A
TREATISE ON THEISM,
AND ON THE
MIODERN SKEPTICAL THEORIES.
BY
FRANCIS WHARTON,
AUTHOR OF "A TREATISE ON AMERICAN CRIMINAL LAW;" "A TREATISE ON TIHE AMERICAN
LAW OF HOMICIDE;";"A TREATISE ON MEDICAL JURISPRUDENCE;" "STATE
TRIALS OF THE UNITED STATES,'" ETC.; AND PROFESSOR
IN KENYON COLLEGE, OHIO.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT  &  CO.
TRUiBNER & CO., LONDON.
1859. 
Entered. according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
Ill the Clerk's Oflice of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District
of Pennsylvania.
AM BXCHANQI,
iAN 24 1l9( 
PREFACE.
MY OBJECT, in the preparation of the following work, has been
to present the theistic argument, and the replies to the prominent
modern skeptical theories, in such a shape as the best to impress
the American mind of the present day. I have sought to reach
this object in three ways:-Fbrst, by selecting from the vast
material before me such main topics as seem most likely to affect
those whom I address; second, by relying almost  exclusively
on this country as the basis for induction and illustration; and,
third, by reducing the argument to such an analysis as will best
subserve the purposes of students.
F. W.
GA.IBIERa, OHIo, April, 185o9.
I
-0
I,' I I il I        -tl
' 
4
I 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
BOOK 1I.
EVIDENCE OF THE EXISTENCE AND CHARACTER
OF GOD.
CHAPTER I.
r Ro lI  CONSCIENCE.
a. The existence of God as a lawgiver inferred from the ex       istence of conscience................................................
a'. From conscience as to self, ~ 1..................................
bl. From conscience as to others, ~ 3..............................
cl. From conscience as to abstract right and wrong, ~ 4......
b. The existence of God as an unconditioned executive, punish       ing the violators of Ihis law, inferred from the qualities of
conscience...............................................................
aI. From its action......................................................
a2. Incessant, ~ 5..................................................
b2. Unconditioned by time, ~ 7...............................
c2 Unconditioned by matter, ~ 12.............................
a3. From the nature of conscience itself, ~ 13.......
b3. From analogy............................................
a4. Recalled impressions,   14.....................
b4. Dreaming, ~ 15....................................
c4. Insanity, ~ 16......................................
d4. Comatose state, ~ 17..............................
e4. Lust, ~ 21............................................
bl. From the spiritual consequences of a violation of con           science, e.g. remorse, ~ 22.....................................
cl. From the physical consequences of a violation of con           science,    260......................................................
PAGE
13
13
15
16
5
16
16
16
18
25
25
25
25
26
28
28
33
35
42
J* 
ANALYTICAL TABLE
CHIIAPTER II.
FROMI MIND.
PAGE
47
48
a. The nature of mind, ~ 29................................................
b. The cause of mind, ~ 30.................................................
CHAPTERP  III.
FROMI THIE EXISTENCE OF LAW IN THE UNIVERSE.
a. Unity and harmony of pattern, ~ 32................................. 51
b. Union of harmony in general laws, with special adaptations
of details, ~ 350........................................................ 56
CHAPTER IV.
FROMI MATTER.
a. Universal belief in some eternal existence, ~ 41.................. 64
b. The atheist's eternity equally objectionable with the the       ist's, ~ 42............................................................... 64
c. Incomprehensibility of eternity not conclusive, ~ 43............. 65
d. Desolateness of a godless universe, ~ 44............................ 66
CHAPTER V.
FROM DESIGN IN NATURE.
a. The ocean..................................................................
a1. The sea-breeze, i 46..............................................
bl. The ocean salts, ~ 47...............................................
cl. The Gulf-Stream, ~ 49..............................................
b. Climate.......................................................................
a'. Its alternations as producing contentment and patriot           ism, ~ 52............................................................
bl. As producing home virtues, ~ 53................................
cl. As necessitating labor, ~ 55......................................
d'1. As generating energy, patience, and sense of the beauti           ful,  56............................................................
c. Watering the earth, ~ 60.................................................
d. Soil,  68....................................................................
e. Fuel, ~ 70.....................................................................
CHAPTER VI. -
FROSI THE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY.
a. Arts and sciences, ~ 72............................... 113
b. Reproduction, ~ 74......................................................... 115
c. Written history, ~ 75...................................................... 115
6
70
70
70
73
80
80
81
87
89
93
105
108 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
CHAPTER VII.
FROMI GEOLOGY.
PAGE
a. Anterior uninhabitability of the earth, ~ 77.........................
b. Subsequent creation of specific forms of life......................
al. Mlan, ~ 78.........................................;...................
bl. Inferior animals, ~ 79.............................................
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELATIONS OF GOD AND -IAN AS DETERNIINED BY NATURAL
THEOLOGY.
ia. Propositions established in the preceding chapters, ~ 85....... 131
a'. That there is an all-powerful God who seeks the plea          sure of His creatures, ~ 85..............................  131
61. That this God is sovereign, directing everything by His
will,  85............................................................ 131
cl. That He governs by general laws, i 85........................ 131
d1. That besides this He has placed in each breast a moral
tribunal, armed with powerful sanctions, for the pur          pose of directing right and prohibiting wrong,? 85.... 131
b. Propositions apparently contradictory induced from the same
phenomena, ~ 86................................................ 131
a1. That what appear gratuitous pain and sorrow are often
inflicted on the animal creation, ~ 8      6....................... 131
bl. That man is endowed with freedom of will and action,
which, however, he frequently perverts to his own
ruin,   86........................................................... 131
cl. That human conduct is to a great degree affected by
what are called "accidents," i.e. events not to be ac          counted for by any general law, ~ 86....................... 131
c. Reconciliation of these apparent contradictions, ~ 87............ 132
a1. The attempt to reconcile them by the hypothesis of an
imperfect Creator illogical, ~ 87............................. 132
61. They may be reconciled, however, by the following as          sumptions, ~ 9         1............................................ 134
a2. Man is in a state of exile from God, ~ 9 1................. 134
b2. The human heart, so far from maintaining a com              munion with God, is more and more inclined to
place its affections on things earthly, ~ 97............ 142
7
118
119
119
120 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
PAGE
c2. There is a future retribution which demands that the
free agency of those subject to it should remain
unimpaired, while there are such general influ       ences about them as will promote patience, sub      mission, and earnest endeavor, ~ 98................. 143
d2 These disciplinary influences, however, are insuffi       cient without special Divine aid, ~ 99............... 144
e2. A written revelation as a final educationary pro      cess, is a priori probable under such a dispen      sation, ~ 100............................................... 145
BOOK II.
SKEPTICAL THIEORIES.
CHAPTER I.
" AN IMPERFECT CREATOt."
Inability of the finite to measure, ~ 102............................. 152
Incapacity of the infinite for measurement, ~ 105................ 156
Supposing, however, apparently irreconcilable contradictions
and imperfections exist, ~ 108.................................... 161
a1. They cannot overcome the positive evidence of Almighty
wisdom and goodness, ~ 108.................................. 161
bl. They are reconcilable with the Divine perfections, ~ 109, 162
a2. As necessary to moral agency, ~ 110.................... 163
b2. As ordained of God, as forming part of a scheme of
all others the best and most perfect, ~ 110......... 163
a3. Necessitarian view of moral evil, ~ 113........... 168
Objections:
. It renders human exertion useless, ~ 115.... 172
. It enthralls God himself, ~ 115................ 172
Lertarian view of moral evil, ~ 119.............. 178
b3. Lib
0bjectioils:
a4. It still traces sin to God, ~ 121............... 180
b4. It sequestrates omnipotence, ~ 122........... 181
C4. It aggravates man's impotence, ~ 123........ 181
d4. It conflicts with consciousness,   1   123......82
8
a.
b.
C. 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
?. Present approximation  of the two schools,
i 128................................................... s186
d. The mere fact of the apparent opposition of the
truths of Divine sovereignty and of human
responsibility, does not justify the rejection
of either the one or the other,  132........... 192
3. Incidental moral consequences of evil, ~ 133... 196
c  As the necessary incidents of limited creatures,
135......................................................... 198
(l3. By a graduated scale there is room for the exer                cise of charity and an interchange of favors,
136................................................... 199
b3. By such a scale the earth will be more
thoroughly populated and human comfort
best promoted,  138.............................. 201
c3. By such a scale a stimulus is afforded for enter                 prise and room for improvement, ~ 140....... 203
d3. What may to the human eye be a lower and in                 ferior scale of happiness, may to a higher
vision occupy a reversed position, 2 143...... 205
(11d. The defects and evils complained of are in many cases
productive of positive good,   14     5........................... 208
aC. Sorrow, i 145.................................................. 208
b2. Pain, 2P 148...................................................... 212
a3. It preserves identity, ~ 148.......................... 212
b3. It defends life, ~ 152.................................. 215
c3. It economizes strength, ~ 154........................ 216
d3. It is essential to the experience of pleasure,
157............................................... 219
c2. Death, i 159.................................................... 222
a3. In its existence, ~ 159................................. 222
b3. In its manner, ~ 166................................... 230
a'. Its unexpectedness, e 166...................... 230
b4. Its shape, 2 168.................................... 234
el. They are the incidents of an intermediate stage in a
series of progressive advances from chaos to final per      fection,, 173...................................................... 238
PAG(E 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
CHAPTER IT.
POSITIVISM.
a2. There is no evidence of primary Fetichism,. 186... 257
62. The character of human development affords a pre              sumption against Fetichism, ~ 194.................. 266
c2. Fetich-worship, such as it is claimed to be, exists at
the present day among people with whom poly              theism or pantheism once prevailed,  195......... 267
(2. Theology, Metaphysics, and Positivism, are often
coincident,  197.......................................... 269
e2. Fetichism, as it is called, is cotemporary, in non              Christian countries, with high metaphysical and
artistic culture, ~ 200.................................... 276
bl. Personal experience, 1203....................................... 280
Objectionis:
a2. Psychological, ~ 203........................................ 280
62. Statistical, 1 207.............................................. 284
cl. Organic structure, 1 208.......................................... 289
b.
b.
Objections:
a2. The phrenological analogy is a mere hypothesis,
209......................................................... 290
b2. The analogy is not sustained by biology, i 210....... 290
c2. The argument proves too much,? 211.................. 291
c. General considerations by which Positivism is to be met, ~ 212, 291
a1. The pushing back of first causes strengthens rather than
weakens the theistic argument, 1 212....................... 291
bl. No materials exist from which a system of positive laws,
as forming a Divine system of government, may be in          ferred, I 213..................................................... 292
c1 The subordination of human conduct to absolute law is
destructive of individuality,  216........................... 296
dL. The religious sanctions of Positivism are inadequate,
1220................................................................. 303
a2. In what these sanctions consist, 1 220.................. 303
62. Their inadequacy, I 222...................................  312
10 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
PAGE
cll. In destroying human liberty, ~ 222................ 312
b3. They substitute, for a faith which, if false, is
believed to be real, one which, if real, is be                     lieved to be false, ~ 228........................... 313
c3. They dwarf the human by degrading the di                     vine, ~ 224............................................ 314
d3. They establish an absolute hierarchy, of all
forms of government the most injurious,
225........................................... 314
(. Positivism as modified by Mr. Buckle, ~ 226.......................  315
CHAPTER III.
FATALISM.
a. A priori probability that the system which an all-wise and
all-powerful Governor would adopt for the moral educa       tion of creatures under probation, would be a mixed one
of general laws and special adaptations, ~ 230, (see ante,
3 80-33).................................................................  33880
a'. Proof of a special providence from God's constancy and
dignity, ~ 234...................................................... 335
h1. Proof of a special providence from God's fatherhood,? 235, 336
cl. Mian's universal sense, ~ 236..................................... 337
d'. Analogy of answer to prayer, which may be taken as an
extreme case of special providence, with other recog          nized effective agencies, ~ 237................................. 338
el. Hypotheses on which a special providence can be ex          plained, i 238................................................ 339
a2. By the assumption of a law based on angelic
agency, ~ 238............................................. 340
b2. By the prearrangement of the laws of nature, ~ 239, 342
c'2. By a special connection between prayer and result
as between cause and effect, ~ 240................... 345
d2. By pushing up the principle which governs the re                sults of prayer until it passes above the bound                ary by which human observation is limited, ~ 241, 346
CHAPTER IV.
PANTHEISM.
a. In what it consists, { 250................................................
a1. Material,  p250......................................................
bl. Ideal,    251...........................................................
11
362
362
363 
ANALYTICAL TABLE.
PAGE
b. Objections to it, ~ 252....................................................  366
a1. Its hopelessness, ~ 252............................................. 366
bl. Its comfortlessness, ~ 254......................................... 367
cl. Its repugnance to common sense, ~ 254....................... 368
d1. It destroys belief, not merely in a God, but in the practi          cal sequences of nature, and therefore generates habits,
not of energy and perseverance, but of dreamy mysti          cism and inaction, i 255....................................... 368
e1. It apotheosizes vice as well as virtue, i~ 256.................. 369
fL. It is inconsistent with the marks of purpose and con          trivance which we meet with throughout the uni          verse, ~ 259........................................................ 372
yl It involves the absurdity and the self-contradiction of in          telligence generated by matter, bringing us back again
to a first cause, which differs from that of the theist,
in that while the one makes God create matter, the
other makes matter create God,? 260...................... 373
CHAPTER V.
DEVELOPMENT.
a. In what the development theory consists, ~ 261.................. 874
a'. Cosmical, ~ 261...................................................... 374
bl. Organic, ~ 268....................................................... 381
b. General propositions by which this theory can be met, ~ 275, 390
a1. No progressive cosmical development,?4 275................. 390
bl. Premeditation preceded creation, P 276....................... 390
cl. New forms of life introduced at distinct periods, P 278.... 390
41. Advance sometimes broken by retrogression, ~ 278....... 390
el. The rudimental atoms themselves prove contrivance,
p279......................................... 391
fl. Creative care presumes preserving providence,? 280..... 392
g9. Physical forces, involving an intelligent director have at
distinct eras disturbed the globe, ~ 281.................... 392
'l. Distinct creations exhibit reciprocal adaptations, ~ 282... 892
il. Development makes "matter" create "mind," ~ 283...... 393
kL. It still leaves a first cause,. 284............................... 393
12 
BOOK FIRST.
EVIDENCE OF THE EXISTENCE AND
CHARACTER OF GOD.
CHAPTEEX I.
CONSCIENCE.
a. THE EXISTENCE  OF GOD AS A LAWGIVER  INFERRED
FROM THE EXISTENCE OF CONSCIENCE.
~ 1. a'. From conscience as to self.
Let us suppose a stranger from some distant land to be
dropped down at dusk on the suburbs of one of our great
cities. On the unfenced commons where he alights he observes pathways, at first sliglht and ungraded, gradually expanding into paved and leveled streets, and lights, beginning with the old-fashioned and dim lamp, and brightening,
as the city limits open, into the frequent and brilliant gas.
He sees many places of danger, it is true, but he finds a corresponding number of guards. At one point he hears the
snort of a locomotive dashing across the horizon, but precisely as there is a danger to human life from its approach,
~1                   2                    (13)
.  46.. 
CONSCIENCE PROVING GOD.
are precautions taken to make that danger less.  By the
country road a sign-post is planted.   As the road draws
nearer to the city, a sentry-box is placed at the juncture, by
which a watchman is stationed to give warning whenever a
train is due. So it is with respect to other dangers. In the
fields or ill the remote and sparse suburbs, a few constables
are enough to keep the peace. But in the midst of the
dense population which crowd toward the centre, the number
of gilt stars and printed badges show that the precautions
are multiplied as the dangers increase.   That quiet, unofficial-looking man, who may be lounging listlessly at one moment in the lobby, or at another looking intently at the stage,
is a special policeman, commissioned to be ready to spring
forward at the first alarm to extinguish those sparks which
the inflammable material collected at a theatre are so apt
to kindle into a conflagration.   Guards  are stationed  at
the outside of a mock-auction store, cautioning the unwary
against imposition.  Others are seen, whose directions are
to place a rope around a house on fire, so as to keep from it
the curious or idle, who may be crushed by the falling walls.
Others stand at depots or landings, watching the pickpocket,
who is himself watching his intended prey. And all unite in
proclaiming the one truth, which the traveler will not be
long in discovering-the existence of a city on the one side,
which is beset with many temptations and difficulties, and the
existence of a municipal government on the other, whose
office it is to resist these temptations and obviate these difficulties. The police prove both the gdvernmnent and the
temptations of that which is governed.
~ 2. The same proof is afforded by conscience. The self
14
~2 
CONSCIENCE AS TO OTHERS.
examiner is hardly able to take a turn in the recesses of his
own heart without meeting one or more of the deputies of
this indefatigable police magistrate.  Wherever there is moral danger, a watchman is posted. Sin may advance through
its subtlest approaches, but the watchful monitor is, nevertheless, ready to give warning.  The  stormiest gusts of
passion or of lust are preceded by their own special cautions.
Nor are these inward guardians lax in the discharge of their
duties.  It requires a long course of maltreatment to drive
them from their posts.  The experience of each one of us
will testify to this. We can all look back to the time when
we entered upon any particular course of sin to whose influence we may have ultimately succumbed. We recollect how
vehement were the remonstrances of conscience, and how
those remonstrances continued to be uttered in tones the
most piercing until the watchman was either expelled or our
ears became so hardened as to be unable to perceive his
cries.
~ 3. bl. From conscience as to others.
The police jurisdiction exercised by us over the conduct
and motives of others, affords the same presumption as that
exercised over ourselves. St. Paul incidentally draws an argument for the existence of conscience from this very quality.
"Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art
that judgest: for whereiiT thou judgest another, thou condeminest thyself."  In other words, the faculty of judgment
as to others implies a correspondent supreme governing
power.   Must not the Chief Magistrate, who constitutes
and directs all this mechanism, be, Himself necessarily a
judge?
15
~3 
CONSCIENCE INCESSANT,
~ 4. cl. Fron  conscience as to abstract right and wrong.
So it is with the opinions we are constantly forming as
to right and wrong. No man would take up a digest of
decisions without saying, as he opened it, and, as he observed proposition after proposition laid down as the principles of determinations in the past and the precedents for
adjudications in the future, without recognizing the existence of a law-promulging authority in the same way that
the decisions themselves prove the existence of one that is
law-applying.
b. THE EXISTENCE OF GOD AS AN UNCONDITIONED EXECUTIVE, PUNISHING THiE VIOLATORS OF HIS LAW, INFERRED
FROM THE QUALITIES OF CONSCIENCE.
a'. From its action.
a2. Incessant.
b2. Unconditioned bv time.
ce. Unconditioned by matter.
~ 5. a'. Conscience is incessant in its action.
We may be only conscious of that action at particular
moments, but, whenever the curtain which covers it is lifted,
we see its machinery, as we see that of a steamer when the
engine door is unclosed, moving with an activity none the
less incessant, from the fact that it had been unobserved.
The agencies by which this spectacle is uncovered, and
proof thus given of the incessant activity of conscience,
will be examined under a subsequent head. It is sufficient
here to advert to the effect of discovery of guilt by others
as recalling the consciousness of remorse in its pristine
vigor in the criminal himself, as well as to the similar effect
16
~ 4-5 
PROVING AN ETERNAL JUDGE.
produced by coming suddenly upon the spot where a crime
was committed, or by having any of the implements or incidents of that crime recalled.  Conscience, observed or unobserved, proceeds unceasingly in its task of pronouncing
and registering a decree of approval or condemnation on
each particular act.  This process of registry is in nowise
affected by its escaping our notice.
It is here that we find one of the chief retributive elements of conscience. It places the soul under recognizances
to keep the peace; and, on each violation, judgment is
entered for a specific penalty. WTe may not be conscious of
this, but the judgment is, nevertheless, entered, and proceeds to accumulate interest until the period of execution
arrives.
~ 6. That this process of judgment goes on even in reference to acts of mere carelessness, (and a forliori to acts of
positive guilt,) a slight observation will show. A locktender omits to fasten at night the gates of the lock.  The
next morning he finds that through an additional and unexpected force of water, the gate has been burst open, and the
boats lying in the basin injured.  A switch-tender on a railway, in like mannier, neglects his duty, and still more serious
consequences ensue.  A servant forgets to lock a hall-door,
and that very night thieves find their way in.  Now in each
of these cases the offender may be entirely unconscious at
the time of the wrongfulness of the negligence. The fact of
conscience condemning it entirely escapes him. But it is
otherwise when the evil result follows. This lifts the covering off the registry, and shows him that the act received its
specific judgment. Its moral condemnation was the result
2*
~ 6
17 
CONSCIENCE AIDED BY NATURE.
of its own inherent culpability, not of its consequences. It
was the consequences that unfolded the condemnation. They
did not create it.
~ 7. b2. From conscience as unconditioned by time.
What I propose now to show is, that time has no effect
in abating even the retrospective powers of conscience, but
that the sentence of condemnation, recorded on us by ourselves, although frequently lost sight of, continues in full
vigor, ready, whenever our attention to it is renewed, to be
recalled in sometimes increased distinctness. We turn suddenly upon the spot where a crime was committed, and the
judgment of conscience, condemning that crime, is revived
in its early terror. The inanimate creation, in fact, bears an
important part in furnishing the attesting witnesses to each
decree of condemnation. In one of the most splendid rhetorical passages that literature affords, St. Paul depicts all
creation waiting for the manifestation of the sons of God,
and, like some huge, and yet exquisitely and most sensitively constructed animal, straining itself on tip-toe, so as
to catch the first rays of that glory which is to release it
from its own bondage:  "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."
And, as creation will respond to and be united in the
future deliverance, so it bears witness to the present penalties for guilt. It may be years since we visited the spot of
a former crime, and that crime may have been long since ap
18
~7 
CREATION WITNESSING.
parently forgotten, but the scenery will at once reopen the
old remorse. Nor is the witnessing of nature purely mechanical. It is not necessary to do more than refer to Mr.
Babbage's theory of a future state, by which he makes one
of the chief agencies in the misery of the lost, in that awful
condition, to be the constant presence of an atmosphere
which combines, in an acute and eternal pressure, every idle
word spoken during this life of probation.  For, as he shows
us, the palpitation of the air, produced by the slightest
of sounds, though it may be, in the dullness of our present
senses, apparently lost, yet continues to swell and expand
in continually increasing circles, until that momentous period
when, by the infinitely sensitive perceptions, even infinitely
attenuated utterances are appreciable.
~ 8. But these witnesses speak for the present as well as
for the future. A very remarkable homicide trial, in one of
our Southwestern States, may illustrate my meaning in this
respect. A young man was riding a blooded mare, on his
way to a distant county, where he hoped to establish himself
and his newly-married wife. Hte was waylaid, and assassinated on the road, and his body so buried under a pile of
leaves that no traces of its sepulture were visible.  It so
happened that suspicion was turned to the real assassin,
from the fact that he was found in possession of the mare
the deceased had ridden. The arrest was made, and the accused, under charge of the sheriff, was carried to prison over
the very road near which the homicide was committed. As
they reached the spot, the mare, which was-ridden by one of
the officers, began to display unmistakable evidences of
terror, which increased or diminished as she approached or
~ 8
19 
CONSCIENCE SLEEPLESS.
receded from a given centre.  The attention of the party
was arrested, and an examination was commnenced, which led
to the discovery of the remains in the grave where they had
been deposited.  The attesting witnesses of creation, both
animate and inanimate, called forth into vehement and re
sponsive activity the direct evidence of conscience within
the breast of the prisoner himself. He quailed and shivered,
and blood and muscle, if not voice, confessed. The invisible
detective police of nature were called into action to enforce
the decrees of the great Chief Magistrate who presides over
the heart.
Even where direct association, such as that just described,
fails to recall the consciousness and the pangs of guilt, imagination creates the wanting link.  Goethe touches upon
this with his usual delicate accuracy, in that famous scene
where Faust and Mephistopheles visit the Hartz Mountain:
FAUST.
Seest thou not a pale,
Fair giri, standing alone, far, far away?
She drags herself now forwarf with slow steps,
And seems as if she moved with shackled feet:
I cannot overcom?e the tho?yht that she
Is like poor A[argaycriet.
AIEPIIISTOPHELES.
Let it be;-pass on:
No good can come of it,-it is not well
To meet it; it is an enchanted phantom,
A lifeless idol; with its numbing look
It freezes up the blood of man; and they
Who meet its ghastly stare are turned to stone,
Like those who saw Meduisa.
20
~ 8 
RETROSPECTIVE POWERS.
FAUsT.
Oh, too true!
IOfer eyes are like the eyes of a fresh corpse
Which no beloved hand lhas closed: alas!
That is the breast which Malrgaret yielded to me,
Those are the lovely limbs I once possessed!
MIEPHISTOPHELES.
It is all magic, poor d(leluded fool!
She looks to every one like his first love.
~ 9. We find, therefore, that our temporary unconsciousness of the action of conscience does not affect the permanency of its record. It may be, that at the time of committing a guilty act, we may, either through levity or
intoxication, not have paused to consider its quality.  That
quality, however, exists, and if the act produces consequences, they will ultimately arouse us to the judgment
pronounced on it. Nor is this peculiarity of conscience different from that of our other attributes. Dugald Stewart tells
us that in reading aloud there is a distinct act of volition for
every syllable, though probably if we had stopped to observe this volition, the process would have been suspended.
This is no more than we are led, by our ordinary experience,
to presume concerning conscience, whose action, accusing or
excusing, proceeds with equal certainty when observed or
unobserved.*
The action of memory gives us an additional analogy to
the  same  purpose.   Coleridge  mentions  a servant-girl,
*  A?te, I 5.
~ 9
21 
DEATH-BED MEMORIES.
who, in an attack of fever, recalled and uttered several
pages of Latin, which she had heard her master, a clergyman, read aloud when she was cleaning his study.
Dr. Adam Clarke tells us that, when near drowning, his
mnemory recalled, in a moment, all the scenes of past guilt.*
Like phenomena are often observed in dying, among which,
we may mention the case of Mr. Benton, whose eye, at
that final moment, turned back to the scene of his Tennessee
boyhood:
Coelumque
Adspicit, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.
~ 10. Similar to this, are the cases Dr. Rush mentions of
old Swedes, whom he attended at the Pennsylvania Hospital
during their last sickness, and who spoke Swedish when
dying, though, perhaps, they had not heard the language
for fifty or sixty years. So it was that Dr. Johnson, in his
last hours, passed from the sonorous cadences of those Latin
chants, in which his mighty spirit had so much delighted,
and was heard, by his attendants, muttering a child's hymn
which had been sung to him by his mother when in his
cradle.
A still more striking phenomenon is given in Wasianski's account of the death-bed of Kant.   That profound
philosopher, as we are told by the narrator, was afflicted most painfully, as his last hours approached, by
the ringing, in his ears, of melodies which, in his earliest
youth, he had heard in the streets of Konigsberg.  "These,"
Mr. Wasianski went on to say, "kept him awake to un
* See Dendy's Philosophy of Mystery, p. 390.
22
~ 10 
RESURRECTION OF CONSCIENCE.
seasonable hours; and often when, after long watching, he
had fallen asleep, however deep his sleep might be, it was
suddenly broken by terrific dreams, which alarmed him be yond description."
Mr. Rogers, in one of his  Greyson Letters, touches,
with great felicity, on the effect of association in recalling
affections which had  apparently long since been extin guished. A locket of hair, for instance, belonging to one
whom we may have loved and lost, will have the power, if
suddenly hit upon, of letting in once more upon the soul, in
overwhelming power, the waters of grief. We may suppose
that the affections which are thus resuscitated are now so
torpid and numb as to be incapable of any acute sensations.
We may even feel that we have reduced ourselves to a state
of stoical contentment; all at once comes the lock of hair,
accidentally discovered, perhaps in opening a secretary, and
we feel ourselves overwhelmed with the bitterest grief.
Mr. Webster, we are told, for some years kept near his
heart a little red-worsted sock, which he had taken from the
foot of a child he had lost in early infancy.  Perhaps this
showed how deep and tender were the home affections which
glowed under that iron breast.  Suppose, however, after a
long series of years had passed, that little sock had once
again crossed the eye of the great statesman, would it not
have told him a leading truth, namely, that memories may be
buried, but do not die; that affections and impulses, though
they be temporarily deadened, have yet immortal attributes,
and that, with the soul, of which they are a part, they continue to live forever, either as elements of peace or of
sorrow?
~ 10
23 
CONSCIENCE NOT MATERIAL.
We have a kindred illustration of the same truths in a
phenomenon which often accompanies the discovery of hidden guilt. A man may for years have concealed a crime,
until at last he may have ceased to be conscious of its enormity. Suddenly it is discovered. All at once his old sensation of misery and remorse return. It is not merely shame
at the discovery by his fellow-men, or fear of punishment;
he may feel these abundantly, and yet there will be, besides
them, an appreciable remorse; his old sense of guilt will revive, perhaps with all its former acuteness; he will then
learn the great truth that remorse as well as memory has a
substantive existence apart from the habits of thought and
volition.
~ 11. The nature of remorse itself, as it is more fully discussed under a coming head, involves the idea of perpetuity.
There can be no life-estate in remorse.  It has been urged,
as an objection to imprisonment for life as a punishment for
murder, that it will be no check to the worst kind of offenders, since they will go on murdering, ad infinitum, the
maximum of punishment being already reached, and there
being no additional penalty. This position applies, with infinitely increased power, to a life limitation of remorse, as
a moral discipline. The punishment can be avoided by
doubling the crime; the murderer may so ossify his heart by
drink, as to be incapable of even remembering his guilt.
The worldly and ambitious may go on, in round after round
of gayety or guilt, until remorse is choked by the very excess of occasion for it.  The necessities of remorse, as a
penal discipline, involve its continuance beyond the limits
of time.
24
~11 
ANALOGIES WITH MIND.
~ 12. c2. Conscience unconditioned by mlatter.
There is a great deal in our intellectual structure to establish, and nothing to dispute, the proposition that THERE
EXIST IN THE SOUL ELEMENTS, DERIVING THEIR TONE, IT IS
TRUE, FROM THE COURSE OF PROBATION, BUT CONTINUING
INDEPENDENTLY OF CORPOREAL CONDITIONS AND OF THE
SANCTION OF THE WILL.
~ 13. The proof of this proposition may be considered as
follows:  a3. Fromn the nature of conscience itself.
The sense of guilt, as has been observed, is arbitrarily recalled to the mind in full force by involuntary circumstances,
e.g. discovery, hitting upon the indices or scones of crime,
etc. As was shown in the last division, conscience, in its
general sense, is incessant and unlimited by time.  It acts
with equal energy under circumstances of bodily ease and
strength, and of bodily wretchedness and debility; in the
first conceptions of childhood, and in the last consciousness
of old age.  It is said to be a proof of the immortality of
the mind that the body can be cut away, piece by piece,
while the intellectual powers remain. But even when the
mind is destroyed the moral sense continues to operate.
b3. From analogy.
~ 14. a'. R?ecalled inmpressions. No thought, as may be
inferred from the phenomena stated above, is ever lost. The
recollection of the servant-girl just mentioned, those of dying
persons, those of drowning persons, serve to show, to adopt
the language of President Hitchcock, that thought "may
seem to ourselves to be gone, since we have no power to recall it. But numerous facts show that it needs only some
3
~ 12-14
25 
CONSCIENCE DEATHLESS.
change in our physical or intellectual condition to restore
the long-lost impression."*
~ 15. b4. Dreaming presents similar phenomena. An important Scotch lawsuit was depending upon the recovery
of papers which had been in existence fifty years back, but
the genuineness of which was disputed. The trial was about
to be abandoned, when a very aged man dreamed that they
would be found in an out-of-the-way parcel, which had entirely escaped notice.  There they were discovered.  There
was no divination in this.  Fifty years back, when a child,
the old man had seen these papers packed away in this parcel. No voluntary action on his part could recall the impression. It existed, however, to be brought to light by a
power outside of himself. It existed, to adopt an illustration already given, in the same way as the machinery of a
boat exists in which we may be gliding over the waters.
We lose the consciousness of the incessant, though quiet
action of the works by our side until, on passing the engine
door, it is opened, and we see the clean and smooth limbs of
the pistons gliding up and down in their giant base.
The demolition of space and time by dreams is a phenomenon with which we are all familiar. Dr. Abercrombie
tells us of a gentleman who dreamed that he had enlisted as
a soldier; that he had joined his regiment; that he had
deserted; was apprehended, and carried back to his regiment; was tried by a court-martial, condemned to be shot,
and led out for execution; at the moment of the completion of these ceremonies, the guns of the platoon were fired,
* Hitchcock's Lectures, p. 136.
26
~15 
ANALOGY FROM INSANITY.
and, at the report, he awoke. It was clear that a loud noise
in the adjoining room had both produced the dream, and,
almost at the moment, awoke the dreamer.
Lavalette, in his memoirs, mentions a procession that was
five hours in passing before his dreaming vision, accompanied with such a precise, though horrible measurement of
time, as to make its registry on the dreamer's mind indelible.
It so happened that he was able to time the dream by his
watch to be within ten minutes.*
* The evidence to be drawn from these phenomena of the imnmateriality of the soul has not been overlooked either by classical or
Christian antiquity.  In the Phwdo, Plato tells us that "the body is
the prison of the soul; that the soul, when it came from God, knew
all, but inclosed in the body, it forgets, and learns anew." Seneca
tells us, "Corpus hoc animi pondus est."  "I remember," says
Dendy, in his Philosophy of JIystery, from which the points, under
this head, are drawn, "in Fulgosius, a legend told by Saint Austin
to Enodius. There was a physician of Carthage, who was a skeptic
regarding the soul's immortality and the soul's separate existence.
It chanced one night that Genadius dreamed of a beautiful city. On
'he second night, the youth who had been his guide reappeared,
and asked if Genadius remembered him; he answered yes, and also
his dream.' And where,' said the apparition,' were you then lying?'
'In my bed, sleeping.''And, if your mind's eye, Genadius, surveyed a city, even while your body slept, may not this pure and active spirit still live, and observe, and remember, even though the
body may be shapeless or decayed within its sepulchre?'"
The same thought-the spiritual independence of the  soul-is
thus   beautifully given by Longfellow:                         His lifeless body lay
A worn-out fetter, that the soul
Had broken and cast away.
~ 15
2 
ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE
~ 16. cl. Insanity. Of the detachment of the mind from
corporeal conditions when in this state, we have an illustration, taken from a statement of Robert Hall, after his first
attack of mania,-"All my imagination has been overstretched. You, with the rest of my friends, tell me that I
was only seven weeks in confinement, and the date of the
year corresponds, so that I am bound to believe you, but
they have appeared to me like seven years. My mind was
so excited, and my imagination so lively and active, that
more ideas  passed through my mind than in any seven
years in my life.   Whatever 1 had attained from reading
or reflection was present to me."
The exemption of insane persons from many epidemic
diseases, and their insensibility to heat and cold, arise from
their attention being drawn from bodily suffering and external  influences.   "And  shall not  a  cultivated,  welldirected volition," agues, from this, Feuchtersleben, from his
skeptical stand-point, "have as much, nay, greater power,
than furious anger or the horrible energy of the insane?"
But may not the inference be more correctly stated to consist in the proposition, that the control of the body over the
soul is neither absolute nor perpetual?
~ 17. d4. Comatose state.   On this point we have the
following statement from Sir Benjamin Brodie:  "The mind may be in operation, although the suspension
of the sensibility of the nervous system, and of the influence
of volition over the muscles, destroys its connection with
the external world and prevents all communication with the
mind of others. It is indeed difficult to say when the external senses are completely and absolutely closed. I might
28
~ 16-17 
~ 18    ILLUSTRATED BY THE COMATOSE STATE.
refer to numerous facts, which have fallen under my observation, as illustrating this subject, but the following will be
sufficient:-An elderly lady had a stroke of apoplexy; she
lay motionless, and in what is called a state of stupor, and
no one doubted that she was dying; but, after the lapse of
three or four days, there were signs of amendment, and she
ultimately recovered.   After  her recovery, she explained
that she did not believe that she had been unconscious, or
even insensible, during any part of the attack.   She knew
her situation, and heard much of what was said by those
around her. Especially she recollected observations intimating that she would very soon be no more, but, at the
same time, she had felt satisfied that she would recover;
that she had no power of expressing what she felt, but that,
nevertheless, her feelings, instead of being painful, or in any
way distressing, had been agreeable rather than otherwise.
She described them as very peculiar; as if she were constantly mounting upward, and as something very different
from what she had before experienced."
"I have been curious to watch the state of dying persons
in this respect, and I am satisfied that, where an ordinary
observer would not for an instant doubt that the individual
is in a state of complete stupor, the mind is often active
even at the moment of death. A friend of mine, who had
been for many years the excellent chaplain of a large hospital, informed me that his still larger experience had led
him to the same conclusion."
~ 18. Sir Benjamin records the case of Dr. Wollaston,
which is a remarkable instance of this.
3*
29 
ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE
" His death was occasioned by a tumor of the brain, which,
after having attained a certain size, encroached on the cavities (or, as they are technically termed, the ventricles) of
the brain, and caused an effusion of the fluid into them, producing paralysis of one side of the body; and it is worthy
of notice, that certain symptoms which he had himself noted,
and as to the cause of which he had been in the habit of
speculating, proved that this organic disease must have existed from a very early period of his life, without interfering
with those scientific investigations which made him one of
the most eminent philosophers, and one of the greatest ornaments of the age in which he lived.  During his last illness his mental faculties were perfect, so that he dictated an
account of some scientific observations, which would have
been lost to the world otherwise.   Some time before his life
was finally extinguished, he was seen pale, as if there were
scarcely any circulation of blood going on, motionless, and,
to all appearance, in a state of complete insensibility; being in this condition, his friends, who were watching around
him, observed some motions of the hand which was not
affected by the paralysis.  After some time it occurred to
them that he wished to have a pencil and paper; these having been supplied, he contrived to write some figures in arithmetical progression, which, however imperfectly scrawled,
were yet sufficiently legible. It was supposed that he had
overheard some remarks respecting the state in which he
was, and that his object was to show that he possessed his
sensibility and consciousness.   Something like this occurred
some hours afterwards, and immediately before he died, but
the scrawl of these last moments was not to be deciphered."
30
~is 
~ 19    ILLUSTRATED BY THIE COMATOSE STATE.
To the same effect is a narrative of the Rev. Adam
Clarke. *
~ 19. The Rev. Wm. Tennent, a Presbyterian minister of
great eminence, and of the highest character for truth and simplicity, was attacked, when in his nineteenth year, by a lung
fever, of whose effects he apparently died.   "His body," to
adopt his own narration, as given to us by one of those to
whom he communicated it himself,t "was laid out in the
usual manner, in the back part of a room in one of the oldfashioned Dutch houses. On Monday morning, when they
went to put him in the coffin, a man by the name of Duncan, who was assisting, called out to the others to lay him
down, for he felt his heart beat, and was sure there was life
in him.  His brother Gilbert derided the assertion of Duncan, and, indeed, there was everythiing to induce a belief that
he was dead. The length of time that he had been sick,
his emaciated body, his black lips, his sunken eye,-all appearances were against remaining life. But, after this declaration of Duncan, it would not do to bury him, and the
funeral was postponed till Tuesday, when the people assembled for the burial. In the mean time, all means had been
used to restore life. They were again about to put the body
into the coffin, when again Duncan called out'Lay him
down, for I am sure there is life in him.'  No other person
believed there was life, and yet, so long as he retained this
opinion, they would not allow the funeral-service to proceed.
* Post, ~ 169.
I See Letter from General Cumming, 2 Sprague's Annals Am.
Pulp., p. 55.
31 
ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE
The funeral was again postponed until Wednesday, and the
means of restoring life meanwhile applied with the utmost
diligence and vigor.   At the time appointed, the people
again assembled, and the doctor was sitting on the bedside,
with a looking-glass in one hand and a feather in the other,
trying them alternately at his mouth and his nose. At the
very last moment, to the unspeakable surprise of all, he
opened his eyes, gazed at them, and swooned away for about
two hours."'
Mr. Tennent lived to the age of seventy-two, and led a
life remarkable for its integrity and purity. During the
whole of this life he maintained that, while in this state of
apparent suspended animation, his spirit was in a condition
of vivid and beatified consciousness.*
~ 20. We may be permitted to add a well-authenticated
American case. A gentleman, in a state of suspended animation, was given over by his family as dead, and was subjected to the usual preparations for burial.  lIe fortunately
was restored to active conciousness, and, as soon as he could
express himself, detailed the acute horror with which he had
watched, without the power of resistance, the successive arrangements made for his sepulture.
To the same point is the following statement, made by one
of the companions of the late Dr. Kane:-" The soul can
lift the body out of its boots, sir. When our captain was
dying,-I say dying, I have seen scurvy enough to know,every old scar in his body was a running ulcer. If conscience
* See, for a full narration, Dr. Sprague's Annals,  etc. vol. ii.
p. 52.
32
~ 20 
ILLUSTRATED BY LUST.
festers under its wounds correspondingly, hell is not hard to
understand.   I never saw a case so bad that either lived or
died. Men die of it usually long before they are so ill as he
was. There was trouble aboard; there might be mutiny.
So soon as the breath was out of his body, we might be at
each other's throats. I felt that he owed even the repose of
dying to the service. I went down to his bunk, and shouted
in his ear,'Mutiny, captain, mutiny!' He shook off the
cadaveric stupor.'Let me up,' he said,'and order these
fellows before me.' He heard the complaint, ordered punishment, and, from that hour, convalesced. Keep that man
awake with danger, and he wouldn't die of anything until
his duty was done."
~ 21. e4. Lust. A very striking case, which may fall under
this head, is reported as having lately occurred in a Paris hospital.  A man, notorious as a miser, was announced by the
nurse in attendance as dead. In the next cot lay a pickpocket, who had been quietly waiting for the moment when
he could crawl up to his intended prey and empty his gorged
pockets. It was midnight, and the ward was deserted of
its attendants, when suddenly an unearthly shriek was heard.
The nurses rushed to the spot, and found the dead man, with
his long-nailed fingers fixed through the thief's neck. The
miser, apparently insensible, had felt the thief approach.
The ruling passion of avarice was still raging, with unabated fury, within his almost lifeless frame. Outside of that
frame it was about to rage through all eternity, torturing
and tortured. But now, by one of those violent nervous
efforts which prove so remarkably the ascendency of mind
over body, the deserted frame was once more convulsed by
33
~ 21 
ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE
the return of this unearthly lust.  It was but for a moment,
and then the miser and the thief fell lifeless to the ground.*
Colonel Chartres may be taken as a type of that class of
cases in which lust survives the bodily mechanism through
which it worked, and in which it was incased. Of immense
wealth and of aristocratic connection every effort was turned
to the gratification of animal passion. Even in his old age,
his body burned to a cinder, the fire of passion continued
unabated.   Utterly impotent in body, he pursued the shadow of the same lusts with the same energy with which he
had once pursued their substance.  At last, a scheme was
laid to entrap him, which resulted in his prosecution for rape.
Hle was tried, convicted, and executed, though it afterwards
appeared that there was perjury as to the overt act. Swift's
epitaph is well worthy of study, not only for its fierce eloquence but for its psychological truth:
HERE continueth to rot
the body of
FRANCIS CHARTRES,
Who, with an INFLEXIBLE CONSTANCY and
INIMITABLE UNIFORMtITY of life, PERSISTED, in spite of
AGE and INFIRMITIES, in the practice of EVERY HUMAN VICE,
Excepting PRODIGALITY and HiYPOCRISY:
His insatiable AVARICE exempted him from the first,
His matchless IMPUDENCE from the second.
Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his nzanners,
Than successful in accumulatiny WEALTH: for, without
X See an article in the Episcopal Review for July, 18o58, by the
present writer, from which a portion of the remarks in the text are
drawn.
34
~21 
ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE.
TRADE or PROFESSION, without trust of
PUBLIC MIONEY, and without
BRIBE-WORTHY SERVICE, he acquired,
Or more properly created, a
MINISTERIAL ESTATE.
Ile was the only person of his time who could CHEAT without
The mask of HONESTY, retain his primeval MEANNESS
When possessed of ten thousaind a year;
And, having daily deserved the
GIBBET for what he did,
Was at last condemned to it for what he couteld not do.
0 indignant reader!
Think not his life useless to mankind!
PROVIDENCE connived at his execrable designs,
To give to after-ages a conspicuous
PROOF and EXAMPLE
Of how small estimation is EXORBITANT
WEALTH in the sight of GOD, by
His bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of
ALL MORTALS.
~ 22. b1. The existence of God as an eternal executive,
punishing violators of His law, inferred from the spiritual
consequences of a violation of conscience.
Under this head it will be sufficient to mention remorse.
Poets have rivaled psychologists in depicting the punitive
power of this passion, but neither have been able to equal
truth. Shakspeare's keenness of perception and energy of
expression have come near to it, in the passage where the
death of Cardinal Beaufort is described:
~ 22
35 
ETERNITY OF CONSCIENCE.
SCENE-Cardinal's Bed-chamber
Enter KING HENRY, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.
h7. Hen. How fares my lord?  Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. I-[en. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
When death's approach is seen so terrible!
TVar. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?O! torture me no more; I will confess.Alive again? Then show me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.He hath no eyes; the dust hath blinded them.Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. len. 0, thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
0, beat away the busy, meddling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!
VWar. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!
Sal. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.
K. Ilen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hopeHe dies, and makes no sign.  0, God, forgive him!
taw. So bad a death argues a monstrous'life.
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.
36'
~ 22 
POWER OF REMORSE.
Dr. Beecher, some years back, gave a sketch of a remarkable visit paid by him to the Pennsylvania Hospital for the
Insane.   lie observed  a man, then advancing in years,
standing before him, frozen apparently to the ground.   "I
asked who that was, so fixed, the image of despair. It was
the son of Dr. Rush, (of revolutionary memory,) and, ill
the dreadful hour of revenge and pride, he had killed a fellow-man in a duel.  There he stood, like a pillar.  Sometimes he would apparently wake up to recollection; he
would pace off the distance, and give the word,'fire!' Then
he would cry out,'he is dead! he is dead!'"  It may be
added, that the quarrel was one between two friends, then
scarcely past their boyhood; that the difficulty was about a
mere trifle, but was carried on, and consummrnated in hot
blood; and that, from that period to a gray old age, the
survivor continued to react, with all the sincerity of despair,
the awful scene of the duel.*
~ 23. Nor do these retributions confine themselves to
what are commonly called crimes.  Remorse may follow
levity as well as overt guilt; neglect as well as positive
wrong. Nowhere, not even in the pages of Puritan theology, is this more vividly and splendidly illustrated than in
the following lines of a poet, than whom no one is more distinguished for the denunciation and ridicule of what he
called religious cant. A lady, who lived in luxurious ease
and inaction, thus speaks of the vision of a dream:
* Ahs to tlhe illinmitable attributes of mind, see pos,, ~ 29.
4
37
~  2 — 
CONSCIENCE
For the blind and the cripple were there, and the babe that pined
for bread;
And the houseless man, and the widow poor, who begged-to bury
the dead!
The naked, alas! that I might have clad, the famished I might have
fed!
Each pleading look, that long ago I scanned with a heedless eye,
Each face was gazing as plainly then as when I passed it by;
Woe, woe for me, if the past should be thus present when I die!
No need of sulphurous lake, no need of fiery coal,
But only that crowd of human kind, that wanted pity and doleIn everlasting retrospect-will wring my sinful soul!
Alas! I have walked through life, too heedless where I trod;
Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm, and fill the burial sod,
Forgetting that even the sparrow falls not unmarked of God!
I drank the richest draughts, and ate whatever was goodFish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit,, supplied my hungry mood;
But I never remembered the wretched ones that starve for want of
food!
I dressed as the noble dress, in cloth of silver and gold,
With silk, and satin, and costly furs, in many an ample fold;
But I never remembered the naked limbs that froze with winter's
cold;
The wounds I might have healed! the human sorrow and smart!
And yet it, never was in my soul to play so ill a part;
Bitt evil is wrought by want of thouqht, as well as want of heart!
~ 24. Schiirmayer, not the least accurate of recent German writers on Forensic Medicine,* thus speaks: "Remorse
* Schiirmayer, Gericht. Med., 2 519.
38
~ 24 
ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE.
often affects the mind so powerfully as to approach the appearance of insanity.  The smothered self-reproach of the
criminal sometimes expresses itself in the shape of deep
dejection, and sometimes in that of petulance and irritability.
Almost every defendant who is guilty will be seen to lapse,
at least periodically, into a deep reverie, with the eyes staring in vacancy.   The most consummate villains alone are
exempt from such feelings.  Criminals generally endeavor
to suppress the voice of conscience because they fear to be
betrayed by it.  But this very action is perfectly legible in
their faces, gestures, and general bodily condition.  Under
these circumstances the qualms of conscience frequently assume the appearance of disease.  The accused, particularly
if in confinement, does not sleep at night for weeks, and
consequently looks pale and haggard, loses his appetite, and
speaks with hesitation, and sometimes with trembling. When
this condition reaches a point of great intensity, the guilty
is visited by visions and hallucinations; avenging angels appear to him, or evil spirits, phantoms, or the shades of the
dead and injured."
~ 25. What is called irritability, rising as it sometimes
does to oikeiomnaia or domestic insanity,* may fall under
this head. " I would much rather," says a keen observer, " expect a kind office from one who has previously done me a kindness than from one to whom such a kindness has been done."
In other words, the very act of beneficence generates an evenness of temper, which, while it smooths the way for a continued flow of the same impulses, gives additional composure
* See Whliarton anJ St'116, Med. Jur. ~ 204.
~ 25
39 
40  IVINE JUSTICE
and peace to the mind itself. In this view irritation is the retribution of petty social wvroings, appl)roaching insanity as those
wrongs amount to crimes.  Psychological researches in recent days show that it is on the perpetrator, much  more
than upon the victim of great domestic wrongs, that the
shock resulting from their commission falls.  It is true that
hearths are often desolated by the approach of that crime
which makes innocence the cherished prey of lust. It is true
that in cases, both far more numerous and far more subtle in
their consequences, the unsubdued passions, or the perverse
and perverting temper of a father or mother, a husband or
a wife, may make a home wretched, may hurry the funeral
to the door to carry to her first resting-place one who had
been crushed by a system of wearying oppression or tantalizing wrong; or may drive into desperation those whom it
would have required but a few kind words to have kept
around the fireside in peace and sobriety.  It is true, also,
that the affections are often engaged by a system of attentions which the world may call innocent, but which, whether
the result of design or levity, succeed in making desolate a
heart which otherwise might have ripened into that full matronly beauty,-a beauty which nothing in nature can equal,
-which the golden harvest of a loved and cherished womanhlood presents. All these are common words in the world's
mouth.   So familiar are they, that when the ear hears or the
eye catches the first word or two bearing upon them, it at
once flits away, conscious that it knows all that is going to
be said already, and rests upon some niore congenial topic
of meditation. But there is a counterpart to this, which is
less known.  It is, that it is the wrong-doer who receives, in
40
~ 25 
ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE.
his own person, in double virulence, the poison which he injects into the system of others. The vitals of the oppressor
are consumed by a torture which, being slower, is more exquisite than that which is inflicted on the oppressed. We have
a very pregnant illustration of this in a late statement by one
of the most eminent and experienced of the present London
psychological physicians.   "Marital unkindness," says Dr.
Mayavo, "is subversive of soundness of mind in the person on
whom it is exercised; and exercised it is in a thousand ways
in this country without violence being had recourse to.'The
state of the law,' as Mr. Dickens well observes, and terrifically proves,'is unprotective of wives.' But the mischief
is not unavenged; and here the case of the husband's retribution commences.  Many men are living in a state of continuous and exhausting remorse, under the consciousness that
this system of torture is being carried on by them. For when
once the habit is formed, they can neither shake it off nor
bear their self-consciousness under it.
Culparn poena premnit comes.
"I need not speak of their retrospects, if they should outlive the object of their tyranny."
It is here, as recent developments have enabled us to determine, is to be found the secret of that phrensied remorse
which marked the last days of Jonathan Swift. Others have
been pointed out as the victims of the heartlessness which
led him to trifle with the affections which he had won. But
the most conspicuous victim was himself. Alternating between howling mania and paralyzing despair, the desolate
close of his life is a fitting memorial of the truth that there
4*
~ 25
41 
DIVINE JUSTICE
is a retribution attached as much to wrongs done to the affections of others, as to wrongs done to their persons or
property.
I may be permitted to close this topic with the following
passage from a sketch given by the late Dr. Parrish, of Philadelphia-a very reliable witness-of the last hours of
John Randolph:  "A napkin was called for, and placed by John over his
breast. For a short time he lay perfectly quiet, with his eyes
closed.  He suddenly roused up and exclaimed-' Remorse!
Remorse!'  It was thrice repeated-the last time at the top
of his voice, with great agitation.  He cried out-' Let me
see the word.   Get a dictionary;  let me see the word.'
' There is none in the room, sir.''Write it down then-let
me see the word.' The doctor picked up one of his cards,
'Randolph of Roanoke.''Shall I write it on this card?'
'Yes, nothing more proper.' The word remorse was then
written in pencil.  Hle took the card in a hurried manner,
and fastened his eyes on it with great intensity.'Write it
on the back,' he exclaimed. It was so done and handed him
again. He was extremely agitated-' Remorse! you have no
idea what it is; you can form no idea of it whatever; it has
contributed to bring me to my present situation. But I have
looked to the Lord Jesus Christ, and hope I have obtained
pardon. Now, let John take your pencil and draw a line
under the word;' which was accordingly done.'What am
I to do with the card?' inquired the doctor.'Put it in your
pocket-take care of it-when I am dead look at it.'"*
~ 26. cl. The existence of God as an eternal executive,
* Garland's Life of Randolph, p. 373.
42
~ 26 
ILLUSTRATED BY REMORSE.
punishing the violators of His law, inferred fron the phY/sical consequences of a violation of conscience.
Let us go, for instance, to Augustus the Strong, of Saxony, and observe in him in early life the "maximum of physical strength: can break horseshoes, nay, halfcrowns, with
finger and thumb;"* of superb beauty, and possessor of two
crowns. Meet him again when in the prime of manhood,
and you see him bloated and putrid. A life of eminent dissipation has broken a constitution of eminent strength. So
it is everywhere. We are placed, in fact, under recognizances to obey the decrees of conscience, and our bodies become our bail. If the bond is broken, the bail is seized upon
and made to pay the forfeit.  Nor is it bodily strength alone
that is thus taken in execution. Nervous power, intellectual
integrity, simplicity of heart, even lustre of genius, all these
are in like manner sacrificed as penalties. Byron, Burns,
Mlirabeau-themselves desolating and desolated-lead us,
in the agonized confession of their early though self-destroyed manhood, to the same truth of the organic connection between spiritual and physical demoralization.
Nor does the penalty stop here. The finer and more generous capacities of the heart become in like manner involved.
The susceptibility for innocent joys-of all susceptibilities
the finest-is lost.  Burns speaks with a sad truth on this
point:
I waive the q'iantum of the sin,
The hazard of concealing,
Bult oh! it hardens all within
And petrifies Ithe feelilng.
* Carlyle, Fred. II. vol. 1, p. 148.
~ 26
43 
DIVINE JUSTICE
Take also that adaptation of society by which (1) approval
and respect, utterly distinct from that  subserviency which
waits upon fortune, are paid to integrity even when in chains
and penury, while, () as part of the same system, distrust and
dislike attend selfishness.   i Here we have an additional evidence of the extent to which Providence presses and shores
up by auxiliary sanctions this main pillar of conscience;
and consequently here we find an additional proof of the
contrivance exhibited in this great moral engine. "The upright man is trusted, and has a thousand means of advancing
his interest 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.'"*
~ 27. Taking these phenomena in connection with those
mentioned in a former section, they give the materials for an
induction by no means incomplete, in reference to the character of the divine agent by whom this complicated machine
is constructed and kept in motion.  It is as if we saw sentinels posted on the parapets of a besieged fort to repel invaders, to preserve discipline and repress mutinies among
the besieged, and to repair works which have crumbled by
time or broken under assault.  Comparative anatomists, we
are told, are able to complete, from a single bone, the entire
structure of what may be an extinct animal. The work before us is not so difficult. We have far more abundant materials to complete the structure than those which human
sagacity considers sufficient to solve a temporal problem. It
is well for us, therefore, to pause and contemplate the temple
* MIcCoshl on Div. Govt., p. 326.
44
~ 27 
ILLUSTRATED BY CONSCIENCE.
and its God, as they stand thus developed before our eyes.
For human nature is a ruined temple, though a temple still.
The greatness of its capacity, and the splendor of its architecture, show how divine is the hand that made it, and how
important its purposes. That it is in ruins proves that some
great disturbing force has swept over it and shaken it to its
foundations. But the guards that have been placed around
it show that even over the ruins there presides a wise and
merciful God, ready not only to meet and correct the evils
which this shock may produce, but to make it, by turning it
into a means of probation, conduce to the moral and spiritual
elevation of His people.
~ 28. Recapitulating the points taken in this chapter, we
have
a. The existence of a Supreme Lawgiver, inferred from
the existence of conscience as a law.
b. The existence of a Supreme Judge, inferred from the
existence of conscience as a judicial tribunal.
c. The existence of a Supreme Spiritual Executive, re       warding and punishing in life and after life, inferred
from the retributive attributes of conscience, them        selves incessant and unconditioned by time or matter,
and aided by a complicated apparatus of physical
and social sanctions.
We have the same species of proof for these propositions
that we have for similar propositions connected with human
society. From a code, we infer a law-making power; from
a court, a judicial; from the enforcement of the decrees of
such court, an executive.  If, in addition to such data, we
find that within certain limits the freedom of the subject is
~ 28
45 
CONSCIENCE AS PROOF OF GOD.
maintained, we infer that the government is one which, for
purposes of its own, finds it wiser to preserve individual
liberty and to impose individual responsibility, even though
at the risk of occasional disorders, than to attempt to destroy these agencies, by making all action to depend upon a
direct and resistless governmental impulse. And our conception of the power and prevision of such a government
rises in proportion to the energy, the splendor, and the compass of the instrumentalities it brings to bear to carry out
its polity. Applying this same reasoning to the facts before
us, we have the spectacle of a God, Creator, Judge, and
Avenger, establishing and vindicating a moral law by sanctions unconditioned by time and matter,
46
~ 28 
MIND AS PROOF OF GOD.
CHAPTER IIL
FROM MIIND.
a. THE NATURE OF MIND.
~ 29. The consciousness of each of us attests the existence of a distinct individuality, peculiar to ourselves, capable
of choosing or rejecting; of comparing, judging, and classifying; of reasoning and of imagining. This individuality, viewing it in its intellectual relations, has no bounds.  It is able
to bring together instantaneously and often unconsciouslyso flexible and rapid are its movements-the desert rock, on
which the shipwrecked mariner may stand, and the hamlet
four thousand miles off, in which lies his home. It spans
myriads of years with its sudden arch.  It stands on the
observatory, and measures the height and determines the
weight of stars, whose very light cannot reach us under a
million of years. Nor is its dominion limited to things
real. It creates as well as recalls; it convokes imaginary
assemblages  as well as reproduces those which have been
dissolved by time. Blinded in front by an impenetrable
veil it certainly is, for it can foretell not the events that are
to come; but its sight backward and upward and downward
is unobstructed, and the closing to it of the future is only
~ 29
47 
MIND AS PROOF OF GOD.
another proof of that contrivance which gives enough light
to illuminate, but not enough to destroy probation.
b. THE CAUSE OF MIND.
~ 30. What must have been that workshop in which agencies such as these were constructed? He that formeth the
ear, does Hle not hear? Hle that makes the mind, guarded
as it is, so as to subserve the purposes of probation, and yet
unlimited for all else beside, does Hie not think?
This, however, may be illustrated still further. We stand,
for instance, on the sea-shore, and see a vessel tossed in the
waves-no human power, it would seem, can save it. A rope,
however, is projected from the shore, by which the crew are
ferried over and saved.  In this we recognize the action of
human intelligence and beneficence.  Turn, then, for a moment, to another scene.  Buildings are seen crowded with
the sick and dying:
The wounded frotn the battle plain
In dreary hospitals of pain,
The cheerless corridors,
The cold and stony floors:
Lo! in tlhat house of misery
A lady with a lamp I see
Pass through the glimmering gloom,
And flit from room to room.
And slow, as in a dream of bliss,
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
Her shadow as it falls
Upon the darkening walls.
48
~ -Do 
CAUSE OF MIND.
We see human design in the rope cast to the foundering
ship: shall we not see a divine purpose in an agency like
this flung out among the sick and dying? Or can we refuse
to see the same designing power, acting upon the same subject-matter of a fallen nature, when we view such a mission
as that of Dorothy Dix to the insane of our own land?
~ 31. Let us take, however, one or two more illustrations.
An Englishman is seen casting stones, apparently idly, into
the Niger, and watching the bubbles as they slowly rise from
the mud below.  The women and children gaze almost in
sympathy at one whose objects in life are apparently so
much like their own.  It is Mungo Park, calculating, from
the length of time the bubbles take to rise, what is the
depth of the mysterious river whose sources he is about to
explore.  A boy sits by a chimney-fire in Lancashire, curiously scanning the lid of the tea-kettle as it flaps up and
dclown under the pressure of the steam arising from the boiling water beneath.   The housewife scolds him for his idleness, but she need not.  It is Watt, catching the first conception of the steam-engine.  That subtle element of mind,
residulg within that boy's frame, is to project itself forward
from the chimney-corner until it binds the world together
wlth ligatures of iron,-until the steam-horse dashes over
tressel-work and through tunnels, so as to equalize the miarkets and unite the sympathies of distant nations, and until
the press so works as to supply every home with a library
at the former cost of a tract.
Now how are we to account for the hunman mind otherwise than by the supposition of a spiritual creative power?
5
~ 31
49 
MIND AS PROOF OF GOD.
AIere matter might lead us no further than an elementary
mechanism, soulless and discretionless, like the first cause of
Schelling, or the inflexible and arbitrary germinative principle of La Place. But mind, in its multiform and flexible
adaptations to life,-mind, conscious of its own independent
volitions,-leads us above the prison-house wherein resides
a Deity in chains.  Mind, voluntary, free-acting, involves a
free Creator.  " He that made the eye, can He not see?"  He
that made the mind, is He mindless?
50
~31 
COSMICAL LAW.
C11APTER III.
FROMI THE EXISTENCE OF LAW IN TIlE UNIVERSE.
~ 32. Tiis topic will be considered under the following
heads:  a. UNITY AND HARMONY OF PATTERN.
Here we find a singular evidence of the unity of the
Divine Machinist. The trade-mark, if we may use the expression, is always the same. "I know such a pattern,"
declares the expert who is examined before a committee of
the House of Commons, as to the extent to which certain
goods have penetrated in distant territories, "and the mo
ment I saw it, though in central Africa, I recognized in it
the stamp used by our firm in Manchester for a particular
style of goods." So in traversing the regions divided by
one of our trunk railways, as we observe the line of stationhouses erected by the company, we say, "these we know at
once-the castellated walls, or the old English roofs, show
where the management of a particular road begins and
ends." So we trace back one style of architecture to one
period, and another style to another period.  So in a particular combination of color with effect, we discover one old
master of painting; in another combination, another old
master.
~32
51 
COSMIICAL LAW -3
Now if this is the case among the changing fashions of
human  society, how much more must it be so when this
similarity of patterns runs over hundreds of thousands of
years in time, and the whole universe in space.   Forever,
everywhere, as far as we can observe, are the same patterns
applied, the same fundamental principles of structure observed. We pierce the pyramids, and discover in the funereal recesses of those vast mausoleums, urns of a certain
shape, with hieroglyphics, marking a specific dynasty of the
Pharaohs. We discover similar memorials going back to a
similar period on the Upper Nile, and we at once infer a
common origin. We infer, in like manner, the existence and
unity of a now extinct race of civilized Americans, from the
sacrificial mounds scattered over North America. And thus
when we find primal types, beginning with the earth itself,
coming down to our day, and spreading over the whole
earth, we infer the unity as well as the unlimited existence
of the great Artificer of all.
~33. Now how is it in point of fact?  Let us, in order
to answer this, go back, under the guidance of geology, to
survey the beginning of organic life. Here we may pause
for a moment, to notice an error of the most fascinating and
graphic of all the historians of the pre-Adamite earth-the
late Hu-gh Miller.
Impressed, as was natural to his passionate and manly
temperament, with a vehement sense of the falsity of the
theory of the author of the  "Vestiges of Creation," he
seized upon an imperfect induction to give an additional
blow to an hypothesis which he had already effectually
demnolished  by arguments  of unquestioned  validity.   He
52
~ 33 
AS PROVING A GOD.
thoughlt, and in this he has been followed by others seeking
to strengthen a theological analogy which requires no such
support, that after the first animal creation there was a fall
in the creative type.  The earlier fishes and reptiles hle held
to be of a more perfect order, and these, he maintained,
were followed by a series of lower and more degraded creations.  Such, however, as has been abundantly dtemonstrated
by an able and recent observer in our own country, is not
the case.*  The Ganoids and Placoids, on which Mr. Miller
relied as instances of the superiority of the earlier creations,
united, indeed, features which placed them in a higher position than the typical fishes that succeeded them, for, as enmbryos, they exhibited capacities which, though undeveloped
in themselves, were the insignia of far higher forms afterwards to succeed.   They were, in fact, the obscure l)rophlecies of subsequent productions, but as prophecies they were
interpreted and dignified by the event, but did not anticipate
and pre-establislh it. During the paleozoic period they were
the "sole representatives of the vertebrate type, combining
in themselves the characters of all classes."   "The Sigillania and Leipodendron stood as the representatives of both
Cryptogram and Phoenogram, until these two ideas were
separately and more distinctly expressed by the subsequent
introduction of the typical forms of these two classes.  It is
as if nature first sketched her work in general terms and
* See Professor Le Conte's Lecture on Coal, Smitlhsonian Institute, 1857, p. 1C)7.  Prof. Agassiz, as will be seen,  incident.lly
adopts the siame position, which is also maintained with great fullness by Dr. Ha.rris in his Pre-Adamite E!artlh.
