Chapter VII The Allegation That No Testimony Can Prove the Truth of a Supernatural Event
Hume’s position, which affirmed that it is impossible to prove the truth of a supernatural event by any amount of testimony however strong, is certainly one of the most plausible that have ever been assumed by unbelief. Stated briefly and in his own words, it is as follows: “A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle from the nature of the fact is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined.” Again: “No testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle unless the testimony is of such a kind that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish.” The fallacy of these positions, notwithstanding the plausible arguments by which they are supported, has already been pointed out by a multitude of writers. Mr. Mill himself has practically abandoned Hume’s argument as either a harmless truism, or, in another point of view, one that requires to be modified to such an extent as to deprive it of any real cogency. Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, it might be passed over in silence.
But the author of “Supernatural Religion” has endeavoured to rehabilitate it even against Mr. Mill. He affirms that Christian “Apologists find it much more convenient to evade the simple but effective arguments of Hume, than to answer them; and where it is possible, they dismiss them with a sneer, and hasten on to less dangerous ground.” He then endeavours to show that Mr. Mill has been partly misapprehended, and is partly inaccurate; and he proceeds to address himself to Paley’s argument against Hume, as though it was relied on by modern apologists as entirely conclusive. No other writer is even noticed by him. In the recent work of the late Mr. Warington, “Can I believe in miracles?” one chapter is devoted to the calm and dispassionate examination of Hume’s argument. It is perhaps the ablest dissection of it in existence. Yet this writer, who charges Christian apologists with evasion, and even with getting rid of its force by a sneer, has left Mr. Warington’s crushing reply to Hume completely unnoticed. The position taken by him renders a few general observations necessary. As it will be useless to repeat arguments that have been fully elaborated elsewhere, I shall content myself with briefly stating the positions which have been firmly established on this subject.
First: Experience consists of two kinds; 1st, That which has fallen under our own direct cognizance, which from the nature of the case must have been very limited. 2dly, The general experience of all other men, as far as we have the means of knowing it. This latter experience we become acquainted with exclusively by testimony, and it rests entirely on its validity. The two together constitute what we mean when we say that a thing is, or is not, contrary to experience.
Secondly: There is a sense in which miracles are contrary to our experience. They would be destitute of all evidential value, if they were not so. But while this is freely admitted, we must lay down clearly in what sense we use the words. They are not so, in the sense that we have had direct evidence of their non-occurrence. They are contrary to our experience only in the sense that we have never witnessed them, and that the order of events which we have witnessed is always different; for instance, we have witnessed as a matter of experience that men die, and that none return again to life; or that blind men, when cured, are never cured by a word or a touch. In this sense alone it is that the resurrection of a dead man, and the cure of a blind man by a touch, is contrary to our experience.
Thirdly: It is not true that an occurrence which in this sense is contrary to our experience cannot be believed on adequate testimony. If it were so, all additions to our knowledge that lie beyond the limits of our past experience, ought to be rejected. Every extraordinary occurrence must be at once pronounced incredible.
Fourthly: The experience of one age differs from that of another. That which lies outside the experience of one century becomes within the experience of the next. The truth is that the sum of human experience is receiving continual additions, in proportion as the sphere of observation enlarges. If it is true that we ought to reject everything contrary to experience, it follows that if many of the inventions of the present age had been reported in a previous one, they ought to have been rejected as incredible. For example: if a century ago it had been affirmed that a message had actually been conveyed one thousand miles in five minutes, the assertion ought on this principle to have been rejected as contrary to the universal experience of mankind. In an earlier age, no miracle could have been more difficult to believe. Yet although contrary to prior experience, it has been established as a fact. The principle, therefore, as laid down by Hume, leads to an absurd conclusion.
Fifthly: The experience of each individual is limited by his own observation and what he has learned respecting that of others. This constitutes as far as he is concerned the experience of mankind. Now, under the Equator the experience of man is that each day and night is twelve hours long. Neither he, nor his ancestors, nor any person whom he trusts, have ever had any other experience than this. To him, therefore, the affirmation that there is a place on the earth where each day and night is six months long, is contrary to experience, and ought to be rejected as a fable.
Sixthly: If we confine experience to scientific experience, extraordinary discoveries are made and facts established in one age which are contrary to that of a former one. On this principle, the ground on which Herodotus rejected the story of the Phœnician navigators that they had sailed round Africa was satisfactory. It was contrary to his experience that they should have seen the sun in the position in which they affirmed that they had seen it, though it is not contrary to ours.
Seventhly: Miracles viewed as mere phenomena stand on exactly the same ground as very unusual occurrences, or very wonderful discoveries. As far as they are contrary to past experience, they are alike credible or incredible. They are events of which the cause is unknown, but may or may not hereafter be discovered. It is quite true that any extraordinary phenomenon requires a stronger testimony to render it credible than an ordinary occurrence. But this involves no question of abstract possibility or impossibility, but is one purely of evidence, each case having to be decided on its own merits. It must be carefully observed that when we affirm that this or that matter lies within human knowledge, or is contrary to it, experience has to do with phenomena alone. All questions of causation lie entirely beyond its cognizance.
Eighthly: The moment we view an event otherwise than as a mere phenomenon, and take into consideration the causes producing it, however unusual it may be, it is impossible to affirm that it is contrary to experience. When we take these into consideration the entire character of the event is at once changed, and the probability of the occurrence must be estimated on wholly different grounds. Under such circumstances, an extremely improbable event, which we might otherwise justly reject as contrary to experience, becomes simply one of which we have had no experience. Thus it is contrary to experience that men can live for one hour under water, but when we take into consideration and thoroughly understand the contrivance of the diving-bell, the event becomes one of a different order from that of which we supposed that we had experience. Before this apparatus was invented, the assertion that men could live an hour under water would have been rejected as fabulous. The invention has introduced a fresh condition into the case. The event has now become a portion of our experience; but prior to the discovery of the apparatus it was merely an event lying outside our experience, and not to be rejected as being contrary to it. In a similar way, a miracle, as a mere phenomenon, may be said to be contrary to our experience; but the moment that we take into account its true character, viz. that its very conception implies the presence of a force of some kind with which we were previously unacquainted, then such an event is no longer one which we can pronounce contrary to our experience, but merely one which lies beyond or outside it. In the case of miracles, therefore, the position of Hume is inapplicable.
Ninthly: It is not true that in estimating the truth of testimony, we simply balance probability, against probability, as stated in Hume’s argument. The form in which it has been put by him is too abstract to admit of application to individual cases; nor does any man, in estimating the truth of testimony for practical purposes, set down and deliberately balance probabilities against probabilities. The whole process is of a far more instantaneous character, and a number of minute considerations are involved, which do not admit of statement in the form of general propositions. Thus, if an event lying outside my present experience is reported to me by a friend on whose veracity and powers of judgment I have implicit reliance, I accept the truth of his statement, notwithstanding a great degree of abstract improbability; it being assumed that the event was one in which it was impossible that he should be deceived. In estimating this latter point, we never balance the probabilities as to the truth or falsehood of human testimony, but we consider the individual circumstances of the case, whether they are of such a nature that our friend could be deceived about them. If on consideration we are convinced that deception was impossible, we yield assent to his known veracity, although, as far as we know, the event reported by him has never before come within the range of human experience.
