case of the events that occur according to general law, the relations continue the same, or are made to recur — and hence the regularity of the effects. In the case of the other events, the relations change — and hence the isolated nature of the effects ; the same combinations of circumstances, the same ad- justment of things, may never occur again, and so as to produce precisely the same results. Hence it happens, that even when the causes are ascertained, the results, owing to the complicated relation of the substances and laws to one another, cannot be determined beforehand. There are departments of nature in which every property of matter in operation has been discovered by science, but in which it is absolutely impossible, owing to the way in which the laws cross each other, and the objects are crowded together, for the shrewdest sagacity to anticipate the future. We know many of the causes by Avhich the motion of the winds is determined, but no one can tell how these winds may blow at any given time. Though we had ascertained all the laws of meteorology, we should not thereby be nearer the discovery of the probable weather at any particular time or place. " Not one of the agents," says Humboldt in the Cosmos, " such as light, heat, the elasticity of vapours, and electricity, which perform so important a part in the aerial ocean, can exercise any influence, without the result produced being speedily modified by the simultaneous interven- tion of all the other agents." " The confusion of appearances often becomes inextricable, and forbids the hope of our ever being able to foresee, except within the narrowest limits, the changes of the atmosphere, the foreknowledge of which possesses such an interest, with reference to the cultivation of orchards ,and fields, to navigation, and, generally, to the pleasures and welfare of mankind." We see how accident may abound in a world in which the operation of cause and effect is acknowledged •to be universal. This uncertainty, meeting us everywhere, appears more espe- cially in those departments of God's works with which man is most intimately connected. This is a circumstance worthy of 'haiug noted. We may have occasion afterwards to inquire into the linal cause, or the purpose served by it; meanwhile, we merely maik the circumstance itself As we come closer to man, the elements of uncertainty become more numerous. How uncertain RESULTING IN FORTUITIES. 1G3 are all the events on which man's bodily and external welfare depends ! He is dependent on the weather, and it is so variable that its changes cannot be anticipated. And yet it is scarcely more capricious than the whole course of events, prosperous or adverse, arisiag from his fcllow-raen, or from nature, on wliich his whole earthly destiny depends. But nowhere is this com- plication, with its consequent uncertainty, so strikingly displayed as in the constitution of his bodily frame. The most wonder- ful and ingenious of the physical works of God on the earth, it is also the most complex. Every one part is so dependent on every other, that the least derangement (and they are all liable to derangement) in any one of its organs may terminate in ex- cruciating anguish, in wasting disease, or immediate death. A cut is inflicted on the thumb, and ends in lock-jaw. A sudden change takes place in the atmosphere which the individual breathes, and quickens into life a malady which wastes the lungs and the frame till it ends in dissolution. A particular vital vessel bursts, and instant death follows. A derangement takes place in the nerves or brain, and henceforth the mind itself reels and staggers. It appears that the uncertainty increases the nearer we come to man, and there is nothing so uncertain as bodily health and human destiny. So for as man can observe, there is as much uncertainty in many departments of God's works as if there were no laws obeyed by them. The Eomans were not singular in representing Fortune as blind, and worshipping her as a goddess who has extensive sway over the destinies of mankind. Not a few have rashly rushed to the conclusion that God does not rule in these heavens, or that his government does not extend to the earth.'"'" Atheism, finding that it cannot blot out the Light from these heavens, has out of this seeming disorder endeavoured to raise a cloud of dust that may conceal it from the view. Unbelief, in gloomy waywardness, wanders for ever among these tangled woods and briars, and can find no outlet or road with an onward direction. The devout spirit, too, observes this strange compli- cation ; and in doing so, it wonders, and adores, and acknow- ledges that even when the most likely means are used, they cannot produce the end contemplated without what is expres- sively called the blessing of Heaven. * See Lucretius, pamm. 164 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. This prevalence of accident cannot, as some may be tempted to imagine, be accidental. It is in the very constitution of things. It is one of the most marked characteristics of the state of the world in which our lot is cast. It is, in fact, the grand means which the Governor of the world employs for the accomplish- ment of his specific purposes, and by which his providence is rendered a particular providence, reaching to the most minute incidents, and embracing all events and every event. It is the especial instrument employed by him to keep man dependent, and make him feel his dependence. A living writer of great genius has described the fact of which we are seeking to give an explanation. " But there is a higher government of men," says Isaac Taylor, " as moral and religious beings, which is carried on chiefly by means of the fortuities of life. Those unforeseen accidents which so often control the lot of men, constitute a super- stratum in the system of human affairs, wherein peculiarly the Divine providence holds empire for the accomplishment of its special purposes. It is from this hidden and inexhaustible mine of chances, as we must call them, that the Governor of the world draws, with unfathomable skill, the materials of his dispensations towards each individual of mankind."* - If, in contemplating the general order that pervades the world, we seemed to fall in with beautiful figures rectilinear and circular, we feel now, in dealing with these fortuities, that we are ascending to curves of a higher order, and figures of greater complexity ; or rather as if we had got an infinitesimal calculus, in which every one thing is infinitely small, but in which the infinite units pro- duce magnitudes and forces infinitely great. The curves are sometimes difficult of quadrature, and the differentials not easy to be integrated ; but still they form an instrument unequalled at once for its potency and its pliability, its wide extended range, and the certainty with which it hits the point at which it aims. Illustrative Note (d.)— PHENOMENA CLASSIFIED ACCORDING AS THEY ARE MORE OR LESS COJiPLICATED.— REVIEW OF M. COMTE. The complexity of nature is one of the most -wonderful of its characteristics, though it is often overlooked in the present day by persons who are endeavouring, to discover the universality of law. It IS, if we do not mistake, this complication of the causes and laws of nature, taken always in connexioii with the cognitive and limited nature of man's facil * Nat. Hist, of Enthusiasra. ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. 165 lies, which renders Jt so imperative on the part of the ?cicntific inquirer to pro- ceed in tlie inJuctive method. Had the worlds of God been differently disposed and, in particular, had the various bodies been less complex in tlieir relation to one another, it is conceivable that a different mode of investigation might have been available. Could the different properties of substances, as being lapt clear and distinct, have been discovered by easy and direct observation, investigation would liave consisted very much in inference, and the deductive method, as the most practicable, would have been universally employed. It is the multiplicity of relations in the disposition of the jihysical world which so baffles all « i^riori speculation, and which compels the inquirer to begin with a laborious investiga- tion of facts, with the view of determining the laws according to which they occur, that thence he may rise to a knowledge of the properties of the different bodies. Hence, we suspect, the necessity for diligent observation and experiment, for careful compilation and co-ordination, before man can master any domain in nature. Had nature been throughout at once simple and clear in the order which it follows, Ave cannot see tliat there should liave been such need of a laborious preparation. In such a state of things, man could have determined beforehand what nature must be in every one of its territories, as easily as the astronomer can tell the position of the moon or planets ten or twenty j-ears hence. There is one penetrating (though offensively arrogant) thinker of our day, who has not overlooked this characteristic of nature. M'e allude to M. Auguste Comte, who, in.his.work on Positive Philosophy, has given a classiiication of the sciences, arranged according as the phenomena of which they treat are more or less simple, or less or more complicated.* ■ " In considering," he says, " observable phenomena, we shall see that it is pos- sible to classify them into a small number of natural catcgoi-ies, disposed in such a manner that the natural study of each category may be founded on the principal laws of the preceding category, and become the foundation of that which follows. This order is deh'rmined hy the derjree of simplicity,- or that tvhich comes io the same thing, by the degree of generality of jyhenomena, from which result their mutual dependence and the greater or less facility of studying thtm. It is clear, in faetj a priori, that the pheoomena which are the most simple, those which com- plicate themselves the least with the others, are also the most general."f Fol- lowing this- principle, he arranges phenomena into two great divisions — those that are unorganized being the most simple, and those that are organized being more complicated. Taking up inorganic nature, he places (after mathematics) astro- nomy at the head of his hierarchy of the natural sciences. " xVstronomical phenomena being the most general, the most simple, the most absti-act, it is evidently by the study of them that we ought to commence natural philosophy; and the laws to which they arc subjected have an influence on those of all other phenomena, while they are themselves, on the other hand, essentially indepen- dent.'"| He then goes on to show that terrestrial physics is a more complicated science than astronomy. " The simple movement of a falling body, even when it is a solid, presents, in reality, when we take into account all the determining circumstances, a subject of research more complicated than the most difficult question of astronomy."^ Proceeding to terrestrial physics, he shows that it is capable of being divided into two parts, according as we examine bodies under a mechanical or chemical point of view. Of these the former is evidently the simpler and more general, as all the properties of matter considered in physics,. * See Appendix V. on the Liti.no Wbiiebs who tbeat op the Irdcctivb PniLosuPHr. t Vol L pp. 86, 87 :P. «1. iP.aZ. 166 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. such as gravity, reappear along with other properties in chemistry. Rising to organized bodies, he divides the phenomena which present themselves into two classes — those which relate to the individual, and those which relate to the species — giving rise to what he calls organic physics and social physics. As the result of this discussion, philosophy finds itself naturally divided into six funda- mental sciences, of which the succession is determined by a subordination, neces- sary and invariable, founded, independently of all hypothetical opinion, upon the simple comparison, in a profound manner, of the corresponding phenomena — these are, mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, physiology, and, finally, social physics. The first considers phenomena the most general, the most ab- stract, and the farthest removed from humanity, and which have an influence on all others without being influenced by them. The phenomena considered in the last are, on the contrary, the most particular, the most complicated, the most concrete, the most directly interesting to man, and depend more or less on the pre- ceding, without exercising any influence upon them. Between these tioo extremes, the degrees of specialtij, of complication, and of the personality of phenomena, goon gradually augmenting, as also their successive dependence.* It is not to our present purpose to inquire into the merits of this encyclopsediacal division of the inductive sciences as compared with other schemes. We have alluded to it in order to call the attention to the great truth fixed on as its basis, and to the place which this basis gives to different natural phenomena, which are arranged according as they are less or more complicated, farther from or nearer to humanity. There are certain phenomena so simple and so little complicated, that science, without much difficulty, arranges them into a system. In these departments of nature, science first made progress, and has continued to this day to make the greatest progress. In other parts of the works of God, the phenomena are more involved in their relations, and in them physical inquiry has made the latest and the least advancement. It is owing to this difference of complication that astronomy and physics have made great progress when compared with the phy- siology of plants and animals. In some of the departments of the sciences which deal with more complex data, M. Comte acknowledges that it will be difiicult or impossible ever to arrive at clearly defined laws. The grand aim of science he states to be the discovery of laws, and, through this discovery, the attainment of foresight, and the power of acting on nature. " We ought to conceive the study of nature as destined to furnish the true rational basis of the action of man upon nature, because the knowledge of the laws of phenomena, of which the invariable result is foresight, and it alone, can enable us in active life to modify them, the one by the other, to our advantage. In short, SCIENCE WHENCE FORESIGHT, FORESIGHT WHENCE ACTION — SUCh is the simple formula which expresses in the simplest manner the general relation of science and art."f In the least complicated departments of nature, science having discovered a number of laws, gives considerable scope to foresight ; and man is enabled to adapt his actions to what he foresees. In other fields in which the arrangements are more complicated, foreknowledge, and the power which fore- knowledge confers, have as yet a very limited range ; and there are parts of God's works, in regard to which it may be doubted whether science will ever be able to discover the assemblage of laws, or art to turn them to any profitable use. The complication of nature, so baffing to human investigation, appears most strikingly in organized bodies. M. Comte says — " Every property of an organized * Pp. 96, 97. t Vol i. pp. C2, 63. ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. 167 body, be it goometric, be it mechanical, be it chemical, be it vital, is subjected in its quantity to immense numerical variations altogether irregular, which succeed each other at the briefest intervals, under the influence of a host of circumstances exterior and interior, and themselves variable in such a way that all idea of fixed numbers, and in consequence of mathematical laws, such as we can hope to lind, imply in reality a contradiction to the special nature of the class of phenomena. Thus, when wo wish to value with precision even the most simple qualities of a living being — for example, its mean density, or that of one of its principal parts, its temperature, the force of its internal circulation, the proportion of immediate elements that compose its solids or its fluids, the quantity of oxygen which it con- sumes in a given time, the mass of its absorptions and continual exhalations, &c., and, still more, the energy of its muscular powers, the intensity of its impressions, &c — it is needful, not only, as is evident, to make for each of these results as many observations as there are species or races, and of varieties in each species — we need forther to measure the changes, not inconsiderable, which this quantity experiences in passing from one individual to another ; and in reference to the •ame individual, according to its age, its state of health or disease, its internal disposition, and the circumstances of all kinds, and these incessantly changing, under the influence of which it finds itself placed, such as the constitution of the atmosphere, &c. It is the same, in a still higher degree, with social phenomena, which present a yet greater complication, and by consequence a yet greater variableness." He goes on to say, " that which engenders this irregular varia- bility of the effect, is the great number of different agents determining at the same time the same phenomena ; and from which it results in the most complicated phenomena, that there arc not two cases precisely alike. We have no occasion, in order to find such a difficulty, to go to the phenomena of living bodies. It presents itself already in bodies without life, when we consider the most complex cases — for example, in studying meteorological phenomena." This advocate of the pro- gress and power of knowledge is obliged to admit, — " Their miiltiplicity renders the efecU as irreqidarly variable as if every cause had not leen subjected to any precise condition."* It is only in certain departments of God's works that we can ever attain to anything like complete science, to extensive foresight, or that power which know- ledge confers. And let it be especially remarked that human science, and human sagacitj', and human potency, fail most in those parts of nature with which man is most intimately connected. As M. Comte again and again remarks, the phenomena which are the most simple and general, and therefore the most easily arranged into a science, are those " which are at the farthest distance from man,"| and the " farthest removed from humanity." Thus, the heavenly bodies, while utterly beyond man's reach or control, furnish in their laws and movements the easiest conquests to science. The most diflBcult problem in astronomy — that of the three bodies — is less complex than the most simple terrestrial problem. On the other hand, those phenomena which are the most complicated are the nearest to man, and the most directly interesting to him.J The laws of chemistry, for instance, on which man's sustenance so immediately depends, are more compli- cated than the movements of the heavenly bodies, or the mere mechanical laws of matter. The complication increases according as the objects attain a higher degree of organization, and becomes the greatest of all in the bodily frame of man, and, in that frame, in the nervous system, the part most intimately connected with the operations of the mind. When the social element is introduced, and • Pp. 153. 156. t P- 88. : P. £6. 168 PURPOSES SERVED BY THE animals and mankind are considered in their connexion with one anotbir, the complication, and consequently the difficulty, of attaining foreknowledge and control over nature is greatly increased. The legitimate conclusion (not drawn by M. Comte, but legitimately drawn from his observations) is, that 7nan is im- potent, in rerjard to the objects ivJiose laws he can discover, and that he is ignorant and dependent in retjard to the objects nearest himself, and tvith lohich he is most intimately connected. . The distribution of physical phenomena by M. Comte will be found, when sifted, to have a double basis, and to proceed on two separate principles. He arranges nature according as it is less complicated or more complicated ; but he arranges it, also, according as it is more removed or less removed from the control of humanity. Now, we cannot discover that these two are the same by any necessity in the nature of things. They correspond in fact ; but this is not by any necessity, (though M. Comte seems to think so,) but by the appointment of God. We cannot see how the phenomena farthest removed from humanity should necessarily be the most simple and easily determined by science, nor that the phenomena with which man is most intimately involved must needs be the most complicated. We observe, indeed, the converse parallelism of the two, and that, in fact, the most simple phenomena are the farthest from human control, and that the phenomena nearest toman, and most under his power, are the most complicated; but we believe that this parallelism is, by the special appointment of the Governor of the world, for a very special purpose, which we hope to discover in the following jection. Meanwhile, let us mark the results at which we have arrived in taking a survey of those domains of nature which science investigates in the hope of discovering laws. Starting from astronomy, and thence going to physics and chemistry, and rising from these to physiology and social physics, we are always coming nearer to objects with which man is more intimately connected, and we find as ice proceed that the objects become more and more complicated. And there are domains lying altogether beyond those claimed by science ; and these are still more complex in their nature, and bear a still closer relation to man. There are phenomena in which science never attempts to discover law — they, are so intricate and involved : and these, if we do not mistake, furnish the most potent of the agents employed by God in the government of man. These phenomena we are seeking in the text to catch as they fly past us, and to submit them to examination. SECT. II. — PURPOSES SERVED BY THE COMPLICATION AND THE FORTUITIES OF NATURE. This plan of government is the means of accomplishing several most important purposes. (1.) It gives a variety to the ivorks of God. It is conceivable, we have said, that all nature might have been so arranged that its operations, proceeding according to a few general laws, could have been readily anticipated. And there might, no doubt, in such a system, have been much that was grand and majestic, but there would have been at the same time a reigning samenesa and monotony. There could have been no field for the imagina- COMPLICATION AND FOrvTUITIES OF NATURE. 169 tion and f\incy to sport in, no object to call forth feelings of ■wonder and surprise. The future and the past, the heavens above and the earth around us, would have been as one vast uninteresting plain stretching out before and behind, on the right hand and on the left, without a height on which the eye might rest, or inviting us to ascend, that from its top we might descry new wonders. ]\Ian would not have been able to lose himself in a delightful mixture of hill and valley, of light and shadow, of sunshine and gloom ; nor to employ himself in im- folding half-concealed beauties, and diving into ever-opening grandeur and magnificence. " Eleusis," says Seneca, " reserves something for the second visit of the worshipper ; so, too, nature does not at once disclose all her mysteries." But in such a scheme there would have been little room for the discovery of developing properties, of new combinations, and unexpected scenes bursting on the view. The objects presented in nature would have left the same impression on the mind as the Egyp- tian architecture and sculpture, as the stupendous pyramid and the fixed gaze of the Sphinx, by one glance at which you see all that you ever can see. We should have contemplated these laws ever recurring, with much the same feelings as we look on a few gigantic wheels running their perpetual rounds with awful and irresistible power, and wearying the eye that gazes upon them. As soon as these obvious laws had been diifcovered, all scientific investigation must have ceased, because all has been discovered that ever can be discovered. Every event would have been anticipated before it happened ; or rather the mind, wearied with sameness, would have qeased to anticipate the future, since that future could present nothing which had not been seen before. Persons naturally of the most ardent curiosity, and quickest apprehension, would, in such a state of things, have hastened to give themselves up. to that abstraction which is reckoned so meritorious in eastern countries. But we find that these evils are avoided, and nature so far adapted to the consti- tution of man, by its laws being very numerous and diversified. (2.) It is by this property of the Divine government that God Jjrings to pass each of his imrposes, and makes general laws accomplish individual ends. He has so distributed and arranged material substances that their laws now check and restrain, and now assist and strengthen each other. By this means he varies 170 PUEPOSES SERVED BY THE the dread uniformity of natural laws, and arrests at the proper time the pi-ejudicial effects which would follow fi-om theii- un- bending mode of operation. We have said that we are not jealous of the discovery of law in the government of God, but it is because we have marked how law is made to operate. We would be as jealous of law as any man can be, if it acted as some represent it — we would be as jealous of it as of mere brute force under no control. "We are not jealous of the introduction and widest extension of general laws ; for in their harmonious adjustment, they acquire a plastic power which enables them to fulfil each of the purposes of an all-wise God. While the fixed nature of the laws gives to providence its firmness, the immense number and nice adaptation of these laws, like the innumerable rings of a coat-of-mail, give to it its flexibility, whereby it fits in to the shape and posture of every individual man. A vessel is launched upon the ocean, fitted, so far as human sagacity can discover, to reach its destination. But when it has reached a particular place, a great rarefaction of the air is pro- duced by heat in a particular region of the world ; the wind rushes in to fill up the vacuum, lashes the ocean into fury, bears down upon the vessel, and hurrying it furiously along, dashes it upon a rock which is in the way, and scatters the whole crew upon the wide waste of waters. The greater number perish ; but some two or three are able to lay hold of portions of the floating wreck, and are borne to the rock, where they find refuge till another ship, opportunely passing by, picks them up, at the very time when they were ready to die of hunger. Now, it is surely conceivable that an all-wise and an omnipotent God might have every link in this long and complicated chain ad- justed, with the special view of bringing about each of these ends — the drowning of some and the saving of others, after having designedly exposed them to danger. Nor in all this would there be any violation of the sequences of nature, nor any suspension of general laws ; there is merely such a skilful dis- position as to secure the special ends which God from the first contemplated. (3.) By this means, too, he can produce effects ivJiich could not have foUoived from the operation of the laws of nature acting singly. By their combination or collision, results follow which, in respect of magnitude and rapidity, far transcend the COMPLICATION AND FORTUITIES OF NATURE. 171 power of any one property of matter. This instrument employed by God may be compared to the screw, which is a mechanical power as well as the lever, or rather it is a complicated set of levers; and corresponding to it, we have in the tortuous, yet nicely adjusted arrangements of God, a potent means of extract- ing what would otherwise be fixed, and of elevating what is depressed, and all for the convenience and comfort of man. By this agency he can at one time increase, and at another time lessen or completely nullify, the spontaneous efi'orts of the fixed properties of matter. Now he can make the most powerful agents in nature — such as wind, and fire, and disease — coincide and co-operate to produce effects of such a tremendous magni- tude as none of them separately could accomplish ; and, again, he can arrest their influence by counteracting agencies, or rather by making them counteract each other. He can, for example, by a concurrence of natural laws, bring a person, who is in the enjoyment of health at present, to the very borders of death an hour or an instant hence ; and he can, by a like means, suddenly restore the same, or another individual, to health, after he has been compelled to take a look into eternity. By the confluence of two or more streams, he can bring agencies of tremendous potency to bear upon the production of a given efiect — such as a war, a pestilence, or a revolution ; and, on the other hand, by drawing aside the stream into another channel, he can arrest, at any given instant, the awful efiects that would otherwise follow from these agenci(!S, and save an individual, a family, or a nation, from evils which seem ready to burst upon them. Let it be observed that, in the method employed by God, he has not only the power which the separate agents are fitted to exercise, but he has a farther power derived from their skilful arrangement, as now they combine and co-operate, through a long series of years or ages, towards a given point, acquiring momentum as they move on, and again, as they come into col- lision, and burst with awful suddenness. Now we find causes which have been silently at work for ages, leading to a complete change in the manners, the customs, and character of a nation, or breaking out, where the channel in which they flow is full, in terrible convulsions, upturning society from its foundations. At other times, we find the wisest of human arrangements, and the results which mankind were anticipating, according to the laws 172 PURPOSES SERVED BY THE of human probability, all dissipated and confounded, as by a spark falling among combustible materials. If the event had happened a moment sooner, or a moment later, no such effects would have followed ; and the man of coldest heart, and most sophisticated head, is constrained to acknowledge that there has been a providence in that intervention at a crisis, which has changed the whole destiny of an individual or a community, of a nation or a continent * (4.) Nor let it be forgotten that by this means human fore- sight is lessened^ human 230iver controlled, and man renderea dependent on his Maker. There are domains of nature in which man's foresight is con- siderably extended and accurate, and other domains in which it is very limited, or very dim and confused. Again, there are departments of nature in which man's influence is considerable, and others which lie altogether beyond his control, directly or indirectly. Now, on comparing these classes of objects, we find them to have a cross or converse relation to one another. . Where man's foreknowledge is extensive, either he has no power, or his power is limited ; and where his power might be exerted, his foresight is contracted. His power of anticipating distant con- jequences, or of prediction, is greatest in regard to astronomical movements, or great physical changes ; and here the agents are beyond his control. His influence can be exercised over agents with which he is more nearly connected, as over his own bodily frame, and thp anima,! and vegetable kingdoms ; but here his foresight is restricted within very narrow limits. He can draw out an astronomical p-lnaanac for centuries to come, but he can- not tell in what state any one animate object that is dear to him may be on the morrow. He can tell in what position a * There was a great truth liodied forth, in an exaggerated form, in Leibnitz's doctrine of pre-established harmony. There are events having no connexion in the way of cause and effect, which are made to fit into each other, and act in unison, because of an arrangement at the original constitution of all things. The error of Leibnitz arose from his carrying out his monadical theory, and denying that there could not also be causal relations. " He could not hold that mind changes the laws of matter, or that matter could change the laws of mind." {Conformity of Faith and Reason.) There is a pre-established harmony, (1,) in natural agents being so constituted that they act causally on each other ; and, (2,) in events not causally connected being made to concur and co-operate. The former of these was overlooked by Leibnitz. The two constitute the true doctrino of pre-established harmony. COMPLICATION AND FORTUITIES OF NATURE. 173 satellite of Saturn will be a hundred years after this present time, but he cannot say in what state his bodily health may be an hour hence. The objects luithin the range of man's fore- sight are placed hcTjond his i^oiuer, ichile the ohjects ivithinhis power lie beyond his foresight. In the one case, man's know- ledge increases without an increase of his power ; and in the other, his power is rendered ineffectual by his want of know- ledge. By the one contrivance as by the other, while not shut out from knowledge on the one hand, nor precluded from activity on the other, he is yet, both in regard to his knowledge and activity, rendered dependent on the arrangements of heaven. We do not mean to undervalue the power which knowledge confers ; but there are anticipations entertained in the present day on this subject, which are destined to meet with bitter dis- appointment. Knowledge must extend in one or other of two departments ; either in departments of nature beyond man's reach, as in those investigated in astronomy and natural philo- soi)hy, or in departments more within his control, and which fall under chemistry and natural history, under physiology and political and social economy. But so far as knowledge increases in the former, it brings with it no efiScient power, for the" objects are beyond his influence. He cannot control the smallest satel- lite or aerolite in its course, nor direct any of the great physical agents of nature. No doubt, there are other natural objects within his reach — he can experiment on the chemical elements and niiake new dispositions of the vegetable and animal worlds ; but then, in regard to these agents of nature, his foreknowledge is very contracted; for they are so involved one w-ith another, that it would require a superhumati sagaoity from a knowledge of the laws to predict the actual results. Man can tell how fast the earth moves in its orbit ; but his knowledge does not enable him to stay or hasten it in its course. He can experiment with the elements of the atmosphere ; but he cannot tell how the wind may be blowing at the close of his experiment. He can reach the plants and animals arouiid him, and so for modify them ; but then the plant which lie is training with sucli pains may die in the midst of his operations ; and the animated being which he expects to help him may be carried oflf by disease when its aid is most required. Knowledge is power; and why is itpo^V(er ? Because it imparts 174 PURPOSES SERVED BY THE foresight, and foresight furnishes control. There is fiist know- ledge, then foresight, and then action. But we see that there are barriers both to the foresight and to the action — barriers against which human pride may chafe and rage, but which it cannot break down. Where the foresight is large, the action is restrained ; and where the field of action is wide, the foresight is confined. The confident expectations of the power likely to accrue from knowledge, could be realized only by the foresight ever imparting a power of action, and by the power of action having provided for it an available foresight. But there are limits to the one and to the other ; where the one is enlarged, the other is confined ; and where power is imparted in the one, it is counteracted by a corresponding weakness in the other. No doubt there is great room, as knowledge increases, at once for advancing foresight and action ; but still there are necessary limits to both ; and all that man may feel his dependence, alike in the one as in the other, on the government of God. Human sagacity and activity will both increase as the world grows older ; but both the one and the other will find checks raised to humble them in their very extension. No man feels his impotence more than he who knows all the courses of the stars, and yet feels that he cannot influence them in the least degree ; except it be the person who sees himself surrounded by agents which he can to some extent control, but which in a far higher degree control him, and disappoint by their unexpected movements his best laid schemes. The farther human knowledge penetrates, it dis- covers, with a painful sense of weakness, the more objects utterly beyond its control, and moving on in their own independent sphere. The greater human activity becomes, it complicates the more the relations of society, and the relations of man to the most capricious of the agents of nature ; and the greater the power he exerts, he feels himself the more powerless in the grasp of a higher power. Increased knowledge should make him bow in deeper reverence before infinite knowledge ; and his own aug- mented action cause him to acknowledge, in a deeper feeling of helplessness, the irresistible might of the action of the Almighty. We are now in circumstances to discover the advantasres arising from the mixture of uniformity and uncertainty in the operations of nature. Both serve most important ends in the government of God. The one renders nature steady and stable; COMPLICATION AND FORTUITIES OF NAlURE. 175 tlie other active and accommodating. Without the certainty, man would waver as in a dream, and wander as in a trackless desert; without the unexpected changes, he would make his rounds like the gin-horse in its circuit, or the prisoner on his wheel. Were nature altogether capricious, man would likewise become altogether capricious, for he could have no motive to steadflist action ; again, were nature altogether fixed, it would make man's character as cold and formal as itself The recur- rences of nature surround us by friends and familiar faces, and we feel that we can walk with security and composure in the scenes in which our Maker has placed us ; the occurrences of nature, on the other hand, bring us into contact with new objects and strangers, and quicken our energies by means of the feelings of curiosity and astonishment which are awakened. The wisdom of God is seen alike in what he hath made fixed, and in what he hath left free. The regularity, when it is observed by man, is the means of his attaining knowledge, scientific and practical ; while the events which we call accidental enable God to turn the projects of mankind as he pleases, towards the fulfilment of his own wise and mysterious ends. Without the uniformity, man would be absolutely helpless ; without the contingencies, he would become proud and disdainful. If the progressions of na- ture induce us to cherish trust and confidence, its digi-essions constrain us to entertain a sense of dependence. By the one class of arrangements, man is made to feel security, and is prompted to that industry to which security gives scope ; by the other, he is constrained to feel that he needs the blessing of heaven, and is led to pour out his soul to God in humble suppli- cations. In the one, we see how all is arranged to suit our nature ; and in the other, we discover that we are as dependent on God as if notlnng had been fixed or determined : and so the one invites to praise, and the other to prayer. It is by the admirable union and blending of the two that man is encour- aged to cherish a grateful confidence, and act upon it, while at the same time he is obliged to entertain a feeling of dependence, and humble himself before a higher power. Let it be added, tiiat while the one shows how God would allure us to put confi- dence in himself, the other proves that he puts no confidence in us ; and thus, while the one should incite to gratitude and love^ the other should awe us into reverence and humility. 176 PURPOSES SERVED BY THE Nor is it a less beautiful provision of God that the uniformity and the contingency are alike under the direct control of God, by their both following from causes which he hath put in opera- tion. The contingency has a respect to man and not to God, with whom it is certainty. Even in regard to the fortuities of life, men can cherish the confidence that they are under the control of infinite wisdom and goodness. They may seem light as gases or floating vapours ; but, like them, wherever they go they are under central attraction, which keeps them in their places as necessary parts, as the elastic agents of the system. (5.) It is by the twofold operation of these two grand powers tJiat society is made to move forward. The one gives to society its statical, and the other its dynamical power. The uniform laws are like the orderly strata produced in the ancient geo- logical world throughout; long ages, and by the peaceful agency of water. The contingencies, again, may be compared to those upheavals which have been produced by boiling igneous matter pouring itself from the bowels of the earth, and raising the sedi- ment of the ocean to become the peaks of the highest mountains. It seems as if society at large required, as individual men also require, the agency of both elements. Without the one all would be bare and rugged, and without the other all would be flat and tame. The result of both is existing society, with its high elevations towering over and sheltering its sequestered vales. The one, to vary our illustration, is the conservative, and the other the reforming princij^le in the constitution of the world. The one gives to it its equality and peace, and the other keeps it from stagnating and breeding corruption. The one is the centri- petal, and the other the centrifugal force ; and it is by their nice' adjustment that the world moves along in its allotted sphere. And let us mark how many of the great changes which have given life to society, have arisen not so much from the orderly and anticipated successions of events as from those that are un- expected and fortuitous. All great living movements have originated where mighty rivers rise, in the midst of ruggedness. No doubt, there, must have been antecedent predisposing and heaven-appointed causes, just as the rains of heaven supply the materials, and the interior of the hills the channels, for the waters that gush out in the springs among the mountains ; but in themselves they have leapt at once into exifitence, and dashed COMPLICATION AND FORTUITIES OF NATURE. 177 along in impetuous torrents ; the oppositicm ofKircd has lasheJ thein into turbulence, but has not been able to ?tein their pro- gress— nay, it may only have been the means of imparting to tlicm a greater and more irresistible rapidity. Of this descrip- tion have been almost all the great movements for good — religious, political, or social — which have stirred society. As these streams make progress, all opposition vanishes in the sense of the utter hopelessness of the effort to oppose them ; and they at length sweep along amidst wide-spread fertility, which they enrich and adorn — would we had not to add, often without the purity and energy which once they had, and at last they lose all separate existence as they expand themselves, and are absorbed among other influences, as in a great circumambient ocean. It is also carious to observe how, by an exquisitely balanced sj'stera of counterpoises, these two elements are rendered much the same in all ages of the world, at all stages of society, and in all grades of life. In the simpler states of society, as in the shepherd life, and among the lower and uneducated classes, there is less observation of the constancy of nature ; but there is, at the same time, less exposure to sudden reverses, and the other changes produced by the complication of human relations. As society advances in civilisation, and men's views become more expanded, they observe more of the regularity of law, and acquire a greater power over the refractory agents of nature ; but in the same proportion their points pf contact with other and distant objects are multiplied, and as they become more independent in one respect, they become more dependent in others. The elevated classes of society have, no doubt, a larger prospect, but they are exposed to more dreadful storms than those who dwell in the quieter vales of human life ; and when driven fiom their height, their fall is the greater, and, owing to the refinement of their minds, they feel it with infinitely greater acuteness. Tbe event which the peasant regards as isolated, and refers to special miracle, is observed by the man of enlarged education to be one of a class, and connected with others happening in other parts of the w.'^rld ; but in the very circumstances which have led the latter to make this observation, he has enlarged the number of his connexions, and become dependent on objects which cannot, by any possibility, reach or touch the former. The express which brings to the man of reading and intelligence the notice of an M 178 PURPOSES SEEVED BY THE earthquake which has visited some distant country, and by which he explains some partial shock felt near his dwelling, that so roused the superstitious fear of the cottager, also informs him of the failure of a crop in that particular country, to the great de- triment of his trade, or announces the painful intelligence of the decease of a beloved son for whose welfare he has been toiling. There are proud enthusiasts who conclude that, by advancing in knowledge and the useful arts, man will soon be able to command nature, and become independent of it. It is singular to observe how every mind paints a golden age for the future destinies of our world, and each mind colours that age with its own hues. The golden age of the philosopher is an anticipated period in which man shall be able to control all, and yet be controlled of none. But the philosopher forgets one most im- portant element in his calculation — and that is, that in very proportion as society becomes more artificial, it becomes moro reticulated, and the destinies of every one portion more con- nected with those of every other, and that the snapping of one link in this network may throw the whole into inextricable con- fusion. In short, both the regular and the contingent pervade nature, and we cannot free ourselves from the one or the other ; and man, whether in his lesser or wider spheres, whether in the ruder or more civilized states of society, is made to fall in with very much the same proportion of both. As entertaining this view of the perfection of the original .constitution of all things, we see no advantage in calling in special interpositions of God acting without physical causes — always excepting the miracles employed to attest Divine revela- tion. Speaking of the ordinary providence of God, we believe that the fitting of the various parts of the machinery is so nice that there is no need of any interference with it. We believe in an original disposition of all things ; we believe that in this disposition there is provided an interposition of one thing in reference to another, so as to produce the individual effects which God contemplates ; but we are not required by philosophy nor religion to acknowledge, that there is subsequent interposition by God with the original dispositions and interpositions which he hath instituted. " This is, in fact, the great miracle of provi- dence, that no miracles are needed to accomplish its purposes,"* * Taylor's Nat. Hist, of Enthusiasm. COMPLICATION AND FORTUITIES OF NATURE, 179 " God," says Leibnitz, " has provided everything, he has re- medied everything, beforehand. There is in his works a liar- raony, a beauty, ah'eady pre-established. This opinion does not at all exclude the providence or the government of God. A true providence on the part of God demands a perfect fore- knowledge ; but it demands not only that he has foreseen every- thing, but also that he has provided for everything — otherwise he is deficient either of the wisdom to foresee or the power to provide." Samuel Clarke, in a controversy which he carried on with Leibnitz, urges that this view does not render the universe dependent on God, and so he argues that God interposes from time to time to set his works right. To this Leibnitz replies : — " That defect of our machines which renders them in need of repair, arises from the circumstance that they are not sufficiently dependent on the workman. Thus the dependence of nature upon God, so far from being the cause of this defect, is rather the cause why the defect does not exist, because it is dependent on a v/orkraan too perfect to make a work which needs to be repaired.'* We see no advantage to be gained to religion by insisting that the ordinary events in the common providence of God can liave no second cause. Bacon,f speaking on this subject, says, — " For certain it is that God worketh nothing in nature but by second causes ; and if they would have it otherwise believed, it is mere imposture, as it were, in favour towards God, and nothing else but to offer to the Author of truth the unclean sacrifice of a lie. But farther, it is an assured truth, and a conclusion of experience, that a little or supei-ficial knowledge of philosophy may incline the man to atheism, but a farther proceeding therein doth bring the mind back again to religion ; for in the entrance of philosophy, when the second causes which are next unto the senses do offer themselves to the mind of man, if it dwell and otay there, it may induce some oblivion of the highest cause ; but when a man passeth on farther, and seeth the dependence of causes and the works of Providence, then, according to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe that the highest link of nature's chain must needs be tied to the foot of Jupiter's chair.":j: * Pee Letters between Leibnitz and Clarke, f De Aug. Scion. J Eighth Edition — The late Professor Baden Powell ("Order of Nature," p. 212) and Professor Goldwin Smith ("Rational Religion," p. 110) have attacked Dr. Mansel because he has referred in hia "Bampton Lectures" (Lect. VI. and 180 PURPOSES SERVED BY THE FORTUITIES OF NATURE, coiTesponding notes in Appendix) to tlie doctrine expounded in these sections. IJ'.-. Maneel very properly replies that his "responsibility for the theory in question w.i- limited to quoting with approbation the language of a contemporary writer." — (Second Letter to Professor Goldwin Smith, p. 68.) Neither of the Oxford Professors deigns to name this treatise, nor is there any evidence that either had read or pondered the exposition which it contains of that view of Providence which both so scornfully reject. Mr. Powell does nothing more than scoff at the " absurd kind of jealousy of physcial science shown by certain writers." The scoff cannot apply to this work, where such pains have been taken to show that law reigns so universally in physical nature — it should be added, pains being also taken to estab- lish a very different religious doctrine from that of Mr. Powell, who seems to identify " physical order" with "reason and mind," and with God himself. Pro- fessor G. Smith refers to a certain school of religious philosophers, who " appear to cling to the last remnant of the arbitrary and marvellous in nature as though it were the last stronghold of religion." This language is equally inapplicable to this treatise, in which we have laboured to show that God is to be seen in those general laws which are the expression of his wisdom. He urges, first, that the weather, ■' though variable in England, is comparatively stable on the continent, and still niore stable between the tropics ;" and, secondly, he calls us to notice in how awkward a position we should be, provided the " meteorological observations which are now going on should result in the reduction of the weather to general laws." Mv. G. Smith is a very clever man; but his judgments would be sounder provided he gave a more careful consideration to the subjects on which he ventures to pronounce an opinion. If he had looked into the work to which Dr. Mansel expressly refers as containing the view criticised, he would have seen that all this was not only allowed but stated. Wc have insisted that causation and law are to be found in the weather, and that there is nothing " arbitrary" in any department cf nature. We have fortunately referred to the regularity of the trade winds Cp. 101), and have declared (p. 91) that "meteorology promises to be exalted into a science by late discoveries." We have admitted too (p. 174), that there is " great room, as knowledge increases, at once for advancing foresight and action." But alongside of this class of facts we have placed another which we reckon of no less importance, though they are often overlooked by scientific men. We have shown that there is a complication in nature which constitutes as remarkable a peculiarity of its structure as its uniformity, and that this complexity imposes limits on human foresight and sagacity, and renders man dependent on arrangements which have been made by a Higher Power. In regard to the regularity of the weather, Admiral Fitzroy, in his "Weather Book," tells us that, by combining barometric observations telegraphed from various places, he can say what the '■^probable character of the M'eather will be to-morrow or the day after." He allows that the prediction is "liable to be occasionally, though rarely, marred by an unex- pected downrush of southerly wind, or by a rapid electrical action," and that he avoids "minute or special details, such as showers at particular places, or merely local squalls." But tJiough the weather were to become the subject of strict science and prediction, nay, though it were removed out of the class of complicated into that of clear phenomena, the general doctrine of these sections would not be inter- fered with. ON A GENERAL AND PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 181 SECT. III. — ON A GENERAL AND PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE, There have been disputes among thinking minds in all ages as to whether the providence of God is general or particular. Philosophers, so called, have generally taken the former view, and divines the latter. There has been a Avide dilTerence be- tween the views of these two parties, but there is no necessary antagonism between the doctrines themselves. The general providence of God, properly understood, reaches to the most particular and minute objects and events; and the particular ])rovidence of God becomes general by its embracing every particular. Those who suppose that there is a general, but that there cannot be a particular providence, are limiting God by ideas derived from human weakness. The greatest of human minds, in contemplating important ends, are obliged to overlook many minor events falling out incidentally as they execute their plans. The legislator, for example, is sometimes under the necessity of disregarding the temporary misery which the changes introduced by him, and which are advantageous as a whole, may bring along with them. In short, in attending to the general, man must often overlook the particular. But we are not to suppose that an infinite God, infinite in his power, his wisdom, his re- sources, and present through all his works, is laid under any such inability to attend to particular events, because he is also superintending empires and worlds. The pains, if we may so speak, which God has taken to beautify every leaf and flower — nay, every weed that we trample under foot — the new beauties, unseen by the naked eye, which the microscope discloses in the vegetable kingdoms, and the beautiful organization of the insect world — all show that the greatness of God is peculiarly seen in the care which he takes of objects the most minute. On the other hand, they take a most unworthy view of the Divine character who conclude that his attention is directed exclusively to a few fiivourite objects, in which they themselves })ossibly feel a special interest. Here, again, we discover the tendency of mankind to measure Deity by standards derived from human infirmity. It not unfrequently happens that the minute man, who manages with care and kindness his own affairs and those of his family, has no very enlarged views or 182 ON A GENERAL AND feelings of general philanthropy. Taking such a model as this, there are piously disposed minds who would make God " alto- gether such an one as themselves ;" and conceiving it to be impossible for him, in the attention which he must pay to cer- tain objects, to provide for the wants of all his creatures, they would praise him, because, in the exercise of what would truly be a weak favouritism, he is supposed to pass by and disregard the whole world in the extraordinary care which he takes of persons who are the special objects of his regards. In the government of this world, the individual is not lost in the general on the one hand, nor is the general neglected in the attention to the individual on the other hand. No creature, no object, however insignificant, has been overlooked. The generai includes every individual, which finds accordingly its appropriate place. Provision has been made for all and for each in the grand system of the universe. The particular method which God employs in accomplishing these ends, apparently inconsistent, has already been pointed out. It is not so much by means of those laws on which the minds of the votaries of science are prone to dwell, as by their all-wise and skilful combination for the production of the par- ticular ends which God designs. Philosophers have looked too exclusively to these general laws ; and in doing so, have been able to detect few traces of a special providence. On the other hand, the person whose heart prompts him to observe the ways of his Creator, has ever fondly dwelt on those cross arrangements, many of them apparently accidental, by which God makes pro- vision for the wants of his creatures, and nicely adapts his dispensations to their state and character. " Think we, like some weak prince, the Eternal Cause Prone for his favourites to reverse his laws ? Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires, Forget to thunder, and recall her fires ; On air or sea new motions be imprest, Oh, blameless Bethel, to relieve thy breast ; When the loose mountain trembles from on high, Shall gravitation cease if you go by?" — Essay on Man. Pope has in these few lines stated, in his usual compact and sententious manner, what is commonly called the philosophic view of providence. It is a system far enough from the surface to make it appear deep, but does not go sufficiently far down to PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 183 reach the foundation. In some respects, it affords a worse basis on which to raise a superstructure than the surface patent to ail would have done ; and it is utterly insecure, because it has not gone down to the rock. It has just a sufficient amount of truth to be plausible. And so far as advanced merely with the view of keeping us from committing foolish actions, in the hope that God will interpose to preserve us from the natural consequences, so far as it is used for the purpose of preventing persons from tempting Providence, (to use the hinguage of a very different school.) it may be made as useful as it is unquestionably sound. But if meant, as it obviously is, to keep us from putting confi- dence in Divine providence, and feeling our close and immediate dependence upon it, it cannot be condemned in language suffi- ciently strong : for it would rob many of some of their deepest and most abiding consolations, and foster in others a spirit of pride and rebellion. Nor is it difficult to detect the error which lurks beneath a superficial plausibility. We expect not the Eternal to change his laws ; but it is because they have been so wisely arranged that they do not need to be changed — arranged so as to accomplish all and each of his purposes. We do not expect Etna to recall her fires when a sage is near ; or the air and ocean to acquire new motions to preserve a saint from dan- ger ; for if the sage has been contending with the laws which he professes to observe, or if the saint has been despising what he should regard as the " ordinances of heaven," it may be the will of God that these very powers should be the means of destroying him. But should these individuals not be rushing recklessly against the known laws of heaven, or should it be the will of God to preserve them, it will be found that provision has been made for their escape ; and that not through the powers of nature disobeying their own laws, but through other powers in nature opportunely interposing to stop, to turn aside, or otherwise to modify their operation. The volcano may burst, the tempest may rage, and the cliff may fall, an instant before or an instant after the time when these events might have been followed with fatal consequences ; or some passing impulse of feeling may have hurried the individual away ; or some other agent of nature may have hastened to shelter or defend him, and all by a special arrangement intended by God from the very beginning. 184 ON A GENERAL AND Living as we do under such a system, we are not at liberty to draw distinctions, and to represent Grod as taking charge of and ordaining some events, but not other events or all events. No such distinction should be drawn ; no such distinction can be drawn. As we make the attempt, we find that no line can be described which will divide the two territories which we would separate. Balbus the Stoic, in Cicero De Naturd Deorum, quoting from, or referring to, a line in Euripides, says, " Magna dii curant, parva negligunt," and adds, " Magnis autem viris prospere eveniunt semper omnes res." But every one sees that the dif- ference between great and small is but a difference of degree of comparison ; and no one can point out the place where the one ends and the other begins, or arrange actual events under so loose a classilication. Every one knows, too, that great events often depend on events which are in themselves insignificant ; and if small events were above or beneath God's control, great events would soon get beyond his dominion. In modern times, many attempts have been made to draw the line of distinction, but alvv^ays in the very loosest manner. Is it said we may discover God in those events which have a cause, but not in those which have no cause ? The answer is at hand, in the fact now acknowledged, that every event has a cause. Or is it rather hinted that the distinction lies in this, that the cause of the one event is known, and of the other unknown ? This view lands us in the absurdity of making man's knowledge, which varies in the case of individuals and ages in the world's history, the measure or test of the presence of Deity. Some, again, would exclude God wherever a general law or a second cause can be detected — forgetting that these laws or causes are ordained by God, and the special expression of his will. Others would confine his intentions to the immediate results of general laws, and exclude him from those apparent fortuities which result from the concurrence or collision of the general properties of matter ; but in doing so, they forget that individual incidents, as well as general phenomena, proceed from the powers of nature which God hath put in operation, and from the adjustments which he hath instituted. We cannot legitimately draw such a distinction as would admit the presence of God in certain effects which flow more directlv from general laws, and exclude liim PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. 185 from other events that follow as certainly, though it may be in a more inc^irect and devious manner, from the very same laws. We cannot say of any one event, this is the mere scaffolding, and of this other, it is the building — for the very scaffolding is part of the building. The mean is an end in God's works ; and the end is a mean to something farther. In short, we cannot draw distinctions which do not exist in nature. Every trial that is made will shew that the attempt is vain. The inevitable prac- tical result of drawing such a distinction is manifest. Mankind would ascribe to God only what they pleased, and this would turn out to be what suited their humour ; and they would ascribe to fortune, to fate, or to law, everything else in which they did not wish to discover the presence of God. Under such a system faith would be the servant, and not, as it ought, the master of human feeling. If we see God in any one part of his works, we must, for a like reason, see him in every other part. If we exclude him from any one part, we must, for a like reason, exclude him from all. The conclusion is forced upon us, that we are to see God in all events, even in those that may seem most trifling and minute. The saying commends itself to enlightened reason, as well as to faith and feeling, "A sparrow cannot fall to the ground without him." " The very hairs of our head are all numbered." The half-learned man is apt to laugh at the simple faith of the clown or savage, who tells us that rain comes from God. The former, it seems, has discovered that it is the product of certain laws of air, water, and electricity. But truly the peasant is the more enlightened of the two, for he has discovered the main cause, and the real actor ; while the other has found only the second cause, and the mere instrument. It is as if a friend were to send us a gift of ingenious and beautiful workmanship, and just as our gratitude was beginning to rise to the donor, some bystander were to endeavour to damp it all, by telling us that the gift i.s the pioduct of certain machinery which he had seen. " I call," says Sir Thomas Browne, " the effects of nature the works of God, whose hand and instrument she only is ; and therefore to ascribe his actions unto her is to devolve the honour of the princii)al agent upon the instrument, which if with reason we may do, then let our hammers rise up and boast that they Lave built our houses, and our pen receive the honour of our 186 ON A GENERAL AND PARTICULAR PROVIDENCE. writings."* It is surely possible for us so to expand uur minds as to discover both the agent and the instrument — to discover the goodness of God in the blessing sent, and the wisdom of God in the means, so adapted to our state, through which the blessing comes. It is instructive to observe how the views of the peasant and philosopher meet and harmonize at this point. The savage, when guided by faith, sees God in every circumstance. Overlooking all instrumental causes, he ascribes every event to the god whom he worships. The half-educated man is taught to observe, that certain events have second causes ; and in regard to these, he is tempted to feel that it is not needful to call in the Divine power to account for them. As such science increases, one portion of God's works after another is taken from under his dominion ; and simple faith is being superseded by a widening scepticism. But as science makes further progress, it discovers that all the affairs of the world proceed from causes that are fixed, and so concate- nated, that if we exclude God from any of his works, we must, on the same ground, exclude him from them all ; and that if we admit him in any case, we are necessitated to admit him in every case. The enlightened philosopher, who has penetrated farthest into the mysteries of nature, arrives at last at the conclusion with which the believing savage and peasant set out, that God is to be seen in the rain, in the sunshine, and in every occurrence. The course through which society passes is that through which many a youth has to run before he reaches a settled belief. Trained in a pious household, he was led to see the hand of God in every object which presented itself to his eye ; till, on being initiated in a secular and ill-understood science, he feels as if he might separate and remove certain portions of nature from the direct power of God. The true cure for the evils which proceed from a half learning is to be found in a thorough learning. When this youth has reached a greater height, the error pro- ceeding from imperfect glimpses will disappear. The views which he caught in climbing the hill of science were more partial and confused than those which he obtained while standing on the plain below ; and it is not till he reaches the summit, and the whole scene stretches out beneath him, that they become cleai and comprehensive. * Religio Medici, Sect. 16. ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. 187 Human science contemplated under this aspect is a circle ; as we "-o round it, we obtain many pleasant and instructive views ; but we arrive at last at the point at which we set out, or should have set out — at simple faith in an all-acting God. Illustrative Note (e.)— COMBE'S CONSTITUTION OF MAN. This work Las had so extensive a circulation in this country and in America, that it demands a passing notice. It is a congelation, and all by natural law, cf a cold and secular age, ■which it has by reaction rendered still more frigid. In examining it, we shall not enter upon the consideration of the phrenology which the author has used to explain his theory, for, as he remarks himself, the practical value of the views which he unfolds does not depend on phrenology ; and he inti- mates that the same views could be expounded, though not so eflfectually, upon another system. We are quite willing to admit that there are some important truths set forth in this treatise. This world is governed by what he calls natural, organic, and moral laws. The classification is perhaps not very philosophically worded — for surely organic laws are also natural laws; and when we speak of moral laws, we should remember that they are totally different from physical laws. But disregarding this, we do reckon it as of some importance, that mankind should be reminded that this world is governed by laws, and that it is their duty to study these laws, and accommodate themselves to them. His book, we doubt not, is so far fitted to make men observant and prudent, and may have checked, in some cases, that rashness among the young, and over-exertion among the eager and ambitious, which have produced such fatal effects. In short, he has given a prominence to certain points which common sense and common prudence were ever observing, and not unfrequeutly magnifying far beyond their real importance, but which re- ligion and enthusiasm were sometimes tempted to overlook in an eagerness to attain their glorious ends. He has also pointed out several important and deeply inter- esting relations between the constitution of the world and the constitution of man. We feel now, however, as if we had exhausted all the praise which can be be- stowed upon this treatise, the actual truth set forth in which has been used as a means of conveying not a little error, as food is commonly employed in the admin- istering of poison. He carries out his very limited and partial views as if they were the whole tnith, and has committed several inexcusable errors, and drawn conclusions which would go far to sap the foundations of a living religion. Let us notice some of the more glaring defects of the work. First, all but pb^nologists will doubt whether he has given a correct enumera- tion of those laws which mankind are required to observe; and even the higher class of phrenologists will reckon the laws which he so magnifies as truly not the most important, and as not having had their proper relative importance attached to them. Secondly, he has completely overlooked the ambiguity which lurks in the word "law," and used it in all the diverse senses of which it is capable, passing uncon- sciously from the one to the other, and predicating of a law in one sense what is true of it only in another. Sometimes he means by it a property of matter, some- times a cause requiring the adjustment of two or more substances to each other; at other times a general fact originating in the adjustment of causes, and anon a moral precept enjoined by God. With the greatest coolness and self-complacenc^f^ 188 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. he uses the -word " law ' in all these senses, -without ever dreaming that there is any difference between them ; constantly asserting of a general fact what is true only of a property of matter, and of a physical cause what holds good only of a moral precept. Thirdly — and this is his most inexcusable oversight — he overlooks altogether that adjustment of natural laws to each other, whereby the results are often of the most complicated character, and such that they cannot be anticipated by human foresight. While all events are occurring according to the law of cause and effect, they are not happening in that orderly and regular manner which we call a gene- ral law. On the contrary, many events are falling out in an accidental unforeseen manner, which is fitted to make man feel his helplessness. The author, in disre- garding this circumstance, this complication of the arrangements of Proi^dence, and the consequent dependence of man, has overlooked a principle in the Divine government as impoi-tant as that method of general laws on which his attention has been exclusively fixed. Fourthly, and as following from the oversight last mentioned, he has neglected to observe that mankind are as dependent on the arrangements of Providence as they are on natural and organic laws. Hence the efiicacy of prayer to bring an answer is boldly denied, and no encouragement given to faith, to a sense of de* pendence, and to other graces, such as faith, submission, meekness, and patience, so strongly recommended by religion under all its beneficent forms, and so becom- ing on the part of man in the state in which he is at present placed. Fifthly, he robs the sufferer of everything fitted to impart true consolation. A poor widow has her house burned, or has lost her husband in consequence of the shipwreck of his vessel ; and all the comfort that this philosopher has to offer is, that it is a good thing that fire burns and that winds blow. He comes to her and says, " Would you have fire not to burn ? then remember, if it does not burn it cannot warm you." " Would you have winds not to blow ? then bear in mind that the air will become so stagnant that you cannot breathe it." Whatever the prudent and worldly may say to such a system, when his plans are all prospering, and he is hymning an anthem of praise to his own wisdom, the sufferer feels that he needs to be told of an overruling Providence which has appointed that parti- cular event for good, and of a living God who feels for the sorrows to which his creatures are exposed. Sixthly, he anticipates for individuals and communities an unreasonable extent of benefit to be secured by the mere observation of general laws. It is amusing to notice the wrath (all cool though he usually be) into which he works himself when blaming mankind for not observing these laws, and the constant predictions which he is uttering about their producing an Elysian perfection, when they shall have become so wise as to allow phrenology to instruct them. Surely there must be something wrong in human nature when it has so neglected these laws for six thousand years, is the reflection which rises up in our minds on reading his Ian guage; and is there not a risk, we are inclined to whisper in his ear, that this evil nature may-abide with us in time to come, and disappoint some of his brightest expectations ? Is there not a risk, too, that if men by natural laws could do all which Combe supposes, they might be tempted to abuse their power ? The wise will rejoice that there is such a system of checks in the providence of God that man is often rendered helpless, and is at all times dependent ; for they sec that Buch is the selfishness of the race, and such the power of their lower propensities, that if they could do more by natural laws, the evils which abound in society would be fearfully increased. We, too, look for the dawn of a brighter era in ouJ METHOD OF INTERPRETING PROVIDENCE. 189 aarth's history ; but we look for it to the providence of God, and the transforming power of his Spirit. These objections to his views of natural and organic laws are altogether inde- pendent of those which might be brought against his theory of " moral law," the examination of which would cause us to anticipate the ethical inquiries to be after- wards instituted. It is the less needful to examine his moral theory, from the cir- cumstance that there is notliing in it different from other meagre ethical systems, except it be, that he so often classes "moral" with "natural" law, and confounds things which the mere tyro in science has been taught to separate. AVe have so far noticed this treatise, because there is an air of extraordinary wisdom about it, which has made many to regard it as superlatively profound. The author has seen and endeavoured to count the nice wheels of the machine, but has overlooked their relation to one another, and the moving power by which they have been set in motion. His views are about as profound as those of a factory-girl, explaining, with looks of mysterious wisdom, to her companion who has just entered the work, the movements of some of the straps or wheels, telling her how to use them, and pointing out the danger of not attending to them. The information is all very good and useful, provided always that it be not hinted, that in knowing the motion of these few wheels, we know all about the machine, its end, and its mode of operation. BECT. IV. — METHOD OF INTERPRETING THE DIVINE PROVIDENCS, Providence is no doubt a lesson-book, spread out before us that we may read it. Yet it is a difficult and mysterious book There are persons who talk of the certainty of nature, in con- tradistinction to what they are pleased to call the obscurity of the Scriptures. And, no doubt, the volume of inspiration has its mysteries ; for, as Eobert Hall remarks, " a religion without its mystery would be a temple without its God ;" but, most as- suredly, the volume of Providence is as much more difficult of interpretation than the volume of the Word, as hieroglyphical writing is than alphabetical. How is the providence of God to be interpreted ? This general question resolves itself into three particular ones, which, are often confounded, but which ought to be carefully separated : — To what extent is God to be seen in tlie works of nature ? When may we discover an intended connexion between one part of God's works and another ? When may w^e discover the particular design of a given dispensation ? I. To WHAT EXTENT IS GOD TO BE SEEN IN THE WORKS OF NATURE 7 — To this question a clear and decisive answer can be given. He is to be seen in every work of nature and event of providence. 