To solve this great difficulty, or at least to mitigate the stupendous

darkness in which it seems enveloped, various theories have been employed.

The most celebrated of these are the following: 1. The hypothesis of the

soul’s preëxistence; 2. The hypothesis of the Manicheans; and, 3. The

hypothesis of optimism. It may not be improper to bestow a few brief

remarks on these different schemes.

Section I.

The hypothesis of the soul’s preëxistence.

This was a favourite opinion with many of the ancient philosophers. In the

Phædon of Plato, Socrates is introduced as maintaining it; and he ascribes

it to Orpheus as its original author. Leibnitz supposes that it was

invented for the purpose of explaining the origin of evil;(140) but the

truth seems to be, that it arose from the difficulty of conceiving how the

soul could be created out of nothing, or out of a substance so different

from itself as matter. The hypothesis in question was also maintained by

many great philosophers, because they imagined that if the past eternity

of the soul were denied, this would shake the philosophical proof of its

future eternity.(141) There can be no doubt, however, that after the idea

of the soul’s preëxistence had been conceived and entertained, it was very

generally employed to account for the origin of evil.

But it must be conceded that this hypothesis merely draws a veil over the

great difficulty it was designed to solve. The difficulty arises, not from

the circumstance that evil exists in the present state of our being, but

from the fact that it is found to exist anywhere, or in any state, under

the moral administration of a perfect God. It is as difficult to conceive

why such a being should have permitted the soul to sin in a former state

of existence, even if such a state were an established reality, as it is

to account for its rise in the present world. To remove the difficulty out

of sight, by transferring the origin of evil beyond the sphere of visible

things, is a poor substitute for a solid and satisfactory solution of it.

The great problem of the moral world is not to be illuminated by any such

fictions of the imagination; and we had better let it alone altogether, if

we have nothing more rational and solid to advance.

Section II.

The hypothesis of the Manicheans.

Though this doctrine is ascribed to Manes, after whom it is called, it is

of a far more early origin. It was taught, says Plutarch, by the Persian

Magi, whose views are exhibited by him in his celebrated treatise of Isis

and Osiris. “Zoroaster,” says he, “thought that there are two gods,

contrary to each other in their operations—a good and an evil principle.

To the former he gave the name of Oromazes, and to the latter that of

Arimanius. The one resembles light and truth, the other darkness and

ignorance.” We do not allude to this theory for the purpose of combatting

it; we suppose it would scarcely find a respectable advocate at the

present day. This, like many other inventions of the great intellects of

antiquity, has entirely disappeared before the simple but sublime

doctrines of the religion of Jesus.

M. Bayle, it is true, has exhausted the resources of his genius, as well

as the rich stores of his learning, in order to adorn the doctrine of

Manes, and to render it more plausible, if possible, than any other which

has been employed to explain the origin and existence of evil. But this

was not because he sincerely believed it to be founded in truth. He merely

wished to show its superiority to other schemes, in order that by

demolishing it he might the more effectually inspire the minds of men with

a dark feeling of universal scepticism. It was decorated by him, not as a

system of truth, but as a sacrifice to be offered up on the altar of

atheism. True to the instincts of his philosophy, he sought on this

subject, as well as on all others, to extinguish the light of science, and

manifest the wonders of his power, by hanging round the wretched

habitation of man the gloom of eternal despair.

Though this doctrine is now obsolete in the civilized world, it was

employed by a large portion of the ancient philosophers to account for the

origin of evil. This theory does not, it is true, relieve the difficulty

it was designed to solve; but it shows that there was a difficulty to be

solved, which would not have been the case if evil could have been

ascribed to the Supreme God as its author. If those philosophers could

have regarded him as a Being of partial goodness, they would have found no

difficulty in explaining the origin and existence of evil; they would

simply have attributed the good and the evil in the world to the good and

the evil supposed to pertain to his nature. But they could not do this,

inasmuch as the human mind no sooner forms an idea of God, than it regards

him as a being of unlimited and unmixed goodness. It has shown a

disposition, in all ages, to adopt the most wild and untenable hypotheses,

rather than entertain the imagination that evil could proceed from the

Father of Lights. The doctrine of Manes, then, as well as the other

hypotheses employed to explain the origin of evil, demonstrates how deep

is the conviction of the human mind that God is light, and in him there is

no darkness at all. In searching after the fountain of evil, it turns from

the great source of life and light, and embraces the wildest

extravagancies, rather than indulge a dark suspicion respecting the

goodness of its Maker.

Section III.

The hypothesis of optimism.

“The fundamental principle of the optimist is,” says Dugald Stewart, “that

all events are ordered for the best; and that evils which we suffer are

parts of a great system conducted by almighty power under the direction of

infinite wisdom and goodness.” Leibnitz, who is unquestionably one of the

greatest philosophers the world has produced, has exerted all his powers

to adorn and recommend the scheme of optimism. We have, in a former

chapter, considered the system of Leibnitz; but we have not denied its

fundamental principle, which is so well expressed in the above language of

Mr. Stewart. If he had confined himself to that principle, without

undertaking to explain _how_ it is that God orders all things for the

best, his doctrine would have been free from objections, except for a want

of clearness and precision.

Dr. Chalmers has said that the scheme of optimism, as left by Leibnitz, is

merely an hypothesis. He insists, however, that even as an hypothesis, it

may be made to serve a highly important purpose in theology. “If it be not

an offensive weapon,” says he, “with which we may beat down and demolish

the strongholds of the sceptic, it is, at least, an armour of defence,

with which we may cause all his shafts to fall harmless at our feet.” This

remark of Dr. Chalmers seems to be well founded. The objection of the

sceptic, as we have seen, proceeds on the supposition that if a Being of

infinite perfections had so chosen, he might have made a better universe

than that which actually exists. But we have as good reasons to make

suppositions as the sceptic. Let us suppose, then, that notwithstanding

the evil which reigns in the world, the universe is the best possible

universe that even infinite wisdom, and power, and goodness, could have

called into existence. Let us suppose that this would be clearly seen by

us, if we only knew the whole of the case; if we could only view the

present condition of man in all its connexions and relations to God’s

infinite plans for the universe and for eternity. In other words, let us

suppose, that if we were only omniscient, our difficulty would vanish, and

where we now see a cloud over the divine perfections, we should behold

bright manifestations of them. This is a mere supposition, it is true, but

it should be remembered that the objection in question is based on a mere

supposition. When it is asked, why God permitted evil if he had both the

power and the will to prevent it? it is assumed that the prevention of

evil is better, on the whole, than the permission of it, and consequently

more worthy of the infinite wisdom and goodness ascribed to God. But as

this is a mere supposition, which has never been proved by the sceptic, we

do not see why it may not be sufficiently answered by a mere supposition.

This is an important idea. In many a good old writer, it exists in the

dark germ; in Dr. Chalmers it appears in the expanded blossom. Its value

may be shown, and its beauty illustrated, by a reference to the affairs of

human life; for many of the most important concerns of society are settled

and determined by the application of this principle. If a man were on

trial for his life, for example, and certain facts tending to establish

his guilt were in evidence against him, no enlightened tribunal would

pronounce him guilty, provided any hypothesis could be framed, or any

supposition made, by which the facts in evidence could be reconciled with

his innocence. “Evidence,” says a distinguished legal writer, “is always

insufficient, where, assuming all to be proved which the evidence tends to

prove, some other hypothesis may still be true; for it is the actual

exclusion of any other hypothesis which invests mere circumstances with

the force of proof.”(142) This is a settled principle of law. If any

supposition can be made, then, which would reconcile the facts in evidence

with a man’s innocence, the law directs that he shall be acquitted. Any

other rule of decision would be manifestly unjust, and inconsistent with

the dictates of a sound policy.

This principle is applicable, whether the accused bear a good or a bad

moral character. As, according to the hypothesis, he might be innocent; so

no tribunal on earth could fairly determine that he was guilty. The

hardship of such a conclusion would be still more apparent in regard to

the conduct of a man whose general character is well known to be good. In

such a case, especially, should the facts be of such a nature as to

exclude every favourable hypothesis, before either truth or justice would

listen to an unfavourable decision and judgment.