Let me remove the question from an abstract into a concrete form. There are numberless events in which it happens that men of unquestionable judgment and veracity are deceived. There are others in which no deception can be possible. An instance of one class is the alleged case of persons living a considerable time without food. Here astuteness may impose on the vigilance of the most wary. Take, on the other hand, the case of a man born blind. One informant, on whose veracity we have the fullest reliance, tells us that he has known the man from his birth; that, up to a certain day, his blindness was established beyond all reasonable doubt to every one who knew him, that on that day, he saw a person touch the eyes of the blind man, who not only instantly received his sight, but could use his eyes as perfectly as those who had enjoyed the use of them from birth. I admit that this case is a supposed one, and does not exactly represent any case recorded in the Gospels. But though an assumed one, it is perfectly valid for the purposes of argument. In it deception would be impossible. If all this was affirmed to have come under the direct knowledge of one, of whose veracity and judgment we were assured, we should accept his statement as true, without balancing the abstract probability of the truth of evidence against the probability of its falsity, although the event narrated lay outside the range of our experience. Our knowledge of the judgment and veracity of the informant is the essential element in judging of the truth of evidence. It is only when our means of forming this judgment are deficient that we attempt to balance abstract probabilities.
Tenthly: The question of the truth of testimony as against past experience and the alleged greater probability that testimony should be false, than that past experience should be unreliable, is greatly modified by the consideration that an overwhelming amount of the sum total of past experience rests for its acceptance on the validity of testimony itself. That portion which is not the result of our own individual experience rests for its truth exclusively on the validity of human testimony, and must be unreliable in proportion as testimony is invalid. It must be observed, however, that I by no means deny that testimony is much more frequently invalid in its narrations of extraordinary events than of ordinary ones.
Eleventhly: While it is freely conceded that the evidence to prove the truth of a very extraordinary occurrence must be far stronger than that which is required to prove an ordinary one, it must never be forgotten that the amount of evidence necessary to prove any particular fact always varies with the amount of the antecedent probability of its occurrence. The very same action may be credible or otherwise, just in proportion as we can discern an adequate purpose for its performance, or infer the presence of a particular motive. If, for example, it were reported that a man of the highest character had been seen during the hours of early morning issuing from one of the lowest haunts of vice in London, those who knew him well would require an overwhelming amount of evidence to establish the truth of the assertion. They would undoubtedly fall back on the question of abstract probability, and argue that it was more likely that it was either a case of mistaken identity (a very common error), or a deliberate falsehood, than that the statement should be true. But, if, on the contrary, it could be shown that he had been sent for to visit a dying person, and had gone at his particular request, the whole of the antecedent improbability would vanish, and the otherwise incredible testimony would become perfectly credible. It follows, therefore, that the credibility of testimony varies with our knowledge of the motive for the performance of the action.
This consideration ought to have due weight in considering the evidence of miracles. Viewed as mere phenomena, their abstract improbability is great. When they are viewed as deviations from the ordinary course of nature, their improbability becomes still greater. But those who believe in the existence of a personal God energizing in the universe at every moment, and in every place, postulate the presence of a force fully adequate to work them, for this is involved in the idea of God. But the question arises, Will He? Until a well-attested miracle has actually been performed, the antecedent probability derived from our experience of the order of nature is against the supposition that He will, and throws on the reporter the necessity of giving a stronger proof than we require for an ordinary fact. But in proportion as we can show that it is probable that God will make a revelation, the antecedent improbability of a miracle is diminished; and if it can be shown that it is very probable that He will do so, it wholly disappears.
It will be readily admitted that such an argument can only have weight with a believer in the existence of a God, who is the moral Governor of the Universe. To him, however, it is of the utmost value, for on the supposition in question, the probability of some higher manifestation of the divine character than that displayed in the material universe does not rest on theory, but on the facts of man and his condition. Looking at the past history of the world, it is matter of fact that God has made higher and higher manifestations of himself. So far it is antecedently probable that He will continue to do so. His last manifestation has been in the production of a being possessed of a moral nature, with powers capable of immense elevation. It is also no theory, but a fact, that this moral being now is, and ever has been within the historical periods in a state of great imperfection. It is therefore highly probable that the Creator will adopt means for elevating the moral being whom He has created, and that He will effect this by acting, not on matter, but on mind. Contemplating the actual state of man, the known law of the Creator’s previous action, and the moral character of God, the antecedent probability that God will make a further manifestation of himself is established quite independently of the facts or assertions in the Bible.
Twelfthly: Whatever be the supposed antecedent improbability of an occurrence, it is capable of being overcome by an amount of evidence which can leave no reasonable doubt in a mind endowed with common sense. Theoretical objections may be adduced against any evidence which can be brought in proof of particular facts, but the ultimate appeal must be, not to a multitude of abstract theories, but to the common sense of mankind. Of this character is all historical evidence. It rests on the same principles as those which guide us in the affairs of daily life. There is a certain amount of evidence which leaves no doubt on the common sense of mankind, although it may be open to many theoretical objections. Such evidence is capable of proving a fact against a very high degree of antecedent improbability. Mr. Mill may be considered as a witness whose predilections were all in favour of unbelief. Yet his clear logical mind has led him to state the case fairly as far as the à priori probability or improbability of miracles is concerned. His conclusions are adverse to the position assumed by the author of “Supernatural Religion.” I will briefly state the most important of Mr. Mill’s positions.
First. He points out that a miracle involves nothing contradictory to any law of causation. He well remarks that to prove such a contradiction, it is not only necessary that the cause should exist without producing the effect, but that no contravening cause should be present. But the very idea of a miracle presupposes an adequate contravening cause, i.e. God. The possibility of a miracle therefore cannot be denied on the ground that it does not presuppose the presence of a force adequate to produce it. Mr. Mill states, “Of the adequacy of that cause, if present, there can be no doubt, and the only antecedent improbability that can be objected to a miracle, is the improbability that any such cause existed,” that is to say, the whole controversy resolves itself into the question between Pantheism and Atheism on the one hand, and Theism on the other.