5*
~33
53 
COSMIICAL LAW
then elaborated each subordinate idea in separate families;
all these families, taken together as an organic whole, still
containing the original idea in a more completely developed
form, as if the problem of organic nature was first expressed
in a few simple but comprehensive symbols, and then differentiated."* But while there was in the beginning this
creation, as it were, of an outline pattern, (just in the same
way, to adopt an illustration from the writer just quoted, as
we observe in the first organization of human society the
grouping together iu individuals of several social functions,
each man being, however imperfectly, his own blacksmith,
shoemaker, and farmer, while afterwards, as the race progresses, the trades divide, each performing its functions the
more perfectly, because separately,) yet there was no subsequent automaton development of the future stages of
life. "If there is anything," is the conclusion of the very
interesting paper now before us, "which geology teaches
with clearness, it is that the animal and vegetable kingdoms
did not comeeace as monads, or vital points, but as organisms, so perfect that even the maddest Lamarekian must admit
that they could not have been formed by agency of physical
forces; that species did not pass into one another by transm?ission, but that each species was introduced in full perfection, remained unchanged during the term of their existence,
and died in full perfection; that physical conditions cannot
change one species into another, but that a species will
rather give up its life than its specific character."  "As far
as the evidence of geology extends, each species was intro
* Smithsonian Institute, 1857, p. 16).
54
~ 33 
PROVING THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES.
duced by the direct mziraculous izteyrference of a p)ersonal
intelligence. There has, indeed, been a constantly increasing series, but the connection between the terms of the series
has not been physical or genetic, but intellectual; not founded
in the laws of reproduction, but in the eternal counsels of
the Almighty."
~ 34. Let us go back, however, to this principle of identity of pattern, each fo)rmation in due time mounting to
successively higher species, not by transformation, but by
specific divine direction.* Then, when we take into consideration the almost infinite series of years during which
this progress has gone on; the unlimited cosmical field on
which it operates; the equally unlimited command of resources which it displays; the magnificent sweep of purpose
and the exquisite delicacy of detail it combines, and at the
same time the calm precision and evenness of the gradually
narrowing cycles by which it concentrates itself upon manwe may well concur in the truths of the following attributes
as belonging to the Divine Creator and Ruler of all:    I. Unity of agency.
II. Consistency of purpose.
II[. Unlimited power.
VI. Patience and majestic endurance.
V. A capacity for the most sublime development of plan
and the most exquisite discrimination of detail.
VI. A continuing special superintendence of the world.
VtI. The recognition of man, as occupying a post of final
* See Agtssiz's Report on the Fossil Fishes of the Devonian System, Twelfth Report Biitish Association, p. 85.
55
~34 
COSMIICAL LAWS:
importance in this grand series of development, with behind him an almost unlimited past, instinct, with its lessons
of humility, of dependence on the divine purpose, and yet, at
the same time, of responsibility, showing us that man is the
great moral centre of this immense educational as well as
economical engine.*
VIIL. The recognition also of the truth, that the defects
and evils of this stage of spiritual existence are but ancillary
to, and preparatory for, a higher order, in the same way
that the defects and evils in the earlier stages of physical
development are incident to the latter.   These defects and
evils are, therefore, inherent in an intermediate stage, in a
series of advances, from chaos to final perfection.tI
b. UNION OF HARMONY IN GENERAL LAWS, WITH SPECIAL
ADAPTATION OF DETAILS.1
~ 35. Under this head I cannot do more than adopt the
following summary, in which Professor Agassiz, with a
delicacy and exactness of analysis only excelled by the synthetical completeness of the material on which it rests, sums
up the theistic inferences to be collected from the first volume of the great work which he has now under publication:  "In recapitulating the preceding statements we may present the following conclusions
1st. The connection of all these known features of nature
into one system exhibits thought, the most comprehensive
thlought, in limits transcending the highest wonted powers of
man.
t See post,  i 173.
56
~ 35
* See PO,3t, P 100.
+ See post,  229. 
AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION.
2d. The simultaneous existence of the most diversified types
under identical circumstances exhibits thought, the ability to
adapt a great variety of structures to the most uniform coinditions.
3d. The repetition of similar types, under the most diversified circumstances, shows an immaterial connection between
them; it exhibits thought, proving directly how completely
the creative mind is independent of the influence of a material world.
4th. The unity of plan in otherwise highly diversified types
of animals, exhibits thought; it exhibits more immediately
premeditation, for no plan could embrace such a diversity of
beings, called into existence at such long intervals of time,
unless it had been framed in the beginning with immediate
reference to the end.
~ 36. 5th. The correspondence, now generally known as
special homologies, in the details of structure in animals
otherwise entirely disconnected, down to the most minute
peculiarities, exhibits thought, and more immediately the
power of expressing a general proposition in an indefinite
number of ways, equally complete in themselves, though differing in all their details.
6th. The various degrees and different kinds of relationship
among animals which can have no genealogical connection,
exhibit thought, the power of combining different categories
into a permanent, harmonious whole, even though the material basis of this harmony be ever changing.
7th. The simultaneous existence, in the earliest geological
periods in which animals existed at all, of representatives of
~ 36
57 
COSMICAL LAWS:
all the great types of the animal kingdom, exhibits most especially thought, considerate thought, combining power, premeditation, prescience, omniscience.
8th. The gradation based upon complications of structure
which may be traced among animals built upon the same
plan, exhibits thought, and especially the power of distributing harmoniously unequal gifts.
9th. The distribution of some types over the most extensive
range of the surface of the globe, while others are limited to
particular geographical areas, and the various combinations
of these types into zoological provinces of unequal extent,
exhibit thought, a close control in the distribution of the
earth's surface among its inhabitants.
10th. The identity of structure of these types, notwithstanding their wide geographical distribution, exhibits thought,
that deep thought which, the more it is scrutinized, seems
the less capable of being exhausted, though its meaning at
the surface appears at once plain and intelligible to every
one.
~ 37. 11th. The community of structure in certain respects
of animals otherwise entirely different, but living within the
same geographical area, exhibits thought, and more particularly the power of adapting most diversified types with peculiar structures to either identical or to different conditions of
existence.
12th. The connection, by series, of special structures observed in animals widely scattered over the surface of the
globe, exhibits thought, unlimited comprehension, and more
directly omnipresence of mind, and also prescience, as far as
such series extend through a succession of geological ages.
58
~ 37 
AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION.
13th. The relation there is between the size of animals and
their structure and form, exhibits thought; it shows that in
nature the quantitative differences are as fixedly determined
as the qualitative ones.
14th. The independence in the size of animals of the mediums in which they live, exhibits thought, in establishing
such close connection between elements so influential in
themselves and organized beings so little affected by the nature of these elements.
~ 38. 15th. The permanence of specific peculiarities under
every variety of external influences, during each geological
period, and under the present state of things upon earth,
exhibits thought; it shows, also, that limitation in time is an
essential element of all finite beings, while eternity is an attribute of the Deity only.
16th. The definite relations in which animals stand to the
surrounding world, exhibit thought; for all animals living
together stand respectively, on account of their very differences, in different relations to identical conditions of existence, in a manner which implies a considerate adaptation of
their varied organization to these uniform conditions.
17th. The relations in which individuals of the same species
stand to one another exhibit thought, and go far to prove
the existence in all living beings of an immaterial imperishable principle, similar to that which is generally conceded to
man only.
18th. The limitation of the range of changes which animals undergo during their growth, exhibits thought; it
shows most strikingly the independence of these changes of
~ 38
59 
COS3IICAL LAWS:
external influences, and the necessity that they should be
determined by a power superior to these influences.
19th. The unequal limitation in the average duration of the
life of individuals in different species of animals, exhibits
thought; for, however uniform or however diversified the
conditions of existence may be under which animals live together, the average duration of life, in different species, is
unequally limited. It points therefore at a knowledge of
time and space, and of the value of time, since the phases of
life of different animals are apportioned according to the
part they have to perform upon the stage of the world.
20th. The return to a definite norm of animals which multiply in various ways, exhibits thought. It shows how wide
a cycle of modulations may be included in the same conception, without yet departing from a norm expressed more
directly in other combinations.
~ 39. 21st. The order of succession of the different types
of animals and plants characteristic of the different geological epochs, exhibits thought. It shows that while the
material world is identical in itself in all ages, ever different
types of organized beings are called into existence in successive periods.
22d. The localization of some types of animals upon the
same points of the surface of the globe, during several successive geological periods, exhibits thought, consecutive
thought; the operations of a mind acting in conformity
with a plan laid out beforehand and sustained for a long
period.
2S3d. The limitation of closely allied species to different
60
~ 39 
AGA.SSIZ' CLASSIFICATION.
geological periods, exhibits thought; it exhibits the power
of sustaining nice distinctions, notwithstanding the interposition of great disturbances by physical revolutions.
24th. The parallelism between the order of succession of
animals and plants in geological times, and the gradation
among the living representatives, exhibit thought; consecutive thought, superintending the whole development of nature from beginning to end, and disclosing throughout a
gradual progress, ending with the introduction of man at
the head of the animal creation.
25th. The parallelism between the order of succession of
animals in geological times, and the changes their living representatives undergo during their embryological growth, exhibits thought; the repetition of the same train of thoughts
in the phases of growth of living animals and the successive
appearance of their representatives in past ages.
26th. The combination, in many extinct types, of characters
which, in later ages, appear disconnected in different types,
exhibits thought, prophetic thought, foresight; combinations
of thought preceding their manifestation in living forms.
27th. The parallelism between the gradation among animals
and the changes they undergo during their growth, exhibits
thought, as it discloses everywhere the most intimate connection between essential features of animals which have no
necessary physical relation, and can, therefore, not be understood as otherwise than as established by a thinking being.
28th. The relations existing between these different series
and the geographical distribution of animals, exhibit thought;
they show the omnipresence of the Creator.
6
~ 39
61 
COSMICAL LAWS:
29th. The mutual dependence of the animal and vegetable
kingdoms for their maintenance exhibits thought; it displays
the care with which all conditions of existence, necessary to
the maintenance of organized beings, have been balanced.
30th. The dependence of some animals upon others or upon
plants for their existence, exhibits thought; it shows to what
degree the most complicated combinations of structure and
adaptation can be rendered independent of the physical conditions which surround them.
~ 40. We may sum up the results of this discussion, up to
this point, in still fewer words:  All organized beings exhibit in themselves all those categories of structure and of existence upon which a natural
system may be founded, in such a manner that, in tracing it,
the human mind is only translating into human language the
divine thoughts expressed in nature in living realities.
All these beings do not exist in consequence of the continued agency of physical causes, but have made their successive appearance upon earth by the immediate intervention
of the Creator. As proof, I may sum up my argument in
the following manner:  The products of what are commonly called physical agents
are everywhere the same, (that is, upon the whole surface of
the globe,) and have always been the same, (that is, during
all geological periods;) while organized beings are everywhere different, and have differed in all ages. Between two
such series of phenomena there can be no casual or genetic
connection.
31st. The combination in time and space of all these
62
~40 
AGASSIZ' CLASSIFICATION.
thoughtful conceptions exhibits not only thought; it shows
also premeditation, power, wisdom, greatness, prescience,
omniscience, providence.
In one word, all these facts in their natural connection
proclaim aloud the one God, whom  man may know, adore,
and love; and natural history must, in good time, become
the analysis of the thoughts of the Creator of the universe,
as manifested in the animal and vegetable kingdoms."*
* Contributions to the Natural History of the United States of
America, vol. i., part i., chap. i., sec. xxxii.
~40
63 
EXISTENCE OF MATTER
CHAPTER IV.
FROM MATTER.
a. UNIVERSAL BELIEF IN SOME ETERNAL EXISTENCE.
~ 41. The atheist concurs with the theist in holding that
something must have existed from eternity, and that this
something must have been unoriginated.  If we  examine
the several schools of atheism we will find them all converge
to this. Hie who holds that the earth is itself eternal; he
who believes in an original fire-mist out of which all subsequent matter was evolved; he who holds to a chance creation,-each goes back to some primary existence, be it earth,
or fire-mist, or random-atoms, which preceded this great
universe.
b. THE ATIHEIST'S ETERNITY EQUALLY OBJECTIONABLE
WITII THE THEIST'S.
~ 42. The atheist, therefore, holds to a positive belief that
is infected with all the objections that are raised against
theism. For,
Atheism, as well as theism, necessitates a belief in something that is independent of the conditions of time and
space.
Atheism, as well as theism, holds to self-existence and
eternity.
64
~ 41-42 
AS PROVING A GOD.
C. INCOMPREHIENSIBILITY OF ETERNITY NOT CONCLUSIVE.
~ 43. There is, however, a general objection, which may
here be noticed.  Eternity and self-existence are themes too
mysterious to be contemplated; and, as mysteries, they
should, therefore, be rejected. To this the answer is twofold.
a'. To assert incomprehensibility is begging the question.
Hlow can eternity be mysterious unless it exists? Nor is an
inability to comprehend a thing a valid ground for skepticism
as to its existence.  "There is a mystery about a plenum, and
a mystery about a vacuum," to paraphrase one of Dr. Johnson's remarks, "but one must be true." There is a mystery
about soul and about body, and yet we must believe in one,
if not both.
bl. Experience tells us that it is limit which is artificial,
not infinitude. Infinitude is nothing more than limit untied.
Take, for instance, the effect of the magnetic telegraph,
which operates by destroying the obstructions by which the
senses are impeded. Let us suppose, then, artificial obstructions to be removed, and we fall back at once upon eternity
as to time, and infinitude as to space.*
There is an anecdote told by Mr. Rogers, in his "TableTalk," which strikingly illustrates the unconscious confession
by the human mind of this great truth. IHe was visiting
a picture of the Transfiguration, in an Italian convent, and
observed an old Benedictine monk silently looking on the
same great scene. Day after day the poet repeated the
visit, and day after day the monk was found at his post,
gazing with an eye which seemed to view not so much the
* See this more fully statel, pos, os. 129.
6*
~ 43
65 
ATHEISM:
painting as the sublime fact behind it.  At last Mr. Rogers
made an excuse for asking him a question which might draw
out his opinion of the picture's artistic merits. " Sir," was
the reply, "for fifty years have I paced to and fro in this
chapel,-nearly three generations of monks have I seen pass
away, and sink under those stone flags; and, as I look up
to that vision of our transfigured Lord, I begin to think that
it is we who are the pictures, and that the reality."  And
is there any one who has watched the rapid course of human
life, who has, in the record of nature, seen how even mountains and oceans have been marshaled at their posts and
then dismissed at a divine command, but has felt that it is
the created that is artificial, and the Creator alone that
is real?
d. DESOLATENESS OF A GODLESS UNIVERSE.
~ 44. Nowhere is this more vividly portrayed than by
Jean Paul, in a celebrated paper, of which we give part of
a translation by Mr. Carlyle.   The author supposes himself
to fall into a dream, which he prefaces as follows:  "The purpose of this fiction is the excuse of its boldness. Men deny the Divine existence with as little feeling
as the most assert it.  Even in our true systems we go on
collecting mere words, playmarks and medals, as the misers
do coins; and not till late do we transform the words into
feelings, the coins into enjoyments. A man may, for twenty
years, believe in the immortality of the soul; in the oneand-twentieth, in some great moment, he, for the first time,
discovers, with amazement, the rich meaning of this belief
and the warmth of this naphtha well.
66
~ 44 
ITS DESOLATENESS.
"Of such sort, was my terror at the poisonous, stifling
vapor which floats out around the heart of him who, for the
first time, enters the school of atheism.  I could, with less
pain, deny immortality than Deity; there I should lose but
a world covered with mists, here I should lose the present
world, namely, the sun thereof; the whole spiritual universe
is dashed asunder, by the hand of atheism, into numberless
quicksilver points of me's, which glitter, run, waver, fly together or asunder, without unity or continuance. No one
in creation is so alone as the denier of God; he mourns,
with an orphaned heart that has lost its great Father, by
the corpse of Nature, which no world-spirit moves and holds
together, and which grows in its grave; and he mourns by
that corpse till he himself crumbles off from it. The whole
world lies before him like the Egyptian sphinx of stone,
half-buried in the sand; and the All is the cold, iron mask
of a formless eternity.1"
Of the remarkable dream that follows, itself the most
brilliant production of a very brilliant writer, the following
passage is all that can be at present extracted:  "I was lying once, on a summer evening, in the sunshine,
and I fell asleep. 5lethought I awoke in the churchyard.
The down-rolling wheels of the steeple clock, which was
striking eleven, had woke me. In the emptied night-heaven
I looked for the sun; for I thought an eclipse was veiling
him with the moon. All the graves were open, and the iron
doors of the charnel-houses were swinging to and fro by invisible hands. On the walls flitted shadows which proceeded from no one, and other shadows stretched upward
in the pale air. In the open coffins none now lay sleeping
~ 44
67 
DESOLATENESS OF ATHEISM.
but the children. Over the whole heaven hung, inll large
folds, a gray, sultry mist, which a giant shadow like vapor
was drawing down nearer, closer, and hotter. Above me I
heard the distant fall of avalanches; under me the first step
of a boundless earthquake. The church wavered up and
down with two interminable dissonances, which struggled
with each other in it, endeavoring in vain to mingle in
unison. At times a gray glimmer hovered along the windows, and under it the lead and iron fell down molten. The
net of the mist and the tottering earth brought me into that
hideous temple, at the door of which, in two poison bushes,
two glittering basalisks lay brooding.   I passed through
unknown shadows, on whom ancient centuries were impressed.  All the shadows were standing around the empty
altar; and in all, not the heart, but the breast quivered and
pulsed. One dead man only, who had just been buried
there, still lay in his coffin without quivering breast; and
on his smiling countenance stood a happy dream; but, at
the entrance of one living, he awoke, and smiled no longer;
he lifted his heavy eyelids, but within was no eye; and in his
beating breast there lay, instead of a heart, a wound. lie
held up his hands and folded them to pray, but the arms
lengthened out and dissolved; and the hands, still folded together, fell away. Above, on the church dome, stood the
dial-plate of Eternity, whereon no number appeared, and
which was its own index; but a black finger pointed thereon, and the dead sought to see by it."
~44
68 
DESIGN IN NATURE.
CHAPTER V.
FROM DESIGN IN NATURE.
~ 45. IN a fragment of Aristotle, preserved by Cicero, in
his treatise De  Yaturd Deoru?n, we find the following striking passage:
"If there were beings who lived in the depths of the
earth, in dwellings adorned with statues and paintings, and
everything which is possessed in rich abundance by those
whom we esteem fortunate; and if these beings could receive
tidings of the power and might of the gods, and could then
emerge from their hidden dwellings through the open fissures
of the earth to the places we inhabit; if they could suddenly
behold the earth, and the sea, and the vault of heaven; could
recognize the expanse of the cloudy firmament, and the
might of the winds of heaven, and admire the sun in its majestic beauty and radiant effulgence; and lastly, when night
veiled the earth in darkness, they could behold the starry
heavens, the changing moon, and the stars rising and setting
in their unvarying course, ordained from eternity, they would
surely exclaim,' there are gods, and such great things must
be the work of their hands!'"
From this stand-point, to which our very familiarity with
these great spectacles requires that we should elevate ourselves in order to understand them, let us view,
.
~'4 5
69 
TIEE OCEAN:
a. THE OCEA.N.-Let us observe in this connection,
al. The sea-breeze.
~ 46. To render a tropical country habitable, or at least
to preserve in it health and comfort, what design would we,
a priori, consider better than the periodical introduction of
a breeze whose coolness and whose strength would relieve
the heat of noon? Now this is what the sea-breeze does.
The more tropical the climate, the more regular its approach
and the more  steady its continuance.   "Usually," says
Mr. Gosse, when speaking of the tropics, "about the hour
of ten in the forenoon, when the heat of the sun begins to
be oppressive, a breeze from the sea springs up, invigorating
and refreshing the body by its delightful coolness, and continues to blow through the whole day, gradually dying away
as the sun sinks to the horizon. Then about eight in the
evening, an air blows off the land until near sunrise; but
this is somewhat variable and irregular, always fainter than
the sea-breeze, and dependent on the proximity of mountains. The application of what has been already said of the
causes of wind in general will be readily made to these particular cases, the air on the surface of the water being cooler
during the day, and that on the mountains during the night.
Either is a grateful alleviation of the oppressive sultriness
of the climate."*  To this may be added the peculiarly refreshing qualities of the salt with which the sea-breeze is
freighted.
bl. The ocean salts.
~ 47. Three things we would suppose necessary, a priori,
* Gosse, on the Ocean, p. 31.
70
~ 46-47 
PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE.
in such a body as the ocean: first, such superior lightness
as will make it a fit medium for the commerce of the world;
secondly, such an amount of mobility and circulation as will
afford highways for travel, as well as a preservative agency
to the sea itself; thirdly, the material from which those num berless tribes by which the deep is thronged, may construct
their homes. Now in view of such a design, what could be
more effective than the salts by which the ocean is permeated? By them the specific gravity of the water is so far
increased as to add materially to the buoyancy of whatever
solids are placed in it. And the compensations by which
this quality is maintained are no less worthy of notice.  If
a similar solution was placed in a vessel exposed to the sun,
there would soon be little left besides a dry saline crust. But
by a most delicate adjustment of the exquisite accuracy of
which science can best judge by the results, the water evaporated by the sun is so far restored by the rivers as to retain
throughout the vast volume the same specific gravity and
the same saline admixture.
These salts contribute largely to that great system of
oceanic circulation on which commerce so much depends.
Fresh water is but feebly affected by the dynamical impulses
set on foot by changes of temperature; salt water, through
its peculiar contraction as its temperature lowers, is so agitated as to produce those great currents which form the
ocean railways.   From this we have a "surface current of
saltish water from the poles toward the equator, and an under current of water salter and heavier from the equator to
the poles.  This under current supplies, in a great measure,
~47
71 
THE OCEAN:
the salt which the upper current, freighted with fresh water
from the clouds and rivers, carries back. Thus it is to the
salts of the seas that we owe that feature in the system of
oceanic circulation which causes an under current to flow
from the Mediterranean into the Atlantic, and another from
the Red Sea into the Indian Ocean.   Hence, too, we infer
that the transportation of warm water from the equator toward the frozen regions of the poles, is facilitated; and consequently here, in the saltness of the sea, have we not an
agent by which climates are mitigated-by which they are
softened and rendered more salubrious than it would be possible for them to be were the waters of the ocean deprived of
their property of saltness?"*
~ 48. To the salts, but more particularly to the solutions
of lime which the fresh water streams pour into the ocean in
such large amounts, we owe another very important element
in the marine economy.   It is here that the little builders of
the ocean find the quarries from which their houses are constructed. Hence come the stone and the mortar which is
worked into the creviceless dome which rises over the oyster's
home. Hence come the minarets which form at once the
guards and the ornaments of one species, and the peaked
spear-heads which strengthen the armor of another.  iHere
it is that the masons of the coral bank find their stone.
When we recollect the myriads of creatures whose happiness
is promoted and whose life secured by this process, we
may well, as we look at the limestone rivulet that washes
* Maury, Phys. Geog. of the Sea, I 316, &c
72
~48 
PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE.
the mountain side, admire the wisdom and goodness by which
its ingredients are composed and its course is directed.  For
it goes to aid in building innumerable cities to be inhabited
by an active and useful population,-a population whose
members not only subserve their immediate end as parts of
the great chain of created beings, but perform an important
office in maintaining that balance of life without which man
himself would cease to exist.
For by them is no small part of the great work of the
movement of the waters carried on. We all know in how
short a time a comparatively small body of insects-the soldier-ant, for instance-is capable of undermining a solid
wall. But here, in an element in a vast degree more susceptible to their subtle action, we have myriads upon myriads
of artificers at work.   Thither they proceed, these hod-men
of the seas, carrying away from its ocean beds their countless little loads of mortar, of salts, and of solids.   "HIow
much solid matter," says the same intelligent observer whom
we have just quoted, "does the whole host of marine plants
and animals abstract from sea water daily? Is it a thousand
pounds, or a thousand millions of tons? No one can say.
But whatever be its weight, it is so much of the power of
gravity applied to the dynamical forces of the ocean. And
this power is derived from the salts of the sea, through the
agency of sea-shells and other marine animals. Yet they
have power to put the whole sea in motion, from the equator
to the poles, and from top to bottom."
cl. The Gulf Stream. 
~ 49. Assuming, at the outset, the division of the earth
73
~49 
THE GULF STREAM:
into zones, of such a character as to generate variety of pro duce and of character, and hereby to promote enterprise,
both in commerce and in productive industry, it must follow,
that large sections, unless some compensatory process be
adopted, will be so far removed from the mean temperature
as to be unsuitable for human habitation. Thus, without
some such process, England, Norway, Sweden, and even the
north of France, would be desolated on the one side by cold,
and the islands of the Caribbean Sea, and the countries bordering on the Gulf of Mexico, by heat. What process
would we suppose an intelligent and beneficent Creator
to adopt to equalize these extremes, by drawing from
the one to the other the excess of heat, and by throwing
back the excess of cold?
Now, before we answer this question, let us suppose that
we visit, in the dead of winter, one of the larger and more
complete hot-houses, by which the vegetables and fruits of
summer are brought to the market in early spring.  There,
where all the skill of recent experience is brought to bear,
we will find, in a cellar under an out-house, a large boiler, in
which water is heated. From this pipes are taken to a
chamber, where they are so flared out as to raise to a high
degree of heat a given body of air, which is afterwards
taken by a hot air-pipe to the green-house. The water,
being cooled, is collected again in a single pipe, and thus
returned to the boiler to be re-heated. Again the circuit is
commenced, and again completed, and so on until the desired temperature is reached.   So it is, that, by a very
simple and yet beautiful apparatus, the climate of summer
74
~49 
PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE.
is diffused, where otherwise the cold of winter would prevail, and a perennial  verdure  and  fructification  maintained.
Those who acquiesce in the contrivance displayed in such
an apparatus as this, may be well taken to view a similar
mechanism, though on anil infinitely grander scale, in the
Gulf Stream. It is, as Lieutenant Maury has shown us
with great beauty, as if the Mexican Gulf and the Caribbean Sea were the cauldrons, the torrid zone the furnace,
and the grand ocean sweep between the Grand Banks of
Newfoundland and the shores of Europe the reservoir, into
which the warm waters of the Gulf Stream, which is the
pipe, are so played as to produce the maximum of effect.
For, to use the striking language of this capable observer,
"there is a river in the ocean. In the severest droughts it
never fails, and in the mightiest floods it never overflows.
Its banks and its bottom are of cold water, while its current
is of warm. The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its
mouth is in the Arctic seas. It is the Gulf Stream. There
is in the world no more majestic flow of waters. Its current
is more rapid than the Mississippi or the Amazon."
Let us watch, then, in this view, the progress of this extraordinary river, as it proceeds on its mission of equalizing
the heats of the countries which it touches. The burning
Mexican plains, where the river begins, contribute the fuel.
There, as we are told, "the quantity of specific heat daily
carried off by the Gulf Stream from these regions and discharged over the Atlantic, is sufficient to raise mountains of
iron from zero to the melting-point, and to keep in flow
75
~49 
THE GULF STREAM:
from them a molten stream of metal greater in volume than
the waters daily discharged from the Mississippi River."
From the Caribbean Sea the cooler water is supplied. It
enters this vast basin through the southern line of the channel, which is guarded by Yucatan and Florida, and then,
with a temperature, at the depth of four hundred and fifty
fathoms, of but 43~, it increases, when it passes from the furnace, 40~ in heat. Through its watery banks, which are so
sharp and well marked, that a vessel may lie on the dividingline and touch the two distinct strata on each side, it passes
on, at a maximum temperature of 86~, until, after having
traversed three thousand miles, it retains a summer warmth
in the depth of winter. "With this temperature it crosses
the fortieth degree of north latitude, and there, overflowing
its liquid banks, it spreads itself out for thousands of square
leagues over the cold waters around, and covers the ocean
with a mantle of warmth that serves so much to mitigate in
Europe the rigors of winter. Moving now more slowly, but
dispensing its genial influences more freely, it finally meets
the British Islands. By these it is divided, one part going
into the Polar basin of Spitzbergen, the other entering into
the Bay of Biscay, but each with a warmth considerably
above the ocean temperature."
~ 50. Let us first view its effect on England. The port
of Liverpool is never closed with ice; it is 2~ farther north
than that of St. Johns, Newfoundland, which, being frozen
half the year, is of course incapable of sustaining commerce.
Let us look, for a moment, at the consequences, had the
same bands existed round the English coast. Cowper has
76
~50 
PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE.
well described the spectacle that now awaits the visitor to
those shores:
From side to side of her delightful isle
Is she not clothed with a perpetual smile,
Her fields a rich expanse of wavy corn,
Poured out from plenty's overflowing horn;
Her peaceful shores, where busy commerce waits
To pour his golden tide through all her gates?
This scene would be changed to one where ice-choked
ports would be fed only by rivers, themselves frozen half the
year, and where a mist, as constant as that of Labrador,
would give through its fissures and breaks only sunlight
enough to mature the coarsest grain.   From such a climate
commerce would be excluded, and agriculture would obtain
but a scanty subsistence. The England of our fathers, and
the England of our own days, would never have existed. It
is one of the properties of that peculiar climate-the
bracing winters, and the springs and summers, gradual,
equal, and genial, as well as of the seafaring habits it produces-to generate a race, which, whether it remains at
home or follows Raleigh and Davenport to American forests, or charges with Clive on the hosts at Arcot, always
has maintained the same indomitable energy, the same sturdiness of moral character, the same indifference to the dramatic, but profound appreciation of the real, which led not
only to the English reformation and to American colonization,
not only to the revolution that made William of Orange King,
and that which made George Washington President, but
to the publication of Protestant doctrines and free principles
throughout the globe. Our own land would not have re                           7*
~50
77 
THE GULF STREAM:
mained undiscovered, but it would have been approached,
not through the rugged rocks and scanty sea-board, but
through the northern or southern entrances to the Mississippi valley. Those who visit that superb domain will concur in the remark, that had the valley of the Mississippi
been known in time, the ravine-broken and stormy coast
that lies east of the Alleghanies would never have been
populated. The light and sociable French, or the indolent
Spaniards, would not have hesitated.   The  magnificent
tract which lies between the Rocky Mountains and the Alleghanies would have been their seat. There, cathedrals, like
those of Mexico, would have arisen, to be thronged with a
Creole race, in which the less worthy traits in each component element would have formed a servile union. No adventurous seamen would have thence sprung, to vex the
remotest seas with their harpoons, and to exchange the
produce of their native fields for the staples of foreign
lands. The curling vapor over the salt-wells of the Kanawha; the heavy pall of smoke which now shrouds Pittsburg,
and Zanesville, and Wheeling; the stern-wheel boat that,
like a water-spider, and drawing hardly any more water,
jerks up the shallow tributary, and the steam-hotel that traverses in state the mighty river; the snort of the locomotive,
as, rather like a panther than a horse, it couches in the lair
of the tunnel, and then springs onward to another tunnel
over its air-line of tressel-work; the fierce glare of the furnace,
as its blaze, stirred by the iron rod of the engineer, is seen
along the river for miles through the midnight air,-these
things would not have been noticed. In their place, it is
78
~50 
PROOF OF CONTRIVANCE.
true, a gay and contented peasantry, such as that we sometimes meet along the banlks of the St. Lawrence, might have
filled the prairies of the central Mississippi, and perhaps
worked the sugar plantations of what was once New France.
But in losing the stern discipline of a less propitious clime;
in losing those hereditary traits of energy, of self-reliance,
of personal inquiry, which a descent through a hardy and
industrious ancestry produces; in losing the Protestant faith,
-the colonies would have lost those elements which were
to produce their ultimate national independence.
~ 51. What a difference to the world would have been
worked by the reversal of this heat-equalizing agent it is
not necessary here to discuss.  It may be enough to say,
that, if by this the Anglo-Saxon race had failed to acquire
those energies which, by giving it the control of commerce,
have given it the grand central distributing engine by which
alone opinion is to be disseminated over the globe, the destinies of mankind in the future, as well as their liberties and
faith in the past, would have been sadly altered. And when,
as we may believe, to this island of England, so sea-tempered
as to produce energy and virtue in their best human form,
and to her empire-colonies of America-no less her colonies
in lineage because no longer so in civil dependency-is to
be assigned the great work of universally publishing evangelical faith and civil equality, we may well see something
more than a mere economical purpose in that decree which
turned the Gulf Stream from its Caribbean feeders into a
canal, whose banks are themselves water, and directed it to
flow through this same strange channel for three thousand
miles, until it reach those shores which it is to temper.
~ 51
79 
CLIMATE:
b. CLIMIATE.
~ 52. It is not proposed to consider here at large the influence of climate.  One or two remarks, however, may be casually thrown out with regard to those discriminations, which
seem at the first view inconsistent with an equal benevolence.
a'. Its alternations as producing contentment and
patriotism.
The severe climates are not the subjects of depreciation by those who live in them. On the contrary, the
sympathy of others with those who inhabit such climates,
like that of the wealthy anarchist in Canning's admirable
satire of the needy knife-grinder, is entirely uninvited by
those on whom it is spent. Nowhere is there so strong and
deep a love of country as that engendered in these same inhospitable climes.  Nostalgia, or home-sickness, (heimweh,)
is almost entirely confined to the inhabitants of mountainous
and sterile soils. "It is remarkable," says Dr. Rush,* "that
this disease is most common among the natives of countries
that are least desirable for beauty, fertility, climate, or the
luxuries of life." And Goldsmith thus touches on the
same point,
The intrepid Swiss that guards a foreign shore,
Condemned to climb his mountain-cliffs no more,
I
If chance he hear the song, so sweetly wild,
Which, on those cliffs, his infant hour beguiled,
Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise,
And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs.
* Rush, on the MIind, pp. 38, 39.
so
~ 52 
DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS.
Those who have watched over a collection of boys, drawn,
as is often the case in our own country, from a wide diversity
of climates and soils, will recollect how it is that those
homes are most pined after which, in a worldly point of
view, are the least inviting. The cottage by the mountainside, in which a rigid economy abridges even the few comforts which a hard soil and a narrow estate permit, plays in
a sweet pathos before the sleeping vision of the boy, the
dreams of whose next neighbor flit but lightly back to what
the world would consider the infinitely superior charms of a
luxurious city home.
bl. As producing home virtues.
~ 53. These climates are accompanied by home-enjoyments which are, in an eminent degree, bracing and comforting.  Such a result, in fact, is incidental to the domestic
life which a cold climate generates.  Take, for instance, the
inclement winter of England, which drives the family around
the fireside, and compare it with the warmth of that genial
French and Italian sky which draws them to the open field,
or to the roadside where the village takes the place of the
home. In the one scene, it is true, we see much that is plain
and coarse.  The rude and sometimes austere manner which,
to strangers, will be absolutely harsh; the home-spun dress,
cut in the most uncouth shape, arise, it cannot but be confessed, often from an entire want of perception of those
graces and elegancies which give polite society one of its chief
charms.   But with these ruder qualities there is a deep and
passionate domestic affection which pierces to the recesses of
the hearts of those on whom it acts, and draws up from them
the pure waters of a remunerative love. With this there is
~ 53
81 
CLIMIATE:
a practical, personal sense of responsibility to God, which is
so apt to be lost where home is merged in society, and an
equally conscientious, though perhaps reserved and undemonstrative sense of responsibility toward others.  Such a picture as that which Burns gives us in his "Cotter's Saturday
Night" could not be drawn in France, unless, perhaps,
among those hills where the Huguenots found refuge. On
the other hand, we shall be equally at a loss to discover, under the vicissitudes of even the most genial climates of our
own land, and shall more so under the austere sky of England, scenes such as that where
France displays her bright domain,
Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,
Pleased with herself, whom all the world can please.
But grace is here dearly bought when the price is the surrender of home seclusion, and the merging of the real in
the dramatic. If it should turn out that we are to make
choice between the reserved earnestness of the domestic
affections and the pictorial elegance of the social, we cannot but determine that the former is most conducive to a
higher order of-happiness. Tennyson tells us that
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all;
and the practical experience of all is that none would
part even with a grief, if with it is to go the memory of an
earnest affection.  There is still less ground for a comparison, if one must needs be made, between the home  and the
social affections when each is in successful play. For the
difference is the old one between happiness and pleasure;
82
~ 53 
DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS.
between the exercise of the healthy impulses of the heart
in the view of conscience, and the display of its sensibilities
in the eye of others; between a real and relied on recipro cation of affection, and a mere complimentary obeisance,
paid out and received as such.
~ 54. To this it may be added, that a wide field of objects
of enjoyment is not always accompanied by an increased
capacity in enjoying.   As the circuit of the instrument increases, its power of perception is weakened. The microscope may unfold the beauties of atom-worlds that lie in a
butterfly's dust, but to do this it must be pointed to that dust
alone. By increasing its range, we may see an hundredfold
more objects superficially, but we will not see one entire.
Thus it is that the frugal dweller by the hillside has often
many more luxuries than the wealthy inhabitant of the city.
For, as the latter's wealth increases, his luxuries diminish,
until, when there is none which his wealth cannot purchase
without self-denial, they cease to exist. All who have experienced an increase of wealth know how it is accompanied
by a diminution of objects of real and innocent delight.
What we called "treats," in more frugal days, have ceased
to exist, just in the same way as there can be no holiday
when all is vacation.*
* Charles Lamb has developed this thought with great
beauty in the following passage from his letter on "Broken
China":-"I wish the good old times would come again," she
said, "when we were not quite so rich. I do not mean that I
want to be poor; but there was a middle state,"-so she was
pleased to ramble on,-" in which I am sure we were a great deal
happier. A purchase is but a purchase, now that you have money
~ 54
83 
SMALL MEANS
To these considerations it may be added, that human
pleasure, so far from increasing, rather diminishes in the
inverse ratio of its concentration.
'Tis pleasure to a certain bound,
Beyond'tis agony.
enough and to spare. Formerly it used to be a triumph. When
we coveted a cheap luxury (and oh, how much ado I had to get
you to consent ill those times!) we were used to have a debate
two or three days before, and to weigh the for and against, and
think what we might spare it out of, and what saving we could
hit upon that should be an equivalent.  A thing was worth buying, then when we felt the money that we paid for it.
"Do you remember the brown suit which you made to hang
upon you till all your friends cried shame upon you, it grew so
threadbare, and all because of that folio which you dragged home
late at night from Barker's, in Covent Garden? Do you remember how we eyed it for weeks before we could make up our minds
to the purchase, and had not come to a determination till it was
nearly ten o'clock of the Saturday night, when you set off from
Islington, fearing you should be too late? And when the old
bookseller, with some grumbling, opened his shop, and, by the
twinkling taper, (for he was setting bedwards,) lighted out the
relic from his dusty treasures; and when you lugged it homne,
wishing it were twice as cumbersome; and when you presented it
to me, and when we were exploring the perfectness of it, (collating you called it;) and while I was repairing some of the loose
leaves with paste, which your impatience would not suffer to be
left till daybreak,-was there no pleasure in being a poor man?
or, can those neat, black clothes which you wear now, and are so
careful to keep brushed, since we have become rich and finical,
give you half the honest vanity with which you flaunted it about
in that overworn suit-your old corbeau-for four or five weeks
longer than you should have done, to pacify your conscience, for
the mighty sum of fifteen, or sixteen shillings was it?-a great
affair we thought it- then, which you had lavished on the old folio.
84
~ 54 
NOT UNHAPPINESS.
Nor do the perceptions retain that tentative power which
enables them to hold, for any length of time, their grasp on
the objects of sensual or even of intellectual enjoyments.
Now you can afford to buy any book that pleases you, but I do
not see that you ever bring me home any nice old purchases
now.
"When you came home with twenty apologies for laying out a
less number of shillings upon that print after Lionardo, which
we christened the'Lady Blanche;' when you looked at the purchase and thought of the money,-and thought of the money and
looked again at the picture,-was there no pleasure in being a
poor man? Now you have nothing to do but to walk into Colnaghi's and buy a wilderness of Lionardoes. Yet do you?
"Then, do you remember our pleasant walks to Enfield and
Potter's bar, and Waltham, when we had a holiday,-holidays
and all other fun are gone, now we are rich; and the little handbasket, in which I used to deposit our day's fare of savory cold
lamb and salad; and how you would pry about at noontide for
some decent house where we might go in and produce our store,
only paying for the ale that you must call for; and speculate
upon the looks of the landlady, and whether she was likely to
allow us a table-cloth; and wish for such another honest hostess
as Izaak Walton has described many a one on the pleasant banks
of the Lea, when he went a fishing; and sometimes they would
prove obliging enough, and sometimes they would look grudgingly upon us, but we had cheerful looks still for one another,
and would eat our plain food savorily, scarcely grudging
Piscator his Trout Hall? Now, when we go out a day's pleasuring, which is seldom, moreover we ride part of the way, and
go into a fine inn and order the best of dinners, never debating
the expense, which, after all, never has half the relish of those
chance country snaps, when we were at the mercy of uncertain
usage and precarious welcome.
"There was pleasure in eating strawberries before they became
quite common; in the first dish of peas, while they were yet dear,
to have them for a nice supper, a treat. What treat can we have.
8
~ -0 4
85 
SMALL MEANS NOT UNHAPPINESS.
The tendons relax and the sensibilities recoil; and at length
the appetite turns in indifference, if not disgust, from that
on which it has been satisfied. And the more the taste is
pampered, the more fastidious it becomes, the more difficulty it has in finding an object on which it can rest. If the
now? If we were to treat ourselves now, that is, to have dainties a little above our means, it would be selfish and wicked. It
is the very little more that we allow ourselves, beyond what the
actual poor can get at, that makes what I call a treat. When
two people, living together as we have done, now and then indulge themselves in a cheap luxury which both like, while each
apologizes, and is willing to take both halves of the blame to his
single share, I see no harm in people making much of themselves,
in that sense of the word. It may give them a hint how to make
much of others. But now, what I mean by the word,-we never
'do make much of ourselves. None but the poor can do it. I do
not mean the veriest poor of all, but persons as we were, just
above poverty.
"I know what you were going to say, that it is mighty pleasant
at the end of the year to make all meet; and much ado we used
to have every thirty-first night of December to account for our
exceedings; many a long face did you make over your puzzled
accounts, and, in contriving to make it out, how we had spent so
much-or that we had not spent so much-or that it was impossible we should spend so much next year-and still we found our
slender capital decreasing; but then, betwixt ways and projects,
and compromises of one sort or another, and talk of curtailing
this charge, and doing without that for the future, and the hope
that youth brings, buoyant and laughing spirits, (in which you
were never poor till now,) we pocketed up our loss; and, in conclusion, with'lusty brimmers,' (as you used to quote it out of
hearty, cheerful Mr. Cotton, as you called him,) we used to welcome in'the coming guest.' Now we have no reckoning at all
at the end of the old year; no flattering promises about the new
year doing better for us."
86
~54 
~ 55    CLIMATE: DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS.
other alternative be taken, and a capacity for more continued sensual enjoyment be secured, then comes premature
old age and decay, if not remorse.
It may be partly from this fact, and partly from the heroic
virtues which a life of austere early culture produces, that
it is to these sterile countries that we are to look as the
nurseries whence spring the races by which great empires
are founded.
These remarks may be taken as introductory to the following observations on the effect of the alternation of seasons.
cl. As necessitating labor.
~ 55. The few countries in which we find a fertile soil and
an equal and genial climate, are those in which men are the
most abject. Mr. Ellis gives us an example taken from the
Otaheitans. They have a soil eminent for its richness, a climate for its equal and generous benignity. They live, however, almost as brutes on the spontaneous produce of the
soil, and when urged to work, though only to the slight extent which is necessary to bring them to the comforts of
civilization, they reply: "We should like these things very
well, but we cannot have them without working; that we do
not like, and therefore would rather do without them. The
bananas and plantains ripen on the trees; the pigs fatten on
the fruits that fall beneath them. These are all we want.
Why then should we work?"
This inquiry, however, is one which the seasons, in by far
the greater part of the habitable globe, do not permit to be
put. The keen air of autumn braces the nerves, and the
necessities of winter call hunger into that council of war
in which the physical energies make their appearance, all
87 
CLIMATE:                      5
whetted and armed for the great battle with nature, for
which the early spring is clearing the way.   Other allies
soon appear.   The sun does his part in lifting off the barricades of snow and ice, and softening the frosted gates of the
rigid earth so as to let the invader readily in.  Necessity,
energy, the cheering calls of the opening season, the pleasure and triumph of that fruition which the gradual development of the year makes coincident with toil, combine to
spur the husbandman to his post.  And not the least beneficent part of this arrangement is the provision which brings
on the several harvests in a measured procession.  Those
who, even under our own evenly distributed harvest system
have chanced to visit a village when the wheat is being
gathered in-who have seen how all the available mtnale force,
from the old man who is all the rest of the summer a fixture
in the porch, down to the stable-boy whom the traveler depends upon to put up his horse, are at work harvesting, will
understand the object of the arrangement by which the several crops, beginning with the hardy early vegetable, and
ending with the no less hardy winter fruit, mature at distinct
intervals.  For the whleel of the seasons is regularly cogged,
and as each cog comes on in its turn, it moves a distinct process of vegetation. Were it not so, the neat but small farm
of the growing but still not rich farmer would cease to exist.
When the harvest came there would be a sweep made for
hands.  As the capitalist saw his ripening corn, which a day
or two longer would kill, he would force from his weaker
neighbor whatever aid his wealth or his power enable him
to secure.  To bring in the full harvest, also, would require
a large increase of the present agricultural population, and
88
~ 55 
DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS.
would in this way greatly derange the balance so necessary
between the several industrial classes.  Besides, let us ob  serve the momentous consequences which would follow from
a concentration of the several harvests. Now, when one
crop fails, another remains. When improvidence or adverse
weather kills the wheat that may be planted in the fall, April
still remains open for oats, May for Indian-corn and for po tatoes. So the storm of August may still follow the benig nant sky of July, or precede that of September; and the
harvest-home, which may be desolate one month, may abound
in beauty and richness the next.
d'. As generating energy, patience, and a sense of the
beautiful.
~ 56. Let us observe, in addition, the moral and social
effects produced by this development of the seasons, distin guished as it is by a combination of general laws with spe cial adaptations. Napoleon said during the hundred days,
that society can only really move onward under two forcesgovernmental pressure and popular impulse; and that it was
in this respect like the ship which required the application
of both wind and helm. So it is with the general laws of
the seasons, producing both certainty enough to invoke steady
work, and irregularities and special adaptations enough
to generate enterprise, and at the same time an intelligent
caution. By this same combination, while, on the one hand,
the comprehensive wisdom of the Creator is displayed, on the
other, by those immediate applications of a special divine
will to humair agency, man is made to know more deeply his
entire dependence upon God.
Nor should it be forgotten that to this alternation of sea                           8*
~56
89 
CLIMATE:
sons we owe, in part at least, the sanctities of home. Winter
comes with ligatures in his hands, to bind not only the stream
and the earth, but the family.  Hle drives the fisherman
from his nets, the plowman from the field, the child from
the play-ground, and collects them around the hearth. There
a new senate is convened-the senate of the family. The
village may meet to preserve its ways and commons, the
farmers may consult as to the best way to put down vermin
and keep off horse-thieves; but the family has its special
objects, the preservation of home peace, and the culture of
the heart. In a little community, so closely bound together
for several mouths each year, it is soon learned how necessary for the good of each as well as of the whole it is, to
pass laws requiring self-denial, personal purity, refinement,
and thoughtfulness as to others.   The veneering of politeness, which is enough for the superficial use of the world,
does not do here.  There must be an interior refinement by
the establishment (and unless in early childhood, how hard is
this to be done!) of a good heart.  Now is there any school
like the family for this, or any school-house but the home?
And yet are we not indebted, if not to the school, at least for
the school-house, to the pressure of winter?
~ 57. Let us, however, rise, in considering the question,
to a higher stand-point. Changing the method of stating
the argument for a moment, let us suppose that there is an
all-wise Creator, to whom, for purposes of His own, it seems
good to excite certain tastes and establish certain principles
in His creatures, not by compulsion, but in such a way as to
preserve their moral agency. Let us suppose that among
these tastes and principles are:
90
~ 57 
DESIGN IN ITS ALTERNATIONS.
a'. Appreciation of and love for beauty, particularly in
connection with personal well-doing, and with a due objective exhibition of order and law, so that such beauty may
itself be the subject of orderly development.
b2. The faculty of patient hope and faith in the future,
connected with present labor. "It is this," says Dr. Paley,
"which creates farmers, which divides the profit of the soil
between the owner and occupier; which, by requiring expedients, by increasing employment, and by rewarding expenditure, promotes agricultural arts and agricultural life,
of all modes of life the best, being the most conducive to
health, to virtue, to enjoyment."
c2. Fixed habits of industry as a necessary element in
probation.
d'. Belief in the transient and ephemeral character of
such present state of probation, and in a more splendid and
enduring existence hereafter.
~ 58. Now, what spectacle could be devised grander or
more impressive than that of the seasons? We have here
a most exquisite, as well as a most sublime mechanism constructed. "The vegetable clock-work," says Mr. Whewell,
"is so set as to go for a year."  It is a clock-work whose
dial-plate is the surface of the earth; whose figures are
marked by flowers and fruits, and whose hours are struck in
turn by the voices of the air, the field, and the forest. But
Mr. Whewell abridges the argument from contrivance when
he states that the clock of the seasons goes but for a year;
for it is part of a great chronometer which the Artificer of
the universe established before the beginning of time. Jean
Paul, in one of his apothegms, brings before us an impressive
~58
91 
CLIMATE-THE SEASONS:
picture of art as developed in the clock of St. Mary's, Lu beck, which will exhibit the movements of the heavenly
bodies until 1875, when it —must be reset.  Dr. Paley, in
illustration of the argument from contrivance, takes us to
one of the ordinary time-pieces, against which he supposes
his philosoper to stumble in crossing a field.  Is not the
argument strengthened, when the time the watch runs and
the number of its combinations are multiplied ten thousand fold? And are we to recognize this progression of proof
in the clock of art, which runs for years, and refuse it to the
clock of Nature, which runs for ages?
To the beauty of the sights that the seasons unfold we
may well turn, as reflecting not only the almighty power
and skill of the Creator, but the tenderness with which He
provides for His creatures sights of loveliness. The language of poetry, sometimes real, sometimes conventional,
has been so intimately associated with the beauty of nature,
that practical minds, when they hear anything like an accurate description of any of the exquisite scenes which the
ocean, the meadow, or the sky afford, turn from it as if it
were sentiment, not fact.  But the delicate coloring of the
spring flowers; the emerald verdure of the early grain as it
springs from the dark mould,-that dark mould itself at
once the grave of past vegetation and the cradle of future;
the voices of the birds, those cheap orchestras of the
poor; the rich and dark foliage of summer, and the gorgeous fruits of autumn,-all these things are FACTS, and are
to be treated as such.   Let us take, for-instance, Bryant's
exquisite description of Indian Summer:
92
~ 58 
ITS MORAL TEACHING.
And now when comes the calm, mild day, as oft such days will come,
To tempt the squirrel and the bee from out their wintry homae;
TWhen the sound cf dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still,
And tzvinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill;
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he
bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
~ 59. Now, this is all reality, and each distinct feature, as
it stands before us in its individual beauty, will be found to
tell its specific message. And this message is not single;
for it combines several great truths. It tells us of that tenderness which provides sights of beauty and repose for eyes
weary with the sorrows and trials of probation. It accompanies these spectacles with utterances of grandeur which
make that tenderness, even if we view it by itself, still more
wonderful and still more winning. It tells us of the patient
endurance and love of order of the Almighty himself; and
it asks us, if the Creator is thus forbearing and lawloving, what ought the creature to be. And, as the seed
bursts both from its burial-place of last year to its resurrection of the next, it proclaims the crowning truth of all:
" So ALSO IS THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD: IT IS
SOWN IN CORRUPTION, IT IS RAISED IN INCORRUPTION; IT IS
SOWN IN DISHONOR IT IS RAISED IN GLORY; IT IS SOWN IN
WEAKNESS, IT IS RAISED IN POWER; IT IS SOWN A NATURAL BODY, IT IS RAISED A SPIRITUAL BODY."
C. WATERING THE EARTH.
~ 60. As we stand by the water-works in a large city, as,
for instance, in Philadelphia, we find our recognition of the
~ 59-60
93 
RAIN:
amount of contrivance used to become the more vivid as the
simplicity and efficiency of the mechanism become the more
clear. We observe the dam by which the river is raised to
a height which enables it to supply the water power. By
the bank we observe the dark and dripping ribs of the
giant wheels as they heavily perform their rounds. Underneath us we can almost see the quivering recoils of the
water, as by blow after blow it is beaten up the supply-pipes
which lead to the top of the hill. Then comes the reservoir,
whence the water is conducted through the great city
below. The marble bath-tubs and the sparkling fountain in
one mansion do not prove the usefulness of the contrivance
more than the rough hydrant which supplies the stream by
which the washerwoman plies her trade in another. It is a
process which exhibits, in one of its highest grades, not only
the skill but the beneficence of civilization.
Let us look, however, from this to the watering-works of
the skies. The sun, acting on the rivers and the sea, produces a vapor which, while it raises, cleanses the water,
which is then received into the reservoir of the clouds. Hiere
it is held until the process is applied for its dispersion. A
watering-pot is said to be an imitation of clouds, but at best
the imitation is poor; for the rain drops so softly, so
equally, and in showers so patient, as to temper the system
as well as to supply the thirst of the vegetation it affects.
While the clouds are the reservoir, the sun is the forcingpump, the vapor the supply-pipes, and the rain the distributing-pipes. And yet, we find contrivance in the waterworks of the city, but refuse to see it in the infinitely
94
~ 60 
A MARK OF CONTRIVANCE.
grander, and, at the same time, more delicate water-works
of the skies.
But how is this process of condensation carried on? Let
us look, before answering this question, at the peculiar con figuration of the North American continent, taking this, for
our purpose, as an illustration of the whole globe. We
have, so far as the eastern half of the continent is concerned,
two great surfaces of water from which rain may be con densed, the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico; and we
have two great ranges of mountains acting as condensers.
These ranges have no unimportant office to exercise in
connection with the watering of the continent to which
they belong. For, to adapt to them the eloquent language
applied by Guyot to mountain ranges generally, they are
"placed by Nature to rob the winds of their treasures, to
serve as reservoirs for the rain-waters, and to distribute them
afterwards, as they are needed, over the surrounding plains.
Their wet and cloudy summits seem to be untiringly occupied with this important work. From their sides flow numberless torrents and rivers, carrying in all directions wealth
and life."
~ 61. Let us look, for a moment, at the stream of warm
air which arises from the Gulf of Mexico and from the Mississippi Valley. There an excess of rain is peculiarly necessary to feed those great rivers by which that valley is
watered. The ordinary processes of condensation would be
inadequate for this purpose. It is here, however, that the
Alleghanies and the Rocky Mountains come into play. The
wind strikes first the lowlands, meeting, perhaps, with currents as warm as itself, and, therefore, incapable of pro
~ 61
95 
NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS:
ducing that condensation which results, when two volumes
of atmosphere of different temperatures and of unlike degrees of moisture come in contact. But soon the trade-winds
from the Atlantic, and the moist and warm currents from
the Gulf or the plains, ascend, till they touch the higher and
cooler layers that hang around the mountain sides. This
produces a rapid and copious condensation, and from this,
on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, flow the
Northern Mississippi, the Missouri, the Yellowstone, the
Platte, the Arkansas, the Red River, and the Rio Grande.
Here, however,  the process stops.   Before these winds
reach the summit this moisture is exhausted; no more rain
falls, because no more moisture is condensed.   It is not
until the western descent of these plains presents itself to
the breezes that arise from the Pacific that rain begins to
fall. It falls there, it is true, but lightly, for the southwestern winds are much less fully freighted with moisture
than the southeastern, yet in sufficient quantity to supply
the comparatively moderate acquirements of the narrow
Pacific coast, and to fill the sources of the only two rivers
by which the coast is traversed, the Columbia and the Colorado. It leaves, however, between the western and eastern
slopes, that area of rainless table-lands which we call the
great plains.*
~ 62. It may not be out of place to pause here for a moment to observe that these great plains are not, after all,
mere blanks in the expanse of creation. There, the gramrna,
* These views will be found elaborated by an article, by the present writer, in the North Am. Review for July, 1858, p. 66.
96
~62 
THEIR PURPOSES.
or buffalo-grass, raises its spiral and hairlike, but nutritious
and perennial moss; there, are water-works adapted to the
peculiar wants of this thin and dry vegetation. The snow
on the mountain-peaks behind melts at the approach of
spring, falling in multitudinous threads over the great plains,
and where it does not actually irrigate, softens the dense
earth by its temporary vapor. There, the buffalo-grass pierces
the hard soil with its delicate fibres, holding its seed in its
root. There, as summer comes, the haymakers are at work,
though they toil not with human hands, as the sun and the
equal drought cure the hay on the ground. Hence it is
that these great plains are the barns in which Divine wisdom and benevolence stores away the feed for innumerable
wild creatures who there find their meat in due season;
there the buffalo, (preserved in these parks from the rapacity of man,) the wild horse, the elk, the deer, and the wild
sheep, congregate in numbers which, in the aggregate, are
estimated at an hundred million; there the great fur-nursery
of the Western future is seated.  When the prairies are
fenced into farms; when the woods are leveled to pastures, here the wild beasts of the forests will find a refuge,
itself as large as all Europe, where their lairs will be undisturbed by the proximity of human habitation. And should
a pastoral population, by the aid of the Artesian wells the
Government is now projecting, find a home in these plains,
it will not be without its appropriate nourishment and
mission. "In these elevated countries," says a sagacious
observer, "fresh meats become the preferable food for man,
to the exclusion of bread, vegetables, and salted articles.
The atmosphere of the great plains is perpetually brilliant
9
~ 62
97 
NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS:
with sunshine, tonic, healthy, and inspiring to the temper.
It corresponds with and surpasses the historic climate of
Syria and Arabia, whence we inherit all that is ethereal and refined in our system of civilization, our religion,
our sciences, our alphabet, our numerals, our written languages, our articles of food, our learning, and our systems
of social manners."
~ 63. But, supposing that these plains remain deserts,
interspersed, it is true, as the ocean, by rich and fertile
islands, but still, like the ocean, incapable of sustaining man
except as a traveler, does it follow that they are of no use?
To their west will then lie California and Oregon, great producing, and yet not capable of becoming great manufacturing countries; the former containing the finer, but not
the coarser metals, together with breadstuffs abundant for
her own support; the latter eminent for her wheat-growths,
her fisheries, and her lumber. But in neither California nor
Oregon is to be found the coal capable of working, nor the
iron for framing those great machines by which the wool of
a country can be turned into clothing, by which the hides
of the millions of cattle that range the prairies can be used
for the shoes and the furniture of the nations on either side,
by which the buttons can be turned and the nails cut.  On
the other hand, on the eastern coast of this great desert-sea,
will lie Kansas and Nebraska, of all countries the best
suited for the sites of vast manufactories. There, run rivers
whose descents and whose copiousness adapt them as well
to turn the wheel as to irrigate the land; there, underneath
a soil which can support a million of workmen, are spread
layers of coal, which will form the fuel for tens of thousands
98
~63 
THEIR PURPOSES.
of square miles; there, is the iron which is to form both the
engine and the staple, the arm that strikes as well as the material that is struck; there, in fact, are the great furnishing
warerooms, where the people of California will exchange
their gold and quicksilver, and those of Oregon their fish
and lumber, for the hardware, the clothes, and the furniture,
which the manufactories of the Missouri Valley will produce.   If this view be correct, the scent alone of these
prairie sea-ports of the West will not be unlike that at one
of our ocean-ports in the East.  At the docks of the great
cities which will then spring upon this shore of civilization,
will arrive fleet after fleet of the future ships of the desert,
each dashing over its iron track to the destined port.
There, on the levee at which these waves of sand will terminate, will be strewn the boxes containing not only the gold
of the Sacramento and of the San Joaquin, and the quicksilver of New Almaden, but the wines which are even now
beginning to be drawn from the vineyards of Los Angelos, and
the cotton and sugar from the south of Sierra Nevada. There,
will be found, in an abundance which New England herself
can but rival, the dried and salted fish of the Columbia and the
Willamette, and the furs which the Oregon hunting-grounds
produce in such rare abundance. There, will be seen warehouses and shops like those which, in New York and Philadelphia, collect for Western inspection the products of
Europe and of New England.   It will be cheaper for the
Pacific merchant to come here and purchase than it would
be to visit the cities of the Atlantic.   Manufacturers on the
Kansas River, on the Blue River, on the Osage, can sell
heavy goods at least twenty per cent. cheaper than mnnfac                                            ~   *c    
~ 63
99 
NORTII AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS:
turers in Connecticut or Pennsylvania. Freight, amounting
to five dollars on the hundred-weight, will be a sufficient
protection to force the manufactories of the Missouri Valley
at once into energetic action. The time will come when
the Western merchant, who leaves California by the cars to
buy his stock at the East, will find in Topeka, in Nebraska
City, in Lawrence, warehouses which will unite the products
of the Atlantic States and of Europe with the goods which
the abundance of breadstuffs, the proximity of the raw material, and the relief from the burden of freight which bears
so heavily on transportation across the Alleghanies, will
enable the factories of Kansas and of Nebraska to present
on the spot to the exclusion of Eastern competitors.
~ 64. In the people of the great plains the markets of
Kansas and Nebraska will not find purchasers only. Those
plains, desertlike as they may be, are dotted with islands of
great beauty and richness. Even in the sterile wastes, intervening between the south fork of the Platte and the
Arkansas, there frequently occur "little valleys," as they
are called by Colonel Fremont, "with pure crystal water,
here leaping swiftly along, and there losing itself in the
sands; green spots of luxurious grass, flowers of all colors,
and timber of different kinds." Sometimes these valleys
spread themselves into extensive territories, of one of which,
on the westernmost slope of the Rocky Mountains, the same
explorer tells us that it is twenty miles in diameter, "covered
with a rich soil, abundantly watered, and surrounded by
high and well-timbered mountains,-a place where a farmer
might well delight to establish himself, if he were content to
live in the seclusion which it imposes."  Sometimes the
100
~ 64 
THEIR DESTINY.
arable land is distributed in a circle, like that which surrounds
the Salt Lake. Not unlike the ocean, this vast sweep of
desert is broken by islands that are themselves continents in
extent and variety of produce, as well as by islands that
are mere specks of rock and sand.   It will be to the first
eastern coast that checks the waves of sand by which these
islands are girt, in other words, it will be to the prairie banks of Nebraska and Kansas, that this insular commerce
of the desert will tend.
~ 65. There is one other view, however, which is calculated still more to enhance the value of our East American land.   When  the time comes for the inland transportation of the goods of China and India from the Pacific
to the Atlantic, it will be found that there is one route whose
cheapness will enable it to outbid all competitors.   The
Pacific shores, unlike those of the more sociable and restless
Atlantic, rise up in uniform and dignified seclusion from the
approaches of the sea.  The coast of the Atlantic is perforated by bays and seamed by rivers.  There is scarcely an
area of ten miles square, east of the Rocky Mountains,
which does not send its tributary to the Atlantic.  Far
different is the case with the western slope of North America.
South of the Columbia River, two ranges of mountains follow the shore, the westernmost of which approaches so closely
to the sea as to leave no room for a river of any length to
strike inland. The rivers which run into the Bay of San
Francisco traverse merely the coast.   But the Columbia
River, as if for the very purpose of affording an avenue for
inland trade, while it forms one vast and navigable stream
from the ocean to the centre of the Oregon plain, flares out
9*
~65
101 
102        NORTH AMERICAN GREAT PLAINS:
at the latter point into three forks, each of which offers a
pass, and the only passes here accessible, through the Rocky
Mountains.  It is the Columbia alone that breaks through
the mountains of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada; it is the
Columbia alone that holds the keys to the passes of the
mountains, from which, on the easternmost side, run the
tributaries of the Platte. The forks of the Columbia will,
therefore, have on one side of them the only navigable
waters leading to the Pacific, and, on the other, the only
highways through whose mountain gates the locomotive
can pass on its way to the Missouri Valley.   That the
Platte and the Kansas are incapable of navigation, we
think is now abundantly proved; but it is equally clear
that the valleys through which they run are the natural
courses through which the canal must be opened and the
railway laid. Thus there will pour into the great depots
which these frontier States will present, not only the products of Eastern and Western America, but those of China
and India.
~ 66. To these considerations is to be added the fact, that
the corn and wheat prairies of Nebraska, Iowa, and Kansas,
stand on the banks of that great river, which, with a volume, a
force, and through an extent of country which no other stream
can equal, shoots down the freight committed to it upon the
vast corn-consuming plains of the Southern Mississippi. It is
as if the staple and the produce were placed at the top of
a great natural inclined plane, and the consumer at the
bottom. Never was there such an avenue for such a freight.
For five hundred miles these magnificent prairies slope upward from the river banks; for one thousand miles the river
~66 
THEIR DESTINY.
dashes down with a velocity which enables even the slower
class of steamboats to descend at the rate of from fifteen to
twenty miles an hour. It is here that the Missouri has
great advantage over the Mississippi.  The prairie country
is scarcely reached by the latter river, so far as continuous
navigation is concerned. The Rapids, at Keokuk, interpose a serious barrier to the continuous shipment of freight
from any but the southeast corner of Iowa and the southern
lobe of Illinois. Were it not for this, the shallows, above
Dubuque, interpose still greater difficulties in the way of the
produce of Wisconsin and Minnesota. The navigation of
the Missouri, on the other hand, continues nearly one thousand miles beyond where that of the Mississippi stops.
Where the languid waters of the latter have scarcely force
enough to propel, or depth enough to float a raft, the
powerful current of the former enables the heaviest boats to
double their speed.   Necessary, indeed, is this superior
energy in order to reach and drain the remotest regions of
Central North America. But by what a stupendous mechanism is this produced!
~ 67. These remarks may be of incidental value in showing how provisions have been made, from the commencement
of time, for the sustenance and comfort of the countless
multitudes who are hereafter to occupy what may be the
final seat of our race. But there is something more than
this in the setting apart, not merely of these immense
preserves for the sustenance of those creatures upon whom
man depends for so large a portion of his clothing, if not
his food, but of a land-sea as a commercial highway between
~67
]03 
CONTRIVANCE IN RAIN.
the almost equally fertile, though diversely producing re gions of the American East and West. If we look upon it as
one of the peculiar blessings of our own race that our
forefathers, on the shores of Old and New England, were
drawn by commerce and the proximity of the coast to as sume the hardships, to acquire the discipline, and to amass
the wealth of the carrying trade of the ocean, may we not
see the same advantages accruing in future to those who
are to have the great carrying trade of the land?