Such is the rule which human wisdom has established, in order to arrive at

truth, or at least to avoid error, in relation to the acts and intentions

of men. Hence, is it not reasonable, we ask, that we should keep within

the same sacred bounds, when we come to form an estimate of the ways of

God? No one can fairly doubt that the world is replete with the evidences

of his goodness. If he had so chosen, he might have made every breath a

sigh, every sensation a pang, and every utterance of man’s spirit a groan;

but how differently has he constituted the world within us, and the

glorious world around us! Instead of swelling every sound with discord,

and clothing every object with deformity, he has made all nature music to

the ear and beauty to the eye. The full tide of his universal goodness

flows within us, and around us on all sides. In its eternal rounds, it

touches and blesses all things living with its power. We live, and move,

and have our very being in the goodness of God. Surely, then, we should

most joyfully cling to an hypothesis which is favourable to the character

of such a Being. Hence, we infinitely prefer the warm and generous theory

of the optimist, which regards the actual universe as the best possible,

to the dark and cold hypothesis of the sceptic, which calls in question

the boundless perfections of God.

In the foregoing remarks, we have concurred with Dr. Chalmers in viewing

the doctrine of Bayle as a mere unsupported hypothesis; but have we any

right to do so? It has not been proved, it is true; but there are some

things which require no proof. Is not the doctrine of Bayle a thing of

this kind? It certainly seems evident that if God hates sin above all

things, and could easily prevent it, he would not permit it to appear in

his dominions. This view of the subject recommends itself powerfully to

the human mind, which has, in all ages, been worried and perplexed by it.

It seems to carry its own evidence along with it; to shake the mind with

doubt, and over-spread it with darkness. Hence, we should either expose

its fallacy or else fairly acknowledge its power.

On the other hand, the theory of Leibnitz, or rather the great fundamental

idea of his theory, is more than a mere hypothesis. It rests on the

conviction of the human mind that God is infinitely perfect, and seems to

flow from it as a necessary consequence. For how natural, how irresistible

the conclusion, that if God be absolutely perfect, then the world made by

him must be perfect also! But while these two hypotheses seem to be sound,

it is clear that both cannot be so: there is a real conflict between them,

and the one or the other must be made to give way before our knowledge can

assume a clearly harmonious and satisfactory form.

The effects of the hypothesis of the sceptic may be neutralized by

opposing to it the hypothesis of the theist. But we are not satisfied to

stop at this point. We intend, not merely to neutralize, but to explode,

the theory of the sceptic. We intend to wrest from it the element of its

strength, and grind it to atoms. We intend to lay our finger precisely

upon the fallacy which lies so deeply concealed in its bosom, and from

which it derives all its apparent force and conclusiveness. We shall drag

this false principle from its place of concealment into the open light of

day, and thereby expose the utter futility, the inherent absurdity, of the

whole atheistical hypothesis, to which it has so long imparted its

deceptive power. If Leibnitz did not detect this false principle, and

thereby overthrow the theory of Bayle, it was because he held this

principle in common with him. We must eliminate this error, common to the

scheme of the atheist and to that of the theist, if we would organize the

truths which both contain, and present them together in one harmonious and

symmetrical system; into a system which will enable us, not merely to

stand upon the defensive, and parry off the attacks of the sceptic, but to

enter upon his own territory, and demolish his strongholds; not merely to

oppose his argument by a counter-argument, but to explode his sophism, and

exhibit the cause of God in cloudless splendour.

This false principle, this concealed fallacy, of which the atheist has

been so long allowed to avail himself, has been the source of many

unsuspected errors, and many lamentable evils. It has not only given power

and efficacy to the weapons of the sceptic, but to the eye of faith itself

has it cast clouds and darkness over the transcendent glory of the moral

government of God. It has prevented a Leibnitz from refuting the sophism

of a Bayle, and induced a Kant to declare a theodicy impossible. It has,

indeed, as we shall see, crept into and corrupted the whole mass of

religious knowledge; converting the radiant and clearly-defined body of

truth into a dark, heterogeneous compound of conflicting elements. Hence

we shall utterly demolish it, that neither a fragment nor a shadow of it

may remain to darken and delude the minds of men.

Section IV.

The argument of the atheist—The reply of Leibnitz and other theists—The

insufficiency of this reply.

Sin exists. This is the astounding fact of which the atheist avails

himself. He has never ceased to contend, that as God has permitted sin to

exist, he was either unable or unwilling to prevent it. God might easily

have prevented sin, says he, if he had chosen to do so; but he has not

chosen to do so, and therefore his love of virtue is not infinite, his

holiness is not unlimited. Now, we deny this conclusion, and assert the

infinite holiness of God.

This assertion may be true, says Voltaire, and hence God would have

prevented all sin, if his power had not been limited. The only conceivable

way, says he, to reconcile the existence of sin with the purity of God, is

“to deny his omnipotence.” We insist, on the contrary, that the power of

God is absolutely without bounds or limits. Though sin exists, we still

maintain, in opposition to every form of atheism, that this fact implies

no limitation of any of the perfections of God.

Before proceeding to establish this position, we shall consider the usual

reply of the theist to the great argument of the atheist. “The greatest

love which a ruler can show for virtue,” says Bayle, “is to cause it, if

he can, to be always practised without any mixture of vice. If it is easy

for him to procure this advantage to his subjects, and he nevertheless

permits vice to raise its head in his dominions, intending to punish it

after having tolerated it for a long time, his affection for virtue is not

the greatest of which we can conceive; _it is then not infinite_.” This

has been the great standing argument of atheism in all ages of the world.

This argument, as held by the atheists of antiquity, is presented by

Cudworth in the following words: “The supposed Deity and Maker of the

world was either willing to abolish all evils, but not able; or he was

able but not willing; or else, lastly, he was both able and willing. This

latter is the only thing that answers fully to the notion of a God. Now

that the supposed Creator of all things was not thus both able and willing

to abolish all evils, is plain, because then there would have been no

evils at all left. Wherefore, since there is such a deluge of evils

overflowing all, it must needs be that either he was willing, and not able

to remove them, and then he was impotent; or else he was able and not

willing, and then he was envious; or, lastly, he was neither able nor

willing, and then he was both impotent and envious.” This argument is, in

substance, the same as that presented by Bayle, and relied upon by

atheists in all subsequent times.

To the argument of Bayle, the following reply is given by Leibnitz: “When

we detach things that are connected together,—the parts from the whole,

the human race from the universe, the attributes of God from each other,

his power from his wisdom,—we are permitted to say that _God can cause

virtue to be in the world without any mixture of vice, and even that he

many easily cause it to be so_.”(143) But he does not cause virtue to

exist without any mixture of vice, says Leibnitz, because the good of the

whole universe requires the permission of moral evil. How the good of the

universe requires the permission of evil, he has not shown us; but he

repeatedly asserts this to be the fact, and insists that if God were to

prevent all evil, this would work a greater harm to the whole than the

permission of some evil. Now, is this a sufficient and satisfactory reply

to the argument of the atheist?

It certainly seems to possess weight, and is entitled to serious

consideration. Bayle contends, that as evil exists, the Creator and

Governor of the world cannot be absolutely perfect. He should have

concluded with me, Leibnitz truly says, that as God is absolutely perfect,

the existence of evil is necessary to the perfection of the universe, or

is an unavoidable part of the best world that could have been created. It

is thus that he neutralizes, without demolishing, the argument of the

atheist, and each person is left to be more deeply affected by the

argument of Leibnitz, or by that of Bayle, as his faith in the unlimited

goodness of God is strong or weak. If the theist, by such means, should

gain a complete victory, this would be due to the faith of the vanquished,

rather than to the superiority of the logic by which he is subdued.

To this argument of Leibnitz we may then well apply his own remarks upon

another celebrated philosopher. Descartes met the argument of the

necessitarian, not by exposing its fallacy, but by repelling the

conclusion of it on extraneous grounds. “This was to cut the Gordian

knot,” says Leibnitz, who was himself a necessitarian, “and to reply to

the conclusion of one argument, not by resolving it, but by opposing to it

a contrary argument; which is not conformed to the laws of philosophical

controversy.” The reply of Leibnitz to Bayle is clearly open to the same

objection. It does not analyze the sophism of the sceptic, or resolve it

into its elements, and point out its error; it merely opposes its

conclusion by the presentation of a contrary argument. Hence it is not

likely to produce very great effect; for, as Leibnitz himself says, in

relation to this mode of attacking sceptics, “It may arrest them a little,

but they will always return to their reasoning, presented in different

forms, until we cause them to comprehend wherein the defect of their

sophism consists.” Leibnitz has, then, according to his own canons of

criticism, merely cut the Gordian knot of atheism, which he should have

unravelled. He has merely arrested the champions of scepticism “a little,”

whom he should have overthrown and demolished.