Secondly. He observes: “All therefore that Hume has made out, and this he must be considered to have made out, is, that (at least in the imperfect state of our knowledge of natural agencies, which leaves it always possible that some of the physical antecedents may have been hidden from us) no evidence can prove a miracle to any one who did not previously believe in the existence of a being or beings with supernatural power, or who believes himself to have full proof that the character of the being whom he recognises is inconsistent with his having seen fit to interfere on the occasion in question. If we do not already believe in supernatural agencies, no miracle can prove to us their existence. The miracle itself, considered as an extraordinary fact, may be satisfactorily certified by our senses, or by testimony; but nothing can ever prove that it is a miracle: there is still another possible hypothesis, that of its being the result of some unknown cause; and this possibility cannot be so completely shut out, as to leave no alternative but that of admitting the existence of a being superior to nature. Those, however, who already believe in such a being have two hypotheses to choose from, a supernatural and an unknown natural agency; and they have to judge which of the two is the most probable in this particular case.”
It is impossible to deny that this is a correct statement of the question. Hume’s position is a generalized statement, that no evidence can establish the reality of a miracle, on the ground that our experience of the uniformity of nature’s laws is so firm and unalterable, that no amount of testimony can establish a fact in opposition to it; or as he elsewhere puts it, “unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish.” He affirms this to be equally true on the principles of Atheism, Pantheism, or Theism, for the only thing that he takes into account is the inadequacy of the testimony, and not the inadequacy of the cause. Mr. Mill therefore says correctly that all that this argument avails to prove is, that it is impossible to prove a miracle, except to persons who are already convinced that a being or beings exist who are possessed of supernatural powers, and that it is in conformity with their character to work one. If this is the only intelligible meaning of Hume’s position (and it is evident that it is), it reduces his argument against miracles to a very harmless one. The conception of a miracle as distinct from an unusual phenomenon implies purpose. Purpose is only conceivable of a being possessed of personality and will. To those therefore who either deny the existence of any such being higher than man, or who affirm that we have no evidence of his existence, it is impossible to prove a miracle as a miracle. The utmost that could be done would be to prove that an event had taken place in nature which in the present state of our knowledge could be assigned to no known cause. In such a case the Pantheist and the Atheist have always the alternative of believing that the event in question must be due to the operation of some unknown force in nature, but which in the gradual development of knowledge we may hereafter be able to detect. This is a position that no defender of revelation worthy of the name can be anxious to dispute. Let it further be observed that Mr. Mill does not deny, but affirms, that the occurrence of an extraordinary event analogous to a miracle viewed simply as a phenomenon, may be satisfactorily certified by our senses or by testimony. To affirm the contrary would be simply absurd, as involving the stereotyping of human thought, and making the wisdom of our ancestors the only standard of truth. There was a time when the earth was believed to be an extended plain. If at that time any one had asserted that by continually sailing westward he had at last arrived at the place from which he started, or, in other words, had circumnavigated the globe, this affirmation ought to have been rejected, not only as founded on testimony contrary to all previous experience, but as intrinsically impossible. Yet if Hume’s dictum has any value as an argument against the possibility of a miracle, it must affirm the impossibility of establishing such an occurrence by any amount of evidence whatever. Mr. Mill’s mind was far too logical not to perceive that such a position is altogether untenable.
Mr. Mill, however, affirms that there is one ground on which the argument might be tenable against a theist, not because the evidence is insufficient to prove the occurrence of an extraordinary fact, as a mere phenomenon, but because it could not prove it to be a miracle. It is not only necessary, says he, in order to render this proof valid, that one should believe in the existence of a supernatural being who is able to bring about the occurrence, but also that “the character of this Being is not inconsistent with his having seen fit to interfere on the occasion in question.” Thus a man may be a believer in the existence of God, and yet be persuaded that it was not consistent with his character to interfere with the course of natural phenomena at all, or in such a manner as the conception of a miracle pre-supposes. To such a theist the utmost that evidence could prove would be, that the extraordinary event had been brought about by the action of an unknown force. Again, the same principle acts, and acts reasonably, on the minds of multitudes of intelligent Christians, who summarily reject a certain class of reported miracles without inquiring into their evidence, on the ground that the working of such miracles is inconsistent with their conceptions of the divine character; that is to say, they think it more probable that the stories should be untrue, than that God should work in the way in question. But to give this argument any validity against the miracles wrought in attestation of Christianity, it must be proved that it is inconsistent with the divine character to make a revelation, or to introduce a deviation from what is to us the ordinary mode of His working; or that the miracles recorded in the Gospels are repugnant to the character of God.
Mr. Mill’s general position is therefore incontrovertible, that those who believe in the existence of God “have two hypotheses to choose from, viz. a supernatural, or an unknown natural agency;” and that they must judge which of these two is the more probable; and that, in forming their judgment, a most important consideration must be the character of God, and the conformity of the supposed event to that character. This position every intelligent Christian will readily accept.
Mr. Mill adds: “But with the knowledge which we now possess of the general uniformity of the course of nature, religion, following in the wake of science, has been compelled to acknowledge the government of the universe, as being on the whole carried on by general laws, and not by special interpositions. To whosoever holds this belief, there is a general presumption against any supposition of divine agency, not operating through general laws; or, in other words, there is an antecedent improbability in every miracle, which in order to outweigh it, requires an extraordinary strength of antecedent probability derived from the special circumstances of the case.” These observations require consideration.
There is no doubt that the polytheistic religions postulated the existence of a vast number of superhuman beings by whose agency and caprice many natural occurrences were brought about. Such a belief indicates a very imperfect conception of “order” in nature. But these supposed interferences with it would by no means realize the notion of what we now designate a miracle, the very idea of which implies an order in nature to which the miracle forms an exception. If there is no order in nature, there can be no miracle.
The Hebrew monotheism involved conceptions directly opposite to this. It viewed the action of God as the foundation of all the forces in nature. Whilst above and outside nature, He was everywhere present in nature. Its forces were the expressions of the energy of His will. Its order (for the Hebrew recognised a high order in nature) was the result of His good pleasure, and due to His constant working. In the Old Testament the commonest events in nature are no less ascribed to God than those which we designate miraculous. A Hebrew never conceived of a miracle as a deviation from the divine order, but as a consistent carrying out of a divine purpose in the government of the world. A modern conception of theism differs from this in supposing that there are certain forces in material nature which, when once called into action, go on energizing without any direct intervention of God. But when this conception comes to be minutely analysed, if we believe in a God, it is impossible to conceive of force, at least in its ultimate form, except as a direct expression of the divine energy.