But suppose a different arrangement of surface, by which
the two ranges of the North American continent were consolidated, as in South America, into one spinal ridge, whose
base would be the Gulf of Mexico, and whose water-shed
would have sloped equally to the Atlantic and the Pacific
coasts. Removed as such a chain would be from either of
the oceans by at least a thousand miles, the moist sea-winds
would have dropped their rainy contents long before they
reached that great condensing apparatus which the mountains would afford.   No  rains would fall, therefore, on
Central North America; and the Valley of the Mississippi,
except those portions of it bordering on the Gulf and the
great lakes, would be an arid waste.   Of all territories
those which are the most capable of raising a rich and
numerous agricultural population are the States of Ohio,
Illinois, and Iowa, of Missouri and Kansas, of Tennessee
and Kentucky. But take these domains out of the Valley
of the Mississippi, and let them be heaved upward by a
central ridge, to which the Atlantic and Pacific winds could
never penetrate, and you have instead, either the rainless
plains or the desolate and malign ravines,-the Mauvaises
~67
104 
CONTRIVANCE IN SOIL.
Terres, which now make the slopes of the Rocky Mountains uninhabitable.   The Mississippi and its tributaries
would have ceased to exist, and the habitable portions of
North America reduced two-thirds.
d. SOIL.
~ 68. "Man," say McCosh and Dickie, in their work on
Creation,"* "is but the unwitting copyist, on a small scale,
of actions which have been conducted on a far greater scale,
and apparently with his benefit in view. Those very qualities which a good soil ought to possess, have been induced,
in course of time, by various chemical and physical agencies,
which have been in continual operation.   The debris of
rocks yielding calcareous, silicious, aluminous, and other
mineral ingredients, have been brought together, and mixed
in a way which the husbandman imitates when necessity
demands. The furrows drawn by our plowshares are but
scratches on the surface of the soil compared with the
changes to which that same soil has been subjected in
former ages, and to which it owes its varied capabilities of
supporting plants and yielding subsistence to the animal
kingdom."
Now let us view, in this connection, the soil of our own
Mississippi Valley. There, besides the agencies just mentioned, are these great rivers by which this plain is watered,
and whose specific mission can be traced in the superb
mould which they have been for ages engaged in forming.
* Page 346.
~ 68
105 
PRAIRIE SOIL:
For, long before the white man, or that strange, parenthetical people which preceded him,-even before that
Disciplined and populous race,
which built the great mounds of the West,
While yet the Greek
Was hewing the Pentelicus to forms
Of symmetry, and rearing on its rock
The glittering Parthenon;
then were these rivers engaged in collecting, in depositing, in manuring the soil.  Could a scoffer among the fallen
angels, such as those who in these days argue the absence
or indolence of God from the apparent wastes of creation,
have watched these rivers as amid the pine forests and the
lagoons of pre-Adamite life they wore their sluggish way
through their marshy bed, until, as time passed on, and the
fertilizing action of the water developed itself, rich and
dark mosses began to cluster, and mammoth ferns to raise
their thick and juicy spires, and the canebrake to thicken, so
as to present an impenetrable barrier on the river bank;
could he have seen how the waters of these rivers, and of
the seas from which they subsided, were only broken by the
clumsy dip of bird-mammoths when in pursuit of fish,
or by the plunge of the water-horse, he might well have
asked, as he compared his own high and refined order of
intelligence with the low and inartificial type of creatures
before him, what was the purpose of this apparent waste.
If so, a view of the distant future would be the answer.
Reefs, the workmanship of that coral population which, for
hundreds of years, had been rearing in the waters their
lo(,)
~ 68 
CONTRIVANCE.
fretted mansions, would gradually receive a light though
fertile soil. Then comes a rich and fat vegetation, pro ducing and precipitating by its oils and salts the most
effective of manures.   Then, as the rivers narrow, and the
bluffs arise, and as the agency of fire begins to be felt, the
prairie-grass commences its work of covering this rich soil
with a canvas to preserve it for the use of the nations to
come.   Oak-trees, from three to four hundred years old,
have been found with this prairie sod so placed underneath
their roots as to show that it was there when the acorn
was dropped. For centuries, therefore, the long and strong
threads of the grass-root have been knitted to and fro, until
at last they have become a fabric, the tenacity of which no
loom can rival. For centuries birds have rendered their
aid to complete the work by dropping down seeds of an infinite variety of stunted but thick-set little plants that clinch
and rasp the sod above and beneath.   For centuries fires
have periodically blazed over the whole surface, forcing
vegetation, in very self-defence, to betake itself to underground work, where its enemy cannot reach it, packing itself
away in cellars two or three stories deep.
~ 69. Now, let us observe the soil that by this process
has been produced.   On the bottom lands we have a soil of
sand and clay, richly impregnated and saturated with carbon and with the vast quantities of decayed vegetable
matter which the rivers are constantly precipitating.  Corn,
not unusually to the amount  of  an hundred  and  fifty
bushels to the acre, is here produced, witlf scarcely any
more preparation than the turning of the soil, which is
already so soft and pliable as to require only the ordinary
~ 69
10T
-f 
COAL:
plow-work. From this, which forms, more strictly speaking, the river-basin, there rises not unfrequently a second, or
subsidiary bottom, at an average height of fifty feet from
the river level, and sloping back to the bluff heights which
form the base of the inland prairies.   Of the fertility of this
formation, as well as of that of the vast inland expanses that
are covered by the prairie sod, it is not necessary here to
speak. It is sufficient to say, that nations, exceeding in
population all Europe and Asia, will find food in the great
valley which Divine wisdom and beneficence has thus prepared.
e. FUEL.
~ 70. The traveler who passes up the Upper Missouri into
regions where the crack of the woodman's ax is as yet but
rarely heard, will recollect how the progress of civilization
is marked by the frequency of the little wood-piles which are
placed along the shore to meet the wants of the steamboat
as she pushes her away against the strong and muddy current.  "There," is the cry, as the pile of fuel exhibits itself
on the river-bank, "there is the mark of man; there exists,
not far off, a human home, and here is the sign of thought
and contrivance." No one would listen contentedly to the
suggestion that these little heaps were drift-wood, broken by
some violent storm into these peculiar shapes, and then
swept by chance to these particular spots in the heaps in
which they are now found.
It is hard, however, to see how we can admit contrivance
in the wood-piles by the river-side, and deny it to the
wonderful deposits of fuel which we find adapted to the
108
~70 
DESIGN IN FORMIATION.
growing wants of human society. As the forests are hewn
down, and more particularly as the great and treeless
prairies are peopled, we may well pause to admire that wise
mercy which provided an inexhaustible field of fuel at the
very spot where it is the most required.   And yet it is no
slight proof of the patience and majesty of the procession
of the Divine will, that it is only lately that man has been
able to understand the object of this great contrivance.
Those huge cone-bearing trees, those rich and varied mosses,
that flowerless and fruitless vegetation, so luxuriant and so
immense, for what were they meant? And then, those layers
of black stone, cropping out by the hill-side, what object
have they? But now the answer comes in the hum of
"15,000 steam-engines, with a power equal to that of
2,000,000 of men, and thus is put into operation machinery
equaling the unaided power of 300,000,000 or 400,000,000
of men."* The answer rises with the smoke of the cottage
where labor plies its task, and from the whistle of both the
magnificent steam-hotel that navigates the Mississippi, and
the energetic and bustling little propeller that darts up into
the narrowest of the inlets that feed the inhospitable shores
of Lake Superior.
So it is, interpreting the meaning of the past by the development of the present. If, as we are entitled to do, we
take the converse, and judge of the development of the
future by the meaning of the present, how still more majestic becomes that Providence by which both present and
future are determined! Thick beds of coal, we are told,
* llitchcock's Rel. Truth Illustrated by Science, p. 111, etc.
10
~70
109 
COAL-FIELDS:
underlie 200,000 square miles in the United States, which
have been actually probed, irrespective of the vast area to
be hereafter examined. Taking, as does Dr. Hitchcock,
1100 cubic miles of coal as the measurement of that already
discovered, and assuming with him that one cubic mile
would supply the country for a thousand years, we are able
to look forward over a period of a million of years during
which-this fuel would remain unexhausted.*
~ 71. Nor is the care shown in stowing away this fuel less
worthy of our admiration. The masses of these soft, but
gradually hardening vegetable-coal, were overlaid with strata
of rock, forming a roof to the vast vaults in which they were
deposited for future use.  These vaults, or coal-cellars, are
placed in the vicinity of the points where their contents are
to be needed. The tropics know them not, and the semitropics but slightly. But in those Northern climes, whose
vicissitudes most encourage labor, there, where the great
factories of the world are to be placed, where its commercial
depots are to spring up, and population, in its most concentrated shape, is to be collected, this fuel has been stored. And
then, with a careful providence which anticipates, though on
so much more splendid a scale, the forethought of the manufacturer, who, before putting his machinery to work, collects
together his staples as well as his fuel, we find that iron and
limestone are almost invariably placed in proximity to the
coal. t
* See IHitchcock's Rel. Truth Illustrated by Science, p. 112.
t The bearing of the above on the political future of the
Inited States is strikingly exhibited in Professor Le  Conte's
110
~ 71 
DESIGN IN FORMATION.
We may well, then, unite in applying to these great and
beneficent arrangements for the comfort of man that remarkable passage in which the Saviour of men-Hie who,
during His human life, was so comfortless among those
late lectures on coal, before the Smithsonian Institute.*  "There
are, within the limits of the United States, no less than four coalfields of enormous dimensions.   One of these, the Apalachian
coal-field, commences on the north, in Pennsylvania and Ohio,
sweeping south through Western Virginia and Eastern Kentucky,
Tennessee, extends even into Alabama. Its area is estimated at
about 60,000 square miles. A second occupies the greater portion
of Illinois and Indiana; in extent almost equal to the Apalachian.
Athird covers the greater portion of Missouri; while a fourth occupies the greater portion of Michigan. Just out of the limits of the
United States, in New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, there is still
a fifth, occupying, according to Mr. Lyell, an area of 36,000
square miles. Besides these, there are several others of less extent.
If we now compare the relative coal areas of the principal coalproducing countries, the superiority of our own will be still conspicuous. The annual production of coal in Great Britain is
more than seven times that of the United States, although her
coal area is so much less.  It is estimated that even at this enormous rate of production the coal-fields of Great Britain will yet
last for five hundred years. There is little danger, then, that ours
will fail us shortly. Now, industry, as the basis of the organization of society, forms the distinguishing feature of modern civilization. Coal is the very aliment of industry. The material prosperity of any country may, therefore, be tolerably accurately estimated by the amount of coal consumed. According to this method
of estimation, Great Britain is superior to all other countries in
actual material civilization.   But if the consumption of coal is
a measure of the actual civilization of a country, the aniount of
coctl ariea represents its potentfial civilization. HIow far are we
* Smith. I-nst. Rap. 1857, p. 129.
~ 71
ill 
DESIGN IN COAL.
whose comforts He suffered so much and worked so grandly
to promote-thus speaks:
"The Lord possessed me in the beginning of His way,
before his works of old. I was set up from everlasting,
from the beginning, or ever the earth was. When there
were no depths, I was brought forth; when there were no
fountains abounding with water. Before the mountains were
settled; before the hills was I brought forth; while as yet
He had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest
part of the dust of the world. When He prepared the
heavens I was there: when He set a compass upon the face
of the depth: when He established the clouds above: when
He strengthened the fountains of the deep: when He gave
to the sea His decree, that the waters should not pass His
commandment: when He appointed the foundations of the
earth: THERE I WAS BY HIM, AS ONE BROUGHT UP WITH
HIM: AND I WAS DAILY HIS DELIGHT, REJOICING ALWAYS
BEFORE HIMI; REJOICING IN THE HABITABLE PART OF HIS
EARTH; AND MY DELIGHTS WERE WITH THE SONS OF MEN."
superior to all other countries in this respect! What a glorious
destiny awaits us in the future,-a destiny already predetermined
in the earliest geological history of the earth!"
112
~71 
~ 72     PROGRESS OF SOCIETY PROOF OF A GOD.
CHAPTER VI.
FROM THiE PROGRESS OF SOCIETY.
a. ARTS AND SCIENCES.
~ 72. THERE are but two ways of accounting for the comparatively recent development of the arts and sciences: the
one is, that man, though as a race, of indefinite age, has
only of late years been endowed with faculties for this purpose; the other is, that the race itself is of recent creation.
Take, for instance, the first alternative. Who endowed the
race with these new and special powers? Does not a new
and substantive addition to the properties of mind prove an
originator as much as does its original establishment?
But, in point of fact, there is no such recent accretion to
the store of human intellect.  It is true that Christianity
has given an industrial value and beneficence to modern art,
and that this has almost indefinitely increased the number
of useful inventions; but is art itself developed in our own
times to any greater degree than we would expect from the
accumulation of the experience derived from so long a lapse
of years?   Compare,  for instance, the elegance  of the
art of our own days with that of what is called ancient
times, and see wherein we have gained. It is not in architecture, however it may be in house building. It is not in
sculpture, however it may be in the industrial use of stone.
10*
113 
PROGRESS OF SOCIETY:
It is not in the embossing and moulding of gold, however it
may be in the working of iron.  In the mere line of ornament it is a question whether the lost arts do not almost
equal the retained arts.
~ 73. Nor can we say that the inventive faculties of the human race have diminished. Nothing has since exceeded the
fertility of invention and the vividness of the grouping of
the Iliad,-nothing has equaled the sublime and pathetic
theodicy of the Book of Job. Of Aristotle, we are told by
Archbishop Whately, that his is the only human intellect
which, at the same time, originated and perfected an art. Nor
can we now explore the remains of Pompeii or of Nineveh,
without seeing that the inventive faculty among the artists
who dwelt in those ancient cities was as strong as their
power of decoration was great.
But if, as is thus shown, the faculty and habit of invention are not of late introduction; if we are to presume
them coeval with our race, does not this bring the creation of
man down to a comparatively recent period? Could intellects as flexible as those which framed the Iliad, or ambition as remorseless and patient as that which built the
Pyramids, have worked for centuries without leaving a
mark?  Let us see how we apply the same test to other
matters of human observation. Robinson Crusoe finds one
day the print of a human foot on the spot which a day
before was unmarked, and he concludes that, between the
first and second visits, man had been there.   So in our own
land, we measure the duration of the several races which
possessed it by the monuments of art they left. When we
find that, compared with the geological record, the history
114
~73 
PROOF OF A GOD.
of human art is very brief; when we see how every year
heralds in important inventions, showing a progression
which, in itself, involves a commencement, we must conclude
that our race is not indefinite in its duration, but that it had
a definite and specific beginning.
b. REPRODUCTION.
~ 74. Taking the ratio of increase of man, as exhibited
during the section of history concerning which we have
been able to collect statistics, we have no difficulty in determining that, within a specific range of time, man must have
commenced  to exist.   Hlere  geology,  as will be noticed
more fully under another head, comes in to point out to as
exactly the period of animal creation in which the introduction of man took place.
C. WRITTEN HISTORY.
~ 75. Beyond three, or, at the utmost, four thousand years
back, we have no trace of the existence of any authentic
history. If man was eternal, with those same capacities for
narration which the earliest records display in at least an
equal degree with the latest, there is no other way of accounting for this silence except on the hypothesis of some
great convulsion which tore apart the lines of communication. But if so, the vivid memory of this great disruption
would have been recorded by those who stood on this side
of the chasm.   They would have left for us, in language the
most enduring, their testimony to an event so momentous.
But, instead of this, we have tradition, both written and
unwritten, all tending the other way.
~ 74-75
115 
HISTORY:
~ 76. To these remarks may be added the following striking observations of Dr. Chalmers:-"After all, they are the
direct testimonies, handed down from one to another in the
stream of Jewish and Christian authors, which constitute
the main strength and solidity of the historical argument for
the historical fact of a creation.   There might be fitter occasions for entering into the detail of this evidence, but we
hold it not out of place to notice even at present the strong
points of it. In tracing the course upwards from the present day, we arrive, by a firm and continuous series of
authors, at that period, when not only the truth of the Christian story is guarantied by thousands of dying martyrs, but
when the Old Testament Scriptures-these repositories of
the Jewish story - obtained a remarkable accession to
their evidence, which abundantly compensates for their remoteness from our present age. We allude to the split
between two distinct and independent, or stronger still, two
bitterly adverse bodies of witnesses at the outset of the
Christian economy. The publicity of the New Testament
miracles; the manifest sincerity of those who attested them,
as evinced by their cruel sufferings in the cause, not of
opinions which they held to be true, but of facts which they
perceived by their senses; the silence of inveterate and impassioned enemies, most willing, if they could, to have
transmitted the decisive refutation of them to modern
times; these compose the main strength of the argument
for our later Scriptures.  And then, besides the reference in
which they abound to the former Scriptnres, and by which,
in fact, they give the whole weight of their authority to the
Old Testament, we have the superadded testimony of an
116
~76 
PROOF OF A GOD.
entire nation now ranged in zealous hostility against the
Christian faith, and bent upon its overthrow. * * * * Now,
the truth of the continuous narrative which forms the annals
of this wondrous people would demonstrate a great deal more
than what we are in quest of: that the world had a beginning, or rather, that many of the world's present organizations had a beginning, and have not been perpetuated
everlastingly from one generation to another by those laws
of transmission which now prevail over the wide extent of
the animal and vegetable kingdoms."*
* 1 Nat. Theol., p. 183.  Constable's edition.
~76
117 
GEOLOGICAL PROOF
CHAPTER VII.
FROM GEOLOGY.
a. ANTERIOR UNINHABITABILITY OF THE EARTH.
~ 77. THiE conditions of heat and cold prescribe that
where the former is brought into contact with the latter,
through a conducting medium, the heat will be lost unless
there be a process inside for its continued generation. Thus,
if we go into a room where the atmosphere is at zero, and
find in it a stove-drum with a superficial heat of 80~, we
conclude either that the drum is now supplied with heat,
bringing it up to this temperature, or that it is gradually
cooling  from  an anterior higher  degree  of heat.   We
know that the cold air and the hot drum could not have remained in contact any long period without an approach
toward the equalization of their temperatures; and, finding
that the drum is not connected with any fire, we, therefore,
conclude that it has been gradually cooling. Now, the
atmosphere around the earth is of a temperature of at least
fifty-eight degrees below zero.  That of the earth runs up
from twenty to an hundred degrees above zero.  One of
two alternatives is, therefore, correct: either the earth has
had a beginning, or it has not. If it has had a beginning,
this involves a maker.   If it has not, but is indefinitely
old, then, as it is not pretended that it contains the power of
118
~ 77 
OF CREATION.
the indefinite renewal of heat, the alternative follows that
there must have been a period when it was in a state of incacndescence.   Hence, in either way, we come  back to the
alternative of supernatural interference at such definite anterior period.
b. SUBSEQUENT CREATION OF SPECIFIC FORMS OF ORGANIZED LIFE.
a'. Jlan.
~ 78. "All observation," says Dr. Hitchcock,* "teaches
us that he (man) was one of the last of the animals that
was placed upon the earth.  In vain do we search through
the six miles of solid rocks that lie piled upon one another,
commencing with the lowest, for any trace of man. And it
is not until we come into the uppermost formations,-we
mean the alluvial, nay, not until we get almost to the top of
that, merely in the loose soil that is spread over the surface,
-that we find his bones.   And yet these, formed of the
same materials as the bones of other animals, would have
been as certainly preserved as theirs, in the lower rocks, had
he existed there.   The conclusion is irresistible, and it is
acquiesced in by all experienced geologists, that man did
not exist as a cotemporary of the animals found in the
rocks.  At least five vast periods of time, with their numerous yet distinct groups of organic beings, passed over
this globe before the appearance of man.   This is not a
dreamy, hypothetical conclusion, but a simple matter of fact,
which has been scrutinized with great care, and by some
unfriendly to revelation, who would gladly have found it
* Rel. Truth Illustrated from Science, p. 120.
~ 78
119 
GEOLOGY:
otherwise. But no fossil man or works of man have been
discovered below alluvium, (in which we include drift;) nor
would any really scientific man risk his reputation by maintaining the existence of the human species earlier than the
alluvial period. What an astonishing exhibition does this
scientific fact bring before us! Suppose we could explain
by chemical and organic laws how the inferior animals were
gradually developed from one another in the successive
periods of our world's history. Yet here we have the phenomenon of a being introduced at once, superior somewhat
in organic structure to the other animals, but raised immeasurably above them all by his lofty intellectual, and
moral powers,-a being destined to take the supreme control of all inferior natures, and, so far as need be, to subject
them all to his will; and, in fact, to convert the elements
into servants to do his pleasure. The anatomist can, indeed,
describe his organization; the physiologist can point out
the functions of his organs; and the zoologist can assign
him rank at the head of animate creation; but how is the
psychologist baffled when he attempts to unravel the wonders of his spiritual power, and the theologian when he
looks into the depths of his moral and immortal nature  * *
What greater miracle does even revelation disclose?"
b'. Inferior animals.
~ 79. I propose, under this head, to restrict myself to
the examination of a few of the fossils lately discovered in
a single and not very large section of territory,-the Bad
Lands of Nebraska, called by the French trappers the
.Jlauvaises  Terres.   The  geological formation  of these
lands is of the tertiary period, and of all sections of
120
~ 19 
PROVING A CREATOR.
America as yet explored, they present objects of the greatest
interest to the student of cosmical as well as geological
science.* The traveler who descends from the vast and now
dreary level of the surrounding prairie, is appalled by the
sight of a basin of fossil cemeteries, sinking nearly two
hundred feet below the adjacent surface.  On the sandy
soil of this basin rise an infinite series of minaret-pointed
peaks, some jutting up two hundred feet, and many painted
on the side with prismatic hues. The quaint-looking towers;
the winding alleys which separate block from block; the
occasional buttresses which round off one line of streets;
the chimneylike turrets that rise over the level of the larger
and more compact masses, give all the evidences of some
vast but deserted metropolis. When, however, the observer
descends to the supposed city, the delusion vanishes.  The
perpendicular walls fall backward into slanting, weatherbeaten rocks. The pavements crumble into sands, which, in
the torrid heats of August, parch the traveler's feet as
much as the vertical sun oppresses his brain.  The chimneys
are but blocks of rock, and the minarets splinters of spar.
These castellated structures, though they are not the evidences of human civilization, are the metres by which are
noted the progress of events far more stupendous than those
of mere mechanical enterprise.  The turrets and columns of
the Bad Lands are incrusted with the fossil remains of races
submerged by the fresh waters of the early tertiary period.
* This subject is more fully considered by the present writer, in
the Episcopal Review for Jan., 1858, to which the reader is ireferIred.
11
~ 7 9
121 
NEBRASKA BAD LANDS:
Animals which preceded the mammoth and mastodon-and
between which and the mammoth and the mastodon there
exists a chasm which neither class has overpassed-are here
to be found in unequaled completeness.  Thus, for instance,
in the Archiotherium, a specimen discovered by David Dale
Owen, in his exploration, and examined by Dr.'Leidy,* are
united characters belonging to the pachyderms, the plantigrades, and the digitigrades. With these are grouped a
series of other individuals, which demonstrate, to use the
language of Mr. Owen himself, by no means an intentional
supporter of the Mosaic account, that "at the time these
singular animals roamed over the lauvaises Terres of the
Upper Missouri, the configuration of our present continents
was very different from what it now is. Europe and Asia
were then, in fact, no continents at all, being represented
only by a few islands, scattered over a wide expanse of
ocean.  The Atlantic seaboard of the United States, back
to the mountain ranges, and up the Valley of the Mississippi as high as Vicksburg, was yet under water.-In
Europe, during the period following the extermination of
the eocene Fauna of Nebraska, the Alps have been heaved
up nearly their whole height; and in Northern India the
whole Subhimalayan range had been elevated."
~ 80. So it is that on the Bad Lands we find the waterguage, which marks the rise and fall of a deluge which, if
not that of Noah, relieves that great phenomenon from the
main cosmical difficulties with which it has been invested by
the earlier skeptics. A deluge which, If not universal, was
* Owen's Geo. Sur., p. 198.
122
~ 80 
MARKS  OF CREATION.
at least extensive enough to have submerged all the living
members of a population as large and widely spread as that
of Europe at the present time, not only is possible, but is
shown to have actually taken place.
We have corroborating evidence as to the seniority of the
American continent in the coal formations which Kansas and
Iowa exhibit in common with the Atlantic States. Vegetable
life in the Valley of the Euphrates did not begin until race
after race of extinct species of plants had been buried in the
Valley of the Missouri. This is thus noticed by Agassiz, in
his work on Lake Superior. "It is a circumstance," we
are told by this acute observer, "quite extraordinary and unexpected that the fossil plants of the tertiary beds of CEnigen resemble more closely the trees and shrubs which grow
at present in the eastern parts of North America than those
of any other parts in the world, thus allowing us to express
correctly the difference between the' opposite coasts of
Europe and America, by saying that the present Eastern
American Flora, and, I may add, the Fauna also, have a
more ancient character than those of Europe. The plants,
especially the trees and shrubs, growing in our days in the
United States are, as it were, old-fashioned; and the characteristic genera, Lagomys, Chelydra, and the large Salamanders with permanent gills, that remind us of the fossils
of (Enigen, are at least equally so; they bear the marks of
former ages." And, on the same point, Hugh Miller says:
"Not only are we accustomed to speak of the Eastern
continents as the Old World, in contradistinction to the
great continent of the West, but to speak also of the world
before the Flood as the Old World, in contradistinction to
~ 80
123 
NEBRASKA BAD LANDS:
that postdiluvian world which has succeeded it. And yet,
equally, if we receive the term in either of its acceptations,
is America an older world still; an older world than that
of the Eastern continents; an older world, in the fashion
and type of its productions, than the world before the flood.
And when the immigrant settler takes ax amid the deep
back-woods, to lay open for the first time what he deems a
new country, the great trees that fall before him; the brushwood which he lops away with a sweep of his tool; the
unfamiliar herbs which he tramples under foot; the lazy
fishlike reptile that stirs out of his path as he descends to
the neighboring creek to drink; the fierce alligatorlike
tortoise, with the large limbs and small carpace, that he sees
watching among the reeds for fish and frogs, just as he
reaches the water, and the little harelike rodent, without a
tail, that he startles by the way, all attest, by the antiqueness of the mould in which they are cast, how old a country
the seemingly new one is, a country vastly older, in type
at least, than that of the antediluvians and patriarchs, and
only to be compared with that which flourished on the
eastern side of the Atlantic long ere the appearance of
man, and the remains of whose perished productions we find
locked up in the loess of the Rhine, or amid the lignites of
Nassau. America is emphatically the Old World."
~ 81. There is a peculiar emphasis in the teachings of the
Bad Lands as to the fact of the creation and extermination
of races now extant. "Every specimen as yet brought from
the Bad Lands," says Mr. Owen, "proves to be of species
that became exterminated before the mammoth and mastodon lived, and differ in their specific characters not only
124
~81 
PROOF OF CREATION.
fromn all living animals, but also from all fossils obtained
even from contemporaneous geological formations elsewhere."  In other words, the Bad Lands.record a miracle
with as sharp precision as do the first chapter of Genesis,
the fourth chapter of the Second Book of Kings, and tihe
eleventh chapter of John.   It is a creation, not by the ordinary process of generation, but by a divine fiat, of a new
family of living creatures.   The  calling of life into the
widow's child was not, by any means, so violent a disruption
of what philosophers call the laws of nature, as the awakening of a new period of animal life in the then untrodden
bottom of the Missouri.  Lazarus, rising from  his grave,
broke not so much in upon these same laws as the starting
up from his miry bed of the gigantic hornless rhinocerosthe Rhinoceros Nebrascencis, described by Dr. Leidy-who
was the Adam in that race whose last as well as whose first
members now lie in the eocene tertiary of the Bad Lands.
The record of such creations and extinctions as these is the
record of miracles as distinguished from history, which is
the record of the working of natural laws.  The latter narrates the march of second causes; the former, of first.  In
this view we have a most complete refutation of Mr. Hume's
famous position, that no human testimony can prove a
miracle, because, what is contrary to universal experience
cannot itself be shown by substantive proof.  The universal
experience of man, as he would argue, which establishes the
uniformity of animal generation, would exclude the reception of any evidence whatever of a creation by a direct
Divine interposition. But this is as if an insect, whose term
of life is a moment, and the history of whose race occupies
11*
~81
125 
GEOLOGY:
but half a day, should declare that the clock, whose ticking
sounds so sonorously in his tiny ears, and which, from the
memory of his remotest ancestors, never ceased to strike in
the same equal beats, is an institution of perpetual existence,
any deviation in whose course no evidence can be received
to prove. Tell him that at some remote period that clock
was wound up by extrinsic power, and he will tell you that
such a winding up is contrary to all insect experience, and
that he will hear nothing to prove it.
~ 82. Now, while human history details the ticking and
movements of the clock, as moved by its inner machinery,
the geological record notes its windings-up.   It presents to
us, not the details of intermediate life, but the epochs of
successive creations and extinctions.   It shows us the shadow of that august Presence as, from the secret chamber of
Hlis eternal purposes, Hle passed over the face of the earth
to create a new race in place of one that had run its course.
We can watch the awful solitude that covered all that then
existed of the now busy continent of North America. The
Alps were stiJl but low promontories, and the now fiery
head of Etna, not yet deserted by the waters which washed
into its crater, had not commenced to burn. The main land
of North America stopped at the East with the Alleghanies,
and the waters penetrated northward into the Valley of the
Mississippi, nearly to the mouth of the Arkansas. It was
in the Valley of the Missouri that life, in this early tertiary
period, first broke.  There, in the rank vegetation of the
river-bottom, and under the shade of mammoth trees,
among swamps, from which rose upward in all their coarse
strength, obelisklike reeds, or among terraces of immense
126
~ 82 
PROVING A CREATOR.
cone-bearing trees, and forests of ferns, - there, with
canines adapted to seize upon the fish with which the waters
were filled, and grinding teeth, like the elk, only vastly
larger, so as to cut through the huge vegetation, strode the
oreodon, a creature of an order between which and all
others a definite chasm exists, which nothing but a new
creative power could have passed. There were to be seen
mammalia of the lachydermal tribe, twenty feet in length
and ten in height, with massive scales on their backs, and
jaws five feet long, armed with teeth for grinding and cutting flesh and bone as well as for chewing cud. There, in
the semi-aqueous earth, waddled or wallowed huge turtles,
(Testudo Nebrascencis, Leidy,) gifted with amphibious
parts, which even now make the acute mind of Dr. Leidy
to hesitate as to the order to which they really belonged.
All of these species, with their contemporaries, preserve
their specific features from the beginning to the end
of this fossil history.   They  are identical with nothing
else, either before or after.  They begin with all their idiosyncrasies entire, and they end with them such.  The last
individual buried in this tertiary grave has the same features
as the first; but neither of them is the same as anything
else.  There is no intermediate stage, showing how they
developed out of some prior and simpler condition of animal life, or afterwards matured into something riper and
more complex. On the contrary, they leap, with their individuality complete, into existence, and leap, with their
individuality in like manner complete, out of it.  It is the
sharp and clear fiat: "AND GOD MADE THiE BEAST OF THIE
121
~ 82 
GEOLOGY:
EARTH AFTER MIS KIND.'   It is the history of a miracle
engraven by the Divine hand upon the perpetual rocks.
~ 83. It will be seen, therefore, that there is one other
error which these fossils confute: the theory of psychological development, so wildly flung out by Dr. Oken, as
well as that more artfully propounded by the author of
the "Vestiges of Creation."   No  lineage through prior
eras can be traced for the mammalia of Nebraska.  None
of them, or 1no approaches to them, have a place in the
secondary period of the geologists. When God created
them, to use the strong language of Sir Charles Lyell, He
threw away the die. The race was formed in a mould by
itself.   "There is nothing," to  adopt  the  language of
Agassiz, when applied to another class, "like parental
descent connecting them (the several periods.) The fishes
of the paleozoic age are, in no respect, the ancestors of the
reptiles of the secondary age, nor does man descend from
the mammals which preceded him in the tertiary age.
The link by which they are connected is of a higher and
immaterial nature; and the connection is to be sought in
the will of the Creator himself."
Of the continuity, and, at the same time, the identity of
the several families of the Nebraska mammalia, the perceptive sagacity of Dr. Leidy has furnished us with several
illustrations which meet the only objection which can be
urged to the theory of miraculous creation. In the Bad
Lands of Nebraska lie not occasional specimens of animals
swept there by some great estuary, but the remains of an
entire race.  They form the family burying-ground of the
128
~ 83 
PROVING A CREATOR.
early eocene tertiary.  There are to be traced, in their full
delicacy, all the modulations from childhood to maturity,
from maturity to old age. They venture to all the limits
of family variation, but they never venture out of it.  The
cub and the dam, the infant and the adult, the young rhinoceros, scarce able to sprawl on the ground, and the aged
parent, hardly strong enough on its crooked legs to support the weight of its armor-clad trunk, all lie, side by
side, in this vast mammal cemetery. And now, through
the skill of the comparative anatomist, we have not only
the picture of the individual, but the picture of the familygroup of young and old, infant and parent, as they sank
in the soft soil of the bottom of this ancient valley. Thus,
of a single animal, the Rhinoceros Nebrascencis, Dr. Leidy
gives us the plates of portions of no less than twelve
different  individuals.   We  have  the  "adult"  and  the
"nearly adult," the "very old," the "very young," the
"male," and the "female," as they browsed sometimes on
the club ferns of the bluffs, or pursued their fishy prey
below. We can draw, therefore, from these explorations
of the Bad Lands, more than one important truth. We
can learn that the graveyard into which we enter contains
remains not of stray individuals only, but of all contemporaneous neighboring creation.
~ 84. We learn that the members of this creation are
united by no lineage with periods that precede and follow
them. We learn that so skillful is the art of the comparative anatomist, that he is now able to distinguish between
even the phases of sex and age, and a fortiori would be capa
~ 84
129 
PROOF FROM GEOLOGY.
ble of tracing the deviation into a new species. We have,
therefore, the material to act upon, and the power to act.
And then, with this power, and this subject-matter, when we
lift the curtain and gaze upon these wonderful archives of geological scriptures, there opens upon us not merely the written truth that God created each living thing after his kind,
but the august reality of creation itself, begun, continued,
and closed by the Great First Cause in person.
130
~84 
RELATIONS OF GOD AND MAN.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RELATIONS OF GOD AND MAN AS DETERMINED BY
NATURAL THEOLOGY.
~ 85. a. IN the preceding chapters the following propositions may be considered as established:  a'. That there is an all-powerful God who seeks the
pleasure of His creatures.
bl. That this God is a sovereign, directing all things by
His will.
c1. That He governs by general laws.
d'. That besides this, He has established in each breast
a moral tribunal, armed with powerful sanctions,
for the purpose of directing right and prohibiting
wrong.
~ 86. b. On the other hand, it is clear that a comprehensive survey of the phenomena already examined brings before us the following apparently contradictory truths:
aL. That what appear gratuitous pain and sorrow are
often inflicted on the animal creation.
b6. That man is endowed with freedom of will and ac       tion, which, however, he frequently perverts to his
own ruin.
cl. That human conduct is to a great degree affected by
what are called "accidents," i.e. events not to be
accounted for by any general law.
~ 85-86
131 
RECONCILIATION OF DIFFICULTIES.
C.  RECONCILIATION  OF  THESE  APPARENT  CONTRADICTORIES.
al. The attemnpt to reconcile them by the hypothesis of
an imperfect Creator illogical.
~ 87. These supposed contradictions have been used to
prove the imperfection of the creative power. If a contrivance, it is argued, proves a contriver, so an imperfect
contrivance proves an imperfect contriver.
Now, there is a fallacy in the very statement of this proposition, which Dr. Johnson pointed out when touching
upon a kindred dogma. The line, "Who rules o'er freemen
should himself be free," was quoted in his presence; and he
disposed of it by the parody, "Who drives fat oxen should
himself be fat." It is not necessary that the ruler should
partake of the character of the ruled, or the creator of the
created. A glass-blower, for instance, may produce a thick
shingle of glass, for a roof, so tough and hard that it may
resist all blows, or he may produce a wide sheet which will
make an excellent mirror, but will crack if struck by a pebble. Now, if the mirror was intended for the roof, or the
roof for the mirror, we would infer an imperfect artificer;
but if they are each adapted to their specific purposes, we
can infer nothing more than a wise economy of means toward end. Before, therefore, determining whether the imperfectness of the machine proves the imperfectness of the
machinist, we must inquire for what the machine is meant.
~ 88. This same proposition may be further illustrated as
follows:-A river is let into a canal; at a distance of twenty
miles from the feeder the water is lost.   Now, this may be
attributed either to a deficiency in the original stream or a
132
~ 87-88 
MYSTERY OF MAN.
leak in the canal.  And the presumption that it is the latter,
increases as, on going nearer and nearer to the feeder, we
find the volume of water proportionally enlarge.
~ 89. Now it is remarkable that, in contemplating the great
area of the universe, the nearer we get to man the more
these irregularities and imperfections multiply: the farther
off we get the more they decrease. It would seem as it
God governs the inanimate creation through the vice-agency
of subalterns,"in the shape of second causes, whose letters
of instruction are known to all, while Hle commands mankind in person. The laws that control the former are open
to the observation of science; not so with the laws that
control the latter. The philosopher may tell where a comet
will drop a thousand years hence, but he cannot tell where
his own days will end. Hle can lay down the laws of celestial harmony, but not those of life and death. There seems
to be something about the moral atmosphere which surrounds man which excludes the entrance of these general
laws.
Rien n'est certain Que l'inprev t,
says a French proverb.   "There is nothing certain but the
unforeseen." An "'accidental" surfeit of pork so deranged
Napoleon I.'s stomach as to lose him the battle of Leipsic.
The "accidental" delay of an aid-de-camp lately saved Napoleon III.'s life.   History is but the analysis of "accidents," and biography their narrative.   As we come down
to domestic life, these interruptions of general law increase.
The movements of large bodies of men may'be determined
beforehand by law, but not the movements of individuals.
In ten thousand individuals we can positively say that there
~ 89
133
1 2 
RECONCILIATION:
will be ten who will die in a given period; but there is no
one to whom we can say, "this day one year, or ten years
hence, you will cease to exist."  No one who looks back on
the past will deny that by "chance," as distinguished from
"law," the main results of his history have been produced.
No one can look forward to the future and deny that it is
by the uncertain that it is to be controlled.*
~ 90. If, then, it is at the human end of the system that
this uncertainty exists; if, as we approach nearer man, these
laws yield more and more to irregularities, we are pointed
to an inquiry into the human constitution in order to see
whether an explanation of these apparent contradictions
may be found. We find the signals in the telegraph weakening as they reach a particular point, and we look to see
if there be a leakage at that point before we decide that
there is a defect in the electric fluid.   And this course
seems the more appropriate from the fact that, until other
methods of accounting for these defects fail, it seems unreasonable to charge the Creator of all things with imperfection.
bl. These apparent contradictions may be reconciled
by the following assumptions:  a2. 3ilan is in a state of exile from God.
~ 91. During the French Indian wars, a party of Indians
made an attack on a Moravian cottage in Northeastern
Pennsylvania, at the time of family worship, and succeeded in carrying off a little girl of three or four years of
age.   Season after season the parents of the child endeavored to discover her, but in vain. Ten years, however, had
* See post, ~ 213-14-15.
134
~ 90-91 
MAN AN EXILE.
passed, when it was reported that a white girl, very weatherbeaten and worn, had been captured from some Indians in
the neighborhood of Pittsburg.   The mother of the lost
girl proceeded there, but was unable to recognize in the
captive any traces of her own child.  At last she bethought
her of the hymn tune that was sung on the fatal evening of
the Indian descent.   She began to sing it, and at once the
mass of superincumbent rubbish on the child's memory was
removed.   The far past became the immediate present, and
the exile was recalled home.
There is something like this in the ordinary human consciousness. There are phenomena which it is hard to account for except on the supposition that man has a Heavenly
Father, but that from that Father's home he is now banished.
Hle speaks not, at least in his normal condition, the language of heaven, and yet that language awakens in him
strange memories. Even without revelation he worships an
unknown God.   He has memories, subtle and strange, that
call back the language of a lost home.   There is an almost
universal consciousness that a God exists, and yet there is a
feeling that the avenues to that God's throne are blocked.
So it is with all, from the polished Greek, who erects a
temple even to the deities of the stranger and the outcast,
to the rude Indian, who worships God in tree and wind.*
* Bishop Butler thus writes:-" That He is infinite in power,
perfect in wisdom and goodness, mankes no alteration, but only
that He is the object of these affections raised to the highest
pitchl. HIe is not, indeed, to be discerned by any of our senses.
Igoforwvrd, bu1t He is tot there; agdi backward, but I canetot
see Him: orb the left hard, where Itc dotht work, but I caninot be
~91
135 
IMAN AN EXILE.
~ 92. This banishment from God of man, does not, it is
submitted, arise from any inability of his merely intellectual
powers. These he possesses amply enough for even indefinite
comprehension; for time and space form no barrier to human
intellect. It takes, it is said, two millions of years for the rays
of the most distant of the recently discovered stars to reach
us; the human mind conceives of and pictures to itself such
a star in an instant.  And, to show the triumph of intellect over the material it uses, matter itself is. the agent by
which matter is to be subdued.   A  bit of glass, on the one
hand, expands an atom into worlds, and, on the other hand,
uncovers worlds to an atom.   Steel, in one form, carves on
stone, or traces on paper, or restores from the geological
record the history of remote ages; on the other, it brings
the thoughts of continents together in one common pulse.
Through this, century answereth to century; land to land;
sea to sea. When we see such an agency as this, indefinite
in its power of reaching over time and space, dropping
helpless at the mere approach to the throne of the Most
7o(1l Hem:   e 7i'det[7 flimself on the right hand, that I cannot
see Hin.  0 that I kneiw where I i7nght fiad Him! that I mig7t
come even to H;s seat! Job, xxii. But is He then afar off? Does
He not fill heaven and earth with His presence? The presence
of our fellow-creatures affects our senses, and our senses give us
the knowledge of their presence; which hath different kinds of
influence upon us: love, joy, sorrow, restraint, encouragement,
reverence. However, this influence is not immediately from our
senses, but from that knowledge. Thus, suppose a person neither
to s?e nor hear another, not to know by any of his senses, but yet
certainly to know that another was with him; this knowledge
might, and in many cases would, have one or more of the effects
before mentioned." —5rmon on the Love of Godl.
136
~ 92 
A MORAL FALL.
High; when we see how that avenue is covered with the
broken fragments of the speculations of intellects the boldest
and strongest, we may well believe that there has been here
some great disruption that has severed man from his God,
and driven him an exile from a heavenly home. It is as if,
by a deserted telegraph line, we see the posts fallen, and the
wires lying tangled and broken on the ground. We can
well believe that once the magnetic fluid passed through
that now broken wire. We can feel that the very point
where we now stand was once brought into immediate communication with the great centres of human society. Now,
however, all that remains is a broken instrument, incapable
itself of bearing a message, but significant of two great
truths: first, former capacity for communication; and,
second, a shock by which this capacity has been destroyed.
Now, are not these same phenomena observable in man?
Do we not see, first, the remains of former grandeur, the
traces of former communication and sympathy with God, of
a heart that throbbed in a reciprocal pulsation with that of
the Most High himself; and do we not see, also, evidence
of some great catastrophe by which this exquisite instrument was shattered? In other words, do we not find
here the base of two great propositions which will go a
great way toward solving these difficulties,-an original creation in holiness and in unison with God, and a subsequent
fall and perversion, followed by a judicial exile?*
* "Consider once more the religious aspirations' and capacities
of religious attraction that are garnered up, and still live in the
ruins of humanity. How plain it is, in all the most forward demonstrations of the race, that man is a creature of religion; a
12*
~ 92
137 
NATURE:
~ 93. Let  us take, for illustration, one of the several
topics which have been already discussed as exhibiting the
goodness and wisdom of God. Take the ocean, and view it
on one of its charts, and see how its face is marked with
dangerous shoals, with sunken rocks, with stormy coasts.
View, also, the iceberg; undoubtedly, as it sallies forth into
Southern seas, a great mitigator of tropical heat, and yet,
creature secretly allied to God himself, as the needle to the pole,
attracted toward God, aspiring consciously or unconsciously to
the friendship and love of God.   Neither is it true that, in his
fallen state, he has no capacity left of affection or religious attraction, till it is first new created in him. All his capacities of love
and truth are in him still, only buried and stifled by the smoldering ruin in which he lies. There is a capacity in him still to be
moved and drawn, to be charmned and melted by the Divine love
and beauty. The old affinity lives, though smothered in selfishness and lust, and even proves itself in sorrowful evidence when
he bows himself down to a reptile or an idol. Hle will do his
most expensive works for religion. There is a deep panting still
in his bosom, however suppressed, that cries inaudibly and sobs
with secret longing after God. Hence the sublime unhappiness
of the race. There is a vast, immortal want stirring on the world
and forbidding it to rest. In the cursing and bitterness, in the
deceit of tongues, in the poison of asps, in the swiftness to blood,
in all the destruction and misery of the world's ruin, there is yet
a vast insatiate hunger for the good, the true, the holy, the divine,
and a great part of the misery of the ruin is that it is so great a
ruin; a desolation of that which cannot utterly perish, and still lives,
asserting its defrauded rights and reclaiming its lost glories. And
therefore it is that life becomes an experience to the race so tragic
in its character, so dark and wild, so bitter, so incapable of
peace. The way of peace we cannot know-till we find our peace
where our immortal aspirations place it, in the fullness and the
friendly eternity of God"   Bs.Jh)?ell's Sermons on the,Vet)
L:fe, p. 63.
138
~ 93
k 
A  CHIIASTISER.
at the same time, as with its comrades it issues in grim procession from its fastnesses in the North, a remorseless devastator of whatever life or wealth it may happen to strike.
In the silence and calm of a windless and currentless sea
these gaunt and awful marauders of the ocean march onward, impelled, as it would seem, by some interior energy
that propels them  by its elemental force.   The motive
power, in fact, is one of those under-currents so essential to
the due purification of the sea, which strikes the submerged
base of the iceberg, generally so much greater than its glittering heights, and drives it onward with such tremendous
power.  It would seem as if these giant corsairs from the
North are drawn by the force of currents to a special rendezvous at the "great bend," near latitude 43~.   iere, touching the edge of the Gulf Stream, some of the most beneficent forces in Nature combine to invest them with peculiar
peril. When under full head, a steamship would be overtaken by them, and woe to that vessel wh ch comes into
collision with their brilliant but pitiless bulwarks. Among
the numberless vessels that have thus fallen may be placed
two of the finest that modern skill has constructed-the
President and the Pacific.
~ 94. Let us take another illustration from the same
quarter. The vessel bound from England to the Capes of
the Delaware or Chesapeake is "met by snow-storms and
gales which mock the seaman's strength and set at naught
his skill.  In a little while his bark becomes a mass of ice;
with her crew frosted and helpless, she remains obedient
only to her helm, and is kept away for the Gulf Stream.
After a few hours' run, she reaches its edge, and, almost at
139
~ 94 
.MORAL DISCIPLINE
the next bound, passes from the midst of winter into a sea
at summer-heat.   Now the ice disappears from her apparel;
the sailor bathes his stiffened limbs in tepid waters; feeling
himself invigorated and refreshed with the genial warmth
about him, he realizes, out there at sea, the fable of Antaeus
and his mother earth.  Hle rises up and attempts to make
his port again, and is again as rudely met and beaten back
from the northward; but each time that he is driven off
from the contest, he comes forth from this stream, like the
ancient son of Neptune, stronger and stronger, until, after
many days, his freshened strength prevails, and he at last
triumphs and enters his haven in safety; though in this
contest he sometimes falls to rise no more, for it is often
terrible. 3iany ships annually founder in these gales. "*
It is the same wherever man and the inanimate creation
come in contact. Nature bears, it is true, the horn of plenty
in the one hand, but she carries in the other the rod of discipline.  The coal mine yields up its inexhaustible stores,
but below issues a gas ready to poison or explode,  and
above beetles the earth, ready to fall in and bury.  Mr.
HIuskisson is torn to pieces on a railway, which his clear
head and resolute purpose led him to be foremost to appreciate and carry through; the great gun of the Princeton, exhibited as one of the first products of mechanical art,
bursts and destroys the chief of the very department under whose auspices the exhibition was made. Iron, proclaimed by the late Francis Horner to be the chief engine
of modern civilization, is the great agency which pro
* Maury's Geog. of the Seas.
140
~ 94 
PROVING A FALL.
duces by far the greater  proportion of violent deaths.
Even climate, while it marches forward, sowing the seeds of
life, carries also a scythe by which, in the moist winds of
spring, the sultry heats of summer, the bitter storms of
winter, multitudes are swept into their graves.
~ 95. The inquiry then colnes, is there anything in the
character of man, the only agent existing on the face of
the earth as the subject of moral discipline, which can explain phenomena such as have been noticed? Let it be
remembered that the analogies of science lead us to this
very kind of inquiry.   If the comparative anatomist, for
instance, discovers an anomalous bone, he does not declare that here is an evidence of imperfection or caprice oi
the part of the Creator, but he looks to the properties of
the specimen, and judges of the remainder of the animal
by the peculiarities he thus observes.   "This," he decides,
"is the part of an animal that is granivorous; that of one
that is carnivorous." So it is with respect to the physical
properties which certain atmospheres engender. We look
at Jupiter, and, as we observe the tremendous pressure of
the gravitation which bears upon his bottomless seas and his
light soil, we conclude that, if he be populated at all, it must
be by animals light of weight and strong of muscle. We
turn to Saturn, and when we observe that his density is
scarcely above that of cork, and that the amount of light
and heat that reaches him is only a nineteenth of that of
the earth, we conclude that his inhabitants, if possessed of
the same type of organization as our own, must have the
senses manifold more acute, and the sensibilities to the same
degree more obtuse.  We turn to Mars, and, as we find that
~ 95
141 
MAN'S EXILE
the gravity at his surface is only half of that with us, we
make allowance for a double bulk on the part of those who
dwell amid the sparkling snows which astronomers have
been able to detect at his poles, or under the sultry clouds
that float around his equator.   In other words, instead of
judging of the Creator from a section of the thing created,
as some of those who have drawn these very conclusions
would ask us to do, we judge of the thing created from
such properties placed about it by the Creator as we are
able to accept as a basis of examination.
~ 96. Let us suppose that an inhabitant of one of these
planets, after witnessing the scarred and corrugated moral
atmosphere of our own globe; after seeing only fissures of
sunlight through lowering banks of clouds; after seeing
how crushingly grief or oppression gravitates the heart
downward in one place, and how genially home and social
influences unite in another to cheer and elevate it, and yet
how certainly these influences are, sooner or later, destroyed;
what would an intelligent observer be likely to conclude
with regard to the moral character of those to whom this
atmosphere was adjusted? Would not such an observer,
after witnessing these phenomena, and noticing the marks of
Divine wisdom and love rising superior to the whole, conclude that man is in a state of exile from God, continued on
his part voluntarily, and accompanied by severe penaltiesthat home is meant to teach, and not to worshlip-and that
all the mechanism of Nature is so adapted as to instruct and
discipline, but, at the same time, to prepare for another
life?
~ 97. b'. The human  heart, so far from) mnaintaining a
142
~ 96-97 
GOD'S JUDGMENTS.
com?m?)iunion with God, is inclined more and miore to place
its affections on things earthly.
Why else is it that life is made so short? Why is it that
while there may be special "runs of luck," as they are
called, the longest and most fortunate of lives meets, sooner
or later, with its heavy cross, or, if that cross come not,
goes at last naked out of that world where its attire was so
splendid,-goes from the home of luxury to the cold and
loathsome grave?  How can we account for the inadhesive?ess, as it were, of all earthly good,-for that quality which
apparently intervenes to loosen and break off the attach ments of man to whatever those attachments cling? Does
not this  discipline of affliction, - of disappointment, of
casualty, of wind and storm, of earthquake and blight, of
disease and pestilence,-does not this discipline, viewed
from the stand-point thus taken, demonstrate a settled tendency toward the idolatry of human wealth and comfort on
the part of those to whose moral standard this system is
adapted? We visit a lunatic asylum, or a prison, and judge
of the character of the inmates from the character of the
restraints placed on them.   "This man," we say, if we
start with proof aliunde of the benevolence and wisdom of
the government of the institution, "has a temper violent and
ungovernable; this is gentle but melancholy. Restraints
we find in one place; encouragements in another." Maay
we not say the same, when we view the system of mingled encouragements and restraints with which the world
abounds?
~ 98. c'2. There is a future retribution which demands
that the free agency of those subject to it should remain
~98
143 
MAN HELPLESS WITHOUT GOD.
unimpaired, while there are such general influences about it
as will promote patience, submission, and earnest endeavor.
It would have been practicable to have created a groove
out of which human purpose could not run. We can
suppose such an observer as we have described, could he
see a compulsory mechanism which would exact a specific
course and no other, declare, " Here are no moral agents;
these are automata who are as much the creatures of positive
control as are the stars in their orbits." But when he observes
the moral atmosphere around man, his opinion would greatly
change.  "Here," he would say, "is an agency, not to compel, but to invite patience and energy.  Here comes the
spring, with its slow vegetation, interrupted by occasional
frosts and storms, but at the same time showing how industry and endurance will bring forth the tardy crop. Here
comes the storm at sea, admonishing man how incompetent
are science and skill to secure an always favorable voyage.
Here are varied elements, such as climate and soil, combining to preserve individuality, to excite energy, to counsel
submission."  Under so artificially constructed a system of
influences such as these,-not powers,-there must dwell a
moral agent, and one whose destiny corresponds in its
grandeur to the splendid apparatus of which this system
consists.
~ 99. d2. These disciplinary influences, however, are
insufficient without the special Divine aid.
Let such an observer, for instance, view such a storm
as that which destroyed the  San  Francisco.   Let him
notice the sublime and awful spectacle produced by the
crash of thunder, the fierce swell of the billows, the vio
~99
144 
WRITTEN REVELATION.
lence of the wind.  Or let him pass to those cities that
have been desolated by the plague, or to those scenes of
Eastern torture, such as the Black Hole of Calcutta, where
death in its most appalling shapes is slowly pressed into a
mass of human beings.  If he reverse the process of inquiry,
he will find that while such scenes produce with some awe
and submission, with others they generate a fierce and brutal
despair. The scenes of lust and outrage on board the sink ing San Francisco; of levity in Florence during the plague,
as depicted by Boccaccio in his Decameron; of pillage in
London and Philadelphia under similar circumstances, as
described by De Foe and Charles Brockden Brown,-go to
show that without some special spiritual influence, even the
most awful of material phenomena would fail of their effect.
While, therefore, the visible creation is made to bear its
part in the aid of human probation, the work is not one of
mechanical constraint, but room remains for the distinct
and special introduction, under conditions consistent with
probation, of Divine aid.
~ 100. e2. A written revelation, as a final educationary
process, is a priori probable under such a dispensation.
God, we may assume from the phenomena of the material universe, is equally unlimited in His command of
resources, and in His capacity for comprehensive as well as
for particular government. The elaboration of the minutest
atom, and the comfort of the humblest form of animal life,
are no more below His providence than the pre-arrangement
of the spheres above it.  His administration, as has been
further shown, is one of general laws written on the skies
and earth. He has not thought it beneath Him to engrave
13
~ 100
145 
WRITTEN REVELATION
on the rocks, in letters which myriads of years have not
effaced, the history of the successive miracles by which He
filled the earth with organic life. It is not a priori improbable, therefore, that He should lay down laws for the moral
government of a race for whose physical interests He has
shown such a tender concern, nor that He should place these
laws on record. He is like a father, whose children, emigrating we may suppose to a distant colony, where they must
necessarily be dependent on their own energies for support,
stand peculiarly in need of that advice which their father's
superior wisdom can best give. What so likely as that such a
father, knowing how fluctuating is memory, and how liable
it is to be modified by passion or interest, should place in
writing that information as to their history and ultimate
destiny, and those precepts for their government, which
their necessities require? And is not this presumption
strengthened when we discover throughout the narrative of
this father's relations to his children, the traces of a mind
not only eminently systematic and law-loving, but prone to
register for his children's study, even though a most complicated mechanism be required for the purpose, those laws
and systems by which his own conduct is governed?
This view is strengthened when we turn toward the condition and constitution of man.   He is, as has just been
seen, incapable of self-renovation. The world in which he
lives has been said to be a temple desecrated by sin; and if
so, how sad must be his fate, who, as the sole moral agency
in this world, stands as it were by the altar to which the
aisles of this vast but sin-desolated pile converge. Inadequate to the work of restoring either himself or the splendid
146
~ 100 
A PRIORI PROBABLE.
ruin in which he dwells; not only corrupt himself but corrupting even the traditions of truth that he retains, what so
natural as that the loving and Almighty Father who placed
him  here,-that  law-loving and law-recording Father,should not merely give him spiritual solace and instruction,
but should so perpetuate that solace and instruction that
they may be preserved uncorrupted and intact. That such
a revelation, incorporating the laws necessary for the government of the human race, should be written, the analogies of
man's nature seem to indicate.  Men, in all their variations
of race and family, resort to writing as the best means of
giving permanency to their own laws, and recording their
own thoughts. The dangers, which the experience of society
proves, of the perversion or the loss of mere oral tradition,
would enter into the governmental calculations of an intelligent observer, to say nothing of an omniscient  God.
What, then, would be more likely than for such a God, in
speaking to such a race, to use such a medium as would be
most consistent with His wisdom and tenderness, and their
infirmities?
"But," it may be objected, "if this be true, a written revelation would have been coeval with the human race." But
can we apply the tests of time to a being who is unconditioned by time? And is it not plain, if we are to judge
from cosmical history, that the plan of the Divine Architect
of the universe is to introduce successively improving periods
by terraces or grades, adopting neither on the one hand a
simultaneous and complete production, nor on the other a
gradual development? The earth was first created without
form and void. Then a rough and drossy scum writhed
~ 100
147 
WRITTEN REVELATION
and quivered over the molten ocean beneath. Then, as
this scum toughened into a crust, it was fractured by fissures
through which burst volcanic fires showering upward torrents of fused rock and metal afterwards to harden into
mountains.   Thousands of years passed before the fat alluvial soil began to cover this skeleton of bone and iron;
thousands of years more before life appeared in the flood or
on the fast land; thousands of years more before we find
the vestiges of man.  It is not for us to seek a reason for
this, to us, slow dignity in the march of the Divine purpose.
It may be, it is true, that of the Almighty, to whom time and
space are nothing, the patient majesty and the rising cycles of
laws, may be an essential attribute in the progress of His
own administration as well as in the education of His rational
creatures. But be this as it may, the analogy of God's dealings with the material creation leads us to suppose a priori
that the dispensations by which He would communicate His
solaces and directions to man would be in a progressive
series, and not in a revelation complete at its first utterance.   The educational processes of revelation would be
likely to correspond with those of natural religion in the
terracelike ascents by which they would rise in completeness. Mlan as a race, as it is with man as an individual, would
have several distinct class-books of instruction.   At first
he would receive, though with powers as yet incapable of
precise perception, the communications of his God and
Father speaking inarticulately at a period when the forms of
language were unknown.   Then we can suppose an era of
tradition, until the moment when through the infirmities
and corruptions of our nature these traditions would lose
148
~ 100 
A PRIORI PROBABLE.
their virtue. Then we can suppose an education by example
and precept, not directly, for this would hamper moral
agency, and be at variance with the analogy of civil society,
but through a specific order or nation, who, favored with
greater religious light, (as in all times there have been nations favored with greater intellectual light and geographical advantages,) could become a medium for the religious
tuition and enlightenment of others. Then next we may
suppose a written revelation.   Such a series of dispensations would be at least not at variance with the divine policy
as developed in cosmical history.  And yet this series is no
more than what we find in the Patriarchal, the Jewish, and
the Christian economies.*
But, it may be further objected, that this position proves
too much, for it goes to show that written revelation, lik~e
the dispensations of the material world, is subject to a gradual development, and hence that the Romish view of traditional and progressive interpretation is correct.  But the
answer to this is complete. If the analogy is worth anything, it goes to show that these dispensations rise, to carry
out an illustration already given, not as a slope, but as a
series of terraces.   "It is a truth which I consider now as
proved," says Agassiz,t  "that the ensemble of organized
beings was renewed not only in the interval of each of the
great geological divisions which we have agreed to term
formations, but also at the time of the deposition of each
* See on this point, post, 1 173.
I' Twelfth Report of British Association, p. 85.  See also ante,
24 3 0-40.
~ 100
149
13* 
WRITTEN REVELATION
particular member of all the formations. I cannot admit
the idea of the transformation of species from one formation
to another." And so a very recent and capable observer,
already quoted,* tells us that "species did not pass into
one another by transmutation, but that each species was
introduced in full perfection, remained unchanged during
the term of their existence, and died in full perfection."
"As far as the evidence of geology extends, each species
was introduced by the direct miraculous interference of a
personal intelligence. There has indeed been a constantly
increasing series, but the connection between the terms of
the series has not been physical or genetic, but intellectual;
not founded in the laws of reproduction, but in the eternal
counsels of the Almighty." What we would be led by
geological analogy to believe would be that each specific
dispensation (e.g. the written) would remain intact and
unprogressive, until the same miraculous power that called
it into existence should, by the same supernatural interposition and attestation, replace it by another.  The clouded
gloss of language may be removed, and the creature may see
the Creator face to face. But this will not be by any gradual
self-clarifying power of the text, nor by the action of the
human reader, but by the direct and miracle-attested agency
of the Almighty Himself, as preliminary to a new and final
stage of existence.t
I have now brought this inquiry as far as the limits of
natural religion permit me to go. But the practical ques
* Professor Le Conte, Srnithsonibn Instit. Rep. 1857, p. 168.
t See post, L 227.
150
~ 100 
A PRIORI PROBABLE.
tion remains, if there be a written revelation, can this be
anything else than the Christian Scriptures?
If the propositions which have been stated in this chapter
may be fairly inferred from the phenomena of creation,-if,
in other words, it be considered as thus established that man
is in a state of exile from his God,-that the human heart,
so far from maintaining a communion with God, is inclined
more and more to place its affections on things earthly,
that the soul is reserved for a high future destiny, which demands that its free agency should remain unimpaired, but
that there should be such influences about it as to educate
it to patience, to submission, and to earnest endeavor,-that
these disciplinary influences, however, are insufficient without special divine aid,-we are able to find not merely an
explanation of but a reason for that very union of general
laws with special providences,-of blessings with warnings, of beneficence with discipline, of sunshine with
storm,-by which the operations of the material world are
marked.   Such a view, in fact, only completes the proof of
that adaptation of cause to effect, and of that beneficent and
general contrivance, which even when viewed in their merely
material relations, go so far to establish the existence, the
wisdom, the mercy, and the justice of God.
~ 100
151 
BOOK SECOND.
SKEPTICAL THEORIES.
CHAPTER I.
"AN IMPERFECT CREATOR."
~ 101. AN imperfect creation, it is said, argues an imperfect Creator. The logical force of this position has been
already noticed.* It will further be examined under the
following heads:
a. INABILITY OF THiE FINITE TO MEASURE.
~ 102. We stand, for instance, at the centre of one of
our great Western prairies. We look at the distant horizon, and discover on it lines which appear to us, as in sharp
precision they stand lup against the vivid sky, like the castellated roof of a Gothic mansion. As we approach, the
object gradually loses its architectural precision, and subsides, perhaps, into a low range of hills, perhaps into a
* Ante, ~ 87.
~ 101-102
400 -
(152) 
" AN IMPERFECT CREATOR." 
series of cabins. On the other hand, under a less luminous
atmosphere, the building of real splendor and beauty may,
in the distant view, appear but as a hovel.
This is still more striking in the opinions we form
of questions of possibility which are not within the range
of visual observation.   Many men of science scouted at the
idea of crossing the Atlantic by steam: some men of science
believed in the pretended moon discoveries of Locke. One
of the most agreeable of our French North American explorers tells us a story of an Indian council which illustrates
this. A young brave had been sent to Washington to confer
with the Great Father. He returned, with a remarkable account of witches and wizards whom he had seen in endless processions in the East. All this was listened to with profound respect and confidence. Hle went on, however, to addthat, among
other things, he had observed a canoe sailing in the air with a
ball of wind on top of it. At once the demeanor of his audience
changed, and it being pronounced that so great a liar ought
not to live, the narrator was forthwith shot. A Japanese
king, we are told, was almost equally demonstrative of his
disapproval of those who told him that in England water
became solid in cold weather. Herodotus narrates-with all
the gossiping vivacity of the most satisfied credulitystories of monsters, dwarfs, giants, cannibals, of beasts that
were three-quarters men, and men wholly beasts; of rivers
that were scarcely less than oceans, and of palaces that were
greater than pyramids. But, at the same time, after relating the observation of the Pilcenician mariners, that in
doubling what is now the Cape of Good Hope they had the
meridian sun on the north, the same historian, himself not
153
~ 102 
SKEPTICAL THEORIES.
the least philosophical of his order, says, "anybody else
may believe this, but to me it is perfectly incredible." To
those who look upon such confusions of belief with unbelief,
as the accompaniments of a primitive or barbaric state, it is
only necessary to point out the period when the most cultivated people of the seventeenth century persecuted those
who would not believe in witches, and those who would believe that the earth revolved round the sun.
~ 103. This imperfection of vision is a necessary incident
of that limitation which, as will presently be seen, belongs
to created things. This is admirably illustrated in the following remarks by Dr. Ferguson:-" If the human fcetus
were qualified to reason of his prospects in the womb of his
parent, as he may afterwards do in his range on this terrestrial globe, he might no doubt apprehend in the breach of
his umbilical cord, and in his separation from the womb, a
total extinction of life, for how could he conceive it to continue after his only supply of nourishment from the vital
stock of his parent had ceased? He might indeed observe
many parts of his organization and frame which would
seem to have no relation to his state in the womb.   For
what purpose, he might say, this duct which leads from the
mouth to the intestines? Why these bones that each apart
become hard and stiff, while they are separated from one
another by so many flexures or joints? Why these joints
in particular made to move upon hinges, and these germs of
teeth, which are pushing to be felt above the surface of the
gums? Why the stomach through which nothing is made
to pass? And these spongy lungs, so well fitted to drink
up the fluids, but into which the blood that passes every
154
~ 103 
" AN IMPERFECT CREATOR. "
where else is scarcely permitted to enter? To these queries,
which the fcetus was neither qualified to make nor to answer,
we are now well apprised the proper answer would be: The
life which you now enjoy is but temporary; and those particulars which now seem to you so preposterous, are a provision which Nature has made for a future course of life
which you have to run, and in which their use and propriety
will appear sufficiently evident."*
~ 104. This analogy might be pushed so as to give materials from which, by a very simple induction, we may draw
the proposition, that in our present limited and probationary
state the imperfection of our vision is such as to prevent us
from comprehending at any period the conditions of any
subsequent stage through which we are to pass. The boy
sees not the trials he will have to encounter as a man, and
when he is told of struggles and defeats ahead, he turns
from the scene as belonging to a distinct existence. The
man of mature years sees not before him the picture of his
own frame slowly descending the path that leads to the
grave.  He listens, perhaps, to the story of affliction, but he
comprehends it not until the crushing grief at last comes.