190 METHOD OF INTERPRETING Had God confined himself to the blind operation of general laws, it might have been difficult to determine as to any given event, whether it was one ol the objects contemplated as desir- able to be produced when the law was fixed, or whether it is merely one of its incidental effects. But in consequence of the infinitely wise adjustment of these laws, we can confidently say of every event that happens, that it was contemplated and in- tended in the providence of God. Almost all the mistakes into which mankind have fallen, in regard to the interpretation ot providence, have arisen from not carrying out this principle thorowghly. There are persons who willingly ascribe certain events to God, but hand over others to chance. Now there are senses in which we may allowably use the word chance ; this we shall show forthwith. But in respect of production and purpose, there is, there can be, no such thing as chance. In this sense the word is simply expressive of our ignorance. An accidental event is one of which we may n/3t be able to discover the cause or the purpose. But while man cannot discover the precise cause, yet he knows that there is a cause, and while the design may I'lfi concealed, yet there is most assuredly a purpose contemplated ; and we may rest assured that the cause has been appointed to produce this particular effect, and this effect to serve the specific purpose. The wisdom of God is peculiarly seen in his consti- tuting a large class of events as contingent in the view of man ; but instead of being independent of God, it is specially by these events that he fulfils his own purposes, and becomes truly the governor of his own world. Fleeing to an opposite extreme, there are persons who there fall into precisely the same error. They feel, and talk, and write, as if it was not necessary to discover the presence of God in those events which occur according to a general law. By referring an event to such a law, they feel as if they had placed it out of the special dominion of God. We cannot find language strong enough to express our indignation against those who neglect to see God in his works, because they are done in a re- gular manner. Whatever the parties may profess, their system is real atheism. Nor is our indignation lessened when we find the errors of the infidel countenanced by those who affect to be the defenders of religion. According to the doctrine of parties THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 191 now refeiTed to, God is to be specially seen in those occurrences of which the cause is unknown. Little attention is paid by them to those dealings and dispensations of God, of which the physical cause is obvious. These, it is thought, may be ascribed to nature, or divided between God and nature, and may be allowed to pass away without its being needful seriously to weigh them and improve them. But wherever there is mystery, wherever the instrumental causes are so remote or so compli- cated that they cannot be detected, there^ it is supposed, is the place at which God peculiarly works. We repudiate this dis- tinction as of a most perilous character. "VVe believe that the common events of providence have a physical cause ; but we believe, at the same time, that this circumstance does not ren- der them less the work of God, In some cases the cause is obvious, and in others more recondite ; but in the one class as in the other we are to discover the operation of Deity. Let us ado]>t an opposite principle, and we are landed in the most in- explicable confusion ; and ignorance may, with truth, be repre- sented as the mother of devotion, for our religion must be in proportion to our ignorance. An ignorant man can discover no physical cause of an occurrence, and so he must ascribe it to God ; but another man has detected a producing cause in nature, and so needs to take no notice of a higher power. Ac- cording to this S3'stem, an event is ascribed, in one age to God, and in a more advanced age to nature. It follows that ignorant countries must be the most pious, and that enlightened nations are necessitated to be infidel in proportion to their progi'css in science. Religion, or rather superstition, is not aware how effectually it is j)laying into the hands of atheism by the sanc- tion which it gives to such a principle — a principle which would make man's religion decrease as his knowledge of physical nature is augmented. Yet it is this narrow and superstitious sentiment which produces all that jealousy of the discovery of law, which is still so common among some who profess to be religious. The jealousies which they entertain, and the prin- ciples which they lay down, furnish the infidel \\\i\\ the only plausible arguments which he can use in his attempt to banish God from his works. In dropping the principle for which we are contending, wo fall into errors of all sorts and shapes. Thus there are some 192 METHOD OF INTERPEETINa who distmguish between great events and great men, put i;oJer the special care of God, and common events left to shift for themselves as best they can. But it is a low and unworthy, and, to the mass of mankind, a most uncomfortable view which is given of our common Kuler, when he is spoken of as caring merely for persons and occurrences regarded by the world as great. The majority of men cannot be great men, nor are they called to transact great events — and are they to be compelled to consider themselves as overlooked in the system of providence because high talents or wide spheres of usefulness have not been allotted to them ? Truly it is no consolation to the poor man, tinder his privations, to inform him that he has been overlooked in the care taken of individuals and events regarded as of more importance. It is indeed a mockery of the individual exposed to heavy affliction, to tell him that God regulates all matters of moment, but has thought it unnecessary to make provision for his particular case. The only view which will elevate, cheer, and gladden the great, body of mankind, in all their various difficulties and trials, is that which pictures God as a father who takes charge of all his creatures without exception, and makes provision for each according to his state and circumstances. Discard the principle of God's universal presence in all events, and we fall under the guidance of mere feeling and caprice. Thus the superstitious man sees God only in those events which excite or startle the mind. He discovers Him in the storm, but not in the sunshine ; in the hurricane, but not in the calm ; in the disease which prostrates the body, but not in the health which so long supported it ; in short, in those things, and in those things only, which call forth feelings qf curiosity and wonder, astonishment and fear. The natural recoil from superstition is scepticism ; and when we exclude God from certain portions of his works, the atheist pursues us, and shows that from a like reason we should exclude him from all others. When Diagoras, who was reputed an atheist,* came to Samothrace, some one pointed out to him the votive tablets erected by those who had escaped the perils of the ocean, and thus addressed him : — " Thou who thinkest that the gods neglect human affairs, do you not observe, from so many painted tablets, how many by their vows have testified that they have escaped the power of the tempest, and arrived in safety ia THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE, 193 this harbour ?" " It happens thus," was the reply, — " they erect no tablets who have suffered shipwreck and perished in the sea."* All who would confine the power of God to rnero deliverances from "dangers created by the laws of nature — that is, by the laws of God — expose themselves to similar objections pertinent or impertinent ; nor can scepticism be successfully resisted except by putting the whole of nature under the do- minion of its Governor. No doubt this doctrine of a universal providence may be abused, but it can be abused only by departing from it. There are minds that will fix on certain events, and those of the most trivial nature, and build on them the most unworthy conceptions of the Divine character. But it is against these narrow views that the doctrine of a universal providence, including every par- ticular, provides the most effectual remedy, by calling upon us to extend our view and embrace all particulars. The doctrine which we are now defending condemns alike those who see God only in great events, and those who see l>im only in those that are minute, and demands that we discover him in both, and give to both their due place and importance. " In minds of a puny form," says Isaac Taylor, " whose enthusiasm is commonly mingled with some degree of abject superstition, the doctrine of a particular providence is liable to be degraded by habitual association wath trivial and sordid solicitudes." " The fault in those instances does not consist in an error of opinion, as if even the most trivial events were not, equally with the most consi- derable, under the Divine management ; but it is a perversion and degradation of feeling, which allows the mind to be occu- pied with whatever is frivolous, to the exclusion of whatever is important,"t The events of providence appear to us very much like the letters thrown into a post-bag, and this parcel then sent forth on its destination. The person who carries it, — " Messenger of joy Perhaps to thousands, and of grief to some, To Viim indifferent whether grief or joy," — onward he moves, quite unconcerned as to the nature of the communications he bears, or the effects produced by them. And when we look into that repository, it may seem as if its contents * Cic. De Nat. Deor., iii. 37. f ^'^''- ^^^^- of Enthusiasm. S 194 METHOD OF INTEKPRETINO were in inextricable confusion, and we wonder liow the letters, parcels, money, periodicals, should ever reach their individual destinations. But then every letter has its special address in- scribed upon it — it has the name and residence of the party, and so it shall in due time fall into his hands, and bring its proper intelligence. And what different purposes do these letters fulfil — what varied emotions do they excite ! This declares that friends are in health and prospering — this other is the bearer ot the news of wealth, or of the wealth itself — this third tells ol some crushing disappointment, and quenches long-cherished hopes by the tidings of the utter failure of deep-planned schemes — while this fourth, with sable symbols, announces to the wife that she is a widow, or to the parent that he is childless, or to the child fondly cherished by the mother that he is an orphan. It is a kind of picture of the movements of Providence. What a crowd of events huddled together, and apparently confused, does it carry along with it ! Yery diverse are the objects bound up in that bundle, very varied are the emotions which they are to excite when opened up ; yet how coolly and systematically does the vehicle proceed on its way ! Neither the joy nor the sorrow which it produces causes it to linger an instant in its course. But meanwhile every occurrence, or bundle of occur- rences, is let out at its proper place. Each has a name inscribed upon it, each has a place to which it is addressed. Each, too, has a message to carry, and a purpose to fulfil. Some inspire ■iiope or joy, others raise only fear and sorrow. The events which are. unfolded by the same course of things, and which fall out the same day, bring gladness to one, and land another in deepest distress. On the occurrence of the same event you per- ceive one weeping and another rejoicing. Some of the dispen- sations are observed to propagate prosperity through a whole community. And these others, so black and dismal, and of which so many arrive at the same time, carry, as they are scat- tered, gloom into the abodes of thousands. But amid all this seeming confusion, every separate event has its separate destina- tion. If pestilence has only some one person devoted to it in a city or community, that person it will assuredly find out, and execute the judgment of heaven upon him. If there be a thousand persons allotted to it in a district, it will not allow one of the thousand to escape. If, among the numbers who are THE DIVINE PKOVIDENCE. 195 dying, there be one regarding whom it has no commission to Beize upon him, that individual must remain untouched. *' A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee." It has a commission, and Nvill execute it ; but then it cannot go beyond its commis sion. And in regard to every person to whom the event comes, it has a special end to accomplish ; and it bears a special mes- sage, if he will but read it and attend to it. II. In what CIRCmiSTANCES MAT WE DISCOVER AN INTENDED CONNEXION BETWEEN ONE PART OF God's WORKS AND ANOTHER ? We have said, that in the sense of being causeless or pur- poseless, no event happens by chance. But still there are two legitimate senses in which the word chance may be employed. First, it may be applied to an event of which the mode of pro- duction or the design is undiscoverable by us. Thus understood, many events may be described as accidental : and we have seen that great and beneficent purposes are served by the arrange- ment which admits of such. But there is a second sense, in which we may admit the existence of chance, and it is with this that we have now to do. While all events have a connexion with their immediate physical cause, and also with God as their ultimate author, it does not follow that every event has an intended connexion with every other.* There cannot be such a thing as casual occurrences, but there may be, and often are, such things as casual concurrences. There may be conjunctions of events in respect of time or place, which are purely accidental, and this while the events themselves may all be traced to God. An eclipse of the sun and a devastating ftimine may happen about the same time ; and true religion will teach us to refer both to God, but it does not follow that the two have a con- nexion with each other. It is one thing to declare that every event is connected with God as its author, and quite another to aflSrm that it is designedly related to every other which may be contiguous to it. But are we never at liberty to discover a cor- relation between two events ? It is evident that there are such designed correspondences oi one event to another. The deepest thinkers have been prone • See Mill's Logic, B. iii. c. xvii. This subject will be found farther expli- cated by the author in the work on " Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation." 196 ISrETHOD OF INTERPRETING to dive into these profundities, " In ray opinion," says Davy,^ '■ profound minds are the most likely to think lightly of the resources of human reason, and it is the pert superficial thinker who is generally strongest in every kind of unbelief. The dee]) philosopher sees chains of causes and effects so wonderfully and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last person to decide upon the impossibility of any two series of events being independent of each other ; and in science, so many natural miracles, as it were, have been brought to light, such as the fall of stones from meteors in the atmosphere, the disarming a thunder-cloud, by a metallic point, the production of fire from ice by a metal white as silver, and the referring certain laws of motion of the sea to the moon — that the physical inquirer is seldom disposed to assert confidently on any abstruse subject belonging to the order of natural things, and still less so on those relating to the more mysterious relations of moral events and intellectual natures." But while there is abundant room in the method of Providence for wonderful conjunctions and recurrences intended by God, we must on that very account be the more on our guard against that mystical and speculative spirit which would multiply them without evidence. The intricacy of God's procedure, while it admits of his appointing mysterious connexions between events, also furnishes a field in which human fancy and conjecture will delight to sport. The human spirit has often wandered in the mazes of Divine providence without a pathway to keep it in the right direction, and invented correspondences and analogies which were never thought of by the Creator of the world. The arts of divination, necromancy, and astrology, have betaken themselves to these high and misty regions, whence it has been most difficult to dislodge them. Are there no rules to guide us in determining when a con- i unction is intended, and when it is casual ? The following may at once guide and restrain. First, we may regard the connexion as intended, whenever we can discover a natural tie, that is, a tie in the system of causes and laws which God hath appointed. We say laws as well as causes ; for, from reasons already explained, there may be general laws of nature observed when the causes are utterly * Salmonia. THE DIVINE mOVIDENCE. 197 ivjJruown, All events connected causally, and all events con- nected by an observable invariable law, may be held as joined by the appointment of God. It is by tlie observation of the bonds of union, as we have seen, that the mind acquires its practical foresight and scientific knowledge. There arc such correspondences strewn all around us, that we may observe them and act upon them. Secondly, we may, upon satisfactory evidence, believe in such conjunctions as intended, when we discover a moral tie. We hold the moral law to be as much, to say the least of it, the appointment of God as any natural law. As there are har- monies pre-established between one natural law and another, so there may be, so there are, harmonies between the moral law and the physical laws. God has so ordered his physical govern- ment, that it is made in various ways to support his moral government, both in the way of encouraging that wliicli is good and beneficent, and arresting and punishing that which is evil. Now, whenever we can discover such a moral tie, we may, always in the exercise of common sense and a sound judgment, believe in intended coincidences when supported by a sufficient induc- tion of facts. Thirdly, we may, on the same terms, believe in such corre- spondences when we can discover a religious tie. For just as we hold man to be a physical and a moral, so we also hold him to be a religious agent. And as there are connexions between the physical and the physical, and between the physical and the moral, so there may also be connexions between the physical and the religious. As the physical government of God is so arranged as to uphold the moral ends of God, it may be also so arranged as to provide an answer to prayer, to order the destinies of the pioua in all faithfulness and love, and to help on tlie true religion in its progress towards universality. The heaving of the waves, in coiTCppondence with the motions of the moon, is not more cei-tain than the raofements of earthly events in correspondence with heavenly influences. He who faithfully follows out these principles, shall be kept by them, on the one hand, from that spirit of ungodliness which fails to detect the presence and purposes of God in the dispensa- tions of his providence, and on the other hand, from tliat spirit of uncharitable partisanship, which would call down fire from 198 METHOD OF INTEKPRETING heaven upon every supposed offender. If, for example, some form of pestilence, such as cholera, visits a district, they will lead us first to see the hand of God in it, and secondly, to inquire whether it "may not have been a relation to some particular evil in the community ; and as we discover how it falls most severely upon the intemperate, and those who consort in the haunts of pollution, they will conduct us to the conclusion, that it is specially directed against the social evils among us, and that it is allowed to travel beyond its particular walk, and to attack the comfortable and the wealthy, in order to shew them that they are so far responsible for the moral diseases in the midst of them, and that the flames must spread if they are not extinguished. Or suppose that disease has entered our own dwelling, these same principles will lead us, as in the previous case, first to see God in the occurrence, and then to inquire what reference it can have to our moral and religious state. In directing us to such practi- cal inquiries, they will save us from a vast amount of loose speculations and profitless applications, which go out in un- charitable references towards others, and come back with no lessons of humility to ourselves. Guided by these principles, and guarded by sound sense, the inquiring mind will discover designed combinations, many and wonderful, between the various events of Divine providence. Eead in the spirit of faith, striking relations will everywhere manifest themselves. What singular unions of two streams at the proper place to help on the exertions of the great and good ! What curious intersections of cords to catch the wicked as in a net, when they are prowling as wild beasts ! By strange but most apposite correspondences, human strength, when set against the will of God, is made to waste away under his indignation burning against it, as, in heathen story, Meleager wasted away as the stick burned which his mother held in the fire. A con- sistency not visible at first sight may thus be traced throughout the whole scheme of God's providence. When the eye is made to run over years and ages, it will discover a track running along the whole territory, now disappearing, but again clearly marked ; a stream meandering and sometimes hiding itself, and seemingly lost, yet, like Arethusa, appearing again, and holding on its way to the place to which it has to bear its waters. There will be seen a line of transmission from age to age, and events are THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 199 explained by other events separated from them by a thousand removes. Looked at in a narrow and prying and jealous spirit, every individual part may seem to be mere twisted and inter- twined threads, yet eventually out of the whole is formed a web of varied but beauteous and harmonious texture. So fir as tlie connexions are natural, we have already contem- plated them, and so far as they are moral and religious, they will yet come under our notice. Meanwhile, it may be needful, in the way of caution, to show how these general rules, in guid- ing us to combinations which are real, will keep us from trust- ing in others which are visionary. Of this latter description are omens, charms, incantations, the spells that are used in witch- craft and necromancy, and the supposed relations of events which give rise to divination and astrology. The more mysterious chemical agents, it is thought, may be used in an inexplicable way for inflicting or preventing direful evils. Dreams, the shape of the clouds, the flight of birds — and especially of certain birds, as the eagle and the raven, the pecking of chickens, the state of a brute's entrails, the rolling of thunder, the movements of the planets, the very ravings of maniacs, and the neighing of horses, have all been regarded as prognostics of future events. " The Egyptians and Babylonians, dwelling in plains, drew foreknow- ledge from the mystic dances of the stars. The Etruscans, addicted to the frequent offering of sacrifices, derived it from the inspection of the entrails of animals, and from the prodigies in the heavens and earth which fell frequently under their notice owing to the nature of their climate and country. The pastoral Arabians, Phrygians, and Cilicians, wandering over their plains and mountains, sought to pierce futurity by the observation of the flight and music of birds."* Our Saxon forefathers " trusted in their magical incantations for the cure of disease, for the success of their tillage, for the discovery of lost property, for uncharming cattle, and the prevention of casualties. One day was useful for all things; another, though good to tame animals, was baleful to sow seeds. One day was favourable to the com- mencement of business, another to let blood, and others wore a forbidding aspect to these and other things. On this day thev ■were to buy, on a second to sell, on a third to hunt, on a fourth to do nothing. If a child was bom on such a day, it woull * Cic. De Divin., Lib. i. 93, 94. 200 METHOD OF INTERPRETING live ; if on another, its life would be sickly ; if on another, it v.'oiild perish early."* It may be observed, first of all, in reference to the supersti- tious trust in such connexions, that it is not the legitimate follow- ing out of the doctrine of a particular providence. According to that doctrine, God is to be seen in every event; but, in the superstitious trust referred to, it is assumed, farther, that certain events are combined in a mysterious manner. We may believe in the connexion of every event with God as its author ; while we do not believe, but rather positively deny, that events no way causally, or morally, or religiously connected, have yet an inexplicable association, supposed to be the means of widening the sphere of man's knowledge, but in reality the means of per- plexing and confounding him. There is no impossibility involved in the Stoic idea, that, according to the constitution of things, certain signs should precede certain occurrences.f We do not deny the possibility of God establishing such a harmony between things that have no visible relation ; but we deny, as a matter of fact, that He has instituted such a correspondence. The burden of proof lies on those who maintain the positive doctrine ; and the evidence furnished is as visionary as are the fancies of those who dwell in this region of dreams. A few casual coinci- dences, eagerly seized upon by an excited temper, are no proof of a connexion, causal or contemplated. Nor do we find much difficulty in explaining the mystic or superstitious belief referred to, and that without supposing that it has evidence to build on. It lives in the regions of mists and clouds, where fancy may weave her shapes to suit her humours, and where excited feeling will form every half-seen object into ghosts and spectres. We can readily enter into some of the feelings which lead men to betake themselves to oracles and auguries. Every one must at times have felt an intense desire to get a glimpse of the objects I'ehind that veil, which, hanging immediately before us, ever hides futurity from the view. The man is about to take a step which may exercise a momentous power over his future destiny ; he is setting out on an important journey, or commencing a great undertaking ; he is a husbandman, and about to sow the cro])S which are to be his sustenance ; or he is a king, invited to enter * Turner's Anglo-Saxons, B. \l\. c. VS. t See Cic. De Divin., Lib. i. 118, where this view is expounded. THE DIVINE mOVIDENCE. 201 into a truce, or declare war ; or a soldier, about to buckle on his armour ; — or he has arrived at a crisis in his own affairs, or in those of the society with v/hich he is connected ; he has long been pursuing some favourite plans, which are expected speedil}'- to bring important results ; he is on the eve of great events, for evil or for good ; he is on a bed of distress, and sees death looking in at tliC curtiiins ; — and the wish of his heart is, that there were but some means of looking into that dim futurity, of deciding liis hesitating judgment, and putting an end to this intensely painful suspense. At such times the mind will catch at every fact or f mcy that may seem fitted to relieve its perplexities. Is there no gifted man who sees farther than others into the coming hour which is so portentous ? Are there no appointed connexions by which the future may be seen in the present or the past ? Can no horoscope be constructed by which these mystic movements of the planets may be made to reveal the movements of advancing earthly events ? Will no voice issue from some hallowed grove or shrine ? Will no whisper of these breezes, no form in these mists or clouds, no vision of supernatural being, be vouchsafed to guide us in these perplexities, or, at least, to put an end to this uncertainty, more excruciating than the most dreadful reality ? From feelings that have been at work in our own breast, we can in some measure understand the intensity of passion which led Brutus to see the vision before the battle of Philippi ; which brouglit Saul, before engaging in his last battle, to the witch of Endor, to call up his faithful monitor, Samuel; and which in- duced a king of Israel, who had suffered what seemed to be a fatal injury by a fall, to send messengers to the flimous temple at Ekron. Without at all supposing that heaven lends its sanction to such frivolities, we can understand how persons should be led, at times of excited feeling, whether of fear or expectation, to have recourse to those dreams, mysteries, and casualties, which furnish the materials of all the omens or charms which superstition and knavery employ. Left without sufficient evidence to support them, w^e are led by the whole analogy of the Divine procedure, to reject them. There is far too much of high dignity and solemn majesty in the march of Providence to admit of its stooping down to construct these coincidences of petty ingenuity, worthy only of a mystic, a magician, or a boy poet. While such dim and distant corre- 202 METHOD OF INTERPEETING spondences could confer no real benefit, they would ever tempt the mind to waste its strength, mounted on an unbridled fancy, bearing its rider whithersoever it would. So far as mankind can- not discover the future by the use of their faculties, in observ- ing the ordinary proceedings of Providence, it were vastly better, for their peace, their moral discipline, and improvement, that the cloud should continue to rest upon it. The wisdom of God is seen as much in what he hath concealed as in what he hath revealed. " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing." It is, therefore, safest, and in every way best, to keep to the rules which we have laid down, and to insist on a natural, a moral, or a religious law connecting the events that are supposed to be coincident ; and if no such law can be pointed out, to look on the relation as possibly casual. Herein lies the distinction between religion on the one hand, and superstition on the other, in respect of the view which they take of Providence ; — ■ that whereas the former traces up every occurrence to God, and is prepared to acknowledge that there is a relation between one event and another, only when there is evidence that God hath instituted bonds of union between them, the latter is ever look- ing out for capricious combinations and conspiracies of circum- stances, and is transferring to them a feeling of joy or of fear, which ought as a sentiment of trust and reverential awe to be reserved for God. The superstitious man is not so anxious to secure the favour of God as certain auspicious signs and prognostications, and is not so afraid of giving offence to the Divine law, as of certain ominous seasons and conjunctures. The light of science, which investigates natural law, has already put to flight many of these birds of night which disappear in the morning. A rigid attention to moral and religious law should drive away the remainder, to leave us to contemplate, with less distraction, the real mysteries of God's providence, em- ployed in the support of his moral and religious government. III. When may we regard ourselves as entitled to fix on THE precise end CONTEMPLATED BY GOD IN ANY GIVEN EVENT ? We may safely affirm, in reference to this question, that God Intends to produce, by the event, the consequences that flow from it according to the natural ordinances of his providence. He undoubtedly means the cause to produce its effects, and the train of causes to be followed by its train of consequences. THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE, 203 But may he not intend also to serve other ends, not following so naturally or necessarily ? Most assuredly he may. But it is more difficult for us to determine specially, and in any given case, what these ends are. Some persons decide on this subject as dogmatically as if they had been the counsellors of Deity, or let into all the secrets of his government. There is one in- quiry, however, which we should always make, and that is, What are the lessons which we may gather for our own personal instruction ? In making this inquiry in an humble spirit, we may, if guided by a pure moral law and a true religion, gather daily lessons from the dispensations of Providence. In doing so, it is not needful to determine the precise ends of Deity. Our primary anxiety should be to determine what are the lessons which we should learn ; and if we are enabled to gather them, we may safely conclude, that this was one of the special ends contemplated in the wisdom of heaven. If it be needful to go farther, we must ever take along with us the rules previously laid down. We may always connect events together which have a physical connexion ; and in regard to other connexions, we must be quite sure that they are linked by the moral or re- ligious laws of God. The Avinds that sunk the Spanish Aimada, •which threatened at once the Protestant religion and the liberties of England ; and, again, the favourable breezes which enabled William of Orange, when these privileges were endangered, to escape the fleet that was ready to seize him, and land in safety on our shores:* these are providential occurrences, in which pious minds have ever delighted to discover the hand of God • and this, too, with reason, according to the principles which we * Mr. Macaulay says, " The weather had, indeed, served the Protestant cause BO well, that some men, of more piety than judgment, believed the ordinary laws of nature to have been suspended for the preservation of the liberty and religion of England. Exactly a hundred years before this, they said the Armada, invincible by man, had been scattered by the wrath of God. Civil freedom and divine truth were again in jeopardy, and again the obedient elements had fought for the good cause. The wind had blown strong from the east, while the Prince wished to sail down the Channel ; had turned to the south when he wished to enter Torbay ; had sunk to a calm during the disembarkation ; and as soon as the disembarkation was completed, had risen to a storm, and had met the pursuers in the face." Iliit. of Enrjland, vol. ii. We have quoted this language for the purpose of express- ing our astonishment, that a mind so expanded as Mr. Macaulay's should not have Been that, instead of requiring to suspend his laws, God might have arranged them with the very view of bringing about these beneficent results. 204 METHOD OF INTERPRETING have been developing, Nor can we regard as less striking, those internal dissensions which drove the pilgrim Fathers from Eng- land, to found in the far west a country which should acknow- ledge its inferiority to England only in this respect, that the one is the mother, and the other the daughter. Histor}^, rightly interpreted, shows us many instances of national crime being followed by its appropriate punishment. " The expulsion of the Moors, the most industrious and valuable inhabitants of the Peninsula, has entailed weakness upon the Spanish monarchy, which the subsequent lapse of two centuries has been unable to repair. The reaction against the Eoman atrocities produced the great league, of which William was the head ; it sharpened the swords of Eugene and Marlborough ; it closed in mourning the reign of Louis XV. Nor did the national punishment stop here. The massacre of St. Bartholomew, and revocation of the edict of Nantes, were the chief, among remote but certain, causes of the French Ke volution, and all the unutterable miseries which it brought upon the Bourbon race, and the professors of the Eomish faith."* Mankind have in all ages experienced the greatest interest, and yet the greatest difficulty, in interpreting those events of providence which are afflictive in their character. f We have not arrived at that stage of our investigation at which we may determine precisely the meaning of physical evil ; but it is evident that the ends served by it in the providence of God are of a mixed character. Sometimes it seems to be punitive, and the expression of the Divine disapproval of sin. We can take no lower or lesser view of it in some of its forms. At other times it seems to be preventive of evil. There are dark tunnels through which we must pass to speed us on our way ; and there are also circuitous routes prescribed to preserve us from the danger lying in the shorter path. In every shape in which it may come, affliction is disagreeable at the time, but it is, notwithstanding, often like the mantle of snow, which in these colder regions covers the springing grain in winter — a means of preservation from a greater and more fatal scourge. * Alison's Marlborough. \ See this whole subjeet treated in the light of Scripture, and with the results without the processes of the highest philosophy, in the two admirable works oi Dr. Buchanan on Affliction. THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 205 Not unfreqnently it is purifyinq in its nature. It is in the furnace that the dross is separated. Now, it is often difficult to determine, as to any given afflic- tion, wlicther it is meant to accomplish the one or the other of these purposes, or whether it may not be subservient to them all. Here, as in regard to every dispensation, we are on safe ground, when, in the first instance, we observe God in every event ; and when, in the second place, we inquire what are the lessons which it is fitted to read us. This should be the habit of every soul which is waiting with becoming obeisance upon the teaching of its Creator. When we make the farther inquiry. What is the end contemplated by God, in ordaining this event or that event ? difficulties thicken around us. One answer we should always be ready to give, and that is, that the human mind cannot discover all the purposes wdiich may be intended by any of the operations of God. For he accomplishes a variety of ends by the same means ; and it would be presumptuous in us to conclude that vre had discovered all the objects contem- plated in any one of his dispensations. One salutary reflection will rise in every thinking mind on the survey of affliction under all its various forms — that it is a blessed thing that God has kept such agency in his oAvn hand, instead of committing it to man ; for trials, like powerful medicines, need to be dispensed in proper quantities and by a careful hand, lest there be one drop too little or too much. Great caution must at all times be exercised in deciding upon what are supposed to be the judgments of heaven. The Great Teacher, w^ho has given us such enlarged and comforting views of the Divine guardianship, is careful to warn us against the influence of prejudice and passion in the interpretation of the proceedings of God towards our fellow-men. " Suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered such things ? I tell you, Nay ; but, except ye re- pent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, on whom the tower of Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem ? I tell you. Nay ; but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." The error of the Jews manifestly consisted in yielding to an unchari- table temper of mind. The same error, proceeding from the same spirit, is still exhibited. If an individual has always been 206 METHOD OF INTERPRETING suspected of some secret crime, an extraordinary reverse of for- tune is thought sufficient to establish it. If great and apparently lasting prosperity is suddenly changed into unexpected adversity, it is thought to be in righteous retribution for some act of fraud or dishonesty ; and men begin to search for cases in which he defrauded the orphan, or overreached the simple, or gratified his own selfishness at the expense of the public good. It is not at the time when prosperity is disposed to smile on the individual, that these insinuations are made and pass current : at these moments, men have not the courage boldly to face the culprit and denounce the crime ; but, like cowards, they wait till he has been laid prostrate by the hand of another ; they only per- secute those whom the Lord has already smitten, and hasten to add reproach to misery, and insult to suffering. But still, we may in some cases confidently discover the judg- ments of God. There are certain physical evils which proceed directly from sin — as the poverty which follows extravagance, and the disease which springs from intemperance and other vices ; and we are only refening the effect to its cause when we connect the two together. In other cases, also, the connexion, being always of a moral or religious character, may be so visible as at once to compel every man to discover the overruling ar- rangements of heaven, in making physical events encourage the good or punish the evil. But, in all such cases, both fects must be ascertained, and each on its own independent evidence, before the relation can be discovered. We must not conclude that any given deed is sinful, merely because it has been followed by certain prejudicial consequences. But when the deed is proved to be sinful on other evidence, we may connect the two together, for it looks as if God had connected them. We are not to con- clude that any individual has been guilty of secret or highly aggravated sin, merely because he has been exposed to affliction. This was the error of the friends of Job, and for which they were severely reprimanded. But when he is known, on indepen- dent evidence, to have sinned, we are warranted, whether the sin be physically connected with the suffering or no, in tracing a connexion appointed by God himself It is comparatively seldom that we have such a minute ac- quaintance with every incident in the past life of a neighbour, as to be able to determine the precise end contemplated in any THE DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 207 visitation of God towards hira. In some cases, indeed, the con- nexion is manifest to the man's neighbours, or to the world at large ; as when intemperance and excess lead to poverty and disease, and cunning raises up to distrust, and is caught in the net which it laid for others. In other cases, it is visible only to the individual himself, or his most intimate friends. In all cases, it is easier to determine the meaning of the judgments of God in reference to ourselves, than in their reference to others, when they are exposed to them. For being acquainted with all the incidents of our past life, we may trace a connexion between deeds which we have done, and trials sent upon us — a connexion which no other is intended to seek, or so much as to suspect. Wliile afl3iction can in no case prove the existence of sin not otherwise established, yet it may be the means of leading the person afflicted to inquire whether he may not in his past life have committed some sin, of which this is the pimishment or cure. Here, as in many other cases, the rule is to be strict in judging ourselves, but slow in judging others. SECT. V. — PRACTICAL INFLUENCE OF THE VARIOUS VIEWS WHICH MAY BE TAKEN OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE. An ancient heathen philosopher and historian has drawn an ingenious comparison between atheism and superstition.* With the additional light which we now enjoy, we find it needful to multiply the objects compared, and we may be enabled to form a juster estimate of each. Some see Grod in none of his works. This is the error of a mind besotted by passion, or stung by an evil conscience, or which has lost itself in the mazes of proud and rash speculation. It IS Atheism. If it could be cured by reason, we have abund- ant evidence to present to it. But atheism is a crime, rather than a mere intellectual error. It is to be cured only by its being so humbled as to be constrained to attend to the traces of an intelligent mind, which the Creator has imprinted on all his works around us, and of a Governor and Judge imprinted on the heart within. Again, there are some, and their number is multiplying with advancing science, who cannot but see prevailing order in the * Plutarch on Superstition. 208 INFLUENCE OF VARIOUS VIEWS works of God, and are prepared to appreciate tlieir beauty, but who have a difficulty in distinguishing between them and the Creator. Observing a universal harmony, they can rise to no higher conception of deity than as a principle of order inhabit- ing the universe, but not to be distinguished from it. It is Pantheism. It is the error of a mind delighting to reflect on order and law, but with no adequate conception of the moral and the spiritual. It overlooks the conscious personality within us which declares that we are distinct from the universe, distinct from God, and that therefore God is not all ; and it sets aside that feeling of free-will and responsibility, which announces that we must give account of our conduct to another, and that there- fore all is not God. Were it disposed to leave its own idle phantasies and to follow us, we would show that it is in error, by pointing to the traces of a ruling as well as an inherent principle, of a governor as well as a pervader of the universe ; we would point to the skilful adjustment of the laws of nature, which, as distinguished from the laws of nature themselves, is specially called the Providence of God, and which gives evidence of a power in nature, but which is also above nature, acting upon it, without being acted upon in return. Farther, there are those who perceive God only in certain of his works, in the more striking agents of nature, and the more startling events of his providence, in the lightning's flash and the meteor's glare, in all unexpected occurrences, in sudden eleva- tions or reverses of fortune, in pestilence, disease, and death, but not in the calmer but no less powerful and wonderful agents ever in operation — the sunshine, the revolving seasons, the continued enjoyment of health, and the munificent provision made for the sustenance of man, and the supply of his varied wants. God is seen by them, but not in all his works — in those only which awe the imagination, which excite the fancy, or which move the passions of the heart. It is Superstition. It springs from a conscience awakened, but not pacified, in a mind under fear, but yet without faith. If its restlessness would allow it calmly to consider any subject, we would widen its range of view so as to make it embrace all that is benign and peaceful, all that is orderly and benevolent in the works of God. We would make it view the earth when it is bathed in loveliness in the calm of a summer evening, afe well as when it is agitated by storm ; and WHICH MAY BE TAKEN OF PROVIDENCE. 209 look on the heavens, not only when covered with angry clouds, but when their face is serene in the softest blue, or shining in brilliancy in the light of the thousand lamjis which they nightly kindle. Finally, there are those who discover reigning design in all God's works, and so are opposed to Atheism ; who notice evi- dence of a power separate from and above nature, a pure and benevolent God, and so have extricated themselves from the toils of Pantheism ; who observe a present God in the more striking agents which he employs, but who trace him, too, in those daily gifts which are not less beneficent because they are constantly bestowed, and in those regular arrangements of Providence, which are not less wonderful because they may have become familiar to us. It is a sound and enlightened faith. It keeps the mind in a vigorous and healthy state. The atmosphere of which it breathes is at once strengthening and refreshing — unlike that air, all azote, of which the Atheist breathes till every living affection is chilled into death ; or that air, so close and sultry, in which the Pantheist wastes a dreamy and useless existence ; or that air, now so highly oxygenated, and now so exhausted of the principle of life, so elevating and depressing by turns, in which the victim of superstition passes a life of restlessness and fever. The atheist closes his eyelids, and asserts that there is no God, because he will not open his eyes to behold the traces of him. The philosophical and poetical pantheist, the worshipper of nature, opens his eyes only half-way ; and, amidst the many lovely " dreams that wave before the half-shut eye,'"' he refuses to gaze upon the still lovelier but more dazzling image of a holy God. The VICTIM of superstition opens and shuts his eyes by turns — opens them when there is anything to alarm or please, but shuts them against all that might enlighten the reason, or mould the character after the likeness of Divine perfection. True faith opens the eyes, and keeps them fully directed upon the glorious works of nature, and wonderful events of provi- dence, till they rise, in glowing admiration, to the perception of a light ever shining, with unchanged and unchangeable lustre, upon a universe rejoicing in its beams ; and they continue to gaze, till, " dazzled by excess of light," they shut themselves in holy meditation and devout adoration. Atheism is a system colJ, and damp, and dark, as the place o 210 INFLUENCE OF THE VARIOUS VIEWS of the dead. Pantheism shows us a beautiful mansion — but the sight is melancholy ; we have no desire to enter the build- ing, for it is without an inhabitant ; there is no warm heart to beat, no just mind to rule, in these large but tenantless halls. It gives us illusions which " serve to alleviate nothing, to solve nothing, to illuminate nothing ; they are vapours which may, indeed, show bright and gaudy colours when seen at a great distance, but in the bosom of which, if one enters, there is nothing but chill and gloom."* Superstition shows a strange land — such as the eye pictures in the twilight, when objects are imperfectly seen — with scenes ever shifting with the capricious temper of those who rule over them without grace and without dignity, who are now sportive and now revengeful, but never Jusfand never benevolent, while those subjected to their power alternate between wild merriment and excruciating misery. True faith opens our eyes on a world on which, no doubt, there rests a mysterious cloud, rising from the damps of sin, but above wliich, shining with bright and steady beams, there is a luminary before which that cloud mnst at last fade away and disappear, and leave a land of perpetual calm and never-failing light. The atheist is bold and arrogant, but it is with the audacity of a man who is contending with an inward principle. Plutarch is wrong in saying that he is free from all fear and perturbations of mind. You may observe that he is awe-struck at the void which he hath made, and that he starts at the sounds which he strikes up to relieve the sepulchral silence. If he fears not God, he fears the next event, dark and horrid, which blind fate may evolve. He boasts that he is above the fear of punishment ; but he may be oppressed by a dread of pain, and he knows of no comforter to cheer him under it. The pantheist wanders in a lovely region, but he meets there with no friend to cheer, to sympathize with, to support, to comfort him. He talks of com- munion with nature, or the spirit of nature; but his idea is ever evaporating and vanishing into nothing; and the real thought is ever ])regsed upon him, that the whole is an illusion ; for there is no living being to feel responsive to his feelings, and his soul saddens under a sense of utter loneliness. He feels like a man shut ui) in an abode of surpassing magnificence, but without a * North Britisli Review, 1846, No. I., John Foster. WHICH MAY BE TAKEN OF PROVIDENCE. 211 fripnd to whom he can unbosom himself; — he is worse than Rasselas in his Happy Valley. He perceives that all is regular and harmonious, but still there is something wanting ; he is alone, and "it is not good for man to be alone," in respect eitlier of the creature or the Creator. Such is his feeling, even when nature wears a smiling aspect, and events are prosperous ; and when the heavens lower, and affliction casts its shadow over his path, and all things in this lower world seem dark, and dreary, and sullen, his melancholy is soured into discontent, and irritated into murmuring and complaint. He complains, and no one answers, and his spirit is chafed by its own chidings. Ever friendless, he feels now what it is to be friendless in the hour of trial. The superstitious man has his moments of high ecstasies and ethereal pleasure, of convulsive action and feverish joy, but succeeded, ever and anon, by periods of exhaustion and weakness, of distaste to and incapacity for exertion. After his strength has spent itself, he feels, in the ethereal atmosphere of which he breathes, like those travellers who ascend the Alps or Andes ; and who, when they reach a certain elevation, experience a qnicknessof breathing, an acceleration of pulse, a loss of appetite, and nausea, which issue in a complete prostration of strength, and irresistible somnolency. His very rest is like that produced by opiate drugs — he awakes from it in startling alarms, and with darker forebodings. With occasional joy, he is yet without peace ; harassed by fear, he is without genuine trust and con- fidence ; scared by expected punishment, he is never allured by deep and fervent lo\e. It is an habitual faith, looking to the living and loving God, which alone is fitted to impart cheerful- ness to the soul at all times, and consolation in the seasons of trouble and of death. The atheist is rash in his actions, dark in his passions, is apt to be proud in prosperity, and comfortless in afiliction; and when wearied of life, he vainly attempts to terminate his existence by an act which may indeed kill the body, but leaves the soul to be tormented by its passions, more furiously than ever — by scor- pions instead of whips. The pantheist professes to follow nature, and, making no struggle to rise above it, he is carried along with the stream ; and feeling himself to be a mere bubble upon its surflxce, he becomes a vain and empty trifler. He is probably an idle dreamer, or a sipper of the sweets of literature, an indulge! 212 INFLUENCE OF THE VARIOUS VIEWS in fine sentiment, or a wild sjDeculatist ; and, with no great end before him, he fails in accomplishing any work that may pro- mote the welfare of the race. The superstitious man vacillates between hot and cold, between hope and fear, between self- confidence and despondency. He is afraid to act, lest ofience ha given to the God he fears ; and afraid not to act, for the same leason. He is ever restless, but his activity may be as frequently exercised in spreading misery as in propagating good. It is FAITH in a living God, the Governor of nature, which calls forth the energies of heaven-born souls, which sets them forth in the work of relieving misery, uprooting corruption, stemming the tide of depravity, and helping on the amelioration of the race in knowledge and virtue. It is curious to observe how extremes meet, just as we fi^nd the farthest east and west meeting in the figures constructed on our globes. Atheism and pantheism may seem to be utterly opposed, and yet they agree in more than they difier. The pantheist, when compelled to explain himself, is landed in athe- ism; while atheism, seeking to screen its nakedness, would fondly clothe itself in some of the illusions of pantheism. The regular laws, and the mechanical successions which the one recognises, do not difier essentially from the principles of order and develop- ment, of which the other delights to discourse so profoundly, and yet withal so unmeaningly. The ideas of which the one dreams are as difficult to grasp as the blank void which the other creates. It has often been observed that superstition, in the natural recoil of the human mind, leads to atheism. "Superstition," says Plutarch, " both led to the production of atheism, and when it was gendered, furnished an apology — not, indeed, just and fair, but still not devoid of plausibility — for its continuance. For it is not because persons see anything blameworthy in the heavens, or faulty and irregular in the stars, in the seasons, in the revolu- tions and motions of the sun around the earth which are the cause of day and night, in the nourishment provided for living creatures, or in the production of fruits, that they concluded that there is no God in the universe ; but the ridiculous works and manifestations of superstition — its spell-words, its movements, its juggleries, its charms, its circumambulations, its drummings, its impure purgations, its filthy acts of supposed chastitj^, its barbarous and unlawful inflictions of punishment and affronts WHICH MAT BE TAKEN OF PROVIDENCE. 213 close b)' temples — all these give occasion to some to say tliat it were better there were no gods, than that there were gods who accept of and delight in these things — so tyrannical, so impera- tive in, and so easily offended by, trifles/'* But Plutarch is mistaken, when in the same passage he tells us that atheism is on no occasion the cause of superstition ; for atheism, by a recoil equtdly natural, issues in superstition. The wisest men would, with Bacon, rather believe all the ftibles of the Koran, than be driven to the conchision that this universe is without a Creator and Governor. When the mind feels that scepticism hath left it nothing to stand on, it will take refuge in the first superstition which offers itself. It thus happens, that while the two may scgn to be opposed in their very nature, they yet produce and assist each other ; and there are individuals and nations ever vacillating between the two — now betaking themselves to the one, and now to the other, and ever swinging like a pendulum past the point of rest. None of these can present an acceptable service to God. The pantheist ])rofesses to see God in everything, but in reality sees liini in nothing. He talks of the communion which he holds with the spirit of the universe, but it is a mere communion with his own thoughts. He believes just as little as the atheist in a living deity — in a ruliftg power, in a moral governor, a holy sovereign, or a rigliteous judge. Nor can God be pleased with the perverted adoration which superstition offers. Its worship has always been a strange mixture of horror and of levity — of laceration and licentiousness. The very idea entertained of God is an affront offered to him. " What sayest thou ? Is he impious who thinks tliat there are no gods ?" asks Plutarch; "and he who believes them to be such as the superstitious man describes them, not much more impious ? For myself, I would rather that men should say regarding me that there was no such person as Plutarch, than that tliey should say that Plutarch was a person unsteady, changeable, prone to passion, exacting revenge for in- advertences, offended with trifles." When the faith is not a ftiith in a living God, it will produce no living affection. When no love is supposed to reside in the Divine mind, no love to him will be kindled in our bosoms ; and tliere will be none of that cheerful obedience which proceeds from * Plutarch on Superstition, 12. 214 INFLIJENCE OF THE VARIOUS VIEWS afFection. The heart of the atheist becomes as blank as his Bystem ; and the service of the pantheist has as little emotion as the supposed principle which governs the universe. It is curious, too, to observe how superstition lands us practically in the same consequences as the atheism and the pantheism which it so much abhors. The mind which discovers God only so far as its feelings are moved and its fears awakened, will feel itself beyond restraint when there is no such excitement. Hence the abject and craveii superstition, which prompts to trembling and despair when the man feels himself to be in circumstances of terror, is quite com- patible with the most unbridled indulgence and unblushing criminality, when the mind is freed from the pressure of alarm. He who sees God only at certain times, and in certain places^ as in temples and groves, will feel as if he were beyond his cogniz- ance and control in all other positions. Hence we find the earnest (we cannot say spiritual) worshipper at the altar cheating in the market-place, and indulging the basest propensities of his nature, when he thinks himself under the clouds of concealment. Borrow is not relating anything contrary to human nature, when he tells us of the gipsy, mother who said to her children, " You may go and steal, now that you have said your prayers." Whatever these systems may differ in, they all agree in this, lliat they are not fitted to lay an effectual restraint on pride, on lust, on passion, and the other evil principles of the human heart. The atheist glories in the circumstance that he is unrestrained : it is one of the supposed advantages of his system. Not that he thereby attains to greater freedom ; for the pride which he has called in acts as the Saxons did, when the ancient Britons invited them to their assistance against their northern neighbours — it proves a sterner master than the power from which he wished to be delivered. Nor will the cobwebs which the dreamy pantheist weaves be able to restrain the rising passion. This smoke can- not be made to face the wind. Nay, the pleasure and lust by which he is tempted will not experience much difiiculty in in- ducing the loose and accommodating system to weave them into their laws and principles ; and evil will be allowed, as a step necessary to the accomplishment of what is good. As to practical influence, the mystic faith of the pantheist differs from the absolute unbelief of the atheist, as the vapours which the waters exhale, and the moon tinges with her beams, differ from nonentity. Nor WHICH MAY BE TAKEN OF PROVIDENCE. 215 will the irregular impulses of superstition be able to stem the ever-flowing torrent. With a variety of impelling, but no regu- lating i)rinciples, he is driven to or from his religious offices, to or from his favourite indulgences, according to the direction of the current which happens to prevail at the time. Still less can these systems quicken, refine, and spiritualize the soul, impart to it a steady cheerfulness, or become an ever- flowing source of comfort. Such effects cannot follow from a scheme which gives no God, or a God without moral qualities, or a God supposed to be capricious. These effects can flow only from belief in a God, the governor and judge of all, ever re- straining and punishing, as he ever hates sin, and yet withal as loving and merciful as he is just and holy. S"^CT. VI. — METHOD OF ANSWERING PRAYER, AND FURTHERING SPIRITUAL ENDS. Prayer is about the most elevated state of thought and feeling of which the mind is susceptible, reaching higher than the miaghiatiou of the poet when his eye is most excited, and his fancy takes its wildest flights ; embracing more than the capa- cious thoughts of the philosopher, at the time when he has got the glimpse of some bright discovery just circling, like the sun, above the horizon, and tlu'owing a flood of light on objects before wrapt in twilight obscurity. Can our understandings comprehend anything more enlarged than an omnipresent God ? Can our wisdom be more profoundly occupied than in fathom- ing the depths of the Divine counsels ? Can our imaginations mount higher than those third heavens in which the Divinity sits enthroned ? Can our faith and love repose anywhere more securely or delightfully than on the word and faithfulness of God ? How can the whole soul be so nobly or profitably em- ployed as in holding communion with its Maker ? There is no aflcction of the mind which is not engaged in prayer, except it be the baser and the more depraved ones of our nature. Here is reverential awe strlpt of all the baseness of mere fear ; here is hope, not the mere hope of earthly bliss, but of the favour of God, which, when enjoyed, is the fullest bliss. Here is faith, feeling itself firm and immovable in that being on whom it rests ; and here is love, kindled at the sight of everlasting love. 216 METHOD OF ANSWERING PRAYER, True prayer quickens the soul without agitating it ; as the river is most interesting when there is a ripple upon its surface to show that it is moving ; as the sky is most beautiful when there is enough of breeze to clear away the mists and damps that have been exhaled from the earth, but no storm to disturb its serenity. Prayer, when engaged in, in spirit and in truth, free from pride and the troublings of the passions, contains within itself its own answer, in the heavenly calm and repose which it com- municates. Like every other good act, it is its own reward. When thus spread out before God, heaven itself seems to descend upon the soul, as we have seen the sky reflected on the bosom of a tranquil lake spread out beneath it. He who cultivates a devotional spirit is like the earth in its orbit, guided by a central power, and illuminated by a central light, and carrying every- where a circumambient atmosphere, with a life-giving and. refreshing influence. Some one illustrates the power of prayer by the case of a man in a small boat laying hold of a large ship ; and who, if he does not seem to move the large vessel, at least moves the small vessel towards it. He would thus shew how prayer, even though, it could not directly move God towards the suppliant, might yet move the suppliant towards God, and bring the two parties closer to each other. This is truth, but not the whole truth. We fear that no one will be induced to pray for the mere pleasure of the prayer ; nor from the hope, that though God is not moved by it, he himself may be improved. There would be an idea of illusion (not to say hypocrisy) accompanying tliis feeling, which must render the prayer, even if persevered in, powerless in its effects on the man himself, as well as upon God. After hearing a sermon preached by Dr. Leechman, in which he dwelt upon the power of prayer to render the wishes it expressed more ardent and passionate, Hume remarked with great justice, "We can make use of no expression, or even thought, in prayers and entreaties, whioh does not imply that these prayers have an influence."* Prayer can accomplish the ends referred to by Leechman, only when it proceeds from a living faith in God, as at once the hearer and the answerer of prayer. In this respect there is a remarkable analogy between the influence of the * Letter to Baron Mure, in Burton's Life of Hume. AND FURTHERING SPIRITUAL ENDS. 217 moral, and tltat of the religious, affections. All the virtues are pleasurable in themselves, and lead to beneficial results ; but they do so only when exercised as virtues, and not for the mere jilcasures or benefits that accompany them. When attended to merely for the sake of the consequences, it will be found that the consequences do not follow. In like manner, we find that spiritual affections produce such a hallowed influence on the soul only when performed as duties which we owe to God. We must therefore seek for some deeper foundation on which to build the duty of prayer. Prayer has a quintuple foundation in natural religion. Three of the grounds are merely subsidiary to the others, which furnish the proper basis. First, The deepest and highest feelings of our nature prompt to prayer. Admiration of God's works, gratitude for favours, a consciousness of guilt, and a sense of helplessness, all find their becoming expression in the soul pouring itself out to God. This IS the result to which they spontaneously lead, except in so for as they are restrained, by a speculative unbelief, or by cherished sins. The very atheist in these days is compelled to become pantheist, that he may find outlet to these feelings, in com- munion with an invisible power. Rousseau talks of a " bewilder- ing ecstasy, to which my mind abandoned itself without control, and which, in the excitement of my transports, made me some- times exclaim, 'Oh, great being! oh, great being!' without being able to say or think more." To take only one of these feelings — the sense of weakness — " There is," says Guizot, " a sentiment to be found under diverse forms among all men, the sentiment of the need of some external succour, of a support to the human will, of a force which may lend its force and strength to our necessity. The man searches all around for this support, and for this force to aid him ; he requires them as the encouragement of friendship, as counsel to his wisdom, as an example to copy, to approve of what he likes, and from a dread of blame. There is not a person who cannot produce in his own case a thousand proofs of this movement of a soul seeking out of itself an aid to its own freedom, which it feels to be at once real and insuflScient. And as the visible world and human society do not respond always to his wishes. as they are infected with the same insutficiency which he finds 21 8 METHOD OF ANSWERING PRATEB, in himself, the mind goes beyond the visible world, ano ai^Kf^ human relations, for the support which it needs ; the reiigiona sentiment develops itself, and man addresses himself to God, and calls him to his succour. Prayer is the most elevated, though it is not the only form, under which there is manifested this universal sentiment of the feebleness of human will, this recourse to an exterior force to which it may unite."* Secondly, Man's state of dependence renders prayer a becom- ing exercise. The lesson taught by his inward feeling is also the lesson taught by his relation to the external world. God has so constituted his providence, that man is at all times dependent on his Maker for the comforts and the very necessaries of life. God could, no doubt, have placed mankind in a different consti- tution of things, where praise and not prayer would have been the befitting exercise. Situated as he is, he is constrained to feel a sense of dependence ; and of this feeling, prayer is the suitable expression. But we fear that neither of these two considerations, operating singly, will be sufficient to produce steady and persevering prayer. For if there are certain impulses of nature which would draw us in one way, there are other impulses which would draw us in an opposite direction ; there is pride, holding us back when we would lie low at the footstool of God's throne ; there is the opposition of the heart to what is spiritual, repelling ua when we would come to the light. Hence we find, that in no pagan religion, nor in nature's religion under any of its forms, is there any sustained or regular prayer in the service paid to the gods. Gifts may be offered to express gratitude, ejacula- tions are emitted to give utterance to a sense of want, depend- ence, and guilt ; but there is no prayer of a continued, of an elevated, or elevating description. Under the influence of distracting natural feeling, ilie follow- ing is an experience to which the hearts of many will respond. Early trained to it under the domestic roof, the person regularly engaged in prayer, during childhood and opening manhood. But as he became introduced to general society, and began to feel his independence of the guardians of his youth, he was tempted to look upon the father's commands, in this respect, as proceeding from sourness and sternness ; and the mother's ad * Civilisation en France, cinqui&me Lejon. AND FURTHERING SPIRITUAL ENDS. 219 vice, as originating in an amiable weakness and timidity. He is now careless in the performance of acts which in time past had been punctually attended to. How short, how hm-ried, how cold are the prayers which he now utters I Then there come to be mornings on which he is snatched away to some very im- portant or enticing work, without engaging in his customary devotions. There are evenings, too, following days of mad excitement or sinful pleasure, in which he feels utterly indis- posed to go into the presence of God, and to be left alone with him. He feels that there is an utter incongruity between the ball-room or the theatre which he has just left, and the throne of grace to which he should now go. What can he say to God when he would pray to him ? Confess his sins ? No ; he does not at present feel the act to be sinful. Thank God for giving him access to such follies ? He has his doubts whether God approves of all that has been done. But he may ask God's blessing ? No ; he is scarcely disposed to acknowledge that he needs a blessing, or he doubts whether the blessing would be given. The practical conclusion to which he comes is, that it may be as consistent in him to betake himself to sleep without offering to God what he feels would only be a mockery. What is he to do the following morning ? It is a critical time. Con- fess his error ? No ; with the gay scene floating before his foncy, and with the taste and relish of it yet upon his palate, he is not prepared to acknowledge his folly. Morning and evening now go and return, and bring new gifts from God, and new manifes- tations of his goodness ; but no acknowledgment of the Divine bounty on the part of him who is yet ever receiving it. No doubt, there are times when he is prompted to prayer by power- ful feelings, called up by outward trials or inward convictions. But ever when the storms of human life would drive him to the shore, there is a tide beating him back. His course continues to be a very vacillating one — now seeming to approach to God, and anon driven farther from him, till he obtains from books or from lectures a smattering of half understood science. He now learns that all things are governed by laws regular and fixed, over which the breath of prayer can exert as little influence, as they move on in their allotted course, as the passing breeze of the earth over the sun in his circuit. False philosophy has now couie to the aid of guilty feeUngs, and congeals their cold waters 220 METHOD OF ANSWERING PRATER, into an icicle Ipng at his very heart, cooling all his ardour, and damping all his enthusiasm. He looks hack at times, no douht, to the simple faith of his childhood with a sigh ; but it is as to a pleasing dream or illusion, from which he has been awakened, and into which, the spell being broken, he can never again falL We must, therefore, seek for a firmer basis on which to rest the duty of prayer. Thirdly, Prayer is a duty which we owe to God. It is due on the part of the intelligent creature that he should thus exalt the great Creator. Common gratitude should prompt every thankful mind to express its sense of the Divine goodness. Every reproach of conscience should bring us down upon our knees before that God whose law we have broken. Prayer, " uttered or unexpressed," is the form which this duty of obeis- ance, which we hold to be a moral duty, should assume. It is man, in his own way, and according to his nature, addressing himself to God, who, according to his nature, must hear and listen to the petitions of his creatures. There may be prayer where there are no words employed, and the heart may move when the lips do not move. Still, it is according to the consti- tution of man that out of the abundance of the heart the mouth will speak ; and words, while forming no essential part of the prayer, will yet essentially aid it, by keeping the mind from falling into blankness and vacuity, by instigating and guiding it in a certain train — in short, they furnish cords to bind the sacrifice to the altar, they supply a censer in which the delicate incense of our feelings may be presented before the Lord. Fourthly, God has so arranged his providence that he provides an answer to prayer. It is of the utmost moment to establish this truth, and to show that there is a means by which God can answer prayer in a manner worthy of his own character, and suited to ours. Dr. Chalmers has treated this subject with his usual enlarge- ment of mind. He supposes that prayer may be answered in one or other of two ways, in perfect accordance with the ordinary procedure of God. He supposes that prayer and its answer may be connected together, as cause and effect, that they may form a sequence of a very subtle kind, more subtle than any of the sequences of the most latent physical substances, and not there- fore observable, except by those who have that nice spiritual AND FUKTHERINQ SPIRITUAL ENDS. 221 discernment which is communicatGcl by faith. Or, he supposes, that God may interpose among the physical agents beyond that limit to which human sagacity can trace the operation of law. He calls on us to observe how, in all human ajBfuirs, we can trace the actual agency of law but a very little way back. Natural powers, as we follow them, become so complicated in their operation, that God might easily interfere with them, and change their operation without the possibility of his presence being detected. He might, for instance, change the laws which regulate the weather, and send a storm or calm at any given place or time ; or he might modify the laws by which the living functions of the human body are regulated, and send health or disease, and no man be able to say whether there has been an interposition or not."-' • We arc unwilling to cast a shade of doubt upon these beauti- ful views. It does seem, however, as if the first were scarcely consistent with the correct idea of prayer. To suppose that there is a causal connexion, does not leave that discretion to the Divine Being in answering prayer which it is most needful that he should exercise. Nor does the analogy of nature furnish us with a single instance of a mental feeling causally influencing an object or event with which it has no physical connexion. It may be safely said of the second view, that it never can be directly disproved. It takes us into a region in which, if proof cannot easily be discovered, it is certain that disproof cannot be found. Both theories may be fairly held as serving the purpose intended by their author, and as showing that it is possible for God to answer prayer. It is a favourite maxim with Chalmers, and one of importance, that an hypothesis nay be fitted, when it serves no other purpose, to take the edge off a plausible argument. The objector, in this case, insists (as the major proposition in the syllogism) that God cannot answer prayer in consistency with his usual procedure; and Chalmers deprives this general proposition, and therefore the conclusion, of all force, by showing that there are at least two conceivable ways by which God can grant the requests of his creatures, in perfect accordance with the principles of his providence. But is it necessary to resort to either of these ingenious theories ? Is there not a more obvious means by whicii God * Chalmers' Natural Theology, B. v. c. iii. 222 METHOD OF ANSWERING PRAYER, can answer tlie prayer of faith ? It is not necessary to suppose that prayer and its answer form a separate law of nature, for the answer may come as the result of other laws arranged for this very purpose. Nor is it needful to suppose that God inter- poses to change his own laws. The analogy of his method ot operation in other matters would rather incline us to believe that he has so arranged these laws, that by their agency he may answer prayer without at all interfering with them. We have been endeavouring to develop the plan of providence by which he can secure this end. His agents were at first ordained and marshalled by him for the accomplishment of all the wise de- signs of his government ; and among other ends, they may bring the blessings for which faith is expected to supplicate. He sends an answer to prayer in precisely the same way as he compasses all his other moral designs, as he conveys blessings and inflicts judgments. He does not require to interfere with his own ar- rangements, for there is an answer provided in the arrangement made by him from all eternity. How is it that God sends us the bounties of his providence ? — how is it that he supplies the many wants of his creatures .