Science has so far modified religious thought on this subject, that while it still continues to hold that the various forces in nature are modes of the divine acting, it nevertheless believes that God does not deviate from his predetermined course for the purpose of meeting what we are pleased to call special contingencies. The divine action is, in fact, not altered to meet man’s convenience, and His government is carried on as far as it lies within our cognisance by the general forces of nature. God acts in nature in conformity with a definite law, and from that He will not deviate, whatever consequences man’s ignorance or disregard of his mode of action may bring upon him. Mr. Mill observes that to any person holding this belief, there is a general presumption against any supposition of divine agency, not operating through general laws. That is to say, we have had a constant experience of his acting through general laws; and no experience of his acting otherwise. But the idea of a revelation introduces a factor into the case, entirely different from anything of which we have had previous experience. It forms part of a great purpose existing in the divine mind, and is in its nature analogous to the first introduction of life, or the first creation of a free moral agent. Respecting the laws by which God regulates his creative acts, we are ignorant. Yet the theist firmly believes in creative acts of some kind, and that they are regulated by law. In this ignorance of God’s law of creation, it is impossible to affirm that it is antecedently improbable that in making a fresh manifestation of himself, he will operate only through those general laws, which are the ordinary manifestations of his will.
There is some want of clearness in Mr. Mill’s expression, that in order to outweigh the antecedent improbability of miracles, arising from those modes of the divine action which fall within the limits of our experience, an extraordinary strength of antecedent probability, derived from the special circumstances of the case, is required. If by this antecedent probability he means something such as has been above referred to, there can be no objection to his statement. He ought to have observed, however, that the antecedent improbability which may be supposed to belong to miracles, only attaches to them while contemplated as phenomena, and that such an improbability readily yields to positive evidence. This is virtually admitted in a subsequent sentence. “According as this circumstance, viz. the unknown cause, not having previously manifested itself in action, or the falsity of the testimony, appears more improbable; that is, conflicts with an approximate generalization of a higher order, we believe the testimony or disbelieve it with a stronger or weaker degree of conviction, according to the preponderance, at least until we have sifted the matter further.” “This,” says the author of “Supernatural Religion,” “is precisely Hume’s argument, weakened by the introduction of reservations which have no cogency.” We say, this is precisely what Hume’s argument is not, for, if it be valid, the whole question of miracles may be summarily dismissed without any inquiry into the evidence on which they rest.
Still, however, as the author affirms and endeavours to prove that Mr. Mill’s position leave Hume’s argument untouched, a few further observations will be necessary. Hume’s statement is, “A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature, and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle from the nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience which can possibly be imagined.”
I reply, that the conception of a miracle does not involve any necessary violation of the laws of nature. All that it implies is the presence of another force different from those which have come under our cognisance: and this may act so as to produce the miracle without violating one of nature’s laws. But, it is added, “uniform and unalterable experience has established these laws.” What has this experience really established? It is this, and this only, Given the presence of certain forces, and no others, certain results invariably follow. But experience cannot tell us anything, as to what would be the law of nature, if some other force were in action; nor is it able to say one word as to the non-existence of any force which has not come under its observation. Abstractedly, it is true that the argument against a miracle is as entire as any argument from experience can be imagined, because experience really supplies us with no basis for argumentation in the case. Prior to the invention of railways and the discovery of the uses to which steam can be applied, the argument from experience was equally valid against the possibility of travelling in a carriage not propelled by animal force. In each case a new force enters into the conditions, of which experience is unable to take cognisance.
“Why is it more probable that all men must die?” asks this writer, “or that lead cannot of itself remain suspended in the air; or that fire consumes wood, and is extinguished by water, unless it be that these events are found agreeable to nature, and there is required a violation of its laws, or in other words, a miracle, to prevent them?” I answer that it is probable that all men must die, because we observe under the action of the known forces of nature that all men do die. But this says nothing as to what must take place if another force was present; or a combination of existing forces was discovered sufficiently potent to counteract the action of those which in the present state of things bring about the dissolution of man’s frame. There is no necessity, for the purpose of effecting this, that one of the existing forces should be suspended. The time was, when certain forms of disease invariably resulted in death. The advance of medical science has averted this result. Ought the discovery to have been rejected because it pretended to produce a fact contrary to prior experience? Are any of the laws of nature violated, or are its forces suspended in such a case? What has taken place? Man has discovered agencies which have neutralized the effect of other agencies. Our belief that all men must die rests on the assumption that no force can or will at any future time be brought into action which will counteract the forces now in operation by which that event is produced.
The same remark applies to the other three cases. To the second of them the author has himself supplied the answer: “Lead cannot of itself remain suspended in the air.” Doubtless, it cannot of itself. Who ever supposed that it could? But it can be suspended when a force adequate to counteract that of gravitation is present. So fire will always consume wood, or be extinguished by water, as long as no other forces but the usual ones are in operation. But man has already invented the means of producing combustion under water. No violation of nature’s laws is required in any of these cases. Nor is there any required in a miracle. The fact is, that there is an assumption in all arguments of this kind, which for obvious reasons is not openly avowed, but which alone imparts to them an apparent validity. “No such force can exist,” which translated into other language is identical with the proposition, “There is no God.” To keep this assumption in the background, when the very basis of the argument for miracles is the assumption that there is one, is a course which can lead to no good result.
But the author remarks further: “There must, therefore, be a uniform experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event could not merit that appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a proof, there is hence a direct and full proof from the nature of the fact, against the existence of any miracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed, or the miracle rendered credible, by any opposite proof which is superior.”
Here again we encounter the same faults of reasoning, which amount to a virtual assumption of the point at issue. “There must be a uniform experience against any miraculous event, otherwise it would not merit the appellation—doubtless.” But what is the nature of this uniform experience? Exactly this, that the ordinary forces acting around us being present, and none other, the event has not, and therefore cannot take place. But this is not involved in the idea of a miracle. It assumes the presence of another force, viz. God. But what then? The objector will urge that we have had no experience of the existence of any such force. Is it to be urged, that no force can exist, except those of which we have had experience, or any combination of forces now in action, different from the present? The men of a former century were equally entitled to make the same assumption. If they had done so, it would follow, that if the discoverers of America had found our present railway system in full operation, and reported it to be so, the contemporaries of Columbus would have been justified in treating him as an impostor.
But the author further observes: “Mr. Mill qualifies his admission respecting the effect of the alleged counteracting cause, by the all important words ‘if present;’ for in order to be valid, the reality of the alleged counteracting cause must be established, which is impossible; therefore the objection falls to the ground. No one knows better than Mr. Mill, that the assertion of a personal deity working miracles, upon which a miracle is allowed for a moment to come into court, cannot be proved; and therefore, that it cannot stand in opposition to a complete induction which Hume takes as his standard.”
This passage strikes us as an extraordinary one to have been written by any one who possesses the logical powers of the author. We are dealing with a formal argument with a view of testing its validity, we have the fullest right to test it by a supposed case. That supposed case is the presence of an unknown cause, or an unknown combination of known causes, or the presence of a personal deity. If the argument breaks down under the application of these tests, it is worthless. Does the author mean to say, that it is necessary to prove every assumption to be a fact, before it can be used in argument? How about the assumptions in Euclid? I submit that the reasoning is by no means vitiated by the assumption, and consequently that by the application of the same principles of reasoning, Hume’s argument falls to pieces. In one sense the words “if present” are all important, yet it is not necessary to prove the fact in order to establish the validity of the reasoning, which is entirely independent of the truth of the assumption. Has the author never heard of contingent reasoning in which both antecedent and consequent may be false, but the proposition valid?