Then there is an almost infinite depth of experience opened to
him of which before he knew only by the memorials erected
by others on its outer surface.  It is this that gives to old
ag,e what is so often a stony and unsympathizing wisdoma wisdom not so remarkable for its practical value as for its
apparently supernatural detachment from the concerns of
active life. And yet, even this wisdom, when merely human,
* See Conybeare's Theol. Lect., pp. 81, 82.
~, 104
155
.1 
INFINITUDE INCOMPREHENSIBLE.
has its range of observation closed by the tomb.  Every life
is thus divided into stages separated by periods through
which the vision does not pass. We cannot comprehend,
when in childhood, the conditions which in manhood will
take us from love of pleasure to the pursuit of wealth and
honor; we cannot comprehend in manhood the conditions which in old age will make us seek rest; we cannot,
on this side of the grave, comprehend the conditions which
will surround us in a future world. We only know that we
are proceeding onward by progressive periods of development, and, like the traveler ascending a mountainous range by
a series of terraces, we at the moment see only the particular sweep before us, thinking that to be the last ascent, and
observing not the next, until we find that what appeared the
summit is only the base of another rise.
The imperfection of our finite faculties should thus ever
be kept in view when we undertake to determine on the appropriateness of the plans of the Eternal and Infinite; and
this view is strengthened by the additional important fact
that our nature is so constituted as to confine its powers of
actual comprehension to the conditions belonging to it at
the particular moment.* It will be presently shown that this
limitedness of vision is a necessary incident of probation.t
b. INCAPACITY OF THIE INFINITE FOR MEASUREMENT.
~ 105. Let us take one of the extremest cases that can be
afforded us of physical evil. Let us observe a lifetime of
patient suffering, harrowed, it may be, by poverty, by lingering disease, by loss of friends. Let us imagine this life to
* See post, 245.
156
~ 105
t Post,  109. 
INFINITY INCOMPREHENSIBLE.
be protracted far beyond the ordinary limits, and the ex quisiteness of its appreciation of distress refined far beyond
the usual bound. But what then? Next comes the grave,
and then eternity. It is as if we should be summoned before a gigantic counter, on which stand the scales of the
universe. On one side we find this life of misery, which
may be represented by a weight of any degree of definite
immensity that may be chosen. But then comes the other
scale. There come mountains upon mountains of weight,.
each in turn waiting to be calculated, and each forming part
of an infinite range behind. The question is not whether
this particular life's grief is to be outweighed by the infinite
counter-balances of eternity. -For this is done before the
process of outweighing is even begun.   The scale never
even begins to quiver.  If we adapt such a process of measurement to our own standards, it is as if we dropped into
one pan a grain so imperceptible as not even to overcome
the friction of the pivot, while an indefinite number of other
weights stood ready on the other to be interposed.
Incomprehensibility is an essential attribute in the infinite.
When it is comprehended, it becomes finite. There is always,
as has been noticed, an indefinite extension of time beyond
the period at which we stand, and this indefinite extension
of time forms material amply compensatory for any irregularity.  Nor  does tiime come in alone for this purpose.
There is also an indefinite compensatory medium in space.
A globule, for instance, to the unarmed vision of the ancient
sages appeared a mystery; and the best they'could do was
to declare that here the animated creation ceased.  The
milky-way, to the astronomers of old, was a desert of the
14
~ 105
157 
RELIGION PRACTICAL:
skies, whose dreary wastes were only traversed by those nomadic comets whose fierce retinues were regarded as carrying destruction wherever they swept. But the globule, under
the microscope, is now a new world of life,-through the
telescope the milky-way is a city of planets, and the tails of
comets are nothing more than impalpable mists.
Let us look, again, at the fact of disturbance, which, when
it was first observed, was supposed to interfere with the application of Newton's great law of gravitation to the heavenly system. But it was soon found that this disturbance
of the motion of the planets, which arose from their mutual
attraction, and which was looked upon as threatening
some great convulsion, was compensated for by a provision
made specially to counteract it.  It required, however, all
the present perfection of the telescope to show that this
aberration is part of the celestial harmony, not a deviation
from it. What right have we, then, to say that when a
keener vision enables us to see the ultimate bearing of
these difficulties, they will not, in like manner, vanish?
~ 106. Religion, in fact, comes to teach us practice, not
speculation-duty, not philosophy.  For reasons not given
to us, but perhaps from the fact that if it taught the latter
instead of the former, the great work of a hardy, earnest,
faith-depending probation, would sink into a dreamy idealization, or an inexorable fatalism,-religion, both natural
and revealed, confines itself to practical teaching.   Man,
when set down in this life to his work of probation, is like
an emigrant who goes forth to settle in one of the territories
of our Western frontier.  It is desired, we may assume, to
furnish him with such facilities as will be most likely to make
]58
~ 106 
NOT SPECULATIVE.
him an effective farmer. TWe will suppose him, with a party
of other colonists, to be placed on one of the islands of
verdure which intersperse the arid plains that are divided
by the River Platte. A government survey has lately been
made of that remarkable region, and so much of this is
handed to himi as will enable him to discharge his particular
work.  Information as to the character of the soil and climiate is placed in his hands. The soundings and courses
of the sluggish river by whose side he is seated-those of
the impetuous Missouri into which it runs-are laid before
him as important in showing where and how his produce is
to find a market. But beyond this immediate locality and
those with which it is brought in business contact it is not
necessary to supply him  with details.   There are many
reasons why it would not be desirable for him to take with
him a topographical survey of the entire universe.   One is,
that it would be so cumbrous that he could not carry it;
another is, that if he undertook to study it, it would leave
him no time for farming; another is, that the speculative
habit which, if so employed, he might acquire, would unfit
him for the humbler work of tilling the ground. It is true,
there is a great deal that is incomprehensible in the phenomena about him, but nothing that is so is of a character
whose explanation would facilitate his farming.  Ile may or
may not know what is the true source of the Mississippi.
It is enough for him to know where he can most conveniently strike that river, and to what markets it will carry his
produce. Photographs of the stars, such as science is now
producing, might form interesting objects of curiosity, or of
philosophical speculation, but may be postponed to an
~ 106
I,,') 9 
INCOMIPREHENSIBILITY,
almanac, giving him the rising and setting of the sun, and
the most concise and appropriate informiation as to the crops
to be planted in his immediate locality. What lie would be
furnished by those who wished him well in his new enterprise, would be information as to the field he has to work,
and the duties expected of him in connection with it.
~ 107. Now what we would expect man to do, supposing
him to act kindly and beneficiently to his fellow-man, we
may well expect from the Divine Ruler of the universe,
under similar circumstances.  As  the chart of universal
knowledge is in His hands, and as that chart is infinite,
there must be some portions of it which, in submitting it to
a finite creature, must be withdrawn. Man, with his threescore years and ten, could not go through a course of study
which would take him an eternity. A certain portion must
be therefore selected for his aid, and what so fit as that
which relates to the practical duties incumbent on him in
the special period of time in which he is placed? He will
be told his duty toward his God and his duty toward his
neighbor,-he will be taught, through the phenomena of the
seasons, of the earth and the seas, the importance of faith,
of patience, of industry, of doing to his fellow-man as he
would be done by, and of reverence to his God. But there
will be a horizon somewhere, and we would expect that
the horizon would be placed just where the practical passes
to the speculative.   Of course, as in the map of the county
or state placed in the emigrant's hands, the sources of the
larger rivers are left out; so in the guide-b)ook of the emigrant
in this world of probation, there is a great deal in the causes
~ 107
160 
NO GROUND FOR DISBELIEF.
of things existing, and in the reasons for prescribed duties,
which will pass beyond the limits of observation.
A priori, therefore, this incapacity of the infinite  for
comprehension, is what we would expect from the nature of
the work in which man is in this life concerned.
C. SUPPOSING, HOWEVER, SUCIH IMPERFECTIONS TO EXIST.
~ 108. al. They cannot overcome the positive evidence
of Almlighty wisdom and goodness.
Cotton  Mather  tells us that  he preserved his equa nimity by keeping two heaps in his mind, one for the
incomprehensible, and the other for the incurable.  If a
friend treated him unjustly, and he had no opportunity of
explanation, he took the offence off the surface of his sensibilities, where it might perhaps be acting with corrosive
mischief, and placed it at once in the heap of the incomprehensibles.  If the whole thing was a mistake, of course he
took it off this heap altogether and dismissed it from his
possession.  If, on the other hand, he found it was an intended and unjustifiable insult, he took it from the heap of
incomprehensibles and placed it among the incurables.
Either way it was not permitted to vex his feelings or disturb those general principles of conduct which he had previously deliberately adopted with regard to the temper in
which he was to regard his fellow-men.
Now the temper in which we are to regard God may be
governed by the same rules.  Let us take at the outset a
comprehensive view of creation, and see whether we can
draw from it any settled conclusions as to God's nature and
attributes.   When we have done this, let us recollect that
14*
~ 108
161 
IMPERFECTIONS:
what is inconprehensible, cannot be received to disturb
what is positive. And this position is one which in science
we do not hesitate to accept.  Thus the existence of an unexplained interruption of the sidereal system is not permitted
to shake our belief in the Copernican system.   It makes no
difference that the interruption is inexplicable. Thus aerolites, or masses of iron or iron-stone, falling from the sky, of
all sizes, from several hundred weight to a few ounces, have
been cast on the earth in various places with such velocity
as sometimes to bury them deep into the soil. Whence or
how they come, is inexplicable. No rational solution of it
has as yet been approached.  And yet no astronomer, on
account of this unexplained phenomenon, will allow his belief in the harmony of the celestial phenomenon to be disturbed.
~ 109. bl. They are reconcilable with the Divine perfections.
This may be the proper place to notice the theories
of the reconciliation of evil with the Divine perfections
which come to us with the greatest philosophical weight.
Let it be observed, at the outset, that the inquiry is in a
great measure irrelevant, since the incomprehensibility of
the topic, leaving it to stand unexplained, forms no ground,
as has just been seen, to dispute the positive evidence of
Divine wisdom of Goodness:  "But," says Dr. Chalmers,
"an hypothesis might subserve a great logical purpose in
theology. And accordingly the one framed by Leibnitz
respecting the origin of evil, even though admitted to no
higher rank than a mere unsupported imagination, may yet
be of force to nullify all the objections wherewith this topic
162
~ 109 
~ 110     RECONCILABLE WITII A PERFECT GOD.
is conceived to be pregnant, and so as to leave in their undiminished strength all these affirmative props on which the
system of theology is based." This hypothesis, with those
of a kindred purpose which have been most prominently
before the philosophical mind, will now be noticed.
~ 110. a2. Evils and imperfections are necessary to
moral agency.
b'. They are ordained of God, as forming part of a
scheme, of all others the best and most perfect.
These two points may be considered together. It is
assumed that out of all possible schemes, God chose that
which on the whole was best,-that to this scheme moral
agency is a necessary incident,-that to moral agency a
liability to temptation,* if not a certainty of sin, is essential.
God has the POSSIBLE, in all its modifications, open before
Him, and He chooses that phase which of all the others is
best.  This scheme, as enforced by the scientific genius of
Leibnitz, the rhetorical opulence of Chalmers, the logical
energies of Jonathan Edwards, has been the base on which
theologians of far divergent schools have founded their speculations. We may well pause for a moment, therefore, to
consider on what it rests, and how far it goes.t
* Between "liability to temptation," and "certainty of sin," a
distinction has been taken which, as will presently be seen, divides
two theological schools.
f The most philosophical exposition of this position comes
from Leibnitz, who, even by the skeptics, is ranked as the first philosopher of his age, while among Christians his orthodoxy is unimpeached. Both sides, therefore, defer to him, the one testifying
to his capacity in the search for truth, the other to his integrity
in its deliverv.  Hle had indeed a splendid as well as a well-poised
163
h 
OPTIMISM:
~ 111. The proposition may be illustrated, taking in the
aid of the only class of analogies open to us,-those drawn
intellect; and though his almost universal genius laid him under
tribute to all the great controversies of his times, and though he
therefore was unable to leave behind him any complete treatise
on any single branch, yet the sparks incidentally generated by
him in the heat of controversy, or in the ardor of special investi gation, often throw out an illumination more complete than that
which the concentrated energies of the lives of less extraordinary
men were able to produce.
According to Leibnitz, the divine contemplation must neces sarily, from all eternity, have included all possible forms of cosmi cal existence. To that infinite eye, which embraces the conjectural
as well as the real, all combinations of worlds were presented, in
each of which the elements of good and evil were mingled in
proportions always distinct but always such as to reach the com mon result. From these forms that of the present universe was
selected, as that on which the character of good was most impressed.  "God then is not the author of the essences so long as
they are but possibilities-but there is nothing actual which He
has not decreed and given existence to; and He has permitted
evil, because it is enveloped in the best plan which is found in
the region of possibles, and that divine wisdom could not fail to
have chosen." (Essay, art. 338.)
Evil in this way is a contingency of the infinite rather than a
concomitant of the finite.  Thus, Leibnitz tells us, "Chrysippus
has reasdn to allege that vice comes from the original constitution of some spirits. It is objected to them that God has formed
them; and he can only reply, that the imperfection of matter does
not permit him to do better. This reply is good for nothing; for
matter itself is indifferent to all forms, and besides, God has made
it. Evil comes rather from forms themselves, but abstract; that
is to say, from ideas that God has not produced by an act of His
will, no more than He has produced number and figure; and no
more, in one word, than all those possible essences which we regard as eternal and necessary, for they find themselves in the
ideal region of possibles; that is to say, in the divine understanding. God is then not the author of these essences, in so far as
164
~ III 
HOW ILLUSTRATED.
from human society,-somewhat in the following fashion.
The executive of a home government, we may suppose, is
engaged in drawing up a constitution for a distant colony.
He arrays before his mind the several possible schemes on
which such a constitution can be constructed. He possesses,
we may assume, liberal, humane, and enlightened views, controlled by a severe sense of right and of justice.   Would
it be best for him to institute, in this distant province, a
pure democracy; an absolutism, of which he is to be the
head; or a mixed system which would unite the elements of
individualism and centralism? Each of the three has its
objections: to the first there is a danger of tumult, of disorganization, of waste of power from decentralization of
energies. The second, the nearer it would approach to perfection, the nearer would it approach to a dead mechanism.
The third, no matter how skillfully constructed, would be
open, not merely to the incidental vices of all governments,
but to a constant collision of forces,-men arraying themselves, as their interests or temperaments prompted them,
on the side of progress or of conservatism, and making the
very union of liberty with authority the cause of revolt and
disorder. Notwithstanding these evils, this form of government may, of all others, be the best, and as such may be
they are only possibilities; but there is nothing actual but what
He discerned and called into existence, and He has permitted
evil, because it is enveloped in the best plan which is found in
the region of possibles; that plan the Supreme W\isdom could not
fail to choose. It is this notion which at once satisfies the wisdom, the power, and the goodness of God, and yet leaves room
for the entrance of evil.
~ ill
165 
OPTIMISM:
selected with its known evils. All the possible schemes
have their evils: this is taken because it has the least evil
and the most good.*
Now, for reasons which it is not necessary for us to
penetrate, God has chosen moral agencies as the best of
all systems for the government of an intelligent creation. It
may be sufficient for us, as an hypothesis, to assume that lHe
may not choose to be a prince over stocks and stones.   It
may not be consistent with the exercise of His perfect powers
and infinite love to gaze down upon a bleak and desolate
universe, the mausoleum of possible existences, to Him
actual because possible, whom death arrested and froze before yet they sprang to life, their unheaved bosoms crossed
by their unnerved arms, emitting no response to'Tim,reasonless, fearless, loveless, hopeless, wantless.  To'Tim, to
whom what MilGHT BE is always equivalent to what Is, it
may be no pleasure to see stretched before Him the corpses
of even the possible, they, the sole representatives of organic
life, rocked forever on the waves of a shoreless eternity,
gazing upward to Him, the universal Father, with eyes none
the less glassy, and frames none the less rigid and dread,
feom the fact that by the arctic severity of a merely mechanical universe, the decree of non-existence was one which
forbade rather than destroyed life.  All the splendor of the
architraves above, all the grandeur of the cosmical architecture, all the garniture of its jewels, might not, to the
divine vision of infinite love, compensate for the childless
* See this view elaborately expaLnded by Leibnitz, in his Theodicea, and stated by Dr. Chalmers in his Natural Theology, book v.
chap. ii.
~ ill
166 
INCLUDES MORAL AGENCY.
ness and desolateness of this stricken world.   To Tim the
cold, metallic ringing of the spheres, as in their tenantless
grandeur they roll over the frozen track of their eternal
courses, may be no substitute for even the weak and discordant cries of men.  Is it inconsistent with the idea of His
divine wisdom that He should give life and moral agency in
preference to the death of a mere mechanical obedience?
~ 112. Thus far, i.e. in the assumption that God selected
that form of polity which, of all others, was the best
for  the  government  of intelligent  creatures,  and  that
the form thus chosen was that of moral agency, the
leading minds who have entered on the question agree.
Here, however, they divide; one class holds that to moral
agency only a liability to sin is essential; that it would not
only have been possible to have created moral agents without
the certainty of sin, but that moral agency as such was so
created, and that the ordinary government of God continues
so to control the moral agents thus created as to make all
their actions the result of His permissive if not His directive
power. The other class holds that moral agency is endowed
with the absolute power of choice as an essential element in
its existence; that not only is temptation necessary to such
agency, but that actual sin is so, and that, therefore, sin
is the act of the creature alone, over which the Creator
has no control. The first view has been maintained by
Augustin, by Calvin, by Leibnitz, by Pascal, by Jonathan
Edwards, and, to a modified extent, by Chalmers and
-AcCosh; the second by Samuel Clarke, by John Young,*
* The Mystery of Evil and Good, by John Young, LL.D.; Phil. 185(i.
~ 112
161 
NECESSITARIANISNM:
and in our own country, of late days, by Mr. Bledsoe,* by
Dr. Bushnell,t and incidentally by Dr. Hickok.:
~ 113. a3. Necessitarian tview.
Of the writers who maintained the first of these theories, there is one who has obtained an eminence which justifies us in treating him, if not as the type, at least as the representative of the large, and, in some respects, not very
harmonious school who have arrived at the same result. "The
honor of being the most effective defender of Christianity,"
says Dr. Chalmers, who was in the main one of his disciples,
"we should ascribe to Jonathan Edwards;" and such, limiting the remark to what it was intended to apply-the
doctrine of grace as expounded by the Calvinistic and
Augustinian schools-has been the uniform judgment of
those who have followed Edwards in the support of the
same opinions. Nor is the tribute paid to the great American metaphysician by his adversaries less emphatic.  " His
power of subtle argument," says Sir James Mackintosh,
"perhaps unmatched, certainly unsurpassed among men, was
joined, as in some of the ancient mystics, with a character
which raised his piety to fervor."  He was a "very candid
and acute reasoner," says Dugald Stewart, who regarded
Edwards's dogmas, both evangelical and metaphysical, with
peculiar animosity.  It cannot be out of place, therefore, to
pause a moment to consider the solution of this great difficulty proposed by so eminent an intellect.
* A Theodicy, etc., by A. T. Bledsoe; New York, 1854.
t Nature and the Supernatural, as together constituting the one
system of God, by Horace Bushnell; 1858.
++ Rational Cosmology, etc., by L. P. Hickok; 1858.
168
~ 113 
DEFENDED BY EDWARDS.
The fundamental principle of Edwards's argument is that
there can be no event without an adequate cause, and that
hence there can be no independent spontaneous volition on
the part of man.  Hence it is, that instead of each moral
agent being capable of spontaneous action, his will is under
the control of a moral necessity which on the one hand, is
alleged to be subordinate to the sovereignty of God, and
yet, on the other, to be consistent with the freedom of man.
How this view accords with the Divine perfections is thus
explained
~ 114. "It properly belongs to the Supreme and Absolute
Governor of the universe to order all important events within His dominion by His wisdom; but the events in the moral world are of the most important kind, such as the moral
actions of intelligent creatures, and their consequences.
"These events will be ordered by something. They will
either be disposed by wisdom, or they will be disposed by
chance; that is, they will be disposed by blind and undesigning causes, if that were possible, and could be called a
disposal. Is it not better that the good and evil which happen
in God's world, should be ordered, regulated, bounded, and
determined by the good pleasure of an infinitely wise Being,
who perfectly comprehends, within His understanding and
constant view, the universality of things in all their extent
and duration, and sees all the influence of every event, with
respect to every individual thing and circumstance, throughout the grand system, and the whole of the eternal series of
consequences, than to leave these things tb fall out by
chance, and to be determined by those causes which have
no understanding or aim? Doubtless, in these important
15
~ lif
169 
NECESSITARIANISM:
events, there is a better and a worse, as to the time, place,
subject, manner, and circumstances, of their coming to pass,
with regard to their influence on the state and course of
things. And if there be, it is certainly best that they should
be determined to that time, place, etc., which is best; and,
therefore, it is in its own nature fit that wisdom, and not
chance, should order these things.  So that it belongs to
the Being who is the possessor of infinite wisdom, and
is the creator and owner of the whole system of created
existences, and has the care of all; I say it belongs to IHim
to take care of this matter; and HIe would not do what is
proper for Him if He should neglect it.  And it is so far
from being unholy in Him to undertake this affair, that it
would have rather been unholy in Him to neglect it, as it
would have been a neglecting what fitly appertains to Him;
and so it would have been a very unfit and unsuitable
neglect.
"Therefore, the sovereignty of God doubtless extends to
this matter; especially considering that if it should be supposed to be otherwise, and God should leave men's volitions
and all moral events to the determination and disposing of
blind, unmeaning causes, or they should be left to happen
perfectly without a cause; this would be no more consistent
with liberty, in any notion of it, and particularly not in the
Armenian notion of it, than if these events were subject to
the disposal of Divine Providence, and the will of man were
determined by Divine Wisdom, as appears by what has
already been observed. But it is evident that such a providential disposing and determining men's moral actions,
though it infers a moral necessity of those actions, yet it
170
~ 114 
DEFENDED BY EDWARDS.
does not in the least infringe the real liberty of mankind,the only liberty that common sense teaches to be necessary
to moral agency, which, as has been demonstrated, is not
inconsistent with such necessity.
"On the whole, it is manifest that God may be, in the manner which has been described, the orderer and disposer of
that event, which, in the inherent subject and agent, is moral
evil; and yet, His so doing may be no moral evil. He may
will the disposal of such an event, and its coming to pass
for good ends, and His will not be an immoral or sinful
will, but a perfectly holy will. And He may actually, in
His providence, so dispose and permit things, that the event
may be certainly and infallibly connected with such disposal
and permission, and His act therein not be an immoral or
unholy, but a perfectly holy act. Sin may be an evil thing,
and yet, that there should be such a disposal and permission,
as that it should come to pass, may be a good thing. This
is no contradiction or inconsistence.   Joseph's brethren selling him into Egypt, consider it only as it was acted by
them, and with respect to their views and aims, which were
evil, was a very bad thing; but it was a good thing, as it
was an event of God's ordering, and considered with respect
to his views and aims, which were good. Gen. i. 20:'As
for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto
good.' So the crucifixion of Christ, if we consider only
those things which belong to the event as it proceeded from
His murderers, and are comprehended within the compass of
the affair considered as their act, their principles, dispositions, views, and aims; so it was one of the most heinous
things that ever was done, in many respects the most horrid
~ 114
171 
NECESSITARIANISM.
of all acts; but consider it, as it was willed and ordered by
God, in the extent of His designs and views, it was the most
glorious and admirable of all events, and God's willing the
event, was the most holy volition of God that ever was made
known to men; and God's act in ordering it was a divine
act, which above all others, manifests the moral excellency
of the Divine Being."*
~ 115. This scheme, as it will at once be seen, lies open
to at least two imposing objections: (a',) that it renders useless all means for avoiding sin, reducing men to mere
machines; and (b4) that by bringing the Divine Being himself under the operation of necessity it destroys the Divine
individuality altogether.   These objections are stated by
President Edwards, with his characteristic candor, and are
met by him with an exquisite delicacy and yet strength
which, so far at least as the mere mechanism of logic is concerned, are probably unsurpassed. The several links of this
subtle chain it will not be practicable at present to examine.
It will be sufficient, briefly here to notice the main points
made by this great reasoner in reply to the objections which
have been just stated.
As to the position that the scheme of necessity renders useless all means for avoiding sin, reducing men to
mere machines, the question is first put whether, instead of
breaking, as is insisted, the connection between the means
and the end, the doctrine of necessity does not knit them
all the tighter.  "'My effects," says the objector, "can do no
good, if I am under necessity." But it is because we are
* Edwards, on Freedom of the Will, p. 160, ~ 9, iv.
172
~ 115 
NECESSITARIANISM.1
under moral necessity, i.e. because there is a necessary connection between effects and results, that these effects are
succe ssful.  "MAeans  a re foregoing things, and effects are follo wi        ng things; and     if there were no connection between
foreg     oing things and  following ones, there could be no connection between means and end; and so all means would be
wholly vain and        fruitless. For it is by virtue of some connection only, that they become successful; it is some connection observed or revealed, or otherwise known, between
antecedent things and following ones, that is, what directs
the choice of means. And if there were no such thing as
an established connection, there could be no choice as to
means; one thing would have no more tendency to an effect
than another; there would be no such thing as tendency in
the case, all those things which are successful means of other
things, do therein prove connected antecedents of them
and therefore to assert that a fixed connection between antecedents and consequents makes means vain and useless or
stands in the way to hinder the connection between means
and end, is just as ridiculous as to say, that a connection
between antecedents and consequents stand in the way to
hinder a           connection between antecedents and consequents."
And the refusal to do an act, on account of its uselessness,
i      s an      admission, it is argued with great subtlety, that the
party so refusing negatives his hypothesis by his own act.
"If prior necessity, that determines all things, makes vain
all actions or conclusions of ours, in order to anything
futur         e;   then it makes vain all conclusions of'ours, in order
t      o  our future ease.   T he measure of our ease, with the time,
mannier, and  every circu mstance of it, is already fixed, by all                            15'
~ 115
l3 
OBJECTIONS:
determining necessity, as much  as anything else.  If he
says within himself,'what future happiness or misery I
shall have, is already in effect, determined by the necessary
cause and connection of things; therefore I will save myself
the trouble of labor and diligence, which cannot add to my
determined degree of happiness or diminish my misery, but
will take my ease, and will enjoy the comfort of sloth and
negligence.' Such a man contradicts himself; he says the
measure of his future happiness and misery is already fixed,
and he will not try to diminish the one or add to the other;
but yet, in his very conclusions, he contradicts this; for he
takes up this conclusion, to add to his future happiness, by
the ease and comfort of his negligence; and to diminish his
future trouble and misery by saving himself the trouble of
using means and taking pains. In short, the principles are
such as cannot be acted on, in any respect, consistently."
In meeting the remaining difficulty, that of the alleged
annihilation of the Divine will, by subjecting it also to
necessity, President Edwards has the assistance of Dr.
Samuel Clarke, a conjunction which, in such questions,
was a rare one, between the two greatest theological
metaphysicians in the English tongue. "It might have
been objected," says Clarke, "with more plausibleness, that
the Supreme Cause cannot be free, because Hle must needs
do always what is best in the whole. But this would not at
all serve Spinoza's purpose; for this is a necessity, not of
nature and of fate, but of fitness and wisdom; a necessity
consistent with the greatest reason and most perfect choice.
For the only foundation of this necessity, is such an unalterable rectitude of Will and perfection of Wisdom, as makes
174
~ 115 
DEFENDED BY EDWARDS.
it impossible for a wise Being to act foolishly."  And with
this may be taken the following observations of Edwards
himself.
~ 116. " If God's will is steadily and surely determined in
everything by supreme wisdom, then it is in everything necessarily determined to that which is most wise. And certainly,
it would be a disadvantage and indignity to be otherwise.
For if the Divine Will was not necessarily determined to
that which in every case is wisest and best, it must be subject to some degree of undesigning contingence; and so in
the same degree liable to evil.  To suppose the Divine Will
liable to be carried hither and thither at random, by the uncertain wind of blind contingence, which is guided by no
wisdom, no motive, no intelligent dictate whatsoever, (if
any such thing were possible,) would certainly argue a great
degree of imperfection and meanness, infinitely unworthy of
the Deity. If it be a disadvantage for the Divine Will to
be attended with this moral necessity, then the more free
from it, and the more left at random, the greater dignity
and advantage.   And, consequently, to be perfectly free
from the direction of understanding, and universally and
entirely left to senseless, unmeaning contingence, to act absolutely at random, would be the supreme glory. It no
more argues any dependence of God's will, that THis supremely wise volition is necessary, than it argues a dependence of His being that His existence is necessary.  If it be
something too low, for the Supreme Being to have His will
determined by moral Necessity, so as necessarily, in every
case to will in the highest degree holily and happily; then
why is it not also something too low for Ilim to have His
~ 116
175 
NECESSITARIANISM:
existence, and the infinite perfection of HIis nature, and HIis
infinite happiness determined by necessity?  It is no more
to God's dishonor to be necessarily wise, than to be necessarily holy.  And if neither of them be to His dishonor,
then it is not to His dishonor necessarily to act holily and
wisely.   And if it be not dishonorable to be necessarily
holy and wise, in the highest possible degree, no more is it
mean and dishonorable, necessarily to act holily and wisely
in the highest possible degree; or, which is the same thing,
to do that, in every case, which, above all other things, is
wisest and best.
"The reason why it is not dishonorable to be necessarily
most holy, is, because holiness in itself is an excellent and
honorable thing. For the same reason, it is no dishonor to
be necessarily most wise, and, in every case, to act most
wisely, or do the thing which is the wisest of all, for wisdom
is also in itself excellent and honorable."
~ 117. The doctrine of Necessity, as laid down by Edwards, has been not a little modified, first by Dr. Chalmers,
and afterwards by Dr. McCosh, who may be taken as giving the views of the present school of Scotch orthodoxy on
this point.  According to the last writer, the older Necessitarians, including Edwards himself, erred in a too close approach to the position that man has all his thoughts and
feelings determined by an external cause.  The true doctrine, it is maintained, is that the cause of any given mental
phenomenon, its unconditional antecedent which will always
produce it, and without which it cannot recur, is composed
of two things,-the immediately preceding state, and a mental power or faculty.  Should the latter be held as truly
176
~ III 
CHIIALMERS: McCOSH.
the cause, then the other falls to be regarded as the circumstances, in the common aphorism, that the same cause produces the same effect in the same circumstances.   In many
cases the cause is still more complex, and embraces other
elements, as, for instance, the previous habits of the soul; nay,
the very'casual associations of the mind in all its previous
history, and the forgotten incidents of childhood, may be
swaying more or less powerfully the actual state produced
at any given moment.* It will be seen from this that the
doctrine of necessity, as taught by Edwards, is here opened,
and the self-determining power of the human will let in as a
causal element.
~ 118. The practical conclusion deduced from this distinction is the pushing of the doctrine of philosophical
necessity one step farther back.   The action has its cause,
without which it cannot exist, but that cause, in whole or
in part, is the will. This will itself is acted upon by causes,
not sufficiently powerful, however, to destroy its freedom,
but, at the same time, strong enough to establish between it
and them the relation between cause and effect. On the
one hand, man has "a power of will and self-agency; and
his conscience announces that he is responsible." On the
other hand, the law of cause and effect reigns in mind as it
reigns in matter.   "We can produce the separate proofs of
the two separate truths advocated by us; and, when looked
apart, these proofs are acknowledged to be irrefragable.
Should it be demanded of us that we reconcile them, we
answer that we are not bound to offer a positive reconcilia
* iMcCosh, on the Divine Gov., fourth Am. ed., p. 541.
177
~ 118 
LIBERTARIANISM:
tioi."*  In this view, man, while in everything acting under
the direction of the Divine Sovereignty, is at the same time,
chargeable with his own sins.
b3. Libertarian view.
~ 119. The libertarian view, as taught by Christian theists
of the present day, approximates so closely to those just
stated as to leave the difference rather nominal than real.
Taking it in reference to the origin of evil, Mr. R. A. Thompson, whose late treatise on Theism may be regarded as based
on this special hypothesis, tells us that it consists in "laying
it (sin) to the charge of finite wills," and by this means "reconciling the prevalence of mischief with the perfections of
the Creator."t  To an American writer, however, Mr. A.
T. Bledsoe, we owe the broadest enunciation and the most
systematic defence of this doctrine, so far as it may be received as an element in Christian theism. I
The main difficulty, as is stated by Mr. Bledsoe, and as is
noticed at the commencement of this discussion, is the position of the atheist, that if God possessed perfect holiness
Hle would prevent all moral evil, unless His power were
limited. Now, says Mr. Bledsoe, "this influence is a false
premise, namely, that if God is omnipotent He could easily
prevent moral evil, and cause virtue to exist without any
mixture of vice.   This assumption has been incautiously
conceded to the atheist by his opponent, and hence his argu
* McCosh, on the Divine Gov., fourth Am. ed., p. 279.  See post,
Q 243, 244, etc.
t Thompson's Theism, book iii., chap. vi., ~ 9.
++ A Theodicy, etc., by A. T. Bledsoe, Professor in the University
of Mississippi. New York: Carlton Philips, 1854.
178
~ 119 
MR. BLEDSOE
meit has not been clearly and fully refuted."  The proper
refutation of the argument, it is said, involves two assump tions: "first, that it is no limitation of the Divine Omnipo tence to say that it cannot work contradictions; and,
secondly, that if God should cause virtue to exist in the
heart of a moral agent, He would work a contradiction."
~ 120. The first position, that God cannot work impossi bilities, may be for the present passed.   The second, viz.,
that "if God should cause virtue to exist in the breast of a
moral agent, He would work a contradiction," is thus de fended: "In other words, the production of virtue by any
extraneous agency, is one of those impossible conceits, those
inherent absurdities, which lie quite beyond the sphere of light
in which the Divine Omnipotence moves, and has no existence except in the outer darkness of a lawless imagination,
or in the dim regions of error in which the true nature of
moral goodness has never been seen.  It is absurd, we say,
to suppose that moral agents can be governed and controlled
in any other way than by moral means. All physical power
is here out of the question. By physical power, in connection with wisdom and goodness, a moral agent may be
created and endowed with the noblest attributes. By physical power a moral agent may be caused to glow with a
feeling of love, and armed with an uncommon energy of
will; but such effects, though produced by the power of
God, are not the virtue of the moral agent in whom they
are produced.   This consists not in the possession of moral
powers, but in the proper and obedient exercise of those
powers.   If infinite wisdom,  and goodness,  and power,
should muster all the means and appliances in the universe,
~ 120
179 
LIBERTARIANISM:
and cause them to bear, with united energy, on a single
mind, the effect produced, however grand and beautiful,
would not be the virtue of the agent in whom it is produced.
Nothing can be his virtue which is produced by an extraneous agency.  This is a dictate of the universal reason
and consciousness of mankind. It needs no metaphysical
refinement for its support, and no scholastic jargon for its
illustration. On this broad principle, then, which is so
clearly deduced, not from the confined darkness of the
schools, but the open light of nature, we intend to take our
stand in opposition to the embattled ranks of atheism."
This course of reasoning, as will be observed, still lies
open to the inquiry, why, if the capacity to sin is inseparable from moral agency, did God create moral agents at all?
This objection Mr. Bledsoe, like his antagonists in this issue,
very satisfactorily disposes of by recourse to the theory of
optionism.   "God did not choose," says Mr. Bledsoe, "to
prevent sin in this way, but to create the world exactly as
He did, though He foresaw the fall and all its consequences,
because the highest good of the universe required the creation of such a world."
The objections which may be urged to this scheme may
be classified as follows:  ~ 121. a'. It still traces back sin to God. Undoubtedly
a capacity to sin "is essential to moral agents."  But does
it follow that there must hence be actual sinning, especially
to the extent to which it is carried among men? While
the capacity to sin would remain, it will surely not be denied
that God, by an infusion of gracious affections, could have
averted the overt act. If He could have done so, but did
180
~ 121 
OBJECTIONS.
not, He becomes as much open to the charge of permitting
sin as He is under the necessity hypothesis.
~ 122. b'. It contemnplates an abeyance  in the Divine
Power inconsistent with the idea of an infinite and perfect Deity. It requires us to presume that the all-observant
and managing Governor, who, it is assumed, controls the
destinies of the myriads of animals, great and small, who
are ranged around the great amphitheatre of nature, not
only withdraws from man all moral influence, but delivers to
him an independent power of volition which must enable
the creature to control the movements of the Creator's
realm.  This, it is insisted, involves difficulties far greater
than those of the necessity hypothesis.
~ 123. c4 It aggravates mzan's impotence.
It requires no extensive induction to prove that men, as
they now stand, are incompetent for the work of their own
moral renovation. It is not merely the declaration of Scripture, but the testimony of experience, that for this purpose
there is needed the interposition of Divine grace.  But, by
surrounding man by a non-conducting atmosphere of moral
agency, through which this grace does not penetrate, do we
not expose ourselves to Coleridge's sarcasm, that while the
doctrine of necessity is the lamb in wolf's clothing, that of
liberty is the wolf in lamb's clothing?
Of these objections, the first is equally chargeable to all
hypotheses of the origin of evil, and may, therefore, be canceled altogether. The second is common to every scheme
which recognizes moral agency. The third is, however,
more serious, and can only be avoided by invoking the aid
of the apparently contradictory truth of a special and con                           16)
~ 122-12.
181 
LIBERTARIANISM:
stantly succoring Divine Sovereignty, in the same way that
those who acknowledge such sovereignty reciprocally invoke
the aid of free agency to meet the common consciousness of
individual being.
di. It is in the omission to appeal to this established though
apparently conflicting truth, (i.e. that of Divine Sovereignty,) that MIr. Bledsoe, while preserving the symmetry
of his hypothesis, has failed to adapt it to all the exigencies of consciousness.   The difficulty here is twofold.
~ 124  a-. Such omission is in conflict with our own experience as to the power of man for self-renovation. Who
is there who cannot testify to his moral inability for this purpose,-to his attempting, for instance, to conquer some specific evil habit-to his using whatever powers he could
summon for this end,-and yet to his ultimately failing?
~ 125. b5. The theory in like manner conflicts with our
consciousness as to the existence, in part at least, of the relation of cause and effect to the actions of the human mind.
Mlr. Bledsoe, and those who agree with him in the advocacy
of a systematic and absolute libertarianism, assume the
entire absence of causation in the human mind. Now this
is in opposition both to consciousness and to experience.
Wre are conscious of causation-e.g. the influence of others,
early prejudices or associations-producing certain results.
We calculate on the action of such causes on others, when
we predict that under certain circumstances others will commit certain acts.  In some cases, such as the absence of
counteracting causes, we all must admit, there is a probability approaching to a moral necessity of these agencies
producing their specific effects.   How then, in harmony
182
~ 124-125 
MR. YOUNG.
with our own conscience, can we assert the will to act absolutely free from any superior causality?
To Mr. Young's exposition of the same view, marked as
it is with singular dialectic skill and great felicity of expression, the same objections apply though with greater force.
To him the human judgment, throughout its whole probation, is free from any supernatural divine causation.   God
works on man even in the office of renovation, not by moving the will, but by illuminating the understanding. Original sin is represented as "ignorance, or false views of the
Most High."*   Resurrection to life is effected by  "just
views of the Almighty."  "Spiritual truth is the medium
and even the very material of the soul's life." The ministry
of Christ consists in "pouring a flood of light upon the
world in which its darkness  might be quenched."   The
office of the Holy Spirit consists in "pouring down  the
light of truth and the force of love, commanding all the
appliances of infinite wisdom, infinite patience, and infinite
power, and ceaselessly distributing, combiningg and mnodifyiig moral influences of all krinds, in order that at length
man might be won back to his Greator, to duty, to reason,
to life."
~ 126. It is not within the province of the present work
to consider how far this is consistent with Christian theology. It is enough to say that it is in conflict both with
psychological experience  and with analogy.   There  are
few who have spoken of their own religious history, who
do not say that their will was at times acted on, not by
*, Mystery of Evil, Phil. edition of 1856, p. 316.
~ 126
183 
LIBERTARIANISM:
"light,"-not by evidence, not by argument,-but by a
power distinct from either, a power which was above themselves, and which could not be accounted for by merely
human and natural conditions. And the analogy with other
decisive phenomena which operate in the formation of character, tends to strengthen this view.  Two minds, trained
under the same process, illuminated by the same degree of
light, differ widely in their reception of it. With regard to
the degree to which this light is cast, a still greater variety
exhibits itself. The inhabitants of Central Africa in our
own day,-those of Germany before the Christian era,had no concern in selecting the points of time or of territory in which they were placed. Among civilized countries even now, we unite in predicting certain phases of
character as likely to arise from birth and involuntary education. We know all of us how much our own character
and opinions have in this way been moulded. The question
now is not whether an all-observant and humane God may not
vary the inner light communicated by Him, and proportion
His ultimate judgments, so as to compensate for the inequalities in which His creatures were placed. But the question is whether those inequalities do exist so as to affect
character.   And  it is submitted that consciousness  and
observation show they do.
~ 127. Two still more recent American writers, however,
by recognizing this element, have, with more or less qualification, pushed the libertarian hypothesis almost to the
point where the necessitarian is left by  McCosh.   Dr.
IHickok, whose profound work on "Rational Cosmology,"
places him intlthe front rank of modern theistical metaphy
184
~ 127
!LI, 
DR. HICKOK:  DR. BUSHNELL.
sicians, declares "the reason-idea of spiritual agency" to be
"spontaneous activity self-directed," and announces that in
this we have an "utterly new kind of cause, viz., a cause
originating or causing to be from itself, and not a cause
conditioned or caused to cause from something back of itself.
It is activity in liberty, which can make a beginning from
conditions within its own being. We have in this conception no impossibilities, nor absurdities of the last-first, in
affirming that we may intelligently apprehend how an utterly
new thing can absolutely begin existence. With all rational
spirits there is such capacity of initial causality, and thus of
all free and responsible beings, we affirm that their personal
acts are their own origination, and can no more be transferred to any other person than their separate identity.
Man and angel can, in this sense, truly create. Their good
and bad deeds are of their own origination.   Whatever another agent may do in throwing his own conditions on them,
he does not originate their acts within them But man cannot
originate new forces, and thus man cannot create matter."*
Hiere we have free agency limited by the conditions which
belong to it as a spiritual as distinguished from a corporeal
organization. In a late very striking exposition of the same
topic,-an exposition also from the libertarian point of
view,t-we have an additional qualification attached which
makes moral freedom, as here defined, almost tantamount to
philosophical necessity, as defined by McCosh. In the
treatise now under notice, after declaring free agents to be
*-i Hickok's Rational Cosmology, by L. P. Ilickok; 1858, p. 99.
t Bushnell's Nature and the Supernatural; N. Y., 1858, p. 234.
16*
~ 12'i
185 
ORIGIN OF EVIL:
"powers," who " act as being uncaused in their action, which
excludes any control of them by God's omnipotent force," the
author states that in the lapsed condition in which the soul
now finds itself, God alone can restore it to life and liberty.
"By the freedom of the will we understand simply its freedom as a volitional function; but mere volitions, taken by
themselves involve no capacity to regenerate or constitute a
character. Say what we may of the will as a strictly selfdetermining power, raise what distinctions we may as regards the kinds of ability, such as natural and moral, antecedent and subsequent, we have no ability at all, of any kind,
to regenerate our own state, or restore our own disorders."
~128. c3. Present approximation of the two schools.
Philosophical necessity, as now stated, consists of the Divine Sovereignty, incorporating within itself and recognizing
as an independent power, Free Agency; Libertarianism, of
Free Agency, capable, within its own range of action, of
voluntary choice, but dependent, for self-renovation, on
Divine grace. In other words, each system consists of the
same two great truths, apparently hostile, yet even consistent in human consciousness-God is Sovereign, the Will
is free. If, in respect to the question of the primacy of these
truths, there should be great diversity of opinion,-if by
one class of thinkers the one is placed first and gazed at
with peculiar reverence, if by another the other,-this is no
more than we find in civil society, where the two parallel
truths of individual liberty and governmental subjection are
subject to the same treatment. The question is one of temnperament. In sociology, we find on the one side, those who
look up with peculiar reverence to the conservative power of
186
~ 128 
RECONCILIATION OF SCHIOOLS.
government, who distrust the capacity of bodies of men for
self-government, who turn fondly to the past and sadly to
the future; on the other side, those who holding that true
conservatism requires constant change in order to withstand
the dilapidations of time, have an a priori tendency to reforms, and look upon the past mainly as a platform on which
to raise the achievements of the future.  To the struggles
of these two classes of opinion-the conservative and the
reforming-we owe a great part of the healthy action of
society. No man would now affirm that either class possesses the truth solely, or that the apparently hostile truths
of human independence and of human subordination are not
practically recognized in political economy.   Among those
engaged in marshaling the two cardinal propositions of metaphysical theology, we may look for the same diversity.
In the present discussion, the metaphysical errors of the
two schools have been produced very much in the same
way as the economical errors of the two political schools
which have been noticed. At one time the over-pressure of
centralism requires a vigorous and unqualified assertion of
individual liberty; at another, the over-pressure of individualism requires a similar assertion of the supremacy of
the law.  It has been so in the history of the necessitarian
controversy. At a time when the Divine Supremacy was
almost overlooked, Edwards, by his matchless logic, vindicated the causal connection of the Divine Purpose and the
human will. Afterwards, when the danger was from the
contrary direction, and when, under the leadl of Condillac
and Hume, there was a practical denial of the power of selfdetermination, the truth was again approached by the vin
128
187 
FREEDOM AND SOVEREIGNTY:.
dication of that particular branch of it which was then in
peril. To this last reaction, almost simultaneous in England, Scotland, and Germany, we owe the extraordinary
logical acuteness and profound analysis with which Kant
established the "autonomy" of the will, and its own supreme
law-giving functions;* with which Reid, with grave and luminous precision, vindicated moral agency,t and with which
Coleridge, with more comprehensiveness than either, (for he
recognized the countervailing proposition of Divine sovereignty,) brought his own lustrous rhetoric to the rescue of
the truth then in peculiar peril.
But from the very force of their mission, the advanceguard of each school erred: that of the necessitarians in
rejecting intuition, as an original idea produced in the human mind; that of the libertarians in rejecting sensation
as having a like office and power.   A more liberal philosophy has told us that the two methods of reaching truth coexist; riper theology tells us that the two great truths of
God's sovereignty and man's free agency are, in like manner,
coexistent.
~ 129. So far as concerns the supposed conflict of predestination with free will, the difficulties have been greatly
lessened by modern scientific research. Geology, as the annihilator of time, and astronomy, as the annihilator of space,
tend to relieve this position from its doctrinal difficulties by
showing that, to a Divine eye, there can be no blanks over
* See particularly his Grundlegung zur Mctaphysick der Sitten;
Riga, 1785.
- See his Essay on Liberty of Moral Agents, Essays, etc., No. 4,
part iii.
188
~ 129 
HOW RECONCILED.
which either predestination or retrospection can act.  There
can be no prophecy where there is no future; there can be
no history where there is no past. All is an immediate
present, ranging in a concave surface before the observation
of the Almighty, the points in it separated from each other,
but all at the same distance from Hlimself.
We have an illustration of this as to space, from the magnetic telegraph. The operator at the wires no longer finds
mountains and forests lifting themselves between himself and
the terminus of the line, but his fingers talk through their
dumb formula across a continent with as substantial rapidity
as if that continent did not exist.
But it is from astronomy that we learn most impressively the great truth that infinitude is natural and normal,
and time and space artificial.  Light, which, could it be
reined and guided, would curve round the earth in a moment,
-which, even when on its by-roads, makes its cross journey
from the sun to the remotest known planets and from thence
to the earth, in less than a day,-is yet many thousands of
years in reaching us from those as yet unresolved nebulae
whose elements the most space-penetrating of telescopes
cannot do much more than suspect. These telescopes, then,
spread before us worlds that existed before the creation of
man. This faint suffusion on the distant skies is, as we now
see it, coeval with those periods when only animal life issued
over the earth's surface, or perhaps with that still more remote period when that surface was a mass of fire. It is a
singular illustration of the inadequacy of our formulas of
time to note even the ordinary phenomena of the heavens;
that not only is the star that we now see a cotemporary with
~ 129
189 
PREDESTINATION:
events a thousand years back, but may be at this moment extinct. Other stars, under past astronomical observation, have,
within a few hundred years, been annihilated; this we now
look upon may be but the spectre, created by the finiteness
of our senses, of that which once was.
~ 130. Nor does this thought strike us the less if we suppose the position reversed, and the observer to stand on one
of these distant stars watching our own globe.   Supposing
he has a telescope of almost infinitely augmented power,
what does he see?  Let him take one of the more remote
of these stand-points, and the earth hurries across the range
of his instrument with her then thin crust, at one place
palpitating and heaving over the seething of the boiling
rock beneath; at another, gashed and seamned by fissures,
through which torrents of molten basalt, porphyry, and
granite, break upward and then fall down in blazing but
ponderous spray; at another, suddenly overwhelmed by some
ocean-lake which the upheaval of new mountain ranges has
driven from its seat.  Let him pass from this desolate and
awful scene, and station himself at a stand-point, perhaps a
thousand years nearer, as measured by the passage of light.
No longer the earth is covered with dark clouds, broken
only by volcanic fires.  A new and tranquil scene follows,the scene of a giant though languid and otiose infancy.
The fierce energies of all that awful subterranean laboratory,
with its powers of earthquake and volcano, and its then urncombined agents of fire, water, and rock, have done their
work. The chemical as well as the mechanical transformation is complete, and the earth now calmly sleeps prior to
the great morning of organic creation.   Vast rivers drop
190
~ 1.30 
NOT RETROSPECTIVE.
lazily through continents of alluvium and drift. These clubmasses, (Sigillarie,) in height one hundred feet, and five or
six feet in diameter,* supply, in the concentric layers of their
cylindrical trunks, the base of the coal strata of the future.
Their gigantic boughs flap, over the rich soil, their awninglike
leaves. And then, from another stand-point, a new stage of
creation appears.  The primeval faunae, corresponding, in
their comprehensive but simple structure, with the preliminary and typical forms of human society, first display themselves to the telescopic eye.  The present observer, if we
can suppose such, may now, from one of these ranges, see
prowling in the quiet waters the Placoids and Ganoids, who,
in those paleozoic days, were the sole representatives of the
vertebrate type. The cumbrous rhinoceros wallowing in the
rich mud by the side of the lagoon; the tortoise sprawling
in the sunshine; family after family of mammals, ending with
man himself, as by successive creations they appear; each
stand at present before these planetary observers.   And, if
light paints in those distant spheres with the same infinite
accuracy and delicacy as it does in ours, we see, as we look
on these remote nebula, not merely the witnesses, but the
representations of our cosmical history.  There is no TIME
in that great daguerreotype gallery of the heavens; but
there, as at the present, are spread the responsive paintings,
changing as the original changed, of each period of the
earth's creation and development.
~ 131. To the human mind, therefore, using the aid of
* See Professor Le Conte's Lecture on Coal, Smithlsoniain Institute
Proceedings, 1857, p. 159.
~ 131
191 
SOVEREIGNTY AND FREEDOM:
geology and astronomy, time and space dwindle and disappear in the very proportion in which the instruments by
which they are measured become the more perfect. To the
Divine mind, they must cease to exist altogether. Astronomy, by showing us how the gravitation which binds together the atoms of earth, keeps in harmony the remotest
stars, tells us that the reins that guide us unite in that
same great hand that orders the entire universe.  Geology takes us still farther; for it shows not merely the unity
of mechanism through space, but the unity of design through
time.  Timie, indeed, cannot apply its notations to the contemplationl of this immutable and supreme Governor of the
universe.   Thousands upon thousands of years back the
geologist carries us and shows us the prior stages of a continuous life of which we are ourselves members. In this
continuousness there is neither break or disharmony.  It
is but the flash of a conception and the stroke of a decree
that intervenes between the earliest and the latest geological
eras.
Let us remove, then, space and time from our calculations; let us cease to apply the measuring-rods of our own
finite senses to the Unchangeable and the Almighty,  and
then prophecy and history, foreknowledge and retrospection, must coalesce in immediate observation.   The event
will then be cotemporaneous with the foreordination; it will
be foreordained because it exists, as well as exist because it
is foreordained.
~ 132. d3. The mere fact of the opposition of Divine
Sovereignty and of human  reponsibility, does not justify
the rejection of either the one or the other of these truths.
192
~ 132 
IHOW RECONCILED.
It may here be observed that philosophy as well as
theology leads to the belief that the highest truth, to finite
minds, is based on two subordinate propositions, each true,
and yet apparently irreconcilable. It may be, to adopt an
illustration already given, that the arch which unites the
pillars is beyond the reach of the human eye, and that
though all that we can see is the pillars themselves, distinct
and almost defiant, yet that at a height beyond our ob servation they join and harmonize. The following may be
taken as illustrations of the existence of such hostile and
yet at the same time necessarily reconcilable truths.
The philologist infers, (and, on the supposition of there
being no supernatural interference, without the possibility
of reply,) from the diversity of languages now existing on
the globe, the existence of the human race for hundreds of
thousands of years.  He looks at the fact that nations, from
religious and patriotic associations, if not from literary use,
cling to their languages with a pertinacity so great that
during the periods of which authentic history speaks, the
changes have been but slight; he notices the fact that since
the time of Alfred, through a series of extraordinary  vicissitudes, nine-tenths of the words used in the English
language have remained essentially the same; he traces the
similarity between the Homeric dialect and the Romaic,
between the most ancient Latin and the most modern Italian; between the laws of Menu and the three thousand years'
posterior essays of Rammohum Roy; he reminds us that
the farther back we go in time, as the chances of mutual
combinations and outside influence become less, so the pro                           17
~ 132
193 
OPPOSITION OF TRUTHS:
cess of internal change becomes more protracted; and from
these facts he calls upon us to conclude that the human race,
unless some miraculous multiplication of tongues be supposed, must have lived during a period of which its present
recorded history is an inconsiderable fraction. On the other
hand, geology shows, beyond the possibility of doubt, that
the race is of but recent origin, and this view is strengthened
by the testimony of history and tradition. And yet these
truths'not only coexist, but find their common origin in a
divine fiat-that of the multiplication of tongues at Babelwhich in this special case revelation has discovered to us.
W\e find another instance of opposite truths, which nevertheless must in fact harmonize, in the phenomena of the
centrifugal and centripetal forces. Are we in these, and
similar cases, to hold that because we cannot reconcile, we
must reject? Does not the presumption hold good that
when the veil is uncovered the solution of the apparent
contradictions will be discovered?
"The proposition that men are responsible for their moral
character, taken by itself," says Dr. Hodge, "is so capable
of demonstration, that all men do in fact believe it. Every
man feels it to be true with regard to himself, and knows it
to be true with regard to others. All self-condemnation
and self-approbation rest on the consciousness of this truth.
All our judgments regarding the moral conduct of others
are founded on the same assumption. It is, therefore, one
of those truths which is included in the universal consciousness of men, and has in all ages and nations been assumed
as certain. MAen cannot really doubt it, if they would. On
i
194
~ 132 
NO GROUND FOR REJECTION.
the other hand, it is no less certain that our character does
depend in a measure upon circumstances beyond our con trol; upon our original constitution, upon education, upon
prevalent habits and opinions, upon Divine influence, etc.
All this is proved by experience and observation.   Here
then are two facts resting on independent evidence, each
certain, and each by itself securing general assent. Yet we
see men constantly disposed to bring up the one against the
other; and argue against their responsibility, because they
are dependent, or against their dependence, because they are
responsible.   In like manner the proposition that man is a
free agent, commands immediate and universal assent, because it is an ultimate fact of consciousness.   It can no
more be doubted than we can doubt our own existence.
Side by side, however, with this intimate persuasion of our
moral liberty, lies the conviction, no less intimate, of our inability to change, by merely willing to do so, either our
belief or our affections, for which, as before stated, every
man knows himself to be responsible.   Perhaps few men,perhaps no man,-can see the harmony of these truths; yet
they are truths, and as such are practically acknowledged
by all men. Again, all experience teaches us that we live
in a world of means; that knowledge, religion, happiness,
are all to be sought in a certain way, and that to neglect the
means is to lose the end.
"It is, however, no less true that there is no necessary or
certain connection between the means and the end; that
God holds the result in His own hands and decides the issues
according to His sovereign pleasure. In all the ordinary
affairs of life, men submit to this arrangement and do not
~ 132
195 
EVIL AND TEMPTATION:
hesitate to use means, though the end is uncertain  and
beyond their control. But in religion, they think this uncertainty of the result a sufficient excuse for neglect."*
With this comes the following profound thought, expressed
by Sir W. Hamilton with the felicity and sustained by the
power of which he is so great a master: "It will argue nothing
against the trustworthiness of consciousness, that all or any of
its deliverances are inexplicable-are incomprehensible; that
is, that we are unable to conceive through a higher notion
how that is possible which the deliverance avouches actually
to be. To make the comprehensibility of a datum of consciousness the criterion of its truth, would be indeed the
climax of absurdity; for the primary data of consciousness,
as themselves the conditions under which all else is comprehended, are necessarily themselves incomprehensible. We
know, and can know only that they are, not how they can
be. "t
~ 133. e3. Incidental moral consequences of evil.
"De vitiis nostris sealam nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa calcamus," says St. Augustine; or, to take Mr. Longfellow's
paraphrase,
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
We may here find the ground-work of a peculiar com
* Hodge's Way of Life, p. 99.
t Hamilton's Reid, p. 745.  See post, ~ 241, etc.
196
~ 133 
INCIDENTAL DISCIPLINE.
munion with God; a communion so intimate, and so humble, as to exceed in its tender and pathetic love and its
grand meekness even the sublimest adoration of the untempted and sinless of the angelic creation.  "There is no
temptation," says John of Wesel, one of the greatest of the
pre-Lutheran reformers, "so great as not being tempted at
all." In other words, there is nothing so dangerous to the
love which is life, as that security which needs nothing to
cling to, and which has no recollection of personal unworthiness and misery forgiven and relieved by a pity at once so
tender and sublime.  This experience of sin is a great
teacher.  One, who if he may not be cited as a Christian
poet, may at least come before us as a sagacious and experienced judge of our common nature, thus writes:
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace;
MAight more of HIis salvation know
And seek more earnestly I-His face.
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request,
And by His love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins and give me rest.
Instead of this, He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.
"Lord, why is this?" I trembling cried,
",Wilt Thou pursue Thy worm to death?"
"'Tis in this way," the Lord replied,
"I answer prayer for grace and faith.
]7*
~ 133
197 
EVIL AND TEMPTATION:
"These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free,
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou may'st seek thy all in me."
~ 134. And ONE other, who, if Hie did not, according even
to modern positivism, speak divine truth, at least uttered
words of deep wisdom, said:  " SIMON, I HAVE SOMEWHAT TO SAY UNTO THEE. AND
HE SAITH, NASTER, SAY ON.
THERE WAS A CERTAIN CREDITOR WHICH HAD TWO DEBTORS:
THE ONE OWED FIVE HUNDRED PENCE, AND THE OTHER FIFTY.
AND WHEN THEY HAD NOTHING TO PAY, HE FRANKLY FORGAVE THEM BOTH.  TELL ME THEREFORE, WHICH OF THEM
WILL LOVE HIM MOST?
SIMON ANSWERED AND SAID, I SUPPOSE THAT HE TO WHOM
HE FORGAVE MOST. AND HIE SAID UNTO HiIM, THOU HAST
RIGHTLY JUDGED."
C2. As the necessary incidents of limited creatures.
~ 135. The argument in this connection may be thus stated:
The scheme of an ascending scale of beings, each of a distant
order and degree of power, is of all others the one most
consistent with the general good. To such a graduated
order of beings, metaphysical evil, at least, is essential.
Therefore metaphysical evil is essential to the highest standard we can propose for the general good.
We will examine the two premises in succession. The
scheme of an ascending scale of beings, each of a distinct
order and degree of power, is of all others the most consistent with the general good.
How far this scale ascends may be considered under an
198
~ 134-135 
INCIDENTAL DISCIPLINE.
other head.  It is enough to say, that as it descends almost
infinitely, and as from the lowest mollusc upward to man
there is a gradual rise, the presumption is that this ascent
continues. This, however, is not necessary to the strength
of the present argument. We may suppose that the scale
of creation terminates with man, and, even on this supposition, draw the following inferences:  ~ 136. a3. By a graduated scale there is room for the
exercise of charity and an interchange of favors.
Wordsworth touches very delicately on this in that fine
passage in which he speaks of the hardness of temper of
those who herd and browse only
In the grove of their own kindred.
The association merely with those who stand with us in a
high scale of comfort hardens the heart, and, in hardening
it, closes up many avenues of pleasure.   Cicero* carries
this to the irrational as well as the rational creation:"Accedit ad non nullorum animantium, et earum rerum quas
terras gignit, conservationem et salutem, hominum  etiam
solertia et diligentia.   Nam  multe et pecudes, et stirpes
sunt, que sine procuratione hominum salve esse non possunt." And even in the inanimate creation a similar teaching may be found. It is in the inequalities of the heavenly
bodies that consists their harmony. The earth and its sister
planets, inferior as they are in size and lustre, derive a comfort from the sun such as perhaps its splendor may not
enable it to impart to itself. The moon waits on the earth,
Do  Nat. Deoim:m, lil). ii. c.  )2.
~ 136
199 
METAPHYSICAL EVIL:
ministering, as it were, to its wants, lifting up and down its
tides so as to rinse the reedy banks of the remote  river, as
well as to agitate, and thereby refine the ocean.  And, on
the other hand, it is by these inequalities that the grander
bodies are kept in their orbits.
~ 137. Now, these analogies are not without value in determining the important relations of the different grades of
rational as well as irrational creatures.   "Reduce the creation to a perfect equality," says Dr. Chauncey, (on the
Benevolence of the Deity, p. 201,) " and all participation of
that part of the Creator's happiness, the communication of
good, is at once necessarily destroyed. For, where the same
perfection and happiness, both in kind and degree, is at all
times equally possessed by all beings, it is evident that good
cannot possibly be communicated from one to another. And
can it be imagined that the Deity would pitch upon a plan
for the communication of good, which would render it impracticable for any of his creatures, either to resemble Him
in that which is His greatest glory, or to partake, in any
measure, of that which is His greatest pleasure? There is
no truly benevolent mind but will readily be reconciled to a
diversity in beings, rather than the pleasure of communicating good should be excluded from creation. And excluded it must be, if there is not some diversity.  Ulpon any
other supposition, not one being in the creation could be
the object of another's beneficence; and, consequently, the
noblest and most truly Divine pleasure, that which arises
from doing good, could not have place in the whole circle of
existing creatures. So that it is evident a diversity of beings
is so far from being an objection against infinite benevolence
~ 137
200 
~ 138-139   NECESSARY TO CREATED) TIIINGS.
that it really flows from it as its proper cause.  There could
not have been the manifestation of so much goodness, if
there had not been some difference between the creatures
brought into existence.   And the least attention will obviously lead any one to determine that, if goodness may be
the cause of any diversity at all, no stop can be made without continuing it down through all variety of orders, so long
as the balance shall turn in favor of happiness, or, in other
words, so long as existence can be called a good, and pronounced better than not to be."
~ 138. b3. By a graduated scale the earth will be most
thoroughly po)pulated, and human comfort best promoted.
"Its different elements and different climates," says
Mr. Fleming, in his excellent Plea for the ways of God,
"are obviously fitted for affording the means of life and
enjoyment to different orders of beings, and, accordingly,
every element and every climate have their appropriate inheritants.  Multitudes of swift and brilliant creatures tread
the sands of the southern zone: striped zebras and spotted
leopards; while the frost-bitten regions of the north are
traversed by the dull ox and the dark wolf. Even the cold
ice is tenanted by the shaggy bear. The horse gallops across
the plains, while the eagle builds his nest on the crags of
the rock; the insect sports in the sunbeam, while the leviathan takes his pastime in the mighty waters."
~ 139. Now, this view might be extended so as to introduce the human race. The restless and adventurous temper
of the pioneer leads him to those Western forests where,
himself passing beyond the blazed oak, he surveys, by the instruments only of a hunter's instinct, the road which a corn
201 
GRADUATED BEING:
ing nation is to travel. Hle dies poor, and his solitary grave
lies unmarked in the woods, but he has enjoyed a life of
wild pleasure which he would not have exchanged for one
on a monarch's throne, and he leaves his grave as the base
on which civilization couches as it is about to make a new
spring. And on each member of the procession that follows
him, individuality sets its special stamp and gives to him its
peculiar impulse. The brawny arm and strong nerve of one
stations him in the blacksmith's shop, where, day after day,
he strains and bakes himself over the anvil in an occupation
most useful to the community, but, at the same time, very
ungenial to those who may not be led to it by a special taste.
An instinct for bartering and peddling drives forth another
in the advance-guard of the same procession, and the cloth ing-store opens its windows and displays its goods in the
new-built village.   So it is throughout.  Were there  an
equal uniformity of taste, of means, of capacity, either the
northern seas would not be fretted with the harpoon, or, if
we suppose the passion to be universal, the pursuit of the
gigantic ocean-game would engross the great mass of the
young energies of the lanfd. So with that remarkable mechanical dexterity which, when whetted by poverty, moves,
to take a single illustration, into the cotton field, and there,
with a series of revolving spikes, disentangles the knotted
'fibres of the cotton-plant; then passes to the landing, and
packs the bales on the deck of the low-pressure boat that
disturbs the sluggish Southern stream; then drops to the
factor's warehouse, and calls into its aid a new class of energies, those of ocean commerce; then puts in motion the
factory, with its myriads of workmen, and, at last, the sew
202
~ 139 
NECESSARY TO SOCIETY.
ing machine, which supports the solitary seamstress. Without diversity of gifts, and without the inequalities of fortune,
on the one side to supply the capital, on the other the labor,
this great element of national prosperity and personal comfort could not have existed. And the same reason applies
to every other industrial enterprise by which the general
good has been advanced.  Inequality is the soul of enterprise and the spring of prosperity; horizontal wealth and
uniform capacity would be nothing else than unbroken
penury.
c3. By a graduated scale a stimulus is afforded for enterprise and roomii for improvement.
~ 140. This proposition, in its first branch, has already
been touched upon.   In its second, it is self-demonstrative.