^ — how is it that he encourages industry ? — how is it that he arrests the plots of wickedness ? — how is it that he punishes in this life notorious offenders against his law ? The answer is, by the skilful pre-arrangements of his providence, whereby the needful events fall out at the very time and in the way required. When the question is asked, How does God answer prayer ? we give the very same reply — it is by a pre-ordained appointment, when God settled the constitution of the world, and set all its parts in order. There is nothing here opposed to the principles of the Divine government, but everything in consonance with them. We have, in a previous section, shown how events may be joined by a natural tie, by a moral tie, or a religious tie. In regard to the natural tie, we have shewn that in nature there are beautiful relations in the works of God, not originating in any causal connexion. Again, we have hinted that we may expect God to support his moral law by physical agencies. The illustration of this subject will yet pass under our notice. Meanwhile, we would have it observed, that prayer and its answer may be held as connected by a religious tie. Prayer, we have seen, is a duty which man, in his present state, owes to his Creator. Man is a AND FURTHERING SPIRITUAL ENDS. 223 religious as well as a moral being. There are important rela- tions between man and his Maker, originating, no doubt, in morality in its widest sense, but rising ftir above a mere com- mon-place virtue. Now, just as God sustains his moral law by the arrangements of his physical providence, so we may expect him also to support his spiritual government by the same means. We must ever hold the physical as the infeiior, to be subordi- nated to the moral and the spiritual, and we expect it to be employed to uphold these as the end. Just as he has arranged his providence, as all thinking minds acknowledge, to encourage virtue and discountenance vice, we anticipate that, by tbe same agency, he may also provide an answer to prayer. And it is a fact, that all who have continued steadfast in the prayer of faith have declared, as the result of their experience, that God has been f^iithful, and has lot failed to show that he has been at- tending to their sujipLoations. We reckon it a presumption in favour of the view now ex- pounded, that it leaves the laws of nature undisturbed, not only within, but beyond the limit at which human observation ceases. Geology and astronomy conspire to inform us that there is a uniformity of law throughout the widest regions of time and space. It seems as if, throughout all knowable time and space, there were a government by general laws, which others as well as the human race may observe and act upon. The parts of the great Cosmos are so connected that irremediable evil might follow the interference with law, even though that interference should be beyond the limit of human observation. We cannot conceive it to be for the mere good of man, that general law has reigned throughout the long eras of the history of the earth before man peopled it, or that it reigns in the distant regions of space, of which he can take but a bare cognizance. Other ends must be served by this universality of law ; and we are not willing to suppose that it ceases at the point at which man's eye must cease to follow it. Every new discovery in science widens the dominions of law, and we are not convinced that the interests of religion require us to limit them. Altogether, when there is a way by which God can answer prayer without disturb- ing his own laws, it is safest to conclude that this is the actual method employed No objection can be brought against this view, from the 224 METHOD OF ANSWEKING PRAYER, Divine immutability or the doctrine of predestination, which will not apply so extensively as to reduce it to an absurdity, {Reductio ad absurdum.) Since God is unchangeable, and has arranged everything beforehand, why need I pray at all ? The reply is — that the answer to prayer proceeds on the foreseen circumstance that the prayer will be offered — that if the man refuses to pray, he shall assuredly find it fixed that no answer is given. Should petulance insist on a farther reply, we think it enough to show that this is a style of objection which would apply to every species of human activity. Why need I be dili- e;ent, if it is arranged whether or no I shall get the object which I expect to gain by industry ? is the next form which the cavil may assume. If the objector is an ambitious man, we ask, why pursue so eagerly that expected honour, when he knows that it has been ordained, from all eternity, whether he shall secure it or no ? If he is a man of pleasure, we ask, why such anxiety to procure never-ceasing mirth and amusement, when he knows that it is pre-determined what amount of enjoyment he is to receive in this life ? Ah 1 it turns out that the objection, which presses with no peculiar force upon the supposed Divine arrange- ments in regard to prayer, is a mere pretext to excuse the un- willingness of the person who urges it, for he discovers it only in those cases in which he is indisposed to act. There, appears to us to be a beautiful congruity in this method of answering prayer. Prayer is effectually answered, and yet there is no encouragement given, nor room allowed, to any pos- sible evils, such as pride and self-confidence, or easy self-com- placency and inactivity. If prayer and its answer had been connected as cause and effect, there might have been a risk, that when the person had prayed he would rashly conclude that exertion might now cease. But in the system now developed, while there is assuredly a connexion between the entreaty and the blessing, it is not a connexion in the mechanical laws ot nature, but in the counsels of God ; and the man who has prayed, as he looks for the answer, feels that he must fall in with the Divine procedure. There is a wholesome discipline exercised by the \ery uncertainty (humanly speaking) of the means which God employs for sending the answer, and the person who has prayed is kept humble and dependent, in the exercise of a spirit of wa'iting and watchfulness. He feels that AND FURTHERING SPIRITUAL ENDS. 225 ho dare be proud and presumptuous only at, the risk of defeating all the purposes served by his acts of devotion. He sees that, on ceasing to be active, God may probably punish him for his folly by laying an arrest on the expected answer to his petitions. It is another congruity of this method of providence, that God can so join petition with its answer, that, while the connexion is not observable by his neighbours, it may be traced by the man himself. There is an obvious propriety in such a provision being made, in so delicate a matter as the soul's communing with its Maker. We may observe the same principles in other dealings of God. In providential events, as, for instance, in afflictive dispensations, the individual can see many adaptations to him- self which are hid from the eyes of others. There is a special propriety, as it appears to us, in the answer to prayer being conveyed in this way, as a token to the man himself, but which he is not ostentatiously to display before the world, and thereby proclaim himself a favourite of heaven. By the nicely fitted machinery of his providence, God can connect the prayer and its answer by threads which are all but invisible to others, but which are clearly discerned by the man himself. The same general rules that guide us in looking for an answer to prayer, also guide us in determining the exceptions. It is not our prayer that produces the blessing by its inherent power, but it comes by the special appointment of God, and so we look for an answer only when the request is agreeable to the will of heaven. We always leave a discretion in the hands of God ; and every man who knows himself, and the perversity of his desires, will rejoice that there is power left with God, and that he does not promise to grant all our requests. We see, too, how there is a discretion left with God, not only as to whether he will send the blessing, but as to the time, the manner, and means, in respect of all which the soul is not to dictate to Deity, but patiently to wait upon his pleasure. Nor should it be for- gotten that the tie that connects the prayer and its answer is a religious tie ; and we are thus reminded, that it is only when the prayer is spiritual that it can be expected to bring with it the anticipated blessings. ' Nor should it be overlooked that, by these skilful arrange- ments, God can not only answer prayer, but answer it with such an ojjportuneness of time, place, and mode, that when the blessing 226 METHOD OF ANSWERING PRAYER. comes, it is as if it had dropped immediately from lieaven, God delays the answer that it may be the more beneficent when it comes. The stream is made to turn and wind, that it may re- ceive contributions from every valley which it passes, and all to flow more largely into the bosom at last. Grod's plans ripen slowly, that the fruit may be the richer and mellower. Hence it is that the royal munificence of his bounty knows no limits at last. " He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think." Fifthly, Prayer has a most beneficent reflex influence upuu the character. We are unwilling that the obligation of prayer should be made to rest primarily on such a basis. But, an in- dependent basis being secured otherwise, it is indeed most de- lightful to trace the blessed influence which prayer produces upon the character. We must first show how it shines in its own light, and then it is pleasant to observe how its light is reflected from off the heart and temper, which it beautifies and adorns. Prayer, like virtue, should not be courted for its mere indirect consequences; but, when sought for its own sake, it brinscs with it a thousand other blessings. Combine these five considerations, the two presumptions in the feeling and state of man, the two direct proofs in the duty of prayer, and the appointed connexion with its answer, and the accessory in the results that follow, and we have a foundation on which prayer may rest, and from which it can never be ■dislodged. These observations on the subject of prayer hold true in regard to all other spiritual ends contemplated by God. Whether the mere observer of physical nature notices it or no, we doubt not but the " earth is meant to help the woman," that the phy- sical is used to promote the spiritual, which is to be the last and greatest of all the historical developments evolved by God in our world. But the discussion of this subject Avould conduct us into a far higher field of inquiry than the common provi- dence of God ; and we wish it to be understood that in these sections we are treating of the ordinary dealings of God in the world, and not of the supernatural government of his Church. RELATION OF PHYSICAL TO MORAL PROVIDENCE. 227 CHAPTER III. RELATION OP THE PROVIDENCE OP GOD TO THE CHARACTER OF MAN. BECT. I. — GENERAL REMARKS ON THE RELATION OF THE PHYSICAL TO THE MORAL PROVIDENCE OF GOD. Two truths, regarding man's moral nature, stand out as among the most certain of all that are revealed by the consciousness — the one, that there is an essential distinction between good and evil ; and the other, that the moral is higher in its very nature than the physical. Place before the mind two actions — the one morally good, and the other morally evil ; the one, let us sup- pose, a truthful declaration, uttered by a person tempted to equivocate ; and the other, a falsehood deliberately uttered : the mind, in judging of them, at once and authoritatively proclaims that there is a difTerence. Again, place before the mind a moral good and a physical good — say, the furtherance of a nation's virtue on the one liand, and the production of some beautiful piece of art on the other, and the mind is prepared to decide that the former is immeasurably the higher. Assuming, then, that there is a moral good, and that the moral is higher than the physical, let us now look at the con- nexion between them. That there is such a connexion, we hold to be one of the most firmly established of the truths which re- late to the government of God. The God who hath established both liath established a relation between them. There is nothing unreasonable or improbable in the idea, that God should connect one part of his government with another. Every person acknowledges that the physical is used to promote the sentient and the intellectual in man's nature — that is, the external world is so arranged as to minister to man's happiness 228 EELATION OF PHYSICAL TO MORAL PKOVIDENCE. and comfort, and to help on his growth in knowledge and intel- ligence. We have been at pains to point out what we consider as among the most striking instances of this latter kind of adaptation. We have also shown that there may be fine threads connecting the physical with the spiritual. But there is a no less curious, though perhaps, in some respects, a more complex relation, between the physical and the moral — the physical, as the lesser, being always regarded as subordinated to the moral, as infinitely the greater. The physical events of providence liave most assuredly a bearing upon the character of man. Can we be wrong in supposing that, if man had been a being spotlessly pure, God would have governed him by a moral law, producing the same harmony throughout the world of mind as physical law does in the world of matter ? It is conceivable that, in such a world, the whole marshalling of the Divine plans would have been clear and orderly, as in the arrangements of a well-regulated family, all the members of which love one another, and love their head. The physical would have been so ordered iis to serve the same purposes with those kind rewards and encouragements which parents are ever giving to their obedient children. Jt3ut man, it is evident, is not habitually guided by any such moral principle. Take any rule, the loosest and most earthly, purporting to be moral law, and examine him by it, and we are constrained to acknowledge that he is not obeying it. His character being of this description, it is to be expected that the government of the world should be suited to it. It is ques- tionable whether the mode of government best fitted for holy beings is at all adapted to those who have broken loose from the restraints of moral principle. Wlien a fiither finds his children rebelling against him, and setting his authority at defiance, he must regulate his family on totally different principles from those adopted when the bonds that connected the members were confidence and love. God cannot in any case abandon the go- vernment of any portion of his own universe, and when he cannot rule by moral laws, he must needs curb by physical restraint. But in pursuing this course of reflection, we are in danger, it must be acknowledged, of outrunning the premises as yei established. We find ourselves looking into the purpose sup- posed to be served by them, before determining the facts them- AIDS TO VIRTUE, AND RESTRAINTS UPON VICE. 229 selves. In this chapter we establish one of the facts : we show, that God's providence is intimately connected with the moral character of man, and, in particular, that there are restraints hiid upon human sinfulness and folly by skilful arrangements meeting and conspiring for this purpose. It must be left to a subsequent part of this Treatise to establish another fact, furnish- ing the other premise — namely, that man's character is sinful. From the two premises, when fully established, we arrive at a discovery of the means adopted by God to govern a fallen world in which the moral law has lost its power, and perceive how ho can bind by physical chains those who have broken loose from the gentler ties of affection and moral obligation. So far as we seem to stretch the argument beyond this point in this chapter, it is to be understood as merely presumptive. It is not con- clusive till it is furnished with the counterpart fact, to be dis- covered by that inquiry into man's moral principles which we purpose to undertake in the Book which follows. SECT. II. — AIDS TO VIRTUE, AND RESTRAINTS UPON VICE. There is surely somewhere within the dominions of God a world in which there is no disorder and no violence, and in which the moral law, the royal law of love, is sufficient to bind the intelligent creatures to God, and to one another. Account for it as we may, it is evident at the first glance that our lot is not cast in such a world. We find ourselves, instead, in a state of things in which there are much confusion and misery pro- duced by human wickedness — this province, rebellious though it seem, being all the while under the discipline of God. Possibly, the problem which had to be solved in the counsels of heaven was — Given, a world in which the love of holiness and the hatred of sin do not exist, or are at all events very weak — to determine a method of governing it, so that it may not run into inextricable confusion, and destroy itself by its own madness and violence. Are we living in such a constitution of things ? But we are not at present inquiring into the nature or extent of man's love of virtue or vice : this is a topic whicli falls to bo considered in a subsequent part of this Treatise. We may, how- ever, at this stage of our inquiries, take a view of the numerous means which God employs for the promotion of virtuous, and 230 AIDS TO VIRTUE, AND the restraining of vicious conduct, apart from any truly virtuous principle that may lodge in the human breast. I. There are a great many direct encouragements given to virtuous, and restraints laid upon immoral conduct. There is the pleasant sentient feeling which the benevolent affections diffuse, by means of a nicely adjusted nervous system, through the bodily frame ; and again, there are the nervous irritation and Aveakness produced by the cherishing of the malignant feelings or by sinful excess. Every one knows that the cultivation of virtuous affec- tions is favourable to the health; that worldly cares and anxieties carried to excess, that envy, jealousy, and revenge, that the criminal indulgence of animal lusts, all injure and waste the body. God thus indicates, by laws more easily understood than those of the best ordered kingdoms, that he approves of moral conduct, and disapproves of the opposite. II. Providence is so arranged, that in the natural course of events, virtuous action leads to a multitude of results which ar<^ beneficial to the individual. The upright man is trusted, and has a thousand means of advancing his interests denied to the cunning and deceitful. The friendly man receives friendship, which the selfish man can never obtain, or enjoy though it were granted to him. It needs no deep reflection to discover, that honesty is the best policy, that benevolence is its own reward ; and multitudes act upon such prudential considerations, when higher principles might fail to maintain any powerful influence over them. Had God constituted his government on a different principle, and so that in the end vice were commonly successful, and productive of the greatest amount of happiness, truly we know not if there would be any remains of apparent virtue among the gi-eat mass of mankind ; it is certain that violence must have reigned to an extent which would have made this world altogether intolerable, and have rendered it a deed of benevolence on the part of God to destroy it with all possible speed. But let us not be misunderstood. We do not mean to assert that man has nothing but a cold and calculating selfishness. We assume that he has generous and sympathetic feelings, (we speak not now of virtuous principle ;) and the aids to benevolence, which God has furnished serve the same purposes as props do to the ivy — give it bearing and direction ; and benevolence, we suspect, would often fail without such a support to lean on. RESTRAINTS UPON VICE. 231 III. Nor are these the only means which God can employ, or which he does employ, for the correction of evil, and the further- ance of tliat which is good. He has other and incidental, but still most potent, means of furthering the same ends in the " wliecl within a wheel," by which he can arrest the purposes of raankintl, and the effects that would follow, at the instant of the design or execution. The history of the world is ever displaying instances in which schemes of daring wickedness, fitted to pro- duce incalculable evil, have been stayed in their progress, by ]n-ovidential interpositions. How often have the judgments of God visibly alighted upon the daring opposers of the will of God, while others have escaped ! just as the lightnings strike the bold cliff and the lofty tower which rise proudly to heaven, while the plains and the lowly cottages are unmolested. The death of thfe Roman Emperor Julian, when he was bent upon the restoration of polytheism, and on the crushing of Christianity, as yet adopted by perhaps a minority of the empire, is one of the many providences which every reflecting mind will discover in the history of the Church of Christ. On the other hand, the good which could not make way by its own strength, has often been helped on by favouring circumstances. The coldest and most secular historians are constrained to discover an overruling power in the events which furthered and hastened the Great Reformation. The simultaneous, or all but simultaneous, dis- covery of the magnet, of the art of printing, of the telescope, and of a new world, the general revival of letters, and the awak- ening of a keen spirit of inquiry and enterprise, opened the way for truths which might not have spread so rapidly by their own inherent power. Take any great or beneficent change produced in the state of the world, inquire into the causes and occasions of it, and you find a host of conspiring agencies all tending to a given point, and evidently under the guidance of a presiding mind. What all men see on a great scale in the history of the world and of great events, every observant man must have remarked in liis own little circle of acquaintanceship, or in his own personal experience. Every one who has watched the ways of providence must have noticed how schemes of good were furthered, and at last were crowned with success, not so much through their owi» eflSciency or excellence, as by the circumstances which favourecj 232 AIDS TO VIRTUEj AND their development and execution. Almost all may remember instances in Avhicli the plots of cunning were disclosed when they seemed about to be successful, or in which the hand of violence was arrested when it was lifted for action. IV. As the aggregate result of the regulations of Providence, there are gro^ijjs of arrangements fitted to restrain the individual from vice, and to cement society. The class of arrangements last considered are of an individual and accidental character, being of the nature of those fortuities which, as we have seen, serve so important a purpose in the government of God. Those now fall- ing under consideration are rather of the nature of those general laws which, acting uniformly, exercise a constant influence upon the v.'orld. Like these general laws, they are the result of skilful adjustments ; and being constant, or recurrent after proper inter- vals, they tend to bind mankind together, and to counterbalance ever-recurring evils. A few instances, out of many presenting themselves to the observant eye, will indicate the kind of means which God employs to keep human waywardness within bounds. Look at this quiet rural district of our land, a kind of peninsula to the contiguous world, from which it is all but separated. There is not an event occurring during many years to disturb the outward harmony which visibly reigns in it. The citizen who retreats to it in the KPason of the year when all nature is smiling, is inclined to think that this decorum must proceed from the loftiest principle and high-toned religion, and concludes that he has discovered paradise still lingering on our earth. Alas ! he needs only a little familiar and household acquaintance with the inhabitants to discover that there are feuds, individual and famil}^, raging in many a bosom. As he is initiated into the secrets of the little world, he finds that it is but a miniature of the great world, and that there are smouldering jealousies, heartburnings, and animosities, where he thought that all had been confidence and love. Whence then, you ask, this pleasing propriety and visible peace ? On inquiry, you may find that there are counteracting influences in the very evil agencies which are at work in the community. Every man's eye is upon his neighbour's character, and he who exhibits selfish- ness, deceit, or violence, instantly becomes the object of general suspicion and dislike. The very curiosity and jealousy, so prying, which the parties exercise towards one another, are the means of RESTRAINTS UPON VICE. 233 ?OTinteracting the evil consequences which would follow, as the heat of summer raises on their mountains the moisture and the cloud to moderate its scorching influence. Turn now to a different scene, to one of the closest lanes of a crow^led city. So far from every man knowing his neighbour's character, there is scarcely any one who knows his neighbour's name. You meet here with none of those backbitings and jealousies w-hich so fretted the other community ; but we miss, too, that decorum which proceeds from a sense of character, and a fear of offence. The personal and family feuds have disap- peared, but there have departed with them all the offices of kind and obliging neighbourhood ; and we are among a population radically selfish, often malignant, and always disposed to lay hold on every criminal indulgence which does not insert its sting into them the instant they attempt to seize it. Here, too, however, we have a counteracting influence in the vigilant police, which can be easily provided by communities assembled in cities. Public opinion was the police in the rural district; and when the public became too extended, and its opinion too diffused to be effective at any one point, it found means, in its very extension, of arresting the evil which its extension occasioned. The san^.e kind of observation, carried out to other states of society, will detect similar counterbalancing agencies. The poor are dependent upon one another, and are in consequence kind and obliging. It is seldom that a sufferer in the lower grades of life is neglected by neighbours and relatives. A dozen sick- nurses are ready to proffer their services when a poor man is in severe distress, and are all the more likely to perform their offices in a kindly manner, from the circumstance that they look for no fee or reward. The richer portion of the community do not feel themselves to be so dependent on their neighbours and friends, and hence are not so kind in their offices ; but then the sufferer does n;;t require the same tokens of friendship and regard, for he can purchase for money what the other obtains from affection. The same remark applies to those countries which differ from each other in respect of the provision made by law for the support of the poor. When there is no legal pro- vision, every poor man is disposed to sympathize with his neigh- bour, from a keen perception of his own possible condition. On the introduction of poor-laws, these gentle offices are apt to cease, 234 CONDITIONS OF THE STABILITY for they are felt to be no longer demanded by so strong and imperative a necessity. Again, the savage feels how dependent he is upon his family and his tribe, and he exhibits corresponding qualities. He be- comes hospitable and clannish in his character. But while kind to individuals, and devoted to his tribe, he has no universal benevolence, and he reckons himself at liberty to make war with every tribe not specially connected with his own. As society advances in civilisation, each man becomes less dependent on immediate neighbours, but feels more and more his connexion with the race ; and hence he is apt, in the clashing competitions of the world, to become individually selfish, but generally bene- volent and cosmopolitan. Without such arrangements, favouring what is good and dis- couraging what is evil, virtue would have great difficulty in retaining a place in our world. But by such powerful instru- mentality, this world can be kept from lapsing into total dis- order. This agency is so powerful, operates so universally, can so change with changing circumstances, can be wielded so suddenly and unexpectedly, and with such awful and irresistible force, that God might, we doubt not, rule by it a world in which there was not one virtuous principle or truly holy affection. SECT. III. — ARRANGEMENTS NEEDFUL TO THE STABILITY OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM. The arrangements noticed in last section related more especially to man as an individual ; those considered in this relate to man in his social capacity. There are arrangements needful in order to the stability of the social system, and first among these we meet with two positive institutions. First, There is the Family Ordinance. Instead of the human species being consigned to solitary separation on the one hand, or of being congregated into large promiscuous companies or herds on the other hand, we find them allotted along the surface of this wide world into little communities, living under the same roof, and connected by a thousand gentle offices which they discharge one towards another, and to which they are prompted OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM. 235 by interesting ties of feeling and affection. The system is in admirable adaptation to our state and our nature. We come into the world, not like the young of some animals, able to act for ourselves, but in utter helplessness, and we find that God has provided for us kind parents who delight to minister to our infirmities, and who feel as if the infant's smile was a sufficient reward for all their toilsome days and waking nights. The heart responding to heart, the reciprocal tenderness expressed in a thousand practical ways, are fitted, beyond anything which man can devise or conceive, to draw forth the feelings and to train the affections of the infant and juvenile mind. The memory, guided by the heart, here comes to the aid of the judgment, and renders all lengthened argument unnecessary ; for, far as our memory goes, it calls up scenes of unwearied watchfulness and melting love, and tells us that no nurture could be so bountiful, as none could be so pleasant, as that which takes place under the dews of a mother's kindness and the shelter of a father's counsels. Wild theorists have laboured to overturn this system, but God in his providence hath inscribed folly on all their mad and profane attempts to disturb his arrangements ; and it has been Ibund, that after producing not a little temporary misery, these parties have been obliged to abandon their schemes as prejudi- cial or impracticable. In ancient Sparta, Lycurgus substituted public education for family training, and the experiment termi- nated in rendering a whole nation cold-hearted and selfish. Socialism, under some of its forms, has proposed to exchange a household for a promiscuous life; but, as might have been anticipated, the change when carried into efiect has led to caprice and cruelty, and opened the floodgates to every form of vice. Secondly, There is the ordinance of Civil Government. There is a necessity for such a restraint, in order to the very existence, and still more in order to the wellbeing, of commu- nities. God has, also, speedily confounded all those visionary systems which have been projected to supersede this institution of heaven. There are means of securing governors, in the love of power which is so strong in some minds, and in the talent for ruling for which other parties are distinguished. There is a provision for obedience being rendered, not only in the palpable 236 CONDITIONS OF THE STABILITY advantages of government, but in the feelings of allegiance, of loyalty, and nationality, which spring up in the hunaan bosom. Thirdly, There is the physical dependence of man. We have seen, in the last chapter, how dependent man is on physical arrangements. All the parts of the frame are so closely con- nected with each other, that the least derangement in any one may render all the rest useless. We have seen, too, how this complication becomes greater according as we approach nearer to man — how the net becomes more closely woven the nearer we come to him who is restrained by it. The laws of the principle of life, of the brain, of the nervous system, of the muscles, of the bones, of the lungs, of the heart, of the liver, and other vital functions, must all be in healthy operation, in order to constant and well regulated activity. Every one knows, too, how much the temper, the sensibilities, the floating impulses and notions, nay, the very talents and opinions of mankind, and through them their whole character, are determined by the bodily tem- perament. It is good for man to consider how dependent he becomes in consequence of this involution of providence. Not that he is to be regarded, after the representation of some silly theorists of our day, as the mere creature of circumstances, his character taking its hue like his skin from the climate in which he lives, or like the insect from the food by which it is nourished. Man is conscious that he has a judgment and will of his own, which, as being the true determining causes of his conduct, in- volve him in deep responsibility. But while man's will and accountability remain untouched, God has means of accomplish- ing HIS WILL, and that with or without the concurrence of man's will. While men's thoughts and affections and volitions are all free, God has a thousand ways of directing, or of thwarting, if need be, their purposes, and turning them towards the accom- plishment of his own plans of infinite wisdom. Fourthly, The uncertainty of human life is also one of the statical conditions of the government of the world. While a life much shorter and more uncertain would have prevented man from undertaking any great work, and laid an arrest on human progress, it is just as evident that a more lengthened life, with a greater security for continued health, would have tempted mankind to bolder schemes of ambition and wickedness. May we not discover a reason in some of the considerations OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM. 237 now urged for the slioitenin-- of the lives of manldnd after the flood of Noah ? For wise reason.^, all of which we may never be able to discover, but one of which no doubt was the lengthening of hiunan experience, and the handing down of the results of it to future generations, God saw fit to allot to mankind a longer earthly existence in the early ages of the world. And until such time as mankind became numerous, had learned the art ot combination, and were disposed to spurn at all moral restraint, there might be some measure of order and peace produced by God, even in a wicked world where men lived till nearly the age of 1000 years. But when the race had learned the arts, when they knew how to unite in their daring and ambitious schemes, when the sons of God, the children of the Church, married into the wicked world, and the restraint which the Church laid upon the world was removed, then it was befitting that the existing dispensation should be terminated by a flood, which swept away the inhabitants. The whole earth was filled with violence ; and but for a change in the method of government, this violence might have become beyond measure intolerable. In the new dispensation, the bow in the cloud was a sign that the earth «hould not henceforth be visited by such a catastrophe ; but con- temporaneously with it, and ia order to render such an interpo- sition no longer needful, there was to be a shortening of man's life, and apparently, too, a greater uncertainty as to the time of the approach of death. Man's gigantic plans of wickedness were not henceforth to be arrested by so terrible an event as the Flood ; but means, too, were taken to prevent their schemes from attaining so tremendous a magnitude. May we not dis- cover, too, in the confusion of tongues at Babel, and the conse- quent dispersion, a special arrangement of heaven for keeping the inhabitants of this world from combining to produce such an amount of disorder and violence as must have prevented this world from fulfilling the ends contemplated by its Governor ? Fifthly, There is the dependence of every man upon OTHERS OF HIS SPECIES. Evcn Robinsou Crusoe was dependent on other men for his gun, which may have employed many a hand in constructing its several parts. The greater portion of mankind nmst loan more or less on a vast number of other men. We should consider, too, how these other men on whom we depend are as dependent as ourselves on others of the race. It 238 CONDITIONS OF THE STABILITY would appear as if there was so little coherence in society, so little of true affection or righteous principle to band the mem- bers which compose it together, that they have to be made to stand like piles of dead wood (so different from living trees) by leaning upon each other. What dreadful catastrophes follow, and what a confounding of human wisdom, when God removes any of these supports, and allov/s the fabric to fall by its own instability. In consequence of advancing civilisation, the ends of the earth are brought much nearer each other. It might seem as if man- kind could in consequence now combine the more readily for the accomplishment of some great end, fitted, it may be, to defeat the Divine purposes, like the building of the tower of Babel, which was meant to keep the race together, when it was the purpose of God to disperse them. But in the very widening of civilisation, there are powers called forth fitted to restrain the evil which that extension might produce. In the independence of thinking and acting which advancing enlightenment evokes, there is a coun- teraction to the fatal influence exercised by individual men — such as priests, lawgivers, and conquerors, who acquired so extensive a sway in the early ages of the world. The age of heroes is gone, because the world is now too sagacious not to see their ambition and pretence. In the adjustments of Divine providence, the very pride and rivalry of mankind are made to impose mutual restraints upon themselves, and one evil is made to counter- balance another. It must be acknowledged, however, that while the power of great men has diminished, and to all appearance must continue to lessen, the power of combination among masses is greatly augmented by the intercommunion of ideas and sentiments. If large bodies of mankind could now be made to move under the inspiration of one common principle or impulse, the effects pro- duced would be greater than in the earlier ages of the world. The inroads of the barbarians upon the Roman empire, and the spread of Mahometanism in the seventh and eighth centuries, would be insignificant events when compared with the results which would follow in these times from a similar impulse, politi- cal or religious, seizing the nations of the earth, and alluring them on to conquest. It is possible, that before the world's history closes, the powers of evil may thus unite in one grand OF THE SOCIAL SYSTEM. 239 eflFoit and determination to gain universal dominion. Should such an occurrence take place, as seems very probable, it may be safely predicted that the movement will contain within itself the seeds of its own dissolution. For in very proportion as man's power of swaying distant regions and attaining great ends in- creases, so do the means multiply by which God can arrest human passion and disappoint human ambition. The ball, as it seems to gather strength and to roll on, bearing with it a chilling atmosphere, will be found, under an influence from heaven, to melt away more suddenly than it appeared. What are commonly called the vis medicatrix of nature, and the vis conservatrix of society, spring, we believe, from such checks and adjustments as these, rather than from any inherent power in the objects themselves. Society is so constituted, that there is a means of counteracting human caprice, whatever be the form assumed by it. Society, like the steam-engine, has regulators and safety-valves, all self-acting, and ready to meet the threatened evil, from whatever quarter it may proceed. At the same time, it always happens that things advance most pros- perously when there is no interference with them on the part ot meddling wisdom, Avhich is folly differing from other folly only in this, that it is more conceited. With such aids to virtue and restraints upon vice, we see how perilous it would be to alter the present constitution of things in favour of what might seem to human wisdom to be a better. Defects might easily be pointed out in the veiy theories of the communists, whether they assume the forms of St. Simon, of Owen, or Fourier. All proceed on the assumed principle, that men are always or usually swayed by an enlarged self-love, according to which every one will pursue his best interests when he knows them ; and on the supposed fact that the associations set up do provide for the best interests of the members. Now, this principle, we might show, proceeds on a mistaken view of human character. ]\Iankind are far more frequently swayed by feeling:5, sentiments, impulses, and passions ; by kindness, sym- pathy.and affection ; by vanity, pride, and obstinacy ; byambition, envy, and revenge, than even by a calculating selfishness. In the svsteras of the Communists there is and can be no provision made for exercising, for guiding, and controlling such a conglo- merate of sentiments and lusts. Hence their experimental com- 240 CONDITIONS OF THE STABILITY OF SOCIETT. munities have invariably, and very speedily, become scenes of "wretchedness and dissension.* But there is such a provision made in the constitution of the world as under the discipline of God ; and all attempts to interfere with any particular part of it, such as the family ordinance, will turn out to be as foolish as they are commonly wicked and profane. All endeavours to elevate the degraded and the fallen, so far as they are not immediately religious, should proceed on the principle of calling in those aids and restraints which Provi- dence furnishes. If the rising members of our agricultural labourers, for instance, are degraded in some districts of our * The grand difficulty felt by the enemies of revelation in the present day, is to devise a social system which may stand without a religion, or to devise a religion which may stand a moment's investigation, and have powei-, which deism haa not, over the heart and conduct of men. M. Comte discovering that mankind must have a religion, has developed one in his Politique Positive, now completed. In it we have a priesthood, worship, and sacraments, but no God ; the infant being trained to be a polytheist and a fetichist— the child to be a monotheist, and the full grown man being instructed to adore a Grand Etre, who is the " continuous resultant of all the forces capable of voluntarily concurring in the universal per- feetioning of the world, not forgetting our worthy auxiliaries, the animals," (tome ii. p. 60,) who is, in short, a deification of Comte's system of science and sociology. He complains that his admirers in this country have not adopted his moral and social scheme, and speaks of the convei'sion of those who adopt his positivity and rpject his religion as an abortion, proceeding from impotence of intellect, or in- sufficiency of heart, commonly fi-om both. (Tome i. Pref , p. sv. ; tome iii. Pref., p. xxiv.) What do Mr. Mill and Mr. Lewes say to this ? Yet what have they to substitute for that which they reject ? If they say that man can do without a religion, they contradict some of the deepest jmnciples of our nature. Or if they think that some little clique in London can devise a religion, let them bring it out to the view that we may examine it. Meanwhile we are upon the whole glad that M. Comte has enabled us to judge of his. Chystianity will not suffer by being placed alongside of it. The two best features of it, love to a neighbour and mono- gamy, are taken from the New Testament, while the sanctions given in the Word of God to both in an authoritative moral l.^W and a living God, are removed without a substitute being provided, to regulate a nature acknowledged to be extremely imperfect, and with discordant and selfish tendencies far stronger that the benevo- lent affections. (Tome iii. p. 23.) As he has constituted himself high priest ot his hierarchy, we would place him— if only the experiment could be conducted without injury to immortal interests— for the remainder of his life, at the head of a "positive" community, that the jealousies and disputes, of his contemplative and active classes, of his priests, women educators, and proletaires, displeased with the functions allotted to them, might become an appropriate punishment of his folly. But the experiment cannot be allowed, for his system would turn out to be the most intolerable despotism ever set up in our world, as admitting not only no liberty of action, but no liberty of education or thought, all being compelled to b« positivists, and atheists as well. (See this avowed, tome ii. p 8.) SOCIETY AS UNINFLUENCED BY MORAL JIOTIVES, 241 lard, by being cast out from the family, the cure is to be found in restoring them to the privilege of the family ordinance. It will be found, too, that every effectual means of reclaiming the abandoned and the outcast must contain within it a method of bringing the parties anew under the power of those supports which Providence affords to the continuance in virtue. It may bo doubted, whether the attempts at present made to elevato the abandoned in the crowded lanes of our large towns can be successful, as a national measure, till the very crowding of human beings is abandoned as a system contrary to nature, and until the population are spread out in communities in which the aids to virtue may again come into force. The evils which extended manufactures have brought along with them, must be remedied by the wealth which these manufactures have furnished being taxed to bring about the natural system which they have deranged. In order to secure the co-operation of Providence we must adopt the system of Providence, and place the parties under its influence. Without this, all mere secular means wiU be found utterly useless in elevating human character to a higher level. Human wisdom is in its highest exercise when it is observing the superiority of Divine wisdom, and following its method of procedure. SEOT. IV. — STATE OF SOCIETY WHEN THE AIDS TO VIRTUE AND THF EESTRAINTS UPON VICE ARE WITHDRAWN. We have been pointing out some of the embankments hj which the turbulent stream of human life is kept in its course, some of the rocky barriers by which the waves of this ever- agitated sea are restrained while they lash upon them. Just as the native power of the stream is seen when the embank- ments are swept away, and the irresistible strength of the ocean when its opposing barriers are broken down, so there are times and places in which the usual supports of virtue and correctives of vice are removed, and we behold the true ten- dency of inward humanity. The character of the prisoner is discovered when the keepers are absent. We see the true dis- positions of the children at those corners at which the master's eye is not upon them. Let us examine the workings of human nature, when those Q 242 STATE OF SOCIETY WHEN THE AIDS TO VIRTUE adventitious circumstances which usually prop virtue are rev moved. Take a young. man from a kind and religious homCj transplant him suddenly into a foreign land, and place him there in a state of society in which high moral and religiouB character, instead of being valued and honoured, is rather scoffed at and despised, and operates as a barrier in the way of success. This youth, had he been allowed to remain in the scenes in which he was nurtured, might have been honourable, generous, and apparently pious in his demeanour ; but in the new position in which he finds himself, he can be influenced by none of those considerations derived from prudence and the oversight of kind friends, which befoi'e guided him — and it is possible that, after a brief struggle, he may abandon himself to selfishness, to rapacity, and licentiousness, under every available form. Why this difference ? Because, in the one case, virtuous conduct is aided, and in the other it is left unbefriended. We are not at present inquiring into the actual power which virtue possesses in the human heart ; but it seems certain that there are thousands who court virtue when she has a dowry, who would discover no loveliness in her if she had no attractions beyond her own beauty. The difficulty which the philanthropist experiences in dealing with the outcasts of society, on whom the aids to virtue have lost their power, furnishes another illustration of the same truth. It is not because they are so much worse than others that he finds his work to be so difficult, bijt because motives which ope- rate powerfully upon mankind in general, such as pride, vanity, and a sense of character, have no influence upon them for good. It is now generally acknowledged that, in order to the reclaim- ing of criminals whose terra of punishment is expired, it is abso- lutely necessary to distribute them in society, and in localities in v>hich their previous conduct is unknown, and all that they may come once more under the ordinary motives of humanity. Our philanthropists have thus been brought to acknowledge the "wisdom of the Divine method, and find that their success depends on their accommodating themselves to it. Yet how dark a view is thereby given of human character, when it needs such a care- fully constructed system of props to bear up that virtue which ehould have stood in its own strength 1 The rapidity with which certain persons become utterly reck- AND RESTRAINTS UPON VICE ARE WITHDRAWN. 243 less and abandoned when detected in crime, also points to the $ame conclusion. How quick, for instance, the descent of females, especially of ladies in the upper walks of society, and of the ministers of religion, when they have fallen into inton- perance, impurity, or some similar vice, and been detected and exposed ! Others might fall into the same sins, and rise again ; but the persons now referred to feel as if a stain had been left on their character which human lustrations cannot wash out, and for which society provides no expiation ; and concluding that they cannot be bettered, they are led without difhculty to abandon themselves to every besetting lust. The love of virtue, for virtue's sake, may be as powerful in this class as in others, who have extricated themselves from the toils which at one time surrounded them ; and wherein then lies the difference ? The tendency of both is downward ; but as the one class is roll- ing on, it is caught, and at last restrained, by a thousand objects which Providence puts in the way, such as vanity, sense of character, and worldly success ; whereas, in regard to the other, such bai-riers being removed, their course becomes that of the stone loosened from the brow of the mountain, and descending with an ever accelerated speed. It seems as if virtuous and religious principle were so weak, that the man of highest character might, if placed in other cir- cumstances, have become the most vicious. No one can tell how much he owes of the character which he may have been able to sustain, to the restraints of providence, rather than to any high and holy internal principle. Take either of the extremes of earthly rank, and you find human nature showing its native inclination. It is proverbial that the extremes of wickedness collect at the extremes of society. Place persons so high that they know that they cannot mount higher, for they are on the very pinnacle, and so protect them that they feel that they are secured by their very position from falling, and the true dispositions of man's heart will be exhibited. Weaknesses and follies, which those who climb by the help of other men the heights of worldly aggrandizement would carefully curb or conceal, arc unblushingly displayed, or perhaps even gloried in, by those who feel their independence ; and vices which might have been kept down under a salutary fear of failure are allowed to spring up in rank luxuriance. Or 244 STATE OF SOCIETY WHEN THE AIDS TO VIKTUE take the other extreme. Place man so low that he cannot fall, chain him so down that he cannot rise, and again his inborn character develops itself. The virtues which proceed from a sense of shame and a fear of offence, now disappear, as well as all those whicli originate in a desire to rise in society. Discon- tent and grumbling, envy and malignity, leading to dishonesty and reckless criminality, become the characteristics of this state of society ; just as luxury and licentiousness, indolence and a selfish indifference to all human interests, are the distinguishing features of those who are in the enjoyment of prosperity which cannot be broken. In the one state, society, with its sunk and dangerous classes, spreads crime like a malaria, and is ready for revolution ; while in the other, it abandons itself to the softest and yet most selfish effeminacy, running after every frivolity, ready to contend for nothing but its own pleasures, and to toil for nothing but the retention of its ease. Our earth in the one state becomes bare and barren, and yet wild, rugged, and horrific, with dashing cataracts, and dizzy and headlong precipices ; and in the other state, like the dead swamps of moist tropical climates, polluting the very atmosphere, and spreading disease and death l)y the excess of its putrid and putrefying luxuriance. The times when these adventitious props which keep up society are removed, have generally been times of excessive criminality. Take the seasons v.-hen a nation is intoxicated and maddened by prosperity — take Athens when its free citizens have succeeded in some of their schemes — or Eome when the victorious general distributed the spoils of his conquest — or our own country at the ]'ejoicing on account of the restoration of Charles II,, being the commencement of those scenes which produced so deleterious an influence on the British character in the reign of that monarch. What excess and riot in the festivals at these times ! what an abandonment to folly which does not even deign to wear a mask, or offer the homage which vice usually pays to virtue, by acting the hypocrite ! The pride and intemperance which prevail in our ovm land, when wages are high and trade is flourishing, furnish illustrations of the same tendency in our nature. Both poles, the negative as well as the positive, are surcharged with deleterious influences and fatal power. A nation in ex- (i-eme poverty — abandoned by the stream of wealth which at one time fertilized it — devastated by the inroads of war, or con- AND RESTRAINTS UPON VICE ARE WITHDRAWN. 245 Bumed by intestine broils — wasted by famine, or prostrated by pestilence — has commonly been virulent in its wickedness. {Society at these times acts like the seamen who, when the last hopes of saving themselves in the storm have vanished, betake themselves to a maddening intoxication, and drink of any excit- ing or oblivious draught that may banish reflection. The social affections are dried up for lack of that delicate tenderness which feeds them, and the selfish and malignant ones spring up on the WTCcks of human prosperity, affording them suitable nourish- ment. On those dreadful coasts on which wrecks are for ever strewn, the inhabitants are tempted to light up fires to allure the vessels with their spoils to points at which they may bo stranded, and their goods seized. It is a picture, on a small scale, of those states of society in which men oppressed with want feel that they cannot better their condition by sacrifices to virtue, and may easily improve it by crime. There have been times of upheaval in the moral world similar to those periods which geologists describe, when the boiling igneous fluid from below has uplifted and upturned whole con- tinents and ocean beds which had lain undisturbed for ages. The distinctions of rank, and between one man's property and another's, have disappeared, and, in the confusion, common minds feel a difficulty in keeping hold of the distinction between justice and injustice — so much are their outward badges reversed and confounded. The king is bleeding upon the scaffold ; the nobles are depending on their own peasantry ; judges are pri- soners at the tribunals over Avhich they presided ; the priesthood, so far from having power with heaven, arc seen to be utterly helpless ; cunning is overreaching sincerity ; might is trampling upon right ; unblushing confidence is the surest means of suc- cess ; and bold but mean men are everywhere grasping honour and authority. What would be prudence in ordinary circum- stances is now the highest imprudence, and wisdom with all its gravity is visibly inferior to folly. At these times vice wall come forth without deigning to w^ear the garb of virtue ; it stalks abroad, with its unblushing face unveiled, and its haggard arms laid bare, to find out and seize upon its victims ; and it immo- lates them with the one hand, while it lays hold of the spoil with the other The thefts, the incendiarism, the rapes, the murders, whict 246 STATE OF SOCIETY WHEN. THE AIDS TO VIRTUE ra'e the characteristics of the sacking of a town, have often been recorded by historians. The atrocities and horrors displayed by the crowded inhabitants of Jerusalem at the time of the siege by Titus — the madness, the murders, private and judicial, and the unbridled licentiousness, of the period of upheaval at the French Eevolution, (prostitutes graced all their triumphs, and theatres were open every night during the Eeign of Terror,) have long been the themes of indignant moralists.* More horrific still are the scenes disclosed when plague visits a populous city. Thucydides tells us, that, at the time when it raged at Athens, lawlessness reigned to a greater extent than ever it had done before. When the people saw the sudden changes of fortune, in the case both of those who perished so lamentably in the midst of their prosperity, and of those who before had nothing, and who now came to inherit large possessions, their ideas became confounded and their principles unsettled — they lost all sense of honour, and openly committed deeds which men are wont to hide from the view. Looking upon their properties and lives as so precariously situated, they abandoned themselves to whatever they thought would afford them immediate enjoyment. There was no fear of the gods, the historian tells us, for they felt that they could not be bettered by the worship which they paid ; nor was the law of man regarded, for they saw that human law could not inflict a greater evil than that to which they were now exposed.f During the plague at Milan in 1630, the most atrocious deeds were perpetrated. Persons named monatti were authorized to enter any house and inspect it, and were employed to carry the sick to the Laaaretto, and the dead to the sepulchre ; these men, becoming hardened in heart and blunted in feeling by their horrible office, came forth from the Lazaretto with feathers in their caps and singing merry songs, threw the dead into the carts as if they had been sacks of grain, and entered the houses of the infected for the purposes of extortion and * " Paris," says Madame Roland, " sees its brutalized population either running after ridiculous fetes, or surfeiting themselves with the blood of crowds of unhappy creatures sacrificed to its ferocious jealousy ; while selfish idlers still fill all the theatres, and the trembling tradesman shuts himself up in his own house, not sure of ever again sleeping in his own bed, if it should please any of his neighbours to ilenounce him as having used unpatriotic expressions." All through the Reign of Terror there were thirteen or fourteen theatres advertised daily in the newspapers. + B. ii. 53. AND RESTIIA.INTS UPON VICE ARE WITHDRAWN. 247 plunder ; while many, perceiving that the trade was lucrative, assumed the dress of these officials, and were guilty of robbery and the most shameful excesses. During the plague in London in 1665, there were numbers running with avidity to astrologers and fortune-tellers, who plied their work with more than their usual effrontery and success ; others who made a boast of their jirofanity, and sported their blasphemy ; there were reports of nurses and watchmen hastening the dissolution of the diseased, in order to get possession of their property ; and there was more than the common number of thieves and robbers, and these busy at their unhallowed work in the chambers and about the very persons of the dead and dying. In a desolating plague at Bagdad in 1831, there were the usual robbery and pillage ; and it is stated, that when, towards its close, the river inun- dated and swept away 15,000 people, the sensibilities of the survivors were so deadened, that the event passed without any remark being made, and without an attempt to relieve the sufferers. It looks as if with but a little more prosperity distributed among mankind on the one hand, or with a little more adversity on the other, it would have been all but impossible, by the ordinary means fit to be addressed to moral and respoisible beings, to keep this world in subordination. The appalling wickedness which prevailed at Rome in the reigns of the em- perors who succeeded Julius Ctesar, the abandoned shamelessness of the males and females of the flpper classes, seem to show, that if mankind generally were placed in a situation in which every lust could be indulged without restraint, they would soon give themselves up to crime the most offensive and intolerable. " The corrupt and opulent nobles," says Gibbon, " gratified every vice that could be collected from the mighty conflux of nations and manners. Secure of impunity, careless of censure, they lived without restraint in the patient and humble society of their slaves and parasites. The emperor, in his turn, viewing every rank of his subjects with the same contemptuous indifference, asserted without control his sovereign pleasure of lust and luxury."* On the other hand, the history of individuals, of cities, and nations in the time of famines and plagues, shows that, with more intense suffering, the race would have been a* * Decline and Fall, B. vi 248 SOCIETY AS UNINFLUENCED BY MOEAL MOTIVES. if '• drunken with wormwood," With a sky but a little more bright and fiery, or a little more clouded, the plants of the earth would wither ; with an atmosphere possessing a little more or a little less of the vital element, the living creatures would perish ; and it would seem as if, with a little more or a little less suffer- ing in the world, man would lead an existence now troubled and now prostrated, in the alternate violence and exhaustion of a fever. Such facts seem to indicate what would have been the state of the world, if mankind, as a whole, had been placed nearer the one extreme or the other. In the actual world there is a check upon both these extremes, but a check effectual* only because they are extremes. There are means, in the circumambient conductors, of allowing an escape to the dangerous power which may collect at either pole. The indolence and luxuriousness of the prosperous classes, as seen, for instance, in the courts of Eastern kings, has no vitality in it, and it putrefies like the vegetation of warmer climates. Again, the sterner evils which proceed from poverty, from discontent, and suffering, clash and fight till they destroy each other and disappear. The extremes thus contain their own checks within themselves — both are suicidal; while the mean is kept in a healthy state by the skilful counteractions of God's natural providence. The conclusion is now f?)rcing itself upon us, that virtue, so called, may be upheld fully as much by the providence of God as by the strength of any inherent principle within ; and that this world is kept from inextricable confusion by a thousand minute arrangements — as the ocean is held in its bed by a boundary of particles of sand. And what must be the character and condition of our race when these restraints are withdrawn, as they must be in the other world ? Some sensitive minds shrink from the very idea of a place of darkness to which the wicked are consigned. But when the bad are separated from the good, and are under no restraint, we cannot conceive how there should be anything else than hopeless madness and violence. Men need only to be abandoned by God to create before the time a hell on this earth. There may be a time coming in our world's history when, these restraints being removed, human wickedness shall reign without control ; when the convulsions hitherto confined tc ADAPTATION OF THIS WORLD TO MAN AS FALLEN, 249 particular spots shall become extensive as the world ; and when such scenes as those presented in the fell of Jerusalem, at the close of the Jewish dispensation, shall be acted on a larger theatre, with all men as tictors, and the universe as spectators. It has often been remarked, that revolutions accomidish in tho moral world what thunder-storms do in the natural world ; and it has been observed by Niebuhr, that plagues, such as that at Athens in the time of Pericles, and at Rome in the age of M. Aurelius, are the termination of one course of things and tho commencement of another ; and it is conceivable that this present dispensation of things may terminate in a convulsion, which is to be the forerunner of that era of peace which is to close our world's history. The pillars on which this present imperfect dispensation is supported may be pulled down, to bury in the ruins all that is evil, and as the precursor of a period of peace and glorious liberty. SECT. V. — ADAPTATION OF THIS WORLD TO MAN, CONSIDERED AS A FALLEN BEING. We now return to a subject which came frequently before us in the first book. Let us inquire what light the arrangements of heaven, which we have been considering, throw upon the character of man, or rather upon the view which God seems to take of the character of man. We are aware that the argument cannot be conclusive, till we take a separate survey of human nature on independent evidence. But still it may be confirma- tory of the inferences to be drawn in the subsequent book, to find all other roads leading to the same point — all the lines converging to one centre. It is not needful to repeat what was said in the first book as to the various indications given in God's works of a holy God, a moral governor, and a fallen world. We feel now, however, as if, after the survey taken, we were able to bring new considerations, and old considerations with new force, to support the doctrine which then recommended itself on the ground of general probability. Looking at the arrangements which God hath made in the physical world, we find them to be actually employed in guid- ing and restraining mankind. Looking at their structure and organization, we find i\\QmJitted to accomplish these ends. We 250 ADAPTATION OF THIS WORLD TO MAN", are entitled, then, to conclude that they are intended to c{f ward off evils ready to attack him, as the Kamschatkan must exercise himself to keep his frame warm ; but why ? because both one and other are in an ungcnial clime. We know that it is or- dained of God that a certain amount of pleasure should attend on labour ; but still, it is by a kind of after-appointment, and as a recompence for evil, as Venus was given to Vulcan ; and the union, after all, is far from being close or constant. Acknowledging the necessity for such evils, we ask, Whence the necessity ? In the very nature of things, says some one. We meet the declaration by a direct contradiction. Surely it is possible for God to create and govern a world in which there are no such necessary evils, because there is no evil at all. Whence, we again ask, this necessity ? From the state and character ot man, is the answer to which we must at last come. Such is the native temper and spirit of man, that if not constrained to be busy, he would be wretched and vicious beyond endurance. Such is the very nature of man, that wars, pestilences, and famines, are necessary to prevent evils greater than themselves. But what a dark and melancholy picture is tims given of the heart and tendencies of man ! God indicates the view he takes of man's character by the way in which he treats him. How fearful the disease which requires such remedies ! How daring the criminality which demands from a God, whose benevolence is infinite, such chains to bind, such prison walls to confine it ! The evils must be great beyond measurement, which demand evils acknowledged to be so great to counteract and punish them. SECT. YI. — EXPLANATION OF THE MYSTERIES OF DIVINE PROVI- DENCE FURNISHED BY THE SINFULNESS OF MAN's CHARACTER. " One would imagine," says the representative of scepticism, in Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion,* " that this world had not received the last hand of the Maker, so little finished is every part, and so coarse are the strokes with which it is exe- cuted. Thus the winds arc requisite to convey the vapours along the surface of the globe, and to assist men in navigation j * Part XI. B 258 THE MYSTEKIES OF PROVIDENCE but how oft, rising up to tempests and hurricanes, do they become pernicious ! Eains are necessary to nourish all the plants and animals of the earth ; but how often are they defec- tive ! — how often excessive ! Heat is requisite to all life and vegetation, but it is not always found in due proportion. On the mixture and secretion of the humours and juices of the body depend the health and prosperity of the animal ; but the parts perform not regularly their proper function." A living philoso- pher of a different school, founding on such observations, boldly declares, that even human wisdom could improve the universe, which he therefore maintains can afford no proof of Divine wisdom ; and, as evidence of his assertion, he refers to certain delicate organs of the body, as the eye and liver, so apt to go wrong, and which could easily have had substituted for them an organ not liable to disease. " It cannot be doubted, as it appears to me, that scientific genius, even in biology, is suffi- ciently developed and emancipated to enable us to conceive after the laws of biology of certain organizations which differ notably from all those which we know, and which shall be incontestably superior to them in the point of view in question, without these ameliorations being inevitably compensated in other respects by equivalent imperfections."* The common answer to these ob- jections, that the evils referred to are the incidental results of general laws good in themselves, we cannot hold to be adequate ; for we have seen that God can arrange his general laws so as to make one law counteract the evil that would flow from the unbending operation of another. As Hume remarks, " A being who knows the secret springs of the universe might easily, by particular volitions, turn all these accidents to the good of man- kind." We must regard these supposed evils as following from the arrangements of heaven, just as much as the physical bless- ings. We must see God in the hurricane as well as in the gentler breezes — in the floods as well as the softer showers — in the scorching drought as well as in the genial heat — in disease as well as in health. So far as these evils are merely physical, or bear a physical aspect, or are connected with other physical phenomena, they are not evils. In itself, and apart from its relation to man, on whom it may inflict pain, or whose plans it may disturb, the tempest is no more an evil than the * Philosophic Positive, vol. iii. p. 4C3, EXPLAINED BY THE SINFULNESS OF MAN, 259 calm. It is simply in their reference, to man, that these parts of nature become apparent evils. Now, we think that we may- discover in the nature and character of man, in reference to whom it is supposed that they are evils, the ground ou which the infliction of them proceeds. Such is the character of man, that it is needful to have the storm as well as the zephyr — the drought and the deluge as well as the beneficent shower — sudden failures in our bodily organism and lengthened disease, as well as health and the buoyant flow of the animal spirits. Does it not appear as if the mysteries of the physical government of God could be all explained by their reference to the character of man ? We wonder that there should be such sudden calamities and judicial inflictions. But the true wonder would be, the character of man being thus degraded, were God to rule this world as if it had never fiillen. All these occurrences seem strange and mysterious, only on the supposition that man is spotlessly pure. Take with us the fact that man has rebelled against God, and these difficulties instantly vanish. Two evils exist in this world — the one physical and the other moral — the evil of pain and the evil of sin. We discover that these are evils by the very constitution of the human mind, which shrinks from pain and condemns transgression. Of these two, physical evil is the one which seems to bear hardest against the Divine government. Not that it is the worse of the two, but it is the one with which God has the most immediate con- cern. The blame of the moral evil may undoubtedly be cast on the individual who commits it. To deny this, is to deny the nossibility of free agency and responsibility on the part of the creature. It is surely possible for God to give free agency to an intelligent creature, such free agency as implies accountability ; and the creature, so endowed, cannot throw the blame of the sin he commits upon another. But the infliction of pain proceeds directly from God ; and the blame of it, if blame there be, must lie upon him. He who would justify the ways of God to man, must lie careful to defend the Divine government at the point at which suSering is inflicted. While led to regard both pain and sin as evils, the mind looks upon them in two very different lights. It avoids the one, but it pronounces its condemnation upon the other. Not only so, but it announces in a way not to be misunderstood, that 260 THE MYSTERIES OF PKOVIDENCE physical evil is the natural consequence and punishment of moral evil. The guilty man stands in constant fear of a penalty to follow ; and the conscience approves of appropriate punish- ment being inflicted on sin. Such is the very constitution of man's nature. It not only declares sin to be an evil, and pain to be an evil, but declares that the one is the proper punish- ment of the other. It seems, then, as if we could free ourselves from many of the difficulties connected with the infliction of pain, provided we could refer it to moral evil as its source. This, we are aware, is widely different from the view adopted by the superficial thinkers of this age. They justify the infliction of suffering on the ground of its ultimately producing a greater amount of happiness ; and they speak as if happiness were the only good, and pain the only evil. But certainly this is not the doctrine sanctioned by the intuitive and fundamental principles of man's nature. Place man in a position in which he must choose between sin and pain, and the conscience will at once announce that the latter should be the alternative adopted. The mind, in short, declares that there is a greater good than mere happiness, and a greater evil than pain, and that suffering is the appropriate punishment of transgression. The spirit of the present age is muck opposed to everything lounitive. It is the natural recoil of the human mind from the barbarities, the cruelty, and reveuge of former generations. The general rule is now laid down, that human punishment ought to be strictly reformatory, and have in view solely the welfare of the individual and of society. We are not disposed to cavil at this principle. We tremble at the idea of man being made the avenger of the laws of the Governor of the universe. The magistrate has no doubt a delegated power from heaven ; but it were as safe, to say the least of it, in him to confine its exercise within the limits prescribed by the principle that the reforma- tion of society should be his end and aim. But there is a j)re- vious inquiry. Is it allowable that the magistrate punish except ivlien punishment is deserved? We hold it to be demonstrable, that he is not at liberty to punish, unless a crime meriting pun- ishment has been committed. He is not permitted, it is mani- fest, to inflict pain merely for the good of society ; to visit, for example, with imprisonment or death, an individual who has innocently committed an injurious act. True it is that he does EXPLAINED BY THE SINFULNESS OF MAN. 2G1 not punish sin, simply as sin, (for this is the prerogative of y nature is much the same as that of one who had produced a sinful state of will Uy previous sinful acts. This prepares us to believe, on the authority of the Word of God, in a relation of our sinful nature to the common father of the race — which farther fact, however, is not fitted to remove tlie mystery. All such inquiries, too, conduct us to a slavery of the will — a fact which cannot be incon- sistent with its essential freedom. The doctrines of the Old Light school of theolo- gians on these subjects seem to us substantially correct, tiiough they have at times set forth dogmatic statements which go beyond the letter of the Word — and on such a subject human logic may err the moment it passes beyond the simple 378 THEOKY OF THE PKODUCTIOX OF phenomena, which we are enabled to explain, and these among the most curious in the human mind. First, we see how, on such a hypothesis, there is room for the exercise of all the faculties of man's nature, and also for an ex- hibition of the individual character of individual men, and for a variety of character on the part of mankind generally. In the fall of man, much the same effects have followed as we read of being produced by earthquakes, which have turned rectilineal alleys into crooked ones, changed the courses of rivers, and thrown one man's property upon another ; or as have been pro- duced in those metamorphic geological rocks Avhich have changed their structure without changing their elements. There has been a similar twisting of the hunfan character in the fall, with- out, however, the constitution of man's nature being annihilated. Its faculties do not work as before ; but still they work, though in a new way, as we see all the vital functions of those who have been deformed from the womb playing in them as in persons of full form and stature. The man of high ability will be a man of high ability still ; the man of deep sensibility will still have a foinitain of emotion ready to flow out. There may still be shrewd observation, lofty speculation, consecutive argument, fine fancy, bold imagination, tender sensibility, and elevated senti- ment. Without any godliness, and with a mind utterly per- verted, there may be ingenuity, like that of Hume — acutenesSj like that of Voltaire — a noble independence of sentiment, like that of Burns — a sensibility as tender as that of Eousseau — a reach of fancy like that of Shelley — or a power of anatomizing the human heart, as profound as that of Byron. Secondly, we see how there may be many amiable and even noble and generous qualities in man's fallen nature. Just as the disordered machine may perform many graceful evolutions, shewing what it could do if properly regulated ; just as the maniac may sometimes reason correctly, or even exhibit biilliant intellectual feats : so a disordered moral nature is not incom- explicatioii (analytic not synthetic) of Scripture language. Of this we are certain, that the New Light school have not, by all their theories, let in a single ray of liglit on the darkness. But we must not allow ourselves to enter too far into a topic which cannot be treated fully without entei-ing upon Biblical Theology. We have gone so far in order to shew, that in Ethics, as in a thousand questions in Physics, we must often rest satisfied with knowing the fact without knowing its o^-igin, ground, or explanation. THE EXISTING MORAL STATE OF MAN 379 patible with tlie exercise of a hundred pleasing accomplishments, and the working of not a few disinterested and benevolent affections. The theory now developed also serves to explain a third very important class of phenomena, which we would now proceed to consider, being the workings of conscience in the soul of fallen man. SECT. VI. — STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE IN THE DEPRAVED NATURE. It is very difficult to determine, in a precise and philosophical manner, wherein the conscience in man's existing nature differs, in respect of place and authority, from the conscience in those beings in whom it subordinates every other faculty and feeling. There is little difficulty, indeed, in proving that man's moral nature is in a state of derangement, and that the moral faculty has not the power which it ought to possess. It is as easy to demonstrate that there is disorder in man's moral state as to shew that there is derangement in the intellect of the lunatic. In some cases we could bring proof of the madman's insanity sufficient to convince for the time the intellect of the madman himself. We can in every case make the conscience decide that man's moral nature is disorganized. We can constrain every man to condemn himself, just as the people of England made the most infamous of their judges (Jeffreys) write a warrant for his own apprehension. But it becomes a much more diffi- cult task to shew wherein this disorder precisely consists, as difficult as io determine wherein intellectual derangement lies — a question which has hitherto baffied the most sagacious observers. It is a common way of accounting for the anomalies in man's moral state to say, in a loose and general way, that the con- science has lost its control over the other faculties of the human mind. Now, it is quite true that the conscience has lost its proper control, but it has not lost all power. On the contrary, it is in some respects as active and energetic as ever. It works not the less powerfully because it works destructively, A court of justice peiTcrted into a court of injustice may be as active ia its latter as in its former capacity. The Court of Inquisition in 380 STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE IN Spain, the Star-Chamber and the Court of High Commission in the reign of the Stuarts in our own country, and the Tribunals in Paris in the Keign of Terror, were as busily employed, and as potent, as the most righteous courts that ever sat in tho same kingdoms. It is not conceivable that the conscience should ever cease to exist in the breast of any responsible agent ; cer- tain it is, that in man's present nature it often wields a tremen- dous energy. Misery never reaches its utmost intensity till it comes to be inflicted by the scourges of an accusing conscience. Wickedness never becomes so unrelenting as when it seems to have received the sanction of moral laAv. What might other- wise have been a mere impulse of blind passion becomes now persevering and systematic villany or cruelty. Not unfrequently it assumes the shape of cool-blooded persecution, committed without reluctance and without remorse. The conscience now shows what had been its power for good if properly exercised, and how it can bear down and subordinate all the other and mere sympathetic feelings of the mind. The cruelty inflicted in times of political convulsion furnishes a too apposite illustration. It becomes so great just because it has taken the name of justice, and seems to be the avenger of the trampled rights of men, whether of princes or people. Besides feelings of personal revenge, there has been an idea of supporting the rights of sovereigns, and the cause of social order, in those dreadful injuries which tyrants have inflicted on their subjects who, in fact or appearance, were disposed to rebellion. It was because they were esteemed the enemies of the libertien of the people that so many were hurried to ,the prison and the guillotine during the frenzy of the French Eevblution ; and it is certain that some of the most prominent actors in the most atrocious scenes, such as Robespierre, were not naturally cruel. Oppression, whether exercised by the many or the few, has never been intensely severe till it has assumed the name, and professes to assert and avenge the rights, of justice ; and it now becomes so unrelenting, just because it does everything in the name of law and conscience. We have heard of the bitterness of legalized tyranny, that is, of tyranny legalized by civil law ; but this is nothing to the severity which claims to be consecrated by moral law. The persecution becomes tenfold* more bitter and unrelenting THE DEPRAVED NATUKE. 