“No one knows,” again says the author, “better than Mr. Mill, that the allegation of a personal God working miracles, upon which a miracle is for a moment allowed to come into court, cannot be proved.” It seems then after all that we are reasoning with a person who rejects theism; although he has been dealing with the question on principles which assume its truth. In arguing a question of this kind it is necessary to be consistent, and take our stand either on the principles of theism, or on those of pantheism or atheism, and not to fall back on either as the exigencies of the case demand. Least of all should this be done by a writer who charges the defenders of Christianity with shifting their ground to suit the necessities of their argument.
But is the case correctly stated? No doubt that the conception of a personal God is essential to it. But that of a personal God actually working miracles forms no portion of it. If this were assumed, the entire reasoning would be a petitio principii. We are considering whether miracles are possible; or if, supposing one to be wrought, it can be established by evidence. All that we assume is, that God can work miracles, not that He has wrought them. Whether we can prove by good evidence that He has wrought miracles, is quite independent of the present question.
“No one knows better than Mr. Mill, that the assertion of a personal deity working miracles cannot be proved.” It is perfectly true that Mr. Mill believed that the evidence adduced to prove the being of a personal God was insufficient, and that respecting the origin of all things, nothing can be known. But yet it is impossible to treat the existence of a personal God as a bare assumption. “It is impossible to be proved,” says the author. But to whom? To minds constituted like Mr. Mill’s. The evidence that a personal God exists has appeared irresistible to an overwhelming majority of mankind, including a great majority of minds gifted with equal, and even with greater powers than that of Mr. Mill. One might imagine from the mode in which this point is here represented, that the belief in the existence of a personal God was exploded among all men of intellect, and that the proofs adduced for it were unworthy of attention. Surely the question of miracles has a legitimate place in the court which tries the issue of their truth or falsehood.
One more point requires notice. Hume says, “Though the being, to whom the miracle is attributed be in this case Almighty, it does not on that account become a whit more probable, since it is impossible for us to know the attributes or actions of such a being, otherwise than from the experience which we have of his productions in the usual course of nature.”
This position involves an evident fallacy. It is also one which underlies one or two of the statements of Mr. Mill, whose philosophical theory of necessity was one almost certain to involve him in it. The statement is, that it is impossible to know either the attributes or the actions of such a being, except from our experience of his productions in the course of nature. What is the course of nature here intended? does it include mind as well as matter? If the former is included, and we attain our knowledge of God from that source—and every theist maintains that our chief knowledge of God is derived from it—then the experience we have of man leads us to infer the presence of certain moral attributes in God; and there is nothing in that experience which renders the performance of a miracle inconceivable or impossible—but as far as that experience is concerned, it is rendered antecedently probable. What is included, I again ask, in nature? Are we, the percipient beings ourselves? Whether we are regarded as included or excluded from nature, it is evident that a considerable portion of our knowledge of the divine character is derived from the contemplation of our own being. God is more manifested in our rationality, “personality,” freedom, and conscience, than in the material forces and laws of nature. To perform a miracle therefore is consistent with what we know of His character.
These observations will render it unnecessary for me to examine in detail the writer’s observations on Paley’s arguments against Hume. Even if his arguments are not perfectly conclusive, their failure does not establish the truth of Hume’s positions, or invalidate the refutation of them by others. As the object of this author is to re-establish the validity of Hume’s argument, he ought not to have confined himself to Paley, whose mind was little adapted to the investigation of purely logical or metaphysical questions, but to have noticed the argument of the numerous subsequent writers who have more fully handled the subject.
Chapter VIII. The Objection That The Defenders Of Christianity Assume Certain Facts The Truth Of Which Can Only Be Known By Revelation, And Then Reason From Those Facts To The Truth Of The Bible, Considered.
It has been objected that the very idea of such a revelation as that of Christianity implies a defect on the part of the Creator in the original construction of the Universe, and that He has been under the necessity of interposing for the purpose of correcting this defect. It is affirmed that divines endeavour to prove that a revelation was probable by first assuming a number of the most irrational propositions, which, if true, can only be proved to be so by the authority of the Bible, and then arguing back again that it is highly probable that God would interfere to remedy the defects of his creative work by a supernatural revelation; in other words, that they assume a state of things which reason would pronounce to be incredible, unless their truth was asserted in the Bible, and then argue on the principles of that reason whose validity they deny, that it is probable that the Creator would interfere to remedy a state of things the existence of which reason pronounces to be incredible.
The author of “Supernatural Religion” has strongly urged this argument, and placed the difficulty clearly before us. Although the entire passage is too long for quotation, yet as it is important that we should have the question which he raises before us in his own words, I will cite a portion of it.
“Here again the argument is based on an assumption. The supposition of a divine design in a revelation is the result of a foregone conclusion in its favour, and not suggested by antecedent probability. Divines assume that a communication of this nature is in accordance with reason, and was necessary for the salvation of the human race simply because they believe that it took place, and no evidence worthy of the name is ever offered in support of the assumption. A revelation having, it is supposed, been made, that revelation is consequently supposed to have been contemplated, and to have justified any suspension of the order of nature. The proposition for which evidence is demanded is necessarily employed as evidence for itself. The considerations involved in the assumption of the necessity and reasonableness of such a revelation, however, are antecedently incredible and contrary to reason. We are asked to believe that God made man in His own image, pure and sinless, and intended him to continue so; but scarcely had His noblest work left the hand of his Creator, than man was tempted into sin by Satan, the all-powerful and persistent enemy of God, whose existence and antagonism to a being in whose eyes sin is an abomination, are not accounted for and are incredible. Adam’s fall brought a curse upon the earth, and incurred the penalty of death for himself and for the whole of his posterity. The human race thus created perfect and without sin, thus disappointed the expectations of the Creator, and became daily more wicked, the evil spirit having succeeded in frustrating the designs of the Almighty, so that God repented that he had made man, and at length he destroyed by a deluge all the inhabitants of the earth, with the exception of eight persons who feared him. This sweeping purification, however, was as futile as the original design, and the race of man soon became more wicked than ever.” Here follows a statement of what may be regarded as a plan of salvation as held by some modern Churches, and the apparent contradiction of the whole to the divine character and perfections is elaborately pointed out. He then concludes as follows: “We are asked to believe in the frustration of the divine design of creation, and in the fall of man into a state of wickedness hateful to God, requiring and justifying the divine design of a revelation, and such a revelation as this, as a preliminary to the further proposition that on the supposition of such a design miracles would not be contrary to reason.” To this follows an elaborate piece of reasoning, by which the author attempts to prove that every proposition in this so-called plan of salvation is thoroughly contrary to reason.