His reply is not only incomplete, in that it does not expose the sophistry

of the atheist; it is also unsound. It carries in its bosom the elements

of its own destruction. It is self-contradictory, and consequently

untenable. It admits that it is easy for God to cause virtue to exist, and

yet contends that, in certain cases, he fails to do so, because the

highest good of the universe requires the existence of moral evil. But how

is this possible? It will be conceded that the good of the individual

would be promoted, if God should cause him to be perfectly holy and happy.

This would be for the good of each and every individual moral agent in the

universe. How, then, is it possible for such an exercise of the divine

power to be for the good of all the parts, and yet not for the good of the

whole? So far from being able to see how these things can hang together,

it seems evident that they are utterly repugnant to each other.

The highest good of the universe, we are told, requires the permission of

evil. What good? Is it the holiness of moral agents? This, it is said, can

be produced by the agency of God, without the introduction of evil, and

produced, too, in the greatest conceivable degree of perfection. Why

should evil be permitted, then, in order to attain an end, which it is

conceded can be perfectly attained without it? Is there any higher end

than the perfect moral purity of the universe, which God seeks to

accomplish by the permission of sin? It certainly is not the happiness of

the moral universe; for this can also be secured, in the highest possible

degree, by the agency of the Divine Being, without the permission of moral

evil. What good is there, then, beside the perfect holiness and happiness

of the universe, to the production of which the existence of moral evil is

necessary? There seems to be no such good in reality. It appears to be a

dream of the imagination, a splendid fiction, which has been recommended

to the human mind by its horror of the cheerless gloom of scepticism.

Section V.

The sophism of the atheist exploded, and a perfect agreement shown to

subsist between the existence of sin and the holiness of God.

Supposing God to possess perfect holiness, he would certainly prevent all

moral evil, says the atheist, unless his power were limited. This

inference is drawn from a false premiss; 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 argument has not

been clearly and fully refuted. To refute this argument with perfect

clearness, it is necessary to show two things: first, that it is no

limitation of the divine omnipotence 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. We shall

endeavour to evince these two things, in order to refute the grand sophism

of the sceptic, and lay a solid foundation for a genuine scheme of

optimism, against which no valid objection can be urged.

In the first place, then, it is not a limitation of the divine omnipotence

to say, that it cannot work contradictions. There will be little

difficulty in establishing this point. Indeed, it will be readily

conceded; and if we offer a few remarks upon it, it is only that we may

leave nothing dark and obscure behind us, even to those whose minds are

not accustomed to such speculations.

As contradictions are impossible in themselves, so to say that God could

perform them, would not be to magnify his power, but to expose our own

absurdity. When we affirm, that omnipotence cannot cause a thing to be and

not to be at one and the same time, or cannot make two and two equal to

five, we do not set limits to it; we simply declare that _such things are

not the objects of power_. A circle cannot be made to possess the

properties of a square, nor a square the properties of a circle. Infinite

power cannot confer the properties of the one of these figures upon the

other, not because it is less than infinite power, but because it is not

within the nature, or province, or dominion of power, to perform such

things, to embody such inherent and immutable absurdities in an actual

existence. In regard to the doing of such things, or rather of such absurd

and inconceivable nothings, omnipotence itself possesses no advantage over

weakness. Power, from its very nature and essence, is confined to the

accomplishment of such things as are possible, or imply no contradiction.

Hence it is beyond the reach of almighty power itself to break up and

confound the immutable foundations of reason and truth. God possesses no

such miserable power, no such horribly distorted attribute, no such

inconceivably monstrous imperfection and deformity of nature, as would

enable him to embody absurdities and contradictions in actual existence.

It is one of the chief excellencies and glories of the divine nature, that

its infinite power works within a sphere of light and love, without the

least tendency to break over the sacred bounds of eternal truth, into the

outer darkness of chaotic night!

The truth of this remark, as a general proposition, will be readily

admitted. In general terms, it is universally acknowledged; and its

application is easy where the impossibility is plain, or the contradiction

glaring. But there are things which really imply a contradiction, without

being suspected to do so. We may well ask, in relation to such things, why

God does not produce them, without being sensible of the absurdity of the

inquiry. The production of virtue, or true holiness, in the breast of a

moral agent, is a thing of this kind.(144)

This conducts us to our second position; namely, that if God should cause

virtue to exist in the breast of a moral agent, he would work a

contradiction. 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 connexion 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.(145) If infinite wisdom, and goodness,

and power, should muster all the means and appliances in the universe, 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.

The argument of the atheist assumes, as we have seen, that a Being of

infinite power could easily prevent sin, and cause holiness to exist. It

assumes that it is possible, that it implies no contradiction, to create

an intelligent moral agent, and place it beyond all liability to sin. But

this is a mistake. Almighty power itself, we may say with the most

profound reverence, cannot create such a being, and place it beyond the

possibility of sinning. If it could not sin, there would be no merit, no

virtue, in its obedience. That is to say, it would not be a moral agent at

all, but a machine merely. The power to do wrong, as well as to do right,

is included in the very idea of a moral and accountable agent, and no such

agent can possibly exist without being invested with such a power. To

suppose such an agent to be created, and placed beyond all liability to

sin, is to suppose it to be what it is, and not what it is, at one and the

same time; it is to suppose a creature to be endowed with a power to do

wrong, and yet destitute of such a power, which is a plain contradiction.

Hence, Omnipotence cannot create such a being, and deny to it a power to

do evil, or secure it against the possibility of sinning.

We may, with the atheist, conceive of a universe of such beings, if we

please, and we may suppose them to be at all times prevented from sinning

by the omnipotent and irresistible energy of the Divine Being; and having

imagined all this, we may be infinitely better pleased with this ideal

creation of our own than with that which God has called into actual

existence around us. But then we should only prefer the absurd and

contradictory model of a universe engendered in our own weak brains, to

that which infinite wisdom, and power, and goodness have actually

projected into being. Such a universe, if freed from contradictions, might

be also free from evil, nay, from the very possibility of evil; but only

on condition that it should at the same time be free from the very

possibility of good. It admits into its dominions moral and accountable

creatures, capable of knowing and serving God, and of drinking at the

purest fountain of untreated bliss, only by being involved in

irreconcilable contradiction. It may appear more delightful to the

imagination, before it comes to be narrowly inspected, than the universe

of God; and the latter, being compared with it, may seem less worthy of

the infinite perfections of its Author; but, after all, it is but a weak

and crazy thing, a contradictious and impossible conceit. We may admire

it, and make it the standard by which to try the work of God; but, after

all, it is but an “idol of the human mind,” and not “an idea of the Divine

Mind.” It is a little, distorted image of human weakness, and not a

harmonious manifestation of divine power. Among all the possible models of

a universe, which lay open to the infinite mind and choice of God, a thing

so deformed had no place; and when the sceptic concludes that the

perfections of the Supreme Architect are limited, because he did work

after such a model, he only displays the impotency of his own wisdom, and

the blindness of his own presumption.

Hence, the error of the atheist is obvious. He does not consider that the

only way to place all creatures beyond a liability to sin, is to place

them below the rank of intelligent and accountable beings. He does not

consider that the only way to prevent “sin from raising its head” is to

prevent holiness from the possibility of appearing in the universe. He

does not consider that among all the ideal worlds present to the Divine

Mind, there was not one which, if called into existence, would have been

capable of serving and glorifying its Maker, and yet incapable of throwing

off his authority. Hence, he really finds fault with the work of the

Almighty, because he has not framed the world according to a model which

is involved in the most irreconcilable contradictions. In other words, he

fancies that God is not perfect, because he has not embodied an absurdity

in the creature. If God, he asks, is perfect, why did he not render virtue

possible, and vice impossible? Why did he not create moral agents, and yet

deny to them the attributes of moral agents? Why did he not give his

creatures the power to do evil, and yet withhold this power from them? He

might just as well have demanded, why he did not create matter without

dimensions, and circles without the properties of a circle. Poor man! he

cannot see the wisdom and power of God manifested in the world, because it

is not filled with moral agents which are not moral agents, and with

glorious realities that are mere empty shadows!