381 when, instead of the name of justice, it can take to itself the still more sacred name of religion, and the actors imagine that they are promoting higher interests tlian those of man, and doing service to God. " The apotheosis of error," says Bacon, " is the greatest evil of all," Take the following illustration of the two species of cruelty. In one of the instructive incidents of the French Kevolution, we have the record of a lady of rank, (mother of the Marquis de Custine,) assaulted by an infernal mob as she was descending the stairs of the building in which her father-in-law was being tried. "It is the daughter of the traitor!" (observe bowmen must first defiirae those whom they injure,) was the language which, mingled with horrid imprecations, reached her ears. Already some, with naked swords, had placed themselves before her ; others, half clothed, had caused their W'Omen to draw back — a certain sign that murder was about to be enacted ; and she felt that the first symptom of weakness betrayed by her would be the symptom of her death. At this crisis, she observed a fisher-woman among the foremost of the crowd. The woman, who was revolting in appearance, held an infant in her arms. The lady approached her, and said, "What a sweet babe you have!" "Take it," replied the parent, who understood her by one word and glance ; " you can return it to me at the foot of the steps." With the child in her arms, the lady descended into the court, unsaluted by even an abusive w^ord,* It is a picture of the scenes of a political convulsion ; and we discover in it the working of an unenlightened conscience, and a perverted sense of wrong, mak- ing the actors to clothe their victims in imaginary guilt, before treating them as guilty. Mingled with this perverted moral feeling, we discover sympathetic feelings, more particularly in the female bosom ; and we observe these feelings gaining over the very conscience at first perverted, and leading the most brutal to act in a becoming manner, when their feelings of compassion are in the right direction. The massacre of St. Bartholomew exhibits a still darker scene, and one as characteristic of a religious (so-called) as the other is of a political convulsion. A ruthless murderer lays hold of an infant, and while holding it, the babe smiles in his face, and begins to play with his beard ; but it is to no purpose, for the * Introd. of Custine's Emp. of Czar. 382 STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE IN dagger is instantly plunged into the child's breast, and the body is cast into the river amidst the jeers of an infuriated populace, who are crying out, " Where is now your God ? What is become of all your psalms and prayers now ?" The scene that follows is not less characteristic. A" crowd of persons have assembled before the gates of the church at Lyons, and are waiting on their knees the return of an ecclesiastical dignitary, who had been paying his devotions in the interior of the building. They are the very persons who had been perpetrating wholesale murders or inciting the murderers ; and now they are waiting the absolution and blessing of the cardinal. As he approaches, they bend their heads in lowliest adoration ; and he lifts up his hands, and grants them forgiveness and the blessing of heaven. The cries of the murdered are forgotten by the mob as they retire ; their minds inhaling the incense of an apparently approving conscience, which seems to point to an approving God. Such facts as these show that whatever may be the fault of the conscience, it has not lost its' power. While man's moral nature is completely disorganized, it has lost none of its essential elements. The conditions of responsibility seem to be conscience, will, and intelligence — the conscience being the law, the will the agent, and the intelligence the means of announcing the state of the case to the law. The will, as the agent, is the immediate seat of good or evil, and all evil may be traced primarily in it. But the will, if depraved, will soon come to sway the intelligence, and the intelligence gives a false report to the conscience, which utters, in consequence, a false judgment. If this view is correct, then we see that the moral disorder, beginning in the will, lies all along essentially in the will, which corrupts the intelligence, which, again, deceives the conscience. As long as the will is corrupt, the intelligence will be perverted, and the conscience deluded. Give us but a corrected will, and the intelligence will give in faithful reports, and the conscience will become an unerr- ing guide. "And here we may take occasion to observe the misery of man's corrupted nature, wherein those faculties which were originally ordained for mutual assistance, do now exercise a mutual imposture ; and as man did join with a fellow-creature to dishonour, and if it had been, possible to deceive his Maker, 80 in the fliculties of man, we may discover a joint conspiracy in THE DEPRAVED NATURE. 383 the working of their own overthrow and reproach, and a secret joy in one to he deceived hy another."* There are two ways by which the mind, in its vohintaiy action, contrives to deceive the conscience. First, It contrives to hanish, as much as possihle, the remem- brance of the sinful acts committed. When men go to sleep, they darken their windows ; and when the guilty wish to be undisturbed, they shut out all consideration of the evil they have done. The polluting lusts that were fondled, so long as they could communicate pleasure, are now banished out of sight when they have served their purpose ; as the embalmers in ancient Egypt — sent for, in the first instance, with avidity — had to flee as fast as they could after their offensive work was completed. The malignant passions, after being gratified, must keep out of sight, as hired assassins are got rid of after they have done the deed. Secondly, the mind learns to present the deeds which it wishes to do or to avoid in a false light. Certain features are brought out into prominent relief, and others are as studiously hid from the view. Hence we find multitudes rushing eagerly to what is evil, but carefully keeping the more painful part out of sight, as the priests in Mexico rung the gong to drown the cries of the human victims offered in sacrifice. From these two, and it may be from other causes, we find the conscience operating in a number of perverted ways in the human breast. First, there is an unenlightened conscience. The mind makes no inquiry into the objects presented to it ; but taking them as they come, the conscience decides upon them as they cast up. Persons under this influence act according to the prevailing views of their age and country, without making any nice inquiry into their accuracy. They follow religiously the superstitions of their country ; they practise faithfully the virtues of their family or tribe — be they hospitality, or courage, or whatever else ; and they allow themselves to fall into the vices that abound around them — it may be intemperance or revenge — and they scarcely feel any compunctions in consequence. It is the least sinful f )rm which the conscience takes in fallen man. Yet it is not without sin. The mind avoids inquiry, because it * Bishop Rejnolds on the AfFectiona. 384 STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE IN does not wish to be disturbed. It is in darkness, because it prefers the darkness to the hght. The conscience, in such persons, loses all delicacy of perception and touch ; and the possessor does good without doing it as good, and evil without knowing that it is evil. Secondly, there is a perverted conscience. This form differs from the other only in degree. It is a farther stage of the same malady. There is now not only ignorance, there is positive mistake. Nor is it difficult, proceeding on the principles above developed, to discover how the conscience should come to pronounce judgments which are positively erroneous. Under the influence of prejudice and passion, the mind views every object only under some one, and that a very partial, aspect. Objects really loved on other grounds come in imagination to be invested with qualities which do not belong to them ; and we are led, not only to desire, but to justify ourselves in desiring them. Men will fight for persons and causes altogether unworthy ot esteem, because they identify them with something that is good, and they will do so with unflinching fidelity and the deepest devotedness, thinking that they do God service. On the other hand, when they are under the feeling of malice or revenge, all the actions of the obnoxious party will be seen as through broken and coloured crystal. " It would be curious to see how a respectful estimate of a man's character and talents might be changed, in consequence of some personal inattention experi- enced from him, into deprecating invectives against him or his intellectual performances ; and the railer, though actuated solely by petty revenge, account himself all the while the model of equity and sound judgment."* Having succeeded in represent- ing those whom we dislike in jaundiced colours and distorted forms, we feel as if we were not only allowed, but justified, in the opposition offered them. Malignity never becomes deep or bitter, till it has succeeded in calling in the conscience ; and men feel as if they did right to be angry. Mankind always misre- present those whom they hate, as Nero clothed with the skins of wild beasts those on whom he let loose the dogs that tore them to pieces, and covered with pitch those that were consumed by the flames. In consequence of these aberrations, willing in the first in- * Foster on a Man's Writing Memoirs of Himself. THE DEPRAVED NATURE. 385 stance, the mind lapses into a hopelessly perverted state, calling good evil, and evil good. A deep but somewhat gloomy thinlicr, John Foster, says, " It were probably absurd to expect that any mind should itself be able to detect all its own obliquities, after having been so long beguiled, like the mariners in a stoiy which I have read, who followed the direction of their compass, infal- libly right, as they could have no doubt, till they arrived at an enemy's port, where they were seized and made slaves. It hap- pened that the wicked captain, in order to betray the ship, had concealed a largo loadstone at a little distance on one side of the needle."* The illustration is most apposite of the constant power of a sinful will, like this concealed loadstone, to draw aside the conscience from its proper bearing, and to lead the possessor astray while he thinks he is holding on in the right direction. We can thus account for the extraordinary perversions of moral feeling by which certain religious sects are characterized. The delusion caused in individuals by their personal idiosyncrasy, or the influence of accidental circumstances, is produced in these sects by a skilfully arranged system, the prime movers in which deceive others by the same means by which they were themselves deceived. In all such cases it may be reinarkcd, that there are two necessary means employed — there is an acknowledged virtue placed on the foreground before the mind, and there is a course of training. By this virtue the moral faculty is gained ; and by the training, the mind is taught to look at this virtue, and to the advantages flowing from its exercise, while other and offensive aspects are studiously kept out of view. Thus, in the Society of Jesus there are placed before the mind the duty of serving Christ, the virtue of submission to a superior, and the advantages thence accruing of centralization, and the energy of united action ; and then there is a system of discipline, with a studious secrecy, and disclosures according as the parties are able to bear them. In Thuggeiy, it was proclaimed that the sacrifice of human life is sacred to the Goddess of Destruction, and that the strangled go to Paradise, and none were allowed to witness the horrid rites till the third year of their apprenticeship. These are the workings of the conscience, in regard to its more direct oflSce of pointing out the path of duty. In its more r^ * Foster on a Man's Writing Memoirs of IlimseIC 2B 386 STATE OF THE CONSCIENCE IN flex operation, as judging of the past cliaracter of the possessor, it may assume one or other of two forms, as — Thirdly there is an unfaithful conscience, or a conscience which does not inform man of his sins. It is the most dangerous of all its delusions. It arises from the painful nature of the emotions which the contemplation of sin calls up, and the eflfort which the mind makes to avoid or deaden the sensation. Hence the unwillingness to look seriously at the evil committed ; henco the attempt to keep it out of sight, and to bury it, if possible, in forgetfulness. There issue from all this a deceitfulness of heart, and a cast of character completely opposed to that which we describe expressively as single-minded. These self-delusions may be observed not only in those who are possessed of superior abilities and great acuteness, but even in clowns and simpletons. Those who have no other talent are often proverbial for the exercise of a kind of cunning which displays itself in hiding their faults from others, and which is derived, we are convinced, from the skill which they have acquired in deluding them selves. Persons who have long practised this habit of self- deception come at last to look upon themselves with the most complacent self-satisftiction. The greatest criminals have been known to pass years of their life without being visited with any very deep or conscious convictions of conscience. If certain persons can thus commit the most heinous crimes without lieing much troubled with the consciousness of sin, it is worthy of being inquired whether it is not in consequence of a general property of man's nature operating in the breasts of all, and leading them to conceal their sins from themselves. Does it not seem as if, through this human characteristic, ,all mankind might be sinners, and lying under the displeasure •of God, while yet utterly unconscious of their awful and peril- ous state .^ The great body of mankind, in ordinary circumstances, are wonderfully little troubled with reproaches of conscience — as little, we believe, as the Jesuit is in practising deceit, and the Thug in perpetrating his murders, and for a like reason — the conscience has been so muffled that no warning sound can come from it. Some have gone down to yet greater depths, far beneath the reach of any disturbing sound — like those depths of the ocean which are beneath all agitation, but in which there THE DEPRAVED NATURE. 387 is no life — like those coal-i)its into which it is impossible to ilraw the air, and in which all life must perish. Fourthly, there is a troubled conscience. Southey, in one of his poems, tells ns of a bell — which had been suspended on a rock, that the sound given as the waves beat upon it might warn the mariner of the propinquity to danger — having had its rope cut by pirates, because of the warning which it uttered. It 'so happened, however, that at a future period these very pirates struck upon that rock which they had stript of its means of ad- monishing them. Which things may be unto us for an allegory. Mankind take pains to stifle the voice that would admonish them, and they partially succeed, but it is only to find them- selves sinking at last in misery thereby more fearfully augmented. There are violent and convulsive movements of self-reproach which will at times break in upon the self-satisfaction of the most complacent, Man's peace is in this respect like the sultry heat of a summer's day ; it is close and disagreeable at the time, and ever liable to be broken in upon by the thunders and tem- pests of the Divine indignation. EVen in the case of those who are anxious to keep their attention turned away as much as pos- sible from themselves, and as little as possible upon the state of their hearts, there will occur intervals unfilled up between the scenes that engross them, and on these occasions there will be recollections called up which occasion the keenest misery. It may be after a day of selfish business, or an evening of sinful excitement, that such unwelcome visitations are paid to them to disturb their rest, while others have buried their cares in the forgetfuluess of sleep. Or it may be, iu the time of disease, or in the prospect of death, that the ghosts of deeds committed long ago spring up as from the grave. These gloomy fears pio- ceeding from conscious guilt always rise up like a ghostly appa- rition, never in the sunshine of prosperity, but always in the gloom of adversity, to render the darkness more horrific. The wicked are thus, in the time of prosperity, heaping up accumu- lated sorrow, to aggravate the scenes of misery through which they must at last pass. They are vainly attempting to stop the current altogether by a feeble mound, which, as it gives way, lets in the deep waters upon the soul with the power of an over- whelming flood. A number of circumstances combine to force sin upon tiie 388 STATE OF THE CONSCIEKCE IN notice, even when there is a general desire to overlook it. Ex- ternal objects and events may frequently make it pass in review before the spectator. More commonly it is excited feeling that fixes it constantly before the mind, so that, turn itself as it may, it ever sees the deed standing out in colours of flame, like a lurid light glaring in the midst of darkness, and attracting the eye, though only to pain and annoy it. A crime long concealed from the public gaze has at length, let us suppose, been detected,* the indignation of the whole community is excited, and the finger of reproach is pointed at the perpetrator. It is manifest, that he cannot now banish the recollection of the offence so con- stantly or effectually as he was wont. It will rise up anew with every feeling of wounded vanity, and whenever he is exposed to studied neglect or insult. We can account, on precisely the same principles, for a seeroingly contradictory phenomenon — the great annoyance given by the conscience in cases in which con- stant exertion requires to be made to keep the crime concealed. The very attempt at concealment, according to the natural law of association, must keep the deed perpetually before the mind, to awaken the conscience and madden the soul. The man who has such a fearful secret to keep has a fire in his bosom which he is " gathering to keep it warm ;" and he would not be lacer- ated by the lash of public reprobation so fearfully as by these scorpions of his own exasperated conscience. The sin is also kept before the mind, and the conscience troubled, when there is any circumstance connected with the commission of the sin which is fitted to excite the social and sympathetic emotions. When the shrieks of the murdered, for instance, ring for years in the ears of the murderer, the mind cannot but be in a state of constant restlessness — the burning centre of the most intense anguish. In other cases, the troubling of the conscience is produced, we can scarcely tell how, by the state of the nervous system, or by an accidental event, recalling the deed committed to oblivion, or by a sudden flashing of some willingly forgotten scene upon the mind, revealing, like the lightning's glare at night, dreadful depths of darkness. In regard to such phenomena, we may know what are the general laws ; though it may be as difficult to condescend upon the specific causes, as it is to tell the imme- diate cause of the raising this gust of wind, or of this cloudy THE DEPRAVED NATURE. 380 atmosphere, of both of which we may know perfectly \Yhat arc the general means of their producticti. The swelling of the passions has often been compared very appropriately to that of the waves of the ocean. The reproaches of conscience bear a greater resemblance to the ground siuell, thus described by an eloquent scientific female writer : — " It continues to heave the smooth and glassy surface of the deep, long after the winds and billows are at rest. A swell frequently comes from a quarter in direct opposition to the wind, and sometimes from various points of the compass at the same time, producing a vast commotion in a dead sea w'ithoiit ruffling the surftice. They are the heralds that point out to the mariner the distant region where the tempest has howled, and they are not unfrequently the h.arbingers of its approach."* Every word of this description might be applied to those reproaches, which, coming from various quarters, and rising at a great distance, move the soul far beneath the surface, and tell at once of sin that may be long past, and of storms yet to arise. Sometimes these reproaches are but momentary flashes, extin- guished in darkness ; at other times they are a constant firing. Human misery is consummated, when the gnawings become constant, eating like a cancer ever inwards. The memory of sin is now the only object on which the mind can fix. The con- science unceasingly chides, and all its chidings are prolonged and repeated, as by surrounding echoes. An avenging power i.s seen ever hovering over the soul, like a bird of prey over its victim. Who can describe to others the pain produced, when these con- victions coil around the mind as serpents coiled around Lao- coon ? Nor can any change of scene or position lessen or distract the misery. You may recommend scenes of mirth and amuse- ment ; but their very music grates upon the ear, and is as the " singing of songs to a heavy heart." You may recommend the beauties of nature— the bracing breeze, and the gladdening sun- shine— the stream, fitted to make the heart to leap as lively as itself — tlie mountain, whose air becomes purer and more ethereal as we rise higher and higher, elevating the spirits as we ascend, and expanding the mind as the prospect widens — or the ocean, the fight and sound of which are ever as fresh to the exhausted spirit as the breeze which blows from it is to the exhausted body ; * Sommerville's Physical Geography. 390 RESTRAINTS LAID UPON MAN but it is all to no purpose ; for when there is music in the ear, there is discord in the heart — when there is glad sunshine with- out, there is darkness within. It is the world within that needs to be rectified, and then it will gladden the world without, as by a perpetual sunshine streaming upon it. But this rectification must proceed from a higher power than the perverted mind of man. SECT. VII. — RESTRAINTS LAID UPON MAN BY THE CONSCIENCE — THEIR EXTENT AND CHARACTER. Though man is fallen, there is abundant scope for the exer- cise of many of the original properties of his nature. Every one acknowledges, for instance, that there is room for the play of the ingenuity and fancy in man's existing nature, and that the sym- pathetic and social affections may be as strong and lively as ever. We maintain, farther, that in not a few cases, the conscience is making its power felt in the way of instigating to what is good, and restraining from what is evil. It cannot be denied, that great and beneficial ends are produced in the government of the world by the exercise of this faculty, weak and imperfect though it be. But let us properly understand in what sense, and under what restrictions, the admission is made. The possession of conscience does not make any man morally good, but it undoubtedly renders every man a responsible agent. It would be an evident error to afiSrm, that if man were without a conscience, he would commit a greater amount of wickedness ; for, so constituted, he could be as little capable of moral evil as of moral excellence. But if we cannot, with any propriety of language, aflSrm, that without the possession of the conscience, human wickedness would have been greater than it is ; it is per- fectly competent to assert that, without such a restraint, human passion would have raged, more furiously, and that the human misery produced would have been vastly more extensive. The conscience, weak and perverted though it be, is one instrument employed by God to hold mankind in subjection in spite of their wickedness. Bacon speaks of it as " sufficient to check the vice, but not to inform the duty." Though chained like the watch- dog, it does, at least at times, give warning of danger. Thia broken rudder is not capable of conducting the vessel into the BY THE CONSCIENCE. 391 harbour ; but may be used for preventing it, till certain ends have been accomplished, from dashing upon the rocks. '' We believe," says Viriet, " in the wreck of humanity ; we believe that its unfortunate ship has perished, but that the remains of that great catastrophe float on the waves. A few of these arc fit for some use, out none of them can bear to the shore the'? least of the passengers." In many cases, there is direct obedience, not indeed full and constant, but partial and occasional, to the dictates of the con- science. Let it be acknowledged frankl}^, and without any mental reservation whatsoever, that there is in society much sterling honesty, proceeding from conscientious integrity of character, and not from any discovery of the advantages which may spring from the course of conduct pursued. Not only so, there is in many a high sense of honour, and a noble-minded generosity of character, originating in a largeness of heart, and guided by an acute sense of right and wrong, which command our esteem and admiration. We always suspect the man who sneers at the idea of the existence of human integrity and benevolence, that he is himself the villain which he believes others to be. Now, it needs but a moment's reflection to discover, how much the peace and general wellbeing of society are promoted by the belief in this high honour and disinterested philanthropy. Though society could be held together in a sort of way by the restraints of God's providence, it would be a sad scene of constant jealousy, without the mutual confidence engendered by sterling honour and gene- rous love. But while it is freely admitted that the peace and decorum of society are thereby greatly furthered, we are not therefore to conclude that human nature is spotlessly pure. The disorgani- zation of the mind may be discovered in the very character of the restraints which the conscience imposes. There is a favouritism displayed where all may seem to be candour, and the partiality of the judge comes out in the selection of the cases in which a righteous judgment is pronounced. Let us mark the peculiarities of those cases in which tlie con- science is in the way of controlling the mind, and directing it aright. As a general I'ule^ it is most disposed to do so when the sin, after commission, would he forced most readily and fre- quently upon the cognizance of the conscience. As for instance — 392 RESTRAINTS LAID UPON MAN First, iclien it is hnoiun that external circumstances must force the sin iipon the attention. Mankind in general avoid tliose sins which after commission must be constantly recalled by events ever occnrring. Nor is there need of any profound reasoning to discover what sins must thus brin^^so immediate a punishment — the mind discovers them at once, and flees from them as naturally and spontaneously as it would from a preci- pice or any manifest bodily peril. It is in consequence of this salutary awe that we find external sins avoided by persons who meanwhile cherish the sinful feeling and purpose. Lewd thoughts, malice, and revenge, are mentally indulged by thou- sands who refrain from perpetrating the corresponding deed, and this not merely fi-om a perception of the reproach with which they would be visited by their fellow-men upon the act becom- ing manifest, but because of the chiding of their own hearts, called np by the public notice taken of them. Hence it is, like- wise, that there is commonly a restraint on those sins which call forth instantly the reprobation of society. But those offences are most keenly condemned which inflict immediate injury on the temporal interests of mankind. Deceit and dishonesty, and the kindred vices, are those which are most deeply felt by so- ciety as inflicting the greatest amount of injury, and these are the vices which the wise and prudent man is most disposed to avoid. Hence the straightforward honesty and sensitive honour 80 characteristic of our higher class of men of business. It would be altogether a miserable fetch to impute this, their dis- tinguishing quality, to a mere refinement of selfishness — it proceeds rather from a becoming fear of the accusations of a conscientious mind. It is for a like reason that we find the general tone of morality in society exercising a powerful influence on the individual mem- bers of it. When the standard of honour and virtue is high in a community — when, for instance, unbecoming levity in the female sex, and everything mean on the part of the higher •classes of society are severely reprobated, when industry and ■honesty are commended among the poor — then we find a shrink- ing from all those violations of established propriety which would •expose the individual not only to the scorn of men's tongues, 'but, along with that, to what is more fearful, the gnawings of a dissatisfied mind. On the other hand, when the standard of so- BY THE CONSCIENCE 393 ciety is low — when no mark of disgrace is attached to unchastity, to meanness or to dishonesty — we find persons lalling greedily int.) these sins, and contriving easily to avoid the reproaches of conscience. A member of a community of robbers or pirates can, with comparatively little sclf-reproacli, inflict injury on society at large every day of his life, and his compunctions become acute only when he is tempted to act unfaithfully to- wards that band with which he is associated. Hence we find criminals perpetrating without much remorse the most enormous crimes against mankind at large, and yet maintaining a nice sense of honour in reference to one another. This, too, is a cause (additional to that before noticed) of the circumstance that mankind in general are upright in their transactions with one another, while they are utterly ungrateful and rebellious in their conduct towards God, their governor and best beneflictor. Must there not be some fearful derangement in man's nature when sins are weighed, not in the unchangeable scale of God's law, but the varying scale of ever-shifting circumstances ? Secondly, sins are avoided ivhen the social and symjoathetic feelings of man's nature tend to recall them frequently and vividly. The feelings referred to will fall to be considered in the next chapter. They arc in themselves different from the moral feelings, and are commonly far more powerful, owing to their liveliness in their influence upon the character. They must give a strong bias to the train of association ; and whatever sins rouse them into operation, must of necessity be much before the mind. Hence we find the attention dwelling on sins, not in proportion to their greatness, but according as the occurrence may have excited and interested the emotions. Hence we find, in all minds not utterly abandoned, an instinctive shuddering at crimes which produce instantly bodily suffering or mental an- guish, fitted to move the more tender feelings of man's nature. It is owing to this cause, perhaps, more than to the healthy working of the ci nscience, considered in itself, that we find the murderer, the seilucer, and the defrauder of the simple, haunted by such fearful reproaches, with nothing to lessen or alleviate them. We can believe all that is said about the murderer feel- ing as if the stain of the blood of his victim could never be washed out, and as if he saw the wounds ever open, and blood flowing from them. It is pleasant to think that the widow, the 394 RESTRAINTS LAID UPON MAN BY THE CONSCIENCE, orphan, the poor, and the afflicted, have thus a powerful friend, not only in the sympathetic feelings of every man's bosom, but in the moral sense called up by these feelings to the discharge of its duties. This is one of the helps which God provides for the helpless — one of the most potent defences of the defence- less. We now see in what circumstances the conscience is apt to be deadened, and in what circumstances it is apt to be roused. We see how mankind can continue in a most apathetic state in reference to sins of which the whole race is guilty, while they are sensitive as to other sins, less heinous, it may be, but which are generally abhorred. We see, too, why certain sins come to weigh heavily on the mind, while others are speedily forgotten, " Great crimes alarm the conscience, but she sleeps While thoughtful man is plausibly amused," — Cowpee. The great crimes which alarm the conscience are commonly deeds which arouse the sympathies or startle the sensibilities of mankind ; but the other sins which he forgets are those which in no way move the common interests of humanity. We see likewise how sins, forgotten for a time, may be made to flash before the mind by the recalling of associated circumstances, or how they may be steadfastly forced upon the attention by the power of associated feelings. This topic will fall to be resumed in next section. But in considering how these circumstances bear upon the government of God, it is worthy of being noticed, that by their means God can efiectually restrain the vices which have the most pernicious influence upon society. In proportion as society is injured, is its indignation called forth, and in that same pro- portion is the conscience roused to denounce the perpetrator of the evil ; and in proportion as pain is inflicted, so arc the sym- pathetic feelings of the guilty party moved, and, in awakening the sympathies, there are awakened, at the same time, the moie terrible pangs of an accusing conscience. Does it not seem as if God were using the very wrecks of man's nature to keep him from sinking altogether, and making the sinfulness, as he makea the wrath, of man to praise him ? EVIL EFFECTS OF A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE, 395 SECT. Viri. — ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. The sad effects that follow from a falsely approving conscience, producing a self-deceived, self-satisfied temper of mind, have already been pointed out. We are now to contemplate the evil effects which originate in a condemning conscience. These are greater and more numerous iJian the superficial observer is apt to imagine. Their source lies deep down in the human heart, and is therefore unseen, but is on that account the more tre- mendously powerful. We are inclined to refer much of the discontent which abounds in the world to the influence of an unsatisfied conscience. As repeated neglects of duty pass under the notice of the mind, there is a wretchedness ever renewed, though very possibly witliout the individual being at all aware of the source from which it springs. In this respect it resembles the constant uneasiness produced by the derangement of the digestive organs, or the irritation caused by a diseased nervous system. The re- proaches of the conscience, though individually transient, exercise, by their recurrence, a powerful influence. They resemble those noxious ephemera which make up in number what they want in strength ; and while the individuals perish, the species sur- vives. By their constant renewal they disturb the flow of asso- ciation in the mind, and dispose it to anxiety and fretfulness. An accusing conscience must thus ever bef rendering the posses- sor restless and unhappy. We refer to this cause much of wffat we call temper, both of peevish and violent temper. True, the individual may not know the quarter from which the restless- ness which he feels proceeds — nay, he may be inclined to trace it to every other source rather than the true one. He thinks that it arises from his condition, and hence his constant endea- vours to better his position, to free himself from certain external inconveniences, and to attain certain temporal privileges ; or he refers it to the ill usage which he receives from mankind in general, or from certain individuals who have thwarted, envied, or insulted him, and hence his irritability or the obstinacy of his temper. He may not be aware of it — nay, he might scout at the idea, if propounded to him ; but nevertheless it is certain 396 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED tliat thG spring of his misery is to be found in a conscience awakened without being pacified. We are inclined to refer not only mucli of human misery, but much more than is commonly supposed, of human sinfulness, to the working of an evil conscience. Much of human passion and human violence is the fire and sound emitted by nature in its efibrt to restore a deranged equilibrium. Alas ! we cannot even understand man's wickedness, under some of its forms, without taking into account the existence of a moral sense. It is possible for the conscience to become a deranging instead of a regulating power ; and when it does so, it becomes the most corrupting of all agents, even as water, so essential to all living vegetation, becomes the most powerful of all means of corruption in a plant deprived of vitality. Whatever rankles the mind — and nothing so much rankles it as an unappeased conscience — must tend to keep alive the worst feelings of the heart. The fever produced will prompt to anger, to ambition, and to every passion which may carry away th« individual from himself, or absorb him in strife or in the giddy whirl of business or pleasure. And there are times Avhen the sleej^ing volcano will burst out with awful and irresistible power. "A wounded spirit who can bear .?" and that which is intoler- able within will find vent without. When the mind is thrown into a tumult — when it is tossed from the lowest depths — all that is impure will be cast up, like the " troubled sea when it cannot rest, and whose waves cast up mire and dirt," Some of the direst crimes evet committed have been prompted by this lasCferation of spirit, as when the guilty have sought to rid them- selves of those who have been witnesses of their crimes, or whose presence told them of their guilt, or whose lives have been a reproach upon their own. Some of the incidents of greatest horror recorded in history have originated in the aversion of the mind to the near contact to spotless virtue. The Athenian mob were allowing more truth to escape from them than mankind are accustomed to do, when they gave as their reason for banish- ing Aristides, that they did not relish the constant reference made to his justice. Not a few of the murders of wives by their husbands, and of husbands by their wives, have sprung from a determination to be rid of the memorials of broken vows. We can trace to no other source than a conscience goading on the BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. 397 passions, the deraoniacal deeds which have been committed around the martyr's funeral pile. So potent is this principle, that we believe it capable of explaining the fearful scenes at the foot of the Cross, where the meekest of sufferers was denied the sympathy which has not been withheld at a dying hour even from the vilest malefaetor. If we would understand all the effects which follow from a condemning conscience, we must not forget that the passions are often irritated and inflamed by the opposition offered to them. It is proverbial that what is forbidden is apt to be the more eagerly sought after. Nor is it difficult to account for this. The mind under the influence of desire dwells on the prohibition and the thing prohibited, becomes more eagerly bent on obtaining it, and chafes at the denial. The effect of the interposition of the conscience in sucli circumstances is only to exasperate the mind ; just as the rocks which do not impede the stream serve to dash it into greater violence. The natural effect of a monitor warning, without being attended to, must be an increased irritability of spirit. The ocean, even when the waves are high, never seems to rage in all its fury except at the sl\ore, wliere it is opposed by breakers ; the deepest stream will flow along softly, and almost imperceptibly, till it meets with opposing rocks or cliffs, which dash it from one to another, when it is forthwith lashed into foam ; and it is from a like cause that the rebellious temper of man rages against the conscience, when it would lay restraints upon him. Paul seems to refer to this power of an awakened con- science : — '' Sin, taking occasion by the commandment, wrought in me all manner of concupiscence." As the prisoner will tear his chains, and beat upon his prison walls, so will the spirit of man fret and rage, when it feels its fetters, and yet is not able to break them. It is the wild beast beating upon its cage, and, indignant at every restraint upon it, becoming more furious than when it ranged in the forest. Scourged by remorse, there are multitudes who have sought to drown their pain by the most frantic movements. Criminals have been known, with the view of diverting their minds, to jest even upon the scaffold. Others have sought to madden their minds, and so to ease their feelings, by rushing into unblushing profligacy and daring criminality, and would drown the remembrance of old iniquities by the noise which new ones create. 398 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED ' In other cases, the mind is hardened into a confirmed rebellion against God and all that is good. This effect follows, whenever it is constrained to look constantly at the sins of which it yet does not repent. In ordinary circumstances the passions of the soul, by means of the conspiracy which they have hatched, contrive to deceive the conscience, but they will not always be so successful. Speak- ing of the conscience, Bishop Eeynolds says — "Though in many men it sleep in regard to motion, yet it never sleeps in regard to observation and notice — it may be heard and seared, it can never be blind. That writing on it, which seems invisible and illegible, like letters written with the juice of lemon, when it is brought to the fire of God's judgments, will be most clear."* The time is comins: when the mask which man wears will be torn off, and his character will be displayed to himself in all its hideousness and deformity. There are circumstances occurring in the world quite sufficient to explain what is here meant. Let us look, in the way of marking the operations of the mind, at those persons who go on for years in a course of undetected sin, but who are afterwards exposed. There is a servant, let us suppose, cheating his master, or one of the sex in which chastity is so highly valued giving way to an unlawful lust ; we are to mark the state of mind of such persons, first, when the sin is yet concealed, and then when it comes to be detected and published. Though they will, no doubt, be troubled all along with secret misgivings and reproaches, it is astonishing to find what habitual calmness they may assume — nay, what complacency they may feel, at least if they have no difficulty in concealing their sins. After the first awkwardness has been conquered, it is conceivable that the parties may feel at ease in the very presence of the master deceived, or of the husband to whom the wife has proved unfaithful. It is evident that, besides a studious concealment from the eyes of pthers, there is also a hiding of the sin from the eyes of the guilty parties themselves. They think of the sinful deed as seldom as possible ; and when it is brought before the mind, it is in a disguised dress and appearance. Society will condemn the deed when known, and equally certain is it that the conscience will condemn it every time it is presented. If the Bcorn of men be difficult to endure, the constant gnawing of * Bishop Reynolds on the Affections. BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. 399 Belf-reproach is, if possible, still more intolerable. Hence the ingenious stratagems of concealment which the mind is ever plotting, with at least temporary success. The person acts the hypocrite to himself, and uses as many contrivances to save appearances before the censor witliin, as to shield himself from the criticisms of the world without. But let us suppose that the crime is now discovered, and let us mark the effect. It is one or other of the two following : — the person is humbled and grieved, and becomes penitent and reformed — or more commonly the result is the very opposite, he becomes hardened, and sets the opinion of mankind at defiance. When this latter is the issue, the individual from that instant becomes more open and unblushing in criminality. He acts not only in contempt of the opinion of society, but in more direct rebellion against the dictates of conscience. The old motives which led him to conceal from the community the sins which he was committing, have now lost their force, and have taken with them almost all his old methods of concealing his sins from himself; and now he sins not only more openly, but more greedily and recklessly. He feels like the gambler who has lost at one venture nearly his whole property ; he thinks he may risk the remainder, it is so small. This is the feeling of the man whom crime hath deprived of peace of conscience ! he acts as if fiirther crime could scarcely make him more wretched. It seems that there arc cataracts in the descending stream of wickedness at which the fall is more tremendous than at other places. Let us take another illustrative case. Let us trace the descent of a criminal who has been hardened by the sentence pronounced upon him, and the punishment to which he has been subjected. Let us mark how he goes down step by step in the scale of being, and how the very interferences Avith him are the means of hurrying him down the faster, as he breaks loose from them — just as the abutting rocks that would stop the rolling stone are often the means of making it take a more tremendous leap. Under the influence of some transient feeling, not without criminality, a youth, wc shall suppose, is tempted to engage in some night foray which ends in pilfering, and he is in conse- quence apprehended, condemned, and subjected to confinement for a certain length of time. It is a critical period in his history. Suppose him to be brought to tnie repentance, we may have 400 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PKODUCED irom this time a life of persevering integrity. But suppose, on the other hand, that he is led to spurn at the sentence, and endure the iienalty in a grumbling spirit ; from that date there will, in all probability, be a succession of crimes leading to a succession of condemnations, and the whole rendering the heart more hardened than ever. Now, the issue must be analogous, in regard to all men, when at any time they are made to feel deeply and solemnly, be it in this life or the life to come, that God is calling them into judg- ment. We say in this life, because there are times in the history of the world, and in the history of every individual, when God seems to be setting up a throne of judgment on the earth, and calling men before it. Certain it is, that every man must at length stand before the Judge of the universe. When thus summoned into the presence of the Judge of all, it must be for one or other of two purposes — either to have his sins forgiven, or to have them charged upon him. In the former case, it is con- ceivable that, with the sentence of condemnation removed, the heart, without any violence done to its principles, may be inclined to submission and repentance. Hence the appropriateness of the plan of salvation revealed in the gospel, which disarms rebellion by providing a free forgiveness. But it is to the other alterna- tive that our attention is at present called. Man, we suppose, is summoned to give account of his deeds to a Judge who cannot possibly be deceived. Unable to justify himself, with no promise of forgiveness, with no disposition to repent, the natural result is sulkiness and open rebellion. Were there room for deception, the party might be prompted to excuse *or lessen his sin; or with the promise of forgiveness, he might be disposed at least to profess repentance, and might have a momentary desire to practise it. But if repentance be impossible on the one hand, and the door of hope seem to be shut on the other, every principle of man's nature will drive him on to the recklessness which proceeds from con- scious guilt and despair. Meanwhile his sin will stand disclosed before him in all its liideousness and with nothing to conceal it. The remembrance of sin, we have seen, may be called up either by external cir- ot.mstances, or by a powerful inward feeling. Both of these now combine to keep his sin before him. Why am I so situated ? li BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. 401 the conylant inquiry put. Because of sin, is the answer uttered, as it were, by a responsive voice from our own bosoms. And these feelings of intense anguish, whence come they ? — Because of sin, is the reply, prolonged, as it were, by subterranean thunders. But the sentence is unnecessarily severe. Well, let me consider why it is inflicted. Because of sin, is the sound heard, as coming with awful solemnity from heaven, and from the very mouth of the Judge. But this sin is not so great after all, it is suggested. Well, let me examine it. " Here is a sin " is the voice comin"- from one quarter ; " Here is a sin," is the voice coming from another quarter ; till earth, over all its wide surface, joins with heaven and hell in ringing the sound of sin in the ear. The insects which issue from an ant-hill, when it is stirred, are not so numerous nor fierce as the eager reproaches which come Ibrth, when the judgments of heaven visit the spirit. All the scenes of the past life, even those regarded as most interesting at the time, and remembered with greatest pleasure ever since, are now made to disclose to the view the sin involved in them, but which was for a time concealed beneath the lovely foliage on which the eye rested. This youthful frolic, which once com- municated such pleasure in the remembrance — ah ! it is now seen that it proceeded from vanity. This deed of generosity to man — alas ! it was accompanied with an utter contempt of God. Nor was Fitz-James more astonished, when, in one of the most magnificent, and seemingly one of the most peaceful, scenes in nature, there sprung up an armed warrior from cvciy bush and brake and hollow, than the person who has walked through life in a vain show, when his sins at last start up before him. " Wild as the scream of the curlew From crag to crag the signal flew Instant, through copse and heath, aroa> Bonnets, and spears, and bended bows , On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; From shingles grey their lances start The bracken bush sends forth the dart; The rushes and the willow wand Are bristling into axe and brand; And every tufl of broom gives life To plaided warrior arm'd for strife— As if the yawning hell to heaven A subterranean host had given." 20 402 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED All of US who have experienced anything like the following may comprehend how there should be such a resurrection of feeling. Conceive a world-involved man taking a quiet day, in a life of engrossing business, to visit the scenes of his childhood. The house in which he was reared — the room in which he slept — the field in which he played — the garden or glen in which he gathered flowers — this gnarled oak, and that sequestered dell — have all an attraction to him which they have to no other ; and their attraction arises from their raising recollections of scenes which seemed to be for ever lost, but which were vastly inter- esting at the time, as they are still interesting in the gushing memory of them as they well up from the mind as waters from a fountain. Events which were regarded as absolutely buried are made to spring up in vivid reality, and they come with in- tense power to move the soul to mirth or melancholy. It is an experimental proof of the possibility of the resurrection of buried thoughts. So ftir as forgotten sins are concerned, the conscience is the archangel's trumpet, whose sound raises them from the graves to which they had been consigned, in the hope that they might dwell in perpetual darkness ; and they stand before us shivering and shaking, calling on the hills to cover them, and the caves to hide them — but all to no purpose, for there is no place in which these risen ghosts can find a shelter, except in the land of perpetual darkness, where their misery is concealed, though not lessened or remedied. There is a death for the soul, but there is no grave in which to bury it. But will the mind not endeavour still to conceal the guilt from itself ? Most assuredly it will, but in a new way. The old methods have failed, but new ones will present themselves, and be eagerly followed. After the exposure which has been made, it knows that it cannot conceal inself in its old mantle ; it must therefore find a new one, which if not so fair and becoming, nor adapted for concealment, may yet be harder and more impene- trable, and fitted for defence ; and underneath the external garb, when it is torn away, there will be found a coat of mail for pro- tection. The man cannot now flatter himself into the belief that his virtues are numerous and his fiiults few ; for, as he stood at the bar of the Judge, he got a view of his character in all its blackness and hideousness. Still he cannot bear the continual gnawings of that condemning conscience. But if it cannot be BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. 403 Bilenced, may he not succeed in getting beyond the reach of its voice ? Or he may allow other feelings to hurry him along till the sound no longer fiills upon his ear. Such feelings will rise up spontaneously in the mind, under the irritation produced by the condemning sentence of the judge; and if these feelings of rage and disappointment can but allow the mind to escape the conscience, they will be willingly followed. Not that they are felt to be pleasant, but they are at least of a more moving and hurrying character than those which oppress the spirit, as the conscience utters its judgments, and admits of no appeal. If they do not give relief, they at least furnish a change of misery, as the man racked with pain on all sides will again and again change his posture, were it only to vary his distress. Tied, like Mazeppa, on a courser over which he has no control, he would feel a kind of ecstasy in the very wildness of its careering. Not only so, but acquiring courage from despair, he may proceed the length of /making war with the judge. Since he cannot flee from him, he will perhaps afiect to contemn him, or impugn the authority of his law. " Souls who dare look the omnipotent tyrant in His everlasting face, and tell him that His evil is not good." — Byron's Cain. But this is by no means so easy a work, for meanwhile God has a witness in every man's bosom. There must be some way of deluding this witness before so bold a step can be taken. The spirit will now try to make the conscience condemn the judge, as being harsh and relentless. Strange and paradoxical as it may appear, it will, to some e.xtent, be successful. It will picture to the conscience the condemnation pronounced, as a dark deed of tyranny and revenge committed by God ; and believing, or trying to believe, that God is malignant, it will view Him with the feelings which malignity should inspire. And now the soul will not only be angry with God, but feel as if it did right to be angry, and the war which it carries on will not only be that of the passions, but of an evil conscience. The feelings roused will be a strange mixture of heat and cold. The whole soul will, as it were, be travelling constantly from " beds of raging fire to starve in ice;" and there will be found in it such extremes as Sir James Ross saw in those lofty mountains near the south pole, where molten lava, with a glaring light, constantly poured itself 404 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED on eternal snows. The war, too, will now be incessant. If the war were merely that of the passions, there might be cessations and gaps and intervals ; but being now that of a troubled con- science, as W'Cll as that of ia disordered heart, it becomes a con- stant and everlasting warfare, without respite and without end. Such seems to be the necessary issue of the very principles in the nature of responsible beings. It is conceivable, then, that there may be beings, angelic beings, who wage a never-ceasing warfare with God, urged on by a disordered conscience, and passions which have broken loose from all restraint. Man's reason and experience cannot tell him that there are such beings, but they show that there may be such, and that this is the natural and — unless God miraculously interpose — the necessary result of the fall of beings who have a moral law in their hearts. Every one can understand how a criminal, repeatedly condemned and punished by an earthly judge, becomes hardened in the very 2)rocess. This phenomenon, constantly presented in every country, is the natural issue of principles in the mind of fallen man. But these same principles, on the condemnation being pronounced by the Judge of the universe, will lead to a similar result ; and just as we find that those who have once been elevated become the most degraded on their being seduced into crime ; just as we find the most abandoned criminals in nations that are refined ; so we may expect that beings who stand the highest must descend the lowest when they fall — their very pre- vious exaltation making them roll the farther down, Eevelation is not, then, telling us of an impossibility, in announcing that there are fallen angels ever incited by restlessness within, to try new projects of wickedness, w^ere it only to vary the sameness of their misery ; ever seeking to extract a bitter consolation from the frustration of the Divine purposes and the extension of vice and misery, and to drag down others with them into that abyss into which they have been plunged. He who fell by pride, may surely now be expected to gratify an unruly ambition by attempting to multiply the restless spirits who may do him homage. True it is that every apparent victory has been followed by overwhelming defeat ; but the seeming triumph has been sufficient to goad on that spirit which has nothing to hope from assumed and forced submission, while it is indisposed to genuine repentance. And we have only to look to man, to discover that propensities to evil BY A CONDEMNING CONSCIENCE. 405 rush on towards their objects, regardless of consequences, and in contempt of all experience. It seems as if the moral being who falls must fall for ever, and that his descent must be a rapidly accelerated one, the termination of which is to be found only at the bottom of a pit that is bottomless. Man lias only to look within to discover principles which might bring the possessor into a state similar to that of fallen angels. " But for the grace of God, there goes John Bradford," was the exclamation (often quoted) of a well-known Reformer, as he saw a criminal led away to execution. If man will only look into his own heart in a searching manner, he may discover principles which, in some of their possible operations, are capable of sinking him even into the depths of demoniacal wickedness. He who knows his own nature will be prepared to acknowledge that the contest, of which poets have sung, between the spirits of evil and God, are at least possible. Nay, it may be doubted, wdiether such poets as j\Iilton and Byron could have given such a painfully graphic anatomy of demoniacal pride and passion, hatl they not drawn from their own nature ; or whether we should have been so moved by the description, if there liad been nothing responsive in our own bosoms, " Thou fipcak'st to me of things which long have swam In visions through my thought." — Byron's Cain. Combining these considerations, which have a foundation in the principles of our fallen nature, it is difficult to sec how, if God does not interpose, man can stop short of the demoniacal state. There are persons who wonder that man should be con- signed to the place prepared for the devil and his angels ; but when he has acquired the character of the devil and his angels, in what place can he so appropriately be ? There is one other tendency of falling humanity to which it is needful to attend. We would call it the drying up of the natural affections, according as wickedness increases, and the heart becomes rebellious. We have already contemplated one striking manifestation of this tendency, in the natural feeling being restrained from flow- ing towards God, from the very instant that sin was committed. It is evidently an authentic statement that is given of the con- duct of our first parents, when they are represented, after their first act of sin, as avoiding the presence of God. They did not 406 ON THE EVIL EFFECTS PRODUCED flee from one another ; they had still love one to another ; bui they now felt the presence of God repulsive, and they had already ceased to love hira. We see that a guilty conscience is capable of drying up one stream of aflfection ; it has dried up the stream of love that flowed towards God. In the affection which man lavishes, God is the exception ; it would seem as if he could love everything except his Maker. At least he seems capable of doing so in the earlier stages of his career. But the same guilty conscience that has dried up one stream can dry up others. Hence the prejudices against certain individuals — the envy, the malice, the revenge that are to be found in the world — these are not original parts of man's constitution, but acquisitions made, to some extent at least, by a guilty conscience, and to the full extent by the conscience ne- glecting to exercise its legitimate control. There seems to be an impression among some, that if con- science were the supreme regulator of human conduct, it would give the character so far a stern and forbidding aspect, by pre- venting the flow of human affection. But this proceeds from a mistaken notion. It is one of the highest oflices of tlie con- science, in directing all the principles of the mind, to guide in an especial manner the affections, and cause them to flow out, in due measure, in their proper channels. The instant eff'ect of a deranged conscience is the drying up of one of the streams — that which should flow towards God ; and the drying up of other streams follows in the progress of wickedness. In the deranged nature of man, the fountains of the affections, which should have been kept pure and fresh, are first allowed to be partially choked up and polluted, then the waters flow in per- verted channels, and finally they are lost altogether in the barren sands to which they are carried. In this downward career there is no change of the fundamen- tal principles and constituents of man's nature ; yet there are sad changes of personal character. There are numberless ana- logies in human life to show, that there may be a change of the train of feelings in the mind, with no change in the original faculties. Look first at this sprightly girl, then at this sober matron, and then at this forlorn widow ; it is the same person throughout, but how different the individual thoughts and emotions at these different times ! Compare her at this present BY A CONDEJINING CONSCIENCE. 407 moment, grieving over the recent loss of her earthly partner, with wliat she was but a few weeks ago. Or follow that widow into the work in which she is now called to engage, and mark the new energies called forth by the unexpected situations in which she is placed. In these new scenes she is the same as she was five years ago as the wife, or as she was twenty years ago as the lively girl — ^yet how diflferent the train of thought and feel- ing ! We urge this merely as an illustration of an interesting psychological phenomenon, and as preparing us to believe, that in the downward progress of wickedness there may be fearful changes — and they must be changes to the worse — in human character. There is not a greater difference between the spark- ling diamond and the black carbon into which it may be burnt, than there is between the original soul of man, transparent and lustrous, and the same soul calcined by the fires of guilt into the darkest indifFerenee and the most sordid selfishness. In particular, we may anticipate a drying up of natural affec- tion. The raven that brought intelligence to Apollo was white till it conveyed the sad news of the death of a favourite, when its colour instantly became black : almost as great, almost as sudden^ is the change of feeling with which men view certain objects after a change of circumstances. In the vernal days of youth and prosperity, the aficctions flow and sparkle on all sides, and water and refresh every object near them. But as years roll on, they are more sparing and restricted in their current. Competition, clashing interests, and selfishness begin to produce an apathy ; then the malign passions breaking out, engender a fixed hatred and antipathy. These are the lessons commonly learned by human nature in the school of the world, where selfishness in one leads to selfishness in another, and malignity in one party leads to malignity in the opposite party. The general result is, that first the leaves wither — they may remain for a time in this state — and then they are driven away. But we are now contemplating the eflfects produced on the- affections, not by the world, but by that judgment which we have supposed God to institute, and issuing in the positive and open rebellion of man. It is difficult to see how any afiection, except of the most perverted kind, can outlive such a scorching of the soul. The amazon, in her warlike pursuits, had her breast dried up that she might fight the more fiercely ; and there is, we sus« 408 GENERAL EEVIEW OF pect, such ca drying up of the breasts of human affection in the indulgen<^e of the fierce feelings called up by a condemning con- science. We doubt much if a soul so maddened by the con- science can ever afterwards look upon any object with kindness and complacency. There is more than a freezing of the affec- tion, such as may be produced by the cold atmosphere of the world — for if there was nothing but a freezing, the affection might again melt and flow in a more genial clime ; this awful judgment, like the Medusa's head, has turned it into hard and enduring stone. SECT. IX. — GENERAL REVIEW OF MAN's EXISTING MORAL NATURE. In the researches prosecuted in this chapter, we have had little assistance afforded, at least directly, by other inquirers into human nature.* Metaphysical and ethical writers have com- monly contented themselves with investigating the original moral constitution of man's mind, and developing the office of the moral faculty ; but they have instituted no particular inquiry into, nor given any explanation of, its existing state. On the other hand, we find in the writings of divines many statements and speculations as to the present state of man's heart ; but then there is no inquiry into the original and indestructible structure of man's moral nature. Every thinking mind has felt that there is a gap to fill up between such writers as Hutcheson, Eeid, Stewart, Brown, Mackintosh, Kant, Cousin, and Jouffroy, on the one hand, and the common treatises of divinity, such as those of Augustine, Calvin, Owen, and Edwards, on the other."}" * There are important principles, however, laid down in several of the dis- courses of Chalmers and Vinet. t This discrepancy was clearly perceived by the acute and accomplished mind of Dr. Wardlaw. It may be doubted, however, whether he has been successful in constructing in his Christian Ethics a system at once philosophical and scriptural. Towards the close of the seventeenth century, there arose a set of writers who sought to meet the rising rationalism by maintaining that the human faculties, in ■consequence of their being depraved, could not establish any body of truth. The religious philosophers of the following age followed a better method, and used the human understanding in building a system of evidences in behalf of Christianity. Wardlaw has fallen into an error in reference to the conscience, similar to that which was committed by the parties referred to in regard to human reason. In- stead of Blighting or setting aside the revelations of conscience, it is surely vastly man's existing moral nature. 409 We liave not felt ourselves called on to dispute the general accuracy of the investigations of ethical writers, who have given a high place to the moral faculty, and who have sought to exalt man's moral nature. It is difficult to convince those who have been taught to look upon man as merely the highest of the ani- mals, as merely an upper brute, that there should be such things as sin and salvation. We rejoice then to find certain great and important truths established regarding man's moral constitution, and instead of overlooking them, we have sought to apply them to the existing state of man. There are parts of the writings of all the philosophers referred to, in which they admit that the conscience has not in fact the control which it ought to have ; but they speedily lose sight of their own admission, or at least attempt no explanation of a phenomenon which, to say the least of it, is as worthy of being investigated as the original functions of the conscience. We have as certain evidence that the con- science convicts every given man of sin, as we have of the very existence of the conscience itself. It is upon the very doctrine that the philosophers have established, that we have sought to rear the other doctrine, which they are so averse to look at. Adopting the principles which philosophers have furnished, we have followed them to their legitimate consequences ; and in doing so, we have arrived at the same conclusions in regard to the corruption of man's nature, as those divines who have derived their views from the volume of inspiration. While the view presented of human nature has been suffi- ciently dark and melancholy, it has at the same time been discriminating, which the doctrine set forth by divines has not always been. In maintaining the total depravity of man's nature, they have been afraid to make the least admission as wiser to attempt to unfold them and use them to give a contribution to the Chris- tian evidences — a thing which cannot be done by those who deny to the conscience an independent autliority. It is a mistake to imagine that conscience can do everything ; but it is equally a mistake to suppose that it can do nothing. (1.) Its fundamental laws furnish a foundation to Ethics; (2.) It reveals a law which constitutes all men responsible ; (3.) It restrains from many sins ; (4.) It shews that all men are sinners ; (5.) It points to the need of a Re- deemer; (6.) When rectified by heavenly aid it is the means of exciting to all excellence. All this may be maintained in perfect consistency by those who acknowledge, (1.) That the possession of it does not render any man virtuous; (2.) That it cannot, apart from revelation, set before us a perfect moral standard ) and (3.) That it cannot keep from all sin or conduct to true hollncsa- 410 GENERAL REVIEW OF to the qualities and features of man's character, which are iindoubtedl}' pleasing and praiseworthy in themselves; and they have taken great pains to explain away those numerous passages of God's Word which " accord to human virtues those praises which could not be accorded to them in a system which denies all moral value in the actions of men/'* In particular, we have seen, (1.) That the conscience retains in the human mind its original claims of authority. The law is broken, but it is still binding. Then, (2.) There is room in the depraved heart of man for the play and exercise of all the high talents and susceptibilities with which man was originally furnished. (3.) There are still in the human mind many amiable and benevolent qualities. (4.) There are actions of moral honesty and integrity, and even of religion so called, performed in obedience to the conscience. But over against these truths we have to place an equal number of others. As, (1.) While the conscience asserts its claims, these claims are not attended to. (2.) The powers and sensibilities of the mind are abused and perverted. (3.) The affections are not under the control of right principle, and, in particular, are not directed to God as they ought. (4.) The actions, whether of morality or religion, performed in obedience to the conscience, are performed in obedience to a perverted conscience ; and so there is something defective in the actions themselves, while the general state of the agent being depraved, we cannot approve of the agent in the acts. It is of the utmost moment that the doctrine now expounded be distinguished from the miserably low and grovelling views of those who would represent all and each of mankind as utterly selfish and dishonest. This is an opinion, learned not in the school of religion, but in the school of the world. It prevails among the low-minded and the suspicious, and in those ages and states of society in which men's sentiments have been debauched by reigning profligacy, (the most selfish of all the vices, though it may seem the most generous,) or utterly pro- strated and perverted by the disappointment succeeding a period of great public profession of generosity which has turned out to be hypocritical. Men judge of others by themselves ; and the Belfish cannot be brought to believe in the existence of disin- * Vinet. man's existing moral nature. 411 terestediiGSS. Those who have made it their business to corrupt their species, and those who habitually mingle with the aban- doned, have generally reasoned themselves out of all belief in human virtue. Persons once cheated are afraid of deceit all their lives after ; and when nations have come to see the hollow- ness of the professions of patriotism which those who wish to lead them have made, they are apt to conclude in their haste that all men are deceivers. We arc most anxious that it should be observed, that the view which we have presented of human nature encourages no such dark and suspicious sentiments. It does not lead every man to suspect his neighbour ; it rather leads every man to be jealous of himself. No two classes of maxims can be more opposed than those of such writers as Rochefoucault and Helvetius, who exhibit human selfishness in unrelieved colours, that we may be brought to distrust all men ; and those of good men who love the human race, even Avhen they mourn over its sad degeneracy. We acknowledge that, in perfect consistency with the views above developed, there may be among mankind much real hospitality, lrindncs5!, and sympathy with distress ; much sincere friendship, noble patriotism, and large-hearted philanthropy ; the heart to fbel and the hand to help ; the spirit to purpose, and the courage to execute, deeds of patience and the highest heroism. We are most anxious, too, that the views expounded should be distinguished from those of the Utilitarian school of philosophy in this country, and of what has been called the Sensational school in France, and of all who tell us that every man is mainly governed by a regard to his own interest. Truly, there are some who would degrade human nature lower than it is, on the pretence nf exalting it. Fallen though mankind be, they are capable of entertiiining and cherishing many kindly feelings and benevolent affections, and they are I'ully as often swayed by impulse, caprice, lust, and passion, as by a systematic selfishness. We utterly abhor such a sentiment as that on which a certain writer would found a whole theory of jurisprudence, namely, that every man pursues his own interest when he knows it. We may agree with Rochefoucault when he says, '' That which we take for virtues is often nothing but an assemblage of divers actions, and of divers interests, which fortune or our own industry knows how to arrange." " We are so prepossessed in a way in our own 412 GENERAL REVIEW OF favour, that what we take for virtues is often nothing but a number of vices which have met together, and which pride and self-love have disguised." But when the same author lets us know else- where that he resolves so-called human virtues into the lowest and most grovelling vices, we draw back from his maxims w^ith detes- tation. " Virtue would not go far if vanity did not keep it com- pany." " That which appears generosity is often nothing but ambition in disguise, despising small interests in order to attain greater."* That there is some justice in these maxims cannot be denied, but we deplore that they should be used for the purpose of furthering so low an object, and leaving so dangerous an im- pression. The man who believes his whole species to be villains, is sure to end by himself becoming one, if indeed he has not begim by judging others by himself. " I said in my haste, that all men are liars;" the man who says so, not in haste, but in his calm and reflecting moments, is, we suspect, all that he makes others to be. All persons who, lilce Walpole and Bonaparte, lay it down as a principle that every man has a price and can be corrupted, may be judged by their own standard. Nor can we find language strong enough to condemn that miserable so-called philosophy which tells us, that " a physical sensibility has produced in us a love of pleasure and hatred of pain ; that pleasure and pain have at length produced and opened in all hearts the buds of self-love, which, by unfolding themselves, give birth to the passions whence spring all our virtues and vices."f It is true that we must divide off from our catalogue of human virtues many actions which appear virtuous, but which proceed from nothing but pride, vanity, ambition, and a disguised selfishness. But after having made full allowance for such, there still remains a large body of actions, which we must refer to amiable and generous feelings, w'ithout one grain of a baser alloy. There are deeper mysteries in man's spiritual nature than some superficial thinkers ever dream of. Their " inept and unscientific gunnery does not include in its calculations the parabolic curve of man's spiritual nature." | Except by taking into our calculation a conscience, and an evil conscience; we cannot comprehend human nature or human action. Those who have left this essential part of man's existing character and * Maxims, 1, 207, 240, 301. j Helvetius on the Mind. J Miller's Firbt Impressions of England and the English. man's existing moral nature. 