Perfection must necessarily be stationary.   To leave room
for progress requires imperfection.   Mr. Addison, with his
usual elegance, likens the soul, in its relation to its Creator,
"to one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer
to another, for all eternity, without a possibility of touching: and can there be a thought so transporting," he inquires, "as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches to Him who is not only the standard of perfection,
but of happiness?"
Having now shown that an ascending scale of beings,
each of a distinct order and degree of power, is, of all
schemes, the most consistent with the general good, we proceed to the minor premise, viz., that to such a scale, metaphysical evil, at least, is essential.
~ 141. Take, as the lowvest phase, the mere evil of incapacity. That this is an evil,-that the struggling in even a
~ 140-141
203 
METAPHYSICAL EVIL:
single direction against an impassable barrier,-the imprisonment even of one class of energies within a cell against
whose grated windows they are ever chafing and torturing
themselves in order to escape to the infinite beyond,-that
these things are evils, no one can doubt. But some limitation is essential to all created beings.   For, even supposing
the creature to have no actual corporeal or even psychical
limit, it is inseparable from the very fact of createdness
that there should be the moral limit of a consciousness of
having been created, accompanied, it may be, with that oppressive sense of dependence which Milton points out to us
as the cause of the revolt of the Archangel Satan.
But besides this, bounds are necessary to the existence
of all created things. To people the world with a series of
vagrant and penetrable spirits, each capable of occupying
or passing through the other, with no coherence or shape,
even if it were wise, would not be possible. For individuality there must be shape; for shape, deprivation; to
deprivation, metaphysical evil is an essential requisite.
~ 142. But, it may be said, this difficulty might be obviated
by creating only the highest of all orders of creation, and
imparting to it the greatest degree of happiness.   Now it
has already been shown that this would not produce the
desired end of the maximum of aggregate happiness. But
the creation of an order such as is here spoken of is itself
an absurdity.  The pleasures of self-denial, of benevolence,
of self-reliance, could not enter into the character of these
desolate and unpitying inhabitants of such austere and baseless heights. And nothing is more limited than the very compact and unvarying mass of maximum beatitude which the
204
~ 142 
LOWLY HAPPINESS.
hypothesis assumes.   "A triangle," says Mr. IHayes, in his
very ingenious essay on Divine Benevolence, "may be made
as large as you please, yet the largest possible cannot be;
for such a one could not be a triangle, which is a surface
bounded with three straight lines. In like manner, we may,
I apprehend, speak in relation to the happiness and perfection of the universe. God may make it as happy and as perfect
as Hle pleases, and may continually increase this in any proportion He thinks fit; but still, I apprehend, it is capable
of this increase, without limits, and without end; and that
to suppose the greatest possible quantity of happiness or
perfection diffused through it, is to suppose that there is a
certain fixed and determinate quantity of happiness and
perfection, beyond which it is impossible even for the power
of God to proceed, which, I must own, seems to me absurd.
So that to argue against the goodness of God because there
is not the greatest quantity of happiness and perfection in the
universe, is to use an argument that can have no force, since,
if put into form, one of the premises is unintelligible."
d3. TVhat may to the human eye be a lower and inferior
scale of happiness, may to a higher vision occupy a reversed position.
~ 143. "We can see," says Hugh Miller, in the last and
most graphic of his works,* "how in the pre-Adamic ages
higher should have succeeded lower dynasties. To be low
was not to be immoral; to be low was not to be guilt-stained
and miserable. The sea-anemone on its half-tide rock, and
the fern on its mossy hill-side, are low in their respective
* The Testimony of the Rocks, p. 262.
1s
~ 14.3
205
~k 
INFERIORITY:
kingdoms; but they are, notwithstanding, worthy, in their
quiet, unobtrusive beauty, of the God who formed them."
And even after the human period this truth holds good.
The aged pauper in the work-house, who, when taunted with
his uselessness, and asked what he was doing, replied, "only
waiting," may in the divine scale be a happier as well as
sublimer object than even the archangel, who, with the most
splendid powers and the most exquisite sensibilities for delight, is engaged in the active service of the Most High.
MIilton touches on this in these fine lines,
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this (lark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
,Iy true account, lest iHe, returning, chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask: but patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Ilim best: HIis state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
Andpost o'er land and ocean without rest;
Thtey also serve, who only stand and wait."
~ 144. Now even assuming that the nominally inferior
classes, whether in the moral or physical creation, are endowed with a degree of happiness which, though lower in
grade, is still definite and positive, are we to limit the divine
power, and say, that after the creation of the higher and
more perfect order, the divine energies are exhausted and
are incapable of further creative action?
206
~ 144 
NOT MISERY.
To these remarks it may be added-and on this point I
must acknowledge my indebtedness to an eminent living
psychologist, Mr. Isaac Taylor-that in a human state
limitation is an ingredient in a full perception of beauty.
"The beautiful in nature seldom presents itself otherwise
than under some conditions of imperfection and limitation.
The flower-garden has its cankers and its blights, and its
fading and decaying splendors. The bright landscape of
June suggests a contrast with the rigors and discomforts of
February. The beauty of the material world is just bright
and fair enough to stimulate that imaginative faculty the
creations of which could never be acclimated to earth. So
it is that this sense, which opens to us so much of pure and
intense enjoyment which can never be realized unless it be in
some brighter and distant sphere. From the cottage flowergarden such as shows itself on a summer morning, there is
a pathway which the imaginative man does not fail often to
tread, leading to the unknown and infinite, even to a world
of absolute beauty, and of beauty never to decay.
On a path that is still more direct, the human mind finds
its way toward the unknown and the infinite, when we stand
in presence of those objects in nature which give rise to the
emotions of sublimity. In front of Alpine altitudes, with
their vast upheaved masses, commingled cloud, rock, glacier,
cataract, there is excited not simply admiration and awe, but
there is a feeling that these terrestrial marvels are samples
only, shown off upon this planet in order to suggest to man
the idea of scenes in some other world still more stupendous.  If earth has its Alps, and its Andes, and its Ilimalayas, what shall be the spectacle of awe which a world unknown might open to our gaze?
~ 144
207 
SORROW:
Telluric catastrophes, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes,
deluges, and whatever else combines ideas of destructive
force with the conception of sublimity, has a further influence in carrying the mind, if it be sensitive in this manner,
into those abysses of imaginative terror where the unknown
and the infinite may be conceived of as unveiling their powers
to the utmost.
There is yet a path which may be trod with less trepidation and with more fruit and advantage. The nocturnal
heavens may, at first glance, seem more magnificent than
sublime; but undoubtedly it is sublime when, by aid of
reason, we penetrate this magnificence and become cognizant
of the reality beyond. Now, there is here to be noted a
change in our modes of thought which has been long in
progress, and which is now advancing toward its consummation. This consummation will bring with it a consciousness
of relationship, to the unknown and infinite of a far more
substantial and impressive kind than hitherto has been admitted. "*
d1. Th7e defects and evils complained of are, in many
cases, productive of positive good.
a2. Sorrow.
~ 145. Longfellow gives but a sad view even of sorrow
in the following lines:
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rlachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforter.
* World of Mind, p. 316.
208
~ 145 
ITS USES.
Let us be patient! these severe afflictions
Not fromra the ground arise.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly through the mists and vapors
Amid these earthly damps;
TVI/at seent to us but sad, funereal tapers
ilay be heaven's distant lamps.
Far different is the confidence of the Christian:
I KNOW, is all the mourner saith,
Knowledge by sorrow entereth,
And life is perfected in death.
~ 146. Sorrow may also be not only the guide to, but the
test by which true religion may be discovered. It may be
opaque enough when merely worldly comforts attempt to
illuminate it; but when a light from above falls on it, it not
only receives that light itself, but, like the camera, collects
and exhibits the truth all the more vividly from the darkness
in which it is itself enveloped. Sorrow thus has come to
us possessed with a wonderful gift of discrimination.   The
soul goes to the world for aid, and turns sadly away with
her face all the darker, for there she finds no response. It is
otherwise in religion. It is not that the religious man does
not grieve. He does so, and all the more deeply from the
fact that the narcotics taken by men of the world have no
effect on him. But the very profoundness of his grief gives
him a depth and fullness in his hope. iHe may be crushed
by the death-bed of one whom he loves, but there is a grand
18*
209
146
El 
SORROW:
anthem, ringing in his ears, sung by the spirits of the departed as well as of those present in the body: I KNOW
THAT MY REDEEMER LIVETH. It may be that in this we
find a primary purpose of sorrow. And let it not be said
that this purpose is unimportant. For, assuming that there
be a future state, how immensely important it is that there
should be a monitor to point out the real sanctions by which
that state is governed.
Sorrow, however, besides this, exercises a direct subjective
influence on the human heart, which, in itself, is evidence of
a Father's care. A painter, to adopt an illustration from
another, was working at fresco on the ceiling of a lofty
church. He was standing on a scaffolding, toward the unguarded edge of which he was slowly backing, absorbed in
perfecting the figure on which he was engaged, and unconscious of the danger he was approaching. In a moment he
would have been dashed on the pavement below, when one
of his companions, seeing but one way to save him, suddenly threw a wet brush against the picture. The painter
sprang forward to prevent the mischief, and, in so doing,
saved his life. And it may be one of the chief evidences of
the gentleness of the probationary government of God, that
in this way, by apparently defacing an earthly image, the
heart is turned from the idolatry of the human to the love
of the spiritual and infinite.  Nor is this all.  Human affections, e.g., those of the child to the parent, and of the parent
to the child, are thus the instruments by which the impulses
of true and disinterested love are called out and placed in
training for a future more exalted sphere. They are, in this
210
~ 146
Bit
',n 
ITS DISCIPLINE.
sense, the trellises around which the affections are at first
supported, until, by the Divine discipline, and by the cutting
away of the merely earthly stay, these affections turn upward to heaven.
~ 147. The effect on others of the discipline may also be
taken into account. To this the grand emotion of compassion is mainly due.  Thus, Dr. Paley says, "One man's
sufferings may be another man's trial. The family of a sick
parent is a school of filial piety. The charities of domestic
life, and not only these, but all the social virtues, are called
out by distress. But then misery, to be the proper object
of mitigation, or of that benevolence which endeavors to
relieve, must be really or apparently casual. It is upon such
sufferings alone that benevolence can operate. For, were
there no evils in the world but what were punishments, properly and intelligibly such, benevolence would only stand in
the way of justice."
And besides the refinement of human nature that is thus
produced, it should not be forgotten that of all champions of
the truth there is none more effective than the propagandism
of meek and wise suffering. Conscious attempts to manage
others, even if these attempts are successful, are but ephemeral in their effects, for there is always a feeling that some
part at least of the object of the actor is display, if not advancement. Hence it is that even real reforms, when pressed
by artificial agitation, move forward with so much uncertainty.
But it is otherwise with those which are lived as well as
preached; which are vindicated, not on the battle-field or
in the senate-chamber, but in the lives and death of that
i 1
~ 14
211 
~ 148-149
noble company of obscure confessors, whose office it is, on
the sick-bed, in the hard home of poverty, under the stress
of many afflictions, to show that beyond all the institutions
of the statesman, is a meek and hopeful submission under
adversity, and a calm trust in Hleaven.
b. Pain.
a3. It preserves identity.
~ 148. The sense of pain is vested, with one or two exceptions to be hereafter noticed, entirely in the skin. Even
in some of apparently the most painful operations, when the
surgeon cuts the deepest, the pain disappears after the skin
is cut through, only to reappear when the instrument, on extending its incision, touches the orifice from beneath. Even
the heart, whose connection with the sensibilities is so remarkable that its expansion or contraction at sudden good
or bad news often produces death, is not susceptible of actual pain. A nobleman of the Montgomery family, we are
told, whose chest had been so opened by a fistulous affection
that the heart was exposed to the touch, was brought to Dr.
HIarvey for examination. The organ was found to be entirely
insensible.   "I then brought him," said this accurate observer as well as great discoverer, "to the king that he
might behold and touch so extraordinary a thing, and that
he might perceive, as I did, that unless we touched the outer
skin, or when he saw our fingers in the cavity, this young
nobleman knew not that we touched the heart." So it is
that the brain, when in like manner exposed, may be even
pared away without sense of pain.
~ 149. Now, in this view let us contemplate the wisdom
of the process by which the features which compose the
212
PAIN: 
IT PRESERVES IDENTITY.
human face are thus sealed and sheltered In itself, this
individualism of the countenance is an impressive proof of
a Divine contriver and of a future destiny. When we recollect that of the millions who inhabit the face of the earth,
no two have ever been found so exactly alike as to baffle,
when full opportunities were given, the power of discrimination; when we recollect how numerous are the purposes
which this individualism of countenance subserves, how
without it the sanctities of home, the security of commerce,
the peace of society would be destroyed,-we may admire
the wisdom and the benevolence by which this most exquisite of mechanisms is constructed. The design of one original
distinctive human face, as it rises forth under the sculptor's
chisel from the marble block, draws from us a recognition of
the artist's genius almost in proportion as the marks of individuality of expression are blended with the signs of
ideal power. How much greater should be our admiration
of the handiwork  of the Great Artificer by whom  this
sculptury, not on the solid block, but on the much more
subtle and yielding material of the face, is indefinitely multiplied and perfected! And there is a point in this individuality of expression which takes us a step beyond this. It
is as if we should enter into a large chamber where are collected an immense number of keys, each with a ward of a
distinct pattern. We would at once draw two inferencesfirst, that of a designing and contriving cause; and, second,
that of a purpose, i.e. a room which each key is meant to
open. And thus in the distinct individuality of the myriads
of faces with whom we meet, we may recognize not only the
divine workmanship, but the future distinct destiny of each.
I I7
~ 149
213 
~ 150-151
"In my Father's house are many mansions." The severance
of the mansions which these distinct individualities will
open,-the continuance, in other words, in the next world
of that individualism which exists here, may be drawn from
an examination of this complex mechanism with almost as
great certainty as may the existence of a contriving first
cause.
~ 150. It is in the preservation of this individuality that
we can find a reason for the sense of pain. An injunction
is thus laid on all attempts to alter the distinctive marks of
the countenance. Were the face as insensible to pain, and
as susceptible of change, as the hair and nails, the whole of
human confidence would be destroyed. The murderer would
go into the surgeon-artist's hands and come out a philanthropist; men would be personated by others in the families, in the bank, in the exchange, in the senate. Sheridan,
when recovering from a debauch, after a late session of
the House of  Commons, when  asked his name  by the
watchman by whom he was picked up, answered "Wilberforce." The joke, for such it was, became for a moment a
reality, and the excellent and pure statesman whose name
was assumed, found himself for a day or two the subject of
quite an unusual notoriety. But what would it be if false
personation could be so sustained by a little plastic skill as
to baffle the perceptions of the most acute?
~ 151. Now how, a priori, could a means be adopted to
preserve this individuality? Human wisdom might suggest
to seal it with an impenetrable cement. But Divine wisdom
has doubled the guard. Not only is the surface so composed as to be in the highest degree unplastic, but the sense
214
PAIN: 
IT DEFENDS LIFE.
of pain is so stationed as to prevent any attempt at change
of identity. And it is a remarkable fact, that among the
numberless devices to which criminals have resorted to prevent detection, we do not find a case recorded where this was
attempted by an alteration of the features.
b3. Pain defends life.
~ 152. Let it be suspended, and we then will be ready
enough to admit the value of its active aid. The delicious
lull of the sensibilities which is experienced by those who
yield to the drowsiness produced by extreme cold, indicates
the approach of death, because it arises from the silencing
of those sleepless monitors by whom the gates of life are
guarded. Several parallel cases are recorded of persons
who have laid down to rest in cold weather on lime-kilns,
and who, stupefied by the carbonic acid, have either been
killed by the heat, or have had their limbs partially consumed, of which fact, however, they were not aware until
they attempted to use them. By patients who have had
limbs removed when under the influence of chloroform, the
same subsequent unconsciousness is exhibited.   "A  man
who had his finger torn off," we are told by Sir Charles
Bell, "so as to hang by the tendon only, came to a pupil of
Dr. Hunter. I shall now see, said the surgeon, whether this
man has any sensibility in his tendon.   He laid a cord along
the finger, and blindfolding the patient, cut across the tendon. Tell me, he asked, what have I cut across? Why,
you have cut across the cord, to be sure, was the reply."
Not only therefore is the action, but the location of pain,
adjusted to warn against real danger, and then, when its
office is completed, the watchman withdraws, inflicting no
~ 152
215 
~ 153-154
further distress than is actually necessary to discharge his
mission.
~ 153. We have another illustration of the importance of
pain, in the mischief following its suspension, in the cases of
those paralytics in whom sensibility is lost in the numbness
of disease, and whom, therefore, in order to prevent mortification of the flesh from the constant pressure produced by
lying in one position, it is necessary constantly to move.
In persons in health, nature performs the same office, at the
promptings of pain, by those constant though unconscious
movings by which even the deepest sleep is accompanied.
c3. Pain economizes strength.
~ 154. Fatigue, for instance, is the grand protector of the
muscular system against premature decay.   An instance has
lately been mentioned of a chemist who, in order to perfect
an experiment, kept himself awake and in the active exercise of his faculties for day and night during an entire week,
but who dropped down dead at the close of this period,
broken as it were to pieces in the same way that a spring
breaks on which is placed a constant and unrelieved pressure. Such, to speak of the higher faculties of the mind, was
the case with Hugh Miller, who plied a frame which in its
earlier years was used only to physical labor, until at last,
at the close of his final and most brilliant intellectual effort,
the nervous system suddenly crashed.* "I have got rid of
my headaches," said a man of eminent talents in our own
country not long since to a very capable observer, "and I
can now work uninterruptedly."   "You have  got rid of
* See post,. 157.
216
PATN:
I 
ITS PRESERVATIVE POWERS.
your safety-valves," was the reply, "and now prepare for an
explosion." Pain thus guards the intellect from the invasion of excess; and if the sentinel is drugged into silence,
the fortress is in danger.
~ 155. The same rule holds good with regard to the muscular powers. How vast, in the vivacity of youth, would
be the springs, how violent the blows struck by the hands
and feet, how protracted the exertion, were it not for this
sense of pain that comes and says, "Stop here; this is too
much for your strength; your hand or your foot will be
crushed by that shock; your body will be dashed to pieces
by that fall; your muscles will be worn out by those continued strains!" The sense of pain acts in this way as a
sort of subsidiary agency to keep up the integrity of the
animal system; and without it we would have men strewn
along the stream of life in wrecks,-limbs crushed in, sinews
sprung, shape deformed. And, by a singularly subtle contrivance, these functions of preliminary injunction against
waste are vested just in the authorities who can most efficiently exercise them, and are vested nowhere else. Acting,
as this power does, through a severe and summary discipline, it is no slight proof of the Divine wisdom, that it is so
economized as to be vested only in those organs and in those
quarters where its action is essential. Thus the muscles and
ligatures, so necessary to the easy working of the limbs, and
the cushions of cartilages in which the ends of the bones
play, communicate no pain when cut, for against an incised
wound, so far at least as is requisite to prescribe prudence
on the part of the patient, they are protected. But it is
otherwise with regard to strains and concussions, against
19
~ 155
211 
PAIN:
which the elastic skin, so sensitive to cuts, utters but slight
protest, while they are greeted by the muscles and ligatures
with a most clamorous outcry. The sprained foot, by which
prudence in jumping and leaping is taught, is equally em phatic with the sore cut which tells us it is necessary to be
cautious in the use of edged tools. And both serve a still
higher purpose in preserving the identity and individuality
of the human frame, and in checking empirical experiments.
Euripides tells us that the daughters of Pelias, on prescription of Mledea, who undertook to cure old age, cut
their aged father up, and put the pieces in a caldron, expecting him thus to come out young. Had the instincts of
pain given to Pelias himself been consulted, or had the
head surgeon and her assistants been made the first subjects
of the operation themselves, the experiment never would
have proceeded.
~ 156. The same remarkable distribution of this precautionary police, each department of it in the location to
which it is peculiarly adapted and nowhere else, is to be
found in the throat and windpipe. The texture of the windpipe is insensible to cuts, against which exterior guards are
appointed, but is keenly sensitive to the slightest speck or
crumb that threatens to pass the orifice. Now, how are
such invaders to be repelled? The practical answer is to be
found in a most ingenious system of defences by which this
main entrance is guarded. The epiglottis acts as a trapdoor, which lifts up during breathing, but flies immediately
to during swallowing. Then there is an exquisite irritability in the slit at the mouth of the windpipe, so that at
~ 156
218
k- 
IT HEIGHTENS PLEASURE.
the approach of the most insignificant assailant, it at once
bristles up and slams to its door.  As, however, this slip
must open at the next breath into the lungs, it is necessary
that a new set of guards should be set in motion, and this
is effected by a sympathy between the upper vein of the
windpipe and a reserve body of muscles below, who, in case
of the invader passing the first defence, throw themselves
into a state of vehement and clamorous resistance, of which
the well-known convulsive windpipe cough is the outer
manifestation.
~ 157. d3. The experience of pain, to limited agents, is
,necessary to the appreciation of pleasure.
It has been already observed how the common blessings of
life pass by unnoticed.  It is, in fact, an inseparable attribute of a limited being, that his attention, and power of
relish and appreciation, with his other faculties, grow weaker
in proportion to the period in which they are kept on the
stretch, until at last they cease to exist altogether. This we
know is the case with the eye, in which, if turned to a
specific object for any length of time, the power of vision
relaxes and is gradually dissipated. We have still more remarkable illustrations of this in the intellectual and nervous
powers. Unintermitted attention to any specific object,suppose it be a chemical experiment, as in a case already
mentioned, if it does not result in a torpor of the particular
faculties exercised, is apt to produce general insanity. From
this we may infer the principle that to enable the perception
to continue acute and vigorous, its forces must be periodically recalled to receive their tone either in a period of tor
~ 157
219 
PAIN:
por and inaction or through a positive corrective discipline.*
Now, both these methods are adopted. Sleep comes with
its torpor; dreams with their relaxation, when the traces
are unhitched, and the faculties are permitted to wander
purposeless over the great commons of speculation; and
reverie, where the same faculties are let loose with equal
freedom from immediate restraint, but still in a specially
assigned field.  Then, as a disciplinary adjunct, comes pain,
a part of whose purposes in this respect have already been
noticed.  Rest, in fact, seems to answer the purpose of recuperating the powers; pain, that of refining and invigorating them. The one may be compared to the sunlight and
the dew when acting on the plant; the other to the skill of
the gardener, which deepens the crimson of the rose, mottles
its damask, and almost indefinitely multiplies its petals;
which grafts on the hardy stock of the coarser stem the delicate stock of the weaker, and thus unites the strength of
the one with the perfectness in quality of the other, until,
from the hard and sour wild fruit, come the apple in its fullest
and most golden luxuriance, and the peach in its richest and
most luscious blush.  If we look, in fact, at the finest developments of human genius, we shall find that they have
been accompanied, in most instances, by some physical
deformity or more than usual proportion of pain: Milton
and Homer (if Pausanias be correct) by blindness; Scott
and Byron by lameness; Chatham by gout.
~ 158. Even still more remarkable are the physiological
alleviations of pain, some of which are thus strikingly ex
* See ante, i 154.
220
~ 158 
ITS ALLEVIATIONS.
hibited by Paley, in a chapter which is not diminished in
interest by the fact that it was written during an acute disease which afterwards proved fatal:-" It is seldom both
violent and long-continued: and its pauses and intermissions
become positive pleasures. It has the power of shedding a
satisfaction over intervals of ease, which, I believe, few enjoyments exceed. A man resting from a fit of the stone or
gout, is, for the time, in possession of feelings which undisturbed health cannot impart. They may be dearly bought,
but still they are to be set against the price.  Anrd, indeed,
it depends upon the duration and urgency of the pain whether they be dearly bought or not. I am far from being
sure that a man is not a gainer by suffering a moderate interruption of bodily ease for a couple of hours out of the
four-and-twenty. Two very common observations favor this
opinion: one is, that remissions of pain call forth, from
those who experience them, stronger expressions of satisfaction and of gratitude toward both the Author and the instruments of their relief, than are excited by advantages of
any other kind: the second is, that the spirits of sick men
do not sink in proportion to the acuteness of their sufferings, but rather appear to be roused and supported, not by
pain, but by the high degree of comfort which they derive
from its cessation, or even its subsidency, whenever that
occurs: and which they taste with a relish that diffuses some
portion of mental complacency over the whole of that mixed
state of sensations in which disease has placed them. "*
-: Nat. Theol., chip. xxvi.
19*
~ 158
221 
DEATH:
C2. Death.
a3. In its existe)nce.*
~ 159. Death is necessary to probation. Let us look, for a
moment, at the difficulties which would arise from a perpetuity of life. Let us notice, in the first place, the repugnancy of such perpetuity to anything like a beneficent distribution of property.   As it is, history tells us how injuriously society has been affected by the attempt to establish an
accumulating fund for even a limited period of time. The
Thelluson case is an illustration of this.  The testator left
a will providing that his large personal estate should be
vested in trustees with directions to accumulate the fund
for a hundred years. It was soon found that this would absorb all the floating capital of England. No step remained
but to break the will, and this was effected by a decision of
the House of Lords, which, though necessary, was clearly
unconstitutional. A statute was subsequently passed to declare all such trusts void, ab initio.
Suppose that such a capitalist as Girard should live forever.  If the division of talents and tastes continue as at
present, in which such a man as himself, amid all the varieties of parsimony and avarice on the one side, and of profulseness and thriftlessness on the other, would stand preeminent for his acquisitive and retentive powers, what a
scene would the world present, when such a genius, so intense, so capable, and so persistent, would be forever eating
into the very vitals of others and gorging with them its
* A portion of the remarks under this head w,s published by Hme
in the Episcopal Review for July, 1858.
III
222
~ 159
iL 
ITS PURPOSES.
already mammoth frame! Only one of two alternatives
would exist: one would be a series of violent proscriptive
confiscations, which would drive the capitalist in howling
rage before the face of a flock of prodigal pursuers, the very
necessities of whose character would soon again place them
at the feet of a foe made still more rapacious and remorseless
by the maltreatment he had received.
~ 160. Suppose, however, that the other alternative be
good, and that the man of wealth be permitted to go on and
accumulate indefinitely, as would be the case in a wellordered government in our own time. Soon all small properties would be absorbed in his immense estate. His rents, we
will suppose, would amount to a million of dollars in one year.
He cannot spend this amount, and he turns it, therefore, to
the purchase of new land, with a freshly augmented rental.
Now, this can only end in the destruction of all small
tenures, and, with them, would fall one of the most efficient
engines we have for the welfare and comfort of society.  No
one can pass along the country road or the city street without
seeing that to the tenant of the small farm, or of the small
house, a much more than average amount of happiness is
allotted.  He has just the amount of comfort about him that
best promotes health, without possessing that luxury which
generates disease and languor.   Labor-voluntary, and because voluntary, sweet-sufficient to employ, but not enough
to exhaust, is his.  Hope is his.  And yet this condition of
life, so peculiarly conducive to the well-being of society,
would be destroyed by a perpetuity of life, unless under circumnstances very different from our own.
Let us view, however, tile effect of perpetual life on the
liI
~ 160
223
w 
DEATIH:
controversies and wars of men. Death, we cannot but feel,
is a great pacificator.  The sturdy Massachusetts volunteer,
the resolute British guardsman, the reluctant Hessian, all
lie peaceably together under the corn-fields of Monmouth.
Napoleon, with the hatred of his intense and almost demoniac ambition, Charles X., with that of his stolid and
narrow bigotry, now lie quietly almost side by side. The
two duelists, who glared and fired at each other across the
table, now rest tranquilly, with their arms folded across their
breasts, in the same grave. Death quenches many a fire
which otherwise would have desolated the globe. Ambition,
when confined by the conditions of mortality, may, like the
steam-engine, traverse its appointed track usefully, if not
innocently. But, let the trains meet, let the snorting and
shrieking monsters dash to and fro over lines intersecting
each other indefinitely, and dismay and ruin ensue.
~ 161. See also what would be the condition of the
church. At the same moment, and that moment a perpetuity, she would be meeting each of the several shocks
which, in God's providence, have been heretofore distributed
among ages. There would be the coarse abuse of Paine;
the sly inuendo of Gibbon; the subtle sophism of Hinume,
armed by the imperial malignity of Julian.   In meeting
and repelling assaults so varied and so incessant, the danger
would be that the entire spiritual character of the church
would be lost. Fenelon, Leighton, Pascal, Martyn, would
give place to men such as Hildebrand, as Atterbury, as
Swift, as Bossuet, as Peter the Hermiit.   The saint would
be merged in the confessor, the confessor in the crusader.
The constant presence, in fact, either in things civil or
224
~ 161
.lk
4 l  
A PEACE-MAKER.
things ecclesiastical, of a hateful and hating adversary, is of
all influences the most calculated to destroy the peace and
embitter the temper.   To be conscious, even for a few days,
of the immediate and lowering attendance of a hostile eye,
of an eye sleepless, malign, and fierce, produces a restless
anxiety, under which there are few who will not writhe. But
let that eye be glaring on us ceaselessly and forever; let its
torn and bloody lids, Reguluslike, never close; let such eyes
be indefinitely multiplied, and let the object of their hate be
placed within their concentrated focal gaze, and we ask
whether there is any misery which would be greater than the
mere patient endurance of such an acute and eternal watch?
Yet such would be the sentinels that a perpetuity of life
would place around each of us, were the rivalries and animosities of our nature, unchecked by death, to be permitted
to grow and develop forever.
~ 162. We  may thus be permitted to regard death as the
wisest and most essential of checks introduced by the Divine
Government to preserve the harmony and equal relations of
society. MAlen are in this way bound over to keep the peace;
and the penalty of their recognizance is their existence now
and their happiness hereafter.   The necessity for the introduction of such a change is thus displayed by a late brilliant
writer:-" 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 the sign that the
earth should not henceforth be visited by such a catastrophe;
but contemporaneously with it, and in order to render such
an interposition no longer needful, there was to be a shorten
~ 162
225
k 
DEATH:
ing 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 discover, too, in the confusion of
tongues at Babel, and the consequent 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 would have prevented this world from
fulfilling the ends contemplated by its Divine Governor?"
~ 163. Let us view the effect of such a system on the oppressed.   There is no wretchedness so great as that of
satiety. The canker-worm, when it reaches the tree-top,
drops and dies. The canker-worm of ambition does the
same. It weeps when there are no more worlds to conquer,
and expires in a debauch.  There is no more impressive sight
than that of desolate power looking to the grave for rest.
For the higher the station the greater the strippedness. The
tree that might hold its leaves almost through the winter in
the valley, scatters them on the mountain-top at the first
frost. There is, indeed, desolateness enough in advanced
years without this.  "It is one of the painful consequences
of old age," said Chancellor Kent, when pronouncing a
decree in a contested will case, "that it ceases to excite interest, and is apt to be left solitary and neglected.  The
control which the law gives to a man over the disposal of
his property is one of the most efficient means which he has
in a protracted life to command the attention due to his infirmities." It is, therefore, not love, but money that must
226
~ 163
ill 
A PEACE-MAKER.
be relied on to secure comfort in advanced years. But how
wretched must be the heart when this conviction grows over
it! Need we wonder at the utter faithlessness and bitterness by which extreme and powerful old age is so often
marked; the corroding and corrosive suspiciousness of a
Du Bois; the subtle treachery of an Alexander VI.; the
luxuriant cruelty of a Tiberius?
Of this desolating influence of an old age of power we have
a most striking illustration in the last days of Charles V.
There are few men whom we would suppose more likely to
rise above such an influence. In his youth and manhood he
had been tolerant, if not generous.  iHe respected Luther's
safe conduct, though ecclesiastical authority was ready
to pronounce it null.  Hie granted liberty of conscience,
under certain limits, to his Protestant subjects; and ihe
afterwards maintained these grants inviolate. He made
war on Rlome, and even took the sovereign pontiff captive.  Nor were his declining years without the softening
influence of family affection.  HIis two sisters, the dowagerqueens of France and Portugal, accompanied him to his
retirement and solaced him with their reverent love.  Hiis
son, when accepting the crown, continued to bestow on the
father who surrendered it to him, unabated filial affection.
The dying emperor, also, had everything around him calculated to impress him with a sense of the immediate responsibility of death. The Miserere of the choir in the monastery
of St. Justus swung across the nave of the chapel into the
communicating windows of his own chamber. Hiis coffin
lay open by his side; yet, amid all these solemnizing and
affecting associations, his mind became the more and more
',ll!
~ 163
227 
DEATH:
inflamed by a dark and malign bigotry. He knew not how
to tolerate heretics any longer. He addressed, day after
day, letters to his daughter, the Regent, urging fire and the
sword as the punishment of those who would deny the dogmas of the Romish Church.  Had he continued to have
lived and reigned, he would have seamed the heart of Europe
with a burning share. Well it was for the world that the
shades of Estramaduros fell on him, and that the open coffin
at last closed.
But if the grave ends the turbulence of the oppressor,
much more does it bring rest to the oppressed.
" THERE THE WICKED CEASE FROM TROUBLING, AND THERE
TIlE WEARY BE AT REST; THERE THE PRISONERS REST TOGETHER; THEY HEAR NOT THE VOICE OF THE OPPRESSOR.
THE SMALL AND GREAT ARE THIERE; AND THE SERVANT
IS FREE FROM HIS MASTER."
~ 164. Death, however, does something more than close
the wrongs of the oppressor and the sufferings of the oppressed. It is, after all, the great lesson that teaches us
the insignificance of things material and sensual.
Mlors sola fitetur
Quantula sint hominum corpuscula.
It is the magician who resolves the illusions of fancy and
ambition. We may look forward to ourselves at one moment as crowned'with the poet's laurels, but in the next
moment the laurels drop and the shroud follows.   Mr.
Pitt stands one day overwhelmed with the adulations of
place-men and would-be place-men, and walks austerely
through the House of Commons in all the arrogance with
~ 164
228
FPI
I -k 
AN OBLIVION.
which his natural haughtiness led him to wield his now undisputed sway. The next moment, a traveler passing by an
almost deserted villa at Putney, enters an open door and
sees lying unwatched on its bed the body of the just departed premier. Worship due only to God is paid to
Louis XV. as he totters from the scenes of his debauch to
the bed where the smallpox is soon to seize him! Contempt and loathing, such as would scarcely be visited on the
meanest pauper, are his as he lies a weltering and putrid
corpse. And even the good meet with the same oblivion.
The right arm of Whitefield, which formed so important an agent in his wonderful eloquence, was lately filched
from its grave at Newburyport and carried about Europe
as a sight. Mr. Madison's grave is distinguished only by
an unlettered stone.  That of Marion is hidden beneath
the undisturbed moss. And who is there who passes to and
fro in the crowd of population by the Presbyterian buryingground at Princeton, that takes time to consider that there
lie, side by side, the remains of Jonathan Edwards and Aaron
Burr?
~ 165. But if death be a monitor to teach us the unworthiness of all things human, it is also an executioner to
bring the probationer to account. The trial of life, when
this dread officer of divine law arrives, is over. He who has
been tried has had every opportunity given to him which
Divine mercy can extend. There must be at some time a
final account. The balance must be struck at some definite
period, in order that the Judge may speak. Death, therefore, enters into the very essence of probation.
How far death is anl element in intellectual progress, is
20
~ 165
229
En~ 
THE MANNER OF DEATH:
noticed in the following striking remarks:-" Perhaps it
may seem to some of you as a startling paradox, but it is
nevertheless a fact, that the shortness of human life is one
of the most powerful elements of human progress. It
would seem as if, as the human mind grows and develops, the
philosophy and opinions which govern the conduct of life
continue to be modified and moulded, until about the age of
twenty-five or thirty, when the character becomes unchangeable, opinions become prejudices, and the whole mind, as it
were, petrified. Further progress would be impossible, but
that another generation, with minds still plastic, comes forward, takes up and carries on the work a few steps, and
becomes petrified in its turn. There are certainly some
noble exceptions to this rule-instances of minds which with
their maturity retain the plasticity of youth-but the very
rarity of the exception only proves the rule."*
b3. In its manner.
a4. Its unexpectedeaness.
~ 166. What would be the effect of an announcement of
the period in which death is to occur, we may determine
from a consideration of those cases in which such announcement was really supposed to be made. "The apprehension," says Mr. Dendy, in his "Philosophy of Mystery,"
"of a misfortune or fatality, may prove its cause."  Of this
we have an illustration given in the case of Glaphyra, mentioned by Josephus, who believing herself warned by the
spectre of a deceased husband of approaching death, gradually, as if in obedience to the command, prepared herself
* Report Smithsonian Institute, 1857, p. 124.
230
~ 166
11 
ITS UNEXPECTEDNESS.
to die. Lord Lyttleton's death, now attributed to suicide
after a similar supposed supernatural warning, brings us to
the same conclusion. Take also the following case, which
occurred some years ago in the neighborhood of Philadelphia. The cholera was at that time raging in the city, and
a farmer in excellent health, by way of a practical joke, was
accosted by a series of medical students, each with the information that he was showing symptoms of the epidemic.
"You  certainly ought to be careful."   "You have the
marks of the incipient disease." "Pardon me for interrupting you, but you ought at once to go home, and take
immediate advice." The man went home, and was seized
with the Asiatic cholera in its most unequivocal shape. To
the same effect is the result of an experiment said to have
been tried by Frederick William III. of Prussia. Six persons condemned to death were by royal permission selected
as the objects of a medical experiment as to the contagiousness of cholera.   Three of them were placed in beds of
persons who had died of the disease, but without notice of
the fact; three others were informed that they would be so
exposed, but were placed in beds with no such supposed infection.   Those who had warning were all attacked with
the disease, and one of them, at least, fatally; the others
escaped.   Of a similar character are the cases, which are not
rare, of persons who, in undergoing a mock execution, have
really died of fright. And the only instances that Scripture
gives us of a prophetic intimation of the time of death, are
those of Saul and Sapphira; and in these, the effect was instantaneous. Saul, when he heard he was to be slain in the
approaching battle, was "sore afraid," and fell paralyzed to
231
~ 166 
IGNORANCE OF FUTURE:
the ground.   And though the fate of Sapphira was  the
result of a direct divine command, yet the accompaniment of
the mere annunciation of this command was immediate death.
~ 167. Even were a destruction of the vital powers not to
follow, there would be in almost every case a suspension of the
nervous energies. Could Mr. Hiuskisson have seen the time
and the circumstances of his own premature death on the
railway, it is not likely that his powers, down to the last
moment, would have been devoted to perfecting those beneficial schemes of economy, to one of which he fell a victim.
The internal improvements of New York would scarcely
have received from De Witt Clinton the powerful impulse
that inaugurated them, had that capable and indefatigable
statesman known that he was to be taken from the work
almost in early manhood,-that the energies spent on it
would, by his premature death, be unrequited, either to his
family or himself, and that he was to be laying the cornerstone of those whom he regarded as his political adversaries.
So it is in social life. The fool in the Scriptures would
never have built his house and barn, if he had known that
this was to be the signal of the awful message that that
night his soul was to be demanded of him.
Perhaps we might rise from this to a still higher induction, and take the ground that ignorance of the future is
essential to the healthy action of the individual man. In
this the epicureanism of Horace unites with the asceticism
of Milton. The one, in obedience merely to his gay yet
shrewd love of ease, writes,
Tu ne quesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi
Finem Dii dederint.
232
~ 167 
ITS ADVANTAGE.
And Milton, with his grander sweep, tells us,
Let no man seek
Ilenceforth, to be foretold wlhat shall befall
Him or his children; evil, he may be sure,
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent;
And he the future evil shall, as less
In apprehension than as substance, feel
Grievous to bear.
On home this knowledge of the future would fall with
a double oppressiveness. No man can deny this who, to
take the suggestion of a recent impressive writer,* looks
back upon his greatest personal sorrow, and inquires what
would have been the effect had he all along known of its
approach.   The young child, who gives so much of the
purest peace to its parents,-what would their feelings be
if they were to see before them, from its very birth, the
little waxen form stretched in its early coffin? The wife,
whose comfort and pride it is to throw the delights of home
around her husband,-Ihow would her heart sink within her
and her hand fail, if in the centre of that home in the
decorating and refining of which for another's sake she had
bestowed so much care, she were to see that other stretched
on the bier, with his hands folded over his breast, and his
face bound in the bandages of death? Would the mansion,
whose erection has employed so much labor or has evolved
and perpetuated so much architectural taste,-would it have
reared its marble front, had its owner known that the first
pageantry it was to witness was to be that of his' own death?
* Rev. John Caird, Sermon on Solitariness of Christ's Sufferings.
20*
~ 167
233
4i 4 
DEATH:
Who would keep up the light of hope in the heart or the
preparations of welcome in the home, if months or years in
advance the wreck of the ship were seen in all its sublime
horror? As it is, life lifts an unpenetrable screen before
the grave, hiding the path of approach. It is thus we have
freedom to hope, energy to undertake, calmness to execute.*
b4. Its shape.
~ 168. Sudden death is in itself often a mercy. Hle who,
when advised of his approaching death, turned to the wall
and wept bitterly, saying, "I shall see man no more in the
land of the living," recalls to us the instinctive feelings of
our race when the probability of death is brought home to
us at a period when the sensibilities are in health and vigor.
Those who have witnessed the breaking, as it is called, of
such news to persons under these circumstances, will recollect the terrible shock and the sharp recoil that follows.
But in that Providence which regulates death as well as life
these cases are but rare.  Where sudden death does not
come, the approach of the mortal hour is, in many cases,
preceded by a deadening of the sensibilities; in others by a
sort of mist, which, like the vapor of Indian Summer,
throws a graceful halo over the scene.  And, so far as the
mere article of death is concerned, it may be questioned
whether the pain connected with it is, under any circumstances, peculiarly great.
~ 169. Those who speak of it after a resuscitation generally concur on this point. The experience of Dr. Adam
' See on this point, Fleinming's "Plea for the Ways of God," p. 91.
234
~ 168-169 
THE MERCY OF ITS SHAPE.
Clarke, one of the coolest of observers, is very remarkable on
this point. In his life, by Dr. Lettsom, the latter thus gives
us a sketch of a conversation in which the two were
engaged:  "Dr. Lettsom said,' Of all that I have seen restored, or
questioned afterwards, I never found one who had the
smallest recollection of anything that passed, from the moment they went under water till the time in which they were
restored to life and thought.'  Dr. Clarke answered Dr.
L.:'I knew a case to the contrary.''Did you, indeed?'
'Yes, Dr. L.;  and the case was my own.   I was once
drowned.'   And then he related the circumstances, and,
after a detailed account, said,'Now, I aver, 1st. That in
being drowned, I felt no pain. 2d. That I did not, for a
single moment,  lose my consciousness.   3d. I felt indescribably happy, and, though dead as to the total suspension of all the functions of life, yet I felt no pain in dying;
and, I take for granted, from this circumstance, those who die
by drowning feel no pain, and that probably it is the easiest
of all deaths. 4th. That I felt no pain until once more exposed to the action of the atmospheric air, and then I felt
great pain and anguish in returning to life, which anguish,
had I continued under water, I should have never felt.
5th. That animation must have been totally suspended from
the time I must have been under water, which time might
be, in some measure, ascertained by the distance the mare
was from the place of my submersion, which was at least
half a mile, and she was not, when I first observed her,
making any speed."'
17l0. Cowper, in those melancholy memoirs which hear
'Iii
~ 170
235 
DEATIt:
witness at once to so much misery and so much hope, speaks
of an attempt at suicide, which was frustrated after he be came insensible, in which he could not recollect any par ticular pain. Lord Bacon gives us an anecdote to the same
effect; and Sir Benjamin Brodie adds the weight of his
great experience and eminent sagacity.*
~ 171. Still more important than this is the gradual pre paration of mind by sorrow and by old age. It is here
that death, as well as pain, may be taken as the test by
which the real value of religion is discovered. When death
comes into the house purely human comforts are blasted,
and turn with blackened face upon him who puts in them his
trust. It is otherwise with religion, for then even the
smoky chimney-wall becomes the panel on which are spread
pictures which, be they myths or not, are fraught with the
greatest loveliness and peace.   It is under such influences,
and in such scenery, that we best see the sweetness of the
preparation by which the believer is made fit for death. Long
illness, which, in our blindness, we cannot explain, but which
tones the mind for the awful moment; old age, cutting away
cord after cord binding the present to the past; affliction
and sorrow, so subtly dividing the very sinews of the heart;
the removal of objects of love to that home above where
the eye of the dying man sees a treasure dearer than all
below, -these things come to take from the parting moment
nearly all its terror. For, says Lord Bacon, "death comes
graciously to those who sit in darkness, or lie heavily bur
* See a?te, ~ 18.
236
~ 171 
ITS MERCIES.
dened with grief and irons,-to desolate widows, pensive
prisoners, and deposed kings: to all such death is a redeemer, and the grave a place of retirement and rest."
Or, as the same idea is expressed by a late thoughtful
writer:
I am footsore and very weary,
But I travel to meet a friend.'
The way is long and dreary,
But I know that it soon must end.
He is traveling fast like the whirlwind,
And though I creep slowly on,
We are drawing nearer, nearer,
And the journey is almost done!
Through the heat of many summers,
Through many a spring-time rain,
Through long autumns and weary winters
I have hoped to meet him, in vain.
On the day of my birth he plighted
His kingly word to me:I have seen him in dreams so often,
That I know what his smile must be.
I have toiled through the sunny woodland,
Through fields that basked in the light,
And through the lone paths in the forest
I crept in the dead of night.
I will not fear at his coming,
Although I must meet him alone:
He will look in my eyes so gently,
And take my hand in his own.
~ 171
237
I
PI 
~ 172-173
Like a dream all my toil will vanish,
When I lay my head on his breast;
But the journey is very weary,
And he only can give me rest!
~ 172. Add to this a Christian hope, be it really true or
be it not,-view this hope as a mere temporal alleviator,and then see how still more the path brightens. And, in this
view, take the following lines, not as Christian poetry, but
as the type of a psychological phenomenon, and compare
them with the expression, beautiful as that expression is;-, of
merely the stoical submission which has been just described:
One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'erI'm nearer home to-day
Than I ever have been before.
Nearer my Father's house,
Where the many mansions be;
Nearer the great white throne,
Nearer the jasper sea;
Nearer the bound of life,
Where we lay our burdens down;
Nearer leaving the cross,
Nearer gaining the crown.
el. They are the incidents of an  intermediate stage
in a series of progressive advances from chaos to final
perfection.
~ 173. Taking the whole scheme of geological history,
we find that such a series of advances has been made from
the earliest point to which that history goes back. The ad
233
DEATH. 
TROUBLE A PROGRESS.
vance, it is true, has not been equal and regular, nor do its
successive eras melt into each other as they move on, but
rather, as in a panorama, landscape after landscape is
separately unrolled, leaving a pause between each, so each
of these grand periods of cosmical progress begins and
terminates as a unit, leaving a pause to divide it from its
successor. But while this is the case, the advance from
period to period is unequivocal, though this advance is one
not of development but of a specific new introduction.
We  have the period of inorganic matter.   We  have the
period when a colorless and pulpy vegetation scarce laid
claim to organic life under the mist-shroud that encompassed
it. We have, separated from this by an appreciable parenthesis, the period of rich and juicy cone-bearing ferns, and
of the tortoises and fish-monsters which crowded the adjacent friths and lagoons. We have the period of giant
mammalia, such as compose the dynasty now found in Nebraska, hemmed in by impassable barriers at both its formation and its extinction. Suppose, as has already been asked,
it should be inquired for what purpose does this vast and
luxurious vegetation of the second of these periods exist?
Is it not a positive excrescence, and is not the rapid succession of animal deposit by which death manures these immense growths, in itself a defect and an evil?  Countless
centuries afterwards, the iron forges, the coal mines, and the
industrial interests, which time puts in motion, answer the
question by saying that the world is moving on in a series of
progressive advances, each of which is the base from which
a successor of a higher grade takes its start.  Such being
the case, and the scheme heretofore having been unbroken,
239
~ 173 
TROUBLE A PROGRESS.
we find ourselves, in our present human history, occupying
an intermediate stage in this grand onward progress. And
this stage is one which involves the culture of a countless
host of individual souls on probation for perfect bliss. It
is, however, still an intermediate stage, and necessarily liable
to the evils and imperfections belonging to such stage.*
* See this point very ably developed in Mr. Walker's "God in
Creation." And see alsopost, I 277, etc.
240
~ 173 
POSITIVISM.
CHAPTER II.
POSITIVISM.
a. IN WHAT POSITIVISM CONSISTS.
~ 174. AUGUST COMTE, to whose singleness of purpose no
less than to whose intellectual power, the present popularity
of Positivism is due, was born in the south of France, in
1788. Of noble descent, though utterly penniless, he was
thrown into the turmoil of the French Revolution at a
period of life when his acute and refined sensibilities and his
high love of order and classification were the most likely to
be increased by the reaction from the tumultuous chaos with
which he was surrounded. Disgust, which a spirit so proud
and so severe, would feel for the multitude of merely speculative theories which then floated across the political and
social horizon, united with a strong attachment to inductive
philosophy, led him, at the outset of his career, to seek to
gather from the facts of history and nature the laws by
which history and nature are governed. To this work he
devoted a life, which, though broken in its centre by insanity,
and toward its end by a domestic connection as injurious to
his mental powers by its absurd sentimentalism, as it was
to his moral character by its impurity, was'at least intellectually pure and unsordid. He died in 1858.
The principal work through which M. Comte made known
21
~ 14
241 
POSITIVISM:
his views is his "Cours de la Philosophie Positive." In
the preparation of this work he had the advantages and dis advantages attending the delivery of a course of lectures.
He began in 1826, and his lucid style, his extraordinary
power of classification, and his fine mathematical parts,
secured for him the attendance of some of the most eminent
scientific men then collected at Paris, including Blainville,
Poisson, and Humboldt.   His course was hardly opened
before he was attacked by a disease of the brain, which for
three years incapacitated him for work. When his lectures
were resumed, he found his audience increased by the addition of men such as Esquirol, Beriot, Broussais, and
Fourier.   The lecture-shape, into which  his speculations
were thrown, enabled him, as he proceeded, to avail himself
of the counsels of others, and of the gradual development
of his own acute and comprehensive mind. By this means
he not only retained for a series of years the attention of
the distinguished men by whom his lectures were attended,
but he excited throughout all Europe that peculiar and
curious interest which the serial form of publication is apt to
evolve.  Men of science, even among those most attached
to orthodox Protestantism, were forward to recognize the
wonderful combination of analysis and synthesis, and the
severe and exact induction of the new philosopher.   Sir
David Brewster, as early as 1838, even transcended the
limits of the present estimate of Cointe's disciples, in recognizing'"his simple yet powerful eloquence, his enthusiastic
admiration of intellectual superiority, his accuracy as a
historian, his honesty as a judge, and his absolute freedom
from all personal and national feelings." "His views," says
242
~ 174 
IN WHAT  IT CONSISTS.
Dr. Buchanan, "are expounded in a style singularly copious,
clear, and forcible."  And Dr. MeCosh, even when exposing the arrogance as well as the baselessness of Comte's
social and theological assumptions, declares that "every one
is constrained to admire his penetrating intellect and clear
style."
~ 175. In the loyalty and capacity of his disciples, Comte
has been no less fortunate than in the candor of his adversaries. In England, his lectures, which in French fill six
volumes, have been brought before the public in an abridged
edition by Miss Harriet Martineau; and though in this
translation he loses the freshness and naturalness incident
to the productions of a mind that grows as it speaks, his
text is purged of much redundancy of style, as well as from
not a few philosophical positions which would have stood in
the way of his acceptance.* To Mr. G. H. Lewes he is
indebted not only for a still more condensed and more
effective summary of his lectures,t but for a very skillful
though incidental defence of their principles, in a work
oni the "History of Philosophy," whose speciousness and
biographical interest will carry it to many points to which
the severe style and the great bulk of the original course
would keep the latter from penetrating.; In the present
* The Positive Philosophy of Aug. Comte. Freely translated and
condensed, by Harriet Martineau.  2 vols. London, 1853.   New
York, 1 vol., Calvin Blanchard, 1855.
t Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences, being an Exposition of the
Principles of the Cours de Philosophie Positive of August Comte.
By G. H. Lewes.  London, 1853.
+ The Biographical History of Philosophy, from its Origin in
~ 175
243 
POSITIVISM.
year, Mr. Henry Thomas Buckle, in a work whose elaborateness and plausibility to a superficial observer conceal its
inaccuracy of statement and narrowness of induction, has
produced a ponderous apology for the Positive Philosophy in
a distinct historical treatise.* And in a work destined to a
far more lasting reputation, Mr. J. S. Mill has brought to
the indirect though potent defence of the same system his
fine dialectic power and his remarkable philosophical research.t
~ 176. In this country, Comte's exponents though less
able, have not been less numerous. In this direction, the
late Mr. HIorace Binney Wallace's acute critical, and metaphysical parts obliquely bore, though it is but just to say,
with a uniform protest against those atheistic sequences
which belong to Comte's original conception.   In Mrs.
Child's "Progress of Religious Ideas," the positive idea of
religion is espoused with a coarseness of tone which may
at least serve to put the careless reader on his guard against
its essential godlessness of spirit.1 To these may be added
Greece down to the Present Day. By George Henry Lewes. New
York: Appletons, 1857.
* History of Civilization in England. By Henry Thomas Buckle.
Vol i. From the second London edition, to which is added an Alphabetical Index. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1858.
t A System of Logic, Ratiocination, and Induction, being a Connected View of the Principles of Evidence and the Methods of Scientific Investigation.  By John Stuart Mill.  New York:  HIarper &
Brothers, 1858.
+ The Progress of Religious Ideas through Successive Ages.  By
L. Maria Child. In three volumes. New York: C. S. Francis, 1855.
244
~ 176
Lk- 
COMTE AND HIS VI/EWS.
one or two minor publications in which the principles of the
same philosophy are expounded if not defended.*
Comte's speculations fall into two classes-the first comprising his course of Positive Philosophy, completed by him
in 1842; the other his scheme of religious belief, mainly
contained in his Catechism, published ten years later.t   In
the first class his system was purely inductive, and, in one
sense, destructive; in the second, deductive and constructive.
In the first he ignored all facts except those ascertained by
natural science, and from these facts alone he sought to
draw  laws to govern not merely the material, but the spiritual. In the latter he sought to construct not merely a
polity, but a religion; his office was not merely that of the
discoverer, whose duty it is to make known the secret principle by which our race is controlled, but that of a high
priest, who, finding that after all there remains a vast residuum of the emotional and spiritual which a system of
economical laws cannot regulate, seeks to establish for this
purpose a religion.   The former ignores the sentimental
and the supernatural; the latter not only recognizes them,
but establishes a special mechanism by which they are to be
fed and governed.
" The Positive's Calendar: an Exposition of the Positive Religion
of Comte, by one of his Followers.  New York.   Philosophy of
Mathematics, etc.  By W. M. Gillespie.  New York, 1851.
t Catechism Positiviste, par August Comte, etc.  Paris, 1852.
The Catechism of Positive Religion. Translated from the French of
August Comte, by Richard Congreve, M.A. London:  John Chapman, 185-)8.
21*
~ 176
245 
COMTE:
~ 177. As elucidating these two phases of Comte's philosophy, the remarkable circumstances of his life, falling as it
does into two parallel periods, may be found of much value.
His early history, and the natural reaction of his clear and
exact intellect from the chaos of the French Revolution to
a system of moral if not governmental absolutism, have been
already noticed. From his eighteenth year till almost his
forty-fifth, he was subjected to the severe discipline, and, at
the same time, the withering blight, of circumstances not
merely of penury, but of solitude and desolation. During
far the greater period of the time he was engaged from six
to eight hours a day in private tuition, from whence his income, owing perhaps to that want of flexibility of temper so
essential to a successful teacher, was but scanty.   In 1832
he was received into the faculty of the Polytechnic School,
but only as a tutor of the lower grade.  Hlere again the
jealousy of those whose scientific and metaphysical dogmas
he so ruthlessly attacked, aided by his own intolerance, led
to his final dismissal. Once again he was obliged to betake
himself to teaching, though under circumstances very different from those by which his earlier life was surrounded. His
growing celebrity; the gradual recognition by the world of
his genius; his integrity, and his indomitable energy, drew to
him reverent and remunerative pupils. And a very singular
connection framed by him with Madame Clotilde de Vaux
a connection partly sentimental, partly sensuous-opened to
him a field of observation before entirely unknown.   This
remarkable woman, hereafter to be the chief priestess, or
more properly, eternal mother of positive religion, was, or
appeared to her lover to be, possessed of all the fascinations
246
~ 177
k 
HIS  HISTORY AND VIEWS.
of intellect, accomplishment, and manner.  Soon the severe
philosopher began to recognize a new force which had not
been previously noticed by him among his dynamical phenomena. The name of love might have been that to which
this agency would, under ordinary circumstances, have been
entitled; but Comte subtilized it into emotions more refined. The veneration due to sanctity, the regard to loveliness, the tenderness to the closest of domestic relations,
increased by the obedience to arise from the succeeding relations of child to parent,-these principles were to be apotheosized into a divine code. It so happened that Madame de
Vaux was a Roman Catholic, so far at least as concerned a
deep appreciation of the aesthetic and the supernatural.
The Aesthetic and the supernatural, he was, therefore, to introduce into the religion of which he was to be the founder;
and he betook himself to construct an imposing ceremonial to touch the former, and a vast canonization to excite the latter.  ilow this was done will be seen hereafter;
but at present, it may be stated in brief, that while in the
first period of his life his aim was to draw correct laws from
actual phenomena; in the second period he fabricates false
phenomena to support a factitious law.
~ 178. Let us now proceed to examine, at least in its
theological relations, that scheme of positive philosophy
which it was the business of the first part of Comte's life to
construct, and on which his reputation mainly rests. The
mission before him was noble, and well worthy of the years
of poverty, of isolation, and of unremunerated toil which he
devoted to it.  It was, to give it in his own terms, to discover and state the conditions to be developed in modern
~ 178
247
k 
.POSITIVISM:
society, so as (1) to restore health; and (2) to resolve the
anarchy of opinion occasioning social disease.  Such a task
is well worthy the devotion of the highest intellect; and to
Comte, with his exquisite perception of and controlling pas sion for order, passing, as he had just been, through the
metaphysical and economical uproar of the French Revolution, the commission came with a dignity and weight suffi cient to drive from his contemplation all selfish aims. HIis
it was, he believed, not only to classify science, but to reconstruct humanity. His it was not only to prescribe to knowledge its boundaries and properties, but to open to society
that causeway, for so long covered by the rubbish of prejudice and ignorance, by which it could reach truth and light.
And here, at the outset, hlie took the bold and grand position-afterwards, it is true, occasionally forgotten, but in the
first half of his career always before him-that the subordination of the intellect, and then of the heart, to the laws of
morality, is a prerequisite of the wise reconstruction of
society and of government. In this position his coincidence
with the early Puritan leaders in America will at once be
noticed. Each sought to prepare for a reanimation of
society by the enunciation and enthronement of a code of
moral and intellectual laws. Each thought that without
such a basis government and society would be insecure and
unjust. But here they differed, one failing in the recognition
of the natural, the other of the supernatural element; the
one ignorant that such a code would be imperfect and arbitrary without a harmonious development of that universal
science of Mwhich it is but an incomplete part; the other forgettin( that even this harmonious development of all deri
248
~ 178
k_ 
IN  ATHAT IT CONSISTS.
vative knowledge is imperfect without the recognition of
and the dependence on Hiim from whom  this knowledge is
derived. The one wanted breadth; the other height. Before each lay a fierce and unfordable river, like the Niagara
below the falls.  The one failed from lack of materials to
reach the opposite side, and from want of compass of machinery; the other, because he forgot that to raise a pierless
bridge that was to be eternal, its support must be derived
from on high. The one relied on faith alone; the other
only on reason; and each have left to a more divine, and, at
the same time, a more liberal philosophy the grand work
by which faith and reason are to be made one.
~ 179. It may also be premised that the term positive is
used by Comte in a sense distinct from that accepted by
prior philosophers.  Bacon, Jonathan Edwards, and Kant,
applied the term positive to those principles, which, underived from reasoning or observation, form the instinctive
and undemonstrable basis on which all derivative truth must
rest.  Our own existence —the existence of a moral sense,
the existence of matter-have in this sense been treated as
positive. The positive laws of Comte, on the other hand,
are the results of inductive experiment, and positivism is
simply a digest of knowledge derived from phenomena.
Observational science is hence the sole source of knowledge. The process is to be first one of induction, and
then of deduction. The entire body of phenomena are to
be colligated as the basis for a complete and profound induction. From these the general principles which regulate the
universe are to be drawn, and when drawn, are to be classified so as to make a harmonious whole. The work thus
~ 179
249
iL 
POSITIVISM:
assigned to himself by the great positive philosopher may,
therefore, be illustrated by that of him who should undertake to collect from the reports of the English and American courts a philosophical exposition of the common law.
Thousands of volumes of reports are to be gathered to gether, embracing hundreds of thousands of cases. From
each the correct points are to be first extracted and then
arranged, and then exhibited as a complete and philosophical whole.   So it was that Comte attempted to extract from
the book of physical nature the grand common law that
regulates humanity.
~ 180. It is by use of this analogy that we are able to detect two of the main defects in Comte's basis of inductiondefects which fatally affect his system of philosophy. Let
it be supposed that in such pretended summary of the common law there should be an entire exclusion of: (1) all cases
involving mental conditions, e.g. insanity in its relations to
crime, to wills, and to contracts; and (2) all cases decided
in a particular locality, though to this excluded locality such
treatise afterwards is claimed to apply. However interesting
a treatise thus constructed might be, it would neither be complete nor authoritative. And yet, these omissions are, in fact,
made by Comte in the collection of his primary phenomena.
Hle excludes entirely the result of all psychological observation. He abhors metaphysics. That vast mass of phenomena which are connected with our intellectual and moral
natures form no part of the materials on which his induction acts.  Objective conditions alone, he condescends to
notice.
On the other hand, he formally excludes from the range
250
~ ]so
L
11 
IN WHAT  IT CONSISTS.
of his observation all social history except that of Europe.
Thus he himself tells us that "we must study the develop ment of the most advanced nations, not allowing our atten tion to be drawn off to other centres. * * It is the selectest
part, the vanguard of the human race that we have to study;
the greater part of the white race, or the European nations,
even restricting ourselves to those of Western Europe."*
And afterwards he specifies the countries to be thus examined, as follows: "It must be our rule to study the civilization, not of any nation, however important, but of the whole
portion of mankind involved in the movement of Western
Europe; that is, (specifying the nations once for all,) Italy,
France, England, Germany, and Spain." It is observed,
that this excludes Asia, the birth-place of civilization, North
Africa, the theatre of her most luxuriant youthful growth,
and America, the scene of her present greatest activity.
Having thus noticed the nature of the philosophy of
Comte and the subject-matter from which his induction is
drawn, let us proceed to consider what are the principles
stated by him, so far, at least, as they concern the theistic
argument.   These principles converge to a single proposition, viz., that the highest order of civilization, and the
truest philosophy, lead to the establishment of a code of
positive laws, susceptible of as definite ascertainmnent as
the courses of the stars, which laws are capable, if obeyed,
of producing the highest degree of happiness as well as
* Pos. Piil. English ed., vol. i. p. 181; Am.  ed., vol. i. p. 541;
Mlartineau's translation.
~ 180
251 
POSITIVISM:
the greatest amount of morality, and to which laws, therefore, it is the duty of each individual to submit.*
b. BY WHAT IT IS SUSTAINED.
~ 181. The induction by which this proposition is sought
to be proved, falls under three heads: (a') historical, or that
drawn from the history of the countries selected for examination; (bs) personal, or that drawn from individual
history;  and (cl) phrenological, or that drawn from the
structure of the human brain. These will be now briefly
considered.
~ 182. a,. Historical.
It is assumed by Comte that history, within the limits
he prescribes to himself, shows three distinct stages of development: (a) the theological, which is the original,
which is again divided into (a') fetichismi, (b') polytheism,
and (c1) monotheism; (b) the metaphysical, or the period
of doubt; and (c) the positive, or the period of definite
law. These stages are treated by Comte substantially as
follows:  The savage, who is assumed to be the first form of
* Observe, in connection with Comte's classification, that of Schelling, as the contribution of one who, like Comte, is seeking the material for a skeptical philosophy, but who, with equal ability, occupies
an independent stand-point. Schelling lays down three great periods:
first, that of fate, when history exhibits the working of mere arbitrary dynamical energy; second, that of nature, which is one of
equal but absolute development; third, that of Providence, when we
are to recognize the Absolute and Universal, as an aggregate divinity.
See Transcend. Idealismus, part iv. prop. 4. See also Morell's Hist.
Phil., pp. 440-450.
252
~ 181-182
SEA_ 
FETICH-WORSHIP.
humanity, looks with wondering awe upon the objects
around him and pays to each a specific homage. This is
Fetich-worship. The term, not very accurately, as will be
presently shown, is taken by Comte from Mosheim, who, when
examining the intellectual system of Cudworth, tells us that
"the sacred animals of the Egyptians were originally Fetissos.
This phrase, which the French language has converted into
Fetiches, is Portuguese, and signifies a divine agent that
communicates oracles. A Fetich is therefore matter, in
some form or other, in which a God resides."   Strictly
speaking, however, the Fetich is regarded by Comte as
worshiped, not as the embodiment of a Deity, but rather
as in itself, from its own properties, the subject of a gross
and dull adoration.   In fact, Fetich-worship  is held by
Comte as requiring so small a degree of intelligence, that
he announces that it is engaged in by the higher branches of
the brute creation.   "Several species of animals," he tells
us, "afford clear evidence of speculative activity; and those
which are endowed with it certainly attain a kind of gross
fetichism as man does.  The difference in the case is, that
man has ability to raise himself out of this primitive darkness, and that the brutes have not; except some few select
animals, in which a beginning to polytheism may be observed, obtained no doubt by association with man.   If,
for instance, we exhibit a watch to a child or a savage, on
the one hand, and a dog or a monkey, on the other, there
will be no great difference in their way of regarding the
new object, further than their form of expression."* And,
* Pos. Phil., Eng. ed., vol. ii. p. 187; Am. ed., p. 546.
22
~ 182
253
L 
POSITIVISM:
to make this still more plain, we are told, something in the
style of Lord Monboddo, that it was reserved to subsequent
eras to develop men, in this light, at least, from the condition of "monkeys."
~ 183. If this be true, Fetich-worship, in the Positive
sense, is nothing more than a mere stupid gaze. This is
followed, in gradual ascent, by Polytheism, in which certain
members or heads of specific tribes are invested with supernatural attributes, and worshiped as such.