The general positions laid down in this passage (omitting points of detail) are as follows: Certain incredible occurrences in the past history of man are assumed by divines to be facts on the authority of the Bible. These include the complete breaking down of the divine plan in the creation of man through the agency of a being who has frustrated the purposes of the Almighty. Next it is asserted on the same authority that another series of events has taken place which are in the highest degree contrary to reason, for the purpose of remedying this failure of the original plan. Then it is alleged that the probability of a divine interference, in order to remedy a state of things which reason pronounces to be incredible, is argued on the authority of reason for the purpose of proving the occurrence of another state of things equally repugnant to reason. Such a line of argument is affirmed to begin in irrational assumptions, and to terminate in a vicious circle.
I have before observed that the work from which the above passage is taken, although entitled “Supernatural Religion, or an inquiry into the reality of Divine Revelation,” is really an attack on the central position of the New Testament, the historical value of the Gospels. In taking this course the author raises an intelligible issue instead of spreading the argument over an endless mass of controversial matter. If the historical character of the Gospels cannot be maintained, the whole controversy as to whether Christianity is a divine revelation is ended. This forms the key of the Christian position, to which the other parts of the controversy stand in the relation of mere outworks. If the events recorded in the Gospels are historical, Christianity must be a divine revelation, notwithstanding the difficulties connected with certain statements of the Old Testament. The real point at issue between those who believe and those who deny that God has made a supernatural revelation of Himself, is confined to the following question: Are the contents of the Gospels historically credible? Is the character of Jesus Christ as depicted in them the delineation of an ideal conception or of an historical reality? The author discerns clearly that this is the turning point of the controversy, and has accordingly addressed himself to prove that the Gospels are valueless as historical documents. This line of argument is candid, and one which, if adhered to, will save an immense expenditure of reasoning power.
Now the question of the historical character of the Gospels is quite distinct from that of the truth or falsehood of any system of Ecclesiastical Christianity, which asserts that its theology is a deduction from the Gospels and the other portions of the New Testament. It is not revelation itself but a system erected by the application of reason to the facts of revelation. It is most important that this distinction should be kept in view. The truth is, that the facts of revelation stand in the same relation to theology as the facts of nature do to physical science. Incorrect reasonings respecting both the one and the other are alike possible. The Ptolemaic theory was propounded as an adequate solution of the facts and phenomena of the universe, and although utterly incorrect in all its parts, it for ages held unlimited sway over the human mind. In a similar manner various theories have been propounded as solutions of the facts of revelation, but it by no means follows because they have attained a wide acceptance that they afford the true solution. In examining the claims of the Gospels to be viewed as historical, it is quite as much out of place to make them responsible for all the theories which Ecclesiastical Christianity has propounded respecting the plan of salvation, as it would be to make the facts and phenomena of the universe answerable for all the theories which have been propounded for their solution. In examining the claims of the Gospels to be accepted as historical documents, it is most unreasonable to make them responsible for theories which were not formulated in the Church until centuries after their publication.
Most of the positions affirmed in the above quotation were not formulated until a late period of the Church’s history. Certainly they are nowhere directly laid down in the New Testament. The utmost which can be asserted of them is, that they are alleged to be derived inferentially from its teaching. They form no portion of the Apostles’ or of the Nicene Creeds, which are the only formularies outside of the New Testament which can be represented as embodying the creed of the universal Church. Nor can they be found even in the Athanasian creed. In discussing the claims of the Gospels to be esteemed as historical, they can only be made fairly responsible for what they actually contain. To bring into such a controversy positions only affirmed in recent attempts to formulate a body of Christian doctrine, as though they had any bearing on the claims of the New Testament to be viewed as containing a divine revelation, can lead to no satisfactory result.
I now return to the consideration of the difficulties above referred to. It is important to take a careful survey of the entire question, because they are not only put with great force in the passage which I have quoted, but I believe that in different forms they weigh heavily on the minds of many thoughtful men. I will first offer a few observations on the general principle.
Nothing is easier than to affirm that the introduction of moral evil into the universe is a marring of the Creator’s plan in its formation. The argument is founded on the supposition that an Almighty God exists, who is wise, holy, and benevolent, and who intended to manifest these attributes through the rational beings which he has created. It is affirmed that the existence of moral evil in man is a failure of this purpose on the part of God. But it is the most certain of facts that moral evil does exist in the world, and that it exists quite independently of Christianity. The objection therefore is not one directed solely against the Christianity of the New Testament, but bears with equal weight against every form of theism, which admits that the universe has been created, and is governed by a God who is almighty, wise, holy, and benevolent.
If there be a God who is the Creator of the Universe, it is clear that He must have been the Creator of man, and that man could only have come into being in conformity with His pleasure. Now, if we decline to admit that man was created morally perfect, yet as he must have been created a moral agent, it is clear that the first man must have sprung into being either with the moral faculties of a savage, or in some intermediate condition between these and a state of moral perfection. It follows, therefore, that man must have been made capable of moral progress. This is affirmed by all those who assert that he was first produced in a savage state. But the possibility of moral progress involves also the possibility of retrogression. The truth of this is borne witness to by the most palpable facts of daily experience. Men of the highest mental powers are capable of abusing them to the worst purposes, and thus of sinking fearfully low in the moral scale. The case of a man like Fouché will illustrate my argument, a man gifted with high intellectual powers, but who sunk into the lowest condition of moral turpitude. Such a man is incomparably worse than the first original savage. I submit, therefore, that whatever view we may take of the condition in which man was originally created, even if he were created a savage, yet he was made a moral being capable of elevation or degradation; and that, to use a human metaphor, the purpose of a holy God must have been his elevation. Yet this involves the possibility of his moral degradation. This degradation has also become a fact. It is clear, therefore, that the difficulty is one which is inseparable from every possible form of theistic belief, and is no peculiarity of Christianity.
I shall not attempt to enter on so profound a question as the origin of evil, and how its existence is consistent with the perfection of a holy God. It is a subject quite beyond the issue before us, and lies not at the foundations of Christianity, but of theism, the truth of which is taken for granted in the objections which the author adduces against the popular view of the scriptural account; for if there is no God the objections are valueless. Still he ought to have informed his readers that it is urged as a partial explanation of those difficulties by the defenders of Christianity, that it is highly probable that the creation of a moral being possessed of free agency, but who at the same time is not capable of sinking into a state of moral degradation, involves as great a contradiction as the conception of a circle which should possess the property of concavity and not of convexity. No rational man believes that it is within the compass, even of omnipotence, to work contradictions. If this be so, it follows that the possibility of the existence of moral evil is a necessary condition of the existence of free agency. The production of a free moral agent capable of yielding a willing obedience to the moral law is a more glorious work than anything in the material universe, even than that universe itself. It might, therefore, have been the good pleasure of the wise, holy, and benevolent Creator to create free moral agents, even if it involved the existence of moral evil. I am far from propounding this as a complete solution of the difficulty, but when it is thus used unsparingly against Christianity, it would have been only candid to have told the reader that it bore with equal weight against every form of theism, and to have given the partial explanation which has been propounded by theologians.