41S nature out of account, have fiiilcd to give any rational account of his conduct, more particularly in reference to religion ; and as they felt their incompetency, they have burst out into empty declamations against superstition and fanaticism, and have lost their own temper in ridiculing human infirmit3\ We cannot explain human folly under certain of its modifications — we cannot explain human folly even by human passion — we cannot understand the particular mode and intensity of human wicked- ness— we are puzzled at every step, till we call in a perverted moral sense. It is by tlie help of this, the most singular part of man's nature, that we are enabled to account for all other singu- larities and anomalies of his spiritual constitution. Man's fallen, like his original, nature is a deep and a complex one. There are other sins and passions besides those low and base ones into which vulgar minds would resolve every principle of man's heart. Some can discover nothing in man's actuating motives but the love of money, others nothing but the love of praise, and a third class, apparently more profound, resolve all into a refined and far-sighted self-love. These contracted views of narrow minds and suspicious hearts are utterly inadequate to explain the mysteries of the human soul. Th6 lusts and plea- sures of the human heart are very numerous, and {j,ssume an infinite variety of forms. There may be much sinfulness where there is no selfishness. The very attempts which these men make to find such low motives for human action, indicate how inadequate are their views of the true nature of virtue ; for they as much as say, that if they could meet with real kindness and amiability in the world, they would be completely satisfied, though there were no godliness and no moral principle. We include all men under sin, not by seeking to debase the human character lower than it is, but by exalting the standard of virtue — not higher than it ought to be — but by making it such as God hath ordained it in our rery constitution. Not only are these two views, which we may call the selfish and the evangelical, different in themselves — they are different also in their practical influence. The tendency of the one is to render each man satisfied with himself, and suspicious of those with whom he comes in contact. The tendency of the other is to humble every man in his own estimation, and prompt him to use all available means to elevate a race that has sunk to such 414 ' QENEKAL REVIEW OF a depth of degradation. He who habitually looks upon his fellows in the former of these lights is apt to become hard- hearted, cunning, selfish, and grovelling. Believing mankind to be deceivers, he treats them as deceivers, and becomes himself a deceiver in doing so. Imagining himself to be surrounded by- persons whose ruling principle is selfishness, and whose mean of furthering their end is deceit, he feels, in dealing with them, as if he were constrained to descend to their level, and fight them with their own weapons. On the other hand, he who views the race as ungodly, but who looks upon himself as tainted with the same evil, will be so awed by a sense of his own sinfulness as to be incapable of judging harshly of others ; and the worst feel- ings with which he regards the race will be those of sorrow and commiseration. We are not then at liberty to regard man with a cynic, scorn- ful feeling, such as that which rises up when we look at a loathsome reptile. We may denounce man ; but we should never despise him. We may blame, but we dare not contemn him. Jest, in doing so, we should be contemning the noblest part of the workmanship of God in this lower world. There may be indignation, pity, or horror, but mingled with these there must be feelings of honour, respect, and reverence towards the essential parts and principles of a creature formed in the very image of God. We infer the height at which man was at first placed, from the greatness of his fall ; we measure his elevation by the extent of his shadow. Nor will these views induce us to retire from the w^orld in disgust, or make us feel a less lively interest in the race. The truths on which our mind is made to dwell will rather tend to quicken and strengthen our love, and cause it to flow out in a deeper and stronger current. When is it that we think most of an earthly friend, and are most deeply concerned about his welfare ? Is it when he is known to be in safety, dwelling in security in the bosom of his family, far from violence, or disease, or accident ? or rather, is it not when he is thought to be in danger, when he is on the midnight journey, in paths which robbers infest, or crossed by deep and rapid rivers, sweeping many an unguarded traveller from this world to the next ? When is it that the wife thinks most of the husband, and the Bister feels the deepest interest in the brother ? Is it not when man's existing moral nature. 415 the party loved is laid on a bed of distress, or fighting with the billows of death ? A love is tlien kindled which never burned before, and tears flow from eyes, the very fountains of which seemed to have been dried up by the scorching power of this world's anxieties. It is the very circumstance that the race is lost which awakens so deep a feeling in the breast of the Chris- tian— a feeling accompanied with the thought that what is thus lost is precious above all price which can be set upon it, and that the recovery of it is worth any amount of labour which he can render — even as it was worth the sacrifice of the very Son of God. -^ i 0 MOTIVE rRINCIPLBS CHAPTER III. MOTIVE PEINCIPLES OF THE MIND. SECT. I.— MOTIVE PRINCIPLES NEITHER VIRTUOUS NOR VICI0D8 APPETITES AND MENTAL APPETENCIES. We have divided the Motive Department of the mind into the Will, the Conscience, and the Emotions. Having dwelt at considerable length on the two first of these, we are now to consider the Emotions. At the basis of the emotions prompting and drawing them forth will be found Motive or Appetent Principles. It would serve many important ends to have an exhaustive classification of the motive principles of the mind, that is, of the principles of action by which man may be led, or the ends which he may set before him in his actions. Without profess- ing to be able to furnish such, we may point out some active principles which are evidently in the very nature and constitu- tion of the mind. Among these we must give a high place to the propensity to seek that which is known to communicate pleasure, and avoid that which is expected to inflict pain, and this in regard either to ourselves or others. But they take a miserably defective view of man's nature who represent him as incapable of being swayed by any other motive better or worse. There is, for example, a tendency in the mind to exercise and gratify every intellectual power, natural or acquired, and to seek whatever may favour such action and indulgence. The mind is also disposed to seek what it is led to regard as beauti- ful. Man may, and should above all things, be influenced by the desire to secure moral good and avoid moral evil. Besides these more general motive principles, there are par- ticular natural appetencies which look to ends of their own, KEITHER VIRTUOUS NOR VICIOUS. 417 towards (to use the language of Butler) particular external things of which it hath always a particular idea or perception, towards these external things themselves, distinct from the pleasure arising from them. These are not in themselves either virtuous or vicious. But it should be noticed that they are all excellent in themselves, and in admirable adjustment to the state in which the Author of our being has placed us. Anterior to the abuse which may be made of them, they are of the most beneficent nature, and eminently fitted to promote the welfare of the individual, and of society at large. The mere possession of them, however, does not constitute any one virtuous ; it proves merely the wisdom and benevolence of Him who hath planted them in our natures. In now proceeding to consider some of these principles of action, we shall not be at pains to make a very nice or subtle analysis of them. It is possible that a refined analysis might resolve some of those about to be enunciated into simpler elements ; we look at them in the obvious forms which they assume in the actual operations of the mind. It is of little con- sequence to the object in view, whether they be original prin- ciples, or the natural and necessary result of original principles. It is enough that they be found in the human mind, naturally and intuitively, and anterior to any exercise of the human will producing them. I. There are the Appetites. " This class of our active principles," says Dugald Stewart, " is distinguished by the following circumstances : — (1.) They take their rise from the body, and are common to us with the brutes. (2.) They are not constant, but occasional. (3.) They are accompanied with an uneasy sensation, which is strong or weak, in proportion to the strength or weakness of the appetite. Our appetites arc three in number — hunger, thirst, and the appetite of sex. Of these, two were intended for the pre- servation of the individual, the third ibr the continuance of the species ; and without them, reason would have been insufficient for these important purposes." He adds, " Our occasional pro- pensities to action and repose are in many respects analogous to our appetites." Had it been our object to point out instances of design in tho works of God, these appetites, connecting as they do the bodily 2D 418 MOTIVE PRINCIPLES frame, on the one hand with external physical nature, and on the other hand with the mind within, might have supplied many instructive examples. Regarding them merely as materials of government, they do still exhibit some traces of design to the reflecting mind. We see how wise and efficient the provision made for the preservation of the race. We see how the appetites compel man to be industrious and laborious, in order to obtain the food needful for their gratification ; and how they render him active on the one hand, and' dependent on the other. With- out these appetites he would have been sluggish and inactive ; or, impelled by propensities merely mental, he would have been rash in his speculations, and imprudent in his actions. They are one main instrument in the hand of God for giving steadfastness to his government, and in making man fulfil the purposes which he has t^ execute upon the earth. II. There are the Mental Appetences. (1.) The appetence for hnoivledge. This principle, in the form of curiosity, appears in children in early life, and in the most savage and primitive states of society. The unknown, the hid- den, have most powerful attractions for the inquisitive spirit of man. The curious prying into a neighbour's character, and the love of news so common in villages and rural districts, show that this principle is found in the lowest grades of society. As the mind is expanded, so is this desire elevated ; and it becomes the love of travelling, the love of history, the love of reading, and the love of science. The traveller encountering the most imminent perils in the burning sands of Africa or the icy regions of the poles, the scholar wasting his strength over the midnight lamp, testify how intense this desire may become in individual minds. The more we reflect, the more must we be impressed with the extent of the influence exercised by this principle upon mankind at large. It is a great incentive to activity among individual minds, and it helps on the improvement of society. Through it the corners of the earth are brought together, and the most distant periods of the past are made to hand down instruction to the present. It brings human character under inspection, and therefore under the control of public opinion, and thus lays great restraints upon human wickedness. Take away the thirst for knowledge from the race, and you sink them beneath NEITHER VIRTUOUS NOR VICIOUS. 419 the savage state, and with no reasonable hope of ever elevating them, (2.) Tlie appetence for esteem. It is a principle of all but universal operation. Most men have a wish to leave a name be- hind them ; some cutting it as it were on the rock that it may endure as long as the earth endures ; others carving it as it were on the bark of a tree that it may last for years, and some writing it as on the sand, but each striving to have some memorial. " We observe," says Swift, " even among the vulgar, how fond they are to have an inscription over tlieir grave." Some, it is true, have in tlieir career of vice fallen beneath this motive, but few have risen above it. Some court the good opinion of the masses, and others of the select few. One man looks down with contempt upon the approbation of the poor, the illiterate, and the vulgar ; but it is because he would stand high in the favour of the rich, the learned, the polite, and the accomplished. The demagogue cares not for the good opinion of the higher and more refined classes of society, and he thinks that he shows his courage in doing so ; but then he is as vain as the other, for he drinks in greedily the applause of the many. Most of those whom the world worships have been the very slaves of this principle. Lord Chancellor Erskine calls it "the inherent passion of genius." Fame is an idol before whom more have bowed than before Baal or Jupiter, Brahma or Budha, or the most extensively worshipped of the gods of heathenism. The sound of human applause is heard by ears commonly regarded as most shut against it. The student hears its rising sound in his closet, and longs to bring forth from his researches a work that may swell the noise yet louder and louder. The politician and patriot listen to it in the shout of the applauding rabble, or in the whispered compliment of some more select, and, as they think, more discerning circle. The soldier hears it louder than the din of battle or the voice of the trumpet, and is prepared to follow it even over the mangled carcases of his fellow-men. It is suspected that it has not been unheard by the monk in his cell, or the nun in her cloister. The very minister of religion has heard its echoes when he is arranging his thoughts for addressing his congregation, and has difficulty in shutting his cars to it when as an ambassador he is delivering the message of mercy to sinners. This desire does not seem to be in itself either virtuous or 420 MOTIVE PRINCIPLES vicious. So far as it is not degraded by being associated vvith human wickedness, it serves most important purposes in tho government of the world. It is one of the most potent of those principles by which, in spite of prevailing selfishness and malice, the race are banded together. It is the true source of much that we call amiability, or that spirit which leads us to study the temper, the tastes, and feelings of our felloAv-men. Many of the schemes for ameliorating the condition of mankind have origin- ated in this feeling rather than in any spirit of enlarged benevo- lence. Take away this intuitive principle, and many communities of mankind would become dens of wild beasts, with their inter- ests and their passions engaging them in never-ceasing conflicts. (3.) TJte appetence for poicer. This principle, which seems to exist to some extent in all minds, exercises a prodigious sway over certain minds, and may become one of the deepest passions of the human breast. It is a peculiarity of it, that, more than any other of the intuitive desires, it seems to increase with exer- cise and gratification, and it comes at length to seize the mind with an iron grasp. In regard to some other passions, the mind is often led to discover their vanity, and to abandon with disgust the objects pursued for years; but the love of power seems to grow with advancing years, and holds its possessor in a state of more slavish subjection tban he holds those who have submitted them- selves to his sway ; so that every tyrant is himself ruled over by a tyranny more grasping than that which he wields over others. Looking at this principle as it is in itself, and not in its sinful excess, it must evidently have a powerful influence in uniting mankind together. The patriarchal, the chieftain, and the mon- archical systems deiive much of their strength from it. It is the cement of much of the combined action that produces such mighty effects. It is seen and felt in republics, as well as in monarchies. The leader of a band of his school-companions, of a troop ot youths, of a village, of a valley, of a town or country, of a power- ful state party, of a cabinet or a parliament — these may all be under its sway no less effectually than the monarch upon the throne, and may each be the nucleus around which there cluster numbers who would otherwise be isolated in all their actions, and wavering and unsteady in all their movements. All unknown to the parties themselves, wave has rolled on wave to keep this NEITHER VIRTUOUS NOR VICIOUS. 421 world from stagnating, and all perhaps under the attracting power of some satellite, which is itself attracted to a planet roll- ing round a central sun. It is thus that one great central energy, one great rnling mind, has held together and swaj^ed the destinies of kingdoms, and reached in its influence through successive generations. (4.) The appetence for society. This is a propensity which man may resist under the influence of other and stronger pro- pensities ; still it is one which every human being feels. " It is not good for man to be alone." The hermit draws such praise from his admirers, just because he is resisting one of the strongest princi[)les of our nature. Nor is it needful, in sui)port of our argument, to plead that this love of society is a principle which cannot be resolved into anything simpler. It may very possibly be the result of other feelings, which are called forth by the very position in which man is placed. Still it cannot be doubted, that it is of spontaneous growth in the human mind, and is not the result of any voluntary and far-sighted calculations. Spring- ing up, as it does, under the influence of natural causes, it is made to accomplish many important results. It lightens many hours that would otherwise be intolerably heavy, and perfumes, by the kindnesses which flow from it, the very atmosphere which society breathes. Hence many of the amenities of society, and the numberless offices of kind and obliprins: neiirhbourhood. It raises a smile upon many a countenance that would otherwise Kettle into a murky sulkiness ; and calls forth many a cheerful remark, pleasant anecdote, and smart repartee, from lips that would otherwise be sealed in silence. This power may not act at large distances ; but, like capillary attraction, it holds bodies that are near compactly together ; and banding as it does each little circle, and the members of each little circle being connected with the neighbouring circles, it reaches in its influence over the whole of society. (5.) The appetence for property. Some analysts of the human mind have resolved this principle into a modification of the love of power. Be it so, it is not the less a spontaneous product of native principles. And in whatever other element it may originate, it becomes at last an independent principle of action. In some of its forms it may appear to be about the most sordid of all human passions. But speaking of it, not in the abuse of it, 422 MOTIVE PRINCIPLES NEITHER VIRTUOUS NOR VICIOUS. but as it is in itself, it wields a most powerful influence, holding men as by gravity to this earth on which God has placed them. In some of its aspects, nothing can be more irrational than to toil for years, as many do, for property which is never to be enjoyed, and from which they must speectily be separated. Still the very habit has given steadiness of aim and a spirit of caution to indivi - dual minds, and the general issue is the accumulation of wealth, with the powers which wealth puts in operation. More bene- ficial still, there are the refinements and the elegances which wealth produces, and the conservatist feeling which the existence of valuable property spreads throughout the more influential portion of the community. Satirists may ridicule wealth as they please, and describe the poorest nations as the happiest ; still it cannot be denied that accumulated property tends to produce an elegance and a social order which cannot be found in communis ties stricken with poverty and constantly striving about the very necessaries of existence. Now, these appetites and ajDpetences are among the most in- fluential of the principles by which human nature is governed. The will may erect upon them, or by them, a calculating self- love which strives to obtain as much enjoyment as possible, or a habitual benevolence which deliberately seeks the good of others ; l)ut it is by the primary impulses fully as much as by the secon- dary principles of self-love and benevolence, that mankind are induced to maintain an outward decency of deportment, and so- ciety at large is made to clothe itself in becoming decorum. Some of these principles give life, movement, and onward pro- gress to society, and others impart to it strength and endurance. Some act with a springing, elastic force, and others have a gra- vitating power. Some tend to disjoin what ought to be sepa- rated, and others to band together the things which should be united. The implanting of these principles — diverse from one another, and yet all tending to the same end — shows how admi- rable is the provision made for the social order of the world. Yet so far as mankind are under the influence of these prin- ciples they are neither virtuous nor the opposite. It is to be remembered, however, that the very possession of these intui- tions, like the possession of high intellectual qualities, brings along with it additional responsibility, and, when they ara abused, additional guilt. THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 423 SECT. IL — THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. The Emotions are called forth by the Motive Principles, spoken of in last section. It is of some moment to establish this. First, we would have it observed, that in every emotion there is a mental representation, or apprehension of an object. This conception is the substance from which feeling is exhaled as fra«;rance is from the rose or lily — it is the body, of which feeling is as it were the accompanying atmosphere. Thus when hope is kindled, there is the apprehension of an object as about to bring good to us ; when fear is roused, there is the representa- tion of an object as about to produce evil. Emotions are thus dependent on the mental representations to which they are at- tached ; though it is to be carefully observed that they are something more, as consciousness clearly attests, than the mental conception upon which, as well as upon the general train of as- sociation, they exercise a powerful influence. The Author of our nature in making the conception of certain objects emotional, has added vastly to man's capacity for enjoyment, and has pro- vided for himself a powerful instrument of government. But all conceptions are not accompanied with emotion ; — and the ques- tion arises, what are the objects or the conceptions of objects which are so ? This leads us to remark — Secondly, the conceptions which raise emotions are of objects which gratify or disappoint the motive principles of the mind natural or acquired. Nothing raises emotion except the con- templation of an object bearing a reference to them : every object conceived as furthering or frustrating these motive ends raises less or more of feeling. We have in a previous part of this treatise (p. 266) pointed out the peculiarities of emotions ; they are characterized by attachment or repugnance and excite- ment. All objects gratifying the motive propensities call forth attachment, whereas all objects which seem to thwart them are viewed with aversion, and all such attachments and aversions put the mind in an excited state. The objects thus appetible or the reverse are regarded by the mind as good or evil — and these phrases may be applied to them in a loose sense, and provided they are not understood as implying anything moral or immoral^ 424 THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. It is always to be remembered that above these motive princi- j)!os and emotive attachments, we have the conscience, whose office it is to say when they should be gratified, and when they should bo restrained, and also the will to decide between com- peting impulses or between inclination and duty. We are to consider the emotions exclusively under one aspect, that is, as means of government. As viewing them in this light the common divisions or classifications will not suit our pur- pose, and so we are necessitated in the notice we take of them to form an arrangement of our own. These emotions, like the other instruments employed by God, physical and moral, con- template two ends, one of incitement and encouragement, and another of restraint and arrest. The emotions may all be viewed under this double aspect. To every emotion of the one class, there is a corresponding emotion of the other class. Thus — (1.) Some are instigative, and others arrestive ; (2.) some are adhesive, and others repulsive ; (3.) some are remunera- tive, and others punitive ; (4.) some are responsive to jot, and others responsive to sorrow ; (5.) some raise .a:sTHETTO admiration, others a sense of repugnance. I. There are the emotions which arise from the contemplation of possible or probable evil or good, they are the Arrestive AND Instigative. The conception of evil, as about to come upon us, leads to apprehension, fear, dread, terror, according to the greatness or probability of the evil. This is in itself an agi- tating frame of mind, and so rouses the mind from lethargy ; and, like all emotions, it quickens the train of thought clustering round the object, and thus suggests means of escape from the apprehended peril. The apprehension of good as about to be conferred, on the other hand, leads to hope and expectation ; and the buoyancy of spirit produced prompts us to use the means required in order to procure the contemplated good, and helps to prepare for its reception. To the same class are to be referred, as partaking of the nature both of the arrestive and in- ■stigative, those emotions of astonishment, surprise, and wonder which arise on the contemplation of new, unexpected, and strange ;phenomena. and in regard to which the mind is not aware, for a •time, whether they may be for good or evil. The emotions now named tend to summon the attention, and to brace the mind to meet the emergency. We owe to the arrestive feelings much of THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 425 the caution which prevails among mankind, with all the hardy virtues which grow upon caution. We owe to the instigative feelings a large ]iortion of human energy and activity. One- half of man's exertions, and more than one-half of his happiness, proceed from hope. Where there is hope, there will generally be some life ; when hope ceases, action also ceases. God in his administration employs both these classes of emotions ; by the one, he can cast at particular times, as at the time of a plague, for instance, a gloom accompanied with utter helplessness over the minds of a whole community ; and by the other, send forth half a continent, as was done in the times of the Crusades, on some great enterprise. II. There are those which arise from the contemplation of persons and objects as supposed to possess good qualities, they are the Adhesive and Kepulsive. In such cases the mind experiences a delight in the contemplation of the object, and specially in the presence of the object as fitted to make that contemplation more vivid, and also a tendency to cling to that object. Opposed to these feelings we have another class, leading ns to abhor and turn away from certain objects, as supposed to possess evil qualities : they are the feelings of aversion and hatred. When we are led to contemplate persons as having conferred fovours upon us, we are inclined towards them by a feeling which, if not gratitude, (for gratitude, as implying wish, is a virtue.) is often the incentive to gratitude. When we con- template them, on the other hand, as inflicting injury upon us, we are led to repel them from us or to flee from them : and the emotions that arise are anger, indignation, and such-like feelings, no way sinful if unaccompanied with sinful desires. Every moralist has observed how admirable the provision which is made through these instinctive affections for the instant repul- sion, and ?o tbe prevention of injuries. The feeling arms the mind on the ir:stant with weapons, and provides it with resources to check or throw back the evil, when cool reflection might be too slow or too feeble in its operations. It has often been noticed, as another beautiful provision, that all the benign affections are pleasant at the time, while all the malign afiectious are unpleasant ; and by this means, as well as by many others, God would lead us to cherish the former, and to expel the latter ns soon as possible. Eevenge, even when successful has within 426 THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. it its own punishment — a revenge of the revenge. The Greeks represent Medea as successful in wrapping the bride of whom slie was jealous in a burning robe ; but, to show the nature of her enjoyment in consequence, she is spoken of as going off in a chariot of serpents — no unfit emblem of the feelings which ac- company gratified resentment. III. There are the feelings which spring up on the contem- plation OF ENJOYMENT AND DISAPPOINTMENT. They might bc called the remunerative and punitive, provided these phrases could be used as implying nothing moral, but merely as indicat- ing that these emotions are the results of steps that have gone before. They are the emotions which arise on the contemplation of the good or the evil as already attained. They are such emo- tions as gladness, joy, and complacency on the one hand, and grief and depression on the otlier. They compose a large portion of the enjoyment which the good, so long expected, it may be, con- fers, and a large portion of the miseries which the loss entails. They constitute the mental elevation and the mental depression to which success and disappointment conduct. They become, in consequence, among the most potent of the instruments of the Divine government. IV. There are the emotions which beat responsive to the JOYS AND SORROWS. Man is so constituted that he experiences emotion not only when he contemplates good and evil as ac- cruing to himself, but good and evil as accruing to others. This is one of the most beneficent parts of his constitution. This sympathy is a powerful means of lessening sorrow and increasing happiness. " A friend," says Jeremy Taylor, " shares my sorrow, and makes it but a moiety ; but he swells my joy,,and makes it double. For so two channels divide the river and lessen it into rivulets, and make it fordable, and apt to be drunk up at the first revels of the Syrian star ; but two torches do not divide but increase the flame ; and though my tears are the sooner dried up, when they run upon my friend's cheeks in the furrows of compassion, yet when my flame hath kindled his lamp, we unite the glories, and make them radiant like the golden candle- sticks that burn before the throne of God, because they shine by numbers, by unions, and confederations of liglit and joy," It is a bountiful provision that in ordinary cases sympathy with sorrow is vastly more intense than sympathy with joy. The THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. 427 Joy cfin do with or without the sympathy, but the sorrow needs and demands the sympathy to alleviate the grief, or stir up action which may remove the cause of it. V. There are the esthetic feelings, "whether of admira- tion OR aversion. The love of the beautiful, of the picturesque and sublime, does not seem to be very strong or sensitive in rude states of society or in uncultivated minds. To such, the taste, if keen and active, must have been a source of pain more than of pleasure, for there could have been little time for its gratifi- cation. Still, even to such, there are scenes and objects which possess a deep interest — such as the grassy slope, the fertile plain, the flowing river, and the cheerful and smiling counte- nance. But among persons blessed with leisure and learning, this affection becomes very powerful, and embraces a far wider range of objects. As the order that is iu nature leads us to put trust in it, so these aesthetic emotions lead us to love it, to delight in it ; and we become attached to certain objects, animate and inanimate, because of the feelings which they raise up in our bosoms. It is pleasant to observe that, while there is a general correspondence of taste among all, there are important differ- ences, inasmuch as different individuals admire different objects. Opposed to the emotions of admiration, there seem to be feel- ings of repugnance ; but these latter are comparatively weak, and seem to be intended to keep us from dwelling amid the more ignoble and deleterious parts of nature. The feelings of admiration, on the other hand, tend to make us observe and linger among the more important works of God, and are one most powerful means of leading mankind to cultivate a pro- priety and decorum of demeanour.* But we cannot understand the nature of the affections and passions by merely looking at the individual emotions. One of the most wonderful characteristics of the emotions, in our ap- prehension, is their power over the train of thought. The affec- tions and passions do not consist so much of single emotions, as of trains of emotions, or of trains of thought, all of an emotional kind. The pleasing affections consist of a succession of ripples, the passions of a succession of gusts and waves ; and in both there is apt to be a tidal ebb and flow. Whenever the mind is * A full enumeration of the emotions should include at this place the Moral Emotions • but these have been discussed in a previous chapter, (pp. 302-806.) 428 THE EMOTIONS AND AFFECTIONS. deeply moved, there is a tumult of thoughts and feeliijgs, crowd- ing like a mob round a point ; and 5-et often, like that mob, scarcely able to tell what is bringing them together. It is this tendency to run in a train which renders these emotions among the chief sources of human happiness and human misery, and about the highest reward of the well-regulated, and the most fearful punishment of the ill-regulated mind. We have entered so fiir upon the examination of the emotions, to show how fitted they are to become instruments of govern- ment. Like aeriform bodies, they are elastic — admitting ot great extension, and great compression ; and also all-penetrat- ing, and admitting of great rapidity of action. They are seen to be especially powerful, when we reflect that God can employ the physical world, in correspondence with these internal feel- ings, to turn mankind as he pleases, in spite of their rebellion and folly. But we must be careful, in speaking of these emotions or affections, to distinguish between them and the attached consent, wishes, and volitions of the mind. These emotions do commonly lead to wishes and desires ; but wishes and desires are always something more than mere emotions, and may be virtuous or vicious, which mere emotions never are in themselves. And this distinction enables us to settle the question, so often dis- cussed, as to the virtuousness or the sinfulness of the natural affections. None of them is either the one or the other in itself; nor can there be any moral element, till they stir up desire, or at least secure the consent of the will. Do our attachments lead, as they are intended, to true benevolence ? — then the complex affection is virtuous ; but it is so because it contains benevolence. Do the repulsive passions stir up, as they too frequently do in man's disordered nature, revengeful wishes ? — then they become sinful from that instant. In every case, the moral good or the evil lies not in the affection itself, but in its accompanying desire or volition. So far as the emotions are disconnected with virtuous or sinful wishes and voluntary de- tenninations, they have no moral character whatever, but are mere instruments employed in the Divine adniinistration. Yet how much of human virtue, so called, consists in the mere pos- session of the benign emotions ! Alas ! how much of moral evil, properly so called, consists in the abuse of these parts of our GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. 429 admirable constitution ! Indcod all actual sin seems to consist in voluntarily allowing, following, or exciting motive ininciples condemned in that particular exercise by the law of God.* SECT. III. — GOVERNINQ PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. We are now entering on topics of considerable difficulty and delicacy. Some sensitive minds shrink from the anatomy to which we are to subject human motives, and the manner in which, in our dissection, we must lay bare the muscles and organs of human life. But bold spirits have entered this region, and drawn from it the most pernicious doctrine, and we must follow them, were it only to counteract the evil use which they have made of their observations. In this inquiry, great care must be taken, first, not to make Grod chargeable with the evil principles, which serve a useful purpose in the government of the world ; and, secondly, to show, that though there may be beneficial ends served by the sinful affection or principle, the guilt of the agent is not thereby diminished. There is a constant tendency in the present day to fall into the latter of these errors. Crimes are discovered to be links in the chain of causes on which hang good and glorious results ; and, in approving of the issue, historians have sometimes been inclined to justify all the steps which have led to it. One class of writers, delighted with the order, the peace, and physical comfort found under some despotical governments, have been led to transfer their praises to the very acts of tyranny and * Certain moralists have got themselves confused in their estimate of man, by observing that moral evil lies in the abuse of principles good in themselves. They give to man all the credit of the good principle, and excuse the evil on the ground that the motive principle in itself is good. But they forget that the instinctive principles of action, while good in this sense, that they have a beneficial tendency, do not imply any moral good on the part of the possessor, unless a good action of the will has attached itself to them. The sin consists in an act of the will per- mitting or causing that which God has made good to become evil. It has been said that man cannot, in his greatest violence of wickedness, desire moral evil as moral evil, but for some ulterior end. Be it so, tiiat God has so fenced human nature by this limitation of instinctive motive principles, it is certain that man does all he can in wickedness, for be allows and chooses moral evil, knowing it to be evil as a means of gratifying inferior motives. 430 GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. cruelty whicli have been instrumental in producing such bless- ings. Another class, observing how political convulsions have led to great social improvements, have been tempted to excuse the pretension, deceit, and violence employed to ferment the popular mind. Some of those writers who profess to be elevated above all prejudice, in the way of showing their affected candour, have allowed the issue of actions to influence their moral senti- ments, and have forgotten that virtue is virtue, and that vice is vice, independently of the incidental results flowing from them. Literature is never engaged in a work more unbecoming its high functions, than when it is shedding a halo around suc- cessful crime, or disparaging the excellence of humble and un- successful merit. Arnold asks "whether the Christian ever feels more keenly awake to the purity of the spirit of the gospel, than when he reads the history of crimes related with no sense of their evil." Never is history fulfilling its high office so appro- priately as when it is stripping splendid vice of its flilse colours, and calling attention to the flower which would otherwise bloom in the shade, unnoticed by the vulgar eye. But while history and philosophy must specially guard against the prepossessions which fortune instils, they are most assuredly at liberty to contemplate and to weigh the good effects which will at times flow from actions evil in themselves. While they denounce in no measured language the perpetrators of the crimes, let them praise the administration of God, who can bring good out of evil, and control such rebellious elements. Meanwhile, we observe what is the nature of the pillars on which the world destined to destruction is supported, and what fearful effects must follow when God's purposes are finished with them, and these pillars are taken down. (1.) Attention was called, in a former section, to the beneficial effects following from the intuitive desires, which are neither virtuous nor vicious in themselves. Let us now contemplate the results when these principles are abused and become vicious. In themselves, all the actions which proceed from such per- verted desires are evil. No attempt should be made to defend them on the ground of their consequences. To palliate them is to palliate sin. To approve of them is to partake of their guilt. Yet every one sees, that in this sinful world there are certain effects which are good in themselves, following from vanity and GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. 431 ambition. Take away these incentives to action, and it is im- possible to calculate how much earthly excellence would bo taken away, or rather to say how little would remain. " All the works of human industry are, in a great measure, referable to ambition of some sort, that, however humble it may seem to minds of prouder views, is yet relatively as strong as the ambition of the proudest. We toil that we may have some little influence, or some little distinction, however small the number of our in- feriors may be."* We are not denying the existence of genuine philanthropy ; it requir<3e, however, but a very little acquaintance with the lives of poets, statesmen, artists, warriors, and philoso_ phers too, to gather from the motives which they avow, that, but for the praise of men, and the influence expected to be obtained, they would not have made such sacrifices or practised such self-denial, and the world would not have reaped from their labours the benefit which has accrued. The advantages arising from frugality, and this even when it assumes the form of avarice, have been pointed out by the fether of political economy. " Parsimony," he says, " by increasing the fund which is destined for the maintenance of productive hands, tends to increase the number of those hands, whose labour adds to the value of the subject on which it is bestowed. It tends, therefore, to increase the exchangeable value of the annual pro- duce of the land and labour of the country. It puts into motion an additional quantity of industry, Avhich gives an additional value to the annual produce."f Such are its effects in an economic point of view ; and its influence in spreading a spirit of caution, prudence, industry, temperance, and fbresight, throuo-h- out a community, are not less salutary. The virtues of poorer nations, and of the labouring classes, are all intimately connected with that frugality on which parents set so high a value and which they are accustomed to recommend to their children. But it has not been observed by Dr. Adam Smith, that in the overruling providence of God beneficial effects also follow from the opposite spirit, that of prodigality. " It is quite obvious," pays Malthus, " that the principle of saving pushed to excess would destroy the motive to production. If every person were satisfied with the simplest food, the poorest clothing, and the meanest houses, it is certain that no other sort of food and * Brown's Lectures, Lect. Ixviii. t Wealth of Nations, B. III. c, iii. 432 GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. clothing would be in existence ; and as there would be no ade- quate motive to the proprietors of land to cultivate well, not only the wealth derived from convenience and luxuries would be qaito at an end, but, if the same divisions of land continued, the pro- duction of food would be prematurely checked, and population would come to a stand, long before the soil had been cidti- vated."* It has not been observed, either by Smith or Malthus, that it is by the free operation of both that national wealth is promoted. The latter, indeed, speaks of an intermediate point, at which the " encouragement to the increase of wealth is the greatest." But truly it is not by this happy medium that the economic prosperity of a nation is fostered, so much as by giving full liberty to both extremes ; and the issue is, that capital is accumulated by the frugality of one section of the community, and is again lavished on productive labour by the prodigality of another. These centripetal and centrifugal forces are held in balance by the nice arrangements of the providence of God, and according as the one or other prevails, so is the path which a nation describes — so is it planet-like or comet-like in its orbit. We see how a nation may owe its commercial and political pro- sperity, not so much to the wisdom of its statesmen or citizens, as to tire skilful adjustments of the government of God. These remarks apply to the abuse of all the instinctive springs of action in the human breast, and it is not needful to treat of them in order. The love of society, for example, while it encourages extravagance, and often leads to bankruptcy, gives rise meanwhile to those pleasing qualities which are expressively called social. The ages and nations which have been most addicted to sociality, as England in the reign of Charles II., and France in the reign of Louis XIV., have also been characterized by their politeness, and the flow of pleasing conversation. (2.) Nay, there are incidental advantages springing from the mahgnant passions, under some of the aspects in which they present themselves. No doubt, these passions would be im- mingled evils in a world in which sin was otherwise unknown. In the actual world they are also evils ; but then, to keep wickedness from becoming intolerable, the evils are made to counteract each other, as, in another departmeat of God's works, one species of insect and wild beast is made to destroy another. * Political Economy, p. 8. GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. 433 In a world in which intentional ill-usage and injustice were unknown, the passions of anger and resentment would have been useless, or worse than useless. But it cannot be denied, that in the real world the resentful passions are often the means of scaring pei'sons from the infliction of injury, when higher prin- ciple could have accomplished no such end. Full of injustice as this world is, insults and injuries would have been much more frequent, but for the instinctive passion which is ready to rise up and redress the wrong. Sinful though private feuds, duels, and the majority of wars have been, it is evident, notwithstanding, that they have been the means of checking other evils which v/ould have spread inextricable disorder throughout society. True it is that this circumstance does not lessen the sinfulness of the evil passion, nor does it show that other and innocent and far more effectual restraints might not have been laid on these evils, than are laid by instruments which in themselves are evil ; yet it proves, tliat while the government of God does not create either evil, it uses one evil to restrain another. Ws have often been struck, in reading the narrative of the Old Testament, to find one wicked man employed to punish anotl.er. This feature of the Divine government comes out, very strikingly, in the declining age of the history of the Hebrews, and more particularly of the ten tribes. Jeroboam is employed to punish the house of David ; Omri, in a later age, is rait3ed up to punish the house of Jeroboam ; while Jehu appears at ftn opportune time, to avenge the evil wrought by Omri and his descendant Ahab. The method is observable throughout the whole economy of God's providence, as revealed in the sacred volume. Egypt, Nineveh, Babylon, and Persia, are made the instruments of punishing the Jews, and themselves are punished for the evil which they wrought. We have at times wondered at this, and felt as if there was something in it which seemed to reflect on the Divine government. But then, we observe the same method in operation in the world around us ; and we have only to consider, that as God is no way participating in the guilt of parties who are left entirely to their own freedom, so he is no way implicated in their conduct by the use to which he turns it. Envy itself, though among the basest and most malignant of human passions, has served certain purposes of restraint. Not that we would excuse, much less defend, this mean passion. It 2 £ 434 GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. withers under the sunshine of another's prosperity, and ever springs up most luxuriantly upon decayed fortunes, and the wrecks of blasted reputations. It wounds, with its serpent tongue, the very fairest forms of earthly greatness. The lovelier the flower, it is the more eager to light upon it. Yet it cannot be doubted that, evil as it is, it has counteracted evils which would otherwise have hurried away individuals and society at large into the extreraest folly. There is ground for the name which Crabbe represents flattery as giving to it when he calls it " virtue's jealous friend." It is a means of checking the love of fame on the part of individuals, and of the admiration of great men on the part of the public, Avhen these might become ex- cessive. It may be argued, too, that without such a principle operating as a check, the vain, the forward, and the audacious, would, by means of hypocrisy and pretence, delude mankind into the greatest extravagance and follies. It would be vastly better, no doubt, that these pretensions were checked by the good sense and high moral feeling of the community; but in the absence of these, envy has been serviceable in accomplishing the same end. Of use in detecting simulated, it is also of service in increasing real excellence ; and ifc makes the truly great man still greater, inasmuch as it compels him to cultivate habitual circumspection, and prompts to farther exertion when he might be induced to give himself over to indolence, as the gadfly buzzing round the ox rouses him from his lethargy, when he would recline too long 'Under the shade. It is not unworthy of being observed, that those who have their character fully established rise at last for above the reach of detraction. The great man is like the lumi- nary of day, which, as it circles above the horizon, pales the wax tapers which before shed their feeble light ; for a time they cast their blackening shadows ; but as he rises higher and higher, all the shadows vanish. Some persons may be inclined farther to assert, that envy is so far advantageous, inasmuch as, attacking only prosperity, " while misery passed unstung away,"* it so far equalizes the inequalities of external fortune. There is no one who does not lament the prevalence of evil- speaking under its various forms. Every one has seen its fatal effects, for it reigns among all classes, from our rural districts and retired hamlets, up to the circles of the nobility and the * Crabbe. GOVERNING PRINCIPLES THAT ARE EVIL. 435 court of the sovereign. Yet who can tell how many incipient vices have been checked by this scandal, or the salutary dread of it ? In this wicked world, it sometimes serves the same purpose as those insects which are the scavengers of nature — it prevents society from becoming intolerably coirupt and putrid. It would be infinitely better, no doubt, could mankind be induced to avoid the appearance of evil through a becoming fear of the evil itself, or by a discerning and wholesome tone of public sentiment ; but when these are wanting, jealousy may serve a good end, even when it is far from being pure in its motives, or select in the means which it employs. Meanwhile, the virtuous man must be deteiTed from the evil by higher principles, and be on his guard against countenancing the scandal, even when he sees that beneficial effects may be produced by it. Another subject of general lamentation is the evil produced by party spirit in politics and religion. Lord Brougham, in a well-know^n passage, supposes all the statesmen of last century arranged before us as in a picture-gallery, and a stranger coming to survey them. " Here," would that stranger say, " stand the choicest spirits of their age, the greatest wits, the noblest orators, the wisest politicians, and the most illustrious patriots." " Hero stand all these ' lights of the world and demigods of fame ;' but here they stand, not ranged on one side of this gallery, having served a common country. With the same bright object in view, their efforts were divided, not united. They fiercely com- bated with each other, and did not together assail the common foe. Their great exertions were bestowed, their more than mortal forces were expended, not in furthering the general good, not in resisting their country's enemies, but in conflicts among themselves ; and all their triumphs were won over each other, and all their sufferings were endured at each other's hands." The Rev. J. A. James quotes this passage, and adds, that the stranger, in surveying the portraits of our theologians, polemics, authors, and preachers, would be compelled to endure the same painful surprise, and indulge in the same sorrowful reflections. And no one should allow himself to palliate this spirit, pro- ceeding from the most selfish and ungenerous feelings in the human breast. Nor is any one entitled to affirm that, though incidental benefit has arisen from it, for higher good would not have sprung from the cherishing of an opposite spirit. It could 436 INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THESE miNCIPLES be demonstrated, we tliink, that the spirit of love would have produced far greater good than the spirit of party, and this a good unmixed with accompanying evil. Still, we must shut our eyes to facts which are every day forcing themselves upon our notice, if we deny that in the existing world, partisanship in politics, and sectarianism in religion, have been made to serve important purposes in the prevention of evil, and the instigation of what is positively good. But for the existence of such a spirit, patriotism would often have languished and died, and persons in possession of power would have been allured onward to acts of most atrocious tyranny. The sifting investi- gation to which public measures are subjected, arises sometimes from the jealous temper with which parties watch each other, rather than from disinterested patriotism. The history of the Church shows how activity among the clergy, and a spirit of reading, inquiry, and reflection, among the great mass of the people, have been produced and fostered by the clashing of opposing sects, when deeper principle and higher feeling might have proved utterly ineffectual. SECT. IV. — INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THESE PRINCIPLES IN BIASSING THE CONSCIENCE. The attention of the philosophic mind of modern Europe was first called to the class of phenomena now to be examined, by Hume, more particularly in his famous Dialogue appended to the Treatise on Virtue. The train of observation has been fol- lowed, too, by Adatn Smith, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, and reappears onco or twice in his Wealth of Nations. It is prosecuted by Macaulay, with his usual splendour of thought and diction, in his remarks on Macchiavelli, and is fondly dwelt on by several other writers of our age. We may first take a view of the phenomena noticed by these acute writers, and then point out the proper use to be made of them. In this, as in many other particulars, Hume has been guiding, in a manner much to be deplored, the thinking mind of our countrymen. It is needful to rectify the conclusions rashly drawn from a class of facts, the existence of which can- not be denied. It is a fact, explain it as we please, that men's moral judg- IN BIASSING THE CONSCIENCE. 437 ments are swayed by the supposed beneficial or prejudicial con- sequences of actions. The mother at Athens murdered hei cliild rather than expose it through life to poverty and growing hardship. The Indian drowns his mother in the Ganges, the CalFre exposes her by some fountain, and tliey justify their conduct on the ground that it is better she should thus perish than drag out a protracted life of misery. The Greeks and Romans defended the practice of suicide, and argued that life should terminate when it ceases to be useful. The modern gentleman thinks it nothing improper to fight a duel, and tells us tliat it is only by such a practice that a nice sense of honour can be maintained. The Frenchman of the days of Louis XIV. prided himself on his gay and gallant behaviour, on his liberty or licentiousness, as necessary to the production of the easy and lively manners which prevailed at that period. Dr. Adam Smith, opening up another vein in the same mine, has shown how fortune, utility, custom, and fashion, have all their influence on the sentiments of approbation and disappro- bation.* He shows hovr the " effect of the influence of fortune is first to diminish our sense of the merit or demerit of those actions which arise from the most laudable or blamable inten- tions, when they fail of producing their proposed effects ; and, secondly, to increase our sense of the merit or demerit of actions, beyond what is due to the motives or affections from which they proceed, when they accidentally give occasion either to pleasure or pain." " The superiority of virtues and talents has not, even upon those who acknowledge that superiority, the same effect as the superiority of achievements." " The agree- able or disagreeable effects of actions often throw a shadow of merit or demerit upon the agent, though in his intention there was nothing that deserved either praise or blame, or at least that deserved them in the degree in which we are apt to bestow them. Thus, even the messenger of bad news is disagreeable to us, and, on the contraiy, we feel a sort of gratitude to the man who brings us good tidings." He shows how custom and fashion influence our moral sentiments. " Those who have been educated in what is really good company, not what is commonly called such, who have been accustomed to see nothing in tho persons whom they esteemed and lived with, but justice, • See Theory of Moral Sentiments, P. ii. sect, iil, P. iv., P. v. chap. iL 438 INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THESE PRINCIPLES modesty, humanity, and good order, are more shocked with whatever seems to be inconsistent with the rules which these virtues prescribe. Those, on the contrary, who have had the misfortune to be brought up amidst violence, licentiousness, falsehood, and injustice, lose, though not all sense of the im- propriety of such conduct, yet all sense of its dreadful enormity, or of the veligeance and punishment due to it." " In certain ages, as in those of Charles II., a degree of licentiousness was associated with generosity, sincerity, magnanimity, and loyalty, while correctness of demeanour is connected with cant, cunning, hypocrisy, and low manners. Hence the vices of the great come to be copied, as associated with politeness, elegance, and generosit3\ From this same cause proceed those requisitions which we malce in reference to professional character, insisting on a clergyman that he be grave, austere, and correct ; and reckoning the spirit and bravery of the soldier an excuse for his licentiousness and dissipation. The relative value set upon vir- tues, and the disapprobation of vices, among diiferent classes of society, all proceed from the same source. Among savages and barbarians, hardiness or superiority to fatigue and pain, and an affected indifference to the softer feelings and sensibilities of the heart, as they are among the most useful, so they are among the most exalted of the virtues. In civilized societies, on the other hand, the virtues of humanity are more respected, and full play is given to the gentler affections of the heart. Hence, too, the virtues and vices that are characteristic of different ranks of life." " The vices of levity are always ruinous to the common people ; and a single week's thoughtlessness and dissi- pation is often sufficient to ruin a poor workman for ever, and to drive him, through despair, upon committing the most enor- mous crimes. The wiser and better sort of common people, therefore, have always the utmost abhorrence of the vices of levity and excess, while they commend the strict and austere virtues. On the other hand, among the upper classes, luxury, wanton and even disorderly mirth, the pursuit of pleasure to some degree of intemperance, the breach of chastity, at least in one of the two sexes, &c., as being less ruinous, are treated with a good deal of indulgence."* Mr. Macaulay has avowedly borrowed from the Scotch meta- * Wealth of Nations, Book v. chap. i. IN BIASSING THE CONSCIENCE. 439 phyBicians, and has used their observations to explain the differ- ent standards of character found in different nations* Amon"r the nations north of the Alps, valour was absolutely needful in order to self-defence, and hence courage came to be ranked among the highest of the virtues, and was supposed to excuse ambition, rapacity, and cruelty — and cowardice to be branded with the foulest reproach ; while all the vices belonging to timid dispositions, such as fraud and hypocrisy, hollow friendship and violated faith, came to be objects of abhorrence. Among the Italians, on the other hand, everything was done by superiority of intelligence ; and they came to regard with lenity those crimes which require self-command, address, quick observation, fertile invention, and profound knowledge of human nature. Much the same difference seems to have existed between the Greeks and Romans in the ages in which they first came into contact — and hence the contempt which each party felt for the virtues which the other commended. " Such," says Mr. Macau- lay, " are the opposite errors which men commit when their morality is not a science but a taste, when they abandon eternal principles for accidental associations." We perceive that, in a recent work, the same general obser- vation is employed to explain and excuse the quibbling of the Greek sophists — it was as useful, the author thinks, as the pleading of modern barristers ; and also to defend that under- stood principle of Greek law which required the accuser in a criminal case to avow that he was actuated by personal feeling — it was, it seems, that he might not be reckoned an oflScious informer.f Such is the train of observation pursued at length by these writers — very much to the disgust, let it be added, of many ingenuous and sincere though perhaps over-sensitive minds, who feel as if the remarks offered were intended to palliate sin, and remove the landmarks which separate vice from virtue. In con- sequence of the use which has thus been made of them, many have turned away with as much loathing as George III. did from everything that savours of Scotch metaphysics. Still it cannot be doubted that the above are real phenomena. To deny them is to refuse to hear the voice of hisksry, or to- * Macaulay's Essays — Maccbiavelli. f See Lewes' Biographical History of Pbilosopbj. 440 INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THESE PRINCIPLES open our eyes on the scenes which are constantly pressing them- selves on the attention. We cannot avoid observing them, but as we do so, let us endeavour to give the right explanation, and rescue them from the improper use made of them. Holding, then, as we do, that there is an indelible distinction between virtue and vice, we maintain that there could have been no such perversions of the moral faculty in a mind, perfectly pure and spotless. The conscience needs only to be enlightened and enlivened to condemn the perversions into which it has fallen in its state of deadness and ignorance. Like the plaintiff who appealed from Philip inattentive to Philip attentive, we can appeal from the conscience misled to the conscience rectified, and the latter will announce, that no excuse should be offered for the manner in which it has been perverted under the influence of sinful and blinding passion or prejudice. In a former chapter, we have pointed out the way in which the conscience is deluded. A concrete fact is presented under a partial aspect, and it pronounces its judgment according to the representation made to it. This representation, or rather mis- representation, is made, directly or indirectly, by the influence of a rebellious will — the true seat of all moral evil. It is only by the help of such a principle that we can, on the one hand, uphold the rectitude of the decisions of the moral faculty, and, on the other hand, admit that in fact many of them are preju- diced and perverted. There is abundant room for the interference of the prejudices of the heart in the representations which are given to the con- science of our own actions and the actions of our neighbours, whenever they are closely connected with our self-interest, our favourite habits, our social, sympathetic, and benevolent feeling's. The father, unable or unwilling to support the child who is yet beloved of him, the child indisposed to expose himself to priva- tions on account of his aged parents, will lend his ear to those suggestions which would allure him to commit an act which, when regarded under a particular aspect, may seem commend- able, but which the mind would utterly abhor, if discerned under all its aspects. That it is really such a prejudice which is sway- ing the judgment, is evident from the circumstance, that in those countries in which females are disparaged, children of that sex, and they alone, are in the way of being exposed. We see, too, IN BIASSING THE CONSCIENCE. 441 how, by the same peculiarity of our nature, fortune and utility must influence the moral judgments. The fairer features of iictions useful to ourselves or others, thete, and these alone, are presented to the mind, which proceeds in consequence to applaud the actions. Deeds which are in themselves vicious come to be popular, and regarded, if not with positive commendation, at least without any abhorrence, because associated with certain pleasing feelings or beneficial results which have flowed from them. All this docs not show, as Hume would argue, that vir- tue consists in utility ; it merely shows that a strong feeling of utility^ like a strong feeling of passion, may influence the moral faculty, and make it pronounce a sentence which it would not have pronounced had it not been so biassed. But reprobating, as we ever must, these perversions of our moral nature, we cannot shut our eyes to the fact, that they have been overruled in many cases so as to bind communities together. Every man complains of the influence which fortune, and even custom and fashion, exercise upon the moral senti- ments ; and we would not complain of these complaints ; they originate in the moral sense, and they tend most effectually to check a flagrant sin. But while the influence of such baser con- siderations upon the sentiments which should be elevated far above them is in itself evil, it may become the occasion of good. A high tone of moral sentiment in a community, it is true, might have been the cause of infinitely greater good ; still the good which can be brought out of that which is in itself evil, is patent to all. Adam Smith* has a whole chapter on the final cause of that irregularity in man's nature, by which fortune comes to influence our sentiments of approbation and disappro- bation. " Everybody agrees to the general maxim, that as the event does not depend on the agent, it ought to have no influ- ence upon our sentiments with regard to the merit or propriety of his conduct. But when we come to particulars, we find that our sentiments nre scarce, in one instance, exactly conformable to what this equitable maxim would direct." This very irregu- larity, he proceeds to show, has promoted the welfare of the Bpecies ; he should have said, in the absence of higher principle, has been the occasion of good. " Man must not be satisfied with indolent benevolence, nor fancy himself the friend of mankind, * Moral Sentiments, P. ii. sect ii. 442 INFLUENCE EXERCISED BY THESE PRINCirLES because in his heart he wishes well to the prosperity of the world." " Nature has taught him, that neither himself nor man- kind can be fully satisfied with his conduct, nor bestow upon it the full measure of applause, unless he has actually produced the ends which it is the purpose of his being to advance." " It is even of considerable importance, that the evil which is done without design should be regarded as a misfortune to the doer as well as the sufferer." " As in the ancient heathen religion, that holy ground which had been consecrated to some god was not to be trod upon but upon solemn and necessary occasions, and the man who had even ignorantly violated it became piacu- lar from that moment, and, until proper atonement should be made, incurred the vengeance of that powerful and invisible being to whom it had been set apart ; so, by the wisdom of na- ture, the happiness of every innocent man is in the same manner rendered holy, consecrated round about against the approaches of every other man, not to be wantonly trod upon, not even to be in any respect ignorantly and involuntarily violated, without requiring some atonement in proportion to the greatness of such undesigned violation." From the same irregularity, or, as we would rather call it, perversion of sentiment, there proceeds the excessive regard paid by certain individuals, or by certain grades of society, ages, or nations, to those virtues which happen to chime in with the pre- vailing tastes, or to be immediately subservient to the interests of the parties. Prudence, outward decency, and caution, a spirit of frugality and industry, come to be commended among certain classes, as if they were all that was required to render the pos- sessor's character pleasing in the sight of God ; while, in other grades of life, a spirit of liberality and courage is supposed to make atonement for every vice. Hence, too, the popularity which attaches to certain qualities which are evil in themselves, because supposed to be the concomitants, and therefore the indi- cations, of pleasing or useful virtues. While we cannot, without partaldng of the sin, commend this spirit, we may observe how it has been one great means of fostering the temperance, the frugality, and the industry which so distinguish certain walks of life, and the spirit of generosity and valour, the chivalry, the romance, and heroism which have been so beneficial in certain stages of fviciety. We may deplore the absence of higher and IN BIASSING THE CONSCIENCE. 443 deeper principle ; but we cannot help admiring, that in tho absence of such, the world is kept from sinking into intolerable degradation, and helped forward in the onward march of civili- sation, by e"vils being made to counteract prevailing evils, and harmony being produced by notes in themselves discordant. Having resolved these phenomena into the perversions of con- Bcience, we are enabled to class along with them, and under the same head, those superstitious fears which have exercised so ex- tensive a power upon mankind. A superstitious terror has been the means of restraining multitudes from crime, when love to God or to virtue would have been altogether ineffectual. Witches and fairies, ghosts and demons, gods and goddesses, the penances in- flicted by the priesthood, and the terrors brought from the invi- sible world, (we allude, of course, to superstitious terrors,) have all exercised a power in keeping back mankind from deeds which would have proved injurious to society. The peopling of the air, the streams, and the woods, with supernatural beings, and of the darkness with ghosts, has deterred from the commission of crime multitudes who could not have been awed by the thought of an omnipresent God. Every one knows how dangerous it is, so far as the peace of society is concerned, to remove even a false religion, till such time as true religion has taken its place ; for, in rooting up the weed, the very grain may be torn up along with it. All statesmen have now come to see, that man cannot do without a religion. It has often been said, that the very worst governments . are better than no government: and a precisely analogous maxim seems now to be adopted in regard to religion, that the very worst religions are better, so for as the peace of society is concerned, than none. Legislators have thence leapt to the conclusion, that the state should countenance every religion ; but this reasoning proceeds on the perilous fallacy that virtue consists in utility, and that virtues and vices pass into each other byinsensible gradations. A higher and juster view of the nature of virtue, and of the essential difference between it and vice, would lead to the very different conclusion : — that, though under obligation to tolerate a religion believed to be false, we are not at liberty directly to countenance it in any circumstances, nor to any extent, without contracting a far greater amount of guilt than those who sin- cerely, though ignorantly, are the votaries of the mistaken faith. Here the remark is forced upon us, that as almost aU changes 444 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. for good in society have been produced by men of earnestness and sincerity, as Carlyle has shown, so it cannot be expected of the legislators and philosophers of the utility school, that they should turn out to be the most effective agents in promoting the utility which they profess so much to esteem. Their principles will lead them to admire martyrs, but not themselves to become martyrs ; for always, when the establishment of truth seems to be impracticable, they will be tempted to yield to the force of circumstances. They who are under the influence of principles which do not change with changing circumstances, are the parties who make circumstances to bend before the energy of their will, and who produce all those revolutions in opinion, in senti- ment, and in action, which have given the impulse to human improvement. ILL0STBAT1VB NoTE (g.)— HUMAN VIRTUES (SO CALLED) AND VICES RUNNING INTO EACH OTHER. " There is not on earth," says John Foster, " a more capricious, accommodating, or abused thing than conscience. It would be very possible to exhibit a curioua classification of consciences in genera and species. What copious matter for specu- lation among the varieties of— the lawyer's conscience, cleric conscience, lay con- science, lords' conscience, peasants' conscience, hermits' conscience, tradesmen's conscience, philosophers' conscience, Christians' conscience, conscience of reason, conscience of faith, healthy man's conscience, sick man's conscience, ingenious conscience, simple conscience," &c.* We are not to enter into this wide field of curious and dark though not uninstrnctive speculation. Having given the general , theory to account for them, we take up merely some points illustrative of man's existing state. It is curious to observe human virtues (so represented by the conscience) and human vices growing on the same root. The modern French novelist is accustomed to exert all his startling art in ex- hibiting the growth of the common vices under fostering circumstances. A child, who never knew what it was to be warmed by human aifection, is placed in circum- stances in which there is no air to nourish the commonplace virtues, while there is a feverish encouragement given to far different qualities. Living in the contempt of the ordinary laws of morality, the child springs up into a bold, heroic, and gene- rous youth, and performs deeds which command our admiration ; — ^he saves the life of another at the risk of his own, or casts his protection over the weak and help- less. No doubt he has a bitter antipathy to certain individuals and sections of the community ; bat he has received kindness from none, and has been treated with cruel scorn and injustice by thousands. What claim has society upon him, except for his revenge, on account of the multiplied injuries inflicted upon him? His vir- tues, set off by the meretricious art of the writer, are all his own ; while his vices, his fights, his robberies, his very murders, can be fairly charged upon the com- munity, rather than upon himself individually, and are relieved by the gallantry and generosity of spirit displayed in the very perpetration of them. Or it is a * Memoirs. VIRTUES AND VICES RUNNING INTO EACH OTHER, 445 ]Bdy of extreme beauty and sensibility who is made to flit before our vision ; and we see bcr sacrificed to family pride or avarice, and bound to a husband whom she sannot love. An attachment sp^-ings up iuvoluntarily in her breast towards a youth of daring courage and the gentlest generosity, who comes accidentally in her way, and reciprocates her affection. Resolutions are formed, and struggles made, with the view of eradicating the attachment, only to be baffled by untoward circum- Btanccs, and cruel usage inflicted on the parties suspected while yet innocent, till they are led or driven to an intercourse wliich, the author tells us, the world ii^its uncharitableness condemns, but condemns in utter ignorance of the circumstances, and which may be regarded as being hallowed, as well as sweetened, by the spirit of devotedness and self-sacrifice with which it is characterized. The healthier English mind recoils from such a picture with a just abhorrence ; and reprobates the literature in which vice is so painted as to be admired. But this same boastful English spirit overflows with feelings of admiration towards a different, and it is supposed, a more perfect picture. We have an attractive view of the country squire — warm-hearted, honest, kind to his tenantry, liberal in sup- plying the wants of the poor, and sticking fast to his political party; and though it is not denied, but rather avowed with self-complacent candour, that he is given at times to excess in drinking, that he swears when in a passion, that at least he has no respect to God in his conduct, or humble submission of heart before his heavenly Governor — Ave are made to forget, or justify all this, in our admiration of his bluff integrity and disinterested charity. Or it is the British merchant that is brought before us in the market-place, open-hearted and open-handed ; or the English yeoman in his sequestered cottage, industrious, respectful to his superiors, and attached to the ancient heads of his house ; but both the one and the other, it is acknowledged without shame, if not with pride, are notoriously not given to peni- tence for sin, or to express love to God, which they do not feel ; nay, it is not con- cealed that they are at times addicted to profanity and gross neglect of sacred duties ; and yet we are made to admire none the less, but all the more, this worldly morality, because it is not rendered offensive by religion. Trulj' our popular novels give us a correct picture of human nature ; but not in the way in which their advocates would have it. They give us a picture, not of the world as it is, but of the world, as the world supposes itself to be. The skilful eye may see, by a deeper skill, in the skilful novel, the tricks to which mankind resort to disguise their characters from themselves, and deck them in assumed colours. If the question related to the relative superiority of the Frenchman's or English- man's feeling, we should have no hesitation in giving the preference to the latter as the healthier ; but the question rather is. Is the feeling of the one or the other what it ought to be ? The Englishman condemns, and very properly condemns, the picture drawn by the Frenchman. But can you deny, says the Frenchman, that tl»e tenderness, the sympathy, the devotedness of my hero and heroine are commendable? No, says the Englishman ; but we are not accustomed to think in our country that fine sentiment excuses open immorality. But the Englishman is too blunt and self-confident to perceive that it is with the same weapons that he defends himself when attacked. Do you not, says he, commend this sterling honesty and openness of character? Most assuredly we do, more than the fine Bentimentality of the Frenchman ; but we feel all the while, that if fine sentiment cannot excuse immorality, just as little can an earthly morality excuse an acknow- ledged ungodliness. That there is truth in the one picture as in the other — in the Frenchman's as in the Englishman's — we frankly admit. We would not disputi 446 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. the co-existence at times of genuine feeling and purposes of heroism in the heart that plans robbery and adultery. We believe that there may be the exercise of sterling honesty, and large liberality, and devoted attachments, in peer and peasant, in merchant and mechanic, altogether unaccompanied with faith in God, or a sense of dependence on him. But just as the Englishman sets little value on the French- man's flowing sensibilities, cherished in contempt of the laws of morality ; so we believe that the man whose conscience is propei-ly balanced, and weighs all things in^equal scales, will not allow himself to be hurried along by a blind admiration of mere instinctive qualities, which either have no respect to God, or set God at open defiance. Let us condemn not only the Frenchman's attempt to cheat us out of our morality by a theatrical exhibition of sensibility, but the Englishman's at- tempt to cheat us out of our reverence for piety, by the attractive and possibly far from faithful picture of a godless morality. Let us mark how human virtues and human vices ever slide into each other, and are not separated, as true virtue must ever be from vice, by a distinct line of demarcation. We find, on anatomizing the characters of great men, who have also been bad men, that their noble qualities are woven like warp and woof with those that are baser, in such a way, that the two cannot be separated. The pride, the {Jelf-assurance, and passion of Robert Burns were indissolubly connected with that uoble manliness and independence of spirit which he delights to display. Rous- seau's exquisite sentiment, and his morbid jealousy and addictedness to sensuality, were associated together in his fine but effeminate and diseased temperament. No man can separate Byron's thoughts, often so grand and yet so wild and loose, JTom his previous history, his early vices, his precocious lusts and passions, with a conscience — roused into activity by the open nature of the rebellion against it — kicking against them. We think it should be admitted in all these cases that we could not have had the one set of qualities without the other — the genius and feeling in the particular form without the previous history, the disordered temper- ament, and the melancholy experience. We could not have had these throes, so indicative of strength, without the accompanying fever. Just as the wound in the body helped Harvey to discover the circulation of the blood; so it has been the rent in these men's nature which has enabled us to look into the living movements of their hearts. Are we therefore to palliate the vice, because of its connexion with the properties which we are constrained to admire ? No ; it were vastly more becoming to suspect the virtues that have sprung from so dubious a source — no, not to condemn the virtues, but to condemn the agent in his supposed virtues, as well as in his vices, because the elements of which the one is composed are about as base as the elements of the other. Proceeding on the idea, that what are commonly called virtues are real virtues, we should find that no line can be drawn to divide them from contiguous vices ; and Hume is right in saying, " All kinds of vice and virtue run insensibly into each other, and may approach by such imperceptible degrees, as will make it very difficult, if not absolutely impossible, to determine where the one ends and the other begins."