The mythology, both of the subtle Greek and the imperial
Roman, may come next.   The trees and the waters  are
represented by dryads and naiads, who are treated either as
the divine embodiment of the entire classes, or as special
supernatural agencies residing in individuals.   With this
may arise hero-worship; and these two elements, involving
the adoration either of divinities residing in matter or
brutes, or of divinities as the shades of departed great men,
form polytheism. This, again, as human intellect develops,
is narrowed into monotheism. Men become weary of worshiping gods who are either the ideal representations of
brutes or stones, or at the best, of fellow-creatures with like
passions with themselves. Hence arises the idea of a Jehovah, or supreme and single God. This idea, however,
according to the Positive faith, is revealed neither by oracle
nor instinct, but is a myth, for its own period beneficial
enough, but at the same time the mere creature of human
speculation.   Soon, however, "the forces that caused this
idea, dissipate it." MAen begin to discover that organic
creation is governed by certain eternal and inflexible laws.
These laws enter so closely into the moral as well into the
254
~ 183 
ITS HISTORICAL BASIS.
physical universe, that it is found as science progresses, that
there is at each step less and less ground on which a voluntary special Providence can act.  Still, however, there is a
reluctance to give up the sublime thought that such a Providence exists, and between this belief and that of the prevalence of certain fixed laws-between, in other words, the
conception of fixed laws and the conception of special providences-the human intellect is kept in a state of doubt and
agitation during a period which is called the Metaphysical.
~ 184. The metaphysical period is mainly that of destructionr.   It falls, according  to Comte, into three phases:
(1) that of Protestantism, in which the theologic element,
itself highly charged with metaphysics, divides into a series
of controversial currents, each surging against and neutralizing the other; (2) that of Deism, in which Nature steps
in and takes temporarily the throne of God, while the Deity
Himself retires in austere seclusion or good-natured indifference from the affairs of a world which, by the aid of certain impulses with which He supplies it, succeeds pretty well
in governing itself; and (3) that of Atheism, in which even
the idea of a Deity on furlough is swept away, and the
world is regarded as not only practically and temporarily,
but eternally and primarily endued with self-government.
By these three processes the mind is supposed to be cleared
from all its theistic prejudices and metaphysical doubts,
and to be prepared for the reception of the great final truth
of the administration by Positive Law.
~ 185. Positivism, which is declared to be the last and
perfect development of human society, as well as the only
true basis of individual government, contents itself with the
~ 184-185
255 
POSITIVISM:
discovery and the harmonious arrangement of those natural laws by which the universe is governed. It rejects
both the supernatural ordination and the metaphysical causation of the phenomena with which it deals, but treats
them as isolated and causeless, contenting itself, by the application of a wide induction, with drawing from them the
general principles or laws by which they can be harmonized.
As, however, this method of discovery and classification
varies with the degree to which the phenomena with which it
deals are extricated from the confusion of metaphysical
doubt, and as the several classes of these phenomena differ
greatly among themselves in reference to their capacity for
generalization, the sciences do not arise simultaneously from
the heterogeneous chaos of the middle period, but struggle
upward at long though unequal intervals.   First comes
Mathematics, that with the simplest of solvents, and the
most soluble of phenomena. Next emerges Astronomy,
impelled by the energy of her mathematical elements, and
hurrying to enter upon the magnificent sweep of phenomena
on which she is to act, but delayed by the medium of astrology through which she has to pass. Mechanical and cosmical philosophy comes next, and then Biology, which,
compelled to separate from Psychology, on which she has
heretofore, in the metaphysical era, mainly relied, now, in
somewhat crippled isolation, crawls forth to inform us of
the secret springs, not merely of the human body, but of the
human soul. Last of all, but as yet with crest scarcely more
than protruding above the mists of theological prejudice
and metaphysical doubt, comes Sociology. To the extrication of the latter science, the genius of Positive Philosophy
256
~ 185
k 
WHAT  IT  MEANS.
mainly devotes itself. When this last task is consummated,
we will obtain, we are told, the rules by adoption of which
individual and social prosperity can be best promoted, virtue most highly exalted, vice most deeply depressed, and
even religion, by being shorn of the supernatural and mystical, made for the first time businesslike and intelligent.  In
what way, however, the latter part of the programme has
been carried out, will subsequently be seen when we come
to examine the theology of Comte as developed in his later
days.
Let us now proceed to consider the facts on which this
remarkable series of theories rests,-a task that is made
the more difficult from the fact that the positive philosophers cite no authorities for their historical statements.
a'. There is no evidence of primary Fetichisnm.
~ 186. Schlegel, it is true, speaks of Fetich-worship
as the lowest stage in heathen religions,* but Fetich-worship of the character to which he refers is very different from the mere monkeylike curiosity placed by Comte
under this name.   But a close  examination of history
shows that the sweeping together of all sensuous religionism under this common term, is both unphilosophical
and inaccurate. The same year that gave to light Comte's
complete course was marked by the publication, by Dr. Karl
Eckerman, of the University of Gottingen, of an elaborate
and exhaustive exposition of the religious history and mythology of the most prominent nations of antiquity; an exposition, written without reference to any theological theory
*  Phil. of Hist., lect. vi.
22*
~ 186
257
PI 
FETICHISM:
whatever, but which presents a comprehensive and thorough
digest of the  recorded facts bearing  on the particular
issue.*
On the point before us, Dr. Eckerman thus writes:-" We
turn to IHylozoism. Since the Deity intermarries with Nature, divine (spiritual) and physical life are entirely identified. Impregnation, procreation, growth, and blossom, coming into existence and dying, are regarded as the activities
and passivities of the Deity. Nations which, of their own
accord, and in various ways, are occupied with nature, and
hence carry with them a sympathizing heart for it, are easily
led to this system of religious belief. With them spring becomes the time of the divine happiness; winter the time of
unhappiness and of death. Vivid contrasts are common in
this system of theology, placing in opposition Life and
Death, as in Dualism, Light and Darkness. HIylozoism is
the mother of wild orgic dances, of cruel sacrifices, of painful
tortures, scourgings, and mortifications. In this religion the
images of "Begetting" and "Bringing Forth" are principally worshiped, because the sexual relation of the animal
world is imputed to the Deity.  Hlence this creed presents,
opposing one another, a productive male and receptive
female Deity, a Father and Mother, on which account it has
been called, not very wisely to be sure, hylozoistic Dualism.
* Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte und Mythologie der vorzuglichsten V61ker des Alterthliums, Nach der Anordnung K. O. Miuillers.
Fiir Lelirer, Studirende, und die obersten Klassen der Gymnasien
verfasst, von Dr. Karl Eckerman, Assessor der philos. Facultiit der
Universitaiit Gottingen. Halle, 1845. Ibid., Bind 3 and 4; Halle,
1847, 1848.
258
~ 186 
ECKERMAN'S VIEW.
"This form of religion was, at an early period, received in
the East and in the West, even in India itself, where it
united itself with the emanation  system.   Babylonians,
Assyrians, Phoenicians, Phrygians, and Egyptians, were
servants and worshipers of nature, and it can hardly be
denied that the worship of God among the Greeks and
Romans may be traced back to the worship of nature, just
as this assumed an ameliorated form. But the worship of
Dionysos (Bacchus) has remained more barbarous and unchecked. On Grecian soil, more than anywhere else, HIylozoism united itself with anthromorphism, and hence the
gods here appear much more human.
"Out of Hylozoisn arose, in Chaldea, Sabeanism or
star-worship, in Egypt the worship of animals, which must
be regarded only as specially developed phases of the same
principle. But it is not on that account to be supposed
that the worship of animals was the basis of religion in
Egypt, and still less that the adoration of animals considered
sacred is based upon the observance of their apparent utility
or mischievousness. The worship of animals depends much
more upon the observation of the evident system of material
law which these animals obey, or, in other words, on the unmistakable perception of their instincts. The dweller on
the Nile sees in this a clear expression of Divine wisdom.
~ 187. "Another modification of Hylozoism is Fetichism.
Fetichists are those who select as a deity some peculiar or
distinctively striking material object.   Fetichism  is the
lowest grade of religious culture, and we do the Greeks
undoubtedly great injustice if we, with Bortiger, B. Constar,t, (and now, also, with H. W. Bensen,) think to trace
~ 187
259
k 
FETICIIISM:
back their worship to Fetichism.  By separating individual
examples from the whole, as the holy oak in Dodona,
the sacred stone of Eros at Thespia, the Graces at Orcho nenos, the thirty stones at Phasia, and other things of the
kind, and examining these without reference to the connec tion, a form of religion is arrived at, the existence of which
is apocryphal even in Africa. Men, in the course of time,
forget the Divine Spirit and the meaning of the matter
esteemed sacred, and cling stubbornly to the dead form. But
who has investigated so accurately the condition of religion
in the heart of Africa? Prejudice and pious Christian religions zeal misled the investigators.   The time will come
when Fetichism will stand as the result of superficial
critical observation."
~ 188. Equally significant, as relating to the old Chaldean
worship, is the following statement by Mr. Layard:* "As I
have more than once had occasion to observe, a marked distinction may be traced between the religion of the earliest
and latest Assyrians. It is probable that corruptions gradually crept into their theology. Originally it was a pure
Sabeanism, in which the heavenly bodies were worshiped as
mere types of the power and attributes of the Supreme
Deity.   Of the great antiquity of this primitive worship
there is abundant evidence; and that it originated among
the inhabitants of the Assyrian plains, we have the united
testimony of sacred and profane history. It obtained the
epithet of perfect, and was believed to be the most ancient
* Nineveh and Babylon, vol. ii. p. 333.
260
~ 188 
HOW  FAR IT EXISTS.
religious system, having preceded even that of the Egyptians."
~ 189. Into these questions of fact, involving though they
do the very foundation of his system, neither Comte nor
his disciples have thought it necessary to enter. It may be
that, if Fetich-worship existed at all, it was an exceptional
form, which, like what we assume the image-worship of the
most degraded and ignorant Roman Catholic to be, was not
an original and substantive worship, but the perversion, by
a gradual ignoring of the spiritual, of a religious culture
whose first object was the spiritual clothed in a material attribute or dress. If this view be correct, the whole induction of Positivism falls.  Instead, however, of examining
the historical proof, Comte starts with the bold assertion,
unsustained by any citations, that Fetichism was the original
form of human religious culture.   To this it may be sufficient, after the remarks which have just been made, to
reply that history, so far as it goes, proves the contrary.
It will be scarcely necessary to cite the traditions of a
primeval golden age.   Out of Scriptures they form the
earliest putative records of our race.  Their affirmative testimony to an early theism may be here passed. It is enough
for the present argument to say, that whatever may be their
worth, they give no basis for the assumption of a primary
Fetich-worship.
~ 190. When we come to what is undisputed history the
indications are still more hostile to Comte's theory. Take
the Saxon stem, one selected by Comte himself.' Of the early
Germans, Tacitus says, "Their deities were not immured
in temples, nor represented under any kind of resemblance to
~ 189-190
261 
FETICHISM:
the heathen form. To do either were, in their opinion, to
derogate from the majesty of superior beings." So the laws
of Mena-the old Indian literature-are express in recognizing a worship in which the spiritual was ever the primary
object, nor do they in any case recognize the mere matteradoration of Fetichism. The following summary of the
early orthodox Hindfi writers is given by Mr. Archer
Butler:* "We begin with the Supreme Being.  The Uttara
Mimansa, which is to theology what the Purva Mimansa is
to works and their merit, which is the great depository of
the Vedantine beliefs, and whose chief extant memorial is
the Brahrme Sutra, attributed to Vyasa, (an avatara of
Vishnou himself, the reputed author, also, of the Mahabharata, the great Hindi epic,)-this the high orthodox school
of philosophy, declares from the Vedas themselves-of
God-that ile is the Supreme Eternal One, the Emanatory
Cause (i.e. at once the efficient and material cause) of the
universe. From iHim all proceeds; into Him all is to be
ultimately resolved; as a spider extends and retracts his
thread, or (to use another common Hlindu comparison) as
the tortoise protrudes and then gathers back his lower limbs.
It would not be easy to parallel the sublimity of the descriptions which the Vedas themselves contain of this All-creating
Essence,-the whole riches of a most opulent language are
exhausted upon the infinity of his perfections; and the very
title of Godhead (Bhargas) is constructed of three monosyllabic verbs, which signify to shine, to delight, and to
move.  In both the Brahmin and Buddhist systems a trinity
* Lect. Anc. Phil., vol. i. p. 250.
262
~ 190 
NOT PRIMEVAL.
of natures is discoverable; though upon the precise attributes of each divine personage there seem to be many
varieties of opinion. In the ordinary expositions of the
Vedantine theology they are declared to be Creator, Conservator, and Destroyer; among the atheistic followers of
Capila a sort of natural trinity is professed, under the title
of Goodness, Foulness, and Darkness; and, among the
Buddhists of Nepaul, (according to Mr. llodgson's interesting account,) the same notion reappears under the names of
Buddha, Dharma, and Sanga,-Intelligence, Matter, and
Multitude. Such is the Deity of the Vedas. The Deity of the
Sankhya of Patandjali seems to be of much the same character. But the Sankhya of Capila (to which 1 have just
referred) denies the existence of a God altogether in any
other sense than that of an intelligence issuing out of primitive nature and to be resolved hereafter into it.  These
sages urge that we can derive no proof of a Supreme Creator distinct from insensible nature, either from sense, reasoning, or revelation. All things are evolved out of an intelligence which was itself but a secondary formation. Were
God detached from nature He could have no inducement for
creation;  were He  fettered to nature He could have no
ability for such a work. I need not remind you how completely these sophisms anticipate the more modern atheism
of Europe. Of course, you may suppose the Capilists are
obliged to exert some ingenuity in endeavoring to reconcile
their views with the solemn Theism of the Vedas. They
urge that passages in these sacred records realfy refer either
to a liberated soul, or to some of the mythological deities;
or, by some other such evasion, endeavor to escape the fate
~ 190
263 
FETICHISM:
which drove the followers of Buddha out of the Indian
peninsula.   I suspect, from  scattered intimations, that,
while the Capilists attack the foundations of religion, the
Buddhists originally were guilty of the darker crime of attacking the authority of the priesthood,-a difference which
will sufficiently explain the difference of their fortunes. It
is certain that, even to the present day, a genuine Buddhist,
from the heights of his ascetic sanctity, is apt to despise the
inferior aids of sacerdotal ministration, and is in fact more
highly reverenced by the people; upon the same principle
which gave to the mendicant saints of the Roman order an
influence so far above that of the secular clergy.
~ 191. " The Vedanta philosophy does not enlarge upon
nature as distinct from its great Author. But this deficiency
is fully supplied by the copious dissertations of the Sankhya
and Vaiseschika physics. I before stated that the Sankhya
Capila constitutes twenty-five  principles of the universe.
At the head of the list stands the venerated name of Nature
or Pracriti,-eternal matter undivided, without parts, not
produced, but productive. The next title on this solemn
bead-roll of the universal system is Intelligence, (Buddhi or
Mahat,) first production of nature and prolific of all subsequent existence; and for the accommodation of religious
associates, it would seem that this very intelligence divides
into a triune Deity; thus conciliating (though awkwardly)
the theistic and atheistic hypotheses.   Third in the catalogue, comes the Personal Conviction, (Ahaneara,) a singular element in a system of nature, but which seems to
me to be internally connected with the theory of Illusion,
(Maya,) which this school probably countenanced; and
264
~ 191
iw ---
I -1 
NOT PRIMEVAL.
which may seem to base physical existence itself on the
transitory belief of it.  The Capilist next enumerates five
pure elements which themselves produce the grosser and
perceptible elements of the external world. The organs of
speech and motion are then named, and that Manas or
Mind, which seems to discharge the same functions as the
communis sensus of the old psychologists, with additional
functions of activity.'The external sense perceives, the
internal examines, consciousness makes self-application, and
intellect resolves.'  Finally, is introduced that eternal essence
which, though it may transmigrate through innumerable
bodies, is made by wisdom capable of final liberation and
perpetual repose,-the Purusha, or Soul.  The treatise itself, (the Karica,) sums up the whole:-' Nature, root of all,
is no production; seven principles, including the Great Intellect, are productions and productive; sixteen are productions unproductive; soul is neither production nor
productive.' 
~ 192. Mr. Gladstone, in his Studies on Homer, touches
with his usual subtlety and eloquence on this point. He
marshals the classical evidence in favor of a primeval intercommunion between the one great God and the human race,
and he shows that even the Homeric theistic philosophy
rested   on this assumption.  The same propositions have
been examined, with equal skill and far greater copiousness,
by Vossius, in his work "De Theologia Geniltili," and by
Cudw orth, in his             "Intellectual System of the Universe."
The difficulty about Mr. Gladstone's view-a difficulty growing from his tendency to persistent and earnest advocacyis, that while Cudworth properly restricts himself to show                           23
~ 192
265
4 
FETICHISM:
ing that the classic mythology (e.g. in the Homeric writings*) recognized one single superior Deity, Mr. Gladstone
insists upon drawing from the same data, not only the
revealed doctrine of the Trinity, but a very questionable
theory as to the Virgin. There is a double difficulty in
this. It leads sincere Christians to reject an important
branch of theistic proof,-it tempts the critical inquirer to
doubt the whole.
~ 193. So also, Larcher, in a note to HIerodotus, states
that the most ancient nations were not idol-worshipers, and
adds: Lucian tells us that the ancient Egyptians had no
statues in the temples. According to Eusebius, the Greeks
were not worshipers of images before the time of Cecrops,
who first of all erected statues to Minerva. And Plutarch
tells us that Numa forbade the Romans to represent the
Deity under the form of a man or an animal; and for seventy
years this people had not in their temple any statue or painting of the Deity.
~ 194. b2. The character of the development of our
race affords a strong presumption against the hypothesis
of a primary Fetich-worship.
This worship, according to Comte, was shared by the dog
and the monkey, with whom as to intelligence, the human
worshiper was about on a par. But do not the facts negative the supposition of so great an intellectual grade
having been overcome by us as that which lies between the
monkey and the man? In that portion of the duration of
man which history records-say three thousand years-we
* See Cudworth, vol. i. p. 476, etc.
266
~ 193-194
t —
'-1 
NOT PRIMEVAL.
see no increase of the sentimental and oesthetical faculties,
the very ones Comte relies on as the elements of religious culture. Homer, in the vivacity of his imagination and his keen
appreciation of and capacity for the expression of beauty;
Phidias, in his sculpture; the artists who reared the Pantheon, and the mechanists who constructed the machinery
by which the Pyramids were raised,-have found no superiors among their successors.   So far as the intellectual
measurement of our race is concerned, the altitude we reach
now is about the same as that we reached at the earliest
periods to which history goes back. It is a parallelogram
of great length, it is true, but of equal height. Where
then can we find the intellectual depravation assigned by the
Positivists to primeval man?
~ 195. c2. Fetich-worship, such as it claimed to be, exists at the present day among people with whom a polytheistic or perhaps a monotheistic religion once prevailed.
It is enough, in order to meet Comte's position, to show
that Fetich-worship exists in the present day.  That it does,
in the true sense in which the term should be used, is not a
matter of doubt. Nowhere, in fact, in mythological history, do we find a sketch approximating so closely to that
of Comte, as one lately given us by Captain Walter M.
Gibson, whose remarkable adventures among the Dutch and
Malays, have created so much recent interest.  "I was informed," he tells us, in an address before the American
Geographical and Statistical Society, in the City of New
York, "by a fellow-prisoner at Welterveden; by one Captain Van Woorden, who had been four years commanding
at the small post of Lahat, in the interior of Sumatra, and
~ 195
267 
COMTE'S ERAS:
who had had frequent opportunities to observe the Orung
Kooboos, both male and female, sit around a buluh batang,
or species of bamboo, that attains to a great size, and
would, all in concert, as many as could, strike their heads
repeatedly against the trunk of the tree, and utter some
rude, grunting ejaculations; this, he observed, took place
whenever any one, or all the band got hurt, or received any
special gratification, but mostly when injured. Now, it is
well known that a large portion of the semi-civilized, semipagan Sumatrans, believe that in the enormous tufts of the
buluh batang, as well as in the marringin-tree, there exists
widadiri dowas and rakshashas, or good and evil supernatural beings; and, what is remarkable, that throughout
Sumatra, all the beings of their pagan mythology are of the
feminine gender. I have heard described by their orung
menyanyee, or pantunverse-singers, some most ravishing
pictures of the widadiri, or good wood-nymphs of the bulah
batang."
~ 196. But beyond this, the history of Christianity indicates
that there exists a tendency, varying, it is true, with climate
and political relations, to overcrust the spiritual and vital
with the material. To show this, it is not necessary to go
further than to refer to the processes by which the reverence
for saints became saint-worship, by which saint-worship
became image-worship, by which, among the more ignorant,
image-worship has, as in certain of the nominal Roman
Catholic provinces in South America, become scarcely distinguishable from idolatry. Here is undoubtedly a great
development, but it is in a direction the reverse from that
announced by Positive Philosophy. So it has been with
pI1
268
~ 196 
HOW FAR ERRONEOUS.
Judaism. "The Jews," says an acute observer, "corrupted
their pure monotheistic truths into what these writers (the
followers of Comte) believe the fables, legends, miracles, and
absurd dogmas of the Old Testament; and as if that were
not enough, proceeded to bury them in the huge absurdities
of the Rabbinical traditions."*   Such is the view taken
from the stand-point of Positivism.  View the Jewish history from the stand-point of Christianity, as we are now
entitled to do, and the retrograde movement from the pure
Theism of the Old Testament, to a sensuous symbolism,
from obedience to the decrees of God to submission to the
commentaries of man, is equally manifest.t
~ 197. d2. The three stages of Theology, Metaphysics,
and Positivism are often coincident.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the present century
and in the very countries which Comte has selected as the
basis of his induction. Side by side we have Positivism,
Metaphysics, and Theology, each struggling with an energy
which would be strangely out of place in systems which suceceed each other in a definite line of descent.  The positive
philosophers find the supposed predecessor, to whose funeral
they so confidently issued invitations, arising from his grave,
and contemptuously driving the intruders from the coveted
domain. The profound research and the acute analysis of
* Eclipse of Faith, p. 144.
+ Observe Coleridge's antithesis of the Quaker and the Romish
doctrines of the sacrament:-" The one evaporated it into a myth;
the other consolidated it into an idol." Hlere, in the latter alternative,
God gives man a spiritual religion, which man carnalizes.  The "development" is not from matter to spirit, but from spirit to matter.
23*
~ 197
269
'11 
THEOLOGY:
Agassiz on the one side, the close logic and the comprehensive intellect of Sir William Hamilton on the other, have
shown that science, physical as well as metaphysical, is able
to maintain its own cause on its own ground against a purely
phenomenal philosophy. Nor are the disciples of Kant at
all disposed to yield the ground occupied by that great and
bold thinker. They feel that toward Kant the course of
Comte was unjust and ungenerous; that the French philosopher took from the German the system of classification
which was the latter's own, but which the former perverted
by applying it to an induction which, by excluding psychological phenomena and confining it to physical, tells that
half truth, which is a whole falsehood,-and they are now
proceeding with a strength greater than even that of their
master, (for the present controversy shows to them the side
on which his defences were left the most incomplete,) to
prove that true philosophy involves not merely those truths
which arise from phenomenal induction, but those also which
come from subjective faith and reason. Nor, if we pass to
the theological element, do we find it dying out. It will
be enough, in order to meet this point, to call attention to
the fact, that never, in the history of our race, was that
evangelical faith which, of all phases of Christianity is the
one least liable to the charge of symbolism, more active in
the multiplication of its agencies, more potent in the effect
produced.   Were the question one of mere statistics, it
would be at once decided.  The same sagacity which recognizes in the Cherbourg dock and in the Parisian walls,
in the increased discipline and multiplying numbers of the
French armies, the growing energy of France, could not fail
270
~ 197
m - 
NOT YET EXTINCT.
to perceive a similar proof of the progress of positive Christianity in the birth as well as growth of foreign missions in
the last fifty years, in the extraordinary cotemporaneous resuscitations of the Protestant churches of England and Germany, and in the power with which the press has acted in
the same direction through the great publication agencies
of Great Britain and America.
In public, and what may be called merely worldly opinion,
we see no sign of the alleged decay of Christian vigor. In
view of Comte's doctrine, as expounded by Mr. Buckle,
"that more may be learned respecting the moral nature of
man from statistical facts than from all the accumulated experience of ages," let us take, as an example, the attitude
of the public men of the United States toward religion. It
is not necessary here to go into the question of the actual
degree of faith on the part of those whose names will be
presently mentioned   It is sufficient for the present purpose
to take the proof at its lowest gauge, and to regard them
merely as representative men, as men responding to and
reiterating a definite public sentiment. And in this view
let us take the remarkable contrast between the public men
of the revolutionary era and those of the present era.  Of
the former, with the exception of Washington, Chief Justice
Jay, and Richard Henry Lee, it is difficult to find one who
was an unreserved believer in practical Christianity. Jefferson rejected the Pauline epistles entirely, discharged from
the Gospel narratives all the miracles, and, discrediting the
divine character of Christ, held only to certain of His precepts as forming a suitable moral code. John Adams, as
the correspondence between the two in their latter years
~ 197
271
I, 
THEOLOGY:
shows, held to the same belief; nor did Franklin believe even
as much. But when we pass farther down the line of history,
a great change is observable. John Quincy Adams, with
whom the second generation of American statesmen may be
said to begin, was a Unitarian, it is true, but of a stamp
very different from his father.  A professed believer in the
inspiration of the Scriptures, and a regular attendant at
what in many instances was orthodox public worship, he held
to a scheme of doctrine which Priestley or Middleton would
have rejected as identical with orthodoxy. General Jackson was not only in the last few years of his life an earnest
and devoted professor of religion, according to the usages of
the Presbyterian Church, but during his whole career unreservedly avowed an intellectual belief. Mr. Polk, though
with the qualifications which his greater reserve of character
was likely to produce, took the same position.  Mr. Clay,
Mr. Webster, General Harrison, and Mr. Benton, not only
professed a belief in Christianity as a Divine scheme, but,
at the most solemn periods of their lives, announced their
trust in the evangelical doctrines of grace.*
* With respect to Mr. Benton, whose rugged individuality led him
to repel, almost fiercely, attempts on the part of others to enter
within the precincts of the emotional in his very remarkable character, we have the following statement recently brought to light, being
part of a letter from Dr. May, the attendant physician of the deceased statesman:  "It may not be inappropriate for me here to state that although he
never expressed to me any views upon the subject of religion, he did
so fieely after this to the Rev. Dr. Sunderland, his pastor and friend,
as the following statemen' of Dr. Sunderland will show. He says:
272
-~ 197
.k- 
NOT YET EXTINCT.
~ 198. Now, this change of sentiment may be viewed
either as the expression of a subjective individual faith, or
as a response to an altered public sentiment.   It is enough
for the present purpose, as has just been observed, if the
latter be true. But it is hard to see how the former can,
with any justice, be rejected. Most of the professions of
faith made by those whose names have been mentioned, were
repeated, and this in language the most passionate and unreserved, when they were on their dying beds, with nothing
to gain from human applause, and everything to lose by
that Divine displeasure which, even on the deist's principles,
will visit hypocrisy and falsehood. Now, what interpretation does human judgment assign to declarations made under such circumstances in reference to other issues?   "It is
considered," says the common law, "that when an individual
is in constant expectation of immediate death, all temptation to falsehood, either of interest, hope, or fear, will be
removed, and the awful nature of his situation will be presumed to impress him as strongly with the necessity of a
strict adherence to truth as the most solemn obligation of
an oath administered in a court of justice. When every
hope of this world is gone, when every motive to falsehood
During the last week of Col. Benton's life I had several interviews
with him at his own request. Our conversation was mainly on the
subject of religion, and in regard to his own views and exercises in
the speedy prospect of death.  In these conversations he most emphatically and distinctly renounced all self-reliance, and cast himself
entirely on the mediation of the Lord Jesus Christ as the ground of
his acceptance with God.   His own words were,'God's mercy in
Jesus Christ is my sole reliance.'
~ 198
273
4 1 
METAPHYSICS:
is silenced, and the mind is induced, by the most powerful
considerations to speak the truth, a situation so solemn and
awful is considered by the law as creating the most impressive of sanctions."* If we accept this standard, and believe that even among public men, a class which almost
beyond all others is the most drawn away by worldly associations and by pride of opinion from the humbling doctrines of the cross, there is this gradual approach to a
definite gospel faith, what becomes of the assumption that
among the "select" men and leaders of human action theological belief is extinct? If we take the other alternative,
(and both are probably true,) that these declarations of
opinion are at least in part responsive to a prevailing public
sentiment, what becomes of the position that the "select"
races are passing through the same cycle?
~ 199. The difficulties which have just been mentioned in
respect to the theological era apply with equal force to the
metaphysical. There is no more evidence of metaphysics
having been born at the burial of theology, than there is of
theology having been buried at all. There is no more evidence
of metaphysics passing from infancy to manhood, than there
is of theology having passed from manhood to death. The
fact is, psychology, in its fullest sense, has of all sciences
been the most equal and the least susceptible of variation.
We may hit upon a series of eras of metaphysical speculation, and find a difficulty in saying which is the most vigorous.  Certainly if we take the present century there are no
symptoms of a progress to decay. The Scottish school,
* See Wharton's Cr. Law, ~ 669.
274
~ 199 
STILL EXISTING.
including Reid, Dugald Stewart, Dr. Thomas Brown, Sir J.
Mackintosh,  Sir W.  Hamilton;  the  German,  including
Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Feuerbach, Kant; the English,
including Whewell, Coleridge, Morell, and Archer Butler,
resent an array of intellectual splendor which is indicative
of anything but a sunset. Nor as we go backward, does
the brilliancy of the metaphysical orb vary. It would seem
as if in that point of the intellectual firmament the speculative genius of men has always centered, and from thence
diffused its most intense light. Let us go back to the beginning of the nineteenth century, and see whether in the period
to which we then arrive we discover an approach to the
opakeness   and  chaos  of  a merely  preparatory era. Fa    r
otherwise; for even Comte himself bows in recognition of
the almost inspired reason of Bacon, the acute analysis and
philosophical generalization of Des Cartes, the rarefied
and inexorable idealism of Spinoza, the exact sense of
Locke, the extraordinary learning and felicitous ingenuity
of Leibnitz, and the keen, though merely destructive speculativism of Hume. Nor, as we go still farther back, do
we discover any diminution of the power with which the
cotemporaneous intellectual energies of distinct periods bent
themselves to this particular point, and diffused from it
t      h       e      i       r        greatest brightness. So it was in the period of the
Schoolmen, the occasional frivolity of whose topics should
never lead us to forget the uniform ingenuity of their speculations. So it was with that grand Grecian school which
c o m p r i s e d    Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. So it wa s        at the
earliest period to which a technical intellectual history takes
us, viz., that in which Hindni philosophy, at least eight hun
~
~ 199
27 5
.kl 
COMTE'S THEORY:
dred years before Christ, almost anticipated future generations in refined subtlety. According to Comte, the birth
of the science of metaphysics was at this time more than
a thousand years distant. According to Comte, this science,
at the time of Locke, of Des Cartes, and of Bacon-of alL
its stages the exactest and most disciplined-was in a babbling and discursive  infancy.   And  now, according to
Comte, it is being carried to its grave.  In point of fact,
however, its proportions, almost at all times measured by
the full standard of the human mind, have remained, as that
mind has, at an altitude, which, though exhibiting undulations of surface, preserves now, so far as concerns its creative
and speculative powers, the same general height that it did
at the earliest period of its history.
~ 200. e2. In non-Christian countries, Fetichisnm, as it
is called, instead of being the accompaniment of a barbaric infancy, is cotenmporary with high metaphysical as
well as artistic culture.
Take, for instance, Egypt, when at the height of its
Aesthetic splendor, and observe the character of its worship.
"Ancient Egypt," says Mr. Gross, a writer who is far from
hostile to modern Positivism, "was a vast menagerie of
sacred animals, whose ample roof was the vault of heaven;
and from the confines of Thebes or Disopolis to the mouth
of the Nile, at Canobus, the whole country teemed with
hiero-animal life. "*   Thus  the  ram  was  worshiped at
Thebes; the goat at Chemmis, Hlermopolis, and Mendes;
the dog at Cynopolis; the wolf at Lycopolis; the cat at
* Gross, on Heathen Religions, p. 185.
276
~ 200 
WHAT HISTORY SAYS.
Bubastis; the crocodile at Tachompso. Besides these local
deities, there were others to whom was reserved a catholic
worship. Three holy bulls stood conspicuous among the
latter. The first was Mnevis, with black and bristly hair;
the second Onuphis, whose locks were shaggy and recurved;
the third Apis, on whose forehead a ray of light from
heaven had marked two white spots, one in the shape of a
triangle, the other  in that of a half-moon.   To  Apis
supreme honors were assigned.   When  found-and  the
chances against a bull with such a combination of color
and marks were, of course, great-the sacred animal was
"conveyed in triumphal procession to a temporary abode,
where, during the space of four months, he was attended
and fed with the greatest care, in a building, the east side of
which was uninclosed. At the expiration of this period, a
festival was proclaimed, which began at the new moon. As
soon as the solemnities were concluded, Apis was conducted
to Hieliopolis, where he had the honor to have every attention shown to him by the priests, during an interval of forty
days. This time having elapsed, he was finally brought to
Memphis, and duly installed in the Temple of Phthah,
where his presence was recognized in clouds of precious
incense and splendid offerings. If he died, or the time
arrived when he had to make room for a successor-which
happened at the termination of the Apis-period, or the
lunar cycle of twenty-five civil years-there was universal
mourning throughout Egypt until another Apis was found:
the dead one was either publicly entombed inthe Temple of
Serapis, or elsewhere privately interred.   Apis was the
symbol of Osiris, considered as the sun, as the Nile, and as
24
~ 200
277
L
"I 
FETICHISM:
the principle of fructification; and in consequence of the
connection of Osiris thus defined with Isis, Apis also symbolized this goddess, regarded as the moon, the fertile
earth, and material nature."*
~ 201. Now, if the positive theory be correct, Egypt, at
the time it was "this vast menagerie of sacred animals,"
must have been swaddled in the grossest ignorance. The
positive philosopher, if taken to those shores where the cat,
the dog, and the crocodile were worshiped, would say,
"Here, at least, I will find the rudeness of semi-idiotic infancy. Here I will see the human Fetich-worshiper uniting
in a common religious brotherhood with animals-e.g. the
dog and the monkey-from whom in moral and intellectual
attributes he is hardly distinguishable."
But how was it in fact? The memorials of the artistic
skill and of the economical energy and endurance of these
Fetich-worshipers-the only class in ancient history, in fact,
who are deserving of this name-will rival any that we
could suppose modern Europe, with all the advantages of
present civilization, to exhibit.   "It is evident to me," says
Champollion, "as it must be to all who have thoroughly
examined Egypt, or have an accurate knowledge of the
Egyptian monuments existing in Europe, that the arts commenced in Greece by a servile imitation of the arts of Egypt,
much more advanced than is vulgarly believed, at the period
at which the first Egyptian colonies came in contact with
the savage inhabitants of Attica and the Peloponnesus.
Without Egypt, Greece would probably never have become
* Gross, on Heathen Religions, p. 188.
278
~ 201
k- 
NOT BARBARIC.
the classical land of the fine arts. Such is my entire belief
in this great problem.  I write these lines almost in presence
of bas-reliefs which the Egyptians executed, with the most
elegant delicacy of workmanship, nineteen hundred years
before the Christian era."* No less emphatic is Belzoni's
testimony, after having, with a battering-ram, burst his way
at Goornau into these halls of "fabulous splendor," then
for the first time opened in three thousand years, and found
surrounded by the most elaborate sculpture, and the most
vivid paintings, in a mausoleum which even that of the
Escurial cannot rival, the alabaster sarcophagi of kings
who were themselves high priests of Fetichism.
~ 202 The same high artistic culture is exhibited in the
memorials we have of the cotemporaneous domestic life.
"The civilization of families," says a very recent observer
of these cemeteries, "must have been equal to the best days
of Rome. Articles of luxury, gold and silver ornaments,
fine colors and embroideries, all abounded, and it appears
evident that the splendor of life among the wealthy in
Egypt, at the time of the captivity, was never surpassed,
even in the days of Cleopatra."  "The period of Remesis
Sesostris has well been styled the Augustan era of Egypt.
The Nile valley was a continuous row of prosperous cities,
magnificent temples, and royal palaces. The arms of the
country were everywhere triumphant; the arts were cultivated, and adorned the cities, houses, and most of all the
tombs; nor is there at this remote age an article of household luxury, a fauteuil or a cooking utensil, a harp or a
* Champollion's Fifteenth Letter, dated Thebes.
~ 202
279 
POSITIVISM:
set of toys, that does not seem to have its counterpart in the
splendid tomb of this monarch, now lying open at Thebes."*
Nor were the industrial interests of the nation neglected.
Splendid ships, themselves identified with the public worship
as symbols, rode the Nile. A canal, one thousand stadia
long, joined the Red Sea with the Mediterranean. Mining
was conducted on a scale far transcending that of modern
times, for mountains were dug down to get at the ore, and
rivers turned from their channel to wash it out.
bl. Personal experience.
a2. Psychological.
~ 203. According to positivism, the experience of all
men, or, at all events, that of the higher and more cultivated individuals, begins with theology and ends either
with atheism, or, at least, with the recognition of government by a system of fixed and arbitrary law.
The experience of all men, we apprehend, is just the
other way.   There are few who, on turning back to the
earliest period of thought to which their memory can take
them, but will agree to the position that such period was
godless. The infant, it is said, is a Fetich-worshiper, and,
as it stretches out its hands to the fire or the moon, does
but imitate the Saboeanism of the Chaldean shepherds. But
at this early stage of infancy this supposed act of worship
can be regarded as a mere gesture of pleasure or of acquisitiveness. This view is strengthened by running the
parallel still farther. Do we see in childhood the progress
from Fetichism through polytheism to monotheism? Comte's
* Prime's Boat-life in Egypt, etc., pp. 476-7.
280
~ 203
LkL
l 
~ 204-205      OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE.
own detachment from society, and his domestic isolation
(until the later period of his life) combined with the natural rigor and coldness which distinguished his earlier days,
in leading him to estimate the innocent simplicity and faith
of childhood at a pitch in which few will acquiesce. For
most of those who go back to even a religiously educated
infancy will recollect what confused meaning was assigned
to the theological formulas, e.g. catechisms or hymns, with
which the early memory was charged, and how the eye associated with the pulpit and the pulpit cushion, the pew, and
the chancel, anything but religious thoughts.
~ 204. But we have other tests than that of individual
retrospection,-tests not unlike those by which, through a
cavity produced by disease or wounds, Harvey was able to
verify his theory of the circulation of the blood. Take children, whom blindness and a loss of hearing and of speech
have sealed up from religious culture, and then, when by the
humane agencies of modern art, an avenue is at last opened
to their understanding, observe how utterly ignorant they
are of the first idea of worship. And so, also, with those
who have been brought up-as late English parliamentary
inquiries show us is not rarely the case even in that enlightened country-in a social ignorance, perhaps even more profound than that of a deprivation of the senses.
~ 205. If we measure the condition of the religious element by its moral results we are led to the same conclusion.
A child's heart gives no indication of any intuitive religious
ascendeney. Dr. Arnold, than whom there have been few
who have united a wider field of observation with healthier
discerning faculties, and whose theological bias was not such
24*
mil
281 
POSITIVISM:
as to lead him to an exaggerated view of innate corruption,
told the boys at Rugby, in one of his sermons, that the four
great characteristics of childhood were "teachableness, ignorance, selfishness, and living only for the present."*  "In
the last three of these, the perfect man should put away
childish things.""t  "Our path" (that of those in whom religious principle has made a settlement) "is not backwards,
but onwards * * * * When we compare a boy's state after
his first half year, or year, at school, with what it is afterwards; when we see the clouds again clearing off; when we
find coarseness succeeded again by delicacy; hardness and
selfishness again broken up, and giving place to affection
and benevolence; murmuring and self-will exchanged for
humility and self-denial; and the profane or impure, or false
tongue uttering again only the words of truth and purity;
and when we see that all these good things are now, by
God's grace, rooted in the character; that they have been
tried, and grown up amidst the trial; that the know
* It was in reference to the first of these that Arnold considered
our Lord to speak, when He declared that to enter into the kingdom
of heaven it was necessary to "become as little children." It should
be recollected that these words were uttered as part of a rebuke of
the ambition of the disciples.  They desired to know "who should
be greatest in the kingdom of heaven." They had, in their personal
assumption, even endeavored to hinder "little children" from coming
to Him.  His answer was such as to show them that those who were
to enter into the kingdom of heaven were to be stripped of all
earthly distinctions. They were, in this light, to go back to infancy,
and, in the second birth, to proceed as naked to the world above as
in the first birth to the world below.
t Arnold's Christian Life, its Course, Hiindrances, etc., p. 68, etc.
282
~ 205
.k. 
OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE.
ledge of evil has made them hate it the more, and be the
more aware of it,-then we can look upon our calling with
patience, and even with thankfulness." In this view the loss
of the mere superficial and ignorant simplicity and ignorance
of childhood is not to be mourned over, when followed by
the       real humility of Christian experience:
Grieve not for these: nor dare lament
That thus from childhood's thoughts we roam:
Not backward are our glances bent,
But forward to our Father's home.
Eternal growth has no such fears,
But, freshening still with seasons past,
The old man clogs its earlier years,
And simple childhood comes the last.*
~ 206. The experience of the man of the world will coincide with that of the Christian on this point. There are few
who will not recollect periods, both in themselves and in
children who have come under their observation, in which
the duty of speaking truth, and of respecting the property
and regarding the feelings of others, was regarded with far
greater laxity than it came to be under the influence of
worldly culture, if not of religious experience.t
* Burbridge's Poems, p. 309, quoted by Dr. Arnold in a note in
which he introduces the extract by saying, "This thought," (that in
the text) "is expressed very beautifully in lines as wise and true as
they are poetical."
t MIr. Thackeray thus speaks on this point:-" The Siinplicity of
Youth.-Nevertheless, as we have hinted, the lad was by no means
the artless stripling he seemed to be. He was knowing enough, with
~ 206
283
20 
POSITIVISM:
b'. Statistical.
~ 207. Let us turn, however, to "statistics," which are
assumed by positivism to be of so much higher value than
all his blushing cheeks; perhaps more wily and wary than he grew
to be in after years. Sure, a shrewd and generous man (who has led
an honest life and has no secret blushes for his conscience) grows
simpler as he grows older; arrives at his sum of right by more rapid
processes of calculation; learns to eliminate false arguments more
readily, and hits the mark of truth with less previous trouble of
aiming and disturbance of mind   Or is it only a servile delusion,
that some of our vanities are cured with our growing years, and that
we become more just in our perceptions of our own and our neiglhbor's shortcomings? I would humbly suggest that young people,
though they look prettier, have larger eyes, and not near so many
wrinkles about their eyelids, are often as artful as some of their
elders. What little monsters of cunning your frank schoolboys are!
How they cheat mamma! how they hoodwink papa! how they humbug the housekeeper! how they cringe to the big boy for whom they
fag at school! what a long lie and five years' hypocrisy and flattering is their conduct to Dr. Birch!  And the little boys' sisters! are
they any better, and is it only after they come out in the world that
the little darlings learn a trick or two?"-The Virginians, No.6.
MAontaigne, as we are reminded by Dr. Buchanan,* "speaks of an
error maintained by Plato,' that children and old people were most
susceptible of religion, as if it sprung and derived its credit from our
weakness.'  And we find M. Comte himself complaining, somewhat
bitterly, that his  tondcam friend, the celebrated St. Simon, had exhibited, as he advanced in years, (cette tendance banale vers une
vague religiosite) a tendency toward something like religion."t The
same retrograde motion has been exhibited, though in a march still
f 1 Buchanan, on Faith, etc., p. 488.
284
~ 207
* Faith iii Gl d, etc., vol. i. p. 498. 
OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE.
psychological observation. And here the statement may be
safely ventured, that where we find one ease of religious infancy maturing in a skeptical old age, we find twenty of the
contrary. The Christian will remember the youth of John
Bunyan, in its strange alternations of roystering debauch
and awful remorse, and that of John Newton, in its fierce
abandonment; nor will the'philosopher fail to recall that of
Robert Hall, pure indeed, but giving its first intellectual
adhesion to rationalism, and passing through Socinianism to
evangelical Christianity, and those of Southey, Coleridge,
and Wordsworth, in which Comte's order was reversed,
positivism coming first and theology last. Certainly among
those speaking the English tongue, the cases, even in this
supposed age of metaphysical doubt, if not of positive skepticism, are very rare where men of eminence in any department have distinguished their maturer years by avowed
atheism. Mr. Buckle has thought proper to dispose of the
splendid exception afforded by Mr. Burke to the pretended
course of positive development, by announcing that that
eminent statesman and gorgeous rhetorician was "deranged."
But, so far as intellectual assent to the truth of Christianity
more extraordinary for the short period in which it united the extremest points, by Mr. O. A. Brownson, the sociology of whose youth
has developed into ultramontane Romanism. And lastly, the great
founder of positivism himself, who was in his own person to have
exhibited the inexorable progress of phenomenal truth, turns out to
have yielded to the seductions of superstition, and in his old age,
as will be presently shown, to have succumbed to a "vague religiosity" which made up for its disbelief in whatever was revealed, by
its faith in whatever was not.
285
~ 207 
POSITIVISM:
is concerned-and that is the only test which positivism
admits —MIr. Burke, among modern statesmen, is far from
standing alone.   Since the subsidence of the French Revo lution, at which period the positive era is supposed to begin,
it is difficult to find a public man either in England or this
country, who has not avowed at least such intellectual belief. And not a few, as has just been observed, have marked
the declining years so specially relied on as the period of
"positive" belief, by an emphatic Christian confession.
Even among the leaders in inductive science-those whose
supposed progression toward atheism is the ground-work of
positive philosophy-there will be found few who do not
recognize, not merely a definite theism, but the divine legation of Christianity itself.   "HIere," says Dr. Hitchcock,
speaking on this point, "we reckon the princes of the intellectual world, such as Newton, Kepler, Galileo, Pascal,
Boyle, Copernicus, Linneus, Black, Boerhaave, and Dalton; and among the living such men as Herschel, Brewster,
Whewell, Sedgwick, Owen, and a multitude of others.
The very same argumentation that leads such original discoverers to derive the principles of science from facts in
nature, carries them irresistibly backward to a First Cause;
and, indeed, the inductive principle, as developed by Bacon,
forms the true basis on which to build the whole fabric of
natural religion; and he who fully admits the truth of
natural religion, is in a state of preparation for receiving
revealed truth to supply its deficiencies.  So that, upon the
whole, the inductive sciences are, of all others, most favorable
to religion, and the most intimately connected with it."*
* Religious Truth Illustrated from Science, p. 31.
286
~ 207 
OPPOSED BY EXPERIENCE.
The educational history of the United States gives no
support to M.  Comte's theory.   Take, for instance, the
colleges at the era immediately succeeding the Revolution.
In Yale College, the number of communicants, immediately
before the accession of President Dwight, was not over ten;
and once, when the Lord's Supper was administered, about
that time, only one undergraduate was present.  In 1797
the tide turned. In 1802, of two hundred and fifty then in
college, one-third were professed and earnest Christians,
and of these one-half became clergymen. At present, the
proportion of church members is much larger.
In Bowdoin College, from 1802 to 1806, and afterwards
in 1811, there was not a single professed Christian among
the undergraduates. In 1825, a reaction began so remarkable as to justify the remark of Professor Stowe, that "if
the religious character of the college gains as much from
the year 1850 to 1875, as it did from 1825 to 1850, it will
be all that the most ardent friends of the Lord Jesus can
reasonably hope for before the millennium."
In eleven New England colleges in 1853, out of 2163
students, 745 were professors of religion, and 343 candidates
for the ministry. At present, 1859, the number of professors of religion may be rated as two-thirds of the aggregate.
In the educational institutions of Europe, the progress has
been in the same direction.   Tholuck tells us that, with the
exception of Wurtemberg, there were, thirty years ago,
among the German teachers of divinity, "not more than
three or four that might be called evangelical."  Knapp
himself, timid in his course, if not indistinct in his conceptions, was the only believer in a real Christianity in the
~ 207
287 
POSITIVISM:
University of Halle, which contained no less than nine hundred divinity students; and he stated at this time, that out
of one thousand students in general, he knew but one real
Christian, and he was a Moravian.   Neander began the
battle nearly single-handed, though Schleiermacher walked
totteringly by his side in his earlier steps, giving an impulse
even where he was unable to confess a principle. The
Prussian  Evangelical  Union  of 1817, though patriotic
rather than religious, registered a marked advance. Then
came Hengstenberg, resolutely and even defiantly vindicating the inspiration of Holy Writ; and Tholuck and Olshansen, the one bringing a most pathetic and persuasive
eloquence, the other an inexhaustible fund of thought, and
both unswerving loyalty, to the work of exposition. Then
followed Nitzsch, Julius Muiiller, Dorner, Lange, Ullman,
Rothe, Stier, Hagenbach, Herzog,  Twesten, eminent for
their literary gifts, turning back the current of skeptical
culture that was almost submerging Germany, and with
them Wicheru in all the loveliness of his comprehensive
Christian tenderness.  Thirty years ago, there was scarcely
an orthodox minister to be found. At the Kirchentag held
in Berlin in 1853, there were two thousand, and these all
representative-men. In Berlin, we have in the theological
chairs, Hengstenberg, Tholuck, Twesten, and Nitzsch, and in
the pulpits, Kriimmacher, Hoffman, Arndt, and Biichsel.
In Gottingen, positive orthodoxy is taught by Dorner and
Ehrenfeuchter. Leipsic, once the seat of a resolute skepticism, now has its theological faculty controlled by Linder,
Ahlfeld, and Kahnis, all holding a high Lutheranism, and
the latter, as those familiar with his essay on German Pro
288
~ 20T 
OPPOSED TO EXPERIENCE.
testantism will bear witness, maintaining an almost uncompromising altitudinarianism. In Tiibingen, Beck, Landerer,
Palmer, and Oehler, all of them "without exception decidedly Christian and evangelical scholars,"* follow Strauss,
Vischer, and Baur.
I can see no facts in England on which the induction of
Comte, or of MAr. Buckle, who follows him in this respect, can
be based. The revival of the Anglican Church at the close
of the last century is notorious. The funds contributed toward
foreign missions form a test of this. From 1769 to 1788,
they averaged at ~4114. In 1835 they were about ~100,000.
In 1856 they were ~250,000. The increase has been equal
and gradual. In education the movement has certainly not
been in the contrary direction. "The tone of young men
at the University," said Dr. Maberly, head-master at Winchester, speaking of thirty years back, "whether they came
from Winchester, Eton, Rugby, Harrow, or wherever else,
was universally irreligious. A religious undergraduate was
very rare." But speaking of fifteen years after, the same
authority says, "Dr. Arnold's pupils were thoughtful, manlyminded, conscious of duty and obligations when they first
came to college."
cl. Organic structure.
~ 208. "The scientific principle," says Comte,t "involved
in the phrenological view, is that the functions, affective
* Schaff's Germany and its Universities, p. 101, from which a part
of the sketch in the text is reduced.
t Pos. Phil., Martineau's trans., Appleton's edition, p. 388.
25
~ 208
289 
POSITIVISM:
and intellectual, are more elevated, more human, if you
will, and at the same time less energetic, in proportion to
the exclusiveness with which they belong to the higher part
of the zoological series, their positions being in portions of
the brain more and more restricted in extent, and further
removed from its immediate origin,-according to the anatomical decision that the skull is simply a prolongation of
the vertebral column, which is the primitive centre of the
nervous system.   Thus, the least developed and anterior
part of the brain is appropriated to the characteristic faculties of humanity; and the most voluminous and hindmost
part to those which constitute the basis of the whole of the
animal kingdom. Hlere we have a new and confirmatory
instance of the rule which we have had to follow in every
science; that it is necessary to proceed from the most
general to the more special attributes, in the order of their
diminishing generality."
From this general position the conclusion is reached that,
as arising upward from the vertebral column, we come first
to the animal properties, next to the sentimental, and then
to the intellectual, so human life will fall into three parallel
divisions.  To this it may be remarked:
~ 209. a2. It rests on a theory which in itself is not much
more than a mere hypothesis, and which, in its present application, is negatived by the fact that the supposed organs
in the cranium have been removed without affecting the corresponding attributes.
~ 210. b'. Life does not show that the sensual, the sentimental, and the intellectual, separate into distinct grades.
On the contrary, they coexist in so large a number of cases
~ 209-210
290
L —
ilill 
HOW  FAR ATHEISTIC.
as to defeat any reliable generalization.   "Lusty minds give
lusty morals," we have been told; and the cases of Mirabeau, of Burns, of Byron, are sad illustrations of this truth.
~ 211. c2. If we extend the proposition over history, we
find an insuperable difficulty from the argument proving too
much.   If each of the three compartments of the brain is
to have its group of centuries, each of the minor lobes is to
have its decade. If we are to have a final period for the
intellectual, we must have that period subdivided, as is the
front of the brain, so that each of the intellectual, or semiintellectual faculties-causality, comparison, music, formcan have its specific era.  It is not necessary to pause here
to say that this assumption is as hostile to present experience as is the hypothesis of the general stages to past
history.
C. GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS BY WHICHI THiE POSITIVIST
PHILOSOPHY IS TO BE MET.
a'. Thte pushing back of first causes strengthens rather
than weakens the theistic argument.
~ 212. The falling of water may be so governed as to
move the hands of a twenty-four hour clock, but to make a
clock that will wind itself in periodic succession requires the
highest degree of human skill,-to so construct it that it
will renew itself indefinitely, requires a skill which is divine.
If we trace marks of contrivance in that law of adaptation
which would place a hundred water-clocks in harmonious
action, should we not trace such marks still more strongly in
a mechanism capable itself of making and governing such
clocks in an infinite succession?
It's
~ 211-212
291
. 
POSITIVISM:
The hand-car on a railroad, also, as it glides before us
under the immediate action of the human hand, leaves no
doubt on our minds as to the spontaneity and purpose with
which it moves. Is this conviction diminished when we find
this specific impulse, caught up with an infinite series of
others, and united in a vast consistent plan; when we see
hundreds of locomotives-some with freight, some with passengers, each governed by its own law which substitutes
mechanical for human strength-traversing, in obedience to
a preordained programme, a road several hundred miles
long, and this with almost perfect regularity as to distances
and hours? That the development of a system of general
and harmonious laws is looked upon by the positivist as
hostile to theism, is not disputed; and it is equally clear
that the positive philosophers have striven to make this impression both general and deep.   Undoubtedly the code
which they have endeavored to extract from the phenomena
of the universe is destructive of all faith in Providence, but
the objection lies, not to their seeking to establish the general laws by which the world is governed, but to the very
erroneous induction by which the laws they announce have
been obtained. The existence of a comprehensive and beneficent system of law, in fact, is the strongest evidence of the
existence of a Divine lawmaker and judge.
b1. No materials exist frot which a system of positive
laws, as forming a Divine rule of government, may be
inferred.
~ 213. There is a vital distinction between a causal law,
i.e. one that rules the genesis of events, and an empirical
law, one that merely registers their occurrence. There is a
292
~ 213
'I 
ITS INDUCTION IMPERFECT.
vital distinction, for instance, between the time-tables issued
from period to period by the officers of an extended railroad and the systematized observation of running by even a
long and accurate series of travelers.  The records of the
latter are open to error: (1) from the imperfectness of observation; (2) from occasional disturbances of time at specific points, which may be compensated for in the long run;
(3) and-which is the main consideration-from  a variation in the hours of departure of the trains which the timetable itself may indicate as to take place at a specific period,
but which prior observations will not denote. Now, let a
traveler rely on the latter, and he will find that though in a
mere statistical point of view the results, like empirical laws
in general, are interesting as helps to the memory, and
useful as the base for business tables, they are in themselves of no permanent and absolute value as indications of
the future.   What is more, supposing, as geology teaches
us, that there are certain cycles of interruption in the process of the universe itself, these empirical results lead to
positive error. A man who relies on a superseded table of
hours of departure is worse off than he who goes to the
depot and waits.
It would be out of place to show here that the mere mnemonic tables of phenomenal observation are, from their
nature, subject to certain periodic interruptions, whose secret
mere human induction cannot reach, but which destroy their
continuous value. Mr. Babbage, in that remarkable treatise
known as the " Ninth Bridgewater Treatise," has shown that
in a very long series of events such periodic variations, i.e.
alterations by the Grand Engineer of the universe, of the
25*
~ 213
293
il.
:L 
POSITIVISM:
time-table by which events proceed, are mathematically certain. The geologic record gives proof that such alterations
and readjustments have from time to time occurred.
~ 214. The results of empirical observation are, therefore, incapable of becoming permanent laws for the future.
In this connection the following remarks, by Archbishop
Whately, may be well studied:-" There is no more fruitful
source of confusion of thought than that ambiguity of the
language employed on these subjects, (logical and physical
sequence,) which tends to confound together these two
things so entirely distinct in their nature.  There is hardly
any argumentative writer on subjects involving a discussion
of the Causes or Effects of anything, who has clearly perceived and steadily kept in view the distinction I have been
speaking of, or who has escaped the errors and perplexities
thence resulting. The wide extent accordingly, and the importance of the mistakes and difficulties arising out of the
ambiguity complained of, is incalculable. Of all the' Idola
Fori,'* none is perhaps more important in its results. To
dilate upon this point as fully as might be done with advantage, would exceed my present limits; but it will not be
irrelevant to offer some remarks on the origin of the ambiguity complained of, and on the cautions to be used in
guarding against being misled by it.
"The Premise by which anything is proved is not necessarily the Cause of the fact's being such as it is, but it is
the cause of our knowing, or being convinced that it is so;
e.g. the wetness of the earth is not the cause of rain, but it
* Bacon.
294
~ 214 
ITS INDUCTION IMPERPECT.
is the cause of our knowing that it has rained. These two
things-the Premise which produces our conviction, and
the Cause which produces that of which we are convincedare the more likely to be confounded together, in the looseness of colloquial language, from the circumstance that (as
has been above remarked) they frequently coincide; as, e.g.
when we infer that the ground will be wet from the fall of
rain which produces that wetness. And hence it is that
the same words have come to be applied, in common, to
each kind of Sequence; e.g. an Effect is said to'follow'
from a Cause, and a Conclusion to'follow' from the Premises; the words'Cause' and'Reason,' are each applied
indifferently, both to a Cause properly so called, and to the
Premise of an Argument; though'Reason,' in strictness
of speaking, should be confined to the latter.'Therefore,'
'hence,'' consequently,' etc., and also'since,'' because,' and
'why,' have, likewise, a corresponding ambiguity.
~ 215. "The multitude of words which bear this double
meaning (and that in all languages) greatly increases our
liability to be misled by it; since thus the very means men
resort to for ascertaining the sense of any expression are infected with the very same ambiguity; e.g. if we inquire what
is meant by a'Cause,' we shall be told that it is that from
which something'follows;' or, which is indicated by the
words'therefore,'consequently,' etc., all of which expressions are as equivocal and uncertain in their signification
as the original one. It is in vain to attempt ascertaining by
the balance the true amount of any commodity if uncertain
weights are placed in the opposite scale.  Hence it is that
so many writers, in investigating the Cause to which any
~ 215
295
.4 
POSITIVISM:
fact or phenomenon is to be attributed, have assigned that
which is not a Cause, but only a Proof that the fact is so;
and have thus been led into an endless train of errors and
perplexities. "*
cl. The subordination of human conduct to absolute law
is destructive of individuality.
~ 216. The influence of positive philosophy on merely intellectual progress it may not be out of place here briefly to
consider.t JIetaphysical speculation it is the avowed object of positivism to extinguish. What would be the result
of this is stated by Sir W. Hamilton in the following brilliant passage:
* Whately's Rhet., part i. chap. ii. i 3.
t This is shown in science itself. Positivism, as adjusted by
Comte, is to be a finality beyond which discovery is not to go. Even
the astronomer, according to the positivist chief, is to be admonished
lest he push his investigations too far.
"We subjectively, then, condense all astronomical theories round
our globe as a centre; and we absolutely reject all theories which,
as disconnected with our globe, are by that fact at once mere idle
questions, even granting them to be within our reach. This leads us
finally to eliminate, not merely the so-called sidereal astronomy, but
all planetary studies which concern stars invisible to the naked eye,
and which have, consequently, no real influence on the earth. The
true domain of astronomy will now, as at the beginning of things, be
limited to the five planets which have always been known, together
with the sun, equally the centre of their movements as of the earth's
and the moon, our only satellite in the heavens.   *  *  *  *  *
"We put aside all inquiries, as absurd as they are idle, as to the
temperature of the stars or their internal constitution.  *  *  *
"Biology may be led to lay too much stress on insignificant beings
or acts."
296
~ 216
low1 
HOW  FAR DESPOTIC.
" Nor would such a result have been desirable, had the
one exclusive opinion been true, as it was false-innocent,
as it was corruptive. If the accomplishment of philosophy
imply a cessation of discussion-if the result of speculation
be a paralysis of itself; the consummation of knowledge is
the condition of intellectual barbarism.   Plato has prooundly defined man,'the hunter of truth;' for in this chase,
as in others, the pursuit is all in all, the success comparatively nothing.'Did the Almighty,' says Lessing,'holding in His right hand Truth, and in His left Search after
Truth, deign to proffer me the one I might prefer;-in all
humility, but without hesitation, I should request-Search
after Truth.'  We exist only as we energize; pleasure is
the reflex of unimpeded energy; energy is the mean by
which our faculties are developed; and a higher energy the
end which their development proposes. In action is thus
contained the existence, happiness, improvement, and perfection of our being; and knowledge is only precious as it
may afford a stimulus to the exercise of our powers, and
the condition of their more complete activity. Speculative
truth is, therefore, subordinate to speculation itself; and its
value is directly measured by the quantity of energy which
it occasions- immediately  in  its discovery -mediately
through its consequences. Life to Endymion was not preferable to death; aloof from practice, a waking error is
better than a sleeping truth.  Neither, in point of fact, is
there found any proportion between the possession of truths
and the developmnent of the mind in which they are deposited.   Every learner in science is now familiar with
more truths than Aristotle or Plato ever dreamt of know
~ 216
297
,Rll 
POSITIVISM:
ing; yet, compared with the Stagirite or the Athenian, how
few among our masters of modern science rank higher than
intellectual barbarians! Ancient Greece and modern Europe prove, indeed, that'the march of intellect' is no
inseparable concomitant of'the march of science;'-that
the cultivation of the individual is not to be rashly confounded with the progress of the species.
"But if the possession of theoretical facts be not convertible with mental improvement; and if the former be important only as subservient to the latter; it follows that the
comparative utility of a study is not to be principally estimated by the complement of truths which it may communicate, but by the degree in which it determines our higher
capacities to action. But though this be the standard by
which the different methods, the different branches, and the
different masters of philosophy ought to be principally (and
it is the only criterion by which they can all be satisfactorily) tried; it is nevertheless a standard by which neither
methods, nor sciences, nor philosophers have ever yet been
even inadequately appreciated.   The  critical history of
philosophy, in this spirit, has still to be written; and when
written, how opposite will be the rank, which on the higher
and more certain standard, it will frequently adjudge-to
the various branches of knowledge, and the various modes
of their cultivation-to different ages, and countries, and
individuals, from that which has been hitherto partially
awarded, on the vacillating authority of the lower!
"On this ground (which we have not been able to state,
far less adequately to illustrate,) we rest the pre-eminent
utility of metaphysical speculations. That they comprehend
298
~ 216
= = 
ITS DESPOTISM.
all the sublimest objects of our theoretical and moral interest; that every (natural) conclusion concerning God, the
soul, the present worth and the future destiny of man, is
exclusively metaphysical, will be at once admitted. But we
do not found the importance, on the paramount dignity, of
the pursuit.  It is as the best gymnastic of the mind-as
a mean, principally, and almost exclusively conducive to the
highest education of our noblest powers, that we would
vindicate to these speculations the necessity which has too
frequently been denied them.   By no other intellectual application (and least of all by physical pursuits) is the soul
thus reflected on itself, and its faculties concentred in such
independent, vigorous, unwonted, and continued energy;
by none, therefore, are its best capacities so variously and
intensely evolved.' Where there is most life, there is the
victory.*I"
~ 217. Without accepting all the positions laid down in
the remarkable passage which is given above, it is enough
for the present purpose to call attention to the truth of the
main position Sir W. Hamilton establishes, viz., that it
is essential to intellectual life, as well as to spiritual, that
there should be a continued striving toward the infinite, a
gradual growth and strengthening by an approximation to
the centre of Truth and Grace.
~ 218. So much for freedom of thought. As to the influence of positivism on freedom of action, there is still
less room to doubt.   Individual liberty, as a factor, did
not enter into the calculations of the great founder of
* Sir W. Hamiltoi's Discussions, p. 46; HIarper's edition.
~ 217-218
299 
POSITIVISM:
positivism. Everything, by his philosophy, as will be presently more fully shown, is to be done by a splendid and
exhaustive centralization. By this are to be ordained rites
and ceremonies, creeds and beliefs, natural affection and
supernatural awe, occupations and pursuits, labor and relaxation, manners and usages. Throughout the whole of
the comprehensive and elaborate scheme which Comte has
developed as the digest of past experience and the law
of future action, we meet with no reference to the liberty of
choice on the part of the individual man. Everything is
prescribed by him down to the minutest detail. All power
is taken from the individual and vested in the government
which is to execute this complex code. Of course, in such
a scheme a representative government is out of the question. Hence it is that the central authority proposed by
Comte is essentially autocratic.  It is to act, it is true, in
conformity with "the positive laws of nature," so far as they
are discovered;  but as it executes, so it interprets these
laws, and, when they do not apply, ordains new laws for the
special purpose.   It is no wonder, therefore, that Comte
hailed with rapture the resuscitation of the Napoleonic
system which marked his later days, and declared the
usurpation of December 2, 1850, by which Louis Napoleon,
in violation of his oath, destroyed the French constitution,
and assumed dictatorial powers, to be "the fortunate crisis
which has lately set aside the parliamentary regimen, and
instituted a dictatorial republic." So it is also that the
Emperor Nicholas is eulogized as one "who, while he gives
the immense empire of Russia all the progress compatible
with its actual condition, preserves it by his energy and
!II
300
~ 218 
ITS PARALYSIS.
fprudence fro))t useless ferment."  To  positivism representative  government  is peculiarly inauspicious.   "The
actual form of dictatorial power," says Comte, speaking of
France, "already permits the direct propagation of all
thought that has a tendency to reconstruction.  For it has
at last (Napoleon III.'s destruction of the Republic) broken
the power, which could lead to no good, of mere talkers.