If the above remarks be just, then the great question, why has God

permitted sin, which has exercised the ingenuity of man in all ages, is a

most idle and insignificant inquiry. The only real question is, why he

created such beings as men at all; and not why he created them, and then

permitted them to sin. The first question is easily answered. The second,

though often propounded, seems to be a most unmeaning question. It is

unmeaning, because it seeks to ascertain the _reason why_ God has

permitted a thing, which, in reality, he has not permitted at all. Having

created a world of moral agents, that is, a world endowed with a power to

sin, it was impossible for him to prevent sin, so long as they retained

this power, or, in other words, so long as they continued to exist as

moral agents. A universe of such agents given, its liability to sin is not

a matter for the will of God to permit; this is a necessary consequence

from the nature of moral agents. He could no more deny peccability to such

creatures than he could deny the properties of the circle to a circle; and

if he could not prevent such a thing, it is surely very absurd to ask why

he permitted it.

On the supposition of such a world, God did not permit sin at all; it

could not have been prevented. It would be considered a very absurd

inquiry, if we should ask, why God permitted two and two to be equal to

four, or why he permitted the three angles of a triangle to be equal to

two right angles. But all such questions, however idle and absurd, are not

more so than the great inquiry respecting the permission of moral evil. If

this does not so appear to our minds, it is because we have not

sufficiently reflected on the great truth, that a necessary virtue is a

contradiction in terms, an inherent and utter impossibility. The full

possession of this truth will show us, that the cause of theism has been

encumbered with great difficulties, because its advocates have endeavoured

to explain the reason _why_ God has permitted a thing, which, in point of

fact, he has not permitted. Having attempted to explain a fact which has

no existence, it is no wonder that they should have involved themselves in

clouds and darkness. Let us cease then, to seek the reason of that which

is _not_, in order that we may behold the glory of that which _is_.

We have seen that it is impossible for Omnipotence to create moral agents,

and yet prevent them from possessing an ability to sin or transgress the

law of God. In other words, that the Almighty cannot give agents a power

to sin, and at the same time deny this power to them. To expect such

things of him, is to expect him to work contradictions; to expect him to

cause a thing to be what it is, and not what it is, at one and the same

time. Thus, although sin exists, we vindicate the character of God, on the

ground that it is an inherent impossibility to exclude all evil from a

moral universe. This is the high, impregnable ground of the true Christian

theist.

We have already said, that the only real question is, not why God

permitted evil, but why he created beings capable of sinning. Such

creatures are, beyond all question, the most noble specimens of his

workmanship. St. Augustine has beautifully said, that the horse which has

gone astray is a more noble creature than a stone which has no power to go

astray. In like manner, we may say, a moral agent that is capable of

knowing, and loving, and serving God, though its very nature implies an

ability to do otherwise, is a more glorious creature than any being

destitute of such a capacity. If God had created no such beings, his work

might have represented him “as a house doth the builder,” but not “as a

son doth his father.” If he had created no such beings, there would have

been no eye in the universe, except his own, to admire and to love his

works. Traces of his wisdom and goodness might have been seen here and

there, scattered over his works, provided any eye had been lighted up with

intelligence to see them; but nowhere would his living and immortal image

have been seen in the magnificent temple of the world. It will be

conceded, then, that there is no difficulty in conceiving why God should

have preferred a universe of creatures, beaming with the glories of his

own image, to one wholly destitute of the beauty of holiness and the light

of intelligence. But having preferred the noblest order of beings, its

inseparable incident, a liability to moral evil, could not have been

excluded.

Hence God is the author of all good, and of good alone; and evil proceeds,

not from him nor from his permission, but from an abuse of those exalted

and unshackled powers, whose nature and whose freedom constitute the glory

of the moral universe.

This, then, is the sublime purpose of God, to give and continue existence

to free moral agents, and to govern them for their good as well as for his

own glory. This is the decree of the Almighty, to call forth from nothing

into actual existence, the universe which now shines around us, and spread

over it the dominion of his perfect moral law. He does not cause sin. He

does not permit sin. He sees that it will raise its hideous head, but he

does not say—_so let it be_. No! sin is the thing which God hates, and

which he is determined, by all the means within the reach of his

omnipotence, utterly to root out and destroy. The word has gone forth,

“Offences must needs come, but woe unto the man by whom they come!” His

omnipotence is pledged to wipe out the stain and efface the shadow of

evil, in as far as possible, from the glory of his creation. But yet, so

long as the light and glory of the moral universe is permitted to shine,

may the dark shadow of evil, which moral agents cast upon its brightness

and its beauty, continue to exist and partially obscure its divine

perfections. And would it not be unworthy of the divine wisdom and

goodness to remove this partial shadow, by an utter extinction of the

universal light?

Section VI.

The true and only foundation of optimism.

Though few have been satisfied with the details of the system of optimism,

yet has the great fundamental conception of that system been received by

the wise and good in all ages. “The atheist takes it for granted,” says

Cudworth, “that whosoever asserts a God, or a perfect mind, to be the

original of all things, does therefore _ipso facto_ suppose all things to

be well made, and as they should be. And this, doubtless, was the sense of

all the ancient theologers,” &c.(146) This distinguished philosopher

himself maintains, as well as Leibnitz, that the intellectual world could

not have been made better than it is, even by a being of infinite power

and goodness. “To believe a God,” says he, “is to believe the existence of

all _possible_ good and perfection in the universe; it is to believe that

things are as they should be, and that the world is so well framed and

governed, as that the whole system thereof could not possibly have been

better.”(147)

But while this fundamental principle has been held by philosophers, both

ancient and modern, it has been, as we have seen, connected with other

doctrines, by which it is contradicted, and its influence impaired. The

concession which is universally made to the sceptic, that if God is

omnipotent, he can easily cause virtue to exist without any mixture of

vice, is fatal to the great principle that lies at the foundation of

optimism. It resolves the whole scheme, which regards the world as the

best that could possibly be made, into a loose, vague, and untenable

hypothesis. It is true, the good man would infinitely prefer this

hypothesis to the intolerable gloom of atheism; but yet our rational

nature demands something more solid and clear on which to repose. Indeed,

the warmest supporters of optimism have supplied us with the lofty

sentiments of a pure faith, rather than with substantial and satisfactory

views. The writings of Plato, Leibnitz, Cudworth, and Edwards, all furnish

illustrations of the justness of this remark. But nowhere is its truth

more clearly seen than in the following passage from Plotinus: “God made

the _whole_ most beautiful, entire, complete, and sufficient,” says he;

“all agreeing friendly with itself and its parts; both the nobler and the

meaner of them being alike congruous thereunto. Whosoever, therefore, from

the parts thereof, will blame the whole, is an absurd and unjust censurer.

For we ought to consider the parts not alone by themselves, but in

reference to the whole, whether they be harmonious and agreeable to the

same; otherwise we shall not blame the universe, but some of its parts

taken by themselves.”(148)

The theist, however, who maintains this beautiful sentiment, is accustomed

to make concessions by which its beauty is marred, and its foundation

subverted. For if God could easily cause virtue to exist without any

mixture of vice, it is demonstrable that the universe might be rendered

more holy and happy than it is, in each _and every one of its parts, and

consequently in the whole_. But if we assume the position, as in truth we

may, that a necessary virtue is a contradiction in terms, then we can

vindicate the infinite perfections of God, by showing that sin may enter

into the best possible world. This great truth, then, that “a necessary

holiness is a contradiction in terms,” which has been so often uttered and

so seldom followed out to its consequences, is the precise point from

which we should contemplate the world, if we would behold the power and

goodness of God therein manifested. This is the secret of the world by

which the dark enigma of evil is to be solved. This is the clew, by which

we are to be conducted from the dark labyrinth of atheistical doubt and

scepticism, into the clear and open light of divine providence. This is

the great central light which has been wanting to the scheme of optimism,

to convert it from a mere but magnificent hypothesis, into a clearly

manifested and glorious reality.

God governs everything according to the nature which he has given it.

Indeed, it would be as impossible to necessitate true and genuine

obedience by the application of power, as it would be to convert a stone

into a moral agent by the application of motives and persuasion. As sin is

possible, then, though omnipotence be pledged to prevent its existence, it

is clear that it cannot be regarded as a limitation of the divine power.