* It might easily be shown how, out of the same elements of our nature, there may be produced avarice, as well as industry — malice, as well as what is called spirit — vanity, as well as amiability — cowardice, as well as caution. One man is a great hero, another is a great criminal ; if they had but exchanged places, they would also have exchanged characters. Take the common ideas of virtue, and we shall speedily find that the difference between virtue and vice is one «f circumstance, rather than nature— of degree, rather than of kind. What was * Morals, P. ii. sect vL ARGUMENT FROM THE PHYSICAL AND MORAL. 447 esteemed as vice in one rank of life, would require to be regarded as virtue in •nother. Proceeding on the views of the world, and carrying them to their legitimate conclusion, we shall find moral distinctions effaced, and all defined ideaa deranged and confounded. Let us learn, then, to draw back before we reach such an issue, and examine the stability of the ground on which the common notions are built. If it bo true that certain vices spring from the same root as what are supposed to be virtues, it is worthy of inquiry whether these supposed virtues are to be regarded as virtues at all. Every observer of human nature will admit, that the person of most correct demeanour might, under a different training, but with the same internal principles, have fallen into not a few acknowledged vices. This person has been kept right, merely in consequence of a way being hedged in for him, and by the operation of instincts in which there is nothing truly virtuous ; and in another position, these very instincts might have hurried the possessor into open crime. Arc wc therefore to excuse the crime on the part of those who commit it? No, assuredly ; but we are to make a searching inquiry into our mere outward decorum, lest it should turn out to be founded on principles and originating in motives which are no way morally commendable. Let us anticipate, in this matter, the day of judgment, where there will be " innumerable false and imaginary virtues, which will involve their possessors in deeper disgrace than vices themselves when acknowledged and deplored." SECT. V. — SUMMARY OF THE ARGUMENT FROM THE COMBINED VIEW OF THE PHYSICAL AND THE MORAL. In astronomy, the distance of a star is determined by surveying it from two points. In like manner, there seem to be heavenly truths which are ]}est ascertained by taking two positions, and a view from each. It is from a consideration both of the physi- cal and the moral that we obtain the proper measure of the Divine administration. We cannot from the physical alone determine what God and this world are in their relation to one another. Considered in itself, the physical does seem so constituted as to be restrictive of human folly and punitive of human wickedness. But the argument is far from being complete, till we demonstrate, on independent grounds, that human folly and human wickedness exist. We have, throughout the whole of this Treatise, pro- ceeded on the principle, that we cannot connect the facts till the separate existence of each has been ascertained on satisfactory grounds. By a preliminary examination of the Physical, it may be shown to be fitted to promote such and such ends ; but the complement of the argument is derived from the consideration of the Moral, which shows that there are such ends to be served. 448 ARGUMENT FROM THE PHYSICAL AND MORAL. On the other hand, it does not appear, that from a considera- tion of the moral taken separately, we could readily form a pro- per estimate of the relation of God and the world. The internal feelings would be apt to be disregarded by mankind, so inclined to look to the world without instead of the world within, and would certainly be misinterpreted, but for the confirmation furnished by the visible dispensations of Divine providence. As the physical requires the moral, so the moral requires the physical, as its complement in giving a full exhibition of the character of God, and of his administration in reference to our world. We have failed of the object which we had in view, if we have not shown that the two, the physical and the moral, are in complete harmony — a harmony implying, however, that man has fallen, that God is restraining while he blesses him, and showing his displeasure at sin while he is seeking to gain the heart of the sinner. Leave out any one of these elements, and to us the world would appear an inexplicable enigma. Take these truths with us, and there is Bufficient light struck to show, that if we had but farther light, every mystery might be ex- plained ; and we feel that this farther light may be denied us just because of the probationary state in which, according to these truths, we are placed. There is thus introduced a consis- tency into the whole, including even the seeming inconsistencies which, if we cannot clear up, we can at least account for. METHOD OF THE DIYINE GOVERNMENT. BOOK FOURTH. BESULTS— THE RECONCILIATION OF GOD AND MAN. CHAPTER I. NATURAL AND REVEALED RELIGION— THE CHARACTER OF GOD. SECT. I. — ADVANTAGE OF HARMONIZING NATURE AND REVELATION. At tlie close of our extensive survey, it may be useful to collect into a few heads the results which we have been able to gather in our progress. If, in the discussions in which we were engaged in the first book, we felt ourselves merely, as it were, in the vestibule ; we now, after having passed through the temple, feel ourselves to be entering the chancel, the holiest of all. Here we seek to have Gkxl himself communing with us in a supernatural way, to clear up doubts and mysteries, " When I thought to know this, it was labour in mine eyes, until I went into the sanctuary." One of the objects contemplated in this Treatise has been the spiritualizing of nature, which has been so carnalized by many, and in sanctifying it, to bring it into communion with religion. We have often mourned over the attempts made to set the works against the Word of God, and thereby excite, propagate, and perpetuate jealousies, fitted to separate parties that ought to live in closest union. In particular, we have always regretted that endeavours should have been made to depreciate nature, with the view of exalting revelation ; it has always appeared to 2 F 450 ADVANTAGE OF HAKMONIZING ns to be nothing else than the degrading of one part of God's works, in the hope therebj' of exalting and recommending another. It is at all times perilous on the part of the votaries, whether of science or religion, to set the branches of knowledge which they severally prosecute against each other. On the one hand, science cannot accomplish ends truly beneficent, if it make an idol of works of God, and, Parsee-like, worship the sun, and moon, and elements of nature ; and, on the other hand, religion is unnecessarily raising prejudices against itself, and is truly dishonouring God — while it may profess to honour him — when it would discourage inquiry into those works which he has spread around us, which are manifestly inviting us to contemplate and admire them, and rewarding us by a thousand discoveries, when we treat them as we ought to treat the Divine workman- ship, and investigate them with patience and with reverence. Perilous as it is at all times for the friends of religion to set themselves against natural science, it is especially so in an age like the present. We live at a time when all our educated youth are instructed in the elements of natural science, as well as in the more sacred doctrines of theology. We fear that there are many who know not how to reconcile the two faiths in which they have been educated. Meanwhile studious attempts are being made to show that Christianity cannot stand the light of the age in which we live. The impression left is very painful, when the mind imagines that it discovers a discrepancy between two departments of knowledge in which it has been trained, as •painful as if one were to hear it reported of a revered friend, a parent, or brother, that he had committed a dishonourable or criminal action. Thousands have felt in this way, and thousands are at this present time so feeling, as they turn from secular books of science to the Bible, and when they enter our upper schools, our mechanics' institutions, and colleges. The heart of many a youth of promise has been wrung, till feelings more bitter than tears have burst from it, as he stood by the chasm over which no bridge seemed to be thrown. A dark cloud of doubt arising from that gulf has brooded over and settled upon many a mind, and has produced the same effects as a wet and cloudy atmosphere upon the body, damping by its moist and heavy influence all generous confidence, all zeal and enthusiasm. Others, abandoning religion, as laying restraints upon them to NATURE AND REVELATION. 451 which they were not willing to yield, have betaken themselves to the splendid but uninhabited halls of science, and wander through them in wonder and admiration, but without ever finding, or so much as looking for, a governor to rule or a teacher to instruct, a friend, to comfort, or a mediator to intercede for them.* It is no profane work that is engaged in by those who, in all humility, would endeavour to remove jealousies between parties whom God has joined together, and whom man is not at liberty to put asunder. We are not lowering the dignity of science when we command it to do what all the objects which it looks at and admires do, when we command it to worship God. Nor are we detracting from the honour which is due to religion, when we press it to take science into its service, and accept the homage which it is able to pay. We are seeking to exalt both, when we show how nature conducts man to the threshold of religion, and when from this commanding position we bid him look abroad on the wide territories of nature. We would aid at the same time both religion and science, by removing those prejudices against sacred truth which nature has been employed to foster ; and we would accomplish this, not by casting aside and discarding nature, but by rightly interpreting it. Let not science and religion be reckoned as opposing citadels, frowning defiance upon each other, and their troops brandishing their armour in hostile attitude. They have too many common foes, if they would but think of it, in ignorance and prejudice, in passion and vice, under all their forms, to admit of their lawfully wasting their strength in a useless warfare with each other. Science has a foundation, and so has religion ; let them unite their foundations, and the basis will be broader, and they will be two compartments of one great ftibric reared to the glory of God. Let the one be the outer and the other the inner court. In the one, let all look, and admire, and adore ; and in the other, let those who have faith kneel, and pray, and praise. Let the one be the sanctuary where human learning may present its richest incense as an offering to God ; and the other, the holiest of all, separated from it by a veil now rent in twain, and in which, on a blood- sprinkled mercy-seat, we pour out the love of a reconciled heart, and hear the oracles of the living God. * See a very melancholy pictiire of the experience of Jouflfroy in his " SIclangei Nouvelles." 452 ADVA2:ITAGE OF HARMONIZING In the foregoing discussions we have studiously avoided the direct introduction of Scripture, and this for several reasons. First of all, we did not wish to make religion responsible for our speculations, which must stand or fall according to the evidence adduced. Augustine has uttered a proper warning against the identifying of Scripture and human dogmatism, " lest, when a more thorough discussion has shown the opinion which we had adopted to be false, our foith may fall with it, and we should be found contending, not for the doctrines of the Sacred Scriptures, but for our o^vn attempts to make our doc- trine that of the Scriptures, instead of taking the doctrine of Scripture to be ours." We wished to avoid rendering ourselves liable to the rebuke of Bacon in that well-known passage in which he remonstrates with those who seek philosophy in the Scriptures, which he describes as seeking the dead among the living — as the seeking of religion in philosophy is the seeking of the living among the dead. " And this folly," he adds, "is the more to be prevented and restrained, because not only fantas- tical philosophy, but heretical religion, spring from the absurd mixture of things divine and human. It is therefore the wisest, soberly to render unto faith the things that are faith's."* Such weighty considerations, have led us to separate between our own ratiocinations and the dicta of the infallible Word. We were resolved, that if we could not bring any contributions to religion, we should at least keep from injuring it by making it lean upon our views and opinions. We have had another object in view. We wished to contri- bute a quota of evidence to the support of the Divine original of the Scriptures. We were anxious to show that nature, rightly interpreted, so far from setting itself against Christianity, fur- nishes not a little to favour it, and that both give the same views of the character and government of God, and of the nature and destiny of man. But in order to lend such a support, however feeble, to revelation, it is evident that the prop must be built upon an independent basis. We have sought for such a basis, and have found it, as we conceive, in the government of ^ God, as seen in his works, properly comprehended. Nor are we bound to prove, in order to the use of this argu- ment, that the human mind could have discovered all these * Novum Organum. NATURE AND REVELATION. ' 453 doctrines by its native force. It may be doubted whclber, witliout a revelation from God, wc could bave discovered tbe mine iu wbicb we bave been digging ; but tbis is no reason wby we sbould not employ tbe wealth wbicb bas been found tbere in supporting tbe cause of Him wbo bas conducted us to it, Sucb cases of action and reaction in evidence occur in every department of inquiry. Tbe question is not, wbetber tbese views could bave been discovered by unaided reason ; but tbe question is — NoWj wben reason bas been aided, does it not give its sanc- tion to tbe doctrines wbicb we have been expounding ? With- out the telescope we could not bave discovered a multitude of tbe heavenly bodies which are now open to tbe observation thus assisted ; yet it is by these very bodies that the astronomer tries and tests bis instruments. The prop derived from the inter- pretation of God's works may be a support, provided always it bas a separate basis, though it partially lean on the object supported. And hence we are at perfect liberty, and in consistency with all that we bave been urging, to agree with such writers as Halyburton and Leland, when they show the importance of revelation in clearing up the doubts that press upon and weigh down the human spirit. We may acknowledge the necessity of a light from heaven, to enable us to find out the tenitory which we bave been exploring ; but from that territory we may look up with gratitude to tbe light which has guided us, and every new discovery made may demonstrate that it is truly a light from heaven. Our argument is not a moving in a circle, but the reflection of light back upon the body from which it bas come. We are entitled, then, to urge the analogy or correspondence between natural and revealed religion as an argument in behalf of the latter. The phenomena to which the attention bas been called are facts, and they establish the very doctrines revealed in Scripture. Other explanations, we are aware, may be given, and have been given, of some of tbese phenomena ; but we hold that the explanation which we have advanced is the only satis- factory one. Even though it should be regarded only as ac- counting for them better than any other, or as well as any other, still the argument would not be without its force. Taking even the low view, that tbe Scriptures can enable us to explain some of the mysteries of tbe Divine government ; or the still lower 454 PREVAILING DEFECTIVE VIEWS OP one, that the darker phenomena of nature admit of an explana- tion agreeably to the Divine Word — we should find even then a reflex contribution to the Word which has furnished us with such a key. Apart altogether from the evidence in behalf of the Divine origin of the Scriptures, we have obtained, as it appears to us, many instructive and pleasing views of the ways of God, and humbling, yet exalted, views of the character of man. We have entered fields into which the inspired writers do not carry us, and in them we have gathered instruction in unison with the letter and spirit of the Word, and fitted to enable the reflecting mind to make a Christian use of modern philosophy. If it is the will of God that men should use their lofty faculties in investigating the works of nature, it is surely his will that they should also employ them in connecting the truths of nature with the truths of revelation. All cold and distant though some of these truths may appear, we believe that when the light of heaven shines upon them, the thoughtful mind may derive much from them to refresh and quicken the faith, as the snow- covered mountains send forth their streams to water the thirsty plains of torrid climes. SECT. II. — PREVAILING DEFECTIVE VIEWS OF THE DIVINE CHARACTER. There have been ages in the history of the world in which it might have been more needful to bring into prominence what are commonly called the natural attributes of God, such as his omnipresence and omnipotence. But the spirit of this age, fostered by the extensive study of geology, astronomy, and chemistry, always brings these perfections into bold relief, at the risk of causing other properties to sink out of view. We have been endeavouring to bring under notice the phenomena that are fitted to correct certain views of the Divine character, which are so prevalent and yet withal so superficial and inadequate. First, the mechanical view of God. This is the natural product of a mechanical age. It is an age engrossed in studying the mere mechanism of nature, and its idea of God has come to be that of a great mechanician, or an omnipotent engineer THE DIVINE CHARACTER. 455 constructing worlds like steam-engines, to work according to the properties with which they are endowed. An apostle seems to allude to this form of infidelity as about to appear in the latter days. "Since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." Strange it is, that this infidelity, proceeding, no doubt, from the ungodliness of the heart, but taking its specific form and particular direction from the scientific character of the age, should have been spoken of, eighteen centuries ago, by a fisherman of Galilee. This error is to be met, not by an empty declamation against general laws, or a crusade against the discoveries of science, which must prove injurious only to tho party undertaking it ; but by a narrow scrutiny of these general laws, and a resolution of them into their elements ; and, by demonstrating, that God is present in the very midst of those things which continue as they were — present, just as much as he was in the ages of miracles in which the fathers lived, or as he can be in that renewal of miraculous interpositions which may yet take place before the history of our world closes. We shall not succeed in making persons avoid the poison, adminis- tered in food, by denouncing the food, but by carefully separat- ing the one from the other : the most effective method, in short, of rectifying error is to separate the truth from the error with which it has become associated. We have sought to eliminate the truth by exhibiting nature in its full and living action. (1.) In the very operation of physical causes there must always be the presence of two or more bodies, with their several properties bearing a relation to each other, and so adjusted as to admit the action of the pro- perties. (2.) In those general arrangements, so beneficial, which constitute general laws, there are numberless implied adaptations of substance to substance, of property to property, and cause to cause, and all these abiding or recurring in a world of activity and change. (3.) There is a vast number of events falling out, not according to any general order of recurrence,, but individually, and, so far as human sagacity is concerned, incidentally ; and, constituting a power by which, on the one. hand, God accomplishes his specific purposes, and by which, on the other hand, man is rendered completely dependent on hi» Governor. Taking these general facts along with us, we are 456 PREVAILING DEFECTIVE VIEWS OF thereby introduced into the very heart of God's works ; we can discover him alike in the general and the particular, and in the accommodation of both to the character of man. We are now out of that mechanism, which minds of high sentiment feel to be so offensive. We see not only the heart of the mechanism, we see also the very heart of the worker. It is not mere wheel upon wheel, and cylinder upon cylinder — we see now the moving power, and the whole issue contemplated ; and in the connexion between them, we discover the agent displaying his affection and lofty principle, his purity and grace. All nature, before so dull, is now lighted up, but with light, we have to add, too brilliant for those eyes which prefer the darkness. Physical investigation gives the mere bones and muscles, and these very commonly without their connexions. Common na- tural theology gives us these in their adjustments, but without the life, the full form, and expression. Both are too like the plates of bare anatomy, so different from the living form of the human body. But we must go beyond a mere machine — we must go beyond an organism — we must show how the works of God testify of one who lives and acts, who loves his creatures, who indicates his approbation of all that is good, and his dis- approbation of all that is evil. Science, in short, gives us the mere anatomy of the body of nature, instructive, no doubt, in its exhibition of important members and organs ; common na- tural theology gives us the physiology of nature, and shows the full frame in its connexions and beautiful proportions : but the human mind will not rest till, in the region of a higher art, we have also its physiognomy, and nature presented in its living forms, its face radiant with smiles, and the deep lines of thought and character graven on its forehead. Such is the figure we have endeavoured to present, rising beyond mechanism to life, and beyond law to love, and finding the traces of a living God whom we may admire and ti'ust, and, at the same time, revere and adore, and whose image, as we cherish it, assimilates our character to itself. Secondly, the sentimental view of God. This is the product of the poetry as the other is of the science of the times ; or, to go deeper, the one is the creation of the imagination and emotions, as the other is of the mere intellect empirically exer- cised, and both under the guidance of an unholy heart. The THE DIVINE CHARACTER. 457 one view, like the other, is not so much erroneous as it is defec- tive. Let lis clothe the Divine Being with as bright a robe of loveliness as we please ; but let us not pluck from him, mean- while, his sceptre and his crown, or represent him as indifferent alike to evil and to good. We have endeavoured to go down deeper than the mere floating feelings, in which, as in a shining atmosphere, so many envelop a body that is truly dark in itself, and call it the God of Light. (1.) There are arrangements of Divine providence by which God is visibly seen to restrain, to con'ect, and punish mankind. (2.) There is a law in the heart, which leads the possessor to approve of that which is morally good, and disap- prove of that which is evil, and that even when he is neglecting the one and committing the other ; and all this points to a righteousness in the Divine character, which is no less essential to his nature than his benevolence, (3.) There is an evil con- science which charges the possessor with guilt, and reveals im- pending judgments, while it makes known no method of atone- ment, and the whole pointing to an offended God. These are facts pressing themselves on our notice from without and from within, and which we are not at liberty to leave out of account, in forming a basis on which to construct our idea of God. Taking these facts along with us, we rise above a Divinity the mere creation of sentiment. Such a God — with reverence be it spoken — were not worthy to rule this great universe. We have sought to mount to the conception of a God fitted to govern the world, and to aAve mankind into obedience and sub- mission without any detraction from his love. True, he is a God on whom the eye of the sinner determined to continue in his sin docs not delight to rest, and whom the wicked ^vill hate just because they are wicked. But even in the very bosoms of such, God has a witness which testifies that his character is very beautiful ; and which declares that it would be good for man were his eyes so ^ trengthened that he could gaze upon it with pleasure, and were his character shining in the light reflected from it. There are not a few in our day who, instead of contemplating the true character of God, look merely at certain pleasing ac- companiments ; and, instead of the true light, allow their eye to rest upon the clouds gilded by his beams, and which fade, 458 PBEVAILING DEFECTIVE VIEWS OF like the blaze of the evening sky, into darkness while we gaze upon them. We would fix the eye on God himself, shining for ever in these heavens, and whose beams melt that which is hardened, and warm that which is cold on the earth — " As the great sun, •when he his influence Sheds on the frost-bound waters, the glad stream Flows to the ray, and warbles as it flows." — Coleridge. Thirdly, the pantheistic view of God. Pantheism has been compared to a cloud, and it bears to it a resemblance in more respects than one ; — it is capable of great expansion, it bulks largely to the eye, at a distance it looks very like a solid body, it assumes picturesque shapes, and is often beautifully gilded, and when we would seize it, we find it eluding our grasp, and evanishing. It takes a number of forms, and upon our apprehending it, it is apt to perform a metempsychosis, and change from one to another. There is Material Pantheism, according to which it is the material universe, with its laws, its animation, and its thought, the result of organism, which constitutes the only God. There is Organic Pantheism, which speaks of nature as endowed with vitality, and deifies it (to use the language of Carus) as the highest, the most complete, the universal organism. If this mystical language has any realistic signification, it must mean that nature is just a magnificent vegetable, or an infinite brute, and that this vegetable, this brute, is God. There is Ideal Pantheism, which is the form which the system has taken with certain schools of metaphysicians addicted to deep reflection upon the subjective and upon the abstract notions which the mind of man can form. As they gaze upon these the material world disappears from the view as an independent reality, and leaves only a connected series of subjective forms or mental ideas, which are supposed to constitute, at one and the same time, God and the universe. According to Spinoza, this One is sub- stance possessed of thought and extension. According to Fichte, it is a universal ego projecting the universe from itself Ac- cording to Schelling, it is a sort of ethereal essence, developing, according to a law, thought and being, which are identical. With Hegel it is the absolute unfolding itself according to a logical process, in which nothing becomes something, and the ideal the real, and God becomes conscious in humanity. What- THE DIVINE CHARACTER. 459 ever be the shape taken, it is liable to the following among other objections : — (1.) It might be shewn to be inconsistent with the conscious- ness of self, with the consciousness of personality. In all con- sciousness we know ourselves as persons ; in all knowledge ot other objects we know them as different from ourselves, and ourselves as different from them. It follows that all is not God, that God is not all, for we know of at least one eminent excep- tion, and that is ourselves, the object with which we are most intimately acquainted. Pantheism is thus found to be opposed to our very intuitions, to our very consciousness, and no matter what the proof adduced in its favour be, it never can be equal to the evidence against it found in the very constitution of our minds. (2.) It is inconsistent with the traces of adjustment and pur- pose everywhere met with in nature. No form of Pantheism admits final cause, and yet how numerous the traces in God's works of a concurrence of means to produce an end. It is not mere law or development, physical or logical, which can give us existing nature, with its curious coincidences, its intended acci- dents, and pre-determined contingencies, but a mind seeing and ordaining beforehand, contemplating at once the means and the end. Nature tells us regarding itself that it is not a power coeval and co-ordinate with God, but a work planned and exe- cuted by a Maker existing before it, and still existing above it. We have found in the course of these investigations something more than a mere power, or principle, or abstraction ; we have reached a personal God, wdiose character is in his works, but whose works do not constitute his nature or character. The painter's soul is no doubt thrown into Lis painting, and the sculptor's and architect's into their statues and edifices, but their souls meanwhile exist apart, and are capable of other acts be- sides. In a sense as true as it is grand, the soul of the Creator is streaming through tlie order and life of creation, but mean- while he exists independent of and far above them. (3.) It is inconsistent with the possession by man of a sepa- rate and a free will. It is the circumstance that we are pos- sessed of a distinct will which suggests the idea that God is not a law or principle, but a person with a power of voluntary de- termination. As conscious of an inherent and positive freedom, we are led to look upon God as also free. Nay, we go a step 460 PREVAILING DEFECTIVE VIEWS OF flirther, and maintain tliat the possession of voluntary power and freedom on the part of man is a proof that the God from whom these proceeded has a will, and tliis a free \vill. It is not easy to gather, as to certain forms of Pantheism, whether they do or do not attribute will and freedom to God. All forms of Pantheism which do not ascribe a separate will to God, land us in the absurdity of supposing them to produce in man a free will not possessed by himself from eternity. If the other alter- native be taken, and will be ascribed to Deity, then we have two wills in the universe,— the will of God and the will of man ; and it follows that all is not one in any intelligible sense, for we have two distinct wills which may run counter to each other. Whatever be the philosophic system adopted, we have, as a matter of fact, the hundreds of millions of distinct wills possessed by human beings. These separate wills shew by one process that God must have a distinct will, and by another process that there cannot be merely one will in the universe, and they thus set aside every system which declares that "All is One !" (4.) It is inconsistent with our intuitive belief of accountability to God as Judge. There is in man, we have seen, a native principle leading him to distinguish between good and evil, and pointing to a punishment to follow, and to a Being to inflict the punishment. This feeling of responsibility implies that God is Judge, and that we must give an account to him of the deeds done, whether they have been good or evil. But Pantheism must set aside all belief in a personal immortality, and all ap- prehension of a judgment day. Under such a system it is seen to be vain to suppose that God can seriously purpose to punish the sin, or so much as to condemn it, and it is acknowledged that at death the soul is swallowed up and lost in the all-ab- sorbing One. At this point, then, Pantheism comes into collision with irradicable principles of the mind, (stronger far than any arguments which can be urged in its favour,) which announce that we are accountable, that we who are judged must be the same as the persons who committed the deeds, and that God as Judge must be different from those who are judged. A German speculatist has lost himself in the windings of nature, as the traveller will lose himself among the trees and intertangled branches of a forest. There is a way through the wood which humbler men, which peasants know j but which the THE DIVINE CHARACTER. 461 proud will not submit to inquire about, and the}' toil and wan- der amidst gorgeous scenes, and think that they are making progress, and they do turn aside many a branch which would interpose itself in the way, and they exert prodigious strength and amazing ingenuity, but having never found the near way, or the right way, the paths in which they walk either conduct them into deepening thickets of error, or land them nearly at the point at which they started. " By the roaring billows of time, thou art not ingulfed, but borne aloft into the azure of eternity." By the roaring billows of proud speculation, we would rather say, thou art but borne along to that dim region in which we lose sight of thee. No doubt, the imagination is often deceived by the gay drapery in which the object set forth to our contemplation by Pantheism is decked, and the intellect, dizzied by the many turnings of sophistry through which it has been carried before the vision is disclosed, is the less capable of detecting the deception ; yet the heart, mora faithful than the head, will feel at times that it is but a phantom which it is required to love and worship, and that truly within there is neither heart nor life, though there may be grace and motion in the outward form. The worshipper carried through the long avenues of columns and statues, and the splendid halls of the ancient temple of the Egyptian Thebes, was not conducted at last to a more miserable termination, when in the inner shrine he found one of the lower animals, than the follower of a modem philosopher, when conducted through processes, laws, and developments to a divinity who has less of separate sensa- tion, consciousness, and life, than the very brutes which Egypt declared to be its gods. SECT. III. — CHARACTER OF GOD AS REVEALED IN SCRIPTURE. " Hear, 0 Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord." We quote fliis language in the way of adaptation — not in its original mean- ing, (when it simply states the doctrine of the unity of God,) but as expressive of the important truth, that there is a wonderful consistency, or rather identity, in the representation given of the Divine character in the Scriptures. " The God of Israel is one Lord." *•' The Bible itself is a standing and an astonishing miracle. 462 CHARACTER OF GOD Written, fragment by fragment, throughout the course of fifteen centuries, under different states of society, and in different iau- guages, by persons of the most opposite tempers, talents, and conditions, learned and unlearned, prince and peasant, bond and free ; cast into every form of instructive composition and good writing, history, prophecy, poetry, allegory, emblematic repre- sentation, judicious interpretation, literal statement, precept, example, proverbs, disquisition, epistle, sermon, prayer — in short, all rational shapes of human discourse ; and treating, moreover, of subjects not obvious, but most difficult ; its authors are not found, like other writers, contradicting one another upon the most ordinary matters of fact and opinion, but are at harmony upon the whole of their subhme and momentous scheme."* In the language now quoted, reference is made to one of the most convincing of the self-evidencing truths of that Word, which carries within itself its own credibility, and is visible in its own light. We have an example in the thoroughly consis- tent representation given of the character of God. It is the same God exhibited under the patriarchal, the Jewish, and the Christian dispensations. Except in the degree of development, there is no difference between God as revealed in Eden, on Sinai, and on Calvary — between God as exhibited in the books of Moses, and as exhibited so many centuries later in the writings of Paul and John. In the garden, we have the law- giver, and we have indications, too, of the Saviour. On Mount Sinai there is the same combination of awful justice and con- descending mercy. In the mysterious transactions on Calvary, there is an awful forsaking and a fearful darkness, emblematic of the righteousness and indignation of God, as there is also a melting tenderness in the words of our Lord breathing forgive- ness and love, and telling of an opened paradise. The first book shows to us, near its commencement, a worshipper offering a lamb in sacrifice, and the last discloses a lamb as it had been slain, in the midst of the throne of God. To Moses he reveals himself as Jehovah, the Lord God, "merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, . . . and that will by no means clear the guilty." Paul speaks of him as "just, and yet the justifier of the ungodly;" and John, as " faithful and just to forgive us our sins." Whence this harmony * Discourse by Professor Maclagan. AS REVEALED IN SCRIPTURE. 463 or rather nnif-.y in the Divine character ? Whence this wonder- ful correspondence in the portraits drawn by so many different hands ? We can account for it only by supposing that they all drew from one great original. We have endeavoured to show that the God of revelation is also the God of nature, when nature is rightly expounded, and when all its phenomena are contemplated. An exalted view of the spiritual nature of man will at once conduct to a belief in the spiritual character of God. Enlarged conceptions of space and time, and of the magnitude of creation, will at once suggest an omnipotent and omnipresent God. The providence of God indicates wisdom and care, with government the most particular and minute. The moral principle in man, pointing to an excel- lence in God to be admired, but to an excellence which man does not possess, gives evidence of a holy God governing a fallen race. Leave out any of these classes of natural phenomena, and we have a God under some one or other of the partial and distorted forms in which he has been presented in different ages and nations. Combine the whole, and we have a God identical with the Jehovah of the Scriptures. All professed religions have seized on some one or other of the features of God, and their votaries have been determined in the choice made by the prevailing sentiments of their hearts, and the habits in which they have been trained. In those eastern countries in which the mass of the people have been consigned to a slavish subjection to authority, the popular religions have represented the supernatural power as exercising an iron despot- ism, and exacting a deep prostration. The dreamy and medita- tive spirits of the same region, again, have cherished abstractions which widen, and are dissipated more and more, till they are lost in an illusive and ethereal nonentity. Among the more active spirited, and liberty-loving nations of western Asia and eastern Europe, the popular faith became more individual, personal, and anthropomorphic, and they approached their gods with a greater feeling of familiarity. Each divinity among the Greeks had a special character with special objects of interest, and the Pan- theon embodied all the popular virtues and vices of the country. In less civilized countries, where the inhabitants ranged through wide forests and over rugged mountains, and the tribes were generally at fierce war with each other, the presiding divinities 4G4 CHARACTER OF GQD^ were painted in colours of blood, or in robes of darkness. And let us observe how, in each of these pictures, there is the seizing of some real feature of the character of God, though fearfully- distorted, and brought out with horrid prominence. Vulgar minds would ascribe all this to the priesthood, forgetting that the priesthood itself, so different in different nations, is the pro- duct, and not the cause, of the tastes and cravings of our nature — which it may yet, however, by reaction, greatly foster and augment. And why, of all people, should the ancient Hebrews be the only nation which succeeded in embracing all that is great and lovely, to the exclusion of all that is degrading and offensive ? Ingenious minds may speculate as they please, but sound reason will ever most fondly rest on the belief in a super- natural communication as alone able to explain the phenomenon. How totally different is the God of the Hebrews from the divinities revered by those who lived in the neighbouring coun- tries, and in the same states of society ! What a difference between Jehovah on the one hand, and Osiris, or Baal, or Jupiter, not to speak of Astarte, and Venus, and Bacchus, on the other I The characters differ, not only in degree, but they belong to a different class or order, and are without a single common virtue, except that suggested by an unpacified conscience, as it points to a God displeased with human rebellion and folly. The God of Israel, on the other hand, is altogether different from the God of the philosophers, whether of the demi-civilized nations of the East, of ancient Greece and Eome, or modern Europe. It might be easy, v.e are aware, to cull isolated passages from Plato, Cicero, and Seneca, in which there appear to be wonderfully enlarged views given of the Divine nature ; but when the whole theology of these authors is taken in its combination, we find the select quotations to be utterly deceptive. Take Greece and Eome in their ripest periods, and examine their boasted " disciplines." The Epicureans removed their gods far above the care and supervision of human affairs ; in short, as Cicero says, " admitted their existence in words, but denied it in fact."* The Academics may be regarded as represented by Cicero ; they delighted in discussing everything, but they believed little. The Peripatetics habitually overlooked Divine things, and their views of God are acknowledged to be miserably meagre and * Verbis ponunt, re tollunt Deos. — De Nat. Deor. AS REVEALED IN SCRIPTURE. 465 unsatisfiictory. There remains only among these famous sects that of the Stoics, usually represented as the most advanced of all the sects of Greece or Rome in the knowledge of Deity. Accord- ing to them, there was one great Divine Principle or Being, with a vast number of other gods. This Being or Principle was re- presented by them as of the nature of fire, and was identified with tlie element fire, regarded by them as the most elevated and powerful of all the elements. This Divine power of fire they represented as the governing principle of the universe, regulating all things by cycles. In these cycles, which followed one another in never-ending succession, there was a periodical conflagration, in which all things were consumed into the elemental fire or Divine principle, which at this period reigned alone. Then, in the proper course of development, this ethereal substance began to condense, and first the sun, the heavenly bodies, and the gods were formed, and then the earth and men, and these continued to act their allotted part till the cycle closed with another conflagra- tion, in which heaven and earth, with gods and men, were ab- sorbed in the Divine and all-devouring ether. It might be easy to find language in the writings of this sect sounding loftily to the ear, (the Stoics were addicted to lofty phrases in ethics and religion ;) but such was really the theology of the sect which produced the hymn of Cleanthes, which Cicero selects to repre- sent sound and enlightened theism, and which ranked among its votaries Seneca, Epictetus, and Antoninus, among the greatest divines and moralists of all heathen antiquity. May we not hold the Stoic Deity to be the highest product which the Greek and Roman intellect could furnish in Divinity ? How difierent, at this day, is the God of revelation, from the god of abstract and academic philosophy, whether it be that of speculative Germany, or sentimental France, matter-of-fact England, or Scotland with an intellect as hard as its rocks ! These gods are all of a class. However they may differ in minor particulars, some of them being painted in more meagre and others in more gorgeous colours, they all agree in this, that they are shorn of the attribute of holiness. They all differ from the living and true God, who, while clothed in attributes as lofty as any which the reason of philosophers can develop, or the imagination of poets can conceive, is raised far above their crude conceptions, by being constituted a holy Governor and Judge. 2a 4^6 CHARACTER OF GOD But here we must draw a distinctiorj, to save ourselves from a seeming contradiction. We assert, on the one hand, that from every mind there are reflected the living lineaments of the true God, and yet, on the other, that unaided reason has failed to exhibit them, except in a partial way. There is no real incon- sistency here. The difficulties in the way of discovering the true character of God lie in the prejudices and partialities of the heart. These have so narrowed and warped the mind, that it has failed to rise to a fall idea of the Divine character. Nevertheless, when that idea has been developed by those who have been carried up into a higher region by a supernatural power, the human mind may be capable of declaring that this notion is the true one. Nebuchadnezzar could not recall the " image of gold, and silver, and brass, and iron," which he had seen in the visions of the night, tliough he seems to have had some straggling recollections of it ; but what his own memory and the knowledge of his sages could not produce, was accomplished by the prophet, when he made the figure stand distinctly, and with all its fulness of meaning, before him, and then he instantly recognised it. Now, we may hold, that there are on the human heart faint impres- sions of the Divine character, which it is difficult to read in the light of nature, but which, being read in the purer light of revelation, disclose the very God whom this revelation fully describes and exhibits. Some of the truths which we are ex- pounding stand on the very horizon of human vision, and are seen very dimly by the unassisted eye ; but when the optic glass of revelation is directed towards them, the misty shapes start into defined forms, and we are satisfied at once of the correctness of the guesses made without the telescope, and of the accuracy of the telescope which has given such distinctness to the indefinite. We are entitled, then, in perfect consistency, to wield a double argument — in the first place, to show that the scriptural view of the Divine character is altogether in unison with. that furnished by the works of God ; and, in the second place, from the beauti- ful agreement of the two, to establish the Divine original of that Word in which the Divine character is so accurately represented. So far from being contradictory, we believe that the one involves 'the other, and that they meet in the necessary harmony of true jeason and real revelation. All this appears the more evident, when we consider, that in AP REVEALED IN SCRIPTURE. 467 the various false religions which have appeared in the world, there are always to be found some of those conceptions which enter into the true idea. All religions exhibit some part of the truth, being that which the human heart was led to fix on in the circumstances. False and defective religions have, under the guidance of human nature, singled out merely those properties of God which impressed that nature, while in revelation we have the complete figure, drawn evidently by parties to whom God had immediately revealed himself. In particular, wc find, in all religions which have recommended themselves to large bodies of mankind, and which have exercised a powerful influence upon the human mind — a deep impression of man having rendered himself obnoxious by transgression to a God who has prescribed a moral law, and is offended by dis- obedience. The prevalence of such a sentiment shows how deeply it is seated in the human heart, and how unfitted philo- sophical theism (which provides nothing piacular) is to meet the felt wants of mankind. While the Scriptures have not over- looked this property of the Divine nature, they have stripped it of all the offensive adjuncts with which it is usually associated, and combined it with all those lofty natural perfections which the philosopher delights to contemplate, and with a love as un- bounded and tender as the sentiments of man's heart have ever conceived ; thus revealing a combination, of each part of which, the understanding, the conscience, and the afi'ections are con- strained to approve, but which, notwithstanding, has never been §0 exhibited, in its completeness, by the highest efforts of unaided reason. 468 SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED RESTORATIOK- CHAPTER II. EESTOEATION OP MAN. SECT. I. — SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED RESTORATION. Our argument under this particular section is far from being very consecutive or conclusive. It is safer, to say the least of it, to establish a posteriori that God has afforded a means of restoration, than to waste ingenuity in proving a priori that such an interposition of heaven is probable. In conducting this latter argument, we find invariably, that not a little is assumed which could have been discovered or rendered certain only by the revelation itself. The few scattered observations which we have to offer are of an a posteriori and inductive character. We are to point to some facts which seem to indicate that God did intend to insti- tute a method of restoring the race. In order to attain even such a presumption or probability, we must take into account two apparently opposite classes of facts. First, we must carry along with us an acknowledgment of human guilt, and of God's enmity to sin. Without doing so, we cannot advance a step in the argument. Proceed on the idea that man is very much what God would have him to be, and it is impossible to find a ground on which to build an ex- pectation of the interposition of heaven. It is at this point that the argument of those who would demonstrate a priori the necessity for a Divine revelation is felt to be weakest. If mankind are in an unfallen state, and their Maker upon .the whole satisfied with them, no other improvement can be reason- ably looked for, beyond that which may be expected to proceed from human intelligence and philanthropy. We cannot get a foundation for the argument till certain facts have been estab- lished. In the a posteriori reasoning now pursued, we proceed SIHxVoMS OF INTENDED RESTORATION. 469 on the demonstration which we liave given of the sinfulness of the race, and the just indignation of the Governor of the world. This fact alone, however, would not enahle us to construct an argument. For it might be urged, with some plausibility, that God meant to allow the race to continue in their present degraded condition, Avithout any special interference or restora- tion beyond that which might proceed from human agency. And so we must, secondly, take along with us the deep in- terest which God takes in the happiness and virtue of the race. Such fiicts as these press themselves upon our notice. (1.) There is the continued existence of mankind upon the earth, showing that, if God is displeased with human sinfulness, he is at the same time keeping up a system of government, having a special respect to them, and allowing them a period of respite and pro- bation. (2.) There are the numberless bounties which mankind enjoy, shewing that, in spite of human sinfulness, God can be their benefactor. (3.) There are the pains which God is taking in his government to recommend and uphold virtuous conduct. It is from the sharp collision of these classes of facts that we derive any spark fitted to shed light upon the destinies of our world. The former, if taken alone, could not lead us to suppose that God meant to do anything for a race under his displeasure. The latter, considered apart, might seem rather to indicate that God was contented with mankind, and meant to give them nothing beyond what they naturally possess. But let us take along with us the general fact that God is ofifended with human guilt, and connect it with the other fact that he is showering benefits upon the race ; and there results a possibility, a pre- sumption, if not a probability, that God intends to interpose for the vindication of a government which has been dishonoured, and the restoration of a race in which he is deeply interested. We cannot conceive of a thinking mind, seriously contemplating these two classes of facts, without there following a wish that there might be something to reconcile them — may we not add^ without a hope or expectation, that the God who hates sin, and yet loves mankind, would manifest himself in a way fitted to exhibit his character under both these lights in combination ? " I perceive that God is offended with mankind," would be tho way in which such a mind would reason, " and I see that he is disposed to be merciful, and he would only be following out his 470 SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED EESTORATION. own method of procedure were he to devise and execute some plan by which man might know the mystery of his relation to God, and rise from his present degradation." Upon these two general facts, some general considerations may be founded, carrying a certain weight with them. (1.) Mankind seem to be a race fallen, but uot a race aban- doned— a race which cannot rise of itself, but a race which seems to be kept with care, because it is yet to rise. When we see persons taking pains to deck a tomb, we are led to suppose that they expect the dead to rise again. The paintings, the ornaments, and devices on the sepulchres of ancient Egypt and Etruria, all seem to indicate that those bodies on which such delicate attention was lavished were expected to spring up in renewed life and vigour. Some of our readers may have been struck with the graphic description which a popular writer gives of the present condition of the Holy Land, appearing as if it were just waiting for the promised renovation.* " They shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations." And seeming as if they were waiting the fulfil- ment of this prediction, there is a soil — gathering in depth and fertility ; and in the east of the Jordan, there are numberless cities without inhabitants, (Buckingham saw from one rocky eminence upwards of twenty-five,) but with the houses yet standing — in some instances, so many as 800 deserted dwellings, all ready for the inhabitants who are yet to dwell in them. And does it not look as if, after the same way, there were among the ruins of our nature some materials which God is keeping with care, that he may rear a new fabric ? While, like the old men in Judah, we weep over the recollection of a glorious temple fallen, may we not with the younger men shout at the prospect of a more glorious temple yet to be built ? (2.) It does look as if our earth were waiting for something greater and better than has ever yet been realized. *' For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope ; because the creature itself shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the * Keith's Land of Israel, chap. viii. SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED RESTORATION. 471 children of God ; for we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." Inanimate nature and the lower animals do not serve the noble ends which they would have served had man walked upon the earth a pure and sinless being. The air of heaven, as we breathe it, has to pass through bodies which have been polluted by sin. The food which the earth furnishes has been commonly employed to pamper the bodies of those who give no thanks to God, and to nourish strength which has been expended in breaking his law and dishonouring his name. Tliat sun which was to have lighted mankind on errands of love, has now to shed its beams upon the evil and the unjust, as they prosecute their schemes of selfish aggrandizement. And that lovely moon, and these chaste stars, have they not to look on still darker deeds of crimi- nality which dare not face the light of day ? May we not hope, that these great and beauteous works of God were preserved for a grander purpose than tliey have ever yet served ? that this air is yet to be breathed by, and the light of these heavenly bodies to shine upon, beings as pure as they themselves are ? (3.) How universal, too, the restlessness, how deep the groan- ings and travailings of the human race ! This world is not now, and never has been, what its inhabitants would wish it to be. Hence the constant endeavours to improve it, and which are successful at least in changing it. Whether taken individually or collectively, humankind do not feel themselves to be at ease. There is a deep uneasiness in every human bosom, arising from desires which have not been gratified, and craving appetites for good which has not yet been attained. This prominent feature of the individual is also a characteristic of the race. What never- ending schemes for the improvement of mankind, all proceeding on the principle that mankind need to be improved ! Science is advancing its discoveries, and politics its reforms, and all to remove the evils under which the world is labouring. Some of these projects, it is true, are utterly impracticable — many of them leave the world just as they found it; but still, the very eagerness with which they are proposed and pursued shows that man is not satisfied with his present condition and the world in which he dwells. His exertions are too often like the struggles of the fever-patient, issuing in no permanent improvement of his condition, but the writhings and groanings prove that he is^ i72 SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED EESTOKATION. in pain, and would wish to be in a different position. Can we suppose that such universal wishes and expectations would be excited without a deep reason ? Do not the universality and the fundamental depth of the desires seem to indicate that they may be gratified ? (4.) Let it be frankly admitted that there is progress in the world. There is progress in agriculture ; there is progress in all the arts ; there is progress in all the sciences ; the earth is every succeeding year made to yield a greater quantity of pro- duce, and man's dominion over nature is rapidly increasing. The fruit of the discoveries of one age contains the germ of the discoveries of the generation that follows ; and the new plant springs up alongside of the old one, to scatter seed like its pro- genitor all around. No valuable invention of human genius is ever lost, and most of them become the means of multiplying themselves by a greater than compound interest, and thus render each succeeding generation richer than the one which went before. The wealth of all preceding generations is thus to be poured into the lap of the generations that are to live in the latter days of our world's history. How sad to think, that amidst all these improvements in the arts and secular knowledge, there should be no corresponding improvement in the morale of the human character ! A thousand means have been tried, and the tendency of many of them has been excellent ; yet human nature has continued as vain, as proud, and selfish, as much given to lust and passion as it ever was. When some one was enlarging to Coleridge on the tendency of some scheme which was expected to regenerate the world, the poet flung up, into the air the down of a thistle which grew by the roadside, and went on to say, " The tendency of that thistle is towards China ; but I know, with assured certainty, that it will never get there — nay, it is more than probable, that after sundry eddyings, and gyrations up and down, and backwards and for- wards, it will be found somewhere near the place in which it grew." Such has ever been the issue of those boasted schemes of human wisdom which have professed to change the heart of man. Human nature is in this respect like the salt sea ; the sun is daily evaporating its waters, but does not drink up one particle of that saline ingredient ; if men will drink of its bitter waters, they sicken, and madden, and die; all the rivers that run SYMPTOMS OF INTENDED KESTOKATION. 473 into it have not changed its saltness. It is thus with that malignant nature which we inherit and propagate, all human means have failed to purify it, and it stimulates to madness, disease, and death. But is there to he a physical and an intellectual, and no moral progress ? Is the lesser to advance, and the greater to remain stationary ? Does God take a greater interest in the improve- ment of human knowledge and refinement than in that of the heart and conduct ? Is he to dissever more and more the physical and the intellectual from the moral and religious ; to move on the one, while the other continues where it was, to impress us the more with the fearful gap hetween ? Or, rather, does not the whole government of God show that he values the former chiefly as subsidiary to the latter ? In the past progress of the one, we have thus a presumption in favour of the coming progress of the other. The one advances by human agency under the ordinary proceeding of Providence ; it requires, no doubt, means, but not miracles. The other, it seems, cannot attain its end through mere human activity ; and since it can be accomplished in no other way, we call in the intervention of God, and feel as if such were necessary, in order to the harmony and completeness of plans at present in operation. Some of these considerations may seem to be brought from a great distance, but by their collection and clustering, they appear to us to form a pleasant belt of light — a kind of milky way, hung over our world, in this its dark night, to give light to the traveller who has set out in search of truth. SECT. 11. — WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO THE RESTORATION OF MAN — (1.) IN RELATION TO THE CHARACTER OF GOD. We feel now as if we had firmer ground to stand on. It is difficult to prove a priori that God should interpose for the rec- tification of his own government, and the improvement of human character. There is less diflSculty in fixing on the points which require vindication. The gospel professes to be remedial, and remedial of an evil affecting the laws of God, and the character and condition of man. It is in its reference to the Divine government that we are to discover, if indeed we can discover anywhere, its appropriateness. 474 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO Now, we find the plan of redemption fitted in every particular to meet the evils existing in the world, as these present themselves to an earnest and thoughtful mind. This adaptation furnishes one of the highest of all the internal proofs in favour of the re- ligion of the Bible. There may be an argument derived from the beauty of the style, so much superior to what might be expected from Hebrew shepherds and Galilean fishermen ; and an argu- ment from the heavenly elevation and purity of the morality; but there may be an argument of a still higher order obtained, from the fitness of the whole scheme in its reference to the government of God and the state of mankind. That these excellencies should ail have met in a cunningly-devised fiible of certain Hebrew writers, is a supposition vastly more improbable than that the religion should have descended from heaven. Those who ridicule the alleged credulity of the Christian, are themselves obliged to yield their assent to the most monstrous incredibilities. ■ • Na-ture cannot tell beforehand how a Divine intervention is to accomplish its object, for that intervention must be beyond nature, beyond all its findings and experience. It can an- nounce, however, that if it meet the clamant evils, it must be of a twofold character, corresponding to the twofold derange- ment. - , , First, there must be a provision for vindicating the Divine government, dishonoured by the rebellion of the CREATURE, AND this IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CHARACTER OF God. ; Then, Secondly, there must be a provision for rec- tifying THE HEART AND NATURE OF MAN. The first of thcse is found in the righteousness and sufferings of the Mediator, as giving glory to God, and efibcting a reconciliation; and. the second is provided in the inward operation of the Sanctifier. In the one, God's government is justified ; and by the other, man's character is sanctified. First, the intervention must provide for the vindication OF the Divine government. " Of law, there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is in the bosom of God ; her voice, the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power ; both angels and creatures of what condition soever, though each in difi'erent sort and manner, admiring hei THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 475 as the mother of their peace and joy."* If so much can be justly said of law, what is to be said of those who have set this law at defiance, and that under its most sacred form — the form of moral law ? No proposed scheme for dispensing pardon deserves to be looked at which does not provide a means of up- hoWing that law. This moral law points to God as giving and defending it, and when we look to liim we are constrained by our moral nature to regard him as a being who hates evil and who punishes it. The conscience of man not only approves of the good but dis- approves of the evil, and declares that the evil is deserving of punishment. Besides, an abhorrence of evil is an essential element in holy exercises of will. If we follow out the intima- tions given by these facts of our moral constitution, we must believe that God hates sin, and that as upholder of the law and Governor of the world, he ought to punish transgression. We have the very same evidence of all this, as we have of the fact that God approves of the good, and will reward it. We are entitled to say, not metaphorically or anthropomorphologically, or in the way of accommodation to man, but literally and truly, that God hates sin — not as a personal offence against himself — but that he hates sin as sin, and has a feeling of holy indigna- tion against the perpetrator.f He who proposes to provide a * Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity. f All systems of atonement (that of Mr. Maurice, for example) are defective, vrhicli do not embrace (along with other elements) a means of reconciling a God who hates and who punishes sin. But let it be carefully observed, that it is not a retaliation or revenge for a personal offence that God is supposed to require. This is the only idea of an atonement which some ( e.g. Mr. Greg in his Creed of Christendom, p. 262) are able to entertain, and hence they wonder how God should not at once forgive sin as man may forgive a personal slight. But we have seen in examining the moral constitution of man, that the disapproval of sin, (see p. 341,) and the hatred of sin, (p. 314,) differ in their whole nature from the mere resentment on account of offence given, (p. 425.) The two first belong to the moral constituents of man, the conscience, and the will, and the last to his emo- tional nature. It has been customary with these same parties, Christian and Antichristian, to represent the pimishment of sin as merely something following sin in the course of things, " not the execution of a sentence, but the occurrence of on effect." True, it is an effect following in the course of things, but the question arises, who hath appointed this order of things ? The cotirsc of events might surely have been otherwise. The course of tilings brings punishment because God hath 80 appointed it, and God hath so appointed it because he hates sin. In order to avoid the effect, there must be a means of rendering satisfaction to the justice of God. 476 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO Bclieme by which the sinner can be received into favour, must not be allowed to overlook these essential elements of the Divine nature and perfections. In contemplating its moral state and the relation in which it stands to God, the mind of man has ever felt in its unsophisti- cated musings that there must be some satisfaction given to God and his law. Hence the services which the heathen have paid to God, and the sacrifices which they have offered with the view of appeasing him. These " unconscious prophecies " (as Trench has called them) of the one great offering and sacrifice, shew that man feels his need of reconciliation with a God who has had just cause of displeasure. Yet they point to the need of a true saviour less by what they furnish than by its palpable insuffi- ciency to effect the end contemplated. What man brings shews that he has felt the void, but shews, too, that he cannot fill it. The remedies applied prove that disease exists, but prove at the same time that they are unfit to heal it. There is something in man's nature which intimates that God, in calling — as he does call — his creatures into judgment, demands of them that they bring an obedience. It is because of this deeply seated feeling that there are such exertions made by the thoughtful to procure a righteousness ; hence the ceremonial services to which mankind naturally resort, "going about to establish a righteousness of their own." Need we shew how vain the attempt ? For why does God demand obedience ? It is because of his very nature and character as a just God, and from the relation in which he stands to his creatures as their Governor. But the same attribute of God which leads him to demand obedience, makes him also demand that it be an obedience in all things, at all times, and in all places. The conscience is in this respect in unison with the Word of God, and announces that the righteousness which man brings should be spotless and per- fect. But then, in transacting with God, no given man can present any such righteousness. As feeling this, man has ever anxiously looked round for a substitute, and would fondly believe that he has found such in a priesthood, or in some creature representative. But the pro- posed substitution, while it shows the feeling of need, only brings out the more strikingly the impotence of the remedy. For a fellow-man, from the circumstance that he is a sinner, cannot THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 4V7 give for himself such an obedience as God exacts, and still less can he give it for others. Nay, no other creature of God can provide such a righteousness for him, for every creature is re- quired as for himself to fulfil the universal law of God, and after he has loved the Lord with all his heart and discharged every commanded duty, he has not acquired any merit of supererogation to be carried over to the account of another. Not only so, but it might seem as if God himself were pre- cluded from providing anything to suit the transgressor, and that this inability arose from his very greatness. The right- eausness required of man is obedience, and the only righteous- ness which can be of any use to him must partake of the nature of obedience. But God, as the author of the law, the Governor of the world, cannot give obedience. Herein lay the diflSculty in the way of the restoration of a follen being. Incapable of redeeming himself, no creature can possibly have any superfluous righteousness to impute to him, and it might seem as if God himself could not provide what man requires. Three important facts are now before us. Man has felt the want ; he has tried to supply it ; and he has failed. Feeling that the heavens are at such a distance, he woiild construct a chain by W'hich to mount to them, and he finds that he has nothing whereon to hang it. But where man has failed, God has suc- ceeded, and by means which man could not have anticipated, but which, when announced, commend themselves to his moral nature as fitted to meet the evils which he had ever been endeavouring to remedy, but without success. It is when we consider it in iis fitness to solve all these pro- blems, and harmonize all these oppositions, that we see the manifold wisdom of the mystery once hid but now unfolded, " the mystery of godliness, God manifest in the flesh." The majesty of the law is upheld, the justice of God is satisfied, and an obedience is provided by one from whom obedience is not required as for himself, but who has power in himself, and puts himself in circumstances to render it. In order to accom- plish these ends, and to display at one and the same time the two essential moral attributes of God, his justice, and his benevolence, one of the persons of the ever-existing and ever- blessed Godhead associates himself with humanity, and becomes 478 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO " obedient unto death," fulfilling the law in its precepts, and submitting to its penalt}'. " I HAVE GLORIFIED THEE UPON THE EARTH." We recton this language as very remarkable. We know not if God has been dishonoured anywhere throughout a boundless universe so much as he has been upon the earth. Revelation, indeed, speaks of the angels who fell; but, with their exception, we know not if any other creatures of Grod, in any other world, have so dishonoured him by breaking his commandments ; and in regard to them, the righteousness of God was instantly vindicated by their being consigned to punishment. But for these four thousand years which had run their course, before the appointed Deliverer came down to this earth, one generation of men after another had gone on dishonouring his name and breaking his laws with apparent impunity. Never had God been so dishonoured with- out an instant and public vindication of his justice. But on the very earth where he had been so dishonoured, is he now glorified. This is done in the work of the appointed Substitute, in which the law is magnified and made honourable, and divine justice satisfied, while room is opened up for the fullest manifestation of the divine mercy. This is done in the name and nature of those who had so dishonoured God, so that, as by man God has been dishonoured, by man God is now glorified. All this is done at the very place at which the wickedness of man had been so great ; so that, as on the earth God had been dishonoured, so now, on the earth, God is glorified. That we may be the more forcibly impressed with this exhibi- tion of the divine glory, let us convey ourselves, in imagination, into the heart of those dark scenes into which the Eedeemer is represented as having entered immediately after the utterance of the words on which we have been commenting. At the darkest hour of that night, a band of officers, headed by an apostate apostle, come with glaring torches to apprehend him. His other followers, after showing a momentary courage, speedily abandon him. He is dragged before the tribunal of the high priest, where, on the testimony of lying witnesses, bribed for the pur- pose, that high priest pronounces a sentence of condemnation on him, from whom, though he little thinks of it, his office derives all its authority. In the courts of the judge, we hear, mingled with the scoffs and jeers of the multitude, the cursing, swearing, THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 479 and open falsehood of an apostle. He is now carried to the nulgment of the civil governor, by whom the decision is referred to the people, who loudly demand that he should be exposed to the most painful and humbling of all deaths, and the governor, convinced all the time of his innocence, orders him to be cruci- fied. All parties take their part in the scene. The soldiers scourge him ; and as he moves along the streets of that city which had heard his discourses of unparalleled wisdom, and witnessed his miracles of astonishing power, the multitude cover him with infamy. It is amidst derision that he is nailed to the accursed tree. His dying agonies move no compassion. One of the thieves crucified along with him reviles him, as a greater malefactor than himself. His prayers, breathing of divine compassion and melting love, are answered back by reproaches and scorn. Where else can such concentrated wickedness be met with ? Blindness and darkness of mind, unbelief in spite of overwhelming evidence, ingratitude for unnumbered favours, 'injustice, perjury, profanity, malignity, unappeasable revenge, — and all this against the meekest of all men — all this against God who is blessed for ever. It might seem as if God had never been so insulted and defied. We wonder not that the earth should have trembled and shuddered, as if desirous to cast forth such wickedness from its bosom. We wonder not that the sun should have hid his face as unable to look on such a scene, more horrific than the most wicked which he had seen in all his unwearied rounds. But it was at the very place at which man was most dishonouring God that his representative was glori- fying him. Where man was exhibiting the most appalling wick- edness, there his surety was giving the most signal display of goodness. Where man, breaking loose from all restraint, was abandoning himself to open rebellion, there his substitute was becoming obedient even unto death. Where the wildest passions that ever stirred the human heart were raging uncontrolled, there one in our own name and nature was giving the most moving display of a tenderness which could not be rufiled, and of a lovo which could not be quenched. Where sin abounded, there right- eousness did much more abound. The representative is lifted high upon the cross, that he might become a spectacle, and in the view of all men, in the view of wondering angels, and in the view of God, glorify God wherein be had been most dishonoured. 