* * * During the last four years the reason of the
people has suffered profoundly from the unfortunate exercise of universal suffrage. * * A blind spirit of pride
has been developed in our proletaires, and they have been
led to think that they could settle the highest social questions without any serious study. The southern population
of Western Europe have been much less tainted by evil.
The resistance of Catholicism has sheltered them against
the metaphysical influence of Protestantism and Deism. But
reading negative books begins to spread the spirit even
there."
~ 219. One remedy alone exists, and that is the creation
of a dictator, who, armed with a positive law of inexorable
precision and universal application, controls not merely
society, but thought.   This scheme, it is hardly necessary
to say, is as fatal to intellectual growth as it is to
moral agency and civil freedom. We may, then, well pause
to apply to the genius of positivism that magnificent reply, which Schiller gives us, as addressed by the Marquis
von Posa to Philip II.:
26
~219
301
L; 
POSITIVISM:
PHILIP. (Something in the way in which Comte complacently turns to
the south of Europe.)                     Look
Upon my Spain. Do you not see that here
Blooms happiness beneath unclouded peace?
This rest to Flanders I would now extend.
MARQUIS.
A churchyard's rest! And you yet would hope
To end what you have now begun; you hope
To check the upward growth of Christendom,
The universal spring-tide to restrain
That all the world would freshen! You would stand
Alone in Europe; you would cast yourself
Under the wheel of that sublime decree
That orders all things onward; you would seize
With human arm upon its spokes!
*    *    But no!
Nature herself forbids it! She is built
On freedom, and from it her opulence
Is drawn.
And He, the world's great Architect,
Rather than see man's liberty destroyed,
Permits the hosts of sin awhile to rage.
Grandly He sits behind vice-regent laws,He, the great Master-workman; and those laws,
But not Himself, the blinded skeptic sees,
And cries " O laws, be our divinity!"
And see! This skeptic's blasphemy speaks more
To His great praise than e'en the Christian's psalm.*
* Schiller, Don Carlos, act ii., scene x. I have given in the text
rather a paraphrase than a translation. The original stands thus;
PHILIP.
Sehet
In meinem Spanlien euch urn. Hier bliiliht
302
~ 219 
ITS OBSTRUCTIVISM.
It is in this that we may see the inconsistency of positivism with human liberty and progress.
d1. The religious sanctions of positivism are inadequate.
a2. In what these sanctions consist.
~ 220. In his "Catechisme de la Religion Positive,"* a
Des Buirgers Glilck in nie bewolktem Frieden;
Und diese Ruhe go6nn' ich den Flamandern.
AIAIQUIS, (schnell.)
Die Ruhe eines Kirchhofs! Und Sie hoffen
Zu endigen, was sie begannen; hoffen
Der Christenheit gezeitigte Verwandlung,
Den allgemeinem Fruhling aufzuhalten,
Der die Gestatt der welt verjungt? Sie wollen
Allein in ganz Europa; sich dem Rade
Des Weltverhbingnisses, das unaufhaltsam
In vollem Laufe vollt, engegen werfen?
Mlit menschenarm in seine Speichen fallen?
Sie werden nicht!  *  *  *
Sehlien Sie sich um
In seiner herrlichen Natur! Auf Freiheit
Ist se gegriindet-und wie reich ist sie
Durch Freiheit! * * *
Er-der Freiheit
Entziueckende Erscheinung nilcht zu sto6ren        Er 1i'sst des Uebels grauenvolles Herr
In seinem Welt all lieber toben-ihn
Den Kiuntzler, wird man nicht gewahr, bescheiden
Verhuillt er sich in ewige Gesetze;
Die sieht der Freigeist, doch nicht ihn.  Wozu
Ein Gott? sagt er; die Welt ist sich genug!
Und keines Christen Andaclht hat ihn mehr
Als dieses Freigeists Lhsterung gepriesen.
The translation used in the text is by Mr. Congreve.  London:
John Chapman, 1858.
~ 220
303 
POSITIVE RELIGION:
workl not published by him until his maturer years, Comte
brings before us a system of religion which he considers as
a requisite appendage to the code of economical law he
previously promulged.   Ilis position, when he conceived
this scheme, was greatly changed from what it was when
his lectures were planned. Then he was poor, friendless,
obscure, and solitary. Now he has affluence at his command; he has many friends who are capable both of appreciating and of rewarding his services; he is at the
head of a numerous school of enthusiastic disciples;  his
genius is acknowledged even where his doctrines are the
most condemned;  and he has established a home of his
own, at the head of which stands a lady who, however unreconcilable with Christian ethics may have been her connection with him, devotes powers of fascination, almost unrivaled, to the object of making that home happy.* The
* Comte has made his relations to Madame Clotilde de Vaux public property by introducing them into the mythology of which he is
the centre. The most devout worshiper of the Olympian gods could
not speak of their domestic alliances with a more delicate reverence
than does the founder of positivism when speaking of her, who,
though entering for a time into his home, passed from thence to the
throne before which all men are to bow. Greater himself than Numa
Pompilius, inasmuch as the laws which regulate mind are higher
than those which regulate matter, she, "the holy Clotilde," the companion of his solitude and reinvigorator of his philosophy, rises
above the nymph Egeria, and unites the three anomalous attributes
of being "his objective daughter,"  "his subjective mother," and
"the best personification of the Supreme Being."  Mormonism cannot surpass this in its grotesque sacrilegiousness; Mormonism, in its
spiritual wifedoms, scarcely gives us anything worse than the rela
304
~ 220 
HOW IT CAME ABOUT.
austere philosopher, under this soothing influence, found a
new sphere open to him which required a new code of laws
for its government.   Sensibility to the beautiful and the re
tions which are covered with this mythological veil. Of this "angelic
impulse that commanded his second life," this "incomparable angel,"
as he thinks proper to call her, we know but little more than that
she was a married woman and a novelist, and that by some process
which is not defined, she had, when she met Comte, got rid of her
husband, and attained what the philosopher calls an "irreproachable
moral freedom." Comte, who had previously formed a marriage of
convenience, the object of which was to rescue him from immediate
want, and having now, not very generously, when his circumstances
made him independent, also got rid of his wife, is circulating
through the community in the like "irreproachable moral freedom,"
when he encounters Madame de Vaux.  Disengaged as each is, and
attracted by "the sad conformity of their domestic relations," the
philosopher and the sentimentalist find that the one is the complement of the other, and that the two, by the necessities of nature,
form but one.  They unite, enter together into "a holy home,"
maintaining what he calls an objective union, until, by an interchange of elements, he learns love and she positivism; he becomes
sentimental and she strong-minded. After this union of a year she
dies, or rather, to speak the language of positivism, passes to "her
glorious subjective eternity" from "her sad objective existence."
Now, all this would be as irrelevant here as it appears at first sight
inconsistent with so grave a topic, were it not that Comte makes
these relations the basis of the theology of positivism as much as
were the relations of Jupiter, of Juno, and of Venus, made the basis
of the mythology which directed the foundation of ancient Rome.
The future IEneas of positivism, who seeks to colonize it on an inhospitable shore, will have to rely on the softening influence of this
high priestess of love to modify the sterner influences and principles
~ 220
305
L-
26* 
POSITIVE RELIGION:
fined; reverence for the sublime; affection for the lovely,these he discovered to be conservative as well as recuperative elements which it was desirable to organize and culti vate.   There must be an ecclesiasticism erected to form the
trellis to train up one class of sentiments; there is to be a
system of family sacraments in like manner to train another
class. This training, it is true, was not to be for heaven,
but for eartth.  The plants which it is to cultivate are to
be serial, not perennial; they are to bloom for this life
alone, and then to be forever buried in the grave. But it is
no small tribute to the importance of religion, and to the
universal craving of man for an object of worship, that the
chief apostle of modern atheism should find it necessary to
his system to create an imitation god in order to supply this
craving and satisfy these orphaned affections. Women who
have become deranged from the loss of their offspring, we
have been lately told, have found solace, under the skillful
management of the psychological physician, in infants belonging to others which have been placed in their arms. In
this we have proof of a mother's love, and of her sense of
loss of the thing loved.   The great reconstructer of society
in our own time has borne witness to analogous truths in his
attempts to substitute  a sham  for  a real divinity.   He
which, before that time, controlled the great Chief Priest of humanity.  Comte himself confesses this in one of his addresses to his
disciples.  "I have just completed," he says, "the principal part of
my religious structure, and the decisive little work in which the subjective p?articqvation of ny holy, eternal conipaneion is alreaday znanimozesly
recognized. *  *  *  It' iA for this rea,son that   shaIll alwuays repudiate
the st?p)id mateeiaol                            9?cr?.n'f.f/,oh l,  d~?[ i..,.  of a e?'Y ~
slirituol assisAt.I.e."
~ 220
306 
IN  HIIAT IT CONSISTS.
has thus attested not only man's craving for, but his orphanage from God.
The new faith, which is to form the theology of positivism,
and which is set forth in the catechism before us, involves
the denial of the existence both of God and of the human
soul. In order, however, to develop the qualities of reverence and subordination to the Infinite and Absolutequalities which Comte now discovers to be important to the
healthy growth of the race-certain fictions are to be presented to the inquirer, not as real food, but as corals with
which to promote philosophical dentition. The articles in
this creed are somewhat as follows:  A "Great Spirit," which is the aggregate of all humanity,
being an absorption of "the continuous succession of generations."  Each "true servant of humanity" (of the fate
of others not falling under the bounds of positive fidelity
we are not informed) "has two forms of existence."  The
first of these is that of conscious individuality, which is
what precedes death. The second begins after death, and
is a state of entire unconsciousness.  The soul survives only
in the "heart and intellect of others."   It is no longer,
however, an "entity" as to itself, but is only a memory retained by society.  It is a shadow without a substance.   It
forms, however, in connection with its associates, the
"Great Spirit," which is the aggregation of the memories
of the great dead as marshaled in the perceptions of the
living.  It is here that we are to find at once the object of
supreme worship and the motive for an earnest probation.
But in what way is this worship to be conducted and this
probation to he mode availao!le?  The answer is given with
II
~ 2' —) 0
307
.kl 
POSITIVE RITUALISM:
a detailed and inexorable precision, which leaves to the dis ciple of positivism not even ritual discretion. There are to
be two forms of worship, the public and the private. Of
these, the latter is the chief, and is to be "addressed to wo men;" the former the subordinate, and is to be addressed
"to humanity."  "The affective sex"-for it is in this light,
and not that of strong-mindedness, that woman is placed in
order to become the object of positivist worship-" is naturally the most perfect representation of humanity, and at
the same time her principal minister." "The mother, the
wife, the daughter, must in our worship * * * develop
in us respectively-the mother, veneration; the wife, attachment; the daughter, kindness."  Women are to reciprocate
this worship by adding to it that of their husbands and
sons.
~ 221. Among the ordinances thus established, were nine
social sacraments.   These are:  "Presentation," an equivalent to baptism.
"Initiation," commemorating the passage of the child
from his mother's hands to those of the "priesthood," in
whom is vested the charge over public education.
"Admission," by which the disciple "is authorized to
serve humanity," though as to what this means we have no
further information.
"Destination," which is fixed at the age of twenty-eight,
until which period the particular line of duty of the candidate is to remain undetermined, a system which we apprehend would not be very acceptable among our American
pioneers.
308
~ 221
k- 
ITS SACRAMENTS.
" AIarriage," which men cannot enter into until they are
twenty-eight, nor women until they are twenty-one.
"MAaturity," which is to indicate and solemnize the arrival
of a full intellectual and physical development, and which
is fixed at forty-two.
" Retirement," which is placed at sixty-three, when the
pupil, for such he always remains, being but an automaton
member of this vast and remorseless social mechanism, is to
go into a seclusion similar to that of the monastery, surrendering his property, except what is enough for his mere
personal wants.
"Transformation," which is a substitute for the Romish
extreme unction, in which the positivist "Priesthood mingles
the regrets of society with the tears of the family of the deceased, and shows that it has a just appreciation of the life
that is ended. It first secures, when possible, compensation
for errors committed, and then it generally holds out the
hope of subjective incorporation."
"Incorporation," which represents the Romish canonization, and which takes place seven years after death, when "a
solemn judgment, an idea," (not a reality, for immortality is
a mere fiction,) "which, in its germ, sociocracy borrows
from theocracy, finally decides the lot of each."
In the positivist ritual, everything in the shape of the old
calendar is to be uprooted, with the exception of the days
of the week, whose names are to be retained rather as indicating the servitude of the past than of conciliating its prejuclices. There are to be thirteen monthly festivals, each of
which commemorates either the supreme humanity itself, or
some of its component items, including "women, or the
~ 221
309
E — 
POSITIVE CEREMONIAL
moral Providence of the race;" "the conjugal union,"
which is to be personified as a sub-god; and the "collective
dead," or at least such of them as have been incorporated in
the essence of humanity.   Not only are the services of the
monthly festivals thus prescribed, but in those of each week
the topics of contemplation and adoration are arbitrarily
and finally determined. And even as to the gestures to be
used in repeating the formulas of faith, there is to be no
discretion. When this is done, the worshiper is to "place
the hands in succession on the three chief organs-those of
love, order, and progress."
So with regard to ecclesiastical architecture and symbolism.   Modern philosophy will never be able to taunt
Christian ecclesiasticism with finicalness, when the directory
of the great founder of positivism is kept in view. Entertaining no doubt that the Romish Church would gradually
pass into his school, Comte, in condescension to the inconvenience which would arise from erecting a large number of
new temples after his peculiar plan, agreed that the " old
churches, in proportion as they fall into disuse," should be
accepted and employed by the positivist priesthood. This,
however, ought not to be long.  The earliest practical time
should be chosen to erect new temples, concerning which
certain positive directions were laid down. They must
"orientate," if a term may be borrowed from modern ecclesiology, toward Paris, which is the metropolis of humanity,
and which, therefore, as humanity with the positivist is
God, is the heaven toward which the worshiper should turn.
A "sacred wood" is to surround the temples, and in each
there is to be placed, as "the symbol of our goddess," "a
1l
310
~ 221
L 
AND PRIESTHOOD.
woman of thirty, with her son in her arms."  Even  the
trappings of the religious processions are regulated. Banners are to be carried, on the "white sides of which" "will
be the holy image;" "on their green, the sacred formula of
positivism. "
The positivist priesthood is endowed with power greater
than even Hildebrand claimed for the pontifical hierarchy.
The priests, of whom for the western world there are to be
twenty thousand, are, each in his special sphere, though in
subordination to the central high priest, to control the
education, to administer the sacraments, and to promulgate
the ethics, by which the minds of their particular parishioners are to be influenced and their conduct controlled.   The
priests are to have the government of the public treasury,
disbursing it as they think fit. Marriage with the priest is
obligatory, though like all other positivists, he cannot
marry before twenty-eight, and then only once. The ultimate control of this enormous and absolute sacerdotalism
is a high priest, whose see is to be Paris.
But while this vast authority is thus vested in the positivist
hierarchy, the founder of the system did not let it pass from
his hands until he had prescribed what course was to be
taken in respect to every contingency that fell within his
contemplation. Even the method of study was regulated
by a standard which was to be universally applied to the
dull as well as to the brilliant, to the poet as well as the
philosopher.   The boy, after receiving the sacrament of
initiation, is to go to the "school adjoining the Temple of
Humanity, there to hear from the priesthood perhaps one or
two lectures on the doctrine of positivism."  HIe is then to
~ 221
311 
POSITIVE RELIGION:
undergo a novitiate of seven years, each of which is to
have its specific topic, following, it seems, from "geometry
up to morals," "the objective ascent which it took humanity
so many centuries to accomplish." And then with one of
those arbitrary dicta which more than anything else show
at once the sublime self-reliance and the profound psychological ignorance which marked the founder of positivism, we
have it announced, "during this scientific preparation the
learner will be monotheistic"-in adolescence pantheistic, in
maturity atheistic.  Never did Philip II. with the Moriscoes,
or Louis XIV. with the Huguenots, ever attempt so arbitrary
a decree.  The disciple is not to become a believer;  he
is one. The initiation of an unconscious infant into the
positive Church is to work upon him effects which the
most extreme Christian sacramentarian never ascribed to
baptism.   The infant is declared not merely to be hypothetically and ecclesiastically a believer of the views which
positivism prescribes for him, but to be so actually and
potentially. He is not expected to be converted to them;
the supreme and infallible authority pronounces him to hold
them without the choice of conversion. If he do not, he
is either in an abnormal condition, requiring medical treatment, or in a state of moral treason, requiring penal discipline.
b'. Their inadequacy.
a3. In destroying human liberty.
~ 222. No diversity of tastes or talents is permitted.
Watt would not begin the study of mechanics until his
eighteenth year, and must leave it finally six months after
312
~ 222 
ITS DESPOTISM.
for poetry; Shakspeare, after six months at poetry, must be
for six years absorbed in the exact sciences.
Nor could there be belief, as there could be no faith.
The positivist creed is not propounded to be studied and
accepted; it is declared to be a part of the constitution of
all men, as to which there can be no inquiry.* In the
sciences, as well as in trade, there will be no competition,
and hence no progress.   AIen will move forward, not in the
eager race of a free rivalry, but as shackled slaves, with
down-cast faces and sluggish limbs, each treading to the
same beat.  No explorer would press ahead of his fellows
to the centre of the Arctic ice; no adventurer push singly
forward among untrodden wastes or barbarous realms; no
mechanic concentrate the life-energies of an acute and
sagacious intellect to the consideration of a single point,
which, however minute, might be necessary to the perfection
of some great and essential improvement.
~ 223. b'  TLey substitute for a faith which, if false, is
believed to be real, one which, if real, is believed to befalse.
It substitutes, in other words, for a believed truth, a confessed sham. What effect can playing at church have when
all know the thing is but play, unless to impress the earnest
with a mocking and indignant contempt, and the light with
a withering skepticism? What can produce a more profound sense of unreality than the consciousness that we are
worshiping a Deity who is nothing but our own memory of
the dead; who is avowedly a mere doll-providence, made
and dressed for us by the priest, and handed to us to be
7' See here Sir W. Hanmilton's remarks, quoted anrte, i 216.
27
~ 223
313
_L 
POSITIVE RELIGION:
pressed to the breast and nursed, in order to satisfy the
agonizing craving for the Infinitely Lovely and Great, for
which the bereaved soul pants with such tremendous reality?
What can so sicken and crush the heart, way-sore and sighing for a peace to come in an eternal home where there will
be no more worldliness, to be turned to gaze, not at the
calm heights and sanctified hosts of Jerusalem the sacred,
but to the labyrinths and intrigues of Paris the vain?
c3. They dwarf the human by degrading the divine.
~ 224. The prisoner, cramped for years in a cell where his
arms cannot be raised or his frame stretched, finds his muscles shrunk and his stature lessened. The soul expands or
contracts with the object of its worship. Let that object
be declared perfect, immutable, omnipotent, and the soul
rises upward to it by an infinitude of steps. As it ascends,
and finds the infinitude before it undiminished by the infinitude it has passed, it becomes humbler as it becomes greater,
more reverent and loving as it becomes more sublime. But
the positivist's divinity claims no such infinite and soulelevating attributes.  It is not a reality, but a memory.   It
is but a blurred and faded picture of a procession of such of
our fellow-mortals as the priesthood permits to be commemorated.
d3. They establish an absolute hierarchy, of all forms
of government the most injurious.
~ 225. Nothing, we may now be well permitted to assume, is so open to corruption, is so likely to reach and
embitter even the most secret fountains of human happiness,
and to trample on the conscience as well as the body, as a
priesthood invested with unchecked powers. That such
314
~ 224-225 
BUCKLERS MODIFICATION.
powers, beyond any precedent, are vested in the positivist
hierarchy, will be seen on noticing the following points:
They have an arbitrary control over the treasury.
They are the sole expounders of a law which claims to
reach all points of conduct, and which pretends, not
merely to be a statute, to be obeyed when announced,
but to be a part of each man's internal constitution,
obedience to which, announced or unannounced, is to
be exacted under the severest penalties.
They create, by consecrating the dead, at once the God
to be worshiped, and the heaven to be sought.
They are the sole educators of the people, and the
supreme task-masters who are to determine at what,
where, and how each man is to work.
d. POSITIVISM. AS MODIFIED BY MR. BUCKLE.
~ 226. Mr. Buckle, so far as we can draw his views as a
system from the very remarkable volume which is now the
only avowed product of his pen,* accepts  and teaches
Comte's theory of positive law with the following modifications:
Comte, at least in his late writings, insists that ecclesiastical authority and a derivative creed, are essential to complete social development.   Mr. Buckle considers the first
always mischievous, and declares that no religion is of value
that is not the spontaneous product of the believer's intel
i History of Civilization in England.  By Henry Thomas Buckle.
Vol. i. From the second London edition. New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1858.
~ 226
315
L 
POSITIVISM:
lect.  The former makes the sanction of religion external
and prescriptive; the latter makes it subjective and voluntary. Each is strongly tinged by his national ties-the first
admiring France and Roman Catholicism, the latter England and Protestantism, as the better types of political and
ecclesiastical development.   Each rejects a divine revelation,
but they differ in their proposed substitute-the one providing a creed to be announced by an absolute hierarchy, the
latter a sentiment to be evolved by the believer himself.
Comte recognizes a variety of agencies by which antecedents are connected with sequences; Mr. Buckle but one,
intellect; though in this respect, as will presently be seen,
his incidental teaching differs widely from his direct.
Comte's basis for induction includes almost every branch
of human knowledge, except metaphysics and psychology,
which he rejects; Mr. Buckle avowedly, at least, confines
himself to statistics.
Mr. Buckle's argument, when analyzed, falls into the following positions:  The actions of men are produced, not by their volitions,
but by their antecedents.
These antecedents, which in this sense may be treated as
law, are to be collected from statistics.
The philosophical office of history, therefore, is to classify
these statistics so as to be able to announce these laws.
These points may be considered in the above order, taking
first that which treats human action as dependent, not on
volition, but on antecedents.
Niow here we must not confound Mr. Buckle's position
with that of the necessitarians, in the controversy just
316
~ 226 
BUCKLE'S MODIFICATION.
noticed.* The last-mentioned thinkers consider the necessity acting on man to be moral, not material. The forces
that bear on him, they hold to be very different from
those which bear on matter. To man there always remains choice.  He yields, often, it is true, as an inferior to
his superior's influence, but always voluntarily.   On the
other hand, Mr. Buckle makes mind the subject of law in
the same sense as is matter.   Freedom of will he utterly
and vehemently rejects. The position that consciousness
proves this freedom, he meets by denying the competency of
consciousness to speak on the subject at all. He admits,
it is true, that consciousness thus speaks, but he declares
that consciousness is not trustworthy. But is not this
objection untenable from its very generality, in the same
way that a similar objection to a witness in a common law
court would at once be overruled by the judge on the ground
that it indicates no specific disability?  "I object to consciousness as a witness," says Mr. Buckle, "because it is
liable to err." But as this is an objection to all testimony,
it is an objection to no testimony.   The unimpeached testimony of concurrent consciousness can no more be rejected
on this ground than can the unimpeached testimony of concurrent by-standers, on the ground of a similar liability to
error.
Again, the fallacy of this position may be demonstrated
through its consequences. If law acts on mind as on matter, why is the man who shoots another with a gun any more
culpable than the gun itself? The Duke of Wellington
* See ante, ~ 114.
27*
~ 2 2 (,,'
317 
BUCKLE'S SCIIEME:
once told a story, as illustrating the distinction between
moral and physical courage, of a soldier who was trembling
on the battle-field.  "You are afraid," said one of his com rades.  "If you were half as much so," was the reply,
"you would long since have run away."  The more wary of
the positivist philosophers, as they stand trembling over
this very danger, might well apply the same remark to the
dashing young volunteer who prances so gaily up to a mine
so fatal. Did he know as much, he would be as timid as
themselves in attempting to reconcile morality with posi tivism. But he does not, and he achieves the result by throwing morality overboard altogether.   It is of no account,
he substantially tells us; it is only a superannuated agency,
incapable of moving itself, and therefore of moving others.
MIankind in the aggregate, he announces, are not in the least
affected by moral principles; why then trouble ourselves
about them?  Morals are stationary; and hence, like a fort
which when once passed by an invading fleet, only wastes its
powder by firing its guns; morality may be permitted to discharge the slow thunder of its oracles without exciting more
than the smiles of that philosophy which has passed out of
its reach. -lttellect is now the only motive power of the
human race; morals have long since been laid on one side.
~ 227. Now in one sense, Mr. Buckle is right in his position, though it is a sense fatal to his whole theory.  Morals,
it is true, are stationary; but they are stationary in the same
way as the water-tanks which are placed along a railway.
They are, it is true, permanent, and are supplied by one and
the same element.  They nevertheless are essential to the
motive energy of the train.  Intellect is in this sense the
.18
a
~ 227 
"  MORALS STATIONARY.              1
mere conduit of morals.  It resorts to them for a force, and
at its best serves merely as the agent, or acts as the conductor, by which that force is applied. Hence it is that the
fact that morals are "stationary," is no reason why they do
not influence mankind.  For they are the eternal and immutable principles of right and wrong, applying themselves to
each juncture with specific and appropriate energy, pronouncing their decision on each new combination of circumstances in the same way that the common law, while its
dogmas remain the same, gives its impulse to, and pronounces
its judgment on, each contingency that arises.  Thus the
common law, from its stationary base, supplies the energies
by which at one time the watchfulness of the sailor is
sharpened, at another the skill of the ship-builder refined,
at another the zeal of the mechanic stimulated.   It says to
the capitalist, "You I hold responsible for your employees'
negligence;;" to the machinist, "you for your machine's
defects."   So it is with morals.   While stationary, they
pronounce firom time to time decrees on each issue that
arises in the educationary advance  of our race.   Thus
toleration of the opinions of others is an eternal principle
of morals, and is written in the New Testament; and yet its
application to the successive stages of human history has
been from time to time delayed, until those stages require its
action. First, it is limited to mere oral divergencies, guaranteeing, in all matters not touching the peace of civil
society, freedom of speech.  Then, as the printing-press is
introduced, it imposes on the printer a range of duties
specially belonging to his office, and it imposes on governmient another range.  So it is with the precept to love onr
~ 227
319
-!L 
BUCKLE'S SCHIEME:
neighbor as ourselves, which develops a series of progressive duties as our relations expand; giving us one class of
obligations to the family, and others to each near social or
political interest that may from time to time spring up; e.g.
children over-worked in factories, the outcasts of a large
city, the victims of pestilence or oppression in a foreign
land. Then again these duties are pushed on, as obstacles
arising from ignorance cease to exist, giving us, for instance,
the successive ameliorations of the penal code, arising
froml the removal of the once prevalent conviction of the
political necessity of severe punishments.   So with regard
to imprisonment for debt.*
Now in eases such as these, the fact that "morality is
stationary," does not diminish either the energy of its motive
power, or the precision with which it decides each issue
that successively advances.   So  it is with the doctrinal
truths of the New Testament.   They are absolute and immutable.   They cannot "develop."  They act on the human
character, however, with a power wonderfully expansive and
adaptative.   They may be listened to a thousand times
without making any impression. Then often suddenly and
without any assignable cause, they become illuminated with
an awful and alarming meaning. The soul is agitated to its
centre by this strange phenomenon,-truths at once stationary and yet so inexorably aggressive. Then comes conviction, and then, in God's pleasure, conversion.   But the
process does not stop here.   The work of sanctification is
progressive.   The Christian discovers new beauties each
* See ate,, 100.
320
~ 227
k 
" RELIGION STATIONARY. "
dlay in those stationary truths.*  Perhaps his last breath
may testify that even his dying hour revealed in them a new
depth and fullness. For the oracles of God, immutable and
perfect as they be, speak not in one complete burst of symphony, at a single swell possessing and entrancing the soul
with their entire melody, but in a series of notes, unequal,
* Dean Trench illustrates this point very beautifully in his " Hulsean Lecture on the Development of Scripture." Take the following
extract:-"Truth, once given, has only gradually revealed itself;
how the history of the Church, the difficulties, the trials, the struggles, the temptations in which it has been involved, have interpreted
it to its own records, brought out their latent significance, and caused
it to discover all which in them it had; how there was much written
for it there as in sympathetic ink, invisible for a season, yet ready
to flash out in lines and characters of light, whenever the appointed
day and hour had arrived. So that in this way the Scripture has
been to the Church as their garments to the children of Israel, which,
during all the years of their pilgrimage in the desert, waxed not old,
yea, according to rabbinical tradition, kept pace and measure with
their bodies, growing with their growth, fitting the man as they had
fitted the child, and this, until the forty years of their sojourn in the
wilderness had expired. Or, to use another comparison which may
help to illustrate our meaning: Holy Scripture thus progressively
unfolding what it contains, might be likened fitly to some magnificent
landscape on which the sun is gradually rising, and ever as it rises
is bringing out one headland into light and prominence, and then
another; anon kindling the glory-smitten summit of some far mountain, and presently lighting up the recesses of some near valley
which had hitherto abided in gloom, and so traveling on till nothing
remains in shadow, no nook nor corner hid from the light and
heat of it, but the whole prospect stands out in the clearness and
splendor of the brightest noon."
~ 227
321 
BUCKLERS SCHEME:
sometimes almost inarticulate, often not interpreted till long
after, not till perhaps some great sorrow or trial required
their aid. In this view, morality, as well as religion, may
be likened to an engine stationed at a mountain-top to draw
up a train from below. Progress is through it, to it. The
traveler in the valley at first sees it not, as he finds himself
gliding upward on the inclined plane. Gradually, however,
as he approaches, and as trees and rocks are passed, the
motive power grows into view. So it is with stationary truths
of religion and ethics. They draw us to themselves, and as
they draw, they unfold, not because they come nearer to us,
but because we get nearer to them.
~ 228. The second position on which Mr. Buckle relies
is, that general laws governing human volition are to be
discovered from statistical observation.
This may be illustrated as follows:-In a particular city
there were twenty burglaries year before last; there were
twenty-one last year; there will be twenty-two the next.
If a man, therefore, is brought up charged with this crime,
we ought to say to him, "My friend, I am sorry that the lot
happened to fall on you, though as it was necessary it should
fall on some one in order to make up our requisite number
of burglars, you are not to blame yourself."
Now it is enough for the present, to notice one fatal flaw
in this theory of the power of statistics to resolve the contingencies of the future. It rests upon what is popularly
called the doctrine of chances; and it assumes that as such
a crime must necessarily occur, the event overrules, when it
does occur, the free will of the agent. Now it will require
but a moment's glance to show the absurdity of this. One
322
~ 228 
POWER OF " CHANCE.,
hundred balls are placed in a bag. One is white, the others
black. Now when the bag is shaken so that a particular ball
drops out, the result is not chance, but the peculiar combination of forces on the ball that drops.   If the balls be
replaced in exactly the same position, and the bag be shaken
exactly in the same way, then precisely the same ball will
be thrown out again.  There is no "chance" at all that any
given ball, unacted on by such special impulses, will be
thrown out once in a given number of times.   So there is
no "chance" that one out of a given number of innocent
men will commit the above-mentioned burglary. The one
who commits it will be he who is guided to the act by the
forces of his own will.
Take also the position that each burglary that is committed diminishes the probability of a second, there being a
less number thus required to make up the requisite average.
Now it is true, that if out of the bag we take ten of the
black balls, the "chances" against the white are now eightynine to one, instead of, as before, ninety-uine to one. When
the whole of the ninety-nine black balls are taken out, then
we may be sure that the white ball will come next. But if
we keep the proportions of the balls the same, by returning
to the bag those drawn out, then we may draw black balls
forever, without increasing the probability of drawing the
white. So when the number of white balls is indefinite,
then no calculation can be made at all. Yet it is on such a
calculation that iMr. Buckle rests when he makes the conduct of one individual to be governed b;y the question,
whether or no by the conduct of others the requisite annual
:   a,  -.!..
e4 -* * * I 
~ 228
323
E — 
BUCKLERS SCHIIEME':
quota of crime has been contributed by the community at
large.
MAr. Buckle's last point is drawn from the two former,
and is that which more particularly concerns his credit as a
historian.  The philosophical office of history, he holds, is
so to classify the objective phenomena which make up
human conduct as to be able to exhibit the laws by which
moral agency is governed. No history is trustworthy which
introduces other factors than this into its calculation.
Now I may remark that this destroys Mr. Buckle's own
sources of information.   All prior historians, he tells us,
are in error, because they mixed up volition with phenoveZea.  And yet, as Mr. Buckle's very copious notes abundantly show, it is from these prior historians that he derives
almost his whole material.  But, after all, phenomena-in
other words, what a man does-form a very imperfect
index to human character. Let us take that period, for
instance, in Louis Napoleon's life, in which he landed at
Boulogne, with a small squad of amateur soldiers and a
tame eagle, which was to light upon the banner of the
expectant emperor in such a way as to excite the superstition and awaken the enthusiasm of the French. Suppose
death had followed this adventure, would not the phenomenal historian pronounce this most reticent, subtle, and
profound of statesmen, to be a weak and babbling charlatan?
One of the results of this erroneous and low method of
generalization has been already noticed.*   It substitutes
the memoranda of passengers, as to the time of arriving of
* See ante, ~ 213.
-: 
~ 228
324 
BLUNDERS IN FACT.
particular trains, for the time-table issued by the supreme
hand that directs the motive power. The former are framed
from loose notes drawn by memory from data which an accident or detention would overthrow; the latter controls the
results rather than is controlled by them, and approaches to
perfection as the authority that promulgates it approaches
constancy and omnipotence.   Now Mr. Buckle, in making up
his philosophy, not only confines himself to the merely observational sources of information, but among these he rejects all that are psychological, or are based on personal
experience, and takes merely those that arise from outside
human calculation. How unreliable his conclusions become,
we can judge by taking a proposition which he exhibits
with the greatest complacency, as forming one of the most
important of the discoveries of the new philosophy: "The
number of marriages annually contracted," he tells us, "is
determined, not by the tem)per and wishes of individuals, but
by large general facts, over which individuals can exercise
no authority.        *   Instead of having any connection
with personal feelings, they are simply regulated by the
average earnings of the great mass of the people: so that
this immense social and religious institution is not only
swayed, but is completely controlled, by the price of food
and by the rate of wages."*  Here he leaves out, (1) Divine appointment, and (2) human inclination; the latter
involving the most potent of passions- affection, love,
sexual instinct, desire for home, and hope of offspring.
The specific blunders of Mr. Buckle on questions of fact,
* Buckle's Hist. of Civ., vol. i. p. 23; Appleton's ed.
28
325
~ 228 
BUCKLERS POSITIVISM:
are almost numberless.   Ordinarily speaking, such errors
might be passed by with but a slight notice. With him,
however, mistakes of "statistics" become perversions of
principle.  He relies for his laws on his facts.  How careless he is in collecting the latter, will be seen from the following instances:  a'. "All the great sculptors come from Spain and Italy."*
Now except Canova, no great sculptors came from Italy,
and Spain is destitute of this kind of genius.  Thorwaldsen,
Chantrey, Crawford, Powers, Danneker, are of northern
blood.
bl. The French Calvinistic ministers "were insignificant
priests." Mr. Buckle can find no one of them entitled to
historical notice. So, however, do not think the historians
of France. Among these "priests" we find some of the
most potent intellects of the age, e.g. Daniel Chamier, whose
discussion with Father Cotton, before HIenry IV., is still a
master-piece of controversial skill; and Samuel Bochlart, of
whom Bayle (good authority with Mr. Buckle) says:  " ie
was one of the most learned men in the world. But his
knowledge, vast as it was, was not his principal quality; he
had a modesty infinitely more estimable than all his science.
So he enjoyed his glory in complete tranquillity." With
these rank Pierre Dumoulin, Andrew Rivet, David Blondel,
Drelincourt, Daille, P. du Bosc, Ancillon, and Claude, and in
later days Yinet, Monod, and D'Aubigne. With equal narrowness of information, Mr. Buckle excludes from the lead
* This is used as a main support of a law of climate.
326
~ 228
WIL 
BLUNDERS IN FACT.
ing minds of Scotland, in the present century, Chalmers,
Reid, and Campbell.
cl. Sir Thomas Brown began, according to MIr. Buckle, who
finds in this another "law," a believer in witches and "developed" into a disbeliever.  In point of fact, the truth is
just the reverse.
di. Owen is ranked with "Chillingworth and Hales," and
"Hobbes and Glanville," as enforcing the same contempt for
tradition, and the same resolution to scorn the Hligh-Church
yoke. This is a most remarkable jumble. Owen was an
intolerant Calvinist; Hales the loosest of Armenians.  Hales
was promoted by Laud; Owen ejected by Laud's successors.
In one thing, however, they would unite, and that is an indignant surprise at being placed in the same category with
"Hobbes and Glanville."
e'. This century is declared to have presented nothing in
"the English tongue, in any department of theological scholarship, which is of value, and makes a mark on the age."
For this, Theodore Parker is cited, as the "high authority;"
thus disposing of Chalmers, Coleridge, Campbell, Whately,
AicCosh, Buchanan, Trench, Arnold, Stuart, Hodge, and
Dwight. Then comes a dashing assertion as to the general
increase of skepticism, for which assertion, so far as concerns
the United States, we have the single authority of "Combe's
Notes on the United States."*
f. "The historical value of the writings of Moses is abandoned by all enlightened men, even among the clergy themselves."  To support this absurdly erroneous assertion, we
* As to the incorrectness of this, see ante, ~ 206, 209, 210.
~ 228
327 
BUCKLE'S POSITIVISM:
are pointed to two cases: Dr. Arnold, who reconsidered the
whole question before the close of his life, and Mr. Baden
Powell, who, latitudinarian though he be, is an accredited
professor in Oxford, and has prepared for the Cyclopedia of
Dr. Kitto (himself irreproachably orthodox) a series of
papers for the purpose of accommodating the Mosaic record to the present condition of science.  That he has done
this with a sufficient regard to the plenary inspiration of the
text, is not pretended. And yet Mr. Powell, even in the
approach he makes to Mr. Buckle's views, is repudiated by
almost the entire Christian Church. It may be safely said
that among the many thousand clergy of orthodox creeds,
there will not be one who confesses an acquiescence in
MIr. Buckle's views.
g'. "That the system of morals propounded in the New
Testament contained no maxim which had not been previously
enunciated, and that some of the most beautiful passages in
the apostolic writings are quotations from Pagan authors, is
well known to every scholar. * * To assert that Christianity communicated to man moral truths previously unknown, argues, on the part of the asserter, either gross
ignorance or wilful fraud." Now here is a fair specimen of
Mr. Buckle's accuracy and temper. The only quotations in
the apostolic writings from "Pagani authors," are Acts xvii.
28, "For we are also his offspring;" 1 Cor. xv. 33, "Evil
communications corrupt good manners;" and Tit. i. 12,
"The Cretians are always liars."  Now each of these quotations was used by St. Paul as an argumenturn ad hom)inem,
for the purpose of showing that even his adversaries would
concede a preliminary point in his argument, and neither is
328
~ 228 
BLUNDERS IN FACT.
distinguished by any particular literary beauty. Mr. Buckle
may excuse his blunder in this respect by his want of biblical
knowledge, but this certainly will not excuse the temper with
which he denounces those who do not agree with him.
li. "Not only Necker, but also Rousseau, were born in Geneva, and drew their earliest ideas from that great nursery of
the Calvinistic theology." Necker, we are told, was "notoriously a rigid Calvinist," and so, we are to presume, was
Rousseau. Now the ideas which Necker drew from Geneva
were anything but rigidly Calvinistic; and Geneva, instead
of then being the "nursery" of Calvinism, was its grave.
Mr. Buckle is fond of quoting from D'Alembert, and cites
him profusely. Hiad D'Alembert been consulted on this occasion, MIr. Buckle would have learned, from no less accessible and obvious an article than that on Geneva in the French
Encyclop6die, that "all the religion that many of the ministers of Geneva have is a complete Socinianism, rejecting
everything called mystery, and supposing that the first principle of a true religion is to propose nothing to be received
as a matter of faith which strikes against reason." Necker
was born in 1732. The Encyclopedie was prepared in
1745-52, at the very time Necker was drawing his "earliest
ideas."   The "company of pastors," by whom vacancies in
the pastoral charges were filled, then avowedly made their
appointments from rationalists.  Voltaire tells us that in
Geneva, at this time, he did not know a single Calvinist.
Yet the "rigid Calvinism" of Geneva, at this time, is a
"fact" which is an essential item in the calculations by which
one of Mr. Buckle's most important laws is educed.
28*
~ 228
329 
FATALISMI:
CHAPTER III.
FATALISM.
~ 229. THIs topic, in its general bearings, is a natural
sequence of that just considered, as well as of those to be
presently noticed.   If we are controlled by a system of
positive law, general as well as specific, such as holds the
follower of Comte; if we are but constituent members in one
great aggregate total of cosmical life, without the capacity
of motion except in obedience to the common impulse, as
holds the pantheist; if we are the mere evolutions or scintillations of an organic growth, as hold the advocates of
physiological development, then we are the subjects of an
arbitrary code, natural or supernatural, which excludes the
agency of either special providence or individual will. It
is proposed, however, in the present chapter, to consider
fatalism as a distinct scheme of unbelief, separate from the
several theories in which it is involved. In this view, let us
notice,  a. TiE a priori PROBABILITY THAT THE SYSTEM WHICHI
AN ALL-WISE AND ALL-POWERFUL GOVERNOR WOULD ADOPT
FOR THE MORAL EDUCATION OF CREATURES UNDER PROBATION
WOULD BE A MIXED ONE OF GENERAL LAWS AND OF SPECIAL
ADAPTATIONS.
~ 230. Let us take in view the given factors of a wise
~ 229-230
330
.-. 
A PRIORI IMPROBABLE.
and Divine Ruler on the one hand, and of man, in his present
state, as a subject of probation, on  the other.   Let us
imagine ourselves about to lay down a system of government for a colony of creatures, constructed like ourselves, on
some distant planet. We see on the one hand, that it is
important to cultivate in them habits of fixed industry, of
patience, of energy, of social and domestic affection, of individual integrity. We see on the other hand, that it is
equally important to generate in them submission under
unexpected casualties,-hopefulness which a foreknowledge
on their part of disappointments to come would destroy,close dependence on and affection for the government that
provides for them, so that the graces of humanity and of
faith, might grow. How would we provide for this? The
answer is, by a system of general laws; e.g. those of the
seasons, which wheel round in their unvarying cycles, broken
by special adaptations, such as those which particular rains,
freshets, and tides, bring to bear on the husbandman's art.
Suppose that we had a system of general laws only, and
those foreannounced.  Not only the seasons, let us suppose,
move on in their recognized order, but every rain by which
a crop is to be washed away, every freshet by which a village is to be inundated, every season of peculiar benignity
and fruitfulness, every blight which would render labor useless, is known beforehand. Where would we find that hardy
industry which, in providing against the contingencies of
disaster, and facing its reality, does so much to the development of the courage, the endurance, the self-reliance, the
energy of our race? In those climates where we find the
uniformity of the seasons most marked, either by a cold and
230
331 
FATALISM:
rigid torpor, or by a regular and prodigal fructification, we
shall observe the greatest lethargy and the most entire subordination of the spiritual and intellectual to the animal.
But if in addition to this, misfortunes should move toward
us equally heralded in advance, would not the paralysis be
almost complete? Greatly indeed would present happiness
be abridged, and present energy cramped, and present sorrow intensified, if the future were known. Who, in looking
back at any of the great calamities which have struck him,let him take the sharpest and most stunning shock of his
life,-but will say, " had I known this, I never would have
prepared that home; I never would have opened its
door; I never would have entered at all on that train of
business; I never could have enjoyed, even for a moment,
sweet intercourse with that friend, had I seen the hearse
that stood outside." Yet it is to this discipline that the
heart owes its best training for immortality. If then, we
are, even with our limited capacity, planning a training
school for moral agents, conditioned as ourselves, would we
rest the government of that school on a system of arbitrary,
universal, all-penetrating, all-directing laws, and those laws
to be preannounced?
~ 231. On the other hand, let us suppose that a government should be established in which no general laws are laid
down, but in which each case is determined as it arises.
Take, for instance, the unexpectedness of the action of such
government, resulting in the inability of the subject to understand what measures to take to provide against the future.
As an illustration of this, notice the condition of Rome
332
~ 231 
A PRIORI IMPROBABLE.
under Tiberius, one scene in which is thus sketched by De
Quincey:  "At midnight an elderly gentleman suddenly sends round
a message to a select party of noblemen, rouses them out of
bed, and summons them instantly to his palace. Trembling
for their lives from the suddenness of the summons, and
from the unseasonable hour, and scarcely doubting that by
some anonymous delator they have been implicated as parties to a conspiracy, they hurry to the palace-are received
in portentous silence by the ushers and pages in attendance
-are conducted to a saloon, where (as in everywhere else)
the silence of night prevails, united with the silence of fear
and whispering expectation. All are seated, all look at
each other in ominous anxiety. Which is accuser? Which
the accused?  On whom shall their suspicion settle,-on
whom their pity?  All are silent-almost speechless-and
even the current of their thoughts is frost-bound by fear.
Suddenly the sound of a fiddle or a viol is caught from
a distance-it swells upon the ear-the steps approach-and
in another moment in rushes the elderly gentleman, grave
and gloomy as his audience, but capering about in a frenzy
of excitement. For half an hour he continues to perform
all possible evolutions of caprioles, pirouettes, and other
extravagant feats of activity, accompanying himself on the
fiddle; and, at length, not having once looked at his guests,
the elderly gentleman whirls out of the room in the same
transport of emotion with which he entered it; the panicstruck visitors are requested by a slave to consider themselves as dismissed: they retire; resume their couches:-the
nocturnal pageant has'dislimned' and vanished; and on
~ 231
333 
FATALISM:
the following morning, were it not for their concurring testimonies, all would be disposed to takle this interruption of
their sleep for one of its most fantastic dreams. The elderly
gentleman who figured in this delirious pas seul-who was
he? Hle was Tiberius Casar, king of kings, and lord of the
terraqueous globe."*
~ 232. Now what we would call for, a priori, to meet
both these difficulties, is a government with laws enough in
it to invoke energy and foresight, and with enough special
direction in it to produce watchfulness and a sense of dependence on its Divine Hlead.t
Let us see, then, how far we find this system of government-this combination of general laws with special providences-carried out in the moral discipline of man.  As to
this point, there is, I apprehend, no difficulty.  Upon the
distant and general horizon the machinery of general laws
moves like clock-work; e.g. the movements of the stars,
the waxing and waning of the moon, with its consequent
influence on the tides, the aggregate of rain falling in each
year. But as we approach man, we become conscious of an
atmosphere through whilch general laws cannot penetrate.
It would seem as if moral agency was thus coated with an
armor which defies the action of that inexorable code by
which all the physical universe is enthralled. The nearer
these general laws approach  man, the more are they re
* De Quincey's Caesars, p. 129.
t See this question ably discussed in Bishop Potter's Sermon on
the Immutability of Natural Laws; Phil. Lectures on Evidences,
p. 127.
334
~ 232 
A PRIORI IMPROBABLE.
fracted and repelled. We cannot tell when any particular
tide will rise to inundate the city docks, nor when a freshet
will lift the river over the levee, nor when a premature frost
will blight the crop. The closer we come to man, the more
does the absolute yield to the fortuitous; i.e. to the special as distinguished from the general direction of God.*
~ 233. It would seem, therefore, that the government of
the world is a mixed one of general laws and special adaptations.t The existence of the first element needs no proof.
Skepticism almost uniformly asserts it, and Christianity finds
no reason to meet it with a denial. The second proposition,
however, that of a special providence, is met by the naturalist with a fierce hostility, and by the nominal Christian with
practical unbelief. The following points may be noticed as
serving to prove its existence.
~ 234. a'. God's constancy and dignity.
If God cared enough for the world to create it, is it consistent with Hiis infinite goodness and grandeur to suppose
that when created He would desert it, and retire, like le bon
Dieu of the French drama, to listen from the stage-box of
an otiose and philosophic ease to the ceaseless wails of His
own creatures struggling in agony before Hiim-seeking in
their blindness the Infinite, and as they seek, falling, blinded
as they are by a supernal malignant power, gashed and
* See ante, e 89, 129; post, i 241.
t Observe in this the remarkable analogy with the distinction between the common law and equity systems. "~Equity," says Grotius,
"is the correction of that wherein the common law, by reason of its u?Ziversality, is defcient."
335
~ 233-234 
FATALISM:
wounded to the earth? "Can it be degrading for Him to
act on that, however insignificant, which it did not degrade
IHim to create."*
~ 235. b'. His fatherhood.
Heathen and Christian devotion unite in seeing in Him
not merely the God, but the Father. Can we, in conformity
with this conception, suppose Him to desert the home of
His watchful care and love? "We ask of a father regard,
in the first place, to the moral welfare of his children; we
ask a rule and regimen which will contribute to form character, to ennoble sentiment, to develop self-control, and nerve
with spiritual power. And we feel that this needs not only law,
but the administration of law; not only rules, but influences;
and not only these, too, but such changes, from time to time,
* Young's Mysteries of Good and Evil, p. 63.
"That which God has deigned to make, He will condescend to
care for; and that which He has made in all its minutest details, IHe
may, without derogation from His infinite majesty, continue to sustain and govern even in its least members and motions. The instance
chosen by our Lord is among the most light and impalpable of all
objects connected with the human frame.  Yet, under the glass of
the microscopic anatomist, the single hair presents wonders of structure and adaptation which no human hand can reproduce or imitate.
Indeed, the further down we go into the interior recesses of nature,
all invisible to the naked eye, the more amazing becomes the revelations of power, and skill, and goodness. So that the very antenne
of the fly that annoys our slumber, the dust of the downy fruit, and
the volatile pollen of the lily or the rose, awaken new adoration of
Him who is maximinus in minimis, greatest in that which seems least."
(Alexaizder's Discourses, p. 75; New York, 1858.)
336
~ 235 
HOW DISPROVED.
that those rules can adapt themselves to emergencies created
by the child himself in the use or in the abuse of his moral
liberty. "*
~ 236. cl. Man's universal sense.
Where is prayer unrecognized? And yet does not prayer
rest on the assumption, that Hle who is supplicated can answer? To the same effect speaks every temple, whatever
may be its rites, wherever its site, or whenever it may have
existed. These places of worship-from the cathedral to the
Sunday-school room, from the Parthenon to the mound on
which the Indian looks up to God, so universal that, whereever man is, there are they-attest the equal universality of
the belief in a special providence. And in this conviction
even the philosopher shares, whenever, as in every great
crisis in the affairs of men, philosophy fails.t
* Bishop Potter, Phil. Lectures on Evidences, p. 133.
"On this point let Dr. Franklin answer.  No one will accuse
him of superstition or of an undue regard of the supernatural. All
will admit, that few men ever surpassed him as a shrewd observer of
life and of human affairs, or as a profound inquirer after the causes
and principles that lie at the bottom of great events. And what was
his language in the Convention that sat in Philadelphia in 1787 to
frame our Federal Constitution. when he rose to support his motion
for daily prayers in that body?
"It must be remembered that weeks had elapsed without the Convention's having accomplished any part of its all-important work,
and that irreconcilable differences seemed likely to defeat its purposes altogether. It was under these circumstances that Dr. Franklin
introduced his resolution, and made the following remarks:-' In the
beginning of the contest with Britain,' said he,' whien we were sensible
29
337
~ 236 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE:
d1. The analogy of answer to prayer, which may be
taken as an extreme case of special providence, with, other
agencies by which, humanly speaking, the course of events
is altered.
~ 237. "I cannot believe," says the objector, "that the
course of the world can be altered by the prayer of a feeble
of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for the Divine protec tion. Our prayers, sir, were heard, and they were graciously an swered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have
observed frequent instances of a superintending Providence in our
favor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of
consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national
felicity. And have we now forgotten this powerful friend? or do
we imagine that we no longer need His assistance?  I have lived, sir,
a long time, (eighty-one years,) and the longer I live, the msnore convincing
proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the affairs of man.  And,
if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been
assured, sir, in the sacred writings, "that except the Lord build the
house, they labor in vain that build it."  I firmly believe this; and I
also believe, that without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in
this political building no better than the builders of Babel; we shall
be divided by our little partial local interests, our projects will be
confounded, and we ourselves shall become a reproach and a by-word
down to future ages. And, what is worse, mankind may hereafter,
from this unfortunate instance, despair of establishing government
by human wisdom, and leave it to chance, war, or conquest. I therefore beg leave to move that, henceforth, prayers, imploring the assistance of Heaven and its blessing on our deliberations, be held in this
assembly every morning before we proceed to business; and that one
or more of the clergy of this city be requested to officiate in that
service.'"  (Potter's Lectures on the Evidences, etc., p. 143.)
338
~ 237
it 
ITS PROBABILITY.
child, or an ignorant old woman."   No one is more rigid in
asserting the constancy of rational laws, in this respect, than
Mr. Hume, when teaching metaphysics, and yet no one is
more fertile in declaring the existence and effect of just such
agencies than Mir. iume, when writing history.  An ignorant
fisherman defeated the Spanish Armada by atrick.  Another
trick on the part of the Spanish Court led to the long subsequent introduction into the French  marriage treaty of
Charles I., of a clause which, by giving up the royal issue to
their mothers' care during their childhood, consigned them
to papacy and exile. The casual appearance at court of
George Villiers, led to an ascendency which reduced James I.
to vassalage, and brought Charles I. to the block.   The
unexpected presence of Mary in the chamber where Rizzio
was slain, left on her then unborn son a taint which followed
him through life, and which worked in him a degree of irresolution, if not cowardice, which degraded royalty in England, and sacrificed Protestantism in Bohemia. Such are
the threads which the subtle finger of the historian delights
to follow, when showing how the slightest influences may
apparently move the law that controls human affairs. But
if this be true, and if God be that supreme motive power,
all philosophical objections to the efficacy of prayer are
destroyed.
el. Hypotheses on which a special providence can be
explained.*
* See as to use of Hypothesis in Theol., 2 Chailm. Nat. Theol.,
Const. ed., 314.
~ 23-,
339 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE:
~ 238. a2. By the assumption of a law based on angelic
agency. *
It may be assumed that, as in conformity with the divine
scheme, creatures, lower in the scale of life than man, are
employed in ministering to him, so, in equal subordination
to God's law, creatures, higher than man may be so employed.
Putting aside the testimony of Scripture, the analogy of
nature leads us to suppose that as below man there is a descending scale reaching down to the atom, so above man
there is an ascending scale reaching forward to the absolute.
"We have no reason to suppose that the gradation is suddenly arrested just at the point where the animal and the
spiritual are combined."t  If so, in what office can such existences be better employed than in occupying toward the
Divine HIead, the same offices as the "fire and hail, snows
and vapors, wind and storm, fulfilling HIis word?" So thought
Milton:
"Hlis state is kingly,
Thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean, without rest."
If, however, these beings are thus employed, the analogy
may be extended by supposing that they are employed in
serving men. Archbishop Whately, the least sentimental of
philosophers, draws this inference from the fact, that "as relates to the things of this world, we know that it is the ap
* See these points enumerated in 2 Buch. on Faith, p. 176.
t Ibid., p. 185.
340
~ 238 
ITS PROBABILITY.
pointment of Providence that men should be dependent on
their fellow-men for various good offices, and, in many instances, for life itself. To minister to the distressed and
afflicted, and to perform various other acts of kindness to our
brethren, is among the duties most earnestly inculcated by our
Lord and his apostles."* Or, to take the same analogy,
as stated in the following lines, not the less impressive
from the exquisite delicacy of their diction:
"I have seen mourners by the sick one's pillow;
Theirs was the soft tone and the soundless tread, When smitten hearts were drooping like the willow,
They stood between the living and the dead.
"And if my sight, by earthly dimness hindered,
Beheld no hovering cherubim in air,
I doubted not-for spirits know their kindred,   They smiled upon the viewless watches there.
"There have been angels in the gloomy prison,
In crowded halls, by the lone widow's hearth,
And where they passed, the fallen have uprisen   The giddy paused,-the mourner's hope had birth."
There is no more reason why we should refuse to recognize
the services of angels, for fear of angel-worship, than we
should the services of the winds and storms, for fear of Fetichism. As created beings the members of neither are the
subjects of worship. t
t Whately's Good and Evil Angels, p. 26.
t The scriptural prohibition is also absolute. See the argument
forcibly stated in Wha-tely's Good and Evil Angels, pp. 16, 17.
On the subject of the special guardianship by angels much  more
29*
~ 238
341 
SPECIAL PROVIDENCE:
b2. By the pre-arrangement of the laws of nature, so
that in harmonoy with and subordination to themn, prayer
may be answered.
~ 239. Prayer becomes in this way a general causal power,
difficulty exists.   Mr. Alford, in his cumbrous though elaborate and
instructive commentary, has lately brought before the church, with
peculiar positiveness, the doctrine, that to each individual there is
assigned a specific guardian angel. This he mainly rests upon Matt.
xviii. 10, where our blessed Lord tells us, "Take heed that ye despise
not one of these little ones; for I say unto you that in heaven their
angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven."
And he goes so far as to intimate that we have ground to believe from
Acts xii. 15, (where the disciples speak of Peter's "angel,") that guardian angels sometimes appear in the likeness of the individual himself. So far is this theory carried by the Romanists, that authority
not devoid of respectability has been found to countenance the superstition, that on occasions of peculiar solemnity,  the guardian
angels may assume the bodies of those over whom they watch, and
give warning of some great impending calamity. Romish hagiology
is full of cases, where the bodies of saints appear to their own sleeping vision, or to that of others, to give notice of approaching death.
And the fathers, even the earliest and best of them, so far countenanced the doctrine as to occupy no small portion of their writings
with expositions of the way in which these substitutionary appearances occur.
,ir. Aliord is not the only Protestant writer who espouses the same
view. Dr. Chalmers, though only hypothetically, intimated, as is
stated in the text, that there might be angelic messengers employed
in the work of giving effect to prayer, though he refers rather to a
general influence of the whole angelic body, than to a specific guardianship.
AMr. Kingsley introduces to us angels, as engaged in conveying to
342
~ 239 
ITS PROBABILITY.
with its particular results foreordained. It receives an answer, because it is a part of the Divine pre-arranged polity
that it should. This, it may be said, is fatalism, but the
us all the minor happinesses with which life is blessed-a sort of
Kriss-Kringles or Brother Cheerybles of the skies.
And in Stiers's "Words of the Lord Jesus," the author declares
that not only is a guardian angel assigned to each child on its birth,
but that when grievedl away by sin, the angel is re-commissioned to
attend the sinner on his regeneration. How deeply this feeling is
wrought into the popular mind, Mlercy's dream in the Pilgrim's Progress, and Retsch's great picture of Satan playing chess with the
young man for his soul, may testify.
Now let us pass from the poetry of interpretation to its sense.
Calvin, whom, whatever we may think of his views on the great controversy which bears his name, we may agree with Hooker in holding
as the gravest and wisest of commentators whom the Church, down
to his own day, had known, when speaking of Matt. xviii. 10, says:
"The view taken by some of this passage, as if it ascribed to each
believer his own peculiar angel, is without support. For the words of
Christ do not import, that one angel is in perpetuity attached to this
person or that, and the notion is at variance with the whole teaching of
Scripture, which testifies that angels encamp round about the righteous,
and not to one angel alone, but to many has it been commanded, to
protect every one of the faithful." (See Fairbairn's HIlermeneutical
Manlarual, p. 222.) This is almost in the same language repeated by
Whitby, in a commentary, which, incorporated with those of Patrick
and Lowth, has received the peculiar recommendation of that section
of our Church to whom Calvin's distinctive views are the most dis tasteful.  "I think," says this acute critic, "that neither of these
opinions (those imputing guardian angels, first to children, and then
to the just,) hath any good foundation in the holy Scriptures; cer tain it is, that in this place Christ saith not their'angyel,' but their
~ 239
343
t 
ANSWER TO PRAYER:
same objection holds good to every action in which moral
agency is involved. If it be an objection to prayer that
there is no use in offering it, since its answer is already
'anyels' behold the face of God;  nor says He, that these angels
belong to all, but only to'these little ones;' nor that they always do
attend upon their persons, but that they'stand before the face of
God,' ready to receive His commands, either to help them in their
exigencies, or punish those who injure them; hence then it follows,
not that they have always an angel present with them, but only that
angels in general are' ministering spirits to them.'"
It is not necessary to add anything in the way of critical commentary to these remarks. We may be permitted, however, assuming as
we do with the great body of orthodox Anglican interpreters, that the
theory of guardian angels is not called for by the text, to show how
in two respects it is liable to perversion.
These are-Ist. The diminution of the mediatorial glory of Christ,
and of the work of the Holy Spirit; and, 2d. The danger of angelworship. In the Romish Church both of these consequences have
followed, and not illogically. For either the angels are involuntary
mechanisms, or they are not. If the former, they can have no tutelary functions. If the latter, and if specially assigned to individuals
as their spiritual companions and guides, it is impossible for the
yearning and sad heart of man, always craving comfort from above,
not to seek to enter into their converse. If this does not end in Romanism, it will lead to Spiritualism.
It should be observed, also, that "little ones" does not, as the sentimentalists of our day suppose, refer to children, but to the disciples
of our Lord; and secondly, "behold the face of my Father," etc.,
involves no intercessory power. It signifies, in oriental phrase, only
a supremacy in the court of heaven. "I am Gabriel," says that
angel, "who stands before God;" and this in a case where it was a
message alone that was delivered.  So the Queen of Sheba speaks of
Solomon's retinue:  "Blessed are thy servants who stand always
before thee."
344
~ 239 
HOW  EXPLICABLE.
secured by Divine ordination, it is equally an objection to
sowing grain or plowing a field, that the crop will come
without the effort. By this reasoning, petitions would be
prevented, not only to an earthly potentate, but to an earthly
friend. Nor does the multitudinous variety and human fluctuating weakness of prayer deprive it of the aid of the same
energy. "When men are the askers and men also are the
givers, He can, amid all the caprices of human appetite and
fancy, still uphold the regularities both of a moral and a natural economy."* Why not, then, in a system in which lHe
is GIVER as well as IIEARER?t
c'. By a.special connection between prayer and result
as between cause and effect.
~ 240. "The doctrine of the efficacy of prayer," says Dr.
Chalmers, "but introduces a new sequence to the notice of
the mind-whereas it seems to be quarreled with by philosophy, on the ground that it disturbs and distempers the
regularity of all sequences.   It may add another law of
nature to those which have been formerly observed-but this
surely may be done without invasion on the constancy of
nature. " Thus magnetism does not disturb the laws of
* 2 Chal. Nat. Theol., p. 329.
It may be said, in order to reach the charge of fatalism, that
foreknowledge is, in this sense, but back history, and that human
liberty and the contingency resulting from choice, are no more atfected by history written before this event than they would be by histor-y written afierwarcds.  In this view, while fatalism causes the event,
foreknowledge is caused by it; the fact exists, not because it is predetermined,-it is foreseen because it exists.  This point has already
been noticed. See ante, I 129-131.
~ 240
345
v -  
ANSWER TO PRAYER:
nature; it only opens them to let itself in as an independent,
but equally authorized and legitimate agency.
d(. By pushing up the principle which gover~is the re szlts of prayer, until it passes above the boundary by
wt7hich hu?2aiz observation is limited.
~ 241. That there is such a boundary, may be shown both
a priori and by induction.
A priori, what course would we suppose a Divine and allmerciful Father, having in view the shortness of human life,
would take, in order to enable that life to be most economically and judiciously employed so as to subserve the object
of probation?
We can answer this by inquiring what would be the policy
of a judicious colonial secretary in drawing up a system of
government for a colony about to settle in and improve a
distant, and, as yet, unoccupied territory. "You are going,"
he would say, "to prepare farms to benefit yourselves, as
well as to improve the soil. You are to get crops ready for
a market, as well as to accommodate, if not to prepare a market for the crops. For this purpose, I give you all the practical information you will really need. You have here a statement of the stock and staples best suited to your particular
climate, and of the kind of culture by which the soil may be
most effectually used. You have here a topographical survey of the district in which you are particularly placed. It
shows you how you can get your produce to the great river
which runs a few miles off, and from that river to the sea.
But it does not show you where that river finds its remotest
source, nor does it indicate what are the influences, terrestrial and sidereal, by which that ocean is moved. If you
346
~ 241
I 
HOW EXPLICABLE.
are surprised at this, I can give you a very good reason for
it. You are here for a practical purpose, and you have no
more than enough time than is necessary to enable that purpose to be achieved. You are therefore furnished with a
pocket-map and an emigrant's manual, both in small compass. Were I to undertake to give you a chart of the entire
universe, it would be too large to be carried, and if studied,
would leave no room for the duties of farming, to perform
which you are sent. Yours is a specific work,-the reclamation of a wasted land, and the restoration to yourselves,
whose infirmities, if not whose crimes, have made you the
subjects of penal law, of those habits of industry and energy
which form the most important safeguards to virtue and
purity."
~ 242. Analogous to this is the information man requires in his earthly probation.   "I do not care to know
about the causes of sin," said John Newton, "since I am
told how to escape from it."  We  are given, as it were, a
topographical  survey of the scene of our labors.  That
survey must end somewhere.   If infinite, the great body of
it would be not only useless for the immediate work we are
sent to perform, but would be cumbrous and distracting.
Even were it only to remind us what our specific duties
are, it must, so far at least as its details are concerned, have
its limits. There must be, therefore, if this analogy be correct, some line above which human observation cannot pass.
Below this line we may expect to find such knowledge as
is practical and pertinent to the discharge of our actual
duties; above it, such knowledge as is purely speculative,
and, for our present purposes, useless.
~ 242
347
L 
ANSWER TO PRAYER:
The inductive proof of this proposition is equally strong.
.lIaterial agencies are governed by open and universal laws;
moral enter upon the sea of life with sealed letters, the contents of which the subordinate only knows by the result.
The stars are moved by a mechanism whose long strokes
and revolutions we can see, as they approach, at a century's
distance; God Almighty moves human destiny by His own
finger, but conceals that finger behind an impenetrable cloud.