In reply to the definite statements before us, I affirm that nowhere in the Gospels, or in any other portion of the New Testament is it asserted or even implied that revelation was rendered necessary by the frustration of the divine purpose in creation, or that redemption was a kind of afterthought in the divine mind rendered necessary by such a failure. On the contrary, the synoptic Gospels make no affirmation whatever on the subject. The fourth Gospel contains several statements about the end and purposes of the Incarnation, but of a description totally different from those which are alleged in the above quotation to constitute the groundwork of Christianity. As I have already shown, the Gospel of St. John speaks of its great purpose as being a revelation of the moral character of God in the person of Jesus Christ. According to its theology God has already manifested himself in creation; in the Gospel He makes a still higher and nobler manifestation of His moral character in the person of our Lord. The author of the first Epistle ascribed to St. John, whom I must assume to have been the author of the Gospel, makes the following direct affirmation on the subject. “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled of the word of life; for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and show unto you that eternal life which was with the Father and was manifested unto us; that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.” In these words it is evidently the intention of the writer to set forth the divine purpose of the Incarnation. It is true that in other passages he assumes the existence of evil in the universe, and declares it to be the work of the devil, and that one of the purposes of this divine manifestation was its destruction. Still he drops no hint of any failure in the Creation, or that it was the purpose of the Incarnation to mend a marred scheme. On the contrary, the great truth set forth in the Epistle and in the Gospel is that Creation and Redemption form portions of one great whole; and that the latter is a manifestation of the divine glories beyond God’s previous manifestations of himself, whether in creation or in history.
Similar are the views of the Apostle Paul. According to him, while many other purposes were effected by the Incarnation, there is one great purpose running through all divine revelation. In several passages he affirms that its influence extends far beyond that which it exerts on the race of man. He again and again asserts that it was the gradual unfolding of an idea or purpose which existed from eternity in the divine mind. Thus he writes: “And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God who created all things by Jesus Christ, to the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom of God, according to the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Eph. iii. and ix.) “Having made known to us the mystery of His will, according to His good pleasure, which He purposed in Himself, that in the dispensation of the fulness of times He might gather in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and in earth, even in Him.” (Eph. i. 9, 10.) “And having made peace by the blood of His cross, by Him to reconcile all things unto Himself: by Him, I say, whether they be things in earth or things in heaven.” (Col. i. 20.) I fully admit that the Apostle affirms that the design of bringing man into union with God was a portion of this purpose. Nothing however is more foreign to the ideas of St. Paul than that revelation is an afterthought adopted as a remedy for a marred plan.
Nor are the views of the other writers of the New Testament different. St. Peter tells us that the angels desire to look into the redemption wrought by Christ. St. James assures us that, “known unto God are all His works from the foundation of the world.” The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews speaks to the same effect: “God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in times past unto the fathers in (by) the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us in His Son.” So far from its being the idea of the sacred writers that redemption is an afterthought designed to remedy the failure of the original purpose of creation, that both of them are viewed as parts of the same whole; both are purposes which have existed in the divine mind during the eternal ages, and have been gradually evolved in time. Nothing is further from their mind than that the divine mode of working is by fits or starts, or sudden interventions. Man was the last form of life which God has introduced into the world, and in that sense He is said to have rested from His creative work. But God is no less distinctly affirmed to be always working in nature and in providence, so that Sabbath days form no exception: “My Father worketh hitherto and I work.”
Such being the views of the writers of the New Testament on this subject, the whole of those objections, as far as they are founded on the assertion that revelation is intended to remedy the failure of God’s creative purpose, fall to the ground. My present supposition is that I am reasoning with believers in theism. If God has gradually evolved creation, each successive stage of the evolution forms a part of one great and comprehensive whole. At each stage the work is incomplete, but its incompleteness is no proof of failure. A period has existed when the only beings in the world were devoid of rationality. If an objector could have contemplated it in this stage, he might have urged that the plan of creation was a failure, while in reality it was only incomplete. Man came in at the next stage of the great design. The next stage, according to the New Testament, is the Incarnation of the Son of God, intended as a higher manifestation of the moral glories of the Creator for the purpose of raising man to a higher moral and spiritual elevation. To the attainment of this purpose all the previous events in man’s history have been made subservient. Surely those persons with whom I am reasoning ought to be the last to object that there is anything inconsistent with the divine character in such a gradual unfolding of the divine purposes. We might as well object that every advancing stage of the great design of Creation was introduced to remedy a preceding defect as assert that Christianity originated in this cause. The world was in a most unfinished state when it was only tenanted by the lower forms of life, and great fault might have been found with its construction. But a higher came, and a higher, then man, then Christ our Lord, the second Adam, as St. Paul designates him, “from heaven heavenly.” Whatever may have been the assertions of certain classes of theologians who have attempted to fathom the divine mind by their own short sounding line, the sacred writers take no narrow view of the purposes of the Incarnation. It is declared that they will be realized in the yet distant future, towards which consummation they are gradually being carried out in time.
It follows, therefore, that the New Testament affirms that a purpose is consistently carried out in the history of redemption far different from that which has been here placed before us as the assumptions of Ecclesiastical Christianity. The author has placed these in their most objectionable form; and if Christian apologists have affirmed on such premises as those above stated that a divine interposition was rendered probable, I shall not attempt to defend them. To establish the probability of a revelation additional to that afforded by creation we have no occasion to appeal to theories, but to facts.
The existing moral and spiritual condition of mankind is universally admitted to be imperfect. Both believers and unbelievers in revelation alike acknowledge that the attempt to improve it is desirable. No less certain is it that man possesses faculties which can only receive their perfect development in a higher condition of things than the present. These as much point to a higher development of man as the organization of the lower forms of animal life points to the higher and more perfect ones. If, therefore, God be the Creator and moral Governor of the world, a further manifestation of Him is rendered highly probable.
This probability may be reasoned out by analogies in the history of the past. Higher developments from lower forms have been the rule. Are they then to cease with man in his present state of imperfection? How man came to be thus imperfect, how his moral degradation has originated, is a question which does not fall within the present argument. It is a fact, by whatever theory it may be attempted to be accounted for. If a rational being had existed in those ages during which there was manifested nothing but the lower forms of life, and had come to the conclusion that the world as it then existed was the work of an intelligent Creator, he would have pronounced it highly probable that the resources of creative power would yet receive a more glorious manifestation. When vertebrate life was first introduced into the world, a careful examination of the state of things would have led to a similar conclusion. But the lower forms of vertebrate life are typical of the higher, and the higher point to man. Before man entered the world a being capable of comprehending the condition of things as then existing would have pronounced it highly probable that there would be yet a further manifestation of creative energy, and that the work required for its consummation the production of rationality.