This cuts off the objection of Voltaire, and explodes the grand sophism on

which it is based. God hates sin above all things, and is more than

willing to prevent it; and he actually does so, in so far as this is

possible to infinite wisdom and power. This refutes the objection of

Bayle, and leaves his argument without the shadow of a foundation. God

does not choose sin, or permit it as a means of the highest good, as if

there could be any higher good than absolute and universal holiness; but

it comes to pass, because God has created a world of moral agents, and

they have transgressed his law. This removes the high and holy God

infinitely above the contamination of all evil, above all contact with the

sin of the world, and shows an impassable gulf between the purity of the

Creator and the pravity of the creature. By revealing the true connexion

of sin with the moral universe, and its relation to God, it clearly shows

that its existence should not raise the slightest cloud of suspicion

respecting his infinite goodness and power, and thus reconciles the fact

of sin’s existence with the adorable perfections of the Governor of the

world.

It may be said, that although God could not cause holiness to prevail

universally, by the exercise of his power, yet he might employ means and

influences sufficient to prevent the occurrence of sin. To this there are

two satisfactory answers. First, it is a contradiction to admit that God

cannot necessitate virtue, because such a thing is impossible; and yet

suppose that he could, in all cases, secure the existence of it, without

any chance of failure. It both asserts and denies at the same time, the

idea of a necessary holiness. Secondly, the objection in question proceeds

on the supposition, that there are resources in the stores of infinite

wisdom and goodness, which might have been successfully employed for the

good of the universe, and which God has failed to employ. But this is a

mere gratuitous assumption. It never has been, and it never can be proved.

It has not even the appearance of reason in its favour. Let the objector

show wherein the Almighty could have done more than he has actually done

to prevent sin, and secure holiness, without attempting violence to the

nature of man, and then his objection may have some force, and be entitled

to some consideration. But if he cannot do this, his objection rests upon

a mere unsupported hypothesis. It is very easy to conceive that more light

might have been imparted to men, and greater influences brought to bear on

their feelings; but it will not follow that such additional inducements to

virtue would have been good for them. For aught we know, it might only

have added to their awful responsibilities, without at all conducing to

their good. For aught we know, the means employed by God for the salvation

of man from sin and misery have, both in kind and degree, been precisely

such as to secure the _maximum_ of good and the _minimum_ of evil.

Let the sceptic frame a more perfect moral law for the government of the

world than that which God has established; let him show where more

tremendous sanctions might be found to enforce that law; let him show how

the Almighty might have made a more efficacious display of his majesty,

and power, and goodness, than he has actually exhibited to us; let him

refer to more powerful influences, consistent with the free-agency and

accountability of man, than those exerted by the Spirit of God; let him do

all this, we say, and then he may have some right to object and find

fault. In one word, let him meet the demand of the Most High, “what more

could have been done to my vineyard, that I have not done in it,” and show

it to be without foundation, and then there will be some appearance of

reason in his objection.

Section VII.

The glory of God seen in the creation of a world, which he foresaw would

fall under the dominion of sin.

It may be said that we have not yet gone to the bottom of the difficulty;

that although omnipotence could not deny the capacity to commit sin to a

moral agent, yet God could prevent moral evil, by refusing to create any

being who he foreknew would transgress his law. As God might have

prevented the rise of evil in our world, by refusing to create man, why,

it may be asked, did he not do so? Why did he not, in this way, spare the

universe that spectacle of crime and suffering which has been presented in

the history of our fallen race? To this we answer, that God did not choose

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_. We are now

prepared to see this great truth in its true light.

The highest good of the universe may, no doubt, be promoted in various

ways by the redemption of our fallen race, of which we have no conception

in our present state of darkness and ignorance. But we are furnished with

some faint glimpses of the true source of that admiration and wonder with

which the angels of God are inspired, as they contemplate the

manifestation of his glory in reconciling the world to himself. The

felicity of the angels, and no doubt of all created intelligences, must be

found in the enjoyment of God. No other object is sufficiently vast to

fill and satisfy the unlimited desires of the mind. And as the character

of God must necessarily constitute the chief happiness of his creatures,

so every new manifestation of the glory of that character must add to

their supreme felicity.

Now, if there had been no such thing as sin, the compassion of God would

have been forever concealed from the eyes of his intelligent creatures.

They might have adored his purity; but of that tender compassion which

calls up the deepest and most pleasurable emotions in the soul, they could

have known absolutely nothing. They might have witnessed his love to

sinless beings; but they could never have seen that love in its omnipotent

yearnings over the ruined and the lost. The attribute of mercy or

compassion would have been forever locked up and concealed in the deep

recesses of the Divine Mind; and the blessing, and honour, and glory, and

dominion, which shall be ascribed by the redeemed unto Him that sitteth

upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever, would not have been

heard in the universe of God. The chord which now sends forth the sweetest

music in the harmony of heaven, filling its inhabitants with deep and

rapturous emotions of sympathy and delight, would never have been touched

by the finger of God.

How far such a display of the divine character is necessary to the ends of

the moral government of God can be known only to himself. We are informed

in his word, that it is by the redemption of the world, through Christ,

that the ends of his moral government are secured. It pleased the Father,

saith St. Paul, that in Christ all fulness should dwell; and having made

peace through the blood of his cross, by him to reconcile all things unto

himself, whether they be things in earth, or things in heaven. Thus we are

told that all things in heaven are reconciled unto God, by the blood of

the cross. But it may be asked, How was it possible to reconcile those

beings unto God who had never sinned against him, nor been estranged from

him? According to the original, God is not exactly said to reconcile, but

_to keep together_, all things, by the mediation and work of Christ. The

angels fell from heaven, and man sinned in paradise; but the creatures of

God are secured from any further defection from him, by the

all-controlling display of his character, and by the stupendous system of

moral agencies and means which have been called forth in the great work of

redemption.

In this view of the passage in question we are happy to find that we are

confirmed by so enlightened a critic as Dr. Macknight. In relation to

these words, “And by him to reconcile all things,” he says, “Though I have

translated the ἀποκαταλλάζα, to reconcile, which is its ordinary meaning,

_I am clearly of opinion_ that it signifies here to _unite_ simply;

because the good angels are said, in the latter part of the verse, to be

reconciled with Christ, who never were at enmity with him. I therefore

take the apostle’s meaning to be this: ‘It pleased the Father, by Christ,

to unite all things to Christ, namely, as their Head and Governor.’ ”

(Col. i, 20.) The same sublime truth is revealed in other portions of

Scripture, as in the fifteenth chapter of First Corinthians, where it is

said, that it is the design of God to subject all things to Christ, and

exception is made only of Him by whom this universal subjection and

dominion is established.

The accomplishment of such an object, it will be admitted, is one of

unspeakable importance. For no government, however perfect and beautiful

in other respects, can be of much value unless it be so constructed as to

secure its own permanency. This grand object, revelation informs us, has

been attained by the redemption of the world through Christ. But for his

work, those blessed spirits now bound together in everlasting society with

God, by the sacred ties of confidence and love, might have fallen from him

into the outer darkness, as angels and archangels had fallen before them.

The ministers of light, though having drunk deeply of the goodness of God,

and rejoiced in his smile, were not satisfied with their condition, and,

striving to better it, plucked down ruin on their heads. So, man in

paradise, not content with his happy lot, but vainly striving to raise

himself to a god, forsook his allegiance to his Maker, and yielded himself

a willing servant to the powers of darkness. But an apostle, though born

in sin, having tasted the bitter fruits of evil, and the sweet mercies of

redeeming love, felt such confidence in God, that in whatsoever state he

was, he could therewith be content. Not only in heaven—not only in

paradise—but in a dungeon, loaded with irons, and beaten with stripes, he

could rejoice and give glory to God. This firm and unshaken allegiance in

a weak and erring mortal to the throne of the Most High God, presents a

spectacle of moral grandeur and sublimity to which the annals of eternity,

but for the existence of sin, had presented no parallel.

It is by the scheme of Christianity alone that the confidence of the

creature in his God has been rendered too strong for the gates of hell to

prevail against him. But for this scheme, the moral government of God

might have presented scenes of mutability and change, infinitely more

appalling than the partial evil which we behold in our present state. Or

if God had chosen to prevent this, to render it absolutely impossible, by

the creation of no beings who he foreknew would rebel against him, this

might have contracted his moral empire into the most insignificant limits.

Thus, by the creation of the world, God has prepared the way to extend the

boundaries of his empire, and to secure its foundations. Christ is the

corner-stone of the spiritual universe, by which all things in heaven and

earth are kept from falling away from God, its great centre of light and

life. No wonder, then, that when this crowning event in the moral

government of the universe was about to be accomplished, the heavenly host

should have shouted, “Glory to God in the highest!”