~ 243. Science itself bears witness to these truths with an
emphasis which increases as it searches more closely into the
nervous and psychical centres.  "If statistics are true, when
applied to size and quantity," says an eminent French physician, "they are no longer so, when relating to life and
strength."* And M. Brierre de Boismont, in his work on
Hallucinations,t declares that this presses on us the more
strongly as "we advance in the consideration of the nervous
system."  Even Carlyle says:  "The same uncertainty, in
estimating present things and men, holds more or less in all
times; for in all times, even in those which seem most trivial,
and open to research, humian society rests on inscrutably
deep foundations; which he is, of all others the mnost
mtistaken, who fancies he has explored to the bottomn.".
And Hegel, and this from a pantheistic stand-point, declares
that, here at least, in the springs of human action, is an element which nothing but a Divine cause can explain.
3 M. M\ax Simon, L'Opinion Reine du Mond; Union Modicale,
2 Aouft, 1851.
tPhil. ed., p.195.
$ Carlyle, Rev. on Voltaire, For. Quar. Rev., 1829.
348
~ 243 
MYSTERY ABOUT MAN.
When we go into an examination of the incidents which
make up individual history, the same principle is established.
Take, for instance, the remarkable fact, that so large and
undue a proportion of deaths occurs about daydawn.*
* A late writer in the Loudon Quarterly Review tells us, that out of
two thousand eight hundred and eighty deaths which occurred within
a given period, there was a division as to the hour too marked to be
the result of what might be considered chance. If the proportion of
deaths to hours were equal, one hundred and twenty deaths would
occur in each hour. This, however, was by no means the case.
"There were two hours in which the proportion was remarkably
below this; two minima, in fact-namely, from midnight to one
o'clock, when the deaths were eighty-three per cent. below. From
three to six o'clock in the morning, inclusive, and from three to
seven o'clock in the afternoon, there is a gradual increase in the
former of twenty-three and a half per cent. above the average, in
the latter of five and a half per cent. The maximum of deaths is
from five to six o'clock in the morning, when it is forty per cent.
above the average; the next during the hour before midnight, when
it is twenty-four per cent. in excess; a third hour of excess is that
from nine to ten o'clock in the morning, being eighteen and a half
per cent. above. From ten in the morning to three in the afternoon
the deaths are less numerous, being sixteen and a half per cent.
below the average, the hour before noon being the most fatal. From
three o'clock in the afternoon to nine the deaths rise to five and a
half per cent. above the average, thenfall, from that hour toelevenp.M.,
averaging six and a half per cent. below the mean. During the hours
from nine to eleven o'clock in the evening, there is a minimum of six
and a half per cent. below the average. Thus the least mortality
is during the mid-day hours-namely, from ten to three o'clock;
the greatest during early morning hours, from three to six o'clock.
30
~ 243
349
t 
ARBITRARY LAW:
~ 244. Now there may be a law on this point, so far as a
collection of results may be entitled to that name, but we
neither discover the principle on which the law is based, nor
the cases to which it applies.   So also with regard to the
causes of death.   Here is a topic to which science has
devoted its peculiar scrutiny both to affect results and to
collect information.   Where,  however, can  we  find  any
class of events which so entirely resist the inductive process? So far as respects sanitary and moral influences, we
learn enough to say that any violation of cleanliness or
temperance, will be productive of injury to life. But when
we come to examine the issues of life and death themselves,
we will find that their threads are held by an unseen hand.
Observe, as an illustration of this, the contrast between war,
the most efficient human means of destroying life, and
cholera, the greatest Divine scourge. In twenty-two years
of war, as returned by the London Board of Health, there
were 19,796 killed, being a yearly average of 899. In
1848-9, there were no less than 72,180 persons killed by
cholera in England and Wales alone. And yet of all
agencies of death, war is that in which, in a human sense,
About one-third of the total deaths were children under five years of
age, and they show the influence of the latter more strikingly. At
all hours, from ten o'clock in the morning until midnight, the deaths
are at or below the mean; the hours from four to five in the afternoon, and from nine to ten in the evening, being minima, but the
hours after midnight being the lowest maximum; at all the hours
from two to ten in the morning the deaths are above the mean,
attaining their maximum at from five to six o'clock in the morning,
when it is forty-five and a half per cent. above."
350
~ 244
L — 
NOT AFFECTING MAN.
the notion of law is the most completely developed, while
the cause and conditions of cholera have defied all attempts
at discovery. So it is with individual agencies. A frost,
the first of the kind for fifty years, caused the destruction
of the French army in Russia, and the overthrow of the
empire  of Napoleon I.   A  slight pebble on  the road
caused the death of William III. of England. An iceberg,
floated by a casual current out of its path, destroys one
steamer, the tooth of a rat another, the momentary negligence of an engineer a third; a building falls and hundreds
are crushed to death; a vessel carried by mistake out of her
course, introduces into a northern city a fever that kills
thousands. Death, in a human sense the most important
of events, is that, of all others, whose causes most defy systematization.
Or, take the facts so exultingly classified by Mr. Buckle,
that the average number of undirected, of misdirected, and
of missigned letters, runs upward with the advance of population.  Hlere is a "law," undoubtedly, but it does not
impinge on the freedom of the individual man.*   The
aggregate of misdirected letters may be calculated, but we
cannot say who it will be by whom the next misdirected
letter will be sent. Probation is incased in a coat of mail
so impenetrable and so polished, that the shafts of general
laws bound off from it without effecting a lodgment.
From the reasoning which has just been given, we may
conclude that the Almighty governs the moral universe in
* See ante, ~ 216-19.
~ 244
351
!n
kk" 
MIND:
person, sitting in the darkness of iis own council-chamber,
while Hie directs the physical universe through the agency
of fixed and published law. This view, if correct, relieves
the doctrine of special providence of all real difficulty.*
~ 245. The structure of the mind gives an additional
strength to the view just stated. We judge from the short
legs and heavy frame of one animal, that it was shaped to
browse on the rich and continuous meadow, or to wallow in
the reedy lagoon. We judge from the slight figure and
delicate, though sinewy limbs of another, that it was designed for mountain heights.  Such are the conclusions we
draw from the fragments of the rhinoceros or the gemsbok that we find in a cabinet of fossils. Hlow is it with
man?   Can we not judge of the limits of the field over
which his mind is permitted to range from the structure of
that mind itself?
Now on this point I know no higher psychological authority than Locke; a great and candid thinker, whose claims,
for a time set aside under the brilliant though unsafe
guidance of Cousin,t are now regaining even more than
* See this question examined in connection with that of the origin
of evil, ante, ~ 129-131. See also ~ 88.
t It is one of the worst features of the eclecticism of this writer,
that thinking rather rhetorically than philosophically, he gives us,
not a harmonious reconciliation, but a scenic grouping of the conspicuous points of the preceding schools. It is a French psychological drama, in which, with due regard to the unities of time and
place, the personifications of prior speculations are brought together
in such attitudes as to produce the greatest sensation.  In such a
company the homely bearing and russet sense of Locke scarcely
fit him to play a part.
352
~ 245
I 
DISPROVING FATALISM.
their former authority.   "Men have reason," he says, "to
be well satisfied with what God has thought fit for them,
since he has given them, as St. Peter says, rac,a ppo~ "oJ,;
/z  cVSzf_a.',   whatsoever is necessary for the convenience
of life and the information of virtue; and has put within
the reach of their discovery the comfortable provision for
this life, and the way that leads to a better. How short
soever their knowledge may be of a universal or perfect
comprehension of whatever is, it yet secures their great
concernments, that they have light enough to lead them to
the knowledge of their Maker and the sight of their own
duties.  Men may  find matter sufficiently to busy their
heads and employ their hands with variety, delight, and
satisfaction, if they will not boldly quarrel with their own
constitutions, and throw away the blessings their hands are
filled with because they are not big enough to grasp everything.  *  *  *   It will be  no excuse  to  an idle and
untoward servant, who would not attend his business by
candlelight, to plead that he had not broad sunshine.   The
candle that is set up within us shines bright enough for
all purposes."
~ 246. It has been reserved, however, for Sir William
Hamilton to demonstrate, with an unrivaled power both of
analysis and of explication, the studiousness of that care
with which the great Artificer of the human mind confines
it to the limited, the relative, and the conditioned, and
excludes it from the infinite, the absolute, and the unconditioned.  The Philosophy of Comnmon Sense; as expounded
by this last and greatest of its teachers, bears so important
30*
~ 246
353 
CONSCIOUSNESS:
a part in the development of a sound theism, that I may be
permitted to give it here more than a passing notice.*
~ 247. Certain primary beliefs, according to Sir William
Hamilton, lie at the basis of all truth. These are the objects of consciousness, and derive their force from the fact
that  they are necessarily true.   Their  value, therefore,
depends on the veracity of consciousness.   To doubt this
"is to doubt the actuality of the fact of consciousness, and
consequently to doubt the doubt itself, which is a contradiction, and subverts itself."   Mr. Hume, in fact, whose
authority is so often quoted on the other side, concedes this,
in a passage which diverts from the renditions of consciousness the whole force of his subtle skepticism.   "Should it
* To those who have not the time or the opportunity for the study
of Sir W. Hamilton's entire works, scattered as they are over so
wide a margin, I would recommend Mr. Samuel Tyler's "Progress of
Philosophy," Phila., J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1858, a work which gives
a succinct, perspicuous, and reliable statement of the positions of the
great Scotch philosopher.  It is greatly to be regretted that Sir
William Hamilton died before he was able to place his views in the
form of a comprehensive treatise. As now existing in their original
shape, they are mainly to be found in his foot-notes and his supplementary dissertations to Reid, and in his "Discussions on Philosophy and Literature," first published by him as distinct articles in
the "Edinburgh Review," and afterwards collected by himr in a separate volume. The latter has been republished in this country, New
York, Harper & Brothers, 1856. Of the entire material, a valuable
analytical compendium, presenting many of the advantages of a distinct treatise, has been issued in this country by Mr. O. W. Wight.
Fourth edition, New York, Appleton & Co., 1857.
~ 247
354 
DISPROVING FATALISM.
be here asked me," he says, in the "Treatise on Iluman
Nature," which his adversaries as well as his followers unite
in appealing to as giving the ablest and most mature exhibition of his system, "whether I sincerely assent to this
argument which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and
whether I be really one of those skeptics who hold that all
is uncertain, and that our judgment is not in any thing possessed of any measures of truth and falsehood, I should
reply that this question is entirely superfluous, and that
neither I nor any other person was ever sincerely and
constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and
uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as well
as to breathe and feel; nor can we any more forbear viewing
certain objects in a stronger and fuller light upon account
of their customary connection with a present impression,
than we can hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we
are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies when we turn
our eyes toward them in broad sunshine.   Whoever has
taken pains to refute the cavils of this total skepticism, has
really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavored by
arguments to establish a faculty which Nature  has antecedently imiplanted in the mind and rendered unavoid able. * * * If belief were a simple act of the thought,
without any peculiar manner of conception, or the addition
of force and vivacity, it must infallibly destroy itself, and in
every case terminate in a total suspension of judgment.
But as experience will sufficiently convince any one, that
although he finds no error in my arguments, yet he still con tinues to believe and think and reason as usual, he may
safely conclude that his reasoning andl belief is some sensa
~ 247
355
.r 
FATALISM:
tion or peculiar manner of conception, which it is impossible
for mere ideas and reflections to destroy."*
Now here we have the assertion, not only of the existence
of these primary beliefs, but of their necessity, (they are
"unavoidable,") of their veracity, (they are likened to the
impression on the eye of "bodies in broad sunshine,") and
of their universality, ("neither I nor any other person was
ever sincerely and constantly of that [the skeptical] opinion.")
The PHILOSOPIIY OF CO.IMON SENSE, as taught by Sir William Hamilton, takes these primary beliefs as the basis, and
makes subordination to and agreement with them a test of
all disputed propositions.
~ 248. So far as this system bears upon the question now
before us, it may be summed up in a single principle. Our
knowledge is limited by the condition of relativity. We can
have no knowledge of the absolute.  Hence it is that while the
Hegelian school assumed to itself the title of the Philosophy
of the Absolute, that of which Sir William Hamilton is the
exponent, takes that of the Philosophy of the Conditioned.
How these are distinguished is thus stated by Sir William
Hiamilton himself: —
"The philosophy of the Conditioned is the express converse of the philosophy of the Absolute-at least as this
system has been latterly evolved in Germany. For this
asserts to man a knowledge of the Unconditioned-of the
Absolute and Infinite; while that denies to him a knowledge
of either, and maintains, all which we immediately know, or
can know, to be only the Conditioned, the Relative, the
* Essay on Human Nature, part iv. ~ 1.
356
~ 248 
REFUTED BY HAMILTON.
Phenomenal, the Finite. The one, supposing knowledge to
be only of existence in itself, and existence in itself to be
apprehended, and even understood, proclaims-' Understand
that you may believe' (Intellige ut credas;) the other, supposing that existence in itself is unknown, that apprehension
is only a phenomena, and that these are received only upon
trust, as incomprehensibly revealed facts, proclaims, with the
prophet-' Believe that ye may understand,' (Crede ut intelligas. Is. vii. 9, sec. lxx.) But extremes meet. In one
respect, both coincide, for both agree, that the knowledge of
Nothing is the principle or result of all true philosophy.
"'Scire?iihil-studium, quo nos letamur utrique.' But
the one doctrine, openly maintaining that the Nothing must
yield everything, is a philosophic omniscience; whereas the
other, 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 knowledge; while the doctrine of
the Conditioned is a philosophy professing relative knowledge, but confessing absolute ignorance.   Thus, touching
the absolute: the watchword of the one is,-' Noscendo cognoscitur, ignorando ignoratur;' the watchword of the other
is,-' Noscendo ignoratur, ignorando cognoscitur.'
"But which is true? To answer this, we need only examine our own consciousness; there shall we recognize the
limited'extent of our tether.'
"'Tecum habita, et noris quam sit tibi curta supellex.'
But this one requisite is fulfilled (alas!) by few; and the
same philosophic poet has to lament:
Ut nemo in sese tentat descendere,-nemo;
Sed precedenti spectatur mantica tergo!"
~ 248
357
ttl 
FATALISM:
~ 249. Our inability, therefore, to reconcile the two great
primary beliefs of human consciousness-God's sovereignty
and man's responsibility-arises from our own impotence,
itself a proof of the proposition that the sphere from which
the human intellect is thus excluded, is one which is enveloped in the mystery of the Divine counsels. In what way
this relieves us from the fatalistic side of the necessitarian
theory, is thus stated by Sir W. Hamilton:  "There is no ground for inferring a certain fact to be
impossible, merely from our inability to conceive it possible.
At the same time, if the causal judgment be not an express
affirmation of mind, but only an incapacity of thinking the
opposite; it follows that such a negative judgment cannot
counterbalance the express affirmative, the unconditional testimony, of consciousness,-that we are, though we know not
how, the true and responsible authors of our actions, not
merely the worthless links in an adamantine series of effects
and causes.  It appears to me, that it is only on such a doctrine that we can philosophically vindicate the liberty of the
human will,-that we can rationally assert to man-'fatis
avolsa voluntas.' How the will can possibly be free, must
remain to us, under the present limitation of our faculties,
wholly incomprehensible. We are unable to conceive an absolute commencement; we cannot, therefore, conceive a free
volition. A determination, by motives, cannot, to our understanding, escape from necessitation.   Nay, were we even
to admit as true, what we cannot think as possible, still the
doctrine of a motiveless volition would be only casualism;
and the free acts of an indifferent are, morally and rationally,
as worthless as the preordered passions of a determined will.
358
~ 249 
DISPROVED BY CONSCIOUSNESS.
How, therefore, I repeat, moral liberty is possible in man or
God, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand. But
practically, the fact, that we are free, is given to us in the
consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, in the consciousness of our moral accountability; and this fact of
liberty cannot be redargued on the ground that it is incomprehensible, for the philosophy of the conditioned proves,
against the necessitarian, that things there are, which may,
nay, must be, true, of which the understanding is wholly
unable to construe to itself the possibility."
But does not this stop with the vindication of moral
liberty, as po.ssible though inconceivable, and does it
not, on the other hand, give the fatalistic necessitarian
scheme the advantage of being conceivable as well as possible? Does it not, therefore, bring us back once more to
Fatalism, as, of the two schemes, the one beset with the less
difficulty? This is answered by Sir W. Hamilton with exquisite subtlety and conclusive effect: "This philosophy is
not only competent to defend the fact of our moral liberty,
possible though inconceivable, against the assault of the
fatalist; it retorts against himself the very objection of incomprehensibility by which the fatalist had thought to
triumph over the libertarian.   It shows that the scheme of
freedom is not more inconceivable than the scheme of neces sity. For while fatalism is a recoil from the more obtrusive
inconceivability of an absolute commencement, on the fact
of which commencement the doctrine of liberty proceeds,
the fatalist is shown to overlook the equal, but less obtru sive inconceivability of an infinite non-commencement, on
the assertion of which non-commencement his own doctrine
359
~ 249 
FATALISM:
of necessity must ultimately rest.  As equally unthinkable,
the two counter, the two one-sided schemes are thus theoretically balanced. But practically, our consciousness of the
moral law, which, without a moral liberty in man, would be
a mendacious imperative, gives a decisive preponderance to
the doctrine of freedom over the doctrine of fate.  We  are
free in act, if we are accountable for our actions.
"Such (,o'a a      v:o) are the hints of an undeveloped
philosophy, which, I am confident, is founded upon truth.
To this confidence I have come, not merely through the
convictions of my own consciousness, but by finding in this
system a centre and conciliation for the most opposite of
philosophical opinions.   Above all, however,  I am  confirmed in my belief, by the harmony between the doctrines
of this philosophy, and those of revealed truth.'Credo
equidem, nec vana fides.'  The  philosophy of the  conditioned is indeed pre-eminently a discipline of humility; a
'learned ignorance,' directly opposed to the false'knowlecldge which puffeth up.' I may, indeed, say with St. Chrysostom:-' The foundation of our philosophy is humility.'*
For it is professedly a scientific demonstration of the impossibility of that'wisdom in high matters' which the
Apostle prohibits us even to attempt; and it proposes,
from the limitation of the human powers, from our impotence
to comprehend what, however, we must admit, to show
articulately why the'secret things of God' cannot but be to
man'past finding out.' Humility thus becomes the cardinal virtue not only of revelation, but of reason. This
* IHomil. de Perf. Evang.
360
~ 249 
DISPROVED BY CONSCIOUSNESS.
scheme proves, moreover, that no difficulty emerges in theology which had not previously emerged in philosophy; that
in fact, if the divine do not transcend what it has pleased
the Deity to reveal, and willfully identify the doctrine of
God's word with some arrogant extreme of human speculation, philosophy will be found the most useful auxiliary of
theology.      *     *      *      *     *     *     *      *
"It is here shown to be as irrational as irreligious, on
the ground of human understanding, to deny, either on the
one hand, the foreknowledge, predestination, and free grace
of God, or, on the other, the free will of man; that we
should believe both, and both in unison, though unable to
comprehend either even apart. This philosophy proclaims
with St. Augustin, and Angustin in his maturest writings:
'If there be not free grace in God, how can Hie save the
world; and if there be not free will in man, how can the
world by God be judged?'* Or, as the same doctrine is
perhaps expressed even better by St. Bernard:-' Abolish
free will, and there is nothing to be saved; abolish free
grace, and there is nothing wherewithal to save.' "t
* Ad Valentinumn, Epist. 214.
t De Gratis et Libero Arbitrio, c. i.  See this question considered
in relation to the origin of evil, ante, ~ 113-131.
31
~ 249
361
m 
PANTHEISM:
CHAPTER IV.
PANTHEISM.
a. IN WHAT IT CONSISTS.
al. Material.
~ 250.  Hylozoism,  as has  already  been  incidentally
noticed, holds that all matter is the seat of divine energy
and is thus entitled to worship. When the entire personality of God is thus distributed, leaving no residuum
behind, this doctrine becomes equivalent to material pantheism. The whole universe, psychical as well as physical,
is material. Intellect is but an attribute of body. Deity
itself has no spiritual personality, but comprehends and is
bounded by the physical universe, itself self-existent and
eternal. Nor is the view of those who hold that some portion of the divine energy remains undistributed, materially
different in its consequences from that just stated.  Though
there be a divine spiritual residue remaining after the
divinity of the universe is carved out, such residue is remanded to a condition of comatose insensibility, that of
a Divinity on furlough, merely to be occasionally recognized
by a complimentary adoration, and then to be passed practically by as possessed of no real power.*
* Of this class is the pantheism of worldliness, which makes the
~ 250
362
0 
WHAT IS IT.
b1. Ideal.
~ 251. In this scheme the objective does not exist, all
material nature being resolved into the conception entertained of it by the intellect.   Existence and thought, in
this view, are identical, and the individual EGO is but an
item in the ABSOLUTE GOD. There is no matter,-we are
all god,-form the two fundamental articles in ideal pantheism.
It is among the German transcendental philosophers that
this species of pantheism finds its chief exponents.   State
the doctrine philosophically, and it narrows itself to a denial
of the distinct existence of any spiritual agency except
God. There is no dualism in the universe. The soul is
but a phenomenon of God, as the wave is but a phenomenon
of the sea. Sometimes we hear the terms "Son" and
"Spirit" used, and we suppose from this a recognition of
even a divine distinction of persons. This, however, is far
from the case.  The " Son" is the universe; the " Spirit,"
the property which binds the Absolute and the universe together.  Cousin tells us that the Trinity consists of, "at the
world, e.g. society, supreme, recognizing, it is true, the Divine
Being as existing, but as in a state of retirement, and entitled
only to nominal homage. Mr. Rogers thus illustrates this in his
"Table-Talk." An English duchess was, one Sunday morning, too
late for church, and found the door closed. "Never mind, Georgiana,"
said she to one of her daughters, as she turned away, "anyhow, we
have done the civil thing." It was the "civil thing" done by the
world to a superannuated God. But what an awful reverse to the
picture have we when we contemplate that God, august, tremendous,
present, patient, waiting the day of His power.
~ 251
363
1,. -11 
PANTHEISM:
same time, God, Nature, and Humanity."*  This well deserves a rebuke which is all the more severe from the
fact that it comes from Mr. Morell:  "Much as we admire
Cousin, while he keeps within his proper limits, and much
as we are disposed to maintain the truth of his philosophy,
in most of its principal features, we cannot but repudiate,
with all our energy, his attempts to intrude upon the sacred
province of the Christian revelation. If he will stand up
as a theologian, and fight the battle upon its proper grounds,
let him do so, and there are plenty to take up the gauntlet
he throws down; but it is not the part, which his own philosophy would dictate, to raise a new theory of revelation
to supersede all the rest, without considering the facts
and the evidences which the Christian revelation can display. "t
It is not within my limit to examine the several phases
which this doctrine assumes with the transcendental and
eclectic philosophers. With Schelling it is termed Identitatslehre, or the doctrine of Identity. Hiegel mounts above
this, and tells us that the "World-Spirit" (Weltgeist) has
freed himself from all incumbrances, and is able to conceive
himself as Absolute and all-engrossing Intelligence, (absolute Geist.) According to this system, history is the mere
autobiography of God; the world is but the flesh, ever
changing yet eternal, in which His divine essence is embodied;   He himself,  as the  all-comprehending personality, embraces all spiritual as well as material existence;
to Hlim the world is necessary, as an inalienable property of
* See Mlorell's I-ist. Phil., p. 655.
364
~ 251
t -[bid. p. 661. 
IN WIIAT IT CONSISTS.
His own life; sin, like pain, is a form of good, and a necessary evolution of the Absolute; philosophy is the highest
form of religion.  In these views the transcendental writers,
both in Germany and in this country, in the main agree.
Even Cousin, in his History of Philosophy, does not, I conceive, vary much from this stand-point.* Sir W. Hiamilton,
indeed, declares that Cousin "is a disciple, though by no
means a servile disciple" of Schellilg. On the other hand,
AIr. Lewes, in his History of Philosophy, tells us that
"Cousin's system is but an awkward imitation of Hegel."t
Both critics are in this correct.   In Cousin's earlier papers,
he undoubtedly followed more closely the Hegelian lead,
while in his History of Philosophy he attaches himself more
particularly to that of Schelling. In the practical maintenance of Ideal Pantheism, in fact, Schellinig and Hegel
agree, though they divide in their way of reaching the
result. It is the result in which Cousin followed both.
The "science of the unconditioned" at both eras found him
among its disciples. In his later writings, however, while
not expressly receding from this philosophy, he has with
great solemnity declared, that so far as it is inconsistent
with a true Theism, it was no longer held by him. 
* See his Hist. of Malod. Phil, trans. by Mr. O. W. Wight, vol. i.
p. 83.
t Appleton's ed., 1857, p. 738.
+ I cannot but feel, however, that the leading philosophical critics
of all schools agree as to the pantheistic tendency of Cousin's eclecticism. So far as concerns the Philosophy of the Absolute, Hegel,
as is well known, claimed him as an adherent, and in reviewing
Cousin's earlier writings, gladly welcomed his aid.  Mr. Lewes, who
31*
~ 251
365 
PANTHEISM:
b. OBJECTIONS TO PANTHEISM.
~ 252. a'. Its hopelessness.
It has no future. This wonderful "sea-change" of nature-this perpetuity of the world, in all its waning and
waxing loveliness, only, however, to wane and wax againthis is the best hope that the pantheist can nourish. The
soul is ever and ever to swing backward and forward from
may be well considered as representing positivism, and Sir W. Hamilton, as representing the Philosophy of Common Sense, speak for
themselves in the text. The opinion of orthodox Christian theologians may be gathered from Dr. Chalmers, who declares Cousin's
idealism to have a pantheistic leaning, and from Mr. Pearson,* who
says,-" For the last twenty-five years, Cousin, the eloquent' apostle
of Rationalism in France,' and others of the eclectic school, have
been inculcating, in the Ecole Normale, at Paris, a system much more
favorable to pantheism than to the Christian revelation; and have
raised up not a few instructors to disseminate the same throughout
the country." To this we may add the remarks of Mr. Morell, a
critic whose position, so far as religion is concerned, is of the extremest latitudinarianism.  "Cousin's view of the Divine Nature,"
he says, "is confessedly somewhat recondite and indistinct.  While
on the one hand, he altogether repudiates the charge of pantheism,
yet on the other hand, it is difficult to say how his opinions, as above
described, can be altogether vindicated from it."t This element in
Cousin's philosophy has been assailed with great power by Maret,
in his "Essai sur le Pantheisme;" by Bautain, in his "Psychologie
Experimentale," and by the "Princeton Review," in 1839 and 1856.
Dr. Henry, in his introduction to Cousin's Psychology, gives us, on
the other hand, an elaborate reply to these attacks.
~' Infidelity, etc., Carter's ed., pp. 67, 564.
t MIorell, list. Phil., Cart. ed., p. 655.  See post, l 256,
366
~ 252 
ITS COMFORTLESSNESS.
decay to resurrection, and then, not from resurrection to ascension, but from resurrection to decay.   It is the tolling of
the bell over the wrecked steamer:
Tolling, tolling, tolling,
The bell by billows rung;
Night and day, and day and night,
Speaking with mournful tongue;
Toll for the queenly boat
Wreck'd on yon rocky shore,
Sea-weed is in her palace halls,
She rides the surge no more.
Nor can ideal pantheism hold a higher hope. Already its
disciples declare:-" The currents of the Universal Being
circulate through me. I am part or particle of God.'"*
There is nothing for him to rise to, for he holds to no personal God to whom he may hereafter mount. And, at the
best, all he can look forward to is, when the earthly house is
dissolved, to be returned, as the air in the broken bottle,
into undistinguished, unconscious space.
~ 253. bl. Its comnfortlessness.
It knows no providence to look up to, no heart, human
enough to feel and divine enough to help, on which to repose. Its orphanage is infinite, for in all the weakness and
dependence of perpetual pupilage, it stands in the isolation
of the One Eternal and Supreme himself. So it is on its own
showing; but, how much more awful is its state when it
witnesses-and of this it must admit there is some chancethe shadow over it of a Father disowning because disowned!
* Emerson, Essays, etc.
367
~ 2-03 
PANTHEISM:
~ 254. cl. Its repugnancy to common sense, denying individuality.
Consciousness demonstrates to us self observation others.
Pantheism denies both. "We are each other, others are
ourselves, all is God." But common sense comes in and declares, "I am myself, thou art thyself, and God is above
and around us all."*
~ 255. d'. It destroys belief, not mnerely in a God, but
in the pracetical sequences of nature, and generates, therefore, habits, not of energy and perseverance,  but of
drea)ny mysticism and inaction.
This is illustrated by the social working of pantheism
as distinguished from that of even the sternest monotheism. Take, as an instance of the latter, even when in
the shape which, to the philosophler, appears of all others
the most rugged,-that of the Hluguenots, the Scotch covenauters, the English Puritans, and the Dutch and German
adherents of Calvin. No one can deny the industrial energy
of these religionists. They were charged with so exalting
God's sovereignty as to destroy human responsibility. Their
conduct did not show this. Nowhere were to be found workmen who united in such an eminent degree patience with
industry, and ingenuity with social purity and honesty. When
they were driven from the south of France the looms
stopped; when they were driven from the Palatinate the
fields were deserted. But how has it been with pantheism?
In the few cases where it has exercised any influence it has
* As to the way this point is met by the philosophy of common
sense, see abate,, 247.
368
~ 254-255 
ITS IMMORALITY.
generated a dreamy imbecility which has repelled labor, and,
by so doing, has left the energies open to the approach of
sentimentalism or sensualism. So we find by examining the
history of the Phalanxes and Brooke Farms, where the experiment of practical transcendentalism has been tried.* Nor,
when we take the principle of the two schools, do we see
any reason to be surprised at this. The former inculcates,
in connection with reverence and love to God, the discharge
of a series of severe specific duties, prominent among which
are industry and an energetic practical benevolence. The
latter leaves its disciples to simmer in complacent self-contemplation, or to evaporate into an inane because indefinite
and universal sympathy.
~ 256. el. It apotheosizes vice as well as virtue.
Of all the pantheistic schemes, that of eclecticism makes
the nearest approach to a true theism, and most vehemently repudiates the usual pantheistic corollaries. Yet the
theory of Cousin, the founder of modern eclecticism, and its
most brilliant advocate, involves the entire absorption of
the individual purpose in the Divine. Mr. Morell, whose
capacity as a critic all admit, and whose fairness cannot be
doubted at least by those who have the benefit of his philosophical sympathies, tells us that "if we admit that the
Deity of Cousin possesses a conscious personality, yet still
it is one which contains in itself the infinite personality and
consciousness of every subordinate mind. God is the ocean
-we are but the waves; the ocean may be one individuality,
* See, as a very powerful delineation of the working of the latter
system, Hawthorne's fine tale of the Blythedale Romance.
I I
~ 256
369 
PANTHEISM:
and each wave another; but still they are essentially one
and the same. We see not how Cousin's Theism can possibly be consistent with any idea of moral evil; neither
do we see how, starting from such a dogma, he can ever
vindicate and uphold his own theory of human liberty. On
such theistic principles all sin must be simply defect, and all
defect must be absolutely fatuitous."*  Such, in fact, is the
position practically taken by Cousin himself.  "History,"
he tells us in one place, "is the manifestation of God's
supervision of humanity; the judgments of history are the
judgments of God himself."t Let us take, as an illustration of this, the way he claims war as a Divine evolution.
"Wars  and battles are, first, inevitable; secondly, beneficial."  "The hazards of war and of the diverse fortunes
of combats are spoken of without cessation; for my part, I
think there is very little chance in war; the dice are loaded,
it seems, for I defy any one to cite me a single game lost by
humanity." "What is glory? The judgment of humanity
upon one of its members; and humanity is always right."1
"iHumanity is always right," and this not because, like an
infallible church, humanity is charged as a corporation with
divine wisdom, but because the individuals who make up
humanity bear the same relation to the Divine centre of truth
as do the waves to the sea. War is right because it is a
movement of these individuals, who are themselves the emanations of God. All other crimes lose their stain from the
same reason.
* Morell's Hist. Phil., p. 660. See ante, ~ 249.
t Hist. Phil., trans. by Wight, p. 159.
1 Ibid., pp. 186-189.
370
~ 256 
ITS IMMORALITY.
If these results flow from eclecticism, a philosophy in
which the Hegelian system is held in check by being placed
in juxtaposition with Scotch orthodox psychology, a fortiori
do they follow from those systems of which the "Absolute
Idealism" of Hegel is the centre.
~ 257. It is no answer to this position that writers of this
class express themselves in abhorrence of crime in general,
and more particularly of such special offences as are most in
the way of a sublimated transcendentalism. But this is in the
same way that we speak of the pale hue of one planet and
the lurid hue of another. It is a matter of opinion on our
part, involving no charge of culpability on the planet. In
fact, it is the Divine absorbent that has some of its outer
evolutions thus tinged: it is not the planets individually.
So with sin. It is dark or light,-it is lenient or heinous,still the human perpetrator is not to be charged with'it, but
the Absolute ocean itself, of which man is a mere ripple.
~ 258. "But," it may be said, "is not this very much the
same view as that which results from necessitarianism, a
system considered an open one by the great body of Christian orthodox theologians?" The reply to this is decisive.
The necessitarian, whenever, at least, he accepts the Christian orthodox formulas, recognizes the individuality and
responsibility of the human will. It may be that this is
inconsistent with the doctrine of necessity on any other
hypothesis than that of the philosophy of Common Sense.
Be this as it may, the Christian necessitarian makes the fullness of human responsibility one of the two great facts of his
system. iHe never contemplates man's extinction or absorption. According to him the human soul is invested with
~ 257-258
371 
PANTHEISM:
the two sublimest of properties. The first of these is that
of becoming a co-worker with God on earth and a co-heir
with Christ in heaven. The second, almost equally sublime
though inexpressibly awful, is that of being a persistent and
continuous rebel against the Most High. This most decisive proof of an insoluble and repellent individuality, necessitarianism emphatically recognizes.  It pictures before itself
this insurrectionary will, eternally rearing its crest not only
against the Almighty himself, but against its own peace and
comfort. In this awful spectacle the Christian necessitarian
shudderingly gazes as it were on a rock like that of St.
Helena, in which a captive, confined in his island bounds,
maintains in fierce, unsubdued isolation, a defiant and mocking rebellion.  There is a tragic grandeur in this which
shadows forth to us the individuality of the soul with a rugged sternness which even the pictures of bliss do not equal,
just in the same way as the black and portentous cloud on
the summer horizon is more readily traced than the sunlight
fleece that is hardly distinguishable from the splendid infinite
above. It ill becomes those who absorb the individual in
the absolute to claim that they alone understand the dignity
of human nature, and the sublimity of its mission. Nowhere
are that dignity and sublimity asserted with such austere
and yet such inspiring precision,-nowhere is a voice so
warning and yet so cheering,-nowhere with accompaniments so august,-as by him who asserts the self-responsibility of man in making up his eternity of bliss or woe.
~ 259. fl. It is i)consistent with the marks of purpose
and contrivance which we rmeet with throughout the universe.
372
~ 259 
ILLOGICAL.
On this point I can do no more than refer to the first book
in the present volume, as giving a summary of the argument
from design.
~ 260. gl. It involves the absurdity and the self-contradiction of intelligence generated by matter; and brings us
back again to a first cause, which differs from that of the
theist in that while the one makes God create matter, the
other makes matter create God.
God, or the Absolute Intelligence of the Pantheist, is
inseparable from nature. In the primeval stages of creation, therefore, when there was no organized life, God was
matter-matter unlighted by any ray of intelligence.    In
the days of the sea-anemone, and of the beach-fern, the
divine intelligence was purely vegetable. In future stages
that intelligence would not arise above that of the insensate
crustaceans that sprawled over the soft mud of the paleozoic
lagoons, or the gigantic and ferocious lizards and crocodiles
that ravaged the shallows. Now this is liable to a double
difficulty: it makes the Perfect and Absolute-for such He
is, even as the Pantheist's theory, though He  be but an
aggregate-it makes Him to consist of, alternately, a stone,
a fish, and a beast.
It makes matter create God. Now the pantheistic objection to the theistic argument is that it makes God create
matter.   It is impossible, it is said by the pantheists, for the
Intelligent to create the Material out of nothing.  But how
much more strongly does this apply to the position which
modern geological discovery compels the pantheist to take,
that the Material out of nothing creates the Intelligent.
32
~ 260
373 
COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT:
CHAPTER V.
DEVELOPMENT.
a. IN WHAT THE DEVELOPMENT THEORY CONSISTS.
~ 261. CASTING aside the theory of ecclesiastical development, which scarcely falls within our present range, development may be considered as of two classes:
a., Cosmical.   b'. Organic.
a'. Cosmical.
~ 262. An original and universal fire-mist, formed of nebulous vapor, existed, it is assumed, first in a state of intense
heat, and then was by cooling condensed in part into a fluid,
and in part into a solid. As it cooled, certain nuclei were
established which became centres of aggregation to which
the neighboring diffused matter was drawn. This very process, it is declared, imparts a rotatory motion. As, however,
the nucleus increased to a bulb in whose circumference the
centrifugal force exceeded the agglomerating force, rings
would fall off which would pursue their own appropriate
motion. In this way, first a central sun, and then a planetary system, may be supposed to arise. Even now, it is said,
this process of development is going on, and the milky-way
is but the fluid out of which future stars are to be churned.
I do not propose to go into the astronomical question
374
~ 261-262 
NEBULAE.
involved. Two views, as is well known, have been taken,
one denying, the other affirming, the resolvability of the
nebulae. The first was summed up, in 1854, by Sir David
Brewster,* who gives us the following conclusions. Nebula
should be classed as follows: 1, Nebule that the telescope
has resolved; and 2, Nebulee that the telescope has not
resolved.
~ 263. Now the latter class, as the power of the telescope
increases, has gradually been giving way to the former.
"As it is now an astronomical fact that nebulee which Sir William Herschel with his finest telescopes could not resolve, and
which had no appearance whatever of being resolvable, have
been resolved into distinct stars by the magnificent reflectors
of Lord Rosse, we are enabled without any hypothetical statements to place the question of the existence of star dust or
purely nebulous matter, in its proper aspect; that is, we can
assign a satisfactory reason to the reader for considering every
nebula in the heavens as a cluster of stars which is likely to
be resolved by telescopes superior to those of Lord Rosse.
* * *  The interesting discovery made by Lord Rosse of
what is called spiral nebula, where the nebulous matter
may be considered as having been thrown off by some singular cause from the centre of the nebulae, may be regarded as
hostile to the opinion that such nebulee are composed of
separate stars.    *      *     *
"As the appearance of motion, therefore, in particular
nebula is no proof that they consist of purely nebulous
matter composed of invisible particles, we are entitled to
* iore Worlds than One, etc., p. 175; New York, R. Carter & Bros.
375
~ 263 
COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT:
draw the conclusion that this large class of celestial bodies
are clusters of stars at an immense distance from our own
system,-that each of the stars of which they are composed
is the sun or centre of a system of planets, and that these
planets are inhabited, or if we follow a strict analogy, that
at least one planet in each of these numberless systems is
like our earth, the seat of vegetable, animal, and intellectual
life.
"Before we quit the subject of nebula, and purely nebulous
matter, we must notice two points connected with the optical
appearance of nebula which we think are strong arguments
in favor of their being resolvable into stars. If a nebula
consisted of phosphorescent or self-luminous atoms of nebulous matter, its light would be immensely inferior in brightness to that of the same nebula composed of suns which are
provided with a luminous atmosphere for the very purpose
of discharging a brilliant light. When we see, therefore,
two nebulae of the very same brightness, and find by the telescope that one of them only is resolvable into stars, we can
scarcely doubt that the other is similarly composed. We cannot conceive that a nebula of phosphorescent stars could be
visible at such enormous distances from our system. When
a planetary nebula is equally bright in every part of its disc,
like that which is a little to the south of fi Urse Majoris,
and which resembles a flat disc,'presented to us in a plane
precisely perpendicular to the visual ray,' it is impossible to
regard it as nebulous matter in a state of aggregation.   In
like manner, all those nebula, which have strange and irregular shapes, indicate the absence of any force of aggregation, and authorize us to regard them as clusters of stars."
376
~ 263 
~ 264-265     RESOLVABILITY OF NEBUL2E.
~ 264. Sir John Herschel, differing in this respect from
his illustrious father, thus speaks: "We have every reason
to believe, at least in the generality of cases, that a nebula
is nothing more than a cluster of stars."*
~ 265. To the same effect is the language of Dr. Nichol,
in his work on the Architecture of the Heavens. t Before
the application of Lord Rosse's telescope to the nebula of
Orion, Dr. Nichol held to the belief that this and the other
masses in the heavens were to be presumed to be, in part at
least, a nebulous fluid. In 1851, however, when Lord Rosse's
discoveries at Parsonstown were known, Dr. Nichol thus
revises his former opinion: "On the ground of a certain
characteristic, Herschel felt disposed to divide unresolved
nebulse into two classes; he declined to believe one class to
be stellar, because that conclusion would have constrained
his acceptance of what seemed opposed by all analogy, viz.,
the existence of aggregations of stars in a condition of
compression to which he had found nothing even approximately similar, in the course of his previous examination of
the universe. Now, the nebula of Orion being an eminent
instance of this latter class, its decisive resolution broke
down the force of the characteristic on which Herschel
depended as a discriminating one: it showed that to be a
fact, on the presumed improbability of which the entire
theory depended.  Assuredly, it is not impossible that matter may be found somewhere in a rude or chaotic state, not
* Memoir on Nebulse and Clusters of Stars;  Lond. Phil. Trans.
1833.
t Pages 144-5.
32*
377 
COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT:
having yet put on the organization of stars. To the
abstract possibilities of existence no man dare assign any
limit; but that which alone is existence or reality for the
mind-the domain of its belief, is guarded by strict rules of
evidence; and now the astronomer can adduce no justification
of the assertion, that any nebula, however stubborn, ought
to be interpreted contrary to the analogy of all other known
objects of its kind, or termed irresolvable, except in relation
to the capacity of the telescope with which he had sought
to explore it."*
~ 266. I have thus given the views of these eminent writers
on this vexed question. I am far, however, from thinking
that there is any necessary connection between revelation
and the theory on which these views rest. On the contrary,
I hold there are many reasons vwhy we should refrain from
mixing the question with religion in any way. The theory
itself is not capable of absolute proof. Its disproof which
at any time is at least possible, would involve, should it be
thus connected with the popular faith, a shock which it is
not wise unnecessarily to encounter. Let us see, then,
whether there are not grounds, at least enough, to lead us
to hold our opinions in this respect in abeyance.
The chief arguments which are relied on to prove the
resolvablity of the nebulm are very lucidly and felicitously
stated by the author of "The Plurality of Worlds."t  It is
there urged that the analogy of the Magellanic Clouds, of
*Nichol's Architecture of the Heavens;  ninth London edition,
p. 145.
t Gould & Lincoln's edition, p. 135.
3T8
~ 266 
ARE NEBULIE RESOLVABLE?
the Zodiacal light, and of the tails of comets, goes to show
that there may be luminous irresolvable matter; that at the
best, the dots into which Lord Rosse's telescope has resolved
Orion are not necessarily suns, but may themselves be nebulous lumps; that the spiral shape, like "a curled feather, or
whirlpool of light," exhibited by many of those nebulae, is
that which would be assumed by a luminous mass if detached
from a comet when moving along its orbit; and that their
form and character indicate that they are incapable of permanency or system. HIence the conclusion is taken that
they are vast masses of incoherent vapor, of immense
tenuity, diffused in forms more or less irregular, but all of
them destitute of any regular features of solid moving
bodies.
~ 267. Now let us observe that no man can risk a dogmatic assertion of either the truth or error of this position.
When we reach the limit of Lord Rosse's telescope, we have
opened to us, on the hypothesis that the nebulw in sight are
resolvable, a new series of nebulae as to which we have analogy alone as a guide.
The probability may be, to use the language of Dr. Harris,* "that a still superior telescopic power would resolve
other nebulous appearances and bring new ones to light;
and so on without end." We then fall back on analogy.
On the one side, we have the resolvability of the nebule
whose masses the telescope has so far penetrated. On the
other side, we have the prior condition of our own earth,
whose surface bears witness to an almost indefinite succes
* Pre-Adamite Earth, p. 74.
~ 267
379 
COSMICAL DEVELOPMENT:
sion of stages in the process by which it was manufactured
for human use.
And observe that if the latter hypothesis affects the theistic
argument, it is only to strengthen its proof, in the same way
that geology, by proving actual cosmical change produced by
physical force, accumulates the testimony of a Divine agency.
The proof of contrivance in the watch, which Dr. Paley's
inquirer is supposed to pick up in a field, is greatly augmented by a visit to the watch-maker's shop, where the material is seen in the process of preparation.  Our conviction
of the omnipotence and benevolence of God is in like manner augmented by viewing the majestic care with which, in
ages indefinitely remote, the fuel, the soil, and the irrigation
of the human era were provided for.* If in the more remote
of these stars there be inhabitants provided with instruments
of sufficient penetration, such observers may now be viewing
our globe in the course of chaotic preparation.  If so, they
merely see aditional evidence of the creative interposition of
God. If we assume the converse to be true, the conclusion
is the same.t
* See this point more fully discussed, ante, ~ 68, 70, etc.
t The folly of committing the church to the position of the resolvability of the nebulae, is thus admirably stated: "The real difference
between Sir David and the Essayist, with regard to the Nebular
Theory, consists in the exercise or neglect of a wise discrimination.
Sir David stands at a safe distance and cries out'Fire,' but does not
bring a single cup of water to stop the evil. The other pulls down the
sheds which form a road for the flames from the burning out-house
to the dwelling, and makes the engines play vigorously to put down
380
~ 267 
HOW  FAR ATIHEISTIC.
~ 268 bl. Organic development.
a'. On this point we are referred, by the author of " Vestiges of Creation," to the experiments of Mr. Crosse and Mr.
the conflagration.  The idea that brute matter, by its own energy, can
exalt itself successively into the fungus, the zoophyte, the insect, the
fish, the quadruped, and, even still higher, into human intelligence, is a
falsehood not only opposed to all the facts of science, but near of kin
to open atheism. But the opinion that it is formed, at first, in a diffused or nebulous condition, and left to condense, by its own laws,
into globes and systems, receptive, in due season, of vegetable and
animal life-is quite consistent with the most profound religious faith,
while it has certainly several analogies in known facts, and some presumptions of science in its favor. It detracts nothing from the wisdom really implied in the act of creation, and only renders it more
profound in its own nature, and more gradual in its manifestation.
An oak is not the less beautiful or wonderful, as a work of Divine
power, because it is developed from a little acorn, in which none of
its properties could be seen by the keenest eye, than if it were formed
in a moment, with all its gnarled boughs and graceful foliage complete. There may be minds which would regard the work of crea tion as most worthy of the Almighty, if a vast number of larger and of
smaller globes were called into being suddenly in their actual form,
and then placed at their several distances, and set in motion around
each other and their own axes, by so many distinct and independent
impulses of the Creator's hand. But the same principle would seem
to involve the consequence that every form of vegetable, animal, and
human life would also have been introduced at one and the same
moment; and the six days' interval in Genesis, and the long periods
of geology, would be alike excluded, as disguising the simple energy
of Omnipotence.  The view, it seems to us, is equally magnificent,
and rather more consistent with the analogies just named; that mat ter may have been created in a state in which its future harmonies
~ 268
381 
ACARUS CROSSII:
Weekes, by which, as is alleged, a small insect (Acarus
Crossii or Acarus Galvanicus) was generated through a
voltaic battery in a saturated solution of the silicate of
potash or the nitrate of copper, or the ferrocyanate of potassium. This supposed discovery was made in 1837, by
Mr. Andrew Crosse, and was first published in detail in the
Transactions of the London Electrical Society.* Experiments, tending to the same result, were made in 1841-2 by
Mr. W. A. Weekes, and published in the same journal.t
Now, it is not for me to go into a technical examination
of the experiments by which Mr. Crosse and Mr. Weekes
were led to the conclusion stated above. It is sufficient,
and it is far more appropriate, to quote the opinion, on this
very issue, of men of acknowledged scientific authority.
The discovery in question is supposed to have been made in
were not conspicuous, though all virtually involved in the conditions
first assigned it; and that the wisdom of the Creator may be shown
by its gradual development, under the laws He had given, into a state
receptive of higher modes of being; while every step in the upward
ascent, from mere matter to the vegetable, from the vegetable to the
animal, the lower animals to man, from man defectible, and then
actually fallen, to man redeemed and glorified, needs the immediate
interposition of the great Lord and Master of the universe. Such
is the view implied in the Essay, and more plainly advocated in
other works of its author; and the attempt to confound it with the
virtual atheism of the'Vestiges' evinces a serious defect either of
Christian candor or critical discernment."  (London  Christian  Observer, July, 1855, p. 47.)
* Vol. from 1837 to 1840, p. 11.
Vol. from 1841 to 1843, pp. 240, 391.
382
~ 268 
A MISTAKE.
1838. Since 1842, no additional facts have been educed,
though the subject has received severe and continued scrutiny on the part of a body of observers, many of them by
no means prejudiced against the truth of the hypothesis.*
* Since the above was written, the alleged discoveries of M. Pnuchet, Professor of Zoology at Rouen, have been brought to the
author's notice.  MI. Pouchet claims to have "seen  cryptogams
and animalcules to be produced in vessels when every organic
germ has been previously destroyed, and when the air had been
washed in sulphuric acid or had traversed a tube of porcelain heated
to a red heat. He has even succeeded in developing organic beings
in artificial air and also in pure oxygen." The details of one of his
experiments are as follows:-A flask, holding a litre, was filled with
boiling water, then hermetically sealed with the greatest precaution,
then inverted in a mercury trough; then, when the water is cold, it
was opened under the mercury, and half a litre of pure oxygen introduced. Immediately after, was added to it, under the mercury, a
small box of hay weighing ten grammes, which had just been raised
in a flask, by means of a stove, to a temperature of 100~ C., and kept at
this temperature for thirty minutes. The flask was then hermetically sealed by the aid of its stopper ground with emery; and to
make it sure, when taken from the mercury, a coat of varnish and
vermilion was put over the aperture. Eight days afterwards, small
globules were found in the liquid and on the hay. On opening the
flask at the end of ten days, the oxygen appeared to have remained
pure. The whitish globules were due to a fungus in tufts, which
Sir. Montagne, the micrographer, called Asperyillus Pouchetii.
A plant is thus developed in a medium from which it was endeavored to exclude every species of organic germ; but the conclusion
of M. Pouchet is quite too general, as no facts prove that every kind
of vitality was destroyed during the exposure of the hay for thirty
minutes to 100~ C.
In addition to this, it is observed, as is mentioned by the journal
~ 268
383 
ACARUS CROSSI1:
Let us see, then, what, after the lapse of twenty years, is
the accepted conclusion with regard to this phenomenon.
~ 269. First, let me cite from Mulder's " Chemistry of
Vegetable and Animal Physiology," of which the edition
before me is that of Mr. J. F. W. Johnston, published in
London in 1849, at a period when the alleged "Acarus
Crossii" was fresh before the scientific eye. "What we
know," says this author, "of the acarus scabiei, the filaria
aracunculus, the echino-cocci, and a great many other entozoa, shows that they may be produced from ordinary organic
molecules in the animal body, as every small organic globule
of mucus, for instance, or of milk, or of pus, etc. is formed."
"The idea of an ovum, therefore, coincides exactly with
that of an organic molecule; that is, of such a molecule as
consists of elements which may exhibit themselves under a
change of circumstances in infinite modifications, may form
new combinations, attract other elements, incorporate them,
unite into definite compounds, and thus separate from other
bodies with which they were originally combined."  "The
idea of an ovum is thus reduced in truth to that of an
organic molecule; and the dispute as to equivocal generation and epigenesis is at an end."*
last quoted, that it is shown "by the experiments of Schultze and
Schwann, as well as by those of Schroeder and Dusch," "that animal substances do not ferment when they are inclosed in air which
has previously traversed a red hot tube," "and that these same substances may be preserved indefinitely in air which has previously
been made to pass through a tube containing cotton." (Sillimnan's
Journ., March, 1859, p. 253.)
* Mulder's Chemistry, etc. Lond. ed., 1849, p. 77-8.
384
~ 269 
A MISTAKE.
I have next the third edition of Dr. Carpenter's "Principles of Physiology," issued in London in 1851.  "It may
be considered," says this authoritative writer, "as a fundamental truth of Physiological Science, that every living
organism has had its origin in a pre-existing organism.
The doctrine of'spontaneous generation,' or the supposed
origination of organized structures de novo, out of assemblages of inorganic particles, although at different times
sustained with a considerable show of argument, based on a
specious array of facts, cannot now be said to have any
claim whatever to be received as even a possible hypothesis;
all the facts on which it claimed to rest having been either
themselves disproved, or having been found satisfactorily
explicable on the general principle, omne vivtum ex ovo."*
~ 270. Next let us take up a work of great weight and
authority on the special topic of Infusorial Animalcules,
published in London in 1851, by Mr. Andrew Pritchard.
Here, under the title of "the Supposed Method of Manufacturing Infusoria," we have the statement by the author
that the "creatures said to have been thus brought into existence, that have come under my observation, were neither
the most minute nor the most simple in organization."
"That some mistake exists with respect to communicating
vitality to matter by this means, there cannot be a doubt."t
~ 271. Take, also, the Micrographic Dictionary,-a work
* Carp. Phys., ed. Blanchard & Lea, 1851, p. 866. See also remarks of same author on p. 859, in reply to Vestiges of Creation, on
the subject of animal development.
t A History of Infusorial Animalcules, etc., by Andrew Pritchard,
M.R.I.  London: Whittaker & Co., 1852, p. 27.
33
~ 270-271
385 
ORGANIC DEVELOPMENT:
of great exactness  and beauty,-published  in 1856, by
Miessrs. Griffith and Henfrey.*  Here we find all the hypotheses of spontaneous generation successively exploded.t
~ 272. More curt, though not less decisive, is the statement of M. Agassiz, in his late great work, (1858.) "I do
not know what physicists may think about them now, (the
Acari Crossii,) but I know that there is scarcely a zoologist
who doubts they only exhibited a mistake."n
~ 273. Passing, however, these authorities, let us notice
the following points as accounting for the existence of these
animals without resorting to the hypothesis of non-natural
generation:-Life in infusoria of this class can be maintained in strong chemical solutions. We have a striking
illustration of this in Dr. Harvey's contribution to the
Smithsonian Institute, entitled " Nereis Boreali-Americana," published in 1858. In this elaborate and comprehensive paper occurs the following passage:-"A remarkable instance of the action of a minute alga on a chemical
solution was pointed out to me by Prof. Bache, as occurring
in the vessels of sulphate of copper kept in the electrotyping
department of the Coast Survey Office at Washington. A
slender confervoid alga infests the vats containing sulphate
of copper, and proves very destructive. It decomposes the
salt and assimilates the sulphuric acid, rejecting (as indigestible!) the copper, which is deposited round its threads
in a metallic form.   *  *  *  *  Species of the former
* London: John Van Voorst, 1856.
t Ibid., pp. 20, 288; articles Air, Generation.
2 1 Contrib. to Nat. Hist. U. S., p. 9.
386
~ 272-273 
UNSUSTAINED IN FACT.
genus (Oscillatoric) are found even in the boiling waters
of the Icelandic Geysers.   Of the latter (Calothrices) one
species at least, Calothrix nivea, is very common in hot
sulphur springs, and I observed it in great plenty in the
streams running from the inflammable springs at Niagara."*
Some of the same genus, we are afterwards told, "diffuse
life" "in the snows of the Polar regions," and on the "Polar
ice. "t
The creatures produced by Messrs. Crosse and Weekes,
reproduced themselves, in the same chemical solution, by
natural generation. If the solution was not strong enough
to prevent this in the second generation, why was it too
strong to prevent it in the first?  Again, if the parents
were produced by an electric shock, how is it that the
pattern struck by the same mechanism and at the same
blow, varied, in one case a male being produced, and in another a female?
The air contains the eggs or germinal molecules of innumerable forms of animal life, capable of entering into activity whenever they meet with the requisite conditions. If
the chemical solutions used by Messrs. Crosse and Weekes
supplied these conditions, as was proved by life afterwards
continued, the germinating of the Acarus depended only
upon the question whether the surrounding air was freighted
with its eggs. That this was probably so is shown by innumerable productions, without the aid of the voltaic battery, under similar conditions.
Vitality may remain dormant for an indefinite period,
* Dr. Hal'vey's Nereis Boreali-Ame-'icana, p. C.
~ 273
387
t lbid., p. 18.
I'.1 I 
ORGANIC DEVELOPMENT:
ready to be awaked whenever the proper call arrives. In
piercing a well in Maine, forty miles from the sea, sand was
dug up which must have been covered thousands and tens of
thousands of years. It was scattered on the soil, and in the
next season there sprung up the beach-plum, a tree peculiar
to the sea-shore, whose seed must have been covered up with
the sand. Wheat taken from mummies is well known to
form now a distinct species. Flies, or insects which have
been for years dormant in bottles, come to life on exposure
to the air. Raspberry seed, taken from the stomach of a
man who was buried seventeen years before, germinated
when planted.*
On the "development" hypothesis, these animalcules
should be monads, or the rudimental types. They are the
first blows of the "electric force" on matter. But, on the
contrary, they are very complicated little creatures, neither
"minute" nor "simple."  "If," asks Mr. Walker, on this
point, with great force, "Mr. Crosse could begin with the
Articulata and create an Acarus which had no parent, why
may not the Divine Power accomplish as much? If Mr.
Crosse can form both germ and insect by the same process,
why may not the Divine Power form both germ and
mammifer?"t
~ 274. Let us pass, however, to the remaining analogies
relied on by the author of the " Vestiges of Creation."
b2. The tad-pole "develops," he tells us, into a "frog;"
forgetting this change is the growth of each individual of
* Carpenter's Physiology, p. 75.
t God Revealed in Creation, p. 105.
388
~ 274 
HOW  REFUTED.
the frog species, and not the progressive ascent of the species itself. It would be just as correct to cite the accession
of individual beards as a proof of the "development" of the
human race.
c2. To the larva and the butterfly the same remark is
applicable.
d2. The working bee, which may be transformed into the
queen bee, on a particular change of diet, is merely an illustration of a bifurcate structure in a particular species. The
character of a species, to be complete, must include all its
forms; and from this aggregate, in order to be a development, there must be an ascent. Now, in the case of the
queen bee, there is but a subordinate modification, not a
general ascent.
e2. Cultivated plants and tame animals. Hiere there is
no development, but merely a modification; and the plant
or animal, if excluded from human care, reverts back to its
original type.
After considering these points, which are all that the defenders of organic development have adduced, we may well
concur in the position of Dr. Carpenter, "that no higher
type has ever originated through an advance in developmental powers; for although various instances have been
brought forward to justify the assertion that such is possible, yet these instances entirely fail to establish the analogy
that is sought to be drawn from them."*
*, Carpenter's Physiology, p. 869.  See also on this point an interesting article by Professor Dana, in Biblioth. Sac. for 1846, p.
100-2.
33*
~ 274
389 
" DEVELOPMENT:"
b. GENERAL PROPOSITIONS B'Y WHICH THIS THEORY CAN
BE MET.
~ 275. al. No progressive cosmical development.
There is no progressive cosmical development.   The
transformations of the globe, to which geology bears witness, were not symmetrical and gradual, but exceptional
and convulsive, involving a break of continuity, and a new
arrangement of the material before existing.*
~ 276. bl. Premeditation preceded creation.
There is evidence of premeditation prior to creation.
Every prior type is an anticipation of that which is to succeed; all point back to an original comprehensive design
and omnipotent and omniscient designer.   "Enough has
been already said," is the calm summary of Agassiz, "to
show that the leading thought which runs through the successions of all organized beings in past ages is manifested
again in new, in the phases of the development of living
representatives of these different types. It exhibits everywhere the working of the same creative mind, through all
time and upon the whole surface of the globe."t
~ 277. cl. New forms  of life introduced at distinct
periods.
We have specific proof of the introduction at precise
periods not only of new forms of animal life, but of the
reapplication of life itself. 
~ 278. d'. Advance sometimes broken by retrogression.
* See ante, ~ 79, 173.
t Essay on Classification, p. 116. See ante, ~ 32-35.
1 See ante, ~ 78-9.  See also Silliman's Journal, 1858, pp. 204-5.
390
~ 275-278 
HOW  REFUTED.
As the terraces of geology ascend, and higher types appear, this superior order is broken in upon by an increased
number of abnormal and degraded shapes.*
~ 279. el. The rudimental atomis themselves prove contrivaece.
The rudimental atoms are impressed to an eminent degree with the marks of a Creator. We have fifty-four or
fifty-five substances which  are indivisible  and final, and
which form the individual syllables of which the great book
of nature is made up. But each one of these syllables
showvs a contrivance whose exquisiteness appears the more
vividly as we contemplate the vast number of combinations
to which they are adapted. First we have, as the marshaling agents of these atoms, three primary physical forces
polarization, chemical affinity, and cohesion. Then we find,
as the manual by which these marshaling agents are to act,
laws prescribing certain proportions, definite as to num ber and weight, in which alone these atoms unite.t In the
august economy and simplicity by which these elements, in
the various combinations of which they are capable, are
made to serve the almost infinite purposes of cosmical crea tion, we may find additional reason for concurring in the
remarks of Sir John Hiersehel:-" These discoveries effec tually destroy the idea of an external self-existent matter,
* See Hugh Miller, Foot-Prints of the Creator, p. 192, etc.  See
also the theological bearings of these phenomena very strikingly
depicted by Dr. Bushnell, Nature and the Supernat., p. 208.
t Thus oxygen and nitrogen are constructed as follows:-14 of
oxygen to 8 of hydrogen: 14-24; 14-82; 14-40.
~ 279
391 
" DEVELOPMENT:" -
by giving to each of its atoms at once the essential cha racteristics of a manufactured article and a subordinate
agent. "*
~ 280. f'. This prim)ary care presumes a continuing
Providence.
If we assume, as does the development hypothesis, that
each of these atoms contains the generative apparatus for
the production of all future forms of life, then not only is
the argument from contrivance indefinitely strengthened by
the exhibition of so transcendently wonderful an apparatus, but we have increased energy given to the argument
for a continuing special Providence.  Is it probable that a
God with wisdom, forethought, goodness, and power enough
to construct such marvelously delicate and beneficent mechanisms, should, after the creative work is done, retire from
the work of guiding and guarding that which was thus carefully made?t
~ 281. gl. Physicalforces involving a director.
Physical forces, themselves incapable of action unless
directed by intelligence, have from time to time operated
"to work out a condition of things which evince the presiding agency of the Divine mind, adjusting all the changes
from first to last in view of a future definite end."J
~ 282. hi. Creations exhibiting reciprocal adaptations.
Creations, widely distinct in time, and having no connec
* See God Revealed in Creation, p. 32, by Mr. Walker, a book to
which the reader is referred, as containing an able elucidation of
this special topic.
t See ante, ~ 234-5.   + Walker's God Revealed in Creation, p. 78.
392
~ 280-282 
HOW  REFUTED..,
tion as to organic life, so fit in and adapt themselves to each
other as to make one the complement of the other. Take,
as an illustration of this, the juxtaposition, through the
agency of widely separate creations, of coal, lime, and iron,
in those neighborhoods and climate, where they would be
most needed and most likely to be worked.*
~ 283.  il. "Development"  makes  "matter,"  create
"mind. "
The development hypothesis, like pantheism, involves the
absurdity of matter creating mind.t
~ 284. kl. A first cause still remains.
The clock that goes a hundred years, requires winding
up as much as one that goes a day. There is this distinction, however. The argument from contrivance increases
as we increase the period during which the clock runs without being rewound.
"Nor can any such theory," says the author of the Grey son letters, "really affect the question of Theism at all; if,
indeed, such rare'transformations,' and'transmutations,'
and'developments' of organized beings, as it supposes,
(were there but any proof of them,) ought not rather to
enhance the proof of Divine power and intelligence. Surely
such transmutations not less require power and intelligence
than the received hypothesis of successive creations; for,
even if the elements of the material universe, if matter
itself, be supposed eternal, it can never be proved that the
properties and laws in virtue of which it has been'deve loped' into such wondrous results inherently belong to it;
t See ante, ~ 260.
~ 283-284
393
* See ante, ~ 70.
11 "I1 
" DEVELOPMENT." 
or that if some properties did belong to it, a chance medley combination or blindly necessary application of them
would make such a symmetrical and harmonious universe.
If A, B, and C be all stamped by their respective signatures
of design, it were strange to suppose that that inference is
invalidated, because C came from B, and B from A."
The "churn" by which the fluid of the milky-way is made
up into stars, requires the application of an intelligent
motive power, at least as much as if those stars were worked
up by hand.
The "monad" that contains the germs of all future existences of the same family, shows a care at least as minute, a
prevision at least as searching, a scheme of government at
least as comprehensive, as is exhibited in a special continuous providence, giving to each birth its impulse, and each
event its particular direction.
The author of the "Vestiges of Creation" himself, is
careful-and it is believed sincerely-to disavow the antitheistic inferences so generally attributed to his scheme.   In
point of fact, he himself finds an original motive power
essential to make "development," more plausible.   "The
electric spark," he tells us, "struck life into an elementary
and reproductive germ; and sea-plants, the food of animals,
first decked the rude pavement of the sea."*
* Observe on this point, the following passage from the "Westminster Review" for April,  1858, which  may  be considered as
abandoning the whole of the anrti-theistic inference from the development hypothesis:-" It remains only to point out that while the
genesis of the solar system, and of countless other systems like it, is
394
~ 284 
" DEVELOPMENT. "
thus rendered comprehensible, the ultimate mystery continues as
great as ever. The problem of existence is not solved; it is simply
removed farther back. The nebular hypothesis throws no light upon
the origin of diffused matter; and diffused matter needs as much
accounting for as concrete matter. The genesis of an atom is not
easier to conceive than the genesis of a planet. Nay, indeed, so far
from making the universe less wonderful than before, it makes it
more wonderful. Creation by manufacture, is a much lower thing,
than creation by evolution. A man can put together a machine, but
he cannot make a machine develop itself. The ingenious artisan,
able as some have been so far to imitate vitality as to produce a
mechanical piano-forte player, may in some sort conceive how, by
greater skill, a complete man might be artificially produced; but he
is totally unable to conceive how such a complex organism gradually
arises out of a minute structureless germ. That our harmonious
universe once existed potentially as formless diffused matter, and has
slowly grown into its present organized state, is a far more astonishing fact than would have been its formation after the artificial
method vulgarly supposed. The nebular hypothesis implies a first
cause as much transcending' the mechanical god of Paley,' as this
does the fetish of the savage."
TIHE END.
~ 284
395