Such and far more numerous have been the actual stages of creative action. Are we entitled to call them a failure because they were relatively imperfect, or any fresh intervention of divine power an interference to remedy a previous failure? On the contrary, these so-called interventions are the persistent carrying out of a determined purpose. The acts of Deity are inaccurately designated interventions. He is always working with the most perfect knowledge of the means which He employs, and the most perfect controul over them. Failure with Him is impossible. The word “intervention” as applied to the operations of God conveys the idea of a machine which He originally constructed, and then left to its own operations. Such a machine will in course of time get out of order, or perform its work imperfectly, and require to be supplemented by additional contrivances. Thus when the clock ceases to go there arises a necessity for the intervention of the clockmaker. He constructs his clock and leaves it to itself. But creation is no mere machine; the Divine worker is always present in His works. The last idea which would have occurred to the authors of the Bible was that God was obliged to be making a number of special interventions to cure defects in the results of His operations. As the Bible cannot help using the language of man, expressions derived from the defects of human language are at times used in it, but the one prevalent idea is that God is always present working in the kingdoms of nature and of grace, that all His actions are the constant carrying out of a predetermined purpose, and that with Him is no variableness neither shadow of turning.
If the possibility of the introduction of moral evil into the universe is a necessary condition of the creation of a free moral agent, or in other words, if the contrary supposition involves a contradiction, the Creator must have viewed the production of such a free agent as so desirable, that it formed a part of His purpose to create him notwithstanding this possibility. If then moral evil became a fact, it involved no failure in the purposes of God. He must have viewed the existence of such beings as desirable, even if this contingency became a fact. Why, I ask, may not a further manifestation of Himself, by means of which moral evil might be reduced to the smallest dimensions, or even ultimately removed, while freedom is still preserved, form a portion of the same great purpose of the divine mind? If this be possible, the assertion that Redemption is a special intervention of God for the purpose of remedying the breaking down of his creative plan, is disproved, and with it all the other inferences of the numerous writers whose views I am considering.
In affirming the probability of a revelation, the Christian apologist need not go beyond the region of actual facts. He has no occasion to rest his proof on any statement made by a supposed revelation the truth of which is the point at issue. To do so would be to assume the thing which requires to be proved. But facts as they exist, independently of any statements in the Bible, are quite sufficient. Man exists. He is possessed of powers and aspirations which this state of things does not gratify. He is capable of moral action, and there is something within him which affirms that he ought to obey the moral law. Yet its realization by him is of the most imperfect character. Does the actual condition of man afford satisfaction even to the unbeliever, account for it as he may? Is there not a great amount of moral evil in the world? Do not considerable numbers of men, instead of progressing to higher degrees of moral perfection degenerate through various stages of moral corruption? Does not moral evil cause a great amount of physical suffering? Are not vast numbers of men the prey of ignorance and superstition—great evils doubtless, and of which unbelievers heavily complain? In one word, when we contemplate the present condition of mankind, does not the sternest reason affirm that it is inconceivable that this can be the final condition of God’s creative work? Yet these things are no theories but obvious facts, and on the supposition on which we are reasoning, facts in the universe of God.
It follows therefore, that facts such as these, when contemplated by reason, establish the probability, nay almost the certainty of a further divine action. Of course this is based on the assumption that there is a wise and holy God who is the author of the universe, but both the opponents and believers in revelation can only argue this subject at all on the supposition that God exists. Any fresh mode of divine action will probably differ from the preceding ones, because man exists as a moral and spiritual being. It is therefore probable that such divine action will be moral rather than physical; or, in other words, the divine purpose of creation includes within it a yet further manifestation of the divine character and perfections. This is what the New Testament affirms to have taken place in the Incarnation. This is my position.
I shall only add one or two more brief remarks. Those who charge theologians with making unfounded assumptions should be guiltless of making them themselves. The warning against falling into this error may be profitably taken to heart by both parties to this controversy. It is affirmed that the constitution of nature bears everywhere the indications of systematic upward progression. I ask, is this systematic upward progression everywhere true of man? Are there no where indications of retrogression? Europeans generally during the last two thousand years have progressed, although even this is not universally true, for some of the fine arts attained to greater perfection in the ancient than in the modern world. But has the Hindoo race progressed during the last three thousand years? Have the Chinese? Is it not true that the progress of these two races has been one of considerable retrogression? Where is the progress made by the Negro races from the first dawnings of their history? Yet these three races form more than half of the human family. Again, have the Arab races progressed since the days of Abraham? Are the Mahommedan races in a state of gradual improvement? These are questions to which a definite answer must be returned before the proposition above referred to can be esteemed a solution of all the problems of human history.
It will perhaps be replied that nature is gradually extinguishing these unprogressive races, under the pressure of her inexorable laws. Yet they constitute an overwhelming majority of the human race, and it is strange to talk of this progressive improvement of the human race as a great law of nature, if the mode of improvement be the extinction of the great majority of mankind. But are the Hindoo, Chinese, Negro, and other unprogressive races less numerous than they were three thousand years ago? The evidence is all the other way. We want present facts and not theories of the future. It has been affirmed, that “The survival of the fittest is the stern law of nature. The invariable action of law of itself eliminates the unfit. Progress is necessary to existence. Extinction is the doom of Retrogression.” These assertions may receive their fulfilment in some period of the distant future, but they certainly do not agree with the past history of man. Whatever progress the European races may be capable of, certain conditions of climate form an inexorable barrier to their supplanting the Negro, the Hindoo, or the Chinese, and we know that European blood in certain climates has actually degenerated.
Again, it is stated “that the highest effect contemplated by the supposed revelation is to bring man into harmony with law; and this is insured by law acting on intelligence, and even on instinct.” Where, I ask, is the proof of this derived from the history of man? Is the moral condition of the races above referred to higher than it was three thousand years ago? Did the moral condition of the Greek race progress or retrograde during the four centuries which preceded the Advent? Which was the more elevated condition of Roman morality, that of the century which preceded and followed the conquest of Italy, or that of the empire and its crumbling institutions?
Again, we are told that “there is not in reality a gradation of breach of law that is not followed by an equivalent gradation of punishment.” This may be the case in some Utopia in which the author lives, but it certainly neither is nor ever has been the condition of this world. Does villany, I ask, always receive adequate punishment in this world? It has been the all but universal opinion of mankind that it does not. Did not Fouché die quietly in his bed, possessed of wealth and honours, and a darkened conscience? Did not Philip II. of Spain, after all his crimes, die under the delusions of self-approbation? In a controversy like this the most confident assertions will not supply the want of facts on which to ground our reasonings.
It follows, therefore, that the assertion that the Christian argument involves reasoning in a circle, or else that it assumes the point at issue, is disproved.