480 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO We may now define and gather into a head the general observations which have passed before us. In contemplating this world, the thinking mind discovers a twofold derangement, and each presenting itself under a twofold aspect. Under one aspect we observe a government obviously orderly, yet filled with disorder. Under another aspect we per- ceive man, a sinfid being, covered with kindness, and yet called to give an account of his deeds to a God who hates sin. These four facts will not be disputed by any man who has thoughtfully contemplated the world, or seriously examined his own nature. We everywhere meet with order, and also with sin, which is certainly disorder. The same moral nature announces to us that God hates sin, and that man has sinned. It must be difficult for a reflecting mind to deny any one of these four facts — almost as difficult as to deny the very existence of God, or the distinction between good and evil. How wonderful, that in a system originating in the sequestered land of Judah, we should have a j^lan in which they are all embraced and reconciled, the double derangement which they exhibit provided for, and mercy extended to the reconciled transgressor, while the order of the Divine government is upheld, and the justice of God completely satisfied ! That land, shut out from intercourse with the rest of the world, must, we are constrained to believe, have had a special communication with heaven. SECT. III. — WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO THE RESTORATION OF MAN (2.) IN ITS RELATION TO THE CHARACTER OF MAN ; THE NEED OF AN INTERPOSITION IN THE HUMAN HEART AND CHARACTER. The need of such an interposition, in order to the rectification of a clamant evil, becomes visible whether we look at society at large, or inspect our own bosoms. The infidel writers of last century were wont, in furtherance of the objects which they had in view, to represent savage life as one of spotless innocence and perfect peace. The visits of travellers, sufficiently shrewd to look beneath the surface, have served to dispel the illusion, and to demonstrate that there is more cunning and deceit, and no less selfishness and malignity, among rude than among civilized nations. THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 481 Again, there are persons who announce with oracular authority that advancing civilisation will change the very character of society. They forget that increasing knowledge, while it holds out new encouragements to excellence, also furnishes additional instruments and facilities to all that is evil. The art of printing, for instance, through which useful knowledge is disseminated, is also the medium through which scandal, vice, and irreligion propagate themselves ; and this they are doing, to an incredible extent, in this our country in the present day, through the millions of noxious publications which annually issue from the press. The rapid modes of travelling and communication which modern times enjoy, and which enable the good to exercise a wider influence, admit, at the same time, of the more effectual and speedy transmission of all that is corrupt, baleful, and infectious. We require only to open our eyes, and not to shut our ears, to discover vice presenting itself with as unabashed and disgusting an aspect, and uttering as blasphemous words in the present, as in any other age of the world. In some respects, indeed, civilisation has reformed the outward man, whitened the outside of the sepulchre, but it has left it within as full ot corruption as before. The inhabitant of some busy town, wearied with its prevailing artifice and selfishness, its competitions in trade and rivalships in rank and family, repairs for a season to some sequestered village or secluded glen ; and the peace and serenity that reign around him, the absence of all turmoil and open crime, leave upon him the impression that the character of the inhabitants is as lovely as are the works of God among which they dwell. Alas ! he needs only a little deeper acquaintance with those who seem so innocent and simple, to find the same passions at work, and the same feuds and jealousies, as in the bustling city population. The countryman repays the visit of the citizen at a different season, and is surprised at and delighted with the comfort, the elegance, the courtesy, and apparent affection which everywhere fall under his view. It requires some little inquiry to discover that pride, vanity, and ungodliness, are beating and reigning in bosoms so decked and adorned as to conceal every rankling passion within. Should he go forth from the narrow precincts of the refilled into the haunts of the lowest population of our cities, he will feel his sensibility affected by deeper sinks 2h 482 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO of iniquity than are to be found in any previous age of the world's history. All classes of men bear, if we but narrowly examine them, the traces of their common lineage. You may discover them to belong to the race by their sins and passions, as well as by their bodily frames and common features. This common nature breaks forth and exhibits itself in each individual. The fond mother, as she rocks her child to rest on her bosom, or plays herself with its playfulness, is tempted to think that one so engaging can never be torn by wild passions. Yet it is most certain, that this child Avill no sooner begin to act as a moral and responsible being, than it will show an evil heart. That child, grown up to youth, and engrossed with the objective world as it dances before the eye, and seldom looking down into the dark subjective, is just as unaware as the mother was of the wickedness slumbering within, till perhaps it has carried him to a length at which he sees how far he is from innocence, but feels that retreat is cut off, and that there is nothing for him but to advance. The remedy for such evils, in order to be effectual, must be a universal remedy, admitting of application to all ranks of men and stages of society, to poor and rich, savage and civilized. If one of these classes requires it, it can be shown, by a like reason, that all the others require it. Society, as it advances, opens up more exquisite pleasures, but it brings, too, more exquisite pains ; it multiplies enjoyment, but it multiplies sorrow also ; it kindles hopes, but it often quenches them amidst fearful an- guish. Our readers may be reminded of that fine passage in which Burke speaks of the pity which we should feel for the "distresses of the miserable great," and the "fat stupidity and gross ignorance concerning what imports men most to know, •which prevails at courts, and at the head of armies, and in senates, as much as at the loom and in the field." " They, too, are among the unhappy. They feel personal pain and domestic sorrow. In these they have no privilege, but are subject to pay their full contingent to the contributions levied on mortality. They want this sovereign balm under their gnawing cares and •anxieties, which, being less conversant about the limited wants of animal life, range without limit, and are diversified by infinite combinations in the wild and unbounded regions of imagination. THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 483 Some charitable dole is wanting to these our often very unhappy H'ethron to fill the gloomy void that reigns in minds which lavc nothing on earth to hope or fear ; something to relieve, in the killing languor and over-laboured lassitude of those who have nothing to do ; something to excite an appetite to exist- ence, in the pallid satiety which attends on all pleasures which may be bought ; where nature is not left to her own process, where even desire is anticipated, and therefore fruition defeated by meditated schemes and contrivances of delight, and no interval, no obstacle is interposed between the wish and the accomplishment." Every one who has read the lives of the poets, and other persons possessed of that fearful gift, the gift of genius, knows that minds finely and tensely strung are fully as liable to be deranged as others, and need, no less than those who are exposed to the temptations of wealth and rank, the application of this soothing medicament. But in order to discover the real depths of human depravity, and the extent of human helplessness, we must look beyond the mere outward action into the heart. It has been most merci- fully enacted, that no man can look directly into the heart of another ; but it has been most wisely provided, that every man can look into his own heart, and he is so far entitled to take it as a type or representative of our common nature. But no man can carefully inspect his own nature without being constrained to admit that he needs strength higher than his own to enable him to keep the law of God. But if there be some one under the impression that he can of him.self fulfil the will of God, apart from supernatural aid, we invite him to make the experiment. Let him determine to perform all his duty, and walk for ever in the light of purity, and all by his own strength of resolution. We are ready to admit, that there is much which he may do of himself. He may perform the ordinary business of life, discharge the cour- tesies of kind and obliging neighbourhood, and attend to the external forms and observances of religion. He may succeed in doing many a deed of kindness to a neighbour, and in refraining from acts of open immorality ; he may acquire the habit of uttering a cold and formal prayer morning and evening. Some have attained to a character so becoming, that the most jealous and prying eye cannot detect in it a single outside blemish. 484 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO They have become as righteous as the straitest of the sect ot the Pharisees, with no charity, but still with the most perfect correctness ; with no meekness or humility, but still with the sternest rigidity. But let it be remembered, that there is some- thing more than this requisite in order to our fulfilling the law of God. For the law is on this wise ; — that a man love the Lord with all his heart, and his neighbour as himself ; and that he live habitually under the influence of these affections, and of others flowing from them, and obligatory upon him in the con- dition in which he finds himself. Let the person who is inclined to make the supposed experiment, ponder this law in its purity and extent, and the probability is, that, previous to making the atterhpt, he will be oppressed with its utter hopelessness. But there is a self-confident man not so easily appalled by difficulties. By all means then let him make the attempt, and let us watch him as he does so. Let him resolve to create this supreme love which he owes to his Creator, and the other kin- dred spiritual dispositions. For this purpose, he seats himself in the quiet and retirement of his closet, and resolves that he will induce or compel himself to love the Lord with all his heart. Knowing that it is conception that determines feeling, he calls up an image of God. First, he pictures a being of awful majesty and infinite power, and corresponding feelings of awe and wonder rise up in his mind. Again, he represents God as delighting in the happiness of his creatures, and for an instant there is a pleasing emotion playing upon the surface of his mind, and he begins to imagine that he has been successful But suppose that the idea of the holiness of the Divine nature, shining in all its dazzling splendour, now rises up before his view, and that he feels himself to be a sinner in immediate con- tact with this searching light — we venture to affirm, that the contemplation will become less pleasant, and that, wTithing under an unpleasant inspection, he will be tempted to turn away to other and less holy, and therefore more pleasing topics ; or his love will be turned into slavish fear, and he will scarcely dare to gaze any longer upon this focus of light in the heavens — and the brighter the beams, he will be all the readier to turn away his eye to the lower, and what is to him the lovelier and greener scenery of this earth ; or if, in obstinate determination, h(? continue to gaze, we venture to affirm, that the very light THE RESTOKATION OF MAN 485 shall appear as darkness — as when the eye gazes long on the sun, he hecomes shorn of his greatness and grandeur, and is seen a blank and uninteresting surface. Such must be the fruitless issue of all attempts to create spiritual affection to a spiritual God. The man may say, Let there be light ; but no light will arise. The result will be the same, should the experimenter attempt the performance of any of the specific duties which he owes to God. But if not con- vinced, let him make the effort in the spirit of Luther, and the failure will tend to give him a deeper sense of the ungodliness of his heart. Let him resolve to repent of his transgressions : for this purpose he would call up his sins ; alas ! it is only to find the treacherous memory dwelling rather on the good qualities that are supposed to make amends for them, or fixing on the pleasures which the sins have conveyed, and so tempting him anew to the commission of them. Or let him resolve to pray, as is his duty ; he will find, that even while the words proceed from his lips, the heart is blank and void; that there is the attitude without the feeling of reverence — the prostration of the body without the humiliation of the soul. He • may bring the sacrifice to the altar, as the priests of Baal did on Mount Car- mel ; but, apart from the opening of heaven to let down an influence, he will be as little capable of kindling it, as the priests referred to by cutting their bodies could bring down fire, which at once descended to the prayer of Elijah. Such considerations as these should show, that as spiritual dis- positions do not spring up spontaneously in the breast, so neither can they be forced. And if they refuse to give their momentary attendance when called, what reason have we to think that they will abide ? And yet it is required, not only that we entertain them at certain times, as when a present object calls them forth, as when in a temple of God, and listening to a discourse on an exciting topic, or to music which causes our feelings to rise or fall with its notes, but that they be cherished habitually, and become the guiding principles of the life. Let it be supposed, for the sake of argument, that our experimenter has raised a momentary love to God by the force of native resolution ; or, what may very possibly be, that he is temporarily under the influence of high religious emotion. The question now is, Will these feelings continue ? If it be diflicult to kindle the spark, 486 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO it will be found still more difficult to preserve it fro.ia being extinguished by every burst of earthly passion. It is " The most difiBcult of tasks, to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain." — Wokdswoeth. There are times, no doubt, when there is a fervour naturally produced by the atmosphere in which the man happens to be placed ; but there is a risk that his emotional temperature will sink as he goes into a different and colder atmosphere, as instantly as his bodily temperature when he has gone out of a warm apartment into the chill of a frosty night. Every careful ob- server of humankind knows that there are certain minds which, like mirrors, reflect the object passing before them, but only so long as it passes before them. When full under some heavenly truths, the emotions produced are lovely as those images of rocks and trees and clouds which we have seen reflected on the bosom of a tranquil lake — beautiful while they last, but removed by the first ruffling of the passing breeze. Not only so, but in the natural recoil and collapse, there is a possibility that the high excitement may speedily terminate in apathy or in enmity. The flame, beautiful while it lasts, dies down, and nothing remains but ashes. There are tides in human feeling, just as there are tides in the ocean ; and because the tide is flowing now, there is no assurance of its continuing to flow — we may rather fear that it will soon ebb and recede. The man feels a momentary inter- est in religion, and he becomes vain in the thought that it is to continue ; and this very vanity becomes the passage that leads him away to a far difi'erent temper. To-day, he weeps over his sins ; and before he is aware of it, he is rejoicing in iniquity on the morrow. His efforts, even when they seem to be successful, are merely like the rippling on the surface of a stream made by winds opposed to the current ; they have indeed a slight effect, and may make the careless spectator imagine that the waters are flowing in an opposite direction, but meanwhile the current beneath is flowing on in its proper course as determinedly as ever. His elevations are like those of a ship buoyed up on the top of a wave, seemingly above the earth, but never so high as heaven, and from this height he is apt to fall into the contigu- ous hollow. All this shows, that while man, by his unaided strength, may rise a little above his habitual level of earthliness, THE RESTORATION OF MAN, 487 he cannot soar to the heavenly regions of purity and peace ; and that if he seek, Icarus-like, to mount by earthly means, his flight may only make his foil the more lamentable. Nor is our argument exhausted. The diflSculties are seen to be immeasurably increased, when we consider, that man has not only holy dispositions to cultivate, but sinful dispositions to con- quer. The carnal thoughts and feelings found in such rank luxuriance, all spring up with a native and spontaneous power. We think that we have succeeded, at some particular time, in destroying them ; but, like noxious weeds, whose roots are inter- woven with the soil, and whose seeds are scattered throughout it, when cut down in one quarter they speedily spring up in another. But should there be some one, confident that he can subdue them all in his own strength, we encourage him to make the effort. Let him say to his unruly thoughts and passions, " Thus far, but no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed," and mark if the waters will roll back at his command. There will be times, indeed, when, removed from excitement and temptation, he may think that he is succeeding ; at their natural ebb, the waters may seem to be obeying him, and fleeing as if in terror. But when they begin to flow in full tide, he will not be able to master them ; and they will roll over him, with as little regard to his commands as the waves once rolled over the feet of the Danish monarch, who showed his courtiers, when they were seeking to give him too exalted an idea of his power, how little control he had over nature without him, by an experiment not unlike that whicu we have instituted to show how little control we have over nature within us. This evil, then, the evil of man's inability to raise himself, we find pressing upon our notice in all directions ; and to meet it, we find the revealed redemption proffering the supernatural aid of the Spirit of God. SECT, IV, — SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED — MEANS OF APPLYING THE AID. We are now to mark the appropriateness of the method in which the aid is dispensed. It is in admirable adaptation to the constitution of man. The four indestructible principles in tho 488 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO human agent are — the Reason, the Conscience, the Affections, and the Will ; and let iis observe the manner in which each of these is addressed. I. The Reason is addressed. We are required to believe, but to believe on evidence. This evidence is partly external, arising from miracles properly attested, and the fulfilment of prophecy ; partly, indeed chiefly, internal, being such adapta- tions as those we are now considering, many of them being as wonderful and conclusive as those brought to prove the existence of God. In this, the Christian religion stands alone. There are persons who talk of the rivalry of religions as an excuse for adopting none, but in this respect there is no rivalry. Other religions, Pagan or Mohammedan, claim the beliefs of their votaries, on the ground of mere authority or descent from an- cestors, of terror or blind feeling. Of all religions, Christianity is the only one which professes to be founded on evidence, and which is at pains to furnish it. II. The Conscience. (1.) Tlie conscience is pacified. Con- science, we have seen, is a reflex faculty, judging of action pre- sented to it. Sin, presented to it as sin, it must ever condemn. The sinner finds little diflSculty in deadening it, at least at times, by presenting sin under a false aspect. But to pacify the con- science, to give it real and deep satisfaction, this surpasses the utmost exertions of human ingenuity. And yet, without such a satisfaction, the conscience will ever crave ; or if occasionally lulled into slumber, it is only that it may awake in renewed vigour. Repentance, we have seen, cannot appease it, nor can self-inflicted tortures assuage it — they merely indicate that the mind is writhing with pain. In order to the pacifying of the conscience, there must be clear evidence that God is pacified. The attempts made in superstition, under all its forms, show that the human mind feels that God is offended, and that it is needful to provide a satisfaction. The conscience, in telling us that we have sinned, announces that God is holy, and cannot overlook sin. Nor will it be satisfied with a declaration that God will overlook sin ; this would only puzzle and perplex the mind, as landing it in a seeming contradiction. The announcement that God overlooks sin would ever be met by a counter announce- ment, that God cannot overlook it. Human skill has not been able to reconcile this contradiction ; and so it has never suo* THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 489 ceeded in doing more than deceiving the conscience, which is the readier to exact revenge, when the fraud is detected. But if it is needful, as every one admits,^ in order to the pacifying of the conscience, that God he pacified, it seems equally necessary, in order to its satisfiction, that a ground be presented on which God can be satisfied in consistency with the holiness of his character. In every system of proffered mercy in which no such provision is made, a double voice will be heard, as it were, ringing in the ear — the one saying, God is pleased ; the other saying, God is angry ; and the mind, instead of being at rest, will be distracted between them. But let us mark how in the gospel system God is represented as pacified, and pacified in strict accordance with the maintenance of justice. Under it, our moral nature is oppressed with no sense of incongruity, when it is declared that sin is forgiven. We believe not only that the heart is melted by the expression of the Divine tenderness, but that our moral nature is made to approve of God, and entertains a more exalted conception than ever of his unbending rectitude. On the scheme being presented, and on the understanding being convinced that it has the sanction of heaven, the conscience, the feelings are satisfied — the whole soul is satisfied. It is in this light that God is everywhere represerfted in the Scriptures. From the day on which man fell, God is presented to man under the double aspect of a just God and a great Saviour. The sentences pronounced on the guilty parties in Eden tell of an offended God, who has, lioweveY, provided a means of recon- ciliation. Sacrifices from henceforth become an essential part of all acceptable worship ; and in them the worshipper, laying his hand on the animal, devotes it to destruction in his room and stead, in acknowledgment that he himself deserves to die, and yet in confident expectation of forgiveness through a sub- stitute. The ancient Jew prayed morning and evening with his face towards the tabernacle or temple in which the lamb was being offered in sacrifice, and this in token of his belief in a means by which his person and services were accepted. The types of the Old Testament are still employed in the New Tes- tament as means of communicating instruction, and serve the same purpose as pictures and symbols in a skilfully taught elementary school , The Old Testament is not superseded by. 490 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO the ]Sreu\ The one is a preparation for the other, not only historically, but also to some extent morally, in the training of the mind of the disciple. Introduce the reader into the New Testament, untutored by the Old, and he will feel a difficulty in grasping several of its truths. There is a great depth of mean- ing in the saying of an apostle, that the law is our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ. Besides supplying a body and a life to our conceptions, the Old Testament ordinances positively give us some of the conceptions themselves. We have seen that the conscience decides according to the view presented to it. Hence the importance of right conception, in order to the satisfying of the conscience. Hence the pains which God took to raise a people in ancient times — the Israelites, for instance, just delivered from bondage in Egypt — to correct views of God, and the relation in which they stood to him. All that training through which they were put, has been handed doAvn to us as a legacy, in much the same way as the discoveries in science and the arts are handed down from one age to another.* We become trained, as it were, in their training, and all that we may rise to correct conceptions of the character of God, and of the relation subsisting between him and man. We confidently affirm, that no other conception of the Divine character tan satisfy all the essential parts of the constitution which God hath given to man — can satisfy at once the con- science and the affections. Such is the view presented in the earliest revelation which God gave of himself. In the New Testament, the same view is exhibited, but much more clearly ; and we have " Jesus Christ evidently set forth as crucified," and God displayed in " the face of his Son." " The only-begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him." So far as we are under the faith of the New Testament, we cannot look up to heaven "without discovering an advocate, which is Jesus Christ the Eighteous, standing at the right hand of God, or a Lamb before the throne. We have this very strikingly exhibited in the latest revelation * We have seen (pp. 119-128) that there is a typical system in nature; there is also a typical system in the Word of God ; and it might be shewn that both are suited to human intelligence, whicli delights to think by means of images oi » figures, and to arrange objects according to types. See " Typical Forms." THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 491 which God has given. The apostle who closes the canon of Scripture is carried up in vision into heaven, where he sees an exalted and awful throne, surrounded by angels and saints, and innumerable living and immortal beings. Having surveyed the scene in mute astonishment, his attention is called to a book sealed with seven seals, containing evidently the mystery which, being unfolded, is to reconcile heaven to earth. A strong angel is heard asking with a loud voice, which fills heaven and earth, " Who is worthy to open the book ?" An awful pause ensues. No one in heaven or earth, or throughout the wide universe, is able for the task, and John weeps over the weakness of creation. While thus desponding, he is told of one fit for the mighty work. He turns his eye to see, and what does he behold ? Is it some grand and imposing sight, is it a splendid throne, or a dazzling light, or a majestic form, is it the mightiest of the angels clothed with the sun ? No ; as he looks, he sees an emblem of weakness and of sorrow, of suffering and of death ; the sight presented in the very midst of the throne of God was of " a Lamb as it had been slain." There follows a succession of views or pictures of God and the redeemed ; and it is a remarkable circumstance, that in every one of these the same image is presented. He obtains a lively view of the blessed inhabitants of heaven — and " they stand before the throne and before the Lamb." He hears their praise, and it is " Salvation to our God that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb." A question is put as to the past history of those who now stand in white robes, and it is said, " They have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." He sees them in the enjoyment of the glory provided for them : " They hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; because the Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and lead them to living fountains of waters." In another passage, John is represented as looking, and lo, a lamb stood on Mount Zion, and with him a great multitude ; and who are they, and whence their joy ? They are they " who follow the Lamb whitherso- ever he goeth." In one of the closing chapters, we have a lengthened description of the holy city prepared for the saints ; its walls are of jasper, high and deep, with twelve foundations ; its streets and dwellings are of pure gold, with a foundation ot precious stones; its gates are pearls, and its watchmen are 492 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN OEDER TO angels. But these splendours do not separately nor conjointly constitute the glory of heaven. Its chief ornament is its tem- ple : " And the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it, for the glory of God enlightens it, and the Lamb is the light thereof" The sinner is made to feel that he dare not look up to heaven, unless he see the Lamb before the throne ; but feels that he can look up with confidence when God is presented under this aspect. Such is the consistent conception of God which the Scriptures lead us to entertain. It looks as if it were the conception above all others (we believe there is no other) fitted at once to give satisfaction to our moral nature and our sensibilities. (2.) The conscience is rectified. It is one of the most melan- choly effects of the corruption of man's nature, that his very conscience has become bewildered. Eecognising in a general way the distinction between good and evil, it makes sad mistakes in its particular decisions. The deceitful heart has taught it the art of looking through a false medium at the sins which the possessor of it commits, and thus enables him to enjoy an all but unbroken self-complacency. It is difficult, above all things, to rouse the conscience from this its somnolence, through mere addresses to it of truth derived from the natural conscience, for against all such appeals it hath already fortified itself In order to its being roused, there must be an address from a higher region — there must be a voice from heaven, recalling it to its pristine recollections. We have heard of the high-born prince, lost and degraded from his youth, and with no surviving knowledge of his native grandeur, having the memory of it awakened by the voice of a friend, who had been with him in the scenes of his younger years, and who recalls incidents which make the forgotten truth flash upon his mind. There needs such a voice — the voice of a pure and holy law, descended from the region in which the conscience received its first instruction, to re- call it to a sense of its present disorder and primitive destination. And the voice which rouses it must continue to guide it. For never did it feel itself so helpless as now when it is awakened to a proper sense of its condition. Before, it was wandering without knowing it; but now it feels itself bewildered as in a forest, and the very tracks before it confusing it the more, for it knows not THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 493 which one to choose. Ever going wrong, it knows not when it is right ; and it has a painful feeling of the need of something by which to reguhite itself, and in accordance with which it may move. The hiw, then, has not only, in the first instance, to arouse the conscience, it has to serve the farther purpose of riirhtinjr it in its motions. When it hath lost its delicate sensi- biHty, and its power of direction, there seems to be only one method of restoration, and that is, by placing it alongside of a pure standard of right and wrong, as the magnetized iron which hath lost its virtue is restored by being bound up for a time with a correctly pointing magnet. III. The Affections are gained. (1.) Here let us mark how it is needful, in order to this, that the conscience be ap- peased. An evil conscience always leads the mind to avoid, as if instinctively, the remembrance of the party offended. There cannot, then, be love to God in a mind in which conscience has not been appeased, nor can there be any of those cognate graces of faith,, confidence, hope, and joy, which ought to fill and animate the soul. The appeasing of this moral avenger is an indispensable preliminary to the flowing out of the afiections towards God. Provision is made for this in the Christian re- ligion, but in no other religion recommended to man. The philosophic systems have no proposed method of appeasing the conscience. The more influential of the superstitions that have prevailed in the world have felt the need of satisfying God and the conscience, and have set man on a vain attemi)t to accom- plish this end by means of the affections which he cherishes and the services he pays, forgetting that no true affection will be cherished, and that therefore no acceptable service can be paid, till first the conscience is assuaged. Herein lies the weakness of all the philosophic religions, that they do not so much as profess to make any provision to meet this felt want ; and herein lies the weakness of all forms of superstition, that they would accomplish the end by means which cannot be attained till the end itself is attained. The former do not so much as profess to give what to the sinner is a prerequisite to the commencement of religion, and the latter set us in search of it in a road which ever leads back to the point at which we started. In Chris- tianity, and in it alone, a provision is made for thoroughly cleansing the heart fiom the sense of guilt, that thus the soul 494 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDEK TO may be allured upwards in holy aflfection, and onward in prac- tical godliness. Not only so, but in order to gain the heart there must be a free, a full, and instant forgiveness. It must be free ; for it cannot be purchased. It must be full ; for if anything were left unforgiven, the conscience would still grumble, and the soul, so far, would be in a state of enmity and rebellion. It must be instant ; otherwise the mind, still without peace, could not begin to cherish confidence and aflfection. Nothing short of this will allay its agitated waves, and allow the image of God, who is love, to be reflected on the bosom. Besides this instinctive aversion which it excites towards God, an evil conscience is ever, it may be unconsciously, a source of irritation. We say, Peace, peace, when there is no peace. How can there be peace, when the soul is not at peace with its Maker .? And when the soul is not at peace with God, it cannot be at peace with itself When conscience, as the regulator, has lost its control, all the other principles of the human mind are in disorder, and are moving with appalling rapidity, and each in succession disturbing the soul, and all adding to the tumult. Instead of love, peace, and trust, there will be instincts, lusts, and passions, under no restraint except that which is laid upon them by their jostling against one another. When the winds of heaven cease, the waves of the ocean gradually rock them- selves to rest ; and when the conscience, acting on behalf of God, ceases to lash the soul, there is a preparation made for all the thoughts and feelings gradually composing themselves into calmness and repose. • (2.) Let us mark how, contemporaneously with the pacifying of the conscience, there is presented an object fitted to win the affections, now at liberty to flow towards it. The Saviour, who delivers us from the condemnation of sin, presents himself in all his loveliness in order to gain our hearts. " Whom having not seen, ye love." Some, we are aware, would doubt of the possibility of our loving an object which we have not seen, and would represent the affection of the believer to his unseen Redeemer as visionary in the extreme. But in doing so, they shut their eyes to a property of our nature which is every day in exercise — truly, there are persons who do the greatest dishonour to human nature, while they pretend to exalt THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 495 it. Man is so constituted by his Maker, as to be able and dis- posed to love objects that are distant and unseen. We go farther, and maintain that it is not sense which kindles the mental affection of love. It is conception, the conception of a lovely object, which calls forth love towards that object ; and sense aids affection only so far as it aids our conceptions, and in making them more vivid, makes them more fitted to awaken the emotion. Let us inquire whether we have not in the Scripture representation of Jesus everything needful to call forth emotion. Let us inquire, in particular, whether we have not much that makes up for the Avant of sensible manifestation. First, we have in the Word a very clear and lively picture ol the character of the Kedeemer. When the information commu- nicated to us, in regard to any given individual, is very vague and imperfect, it is difficult, however worthy he may be, to fix our affections upon him. Had we been commanded to love Jesus, without any particular account being given of his life or his love, and without the lovely features of his character being delineated, it must have been very difficult to obey. But in Jesus, as presented to us in the Gospels, we have everything to attract and retain the affections. 0 that we had but lived in the days when Jesus tabernacled on the earth ! is the wish ■which will at times rise up in our breasts. So situated, we think that it might have been easier for us to love him. In opposition to such vain wishes, and the gross ideas on which they are founded, we maintain that we have a view of the character of Jesus as much fitted to engage the affections as even those who are supposed to have been so much more highly favoured. Let us suppose that we had been living in the land of Judea, at the time when Jesus was working his miracles and publishing his sublime doctrine. On hearing a report of the new Teacher, we hasten with the crowding thousands to listen to his discourse ; we hear one, it may be, of the most beautiful of his parables, or see him perform one of the most signal of his miracles. The whole transaction leaves a deep impression on our minds ; and because we have seen, we believe. But in tho meantime Jesus and the crowd sweep by, or he retires to the mountains to pray, or he visits some otlier part of the land ; and we are constrained to return to the cares and business of life, and have few other opportunities of meeting with him. 496 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN OKDER TO Now, Tve maintain that we, who have the full Scriptures in om hands, have a better means of forming a full and attractive conception of our Lord than even those who lived in these apparently so favourable circumstances. In the writings of the Evangelists, we have his beautiful discourses, his striking par- ables, his casual remarks, all collected within a narrow compass, and a lively delineation of his conduct, with the particular inci- dents of it, by parties who lose sight of themselves in thinking of their Master, and never interpose to obstruct any of the light which comes from him. We, as it were — so lively is the painting — see Jesus acting, and hear him speaking, and that in a great variety of interesting and instructive circumstances. We see him while with his disciples, and with the Jewish doctors ; amidst the acclamations of the people, and amidst their execra- tions too ; as he rejoiced over the conversion of sinners, and as he grieved over their hardness of heart ; as he pitied his enemies, and as he wept over the grave of a friend. We have all this, in books so simple, that a child can understand them, and so brief, that a little space of time will enable any one to peruse them. Secondly, the Being whom we are expected to love is con- stantly bestowing favours upon us. We are willing to grant, that in ordinary circumstances, distance has a tendency to lessen the regard which friends entertain towards one another ; but when we have around us constant memorials of our friend, the influence of separation will be counteracted. When the bereaved mourner, when the widower, for instance, looks around his dwelling, and sees in every part of it the peculiar property, or perhaps the very workmanship, of a beloved consort ; and when the widow sees in every child that clusters around her knee the image of a lost husband, — they feel as if the departed were still present, and that amidst these memorials they can never forget those of whom they are so reminded. Now, the believer feels himself to be thus surrounded by memorials of God in his works — in the heavens and earth, and in his wonderful providence. The fact that God has made it adds a new lustre to every star, a new beauty to every flower, and the meanest of the works of God carry up the mind to the great Creator. Distance, we acknowledge, has a tendency to lessen the affection of friends ; but this influence may be overborne when the friend is ever bestowing substantial favours. The believer does not feel that THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 497 God is absent, when he is constantly sustained by his power and fed by his bounty. The believer in Christ connects his very temporal mercies with the work and sufferings of his Saviour. " Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our salvation" Thirdly, there is provided a means of communication between the believer and the object of his affection. Granting that dis- tance may tend to diminish the affection of friends, we find this influence lessened when they can correspond by letter, or have frequent opportunities of meeting. We are willing to acknow- ledge that the love of the believer would grow cold and languid were he shut out from all communication with his God. But, in gracious condescension, God engages to meet with those that love him — not, indeed, in bodily presence, but not on that account the less truly, effectually, and comfortably ; and love him as they may, they are assured that he is loving them with a ten thousand-fold greater affection. It is one of the most beneficent of the effects of the gospel, that it provides for the renewal of that fellowship with God which man had lost, but after which he is still aspiring in his deeper moods of mind. In this communion, there are all the elements to be found in the fellowship of a man with his neighbour. In human fellowships there are four elements — we speak to our neighbour, and he hears us ; he speaks to us, and we hear him ; and thus there is a thorough interchange of thought and feeling. There are the same elements in our fellowship with God when by faith we rise to it ; we pour out our hearts before him, and he listens to us ; he condescends to instruct us, and we attend to the lessons which he is giving. With such means of communication avail- able, the believer feels as if his Saviour were present with him ^way ; and so far as he still feels that the communion is dis- tant, so far as he still mourns an absent Lord, it is to desire more earnestly to reach that place where he shall enjoy a closer and an unbroken communion. Aided by such circumstances as these, it is possible to form a vivid and abiding conception of the character of the Being whom we are required to love. And that character has in itself every- thing that is grand and yet attractive. Just as there is a beauty of shape and colour that pleases the eye, and a sweetness of sound that delights the ear, so there is a moral loveliness which 21 498 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO ought to draw towards it the affections of the soul. But here, in the character of Christ as God, we have all kinds of beauty meeting and harmoniously blending. The excellencies to be found separately and to a limited extent in the creature, all meet and are infinite in him. We profess to admire true ma- jesty when we meet with it ; and will we not admire the Ancient of Days, on the throne of the universe, amidst the hosts of heaven, and exercising dominion over unnumbered worlds ? With what should we be so much struck as with spotless holi- ness, which shrinks from the very appearance of evil ? Alas ! our eyes, as they wander over the world, cannot discover it among men, but here we have it shining in beauty, without a spot to detract from its loveliness. Do we feel ourselves con- strained to admire benevolence ? and will not our feelings flow towards Him who hath filled every part of creation, air, earth, and ocean, woods and waters, with animated beings, sustained by his power and fed by his bounty ? Are our hearts softened by that tenderness which can forgive an enemy and receive him as a friend ? and will they not melt in love when we hear of God pardoning the very chief of sinners, stretching out his arms to embrace them, and preparing for them enjoyments as glorious as they are enduring ? And there are qualities in the person and character of the object set foith to our contemplation and love which endear him yet more to the heart. In the very idea of an infinite God there is something calculated to overpower the spirit of weak and sinful man. Man, in every age of the world's histojy, has been afraid to look upon the full purity of God. His mind, pained by the contemplation, has been at great pains to carnalize a spiritual God, and embody him in symbol. Man has ever been carnalizing God, and in carnalizing has degraded him,* but here, in the Christian system^ is a God incarnate without being degraded. In the Mediator, the Divine and human na- tures are united, and in such a manner that the one does not destroy or overpower the other, but each retains its own ])ro- perties, and the whole is in unity and harmony. The bright- ness of the Father's glory, without being shorn of a single ray, is represented under a milder lustre. All coldness and distrust are banished when we remember that, in drawing' near to Christ, it Is man coming to man. Unbelief is dispelled when we con- THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 499 sider, that we have a brother's heart beating for us upon the throne of glory. As in water face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man. There is a universal sympathy between the members of the human family — there is a universal language whicli finds a response in every man's bosom. The cry of distress on the part of one man awakens compassion in the breast of every other man. Let a person indicate that he is in trouble, and numbers will crowd around him with eager curiosity and intense emotion. The language of feeling and sentiment will ever stir up corre- sponding feeling and sentiment. The orator and poet exercise such power over mankind, because they address these essential feelings of humanity. While our hearts are naturally drawn, by certain sentiments and sympathies, to every other man, there are certain men, or classes of men, towards whom our hearts are attracted with greater force, as, for instance, towards all whose sensibilities are quick, and whose heart is tender. And if these persons have themselves been in trouble, if their heart has been melted and softened by the dispensations of God pressing heavily upon them, our feelings turn towards them in yet stronger con- fidence. Disposed at all times to love such, our hearts are especially turned towards them when we ourselves are in trouble. Whoever may feel for us, we are sure they will feel for us, and we pour our complaints into their ears in the assurance of re- ceiving attention and sympathy. Now, this principle has a powerful influence in drawing the hearts of Christians so closely to their Saviour. The tenderness and sensibility of his human nature, as well as the holy love of his Divine nature, are brought before us in almost every inci- dent of his life. We recollect how he fed the hungry and healed all manner of diseases ; how he restored the young man, whose dead body was being carried out of the gates of the city of Nain, to the embraces of his mothej ; how he wept over the grave of Lazarus and the impending destruction of Jerusalem, • — and we run to him as to one who feels for us under all our trials. We remember how he himself was acquainted with grief, in its multiplied and diversified forms, in body and in spirit, inflicted by man and God ; how he was often an hun- gered, without a home, or where to lay his head ; how the tongue of calumny was raised against him, and the finger of 500 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO scorn pointed at him ; how the favours which he conferred were met by no corresponding gratitude ; how an apostle betrayed him, and the rulers of the nation condemned him, and the people demanded his crucifixion, and reviled him in the midst of his dying agonies ; how the Father himself forsook him ; — and when we remember this, we feel that there is no sorrow of ours which he will not commiserate. The friendless rejoice, for they have a friend in him ; the helpless take courage, for their help is in him ; the forsaken lift up their head and are com- forted, in communion with him who was himself forsaken. We have in him, the Son of God, and the Son of Man, the image, the only image (every other is idolatry) of God, and the model man, the type to which we are to look in the absence of any such pattern in our own hearts or among our fellow-men. An example in all things that we should follow his steps, he is especially so, in the spirit of self-sacrifice shewn by him, so un- like the spirit of the world. The great among men have become great by rising from a lower to a higher degree of power and honour ; but the greatness of the Son of God consisted chiefly in this, that he made himself " of no reputation." If we would but think it, there may be a greater glory in suffering and sorrow than in prosperity and splendour. There may, for example, be a greater glory in the soldier's death than in his life, — there was a greater glory in Samson's death than in all the achieve- ments of his life. But speak not of the glory of the soldier bleeding in defence of a nation's rights ; speak not of the glory of the patriot toiling and suffering for his country's freedom ; speak not of the glory of the martyr calm and rejoicing while tied to the burning stake ; these have no glory, because of the glory that excelleth, the glory of him who left the bosom of the Father in heaven to suffer upon the earth and die upon the cross. Such is the provision made negatively in removing obstacles to the flow of the affections, and positively in furnishing a suit- able object on which to fix them. Could any other than the God who made man have so suited the remedy to his nature and constitution ? IV. The change is accomplished in the heart of man in COMPLETE accordance WITH THE FREEDOM OF THE WiLL. Several interesting adaptations present themselves under this head. THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 501 (1.) There is a means, we have seen, of convincing the reason, and there is also a means of gaining the heart. These are not sufficient of themselves, such is the perversity of the human mind, radically to change the character ; but in the very foct that they are employed, there is a homage paid to the human will. It is of the nature of the will to be swayed by motives, in the formation of which, both the understanding and the emotions act a part, and in the Christian religion all these human principles have their full play and liberty. (2.) The blessed and Divine agent who produces the change commonly works through ordinances of God's appointment. The main means is the truth set forth in an inspired Word, and that truth of a kind eminently fitted to awe, and yet to elevate, to convince and persuade the soul. In the use of these means the mind is kept from indolence and inactivity, and yet is obliged to be humble and dependent. The Christian is spiri- tually put under an economy, not differing in the results, though differing in the means, from that under which every man is placed in the natural providence of God. In the use of the ordinary means which commonly lead to success in worldly matters, no man is absolutely sure of securing his end, owing to the cross arrangements of Divine providence, (which we were at pains to analyze in a former part of the Treatise,) while yet there is such a prospect of success as to hold out a motive to activity. It is by this double means, as we have seen, that the race is rendered at once active and dependent. It is most in- teresting to observe, that we find the same double agency in the spiritual dispensation of God, and that in this respect there is a beautiful analogy between the natural and spiritual economies. \Vhile there is a resemblance, there is also a difference. In the spiritual economy, the means employed are not of them- selves fitted to produce the end, and hence the Christian is rendered dependent on a higher power, while, at the same time, they usually produce the end, being so blessed of God, and so he has sufficient motive to vigilance and exertion. In the na- tural providence of God, on the other hand, the means produce the end of themselves, but may be thwarted by a thousand cross providences. May we not discover a design in the very diversity of the means employed ? In the natural providence of God the means produce their end by an inherent power, and so invarial)ly 502 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO produce the end, except in so far as they may be crossed by other agencies. All this is done in order that we may put trust in nature, in order that sight itself may induce us to cherish feith, and that we may see the interposition of God more im- pressively, when the end is not produced. In the spiritual pro- vidence of God, on the other hand, the mean has no inherent power to produce the end, and thus the Christian is prevented from trusting in it, and made to look more devotedly to God as the true and alone source of all spiritual excellence. It is the manner of God in all his works to accomplish the same end by more than one means, and we may discover the Divine wisdom in the very variation of the agency to suit the circumstances. (3.) We do not perceive the agent, who changes the character, at work ; but we conclude that he has been working, by discover- ing the effects produced. It is for this reason, among others, that he is compared to the wind. " Thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born of the Spirit." The silent nature of the Spirit's operations has sometimes made his agency to be denied altogether, by those who are ever demanding some sen- sible evidence of the truth communicated in the Word. But those who urge this objection, forget that many of the most powerful of the agents of nature are themselves unseen, and are only to be discovered by their fruits. We do not, for instance, see the wind whether it comes in the gentle breeze to fan us, or in the hurricane, to work such devastation among the labours of man and the very works of God. The heat that nourishes the plants of the earth, and the electricity so intimately connected with all atmospherical and organic changes, move secretly and in silence. These individuals forget that God is always himself unseen in the midst of his works. When we walk forth in the silence of eventide to meditate, we are constrained to acknow- ledge that God is everywhere present among these works of grandeur; and yet, by intense gaze, we cannot discover his person, nor, by patient listening, hear the sound of his footsteps, No.jarring sound of mechanism comes across the void that inter- venes between us and these heavens — no voice of boasting reaches our ears to tell of the worker ; it is the heavens themselves that declare his glory. And why should the God who created ua not be able to renew the heart when it is debased by the effects THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 503 of sin, and yet be as unseen in the one case as the other ? And there is a manifest congruity in the circumstance, that this agent conducts his work so silently and imperceptibly. It is only by such a mode of procedure that the spirit of man can retain its separate action and freedom. There is no violence done to man's nature in the supernatural work carried on in the heart. The dealings of God are, in every respect, suited to the essential and indestructible principles of man's nature. " I drew them with the cords of a man, with the bands of love." V. Given a fallen race ; to set them on a career of active OBEDIENCE — is a problem which all reformers and philanthropists of the highest order have been endeavouring to solve, and with but very meagre success. Eevelation professes to have solved it, and it propounds the following constructions : — (1.) It provides a pacified conscience and a pacified God, and both pacified in agreement with the law of their nature. Other and mere human systems make, and can make, no such provision, and hence their partial failure. Under a reproaching conscience, the mind feels an awkwardness in all the services which it would pay to God. When the servant is conscious of having given offence to his master, there will always be somewhat of constraint ' in the obedience rendered, till such time as he has made con- fession of guilt, and obtained forgiveness. There is a restraint proceeding from a like cause, in the service which the sinner, labouring under an unpacified conscience, would pay to God. Besides, when he has no reason to think that his past offences have been forgiven, he feels as if all future exertions must be utterly fruitless. After he has done his utmost, he feels that he has not fulfilled that law of God which is so straight, and so unbending just because it must be straight. Climb as he may the height of perfection, he sees the summit rising still above him, wrapped in darkness and lurid with flame. After he has made some great exertion, he looks to the law to see if it will give him a smile of approbation, and he beholds only a dark- ening frown upon its face. Lashed by conscience, he makes greater and yet greater struggles, only to feel all his toilsome labours to be like those of one labouring under a load whicli is crushing him to the ground, or like the convulsive struggles of a drowning man, whose efforts are sinking him more speedily in the waters. ^04 WHAT IS NEEDFUL IN ORDER TO There is an individual who has contracted a load of debt which it is impossible for him to pay ; and who, toil as he may, finds all his exertions to be lost, because they do not sensibly lessen his obligations. Care is painted on his countenance ; fear haunts him by day, and disturbs his rest at night. The load which is pressing on his mind comes at length to prostrate his energies ; he flees the society of his friends ; he buries himself in solitude, he is ready to give himself up to despondency and despair. He has lost all his accustomed energy and ingenuity, because he has lost all hope of success, and all motive to activity. How, we ask, is it possible to rouse this man anew to a healthy energy ? We know of only one way in which it can be eflfectually done. In his hour of deep mental prostration some friend runs to his aid, and supplies him with all that is required, in order to cancel his debt. The man now feels a burden lifted from his breast, while gratitude for the seasonable aid is quickening him to ex- ertion, and hope is anew irradiating his path. Behold him once more in his customary place, holding up his head in independence in the midst of his associates, engaged with his wonted energy in the discharge of duty, and regarding all his past difficulties as only an incentive to additional vigilance. The reader will at once see the application of this illustration, as fitted to lead him ' to acknowledge the propriety of that scheme in which the burden of condemnation is removed, to set forth man upon a career of renewed obedience. (2.) Eevelation displays a supernatural agency to lead the soul to love and obedience ; this agency, reaching the innermost principles of the mind, and that not to do them violence, but restore them to order. (3.) Eevelation displays also a means of gaining the affections by means of the objects presented to it. The service now paid by the reconciled heart is difierent altogether from the previous service. The one service, the legal service, was irksome ; the ■other is willing and cheerful. While the one is the task of a prisoner who cannot, labour as he may, earn his freedom, the other is the homage of a spirit restored to liberty. The one proceeds from the fear which prostrates, and so is restrained, limited, selfish ; the other proceeds from an inspiring confidence and a ready mind, and is in consequence hearty, generous, devoted. In the one, man works in the spirit of a hireling, THE RESTORATION OF MAN. 505 always pausing to ask if he lias not done enough, and if his taskmaster is not satisfied ; in the other, in the spirit of a son, who loves the service and him who appointed it, and is ever asking, if his Father in heaven has any other work whicli he wishes him to perform ? (4.) There is a heau ideal of excellence provided in the character of Jesus. All human excellence, whether earthly or spiritual, has been attained by the mind keeping before it, and dwelling upon, the ideas of the great, the good, the beautiful, the grand, the perfect. The tradesmen and mechanic attain to eminence by their never allowing themselves to rest till they can produce the most finished specimens of their particular work. The painter and sculptor travel to distant lands that they may see, and as it were fill their eye and mind with the sight of the most beautiful models of their arts. Poets have had their yet undiscovered genius awakened into life as they contemplated some of the grandest of nature's scenes — or as they listened to the strains of other poets, the spirit of poetry has descended upou them, as the spirit of inspiration descended upon Elisha while the minstrel played before him. The soldier's spirit has been aroused more than even by the stirring sound of the war- trumpet, by the record of tlie courage and heroism of other warriors. The fervour of one patriot has been created as he listened to the burning words of another patriot, and many a martyr's zeal has been kindled at the funeral pile of other martyrs. In this way fathers have handed down their virtues to their children, and parents have left their offspring a better legacy in their example than in all their wealth, and those who could leave them nothing else, have in this example left them the very richest legacy. In this way the good men of one age have influenced the characters of the men of another, and the deeds of those who have done great achievements have lived far longer than th.ose who performed them, and been transmitted from one generanon to another. Now we have such a model set before us in the character of Jesus. And in beholding by faith his image set before us in the Word as in a glass, our character becomes assimilated to his. In looking with open face into the face of Jesus, his likeness is impressed upon the soul a» we have seen the image of heaven reflected on the bosom of 9 \ranquil lake spread out beneath it. " We all ivith ojpenfacej 606 WHAT IS NEEDFUL FOR MANS RESTORATION. beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." We affirm, without any risk of contradiction, that no religion, rational or mythic,* originating in human wisdom or human history, has met, or even so much as attempted to meet, these fundamental principles of the human mind, which are all satis- fied in Christianity. It is surely strange, that a system in such heautiful harmony with all the constituent parts of man's nature, should have sprung up among the hills and plains of Judah. We could believe that a Hebrew shepherd composed the Principia of Newton, or propounded the principles of the Novum Organum, or the profoundest modern work on metaphysical philosophy, more readily than that he could thus have measured the heights of the Divine character, or sounded the depths of human nature. We are utteily confounded and lost in amaze- ment, till, above the plains where ancient shepherds tended their flocks, we see a light from heaven shining around them, and hear a voice guiding them to the Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. But we have reached the loci communes, the common places of divinity which pious divines have trodden, while the steps of peasants have followed them. These are the topics enlarged on from the pulpit, and which, followed out during the week by the ploughman in the fields, by the shepherd on the mountains, and the niechanic in the workshop, have furnished them with the most convincing and satisfying of all evidences. * The objection used to be, every faith has had its supernatural events, and the miracles of Scripture are like those of other religions. This was answered by showing that the miracles of our Lord were entirely different in their nature, and in the evidence supporting them, from the miracles of heathendom. The objection now is, that every religion has had its myths, and that the narratives of the Word of God are mythical. This is answered by showing that Scripture history ia corroborated, which myths never are, by history acknowledged to be true, and that they are different in their whole nature, and especially in their moral and religious tone, from any heathen fables. No records start up to corroborate the theogonies of Homer and Hesiod, as those of Nineveh confirm the Old Testament narrative. No human ingenuity could extract from any system of myths a pure morality, and still less a means of solving those great problems regarding the re- lation of God and man, which are settled in Christianity. But as the tendency to believe in supernatural interpositions shows that men have been looking for a revelation from heaven, so the disposition to embody faith in myths may be held as showing that they need a narrative as a means of instruction in doctrine. God has furnished in his Woi'd, what man has ever felt that he needed, but was unable to supply — a true narrative evolving pure precept and doctrine. ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. 507 ItLUSTBATiVB Note (H.)— THE GERMAN INTUITIONAL THEOLOGY. AVc think it needful to distinguish between the method which has been pursued in this work and that speculative spirit wliich some are seeking to introduce into our country through the German philosophy and theology. Throughout the whole of this Treatise we have been examining this world in an inductive manner, with the view of obtaining a solution of some of the most important questions on which the mind of man can meditate. These truths, if we do not mistake, conduct to a well-grounded belief in the Divinity of the Scriptures. But when reason has handed us over to revelation, it bids us listen to tliat revelation. This witness as much as says, " There standeth one among you greater than I, and I exhort you to look to him." There is an end for the present — and we should hope for ever — to that boasted rationalist school which prevailed to some extent in our land in a former age. Ilo icicles, thought to be so very beautiful, and really so very cold, have melted away in the heat of a more fervent season. But the dreamy sultriness which has suc- ceeded is as unwholesome, and as unfavourable to spiritual life, as the cold which it has banished. All deep and earnest thinkers now see that there are truths in every branch of science too high, too deep, and too broad to be defined by a formal logic, or grasped by the logical understanding, that is, by the understanding logically employed. Human logic cannot define electricity or heat, nor explain vegetable or animal life ; and how can we expect it to unfold the mysteries of the Godhead, and the Divine decrees? The human understanding, so far from being able to prove everything, needs itself a basis on which to rest, and that basis unproved and incapable of proof Instead of the batio.nalist, we have now what we may call the iktuitional TDKOLOGT. It is not now the understanding, but intuitions of thought and feeling which are placed above the Word, and to them, with the AVord as a mere servant or assistant, is allotted the task of constructing a religion. The religion thus devised, if not so consistent as that formed by the understanding, is vastly more showy and gorgeous, and suits itself to a great many more of the impulses of human nature. As in natural religion the blank scepticism of former times has been obliged, in the present day, to clothe itself in the dress of pantheism, to keep mankind from utterly abhorring it ; so, in revealed religion, the rationalism, which was felt to be insuiBcient for any one practical purpose whatsoever, either in the restraining of sin or the gendering of holiness, has become a more pretending intuitionalism. Persons who believe in the Scriptures in no higher sense than they believe in Homer, Pythagoras, or Plato, who coiAd not give an intelligible answer to the question, "What think ye of Christ? whose son is he?" and who know not so much as what the Holy Ghost meaneth, do yet decorate their pages with constant references to faith, to spiritual life, and the religious consciousness. It would carry us too for away from our present purpose to trace the history of this system ; nor do we think it, needful carefully to allot to each supporter his share of the heterogeneous materials which have been collected to build the fabric. Certain principles laid down by Kant — principles which we regard as false in them- selves (see APPE.NDIX vi.) — were being ibllowed out in Germany to their legitimate consequences, and producing a very pretending form of universal scepticism, when Jacobi rushed in to protect philosophy by setting up Feeling (Gefuehl) as a counterpart principle to the Understanding. Schleiermacher carried a similar principle into theology, and sought to construct a religion out of feeling or con Bciousness. This scheme has been adopted by De Wette, and even, we regret tc 508 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. say, to some extent by Neander and other eminent divines, ■who have of late years been defending their system against another supported by the followers of Hegel which professes to be more rational and logical. In doing so, it should be ac- knowledged that they have furnished very able defences and beautiful exhibi- tions of some of the essential truths of Christianity. But, as the practical result of the whole, the scepticism which began with the universities and the clergy has now gone down to the common people, and has assumed, at least in the cities, a form sufSciently vulgar and offensive ; and the followers of Schleiermacher find that they have no power to allay the spirit which has been called up, for the dreamy intuitions of the divines are felt to be as incapable of being grasped by the practical understanding of the common people, as they are acknowledged to be incapable of being apprehended by the logical understanding of the philoso- phers. Yet this is the system which is being imported in to our country by certain clergymen of the Anglican Establishment and Congregational ministers in England. In particular, Mr. Morell, after mixing with it a farther medley from the eclectic philosophy of Cousin, is seeking to recommend it to the British public. Our limits do not admit of our exposing its errors, but we are tempted to point out the fallacies to be found in some of its principles. 1st, We insist that no intuition be admitted in philosophic or religious specula- tion, till it is proved by induction to be in the constitution of the mind — nay, till its nature and rule be pointed out. Crede ut intelUgas was the maxim of Anselm, and the counterpart maxim of Abelard, intellige ut credas. Both maxims are true, and the one limits the other. We acknowledge that there are intuitions in the human mind, and that, without them, the understanding, having no basis, could erect no superstructure. The whole would be like multiplying nothing by no- thing— the result would still be nothing. But then we are not entitled in any speculation to proceed on an alleged intuition, till it has been shown to be an intuition. Nor can an appeal on this subject be made to the consciousness, for we are not immediately conscious of an intuition. We can be conscious only of the working of an intuition, and he who would determine what the intuition is, must by induction ascertain its law. The intuition, it is true, acts spontaneously in the mind, whether we observe it or not — nay, it must first act before we can observe it ; but then, the previous observation is necessary, in order to our assuming this intuition in philosophic investigation. The intuitions act according to fixed principles, and these are the true principles of metaphysical philosophy ; but we are not directly cognizant of them as general principles, and we cannot use them in science, till we have specified their precise nature. By no process of induction can we demonstrate the truth of fundamental principles, but it is only by a process of induction that we can find out what they are, and make a scientific use of them.* If we neglect to do so, we may find ourselves starting with error, and so can never arrive at truth, and the mind would ever have to • We are prepared to defend the following propositions in regard to innate ideas or consiitutional principles of the mind: — I. Negatively, that there are no innate ideas in the mind, (1.) as images or mental representations; nor, (2.) as abstract or general notions; nor, (3.) as principles of thought, belief, or action, before the consciousness, as principles. But II. Positively, (1.) that there are con- stitutional principles operating in the mind, though not before the consciousness, as general principles; (2.' that these come forth into consciousness as individual (not general) cognitions or judgments ;and» (3.) that these individual exercises, when carefully inducted — but only when so— give us primitive or philosophic truths. It follows that, while these native principles operate in the mind spontaneously, we are entitled to use them reflexly, in philosophic or theologic speculation, only after having determined their nature by abstraction and generalisation. (See Illcstbatitb Note £, pp. 280-281, and Afpsncix ri.) THE GERMAN INTUITIONAL THEOLOGY. 509 unweave its own web. Nay, this latter error may just as readily conduct to scepticism as the former ; for (to borrow an illustration applied to reasoning in Plato's Phacdo, § 89) as the individual who has trusted every man that professes to be his friend, comes at last to be utterly sceptical of the existence of friendship, so the person who sets out with believing every supposed natural intuition, may speedily arrive at a universal infidelity. For ourselves, we are exceedingly sus- picious of some of those intuitions on which the theologians of Germany would rear such a superstructure, such as faith in God, consciousness of God, the know- ledge of the infinite and absolute, the gazing upon truth as a whole, the perception of abstract beauty and holiness, and the religious life or consciousness. We would like to see them thoroughly sifted and tested, in the sense in which we have explained, by human intelligence, while we would like to sec such an ac- knowledged intuition and faculty as the conscience followed out to its legitimate consequences by the learning and penetration of a German philosopher.* 2dli/, We maintain that revelation addresses itself to the other qualities of the mind as well as the intuitions or intuitional consciousness. We have our doubts of the propriety of arranging, in a general way, all the higher faculties of the mind, into the logical understanding and the intuitional consciousness. What is made of the conscience on such a system — what of the will — what of the emotions? Religion, as a practical matter, is not addressed exclusively either to the logical understanding or the intuitions. Just as any one of them, or the two combined, cannot make any man a faithful father or an obedient son, a just sovereign or a righteous judge, so they are incapable of turning the sinner into a good Christian. The Christian religion addresses itself to the whole soul, providing evidence and facts for the understanding, and truth which shines in its own light to the reason; holding forth a perfect law and a perfect righteousness to the moral faculty; excellence to gain the will and loveliness to draw the affections ; exhibiting these now separate and scattered in individual persons, incidents and propositions, and again displaying them all in unity in the character of God and Christ. As each of these foculties is addressed, so each has its part to perform ; the understanding apprehending the facts, examining the evidence, and defending the truth ; the reason sanctioning and adopting the ti'uth when presented ; the conscience bring- ing the sinner to the knowledge of sin, and approving of the righteousness of Christ ; the will accepting of God as the perfect good ; and the affections flowing forth towards God and all mankind, and enlivening the soul as they flow. We deny that religion has its seat among the mere intuitions. It spreads itself over the soul, and every faculty and feeling has a work to perform. Sdli/, It is a Divine appointment, that the objective truth presented in the Word should be the means of rectifying the whole soul. There is truth presented to all and each of the faculties, that all and each of the faculties may be rectified. There are persons who complain of the Word, because it is not addressed to some one department of the human soul, on which they set a high value. The systematic divine wonders that it is not a mere scheme of dogmatic theology, forgetting that in such a case it would address itself exclusively to the understanding. The German speculatists, on the other hand, complain that it is not a mere exhibition of the pure ideas of the true and the good, forgetting that in such a case it would have little or no influence on the more practical faculties. Others seem to regret that it is not a mere code of moralitj', while a fourth class would wish it to be altogether an appeal to the feelings. But the Word is inspired by the same God * Tho real intuitions of the human soul arc just the human faculties uid feelings acting according 10 their fundamental principles. (See Appsmdix vi.) 510 ILLUSTRATIVE NOTE. who formed man at first, and who knows what is in man ; and he would rectify not merely the understanding or intuitions, not merely the conscience or affections, but the whole man after the image of God. It is the enlarged and comprehensive character of the Word which makes narrow minds complain of it. Its variety is as great as that of the faculties and feelings, which it would restore to their primitive state and proper exercise. ^thhj, There are in the human mind capacities to apprehend the truth presented in the Word. " There is a light which lighteth every man which cometh into the world," (John i. 9,) and this light we are assured comes from the Eternal Logos. What the nature of that light is, we seem to be told in Rom. i. 20, and ii. 14, 15. It is partly external, being the light which shines from the works of God, and partly internal, that which is reflected from the moral constitution of man. What we need in the present day in systematic theology, is a scientific exposition of these two elements. Until they are unfolded in an inductive manner, we have no right to use them in the construction of any system. Christian or anti- Christian. For if Schleiermacher appeals to feeling, so also do Rousseau, Emerson, and F. Newman, and in order to determine which is making the legitimate use of feeling, we must inquire, in the manner of Lord Bacon, what feeling is, and what feeling says. Physical science is unfolding, in this way, the external facts, and mental science should bring out in the same manner the internal intuitions. This treatise may be regarded as a proflFered contribution towards such a construction of the elements of natural religion. The internal capacities and principles at the basis of them, constitute the natural subjective of which some make so much. These, if inductively unfolded, will of themselves shew that they do not render supernatural truth unnecessary, nay, one of their deepest utterances is a cry for something which they cannot furnish, but which is supplied in the Word of God. For while there is light in the world, it is light which " shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." (John i. 5.) bthhj. Along with the objective "Word, there is a Divine power applying it. internally, not merely to the intuitions, but to the whole faculties of the soul. This Divine power does not act independently of the objective truth presented in the Word, but acts by means of the truth, and thus deals with man as an intelli- gent and free agent. It is by the double influence of the objective truth and the subjective operation of the Spirit of God, that the religious life or consciousness is awakened within. Qthhj, It appears evident to us that the truth presented in the Word must, in order to rectify the faculties and feelings, be pure truth, without any admixture of error. A corrupted truth presented to a corrupted mind would be a new element of confusion and derangement thrown into the already bewildered mind. Were the mind not perverted, it would not need such truth to rectify it, but, being perverted, it requires truth to set it right ; but should the revelation made to it be mixed truth and error, it could not, because it is perverted, separate the one from the other. " The harmony of our nature," says Mr. Morell, " has been disturbed, and with it the power of intuition is at once diminished and rendered uncertain."