This view of the subject of moral evil, derived from revelation,

harmonizes all the phenomena of the moral world with the perfections of

God, as well as warms and expands the noblest feelings of the human heart.

St. Paul ascribes the stability of all things in heaven to the

manifestation of the divine character in the redemption of our fallen

race. If this be the case, then those who so confidently assert that God

might have preserved the world in holiness, without impairing the

free-agency of man, as easily as he keeps the angels from falling, are

very much mistaken. This assertion is frequently made; but, as we

conceive, without authority either from reason or revelation. It is said

by a learned divine, “That God has actually preserved some of the angels

from falling; and that he has promised to preserve, and will, therefore,

certainly preserve the spirits of just men made perfect; and that this has

been, and will be, done without infringing at all on their moral agency.

Of course, he could just as easily have preserved Adam from falling,

without infringing on his moral agency.”(149) This argument is pronounced

by its author to be conclusive and “unanswerable.” But if God preserves

one portion of his creatures from falling, by the manner in which he has

dealt with those who have fallen, it does not follow that he could just as

easily have kept each and every portion of them from a defection. If a

ruler should prevent a part of his subjects from rebellion, by the way in

which he has dealt with those who have rebelled, does it follow that he

might just as easily have secured obedience in the rebels? It clearly does

not; and hence there is a radical defect in the argument of these learned

divines and the school to which they belong. Let them show that all things

in heaven are not secured in their eternal allegiance to God by the work

of Christ, and then they may safely conclude, that man might have been as

certainly and infallibly secured against a defection as angels and just

men made perfect. If God binds the spiritual universe to himself, by the

display of his unbounded mercy to a fallen race, it does not follow that

he could, by the same means, have preserved that race itself, and every

other order of beings, from a defection. For, on this supposition, there

would have been no fallen race to call forth his infinite compassion, and

send its binding influences over angels and the spirits of just men made

perfect.

According to the sublime idea of revelation, it is the transcendent glory

of the cross that it exerts moral influences, which have bound the whole

intelligent creation together in one harmonious society with God, its

sovereign and all-glorious head. For aught we know, the stability of the

spiritual universe could not possibly have been secured in any other way;

and hence, if there had been no fall, and no redemption, the grand

intellectual system which is now so full of confidence and joy, might have

been without a secure foundation. We have seen that its foundation could

not, from the very nature of things, have been established and fixed by

mere power; for this could not have kept a single moral agent from the

possibility of sinning much less a boundless universe of such beings.

The Christian believer, then, labours under no difficulty in regard to the

existence of evil, which should in the least oppress his mind. If he

should confine his attention too narrowly to the nature of evil as it is

in itself, he may, indeed, perplex his brain almost to distraction; but he

should take a freer and wider range, viewing it in all its relations,

dependencies, and ultimate results. If he should consider the origin of

evil exclusively, he may only meet with impenetrable obscurity and

confusion, as he endeavours to pry into the dark enigma of the world; but

all that is painful in it will soon vanish, if he will only view it in

connexion with God’s infinite plans for the good of the universe. He will

then see, that this world, with all its wickedness and woe, is but a dim

speck of vitality in a boundless dominion of light, that is necessary to

the glory and perfection of the whole.

The believer should not, for one moment, entertain the low view, that the

atonement confers its benefits on man alone. The plan of redemption was

not an after-thought, designed to remedy an evil which the eye of

omniscience had not foreseen; it was formed in the counsels of infinite

wisdom long before the foundations of the world were laid. The atonement

was made for man, it is true; but, in a still higher sense, man was made

for the atonement. All things were made _for_ Christ. God, whose

prerogative it is to bring good out of evil, will turn the short-lived

triumph of the powers of darkness into a glorious victory, and cause it to

be a universal song of rejoicing to his great name throughout the endless

ages of eternity.

Who would complain, then, that he is subject to the evils of this life,

since he has been subjected in hope? Everything around us is a type and

symbol of our high destiny. All things shadow forth the glory to be

revealed in us. The insignificant seed that rots in the earth does not

die. It lives, it germinates, it grows, it springs up into the stately

plant, and is crowned with beauty. The worm beneath our feet, though

seemingly so dead, is, by the secret all-working power of God, undergoing

changes to fit it for a higher life. In due time it puts off its form of

death, and rises, “like a winged flower,” from the cold earth into a warm

region of life and light. In like manner, the bodies we inhabit,

wonderfully and fearfully as they are made, are destined to moulder in the

grave, and become the food of worms, before they are raised like unto

Christ’s glorified body, clothed with power and immortality. Nature

itself, with all its teeming forms of beauty, must decay, till “pale

concluding winter comes at last, and shuts the scene.” But the scene is

closed, and all its magnificence shut in, only that it may open out again,

as it were, into all the wonders of a new creation. Even so the human

soul, although it be subjected to the powers of darkness for a season, may

emerge into the light and blessedness of eternity. Such is the destiny of

man; and upon himself, under God, it depends whether this high destiny be

fulfilled, or his bright hopes blasted. “I call heaven and earth this day

to witness,” saith the Lord, “that I have set before you life and death,

blessing and cursing; therefore choose life.”

Section VIII.

The little, captious spirit of Voltaire, and other atheizing minute

philosophers.

It will be objected, no doubt, that in the foregoing vindication of the

divine holiness, we have taken for granted the Christian scheme of

redemption; but it should be remembered, that we do not propose “to

justify the ways of God to man” on deistical principles. We are fully

persuaded, that if God had merely created the world, and remained

satisfied to look down as an idle spectator upon the evils it had brought

upon itself, his character and glory would not admit of vindication; and

we should not have entered upon so chimerical an enterprise. We have

attempted to reconcile the government of the world, as set forth in the

system we maintain, and in no other, with the perfections of God; and

whoever objects that this cannot be done, is bound, we insist, to take the

system as it is in itself, and not as it is mangled and distorted by its

adversaries. We freely admit, that if the Christian religion does not

furnish the means of such a reconciliation, then we do not possess them,

and are necessarily devoted to despair.

Here we must notice a very great inconsistency of atheists. They insist

that if the world had been created by an infinitely perfect Being, he

would not have permitted the least sin or disorder to arise in his

dominions; yet, when they hear of any interposition on his part for the

good of the world, they pour ridicule upon the idea of such intervention

as wholly unworthy of the majesty of so august a Being. So weak and

wavering are their notions, that it agrees equally well with their creed,

that it becomes an infinitely perfect Being to do all things, and that it

becomes him to do nothing! Can you believe that an omnipotent God reigns,

says M. Voltaire, since he beholds the frightful evils of the world

without putting forth his arm to redress them? Can you believe, asks the

same philosopher, that so great a being, even if he existed, would trouble

himself about the affairs of so insignificant a creature as man?

Such inconsistencies are hardly worthy of a philosopher, who possesses a

wisdom so sublime, and a penetration so profound, as to authorize him to

sit in judgment on the order and harmony of the universe. They are

perfectly worthy, however, of the author of Candidus. The poison of this

work consists, not in its argument, but in its ridicule. Indeed, it is not

even an attempt at argument or rational criticism. The sole aim of the

author seems to be to show the brilliancy of his wit, at the expense of

“the best of all possible worlds;” and it must be confessed that he has

shown it, though it be in the worst of all possible causes.

Instead of attempting to view the existence of evil in the light of any

principle whatever, he merely accumulates evil upon evil; and when the

mass has become sufficiently terrific, with the jeering mockery of a small

fiend, he delights in the contemplation of the awful spectacle as a

conclusive demonstration that the Ruler of the world is unequal to the

government of his creatures. His book is merely an appeal to the ignorance

and feelings of the reader, and can do no mischief, except when it may

happen to find a weak head in union with a corrupt heart. For what does it

signify that the castle of the Baron Thunder-ten-trock was not the most

perfect of all possible castles; does this disprove the skill of the great

Architect of the universe? Or what does it signify that Dr. Pangloss lost

an eye; does this extinguish a single ray of the divine omniscience, or

depose either of the great lights which God ordained to rule the world?