* The same author, following his German masters, lets us know, that the Bible is mistaken as to its historical and scientific facts, incorrect in its language as expressing the truth meant to be conveyed, erroneous in doctrine, not unfrequently wrong in its morality, and illogical in its reasoning. Every one must see that a word so defective is not fitted to restore the disturbed harmony of the soul, or to give certainty to the intuitions, but would rather tend to increase the distraction * Philosophy of Religioi;, p. 69. THE GERMAN INTUITIONAL THEOLOGY. 511 and the painful uncertainty. The soul which has lost its proper moTcmcnt needs a pure standard to rectify it, just as a disordered timepiece needs a dial. Had the Word come to the soul as a mixture of truth and error, it would only have thickened the doubts of the anxious and inquiring spirit. In such a case no one could have been sure, in any given passage, whether it was the God of truth that was speaking, or merely Paul or John, or whether Paul or John had or had not committed a mistake. Nor could the mind, as yet perverted and disorganized, be expected to distinguish between the truth and the falsehood, and it would be constantly fixing on the falsehood as truth, and on the truth as falsehood. We cannot be grateful enough to God, who hath not left man to wander in an abyss of darkness, where he cannot get truth without error, and yet has no light to enable him to distinguish the one from the other. Ithly, They are putting that which is first last, and that which is last first, who seek first a religious life, and then imagine that mankind are to devise a religion for themselves by means of that religious life. For how are we to get the religious life but by means of the truth ? The divines of the school referred to are speaking perpetually about the importance of the religious life : but they do not tell us dis- tinctly how the sinner naturally without it may be made to attain it.* Now, we set as high a value as they do on a religious life : we acknowledge that without it there can be no acceptable worship or service, no true enjoyment of God or of the pleasm'es of religion. It is because we set so high a value upon the religious life, that we set so high a value on the inspired Word, as the means of awakening it. There is first the truth recommended by evidence, apprehended in some measure by the mind, and pressed upon the acceptance of the soul ; and then, there is the truth acknowledged and received in faith, through the subjective operation of the Spirit of God ; there is all this as preliminary to the religious consciousness. The religious consciousness thus produced consists of a many-coloured robe of righteousness, clothing and adorning the whole soul. Nor do we regard ourselves as guilty of any real or even apparent contradiction when we add, that it is by means of the spiritual life awakened within, that the believer rises to a full com- prehension and enjoyment of the truth which first awakened that life. But, Bthhj, We cannot admit that the religious life, even when produced, has any right to sit in judgment upon the Word. For how do we obtain the religious life but by the truth ? Nor does it seem possible to attain a true spiritual life but by a scheme of pure truth, bringing with it certainty and assurance to the disordered and bewildered mind. That truth was conveyed to the early Church by the Old Testament Scriptures, and by the inspired teaching of the Apostles, or of persons instructed by them, and in after ngcs it is conveyed by means of the completed Scriptures. That Word comes to us as the truth of God, and when accepted it assures the mind, and succeeds in rectifying it ; but having accepted it as the truth of God, we are not at liberty to treat it as a mixture of truth and error. We are now to obey the truth, and not make the truth obey us. As the mind needs pure truth presented to rectify its judgments, so it cannot, when rectitied, treat that truth as if it were impure— accepting what it pleases, and re« jecting the rest, according to what it believes to be its intuitions. Nor is it to be forgotten that the religious life, even when formed in the soul, does not arrive at perfection on this side the grave. The religious life needs anew to be fed and strengthened by the truth which at first quickened it. Not even ♦ Mr. MoreU seems to derive the religious life from a very low source. " Our religious lift wo receive, for the most part Iradilionally, from the development of the Christian consciousnees in th« ditferent commuiiitiea which now compose the visible Church." — PhiL of Iteliglon, p. 188., 512 THE WORLD TO COME, those who are in possession of spiritual life are in a state to set that life above the truth which has gendered it ; for as it was by this truth that the religious life was first produced, so it is by the same truth that it is perfected. Nor are they at liberty to despise the letter, in a pretended attention to the spirit. Every man who acts in this manner will at times be putting his own spirit in the room of the Spirit of truth, and will be found assertine that to be the Spirit of the Word which is merely his own spirit. This placing of the intuitions above the Word is in some respects more perilous than the setting of the understanding above the Word ; for, when the understand- ing thus presumes to act as the arbiter of revealed truth, we can meet it on its own grounds. Its dogmas, if unsound, are at least clear and intelligible, and so can be met and refuted. But this intuitional theology carries us into a region where every man's own spirit creates for him a scheme, which cannot be so much as examined, because it cannot be developed in a clear system, or put in such a shape as to admit of its refutation. In these circumstances we do not regret to find, that God seems to have sent among the builders of this heaven-defying tower such a spirit of confusion and variance, that no two of them can speak the same language. We have a deep admiration of the genius and learning of the German philoso- phers and divines ; but with all their ability and scholarship, they will never arrive at a system of speculative philosophy, clear and consistent, true and useful, progressive and permanent, till they condescend to study the human mind in an inductive manner ; nor will they ever develop a sound system of theology, till they submit to sit at the feet of Jesus, and receive with meekness the Word from him. SECT. V. — THE WORLD TO COME. The world to come, of which we speak, may be understood, first, as the future earth ; and, secondly, as the state of man after death. FiEST, THE FUTURE EARTH. The past and the present point alike to the future. We live not only in a world of change — we live in a world of progress. There has been a gradual and evidently an intended advancement in the physical and intel- lectual amelioration of the race. While every benevolent mind must rejoice in this, it is just to regret the more that these real improvements are incapable of renovating man's nature morally or spiritually. The improvements of which we boast are mere means or instruments, which may be used for good, but which are also employed for evil. The electric telegraph will employ its lightning velocity in the service of sin, just as readily as in the service of God. Painting and statuary have been patronized, not unfrequently, by the most selfish and profligate of men — • such as the Medici — and have been corrupting as well as refining THE WORLD TO COME. 613 the minds of their votaries. Music must ever waft the spirit of man into a region of greater loveliness and grandeur than the actual world ; but instead of lifting it to heaven, it has often transported it into scenes where sin is rendered the more fascinating by the dress in which it is presented. Architecture has built temples to God ; but it has also built mansions, in which temptation has spread its allurements, and its temples have been as frequently dedicated to superstition as to the true worship of God. There is no one power or element in the world capable of regenerating it. The power which regenerates the world, like that which regenerates individual sinners, must descend from a higher region. Nay, the very Church of God, and the Word of God, cannot of themselves regenerate the world. They are inadequate for so great a work ; because they cannot, by their own power, change human nature. With all our privileges, we feel that there is still something wanting. Our very acquisitions impress us the more with our still remaining deficiencies. We are more aston- ished at the crimes coming to light in our day, than we are in reading of the same deeds committed in any previous age. The creature is still groaning ; and it will continue to do so, till, ac- cording to the promise of the Word, the Spirit is poured out on all flesh. Not that we are on this account to despise or hate our world. We are rather to love that world which God so loved as to give his Son to suffer and to die for it. Whatever the gloomy and disappointed may say to the contrary, this world of ours is a glorious world after all. It is glorious in the displays which it gives of the Divine perfection and beneficence — glorious in its capacity, and the instruments ready for use. Let but human nature, as the root of bitterness, be regenerated ; and then all its capabilities, all its acquisitions and improvements, will be devoted to the most beneficent purposes, and will change the very as[)ect of the world. The state of the earth depends essentially on the character of its principal inhabitant : and when the character of man is renovated, the state of our world will be renovated also ; the agencies, at present conflicting, will become conspiring ; that which is barren will become fruitful ; and that which is hurtful will become beneficent. Wc live in the lively expectation of a coming era, when the work which the first man failed to accom- 2K 514 THE WORLD TO COME, plish will be performed by the second man, wblcli is Jesus Christ, and when it shall be sung, " How excellent is thy name in all the earth \" Secondly, the state of man after death. The idea im- pressed on man by natural religion is, that he is under govern- ment. There is (1.) a law prescribed to him ; and (2.) a God who upholds that law ; then (3.) a consciousness of having broken that law ; and (4.) a fear of punishment to be inflicted by the God whom he has oflfended. These four great truths of natural religion point to a fifth — that there is to be a final judgment. Every man feels as if he had, at the end of his earthly career, to appear before his Governor, and as if there was to be a reckoning at the close of the day of life. The time and manner of the judgment are unknown, but the judgment itself and the law are so far revealed. There is a feeling of this kind — originating in deep internal principles, and strengthened by the observation of the instances of retribution in the providence of God — haunting mankind all throughout their life, and com- ing on them, impressively, at a dying hour. This we hold to be the grand central feeling of mankind, in reference to the world to come ; it is an expectation, or rather an apprehension, of a day of reckoning. Such a day of accounts evidently implies a future world and a separate state. This, if we do not mistake, is by far the strongest argument for a future life. We believe it to be the one which, in fact, carries conviction to the minds of men. It is an argument which, like that in behalf of the existence of God, looks to various pheno- mena, internal and external, but these, in the one case as in the other, pointing to one conclusion. Let it be observed, that we are not stating the argument in the common form, and maintaining that there is injustice in this world, which must be rectified in the next. We are not willing to allow that any one has a right to complain of injustice. There is in this world a government complete, so far as it goes, but not consummated. It is complete in this sense, that it is in exact adaptation to the character of man ; but the character of man and the Divine administration in its reference to it, alike point to an ulterior conclusion, towards which all things tend. We see the process begun, but not ended — the progress, but not the termination ; and we expect, at the close of the passage THE WORLD TO COME. 615 of life, to find a throne of judgment set, and an impartial judge seated upon it. This is the argument which, whether they are able to state it Dr no, does carry conviction to the minds of mankind, and makes the belief in a future state so prevalent. It is an argument sufficient to make man feel his responsibility ; for it reveals the law, and makes known the judge. We doubt much whether there be any other in favour of a future world, which can stand a sifting examination, when viewed as an independent argument. Yet when we have found such a firm basis in the government oi God, other considerations worthy of being weighed come under our notice, and have all more or less of force. There i.-^, for instance, the consciousness that the soul is not the body, and may not die with the body ; nay, there is the feeling that it is so far independent of the body, that as it remains entire in the midst of the struggles of bodily dissolution, so it may remain entire when these struggles are ended. Socrates expressed this, when, in answer to the inquiry of his disciples, as to what they were to do with him after he was dead, he sportively remarked, " Just as you please ; if only you can catch me, and I do not escape you."* Again, there is the shrinking from annihilation, and the strong tendency to believe in immortality. This feeling cannot arise from a longing after a continued enjoyment beyond the grave, for, alas ! the anticipation has in it fully as much of fear as of hope. It seems to us to be a native belief springing from principles planted in our minds by him who made us. Not perhaps that is simple, original, or unaccountable ; a number of separate intuitions seem to conspire to produce and strengthen it, and chiefly those derived from the sense of accountability, and the consciousness of spiritual personality. Still it may be regarded as a native feeling, and looks very much like an antici- pation Vhicli guarantees a realization. These arguments seem to us to have considerable force, which cannot be said of others that have been adduced. There is pro- bably not a more sublime scene out of Scripture than that in which Socrates is represented as conversing with his disciples, on the day of his death, on the subject of the immortality of the soul. But much as we admire the conduct of Socrates on the occasion referred to, we are doubtful whether all the arguments * Plato's Phsedo, 147. 516 THE WOKLD TO COME. employed by him are conclusive. That the soul existed before it came into the body, and will therefore exist after it leaves the body ; that as life implies death, so death must imply life ; these are arguments suited to the dialectic intellect of the Greeks, but scarcely fitted to work conviction in a doubting mind. The Girondist philosophers, on the evening before their execution, tried hard to be persuaded by them ; but it is evident that there were deep anxieties preying on their minds,* from which they could have been relieved only by turning to the death followed by the resurrection of One infinitely greater than Socrates. That it is this belief in a coming judgment which is the deepest natural feeling, is evident from the conceptions enter- tained of the future world in the popular superstitions. The doctrine of the transmigration of souls appears in the earliest superstitions of the world, and has been entertained in all later ages by the most widely-difi'used forms of heathenism. Accord- ing to it, the soul, as a punishment, passes after death from one animal body to another. The Egyptians placed a searching judgment-day, conducted by Osiris, on the foreground of all their representations. The Greeks had a Minos and Ehada- raanthus as judges in the region of the dead, and placed there the stone of Sisyphus, the sieve-drawing of Danaides, and the wheel of Ixion. The other world, in the common conceptions of mankind, has been the place of Shades, and has always had a Tartarus as well as an Elysium. That the Governor of the world must call his creatures into Judgment, this we believe to be a natural sentiment ; but all beyond this, in relation to the state of the other world, comes from perverted tradition, from the fables of the priesthood, or the dreams of the wayward spirit of man — always excepting what comes from revelation. Here again we find that revealed religion meets the felt wants of natural religion. When revelation draws aside the veil which separates this world from the other, we see, in exact accordance with our natural convictions, a throne of judgment. And the Bible gives certainty to what is but a dim anticipation ; it is Christ that brings life and immortality to light. He does more ; he shows how sinful man may come to that judgment-seat to be acquitted, and loDk forward to it without fear. The whole com- * See Lamartine's Girondists, vol. iii. THE "WORLD TO COME. 517 plex feeling with which man naturally regards the world to come is one of apprehension rather than of hope ; it is a world of darkness rather than of light. Nor do we know any way by wliich these fears can be effectually dispelled but by the rays which the Sun of Righteousness sheds on the darkness of death and the sepulchre. Natural religion has been described by one party as a mere negation, or a mere syllabus of wants. By another party it has been represented as furnishing the basis to revealed religion. There is some truth, but there is more error, in each of these representations. Natural religion is not a mere negation ; it gives a God and a government, and it anticipates a future day of retribution. We do not assert that in lands enjoying the light of Christianity, the idea of Grod is suggested by the works of nature ; for it is obvious that in fact it is called forth in the minds of children by parents or guardians who appeal to God's word as well as his works. Nor do we mean to affirm that, in order to a rational belief in the Word of God, it is necessary that the Christian should have before him an argument in be- half of the existence and the government of God formally drawn out. But we are convinced that there are native intui- tions in the mind, and palpable order and adaptation in the world, which constrain men to believe in a God, and help to lead them on to a reasonable belief in the Word as a revelation of his will ; and farther, that it is of moment to have certain great truths of natural religion placed on a stable basis, in order thereby to have a ground-work on which to proceed in construct- ing a systematic defence of Christianity. The instincts of nature thus prepare us to believe in the revelations of heaven ; and a scientific Natural Theology furnishes certain starting principles to Apologetic Theology. Thus far Natural Religion gives some- thing positive. But then all its positive truths only remind man more impressively of what he needs. Its queries are far more instructive than its answers to them. It is of little use to any, unless it lead on to its true complement — to that sublime system of revelation in which all its wants are met and satisfied. The principal office of natural religion should be, to point to Him who is the True Light If it does not aim to accom- plish this end, if it comes between any and that light, it may 518 THE WORLD TO COME. rather be pernicious. When it has succeeded in this, it may then disappear with its proofs and processes, and allow the eye to rest immediately on God. Such a treatise as this, if blessed from above, may be a finger-post to direct the inquirer — pos- sihly the wanderer — in the right way, but when it has fultilled this office, it should be lost sight of, as he goes on to the experimental knowledge and enjoyment of Him who alone can enlighten and satisfy the soiiL APPENDIX 0^ FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES. Art. I.— logical NATURE OF THE THEISTIC ARGUMENT. (Page 8 op Text.) TTe are not entitled to denoand of every one who believes in the being of a God, that he sliould be able to give an analysis of the argument vhich has convinced him. Every logician is prepared to acknowledge, that to have a reason for our conviction is one thing, and to be able to develop it is a different thing. It is by a spontaneous process that the mind is led to believe in the existence of God ; to Btate the argument in regular form is the business of natural theology as a science. In fulfilling its full office, this science should unfold certain external facts, and also certain internal principles. In this country, for an .age or two prior to the middle of the present century, it was chiefly employed in bringing out the external element, and has furnished a beautiful exhibition of the adaptation of parts to be found in the universe. In another department of this same external evidence much less was done. The ancients argued the existence of God, not only from the adaptation but from the order of the universe. This branch of proof must come once more into prominence io consequence of the late discoveries in natural history, in regard to the homologies and homotypes found in the vegetable and animal structures (see pp. 120-120). The argument will be strengthened, when it is taken, as it can now be, from Combined Ouder asd Adaptation. (See p. 158, and also "Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation.") But what is it which entitles ti3 to rise from these facts to the belief in God ? In answering this question we are led to discover, that in a full statement of the argument it is needful to enunciate certain intuitive principles. This circumstance, however, should not be urged to show that a statement of the traces of design is useless, for it is upon the external facts that the intuition proceeds, and it is when these are before the mind that the intuition is called into exercise, and produces the conviction. More doubters have been convinced by Paley, than by all the elaborate works on the metaphysics of the argument. Still, in a professedly complete exhibition of the process, the internal principles should be enunciated. There is unfortunately not an absolute .agreement among metaphysicians as to what these are — which disagreement of the analysis ia by no means to be urged as an argument against the reality of the principles them- ■slvea. Soma, maintain that we have an immediate consciousness of God, or an 520 APPENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PPvINCIPLES. intuitive belief in Him. Otliers have supposed tliat there are certain intuitive principles which, proceeding upon external facts, lead to a conviction of the exist- ence of God. To this latter view we give our adherence. There are in the world numberless traces of effects, of effects of design, and the intuitive principle of causation constrains us to look for a cause in a designing mind. This does not make the argument apodictic or demonstrative ; it contains an experimental as well as an intuitive element. Still the truth is one of the very highest moral certainty, such, &s Coleridge remarks, as it is "little less than impossible not to believe — only indeed just so much short of impossible as to leave some room for the will and the moral election, and to keep it a truth of religion, and the possible subject of a commandment." The external facts are so obvious, and the intei'nal principles work so spontaneously, that man may be said, if not intuitively, at least naturally, to believe in the existence of a God. All this, we acknowledge, does not prove that God is infinite, or that he js morally good. The evidence for these perfections is derived from our intuitive convictions regarding infinity (see p. 534), and regarding moral good (see pp. 9 and 333) ; both however proceeding on a previous convictioa of the existence of a God possessed of indefinite power and intelligence. It has been far too readily granted, not only by German but by British metaphy- sicians and divines, that Kant has for ever cut up by the roots the usual theistic arguments. These arguments are classified by him as, first, the Ontological, or that derived from the very idea of the infinite, the perfect in the mind ; second, the Cosmological, or that which infers from the world as a bare existence to the ex- istence of Absolute Being ; and third, the Physico-Theological, or that from traces of design. "VVe have no partiality for the two first; but we maintain that the third is conclusive when properly stated, and that it can be fully vindicated. Kant was precluded from acknowledging the validity of this argument, because he had given a defective and utterly erroneous view of causation, making it point to no objective existence, a mere form in the mind, and not a law of things. But when we take the proper view of the law of causation, when we look upon it as declaring that cause has an objective reality in the nature of things, and ever resides in a sub- stance, then it entitles us to rise from the effects in nature to a power in a being above nature (see Art. III. and IV.) It is all true, as Kant urges, that this does not prove that God is infinite, but it proves that he is a living intelligent being, possessed of indefinite power; and this allows our intuition as to infinity to clothe him with infinite attributes. The late Sir William Hamilton, notwithstanding his having stood up so re- solutely for the validity of the principles of common sense, has allowed himself, aa it appears to us, to fall in far to implicitly with Kant, when he gives to our con- victions a merely subjective reality. He agrees with Kant in representing cause and effect (as also space and time) as laws of thought and not of things (see Discus- sions in Philosophy, pp. 607-624, 2d edition). He farther represents our concep- tion of infinity as negative, and our conviction in regard to it as an impotency. With such a metaphysics it is impossible to construct an argument from man's intelligence in favour of the divine existence, and so we do not wonder to find him •agreeing with Kant, that " the only valid argument for the existence of God, or the immortality of the soul, rests on the grounds of man's moral nature" (Dis. p. 623). Comparing his philosophy of the Conditioned with that of the Absolute, as evolved in Germany, he says, " In one respect both coincide, for both agree that the know- kdge of nothing is the principle or result of all true philosophy ; ' Scire Nihil— studium quo nos laetamur utrique.' But the one doctrine, maintaining that the Nothing must yield everything, is a philosophic omniscience ; whereas the other, ox THE PROPERTIES OF MATTER. 521 holding that Nothing can yield nothing, is a philosophic nescience. In other words, the doctrine of the unconditioned is a philosophy confessing relative ignorance, but professing absolute knowledp;e ; wlillc tlie doctrine of the Conditioned is a philo- sophy professing relative knowledge, but confessing absolute ignorance" (p. G09). "With these views as to luunan nescience, and the inconclusivcnoss of the commou arguments In behalf of the Divine existence, we cannot coincide. We acknowledge that it is one good consequence of his philosophy that it shows "that no difficulty emerges in theology which had not previously emerged in piiilosophy " (p. 625). But his doctrine of relativity, more especially in its application to cause and effect, really leaves us nothing by which to prove that God exists. We cannot see how even the moral argument remains if "good and bad" (Dis. p. 004) are subject, as they must be, to tiie same all-sweeping system of relativity and nescience. We will rejoice to find in bis posthumous works principles laid down sufficient to afford a proper basis to natural theology, the truths of which, firmly believed in by the deceased, are far more certain, as well as more sacred, than any philosophic speculations. Meanwhile, we feel constrained in these articles to utter our dissent from some of the principles laid down in the Discussions, but we do so, entertaining all the while the most profound respect for and gratitude to the great metaphysician who has lately been taken from us, after having done more for philo.sophy than any man of his as^e. Art. II.— on THE PROPERTIES OF MATTER.— (Pages 77 and 97.) Tlie quaUties of matter are, according to Locke, of three sorts, the primary, the secondary, ami those by which one body acts upon another. (Essay, B. ii. c. 8, J 8-10.) In the text we have treated solely of the third of these classes. Sir W. Hamilton has also a three-fold division. There are the primary, which are all evolved from two catholic conditions of matter, the occupying of space and the being contained in space. There are the secundo-primary, which have a relation to space and motion in space, are all contained under the category of resistance or pressure, and are three in number, co-attraction, repulsion, inertia. There are the pecondary, which belong to bodies only so far as they are thought to be capable oi specifically determining the various parts of our nervous apparatus. (Appendix to Keid, Note D.) These classifications are valuable mainly for metaphysical pur- poses, and are at best to be regarded as provisional. Physical science, and it alone, can settle some of the questions started, and it must advance several stages and tell us more of the correlation of forces, of polar action, of chemical affinity, of heat, electricity, and colonr, before we can have anything like even a seemingly adequate Classification of the prnperties of matter. All these arrangeii:i nts seem to us defective in this respect, that they omit, or at least do not explicitly include, power, active property, force, dynamical energy. It seems clear to us, that we cannot know material objects — that we cannot know our own organism or bodies out of it except as exercising property, that is, power. Just as we know matter in our primary cognitions as extended, so we also know it as exer- cising property. Active property then is entitled to be placed among the primary, or at least among the secundo-primary qualities of matter. In this respect physical science is far in advance of the metaphysics which still clings to the doctrine of Descartes, and represents matter as altogether pasarre, and its single fundamental 622 APPENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES. quality to be tlie occupation of space. The later disclosures of physics clearly provo that matter has a ivvxfiis. And yet the dynamical theory of matter is equally defective, inasmuch as it commonly omits the occupation of space, which is an equally essential attribute of matter, and inasmuch as it confines the activity of matter to force, whereas it seems to possess active properties of various kinds. In the midst of all the changes of material objects, there are two things that abide the substances abide, and the qualities abide. Allotropism may seem an exception. It is ascertained that two bodies possessing the same chemical com- position may exhibit very different properties. Thus common phosphorus is yellowish, pliable, soft, can hardly be handled with impunity, and assumes a par- ticular form when crystallized, whereas allotropic phosphorus is almost black, brittle, and hard, can be handled without danger, and assumes a crystalline form belonging to a different system. We are evidently not yet at the bottom of this subject. It is a more striking illustration than we ever had before of the fact, that the same substances may exist in different states, and that all properties need con- ditions to call them forth. We do not know in respect of what, the bodies, the same in chemical composition, differ from each other, whether in atomic disposition or difference produced by heat or other latent energy. But that the substances have not been transmuted, is evident from the circumstance, that the body changed from one state to a second can be brought back from the second to the first, when it exhibits the very same properties as it did before it was changed. For metaphysical purposes, the distinction of most moment is between our original and our acquired perceptions. We agree with Sir W. Hamilton in think- ing that our original perceptions are probably of our bodily frame, or of our organism and of bodies in contact with it ; all beyond this seems to be acquired. In all such perceptions there must be knowledge ; it is not a mere apprehension, idea, notion, or impression — none of these words express the mental act, but it is knowledge ; not abstract or general knowledge, but knowledge of individual objects in their concrete state. In the very perception of our organism we must know our bodies as extended, and we may add, as exercising active power. Our acquired knowledge proceeds upon this original knowledge, and becomes the knowledge of linear distance and of various kinds of active property. Now it appears to us, that the natural realist may lay down the principle that all our original principles are true, that is, that the thing corresponds to our apprehension, or rather knowledge of it. If he cannot prove this, he may at least defy disproof, and affirm that our intuition guarantees the reality. In adding acquired to our original perceptions, we lay down rules derived from experience, and come habitually to proceed upon them. These rules are of great use, and lead to no error in cases similar to those from which they were derived, but may land us in mistakes when extended to other cases. Thus we lay down the rule that when we feel ourselves to be at rest, and an image of an object moves over the retina of the eye, this object is in motion. This rule is correct enough while we are on land, but fails us when we are in a ship moving away from the shore, for it leads us to think that the shore is moving. If these views be correct, it is wrong to say that the senses deceive us, for our original perceptions do not deceive us ; when we are misled it is by an im- proper application of rules formed by ourselves ; and it is interesting to notice, that as it is experience which has led us to form the rules, so experience can determine the legitimate use and limits of them. It is a very important circumstance that the later discoveries of physical science go to shew that our senses, that is, our original perceptions, are trustworthy. Our ■enses seem to say that there is a reality (they do not say what) in heat, and the RELATION BETWEEN CAUSE AND EFFECT 523 »anie truth is now acknowledged in physical science, which affirms that the heat which came from the sun in the geological ccra of the coal measures, was absorbed by the plants, and is actually laid up in store in the coal-beds, and is ready to come out in our fires, and to produce or to constitute mechanical force. The main difficulty of natural realism arises from colour. Idealism has ever derived its chief argument from this phenomenon. In ancient times it argued from the crooked appearance of a stick in the water ; this difficulty is obviated by modern discovery, which shews that direction is not one of our original perceptions. It still argues that the eye adds colour which is not in the object. Yet surely in all this it is arguing from what is unknown, as if it were known. We know how the sensation of colour is produced in us, — it is by rays reflected from the object and falling on our organism ; but we know not what makes the object reflect rays, and reflect one ray rather than another, in short, we know not what colour in the object is. " Colour," says Cousin, (Review of Locke, Less, xxiii.,) " is perhaps more inherent in body than is com- monly believed." Speaking of this subject, the highest authority in our country on the subject of colour says, " It may perhaps be ultimately found that nature does not play the fool with our senses : but that the last accomplishments of science coincide with common apprehension." (Field's Chromatology, p. 6G.) We have shewn (p. 129) that colours are apt to come out in plants complementary to each other. There must be a physical cause of this general fact. May it not be that when the white beam falls on the plant, certain of the rays are reflected, whereas the others are absorbed, and are ready to come out on certain conditions being fulfilled, in much the same way as heat was absorbed by plants in the geological ages ? Thus when the white beam falls on the purple petals of a flower, the purple ray will be repelled on the principle of like repelling like, whereas the complementary yellow will be absorbed, and will come out in the yellow heart. This hypothesis supposes that there is some sort of reality (we do not say what) in colour, but is in no way inconsistent with the Newtonian theory, for it regards colour as discoverable by us only by means of the reflexion of light — only it assumes that there is a colour potency in the object, to reflect the like colour, according to the law of polar forces, that like repels like. But apart from this altogether, the idealist is not entitled to urge colour in defence of his theory, as long as we know so little of what makes bodies reflect rays, and one body to reflect one ray and another body a difierent ray. Art. III.— RELATION BETWEEN CAUSE AND EFFECT IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD.— (Page 81.) In offering some remarks on this subject, we are anxious that it should be under- ■tood that we are speaking solely of the nature of the relation between cause and effect, and not at .ill of the mental principle by which we come to discover that relation — of the objective relation, and not at all of the subjective idea. Manv errorB have arisen from confounding these two things ; and these errors appear again and again in the speculations of those who have derived their views directly or indirectly from the great German metaphysician Kant. Upon the latter, or the internal principle, the German school of philosophy has thrown some light ; but we are at present speaking of another topic which they have contrived to confiise — the real relation between cause and effect in the external world. 524 APPENDIX ON" FUNDAMENTAL PEINOIPLES. " Every effect has a cause," is the axiom ; hut the words cause and effect are ambiguous, particularly the word effect. The aphorism understood in one sense is a mere truism or identical proposition, and may mean nothing more than that every " effect," that is, ever}' phenomenon which has a phenomenon before it, has a phenomenon before it. But the proposition is more than a truism. What is meant by it ? What is the exact truth set forth ? Dr. T. Brown, following out and connecting the speculations of Hume, has proven to a demonstration, that there is and can be nothing intermediate between cause and effect. He has shown that cause and effect are joined as the links of a chain, coming into immediate contact, and with nothing between. In doing so, he has cleared away much cumbrous and confusing error — but has he established and clearly defined the positive truth ? With a mind of unequalled sharpness of edge, he could cut into parts that which others thought to be indivisible ; but it may be doubted whether that edge, through its excessive keenness, was not sometimes bent back when directed to certain solid matters, which require to be inspected and described rather than to be divided or analyzed.* He endeavours to prove that cause and effect have no other connexion than this — that the one is the invariable antecedent, and the other the invariable consequent. We believe that no one disputes the existence of the invariable sequence as at least one element in the relation. But it is not so universally acknowledged that there ia nothing else. Most persons, unable, as they acknowledge, to say where the defici- ency lies, have felt that the theory is bare and unsatisfactory ; and that, if it does not miss the truth, it does not at least give a full exhibition of it. It is possible that, in the theory under review, Dr. Brown may have got the truth, but not the whole truth. When we assert that every effect has a cause, so far as we do not play upon words, or utter a mere truism, we are affirming something in regard to existing things. We always rejoice to bring down abstractions to actual objects. When we do so, we feel that we have a surer footing to stand on. Let us come to existing things, and examine them with the view of determining what is really said of them, when we afSrm that every effect has a cause. Do we mean that every existing thing has a consequent, and every existing thing an antecedent, and both necessary, to use the old phraseology, or invariable, to use that of Brown? Does it mean that every existing thing (A) is succeeded by an existing thing (B), and that every existing thing (B) is preceded by an existing thing (A), and that this existing thing (A) will always be followed by the existing thing (B), and, vice versa, that this given existing thing (B) has always the same existing thing (A) before it? We doubt much if the mind is prepared at once to admit so broad an axiom as this, however expressed. Suppose there were nothing in the universe but some simple unformed substance, such as a piece of earth or metal, would it have been followed by something else — or could we, on the mere inspection of such a substance, have argued that there must have been something before it ? Dr. Brown gives a clear, and, as it appears to us, right answer to this question, when he says, " that matter, as an unformed mass existing without rela- tion of parts, could not of itself have suggested the notion of a Creator, since in 3very hypothesis something material or mental must have existed uncaused, and mere existence, therefore, is not necessarily a mark of previous causation, unless we take for granted an infinite series of causes," (Phil, of Hum, Mind, Lect. 92.) * The language of Seneca (De Benef.,) applied to Chrjslppus the Stoic, may be applied to Dr. Brovm — " Magnum mehercule virum, sed tamen Graecum, cujus acumen nimis tenue retunditiui •t in sc eaepe replicatur, «tiam cum agere aliquid pungit, non perforat." RELATION BETWEEN CAUSE AND EFFECT. 525 "Every effect has roj)crties. Again, in every effect there is a change or a new object. We are far from saying that Dr. Brown denies what we now state. There are passages in his work which show that he might have been driven to admit all that we now afErm ; but still we think that he has not fully brought out the whole truth. Had he done BO, we are convinced that his theory would have recommended itself more readily to the mind, because it would have been felt to accord with our cherished con- victions. Cousin has discovered what we now refer to, as existing in the causes which reside in the human mind. " The internal principle of causation, in developing itself in its acts, retains that which makes it the principle, and the cause, and is not absorbed in its effects."! l^"t he has not observed (because, like all who have become involved in the abstractions of Kant, he has fixed his attention too much • Note 0, p. 498. f Lc«on V. (Coun, 1828.) 626 APPENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PEINCIPLES. on the subjective) that the same remark is true of material substances ; and that, in producing their eifects, they retain the property which they exercised, and are ready anew to produce the same effects. Dr. Brown has shown, beyond the possibility of a refutation, that in the produc- tion of changes there is truly nothing but the substances that change and are changed. Mix them as we please, " the substances that exist in a train of pheno- mena are still, and must always be, the whole constituents of the train." * But he has not shown so fully as he might how much is implied in these substances. The German metaphysicians are right in affirming that power is implied in our very idea of substance ; and Dr. Brown, in one passage, admits, though casually, the same thing when he says, " All this regularity of succession is assumed in our very notion of substance as existing." f These philosophers might have farther affirmed, that there is power in the very nature of a eubstance as well as in our idea of it. This power, these properties of substances, are permanently in them, and ready to be exercised at all times. With the exception of those who deny the existence of an external world, all admit that properties are of an abiding nature, and constantly resident in the substance. We thus arrive at a power in nature, constant and per- manent, and ever ready to be exercised. We cannot, perhaps, speak of a cause as existing when not exercised ; but we can most assuredly speak of a power abiding, whether exercised or not — that power abiding in every substance that comes under our notice, and in the very nature of the substance itself, as it is' implied in the very idea of subslance.l Taking these views along with us, wc free ourselves from the impression left in reading such a work as that of Brown on Cause and Effect ; that impression being one of events proceeding in pairs or couples, the latter member of one couple form- ing the first member of the next. When we introduce substance and qualities, the idea of a chain is now got rid of, with all its offensive and misleading associations, and we find ourselves instead, in the heart of multiplied harmonies, requiring a divine skill in order to their maintenance, and exhibiting that skill in every department of God's works. The doctrine now expounded is fitted, we conceive, to clear up and strengthen the argument in behalf of the existence of God. The axiom, that every effect has a cause, stated in this loose form, seems to involve us in several difficulties in regard to the Theistic argument. The sceptic, proceeding upon it, would shut us up to the alternative — of affirming that every existence has a cause, and thence he would drive us to the conclusion, that God himself must have a cause, and that there is an infinite succession of causes ; or if we limit our assertion, and say that every existence has not a cause, it is immediately hinted that the M'orld may be uncaused. Now we have rid ourselves from the horns of this dilemma, by the view which we have given both of effect and of cause. An "effiict" involves something new; there is change implied in our very idea of it. It is in regard to such a phenome- non that we infer that it must have a cause — and such, every one admits, are all the plienomena in the world. We are warranted, then, to conclude, in regard to all * Brown on Cause and Effect, p. 29. t Ibid. p. 143. J Of all persons. Dr. Brown should be the readiest to grant this, as he supposes that substance is the mere co-existence of qualities ; and it follows, that if qualities were to cease, then substance would cease also. There are passages in which he seems to acknowledge all that we say in the text, as when he s-ays, " that subtances abide, and qualities abide ;" and that " qualities are just another name for the power of affecting other substances." (P. 142.) Yet, in direct contradiction, he affirms (p. 17C), "that power is not something latent that exists whether exercised or not— there is strictly no power that is not exerted." INTERNAL PRINCIPLE OF CAUSATION. 527 BTich phenomena, that they must have a cause. We thenco rise Ihrough a succes- sion of causes to the purpose of an intelligent Being. We are required to go no farther, according to the explanation of cause wliich wo have given. All power, we liave seen, resides in a substance, and we trace all the instances of contrivanco in the world to God, as a substance. Wc now rest in an unchanging spiritual Being, capable of producing all the effects which wo see in the universe. But to return to the subject discussed in the text, we find in the examination of material causes that they always imply two or more distinct bodies, as do also the effects. There is an inconceivable amount of confusion in the common conceptions on this subject. "Wlien a hammer is made to strike a stone and break it, the cause is not, as is commonly supposed, the stroke of the hammer, and the effect, the fracture of the stone. The cause, properly speaking, consists of the hammer and stone in a particular state and relation, and the effect, the hammer and stone in another state. These are the real invariable, antecedent, and consequent — the cause tied for ever to its effect. The cause always consists of a plurality of substances in a certain state, and the effect consists of the same substances in another state. In order to the action, or rather the existence of a cause, these substances must be in a certain relation, so as to admit of the operation of the powers or qualities residing in them ; and it is only when they exist in this relation, that the effect will be produced. K.B.—'FvQm the doctrine of the text, Book il. c. 1. sects, 1 and 2, and Appendix, arts. 2 and 3, there follows tlie great scientific truth lately established of the "conservation of force," that is, that the forces in our world are indestructible, and ever the same in amount. This must be, if the tuhstances abide, and thdr forces abide. Our doctrine is also quite consistent with the modern one of the correlation of the physical forces. QcERT. — Does it not seem as if some of the laws of motion were but partial statements of more comprehensive laws ? A body continues in the state in which it is, whether of motion or of rest, for ever, unless operated upon ab contra. Is not this but a part of the more general law, that matter is inert, in regard to all its properties, till operated upon by something foreign to itself ? Is not the second law of motion, that of action being equal to reaction, just a larger law seen under a particular aspect — this second larger law being the positive, and the other, before consid- ered, the negative? In order to the production of any effect, chemical as well as mechanical, there Is required the presence of two or more substances with their qualities, and in the production of the effects both bodies are changed, or rather the effect consists in the change made on tlie two bodies. That body which changes another is itself changed, and that which Is itself changed, changes that by which it is changed. Not only so, but the change in both bodies is of the same description— [this may be doubted]; — if chemical in the one, it is chemical in the other; if methanical in the one, it is mechanical in the other. May it not also be, that the change in the one is equal to the change in the other, and thus the law of action and reaction may be extended to the exercise of every property of matter? If so, might not this extensive law be employed to explain some of the curious phenomena of chemical equivalents, and of the polar forces, in which it will he found that action iu tlje particles of matter is always opposed by an equal reaction? The more we reflect on the subject, we are the more convinced that what are called polar forces are just the manifestation of the reciprocal action of two bodies on each other Abt. IV.— internal principle of causation. (Page 113.) The correspondence traced in the text, proceeds on the doctrine that the belief in the relation of Cause and Effect is intuitive. This has been the catholic creed of metaphysicians. All science seems ultimately to rest on first truths or fundamental 528 APPENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PKINCIPLES. principles not derived from experience, but rather laws of intelligence enabling us to gather experience. Among these, the principle of causation deserves to be placed. It bears the marks of intuitive truth. First, it is necessary. But the most length- ened experience cannot give this necessity. However long Sirius may have pre- ceded the heat of summer, we would not look on the connexion as necessary, — we can easily conceive the two to be severed. But we cannot be made to believe that there is an effect without a cause ; that the heat would come without a power to produce it. IVIr. J. S. Mill, indeed, tells us, (Logic, B. iii. c. xxi. § 1,) that he can " find no diflSculty in conceiving, that in some one of the many firmaments into which sidereal astronomy now divides the universe, events may succeed one another at random without any fixed law. Nor can any thing in our experience, or in our mental nature, constitute a sufficient, or indeed any reason, for believing that this is nowhere the case." This statement about fixed laws is ambiguous. If by fixed law be meant simply order, and uniformity among physical events, the statement is true. But if meant to signify an event without a cause, material or mental, natural or supernatural, the statement is contradicted by our " mental nature," which impels us to seek for a cause of every event. He is right in affirming that " experience" cannot authorize such a belief; but it is just as certain that our "mental nature" constrains us to entertain it — and surely if there be laws in physical nature, there may also be trustworthy laws in our mental nature. Mr. Mill has improved the account given by Brown, of the relation between cause and efiect ; he says, it is not enough that it should be invariable, it must be unconditional. We accept the phrase ; the mind looks upon the relation as unconditional ; and when it notites an effect, looks for an unconditional cause. Secondly, the belief is universal, — that is, all men spontaneously act upon it. Mr. Mill tells us that it is arrived at by induc- tion, from a simple enumeration of cases, that it was late in the history of the world before it was established, and that even now we are not entitled to receive it " as a law of the universe, but of that portion of it only which is within the range of our means of observation, with a reasonable degree of extension to adjacent cases." • (§ 5.) Now, all this is true of the mere order, general law, or uniformity of nature. Our belief in it is simply the result of experience; it was long before men enter- tained it, and we should be prepared to acknowledge that there may be exceptions, nay, we have such exceptions attested in the creation of new species of animals, and in the miracles of Scripture. But this is not the case with our belief in the rela- tion of cause and effect ; the infant acts upon it as well as the mature man, the savage as confidently as the civilized, and when men saw no natural, they called in a supernatural cause ; and even now we call in the fiat of God to account for the creation of new species of organisms, and the miracles of the Word of God. (Sea pp. 114, 15G.) The following is the account which we are inclined to give of the causal judgment. We cannot, as it appears to us, know any substance, except as possessing power. We cannot, for example, know self, except as active, as a potency. Nay, we cannot know material objects except as active. In our primitive knowledge of our bodily frames, we know them not only as extended, but exercising active property. (See Art. II.) A considerable amount of the very highest authority might be quoted in behalf of the doctrine, that power is implied in substance. It is the expressed doc- trine of Leibnitz, who says, that acting force is inherent in all substance, and that this is true of substances called corporeal, as well as of spiritual substances. (Do primal philoBopb.Laa emendatione et notione substantia;.) Kant admits the doctrine, without being able to follow it out. " Where there is Action, consequently activity »nd force, there also is substance ; and in this last alone must the seat of that fruit- INTERNAL PRINCIPI-E OF CAUSATION. 529 ful source of pbcnomena be found." (Analogies and Experience in Kiilik, Hay- wood's Titinslation, p. 1G7.) It is a fundamental principle of Ulrici, a living Ger- man metaphysician. (See Das Grundprincip der Pbilos. und System der Logik.) Tt is a maxim all but universally acknowledged, tliat wc know substances by tbeir properties ; but what are properties but particular kinds of powers? Power being thus one element in our primary concrete cognition of objects, we are led to believe that substances operate, and that all operations must proceed from powers in a sub- stance. Wo have in Article VI. given what we regard as the correct psychological genesis of some of the more important intuitive principles. It will be seen from the account there given, that we regard the Simple Cognitive Faculties as cognizing Substance and Quality in the concrete. Proceeding upon this knowledge, we havo a faculty leading us upon an effect, being brought under our notice to look for a cause, and vice versa. Substance and Property are given primarily in simple cog- nition, and Cause and Effect in a necessary judgment proceeding on this cognition. Substance and Property are thus the groundwork of Causation, both in themselves and in regard to our apprehension of them. We regard Sir W. Hamilton's representation of Causation as defective, and his resolution of it into a wide principle of relativity, or law of the conditioned, as a failure. "The phenomenon is this : — When aware of a new appearance, we are unable to conceive that therein has originated any new existence, and are therefore con- strained to think that what now appears under a new form, had previously an exist- ence under others." (Discussions, p. 685.) With all deference, this is not the mental phenomenon. Our appeal lies to consciousness ; and it seems to us to inti- mate, that on a new fact (not appearance) presenting itself, the mind seeks, not necessarily for the same thing or existence under another form, but for some thing or substance previously existing having power to produce the effect. It may find the power in the same existence, but it may also find it in another existence. He tells us, " that when an object is given, we are unable to think it non-existent — to think it away — to annihilate it in thought." (P. 591.) " We are compelled to be- lieve that the object, (that is, the certain quale and quantum of existence,) whose phsenomenal rise iuto existence we have witnessed, did really exist prior to this rise under other forms. But to say that a thing previously existed under different forms, is only to say in other words that a thing had causes." (Pp. 593, 591.) Carrying out this view to its legitimate consequences, he affirms, " We think the causes to contain all that is contained in the effect ; the effect to contain nothing but what is contained in the causes. Each is the sum of the other." (P. 585.) There is surely an oversight here. This account of the mental thought or belief, is all too narrow and inadequate. We acknowledge that as an empirical observation, we ever find new material forms springing out of the same existences under a different form. But this empirical observation is not the intuitive principle. The pantheistic doc- trine, which derives existence in any one mode, from the same existence in another mode, is founded on the exclusive observation of material phenomena, arid does not proceed on the principles of reason or intuition. Let us conceive a soul springing into existence. Do we necessarily look upon it as an emanation, and derive it from the same existence in another form ? What we seek, if we interpret our conscious- ness aright, is power to produce it, and this we may find in quite another existence. Wc can also conceive of the creation of an atom or a world, and what the mind de- mands is not an evolution of the one or other out of the same existences, but of a power in a substance, — say God, to produce the effect. Holding Sir W. Hamilton's representation of the mental phenomenon to be radically defective, we reckon his resolution of it into the law of relativity as unsatisfactory. He derives it not from a 2L 530 APrENDIX ON FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES. " positive poioer," but a " negative impotence,'' not from a '^ particular force " but a " ge7ieral imbeciliti/." (P. 594.) No wonder, when such is his view of causation, that he cannot derive an argument in behalf of the Divine existence from human intelli- gence. The xery differentia of causation is left out in a system which represents it as an incapacity to conceive that observation should cease when we have traced effects as far as our observation can reach ; it is a belief that there is a something beyond to produce the effect that last meets our view. We are strongly of opinion, that the mental principle is not an impotency, but a potency, not an inability to conceive that absolutely new existences should spring into being, but a necessary thought, conviction, or belief, that should they arise, they must have proceeded from an existence — a substance with power to produce them. This is with us an in- tuitive principle, constraining belief in the first instance, and ever confirmed by ex- perience. It declares that when the effect is real, the cause must also be real, and is quite sufficient to entitle us to rise from the effects in nature, to a power in an existence above nature. But this Being above nature, bears no marks of being an effect, our intuition rests satisfied, and goes back no farther. Wc can thus meet the objection urged with great logical power by Kant. (An- tinomies of Pure Reason in Kritik.) " Causality of the cause is thus ever again something that happens and renders necessary your regressvs to a still higher cause, consequently the prolongation of the series of phenomena a parte prio7-i unceaa- ingly." In enlarging on this topic, he breaks forth into a passage of grim eloquence. " We cannot guard against the thought, j'et, also, we cannot bear it, that a Being which we represent to ourselves as the highest among all possible, should say, as it were to itself, — ' I am from Eternity to Eternity, besides me there is nothing except that which is something merely by my will.' ' But whence am I then?' Here every thing sinks away under us, and the greatest perfection, like the smallest, floats without support from speculative reason." This objection derives its force from an erroneous apprehension, that is induction of causation. Proceeding not in an inductive, but a critical method, Kant has landed himself in contradictions, and ''tli£n charges the contradictions which are to be found only in his own representa- •fions upon human reason.* He says, that proceeding on the principle of causation, there must be a regressus ad injiniium. It is at this point that we meet him. We hold that the intuition goes back to a substance in which power resides, but that on ■reaching this point it is satisfied. It may be questioned, indeed, whether that sub- stance or existence is not also an effect. If it be, the intuition again requires us to look for a cause in a power dwelling in some substance. But when we at last reach a substance which bears no traces of being an effect, we may stop, for the mind is satisfied. Kant himself announces truths, which, if prosecuted, might have led him to see this. He allows, as we have seen, that power implies substance. He farther states that substance and quality, unlike other categories, docs not require an infinite regressus. When we have found a power in the Divine Being adequate to produce, all the effects which we see in the universe, the regressus ceases. There is no contradiction then in the idea of a First Cau^e. We cannot stop till wo reach such a cause, or to use the old nomenclature, a self-sufficient power, a self- existent Being, or better still, " I am TitAT I am" ; but having reached this point the mind feels that it can rest. This is the true Absolute which the German spe- culatists are ever seeking and never finding. Our analysis of the internal prin- * It might be shewn that this holds true of all the Antinomies of Pure Reason adduced hy Kant. The contradiction lies in the representations given of them, and not in the principles themselves as they exist in our constitutions. When the native principles are carefully inducted and ezpresse*^ the contradiction disappear!. PRINCIPLES OF THE INDUCTIVE PHILOSOPHY. 531 ciple, tbus brings us to the same conclusion as that of the external relation, and leads us to trace up all the activity of the universe, to a Being who has Power in Himself. " Twice have I heard this, that power belongeth unto God." •Art. v.— the LIVING WRITERS WHO TREAT OF THE PRINCIPLES OF THE INDUCTIVE PIIILOSOPHY._(PAaE 105.) (1.) Sir John Herschcl's discourse on the study of Natural Philosophy is admir- able so far as it goes, but docs not profess to discuss the philosophic principles of the Inductive Sciences. (2.) We like the phrase by which M. Comte(see pp. 4, 105, 105, 240) designates his work. The Positive Philosophy, ami every one is constrained to admire his pene- trating intellect and his clear style. He professes to rear a philosophy of facts co-ordinated apart from abstractions, but he has overlooked a most important class of facts. He is willing to attend to the senses, but will not pay any regard to the conscicusnesB ; he assumes the existence of matter, but denies the existence of mind, except as a physiological process. He is the embodiment of the materialistic tendencies of his age and nation. He occupies very much the same position in this century as Hume did in the last, and Hobbes did in the previous one — differing, however, from them, as much as the nineteenth century difi'crs from the eighteenth and the seventeenth. In mathematics and various branches of natural philosophy he displays great clearness and shrewdness ; but, led by a spirit of haughty dogma- tism, as unphilosophical as it is often profane, he errs palpably and egregiously in supposing that these sciences exhaust the whole of existence that can fall undei our notice. According to his grand generalization, so lauded by his admirers, phi- losophy, in its early stages is theological, then metaphysical, and finally positive. In modem Europe it has reached, he supposes, this third stage — which is that of manhood — and so has superseded the two former stages of infancy and childhood, which have for ever passed away. This appears to us to be as rash a generalizatiou as ever was made by any German theorist. When scientific inquiry commenced, a great number of topics had to be discussed at one and the same time ; these were afterwards separated on the principle of the Division of Labour, which has acted as important a part in science, as in the advancement of national wealth. At first theology, metaphysics, and physics, and other sciences besides, were blended to- gether, and then they came to be treated apart. There is merit in •"'omte's classi- fication of the physical sciences, if not carried too far, as shewing bow certain sciences came before others ; but there may be sciences not only of matter but ot mind, such as Psychology, Logics, Ethics, Metaphysics, &c. It argues great nar- rowness of mind, to suppose, that any one of the separate sciences, or sets of sciences, is entitled to supersede the others. Theology may be made as positive a science as any branch of physics, and if mind exists — as consciousness declares — there may always be a positive psychological science. There should in every age be a theological, a metaphysical, and a physical philosophy. We should certainly like to see the other two made as positive as M. Comte has sought to make physical science. (3.) Exactly the counterpart, in every respect, of the positive philosophy are the two works ofWhewcIl on the History and the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, (see Review, pp. 107-111.) The great merit of the latter consists in showing that 532 APPENDIX ON FUNDAiMENTAL PKINCIPLES. tlie mind must bring with it certain Fundamental Ideas and Conceptions, (we would rather say capacities with principles involved io them,) in order to the inves- tigation of external nature. All physical research presupposes, he maintains, the possession of fundamental ideas, such as those of space, time, cause, outness of objects, and media of perception of secondary qualities, polarity, chemical composi tion and affinity, substance, likeness and natural affinity, means and ends, symmetry and vital powers. In following this course, he has done unspeakable service to modern science, which, in attending to the objective, has been much disposed to leave the subjective out of view. We are inclined to think, however, that he magnifies the subjective, in much the same way as Kant did, beyond what it ought to be. He seems to tliink that these ideas, in physical investigation, furnish laws which are not in nature itself. " Observed facts are connected so as to produce new truths, by superinducing upon them an idea." — (Aphorisms concerning Ideas, xi.) These ideas or capacities seem to us to be rather the means of enabling us to dis- cover what is in nature. Pie also errs by referring to a priori principles, not a few truths, evidently derived from observation. (4.) Worthy of being ranked with either of the two last, is the Treatise on Logic, by John S. Mill, (see pp. 81, 88, 10-4, 420.) In respect of the attention paid to the subjective, he ranks higher than M. Comte, but considerably lower than WLewell. He admits consciousness as a source of knowledge, but does not seem to us to have >-il, 345, 346 ; referred to, 408, nets. 546 INDEX. Chance, in what senses it may be allow- ed that there is such a thing, 190, 195. Channing, his views of the grandeur of human nature, 63. Chateaubriand, 53, 69, 200. Cicero, 3, 58, 184, 193, 199, 297, 464, 465. Civil Government, 235. Clarke, S., his theistic argument, 8, note; interpositions of God, 179; his view of virtue, 317, 318; his theistic argu- ment, 519. Coleridge, 52, 65, 72. Combe, the fallacies in his Constitution of Man, 187-189. Communion with God, 40-48, 497. Communists, 239. Complication of nature, 161-180. Comte, his atheistic argument refuted, 3, note; overlooks causes, 105, note; thinks that positive philosophy is tending to the discovery of one great principle, 131 ; phenomena arranged as they are more or less complicated, 164-168; notice of the religion pro- pounded by him in Politique Positive, 240 ; his opinion that the world could be improved, 258 ; general character of his philosophy, 531. Colour, as a principle of order, 116 ; colours of plants, 129, 130 ; nature of colour, 523. Concupiscence, when sinful, 311, 312. Condillac, 267, 533. Coniferae, morphology of, 122. Constitutional principles of mind, see Fundamental Principles. Contradiction, principle of, 278. CoiTclation of forces, 97. Cousin, a favourite maxim, 14; his view of beauty, 137, note; remark on consciousness, 262 ; view of the will, 267 ; Causation universal, but not reaching to will, 275, 276 ; view of fundamental principles, 293 ; of the moral faculty, 303, 304, 317 ; virtue implies volition, and desire not a moral act, 311; referred to, 408; view of the theistic argument, 519 ; of colour, 523 ; Causation, 525. Cudworth, 318. Cuvier, 72, 96, 119, 158. Dalton's law 108, 116. 108, 116. Davy, 196. De Maistre, 50. Dependence of man, 172-175, 218, 23«- 238. Derham, 3. Descartes, his theistic argument, 8, note, and 519 ; his view of matter, 77, 521. Dickie, his observations as to colours and forms of plants, 130, note, and 133, note. Diderot, 137, note. Eastern philosophy, 60. Eastern superstition, 50-52, 464. Edwards, Jon., connexion of God with works, 147 ; definition of motive, 272 ; notice of his views on freedom of will, 274, note; his view of virtue, 317 ; re. ferred to, 408 ; denies self-determin ■ ing power of will, 541. Emerson, 510. Emotions, 265, 266, 302-306,' 416, 423- 428. Egyptian mythology, 21, 49, 461, 516. Epicurean creed, 22, 42, 47, 147, 148, 288, 464. Faculties op Mind, scheme of, 263, 264, 532-534. Faith, 165, note, 266, 511. Family Ordinance, 235. Faraday, 89, 108. Ferrier, notice of his Institutes of Met» physic, 538, 539. Fichte, 458. Field on colour, 523. Final Cause, 3, 125, 158, 459, 51 9. Form as a principle of order, 115-128. Foster, 41, 384, 385, 444. Fourier, 239. Fresnel's undulatory theory, 108, 111. Fundamental principles operate spon- taneously, but must be inducted in INDEX. 547 order to reflex use of them, 290, 292- 295, 508, 519, 520, 528, 535, 538. Galileo, 108. Gei-man philosophy, 7, 12, 98, 131, 267, note, 314, note, 458-461, 507-512, 523, 535-537. Gibbon, 48, 53, 247, 252. Girondists, 516. Goethe, views of transformation of leaf, 120. Greatest happiness principle, 34, 308. Greek mythology, 21, 50, 51, 464, 516. Greek sophists, 58. Greg, 475. Grove, 97. Guizot, 48, 139, 217. Hall, R., 27, 189. Halyburton, 453. Hamilton, Sir William, 77, 273, 277 ; on fundamental principles, 293 ; notice of result of philosophy of the condi- tioned, 620; of his school, 521; re- view of his theory of causation, 529, 530 ; his view of consciousness, 533 ; of his the*y of relativity, 537, 542. Harris, 95- Hatred of sin, 314, 475. Hazlitt, 12. Heart, different faculties included in, 265. Hegel, 131, note, 458, 508. Helvetius, 411, 412. Hcrschel, Sir J., 4, note ; his anxiety to have the subject of general laws and causation cleared up, 76 ; his state- ment as to laws of nature heing quan- titative, 117, 118; his work on Na- tural Philosophy, 531. Hodge, Dr., 318. Homologies of animal frame, 122-120. Hooker, 144, 474. Howe, 69. Humholdt, 105, note, 118, 126; error as to cause of unity of Cosmos, 130, 131 ; 162. Home, 48, 53, 59, 60, (sceptical use of real facts); 70,note, 152, 217, 275, 258, 308, (error of his niilitarian theory) ; 436, 437, (perversions of con- science) ; 446, 524. Hutcheson, view of beauty, 137, note; of virtue, 309, 317,408. Idealibts, 77, 522, 523, 535, 538, 539- Immortality of the soul, 514-517. Indian superstition, 51. Induction; method of, applied to ethics, 289, 324; applied to metaphysics, 278, note, 508, 612, 520, 535. Infidelity, 48, 54. Infinite, idea of, 12, 520, 534. G44. Ionian school of philosophy, 130, 131. Jacobi sets feeling in opposition to the understanding, 265, 507. James, J. A., 435. Jesuits, 385. Jesus Christ, his atonement, 474-480; his life and character, 494-500, 505. Job's complaint, 41, 42. Joufii-oy, 267, 285, 311, 317, 408, 451. Justice, 313, 318, 364. Kaues, Lord, 283. Kant, 12, note: his antinomies, 278, note; fundamental principles, 292 ; his practical reason and categorical imperative, 297, 317, 318 ; referred to, 408, 507, 523 ; substance where action, 528 ; his antinomies and objections to a First Cause noticed, 531 ; error aa to consciousness, 533 ; fundamental error as to mind knowing only pheno- mena, 535-537. Kepler, his laws, 100, 107-110, 117 ; hii ideas as to order in world, 131. Lamartine, 53, 516. Laplace, his cosmogony, 94. Leaf of plant, 120, 121. Lcechman, 216. Leibnitz, 6, 70 ; activity of matter, 79 ; his Theodicce, 142 ; doctrino of jn- 2X 548 INDEX. established harmony, 172, note, 179 ; definition of motive, 273, note; opti- mism, 377, noie,- force in substance, 528. Leland, 453. Ijewes, 240, 439. Libertarians, 279, 280, 540. Lindley, 120. Xocke, den'.es intuitions in theory, but admits them in fact, 292 ; qualities of matter, 521; reflection as source of ideas, 533. "Love, analysis of, 313, 318, 320, 364. Lucretius, 163. Xjjcurgus, 235. .TMacaulat, defective views as to answer to prayer, 203, note; perversions of consdence, 438-440. Mackintosh, 8, 55, 281 ; fundamental principles, 293 ; notice of his resolu- tion of moral feelings into association of ideas, 301 ; refeired to, 408. Malthus, 31. Maurice, defective view of atonement, 475. M'Crie, 139. Means of grace, 501. Mechanical view of God, 18, 454-456. Mexican superstition, 49. Mill, James, 267. Mill, J. S., 81, (nature of cause); 88, note, 105, note, 195, note, 240, note; notice of his account of the belief in causation, 528 ; of the general charac- ter of his work, 532. Miller, H., 155, 412. Miracles, 113, 114, 156, 528. Mohammedanism, 58. Montesquieu, 48, 139. Morell, 12 ; review of his intuitional theology, 507-512. Morphology of plant, 119-122. Mosely, 123. Miiller on Sin, 377. . Mythic theory of gospel narratives, 506, note. Natural Theology, 17, 18, 23, 47, 449-454, 516-518, 521. Neander, 51, 508. Necessarians, 273, 280, 541. Neological critics, 53. Newton, Sir Isaac, 93, 100, 107, 110, 126, 152. Niebuhr, 5, 36, 249. Number, as a principle of order, 115-119. Oken, 123. Omens, 199-202. Order, principle of, 2, 115-138, 156, ncte, 158, 519. Organic life and organization, 97, 98. Outcasts of society, 242, 243. Owen, Dr. J., views as to will, 274, note; referred to, 408. Owen, Prof., views as to homologies of vertebrate skeleton, 123-125, 158. Owen, K., 239, 273. Paley, 3, 31. Pantheism, 15, 53, 54 ; view of Provi- dence, 207-215 ; opposed to funda- mental principles, 458461, 529. Pascal, 56, 65, 74. Payne, 267. Perceptions, original and acquired, 522 523. Peripatetics, 464. Persian religion, 21, Pharisees, 47. Philosophic theism, 465, 477, 485, 493, 506. Plagues, effect of, on character, 246, 247- Plant, order in structure of, 119-122. Plato, evil a limitation of the Divine power, 61 ; world, an animal, 98 ; views as to form and number, 128 ; as to order, 131 ; referred to, 509, 515 Pliny the elder, 67. Plurality of worlds, 154, note. Plutarch, 49 ; his treatise on supersti- tion, 207-215. Pope, criticism of hia view of Proyi- dence, 182, 183. Popery, 50, 51, 54. Prescott, 49. Prevost, 83, note. Price, nature of virtue, 307. INDEX. 549 Properties of matter, 77-84, 97, 521-523. Pythagorean views of number, 131. Superstition, 48-54, 192, 202 ; of Providence, 207-215. Ray, 3. EeiJ, Dr. T., statement of theistic argu- ment, 3 ; fundamental principles, 292 : account of moral powers, 317, 318 ; referred to, 408. Eeligious persecution, 381, 382. Relations among material objects, 88. Responsibility, scuso of, 42, 43, 63, 64, 321, 341, 400-402, 4G0, 476, 493, 514. Reynolds, 382, 393. Robertson, 48, 139. Rochefoucalt, 411, 412. Roland, Madame, 246, note. Roman Mythology, 49, 50, 54. Rousseau, 41, 53, 217, 306, 446,510. Tappa:? on the Will, 277. Taylor, Isaac, 164, 178, 193. Taylor, Jeremy, 426. Teleology, 125, 126, 158, 519. Theistic argument, 3-12, 519-521, 626, 527, 530. Thiers, 16, note, 52. Thomson's Castle of Indolence, 256. Thucydides' account of the plague, 246. Thugs, 22, 385. Time, as a principle of order, 115, 116, 133. Tucker, 179, 180. Turner, 199. Typical forms in nature and revelation. 158, note, 490, note. Sadducees, 42, 47. Sceptics, 58, 77. Schelling, 7, 131, note, 458. Schleiden, typical plant, 120. Sensational school, 267, 273. Sentimental view of God, 13, 14, 333, 456-458. Sevigne, 48. Shellev, 42, 378. Shenstone, 256. Simon, St., 239. Sin, 341, 354, 365, 377, note, (origin of sin) ; 390-392, 409, 429. Smith, Adam, 139, 140, 253, 531, 437. 442. Socialism, 235, 239. Socrates, 2, 515. Spirit, Holy, 487,501, 502, 513. St. Ililaire, Geoffroy, 123. Stewart, D., fundamental principles, 292 ; the mor.il faculty, 317; virtue, 307, 408, 417. Stoic Philosophy, 22, 47, 200, (ticw of Providence) ; 288, 332, 464. Substance, 521-523, 527-529, 533. Ulrici, 529. Uncertainty of human life as an instru- ment of government, 237. Uniformity of nature, 114, 143-145, 156, 174, 175, 528. Yestioes op Creation, 85. Vinet, 15, 46, 391, 408, 410. Volney, 58. Voltair«, 48, 53, 378. "Wardlaw's Christian Ethics noticed, 408, note. Wayland, 318, note. WhewcU, 92 ; review of his philosophy of the inductive sciences, 107-111 ; re- ferred to, 140 ; fundamental principles, 233 ; character of his philosophy, 531, 532. Xesophanes, 22. YouKo's undulatory theory, 108, 111. ^!&&^i>MM: -}}!^ ■''^'f-lif-^. ~ ••;^-';;V' m '0i§m^ mmt ^(^^•^ ^f^m f^'i: ■.^^.Vrr 1: mmmmmm. iSSii^S MmkMm mm