Lastly, what does it signify that M. Voltaire, by a horrible abuse of his

powers, should have extinguished the light of reason in his soul; does

this disprove the goodness of that Being by whom those powers were given

for a higher and a nobler purpose? A fracture in the dome of St. Paul’s

would, no doubt, present as great difficulties to an insect lost in its

depths, as the disorders of this little world presented to the captious

and fault-finding spirit of M. Voltaire; and would as completely shut out

the order and design of the whole structure from its field of vision, as

the order and design of the magnificent temple of the world was excluded

from the mind of this very minute philosopher.

Chapter VII.

Objections Considered.

Heaven seeth all, and therefore knows the sense

Of the whole beauteous frame of Providence.

His judgment of God’s kingdom needs must fail,

Who knows no more of it than this dark jail.—BAXTER.

One part, one little part, we dimly scan,

Through the dark medium of life’s feverish dream;

Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,

If but that little part incongruous seem.—BEATTIE.

Though we have taken great pains to obviate objections by the manner in

which we have unfolded and presented our views, yet we cannot but foresee

that they will have to run the gauntlet of adverse criticism. Indeed, we

could desire nothing more sincerely than such a thing, provided they be

subjected to the test of principle, and not of prejudice. But how can such

a thing be hoped for? Is all theological prejudice and bigotry extinct,

that an author may hope to have a perfectly fair hearing, and impartial

decision? Experience has taught us that we must expect to be assailed by a

great variety of cavils, and that the weakest will often produce as great

an effect as the strongest upon the minds of sectarians. Hence, we shall

endeavour to meet all such objections as may occur to us, provided they

can be supposed to exert any influence over the mind.

Section I.

It may be objected that the foregoing scheme is “new theology.”

If nothing more were intended by such an objection, than to put the reader

on his guard against the prejudice in favour of novelty, we could not

complain of it. For surely every new opinion which comes into collision

with received doctrines, should be held suspected, until it is made to

undergo the scrutiny to which its importance and appearance of truth may

entitle it. No reasonable man should complain of such a precaution.

Certainly, the present writer should not complain of such treatment, for

it is precisely the treatment which he has received from himself. He well

remembers, that when the great truths, as he now conceives them to be,

first dawned upon his own mind, how sadly they disturbed and perplexed his

blind veneration for the past. As he was himself, then, so ready to shrink

from his own views as “new theology,” he surely cannot censure any one

else for so doing, provided he will but give them a fair and impartial

hearing before he proceeds to scout them from his presence.

It is true, after the writer had once fairly made the discovery that “old

theology” is not necessarily true theology, he could proceed with the

greater freedom in his inquiries. He did not very particularly inquire

whether _this_ or _that_ was old or new, but whether it was true. He felt

assured, that if he could only be so fortunate as to find the truth, the

defect of novelty would be cured by lapse of time, and he need give

himself no very great concern about it.

Not many centuries ago, as everybody knows, Galileo was condemned and

imprisoned for teaching “new theology.” He had the unbounded audacity to

put forth the insufferable heresy, “directly against the very word of God

itself,” that the sun does not revolve around the earth. The Vatican

thundered, and crushed Galileo; but it did not shake the solar system.

This stood as firm in its centre, and rolled on as calmly and as

majestically in its course, as if the Vatican had not uttered its

anathema. Its thunders are all hushed now. Nay, it has even reversed its

former decree, and concluded to permit the orbs of light to roll on in the

paths appointed for them by the mighty hand that reared this beautiful

fabric of the heavens and the earth. Even so will it be, in relation to

all sound views pertaining to the constitution and government of the moral

world; and those who may deem them unsound, will have to give some more

solid reason than an odious epithet, before they can resist their

progress.

We do not pretend that they have not, or that they cannot give, more solid

reasons for this opposition to what is called “new theology.” We only

mean, that an _objection_, which, entirely overlooking the truth or the

falsehood of an opinion, appeals to prejudice by the use of an odious

name, is unworthy of a serious and candid inquirer after truth, and

therefore should be laid aside by all who aspire to such a character.

Section II.

It may be imagined that the views herein set forth limit the omnipotence

of God.

This objection has already been sufficiently answered; but it may be well

to notice it more distinctly and by itself, as it is one upon which great

reliance will be placed. It is not denying the omnipotence of God, as all

agree, to say that he cannot work contradictions; but, as we have seen, a

necessitated volition is a contradiction in terms. Hence, it does not deny

or limit the divine omnipotence, to say, it cannot produce or necessitate

our volitions. It is absurd to say, that that is a voluntary exercise of

power, which is produced in us by the power of God. Both of these

principles are conceded by those who will be among the foremost, in all

probability, to deny the conclusion which necessarily flows from them.

Thus, the Princeton Review, for example, admits that God cannot work

contradictions; and also that “a necessary volition is an absurdity, a

thing inconceivable.” But will it say, that God cannot work a volition in

the human mind? that omnipotence cannot work this particular absurdity? If

that journal should speak on this subject at all, we venture to predict it

will be seen that it has enounced a great truth, without perceiving its

bearing upon the Princeton school of theology.

If this objection has any solidity, it lies with equal force against the

scheme of Leibnitz, Edwards, and other philosophers and divines, as well

as against the doctrine of the foregoing treatise. For they affirm, that

God chooses sin as the necessary means of the greatest good; and that he

could not exclude sin from the universe, without causing a greater evil

than its permission. This sentiment is repeatedly set forth in the Essais

de Théodicée of Leibnitz; and it is also repeatedly avowed by Edwards.

Now, here is an inherent impossibility; namely, the prevention of sin

without producing a greater evil than its permission, which it is assumed

God cannot work. In other words, when it is asserted, that he chooses sin

as the necessary means of the greatest good, it is clearly intended that

he _cannot_ secure the greatest good without choosing that sin should

exist. Hence if the doctrine of this discourse limits the omnipotence of

God, no less can be said of that to which it is opposed.

But both schemes may be objected to on this ground, and both be set aside

as limiting the perfections of God. Indeed, it has been objected against

the scheme of Leibnitz, “that it seems to make something which I do not

know how to express otherwise than by the ancient stoical fate, antecedent

and superior even to God himself. I would therefore think it best to say,

with the current of orthodox divines, that God was perfectly free in his

purpose and providence, and that there is no reason to be sought for the

one or the other beyond himself.”(150) We do not know what reply Leibnitz

would have made to such an objection; but we should be at no loss for an

answer, were it urged against the fundamental principle of the preceding

discourse. We should say, in the first place, that it was a very great

pity the author could not find a better way of expressing his objection,

“than by the ancient stoical fate, antecedent and superior even to God

himself.” To say that God cannot work contradictions, is not to place a

stoical fate, nor any other kind of fate, above him. And if it is, this

impiety is certainly practised by “the current of orthodox divines,” even

in the author’s own sense of the term; for they all affirm that God cannot

work contradictions.

If such an objection has any force against the present treatise, it might

be much better expressed than by an allusion to “the ancient stoical

fate.” Indeed, it is much better expressed by Luther, in his vindication

of the doctrine of consubstantiation. When it was urged against that

doctrine, that it is a mathematical impossibility for the same corporeal

substance to be in a thousand different places at one and the same time,

the great reformer resisted the objection as an infringement of the divine

sovereignty: “God is above mathematics,” he exclaimed: “I reject reason,

common-sense, carnal arguments, and mathematical proofs.”(151) There is no

doubt but the orthodox divines of the present day will be disposed to

smile at this specimen of Luther’s pious zeal for the sovereignty of God;

and although they may not be willing to admit that God is above all reason

and common-sense, yet will they be inclined to think that, in some

respects, Luther was a little below them. But while they smile at Luther,

might it not be well to take care, lest they should display a zeal of the

same kind, and equally pleasant in the estimation of posterity?

In affirming that omnipotence cannot work contradictions, we are certainly

very far from being sensible that we place a “stoical fate” above God, or

any other kind of fate. We would not place mathematics above God; much

less would we place him below mathematics. Nor would we say anything which

would seem to render him otherwise than “perfectly free in his purpose, or

in his providence.” To say that he cannot make two and two equal to five,

is not, we trust, inconsistent with the perfection of his freedom. If it

would be a great imperfection in mortals, as all orthodox divines will

admit, to be able to affirm and believe that two and two are equal to

five; then it would be a still greater imperfection in God, not only to be

able to affirm such a thing, but to embody it in an actual creation. In

like manner, if it would be an imperfection in us to be able to affirm so

great “an absurdity,” a thing so “inconceivable” as a “necessary

volition;” then it could not add much to the glory of the Divine Being, to

suppose him capable of producing such a monstrosity in the constitution

and government of the world.

There is a class of theologians who reject every explication of the origin

of evil, on the ground that they limit the divine sovereignty; and to the

question why evil is permitted to exist, they reply, “We cannot tell.” If

God can, as they insist he can, easily cause holiness to shine forth with

unclouded, universal splendour, no wonder they cannot tell why he does not

do so. If, by a single glance of his eye, he can make hell itself clear up

and shine out into a heaven, and fix the eternal glories of the moral

universe upon an immovable foundation, no wonder they can see no reason

why he refuses to do so. The only wonder is that they cannot see that, on

this principle, there is no reason at all for such refusal, and the

permission of moral evil. For if God can do all this, and yet permits sin

“to raise its hideous head in his dominions,” then there is, and must be,

something which he loves more than holiness, or abhors more than sin. And

hence, the reason why they cannot tell is, in our humble opinion, because

they have already _told too much_,—more than they know. To doubt in the

right place, is often the best cure for doubt; and to dogmatize in the

wrong place, is often the most certain road to scepticism.

Section III.

The foregoing scheme, it may be said, presents a gloomy view of the

universe.

If we say that God cannot necessitate our volitions, or necessarily

exclude all evil from a moral system, it will be objected, that, on these

principles, “we have no certainty of the continued obedience of holy,

angelic, and redeemed spirits.”(152) This is true, if the scheme of

necessity affords the only ground of certainty in the universe. But we

cannot see the justness of this assumption. It is agreed on all sides,

that a fixed habit of acting, formed by repeated and long-continued acts,

is a pretty sure foundation for the certainty of action. Hence, there may

be some little certainty, some little stability in the moral world,

without supposing all things therein to be necessitated. Perhaps there may

be, on this hypothesis, as great certainty therein, as is actually found

to exist. In the assertion so often made, that if all our volitions are

not controlled by the divine power, but left to ourselves, then the moral

world will not be so well governed as the natural, and disorders will be

found therein; the _fact_ seems to be overlooked, that there is actually

disorder and confusion in the moral world. If it were our object to find

an hypothesis to overturn and refute the _facts_ of the moral world, we

know of none better adapted to this purpose than the doctrine of

necessity; but if it be our aim, not to deny, but to explain the phenomena

of the moral world, then must we adopt some other scheme.

But it has been eloquently said, that “if God could not have prevented sin

in the universe, he cannot prevent believers from falling; he cannot

prevent Gabriel and Paul from sinking at once into devils, and heaven from

turning into a hell. And were he to create new races to fill the vacant

seats, they might turn to devils as fast as he created them, in spite of

anything that he could do short of destroying their moral agency. He is

liable to be defeated in all his designs, and to be as miserable as he is

benevolent. This is infinitely the gloomiest idea that was ever thrown

upon the world. It is gloomier than hell itself.” True, there might be a

gloomier spectacle in the universe than hell itself; and for this very

reason it is, as we have seen, that God has ordained hell itself, that

such gloomier spectacle may never appear in the universe to darken its

transcendent and eternal glories. It is on this principle that we

reconcile the infinite goodness of God with the awful spectacle of a world

lying in ruins, and the still more awful spectacle of an eternal hell

beyond the grave.

It is true, there might be a gloomier _idea_ than hell itself; there might

be two such _ideas_. Nay, there _might_ be two such things; but yet, so

far as we know, there is only one. We beg such objectors to consider,

there are some things which, even according to our scheme, will not take

place quite so fast as they may be pleased to imagine them. It is true,

for example, that a man, that a rational being, _might_ take a copper

instead of a guinea, if both were presented for his selection; but

although we may conceive this, it does not follow that he will actually

take the copper and leave the guinea. It is also true, that a man _might_

throw himself down from the brink of a precipice into a yawning gulf; yet

he may, perhaps, refuse to do so. This may be merely a gloomy _idea_, and

may never become a gloomy fact. In like manner, as one world fell away

from God, so _might_ another, and another. But yet this imagination may

never be realized. Indeed, the Supreme Ruler of all things has assured us

that it will not be the case; and in forming our views of the universe, we

feel more disposed to look at facts than at fancies.

We need not frighten ourselves at “gloomy ideas.” There are gloomy facts

enough in the universe to call forth all our fears. Indeed, if we should

permit our minds to be directed, not by the reality of things, but by the

relative gloominess of ideas, we should altogether deny the eternity of

future torments, and rejoice in the contemplation of the bright prospects

of the universal holiness and happiness of created beings. We believe,

however, that when the truth is once found, it will present the universe

of God in a more glorious point of view, than it can be made to display by

any system of error whatever. Whether the foregoing scheme possesses this

characteristic of truth or not, the reader can now determine for himself.

He can determine whether it does not present a brighter and more lovely

spectacle to contemplate God, the great fountain of all being and all

light, as doing all that is possible, in the very nature of things, for

the holiness and happiness of the universe, and actually succeeding,

through and by the coöperation of his creation, in regard to all worlds

but this; than to view him as possessing the power to shut out all evil

from the universe, for time and for eternity, and yet absolutely refusing

to do so.

But let me insist upon it, that the first and the all-important inquiry

is, “What is truth?” This is the only wise course; and it is the only safe

course for the necessitarian. For no system, when presented in its true

colours, is more gloomy and appalling than his own. It represents the

great God, who is seated upon the throne of the universe, as controlling

all the volitions of his rational creatures by the omnipotence of his

will. The first man succumbs to his power. At this unavoidable

transgression, God kindles into the most fearful wrath, and dooms both

himself and his posterity to temporal and eternal misery. If this be so,

then let me ask the reader, if the _fact_ be not infinitely “gloomier than

hell itself?”

Section IV.

It may be alleged, that in refusing to subject the volitions of men to the

power and control of God, we undermine the sentiments of humility and

submission.

This objection is often made: it is, indeed, the great practical ground on

which the scheme of necessity plants itself. The object is, no doubt, a

most laudable one; but every laudable object is not always promoted by

wise means. Let us see, then, if it be wise thus to assert the doctrine of

a necessitated agency, in order to abase the pride of man, and teach him a

lesson of humility.

If we set out from this point of view, it will be found exceedingly

difficult, if not impossible, to tell when and where to stop. In fact,

those who rely upon this kind of argument, often carry it much too far;

and if we look around us, we shall find that the only means of escaping

the charge of pride, is to swallow all the doctrines which the teachers of

humility may be pleased to present to us. Thus, for example, Spinoza would

have us to believe that man is not a person at all, but a mere fugitive

mode of the Divine Being. Nothing is more ridiculous, in his eyes, than

that so insignificant a thing as a man should aspire to the rank of a

distinct, personal existence, and assume to himself the attribute of

free-will. “The free-will,” says he, “is a chimera of the same kind,

flattered by our pride, and in reality founded upon our ignorance.” Now it

may not be very humble in us, but still we beg leave to protest against

this entire annihilation of our being.

Even M. Comte, who in his extreme modesty, denies the existence of a God,

insists that it is nothing but the fumes of pride and self-conceit, the

intoxication of vanity, which induces us to imagine that we are free and

accountable beings. No doubt he would consider us sufficiently humble and

submissive, provided we would only forswear all the light which shines

within us and around us, and swallow his atheistical dogmas. But there is

something more valuable in the universe, if we mistake not, than even a

reputation for humility.

But no one will expect us to go so far in self-abasement and humility, as

to submit our intellects to all sorts of dogmas. It will be amply

sufficient, if we only go just far enough to receive the dogmas of his

particular creed. Thus, for example, if you assail the doctrine of

necessity, on which, as we have seen, Calvinism erects itself, the

Puseyite will clasp his hands, and cry out, “Well done!” But if you turn

around and oppose any of his dogmas, then what pride and presumption to

set up your individual opinion against “the decisions of the mother

Church!”(153) And he will be sure to wind up his lesson of humility with

that of St. Vincentius: “_Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus._”

Seeing, then, that a reputation for humility is not the greatest good in

the universe, and that the only possibility of obtaining it, even from one

party, is by a submission of the intellect to its creed; would it not be

as well to leave such a reputation to take care of itself, and use all

exertions to search out and find the truth?

Tell a carnal, unregenerate man, it is said, that though God had physical

power to create him, he has not moral power to govern him, and you could

not furnish his mind with better aliment for pride and rebellion. Should

you, after giving this lesson, press upon him the claims of Jehovah, you

might expect to be answered, as Moses was by the proud oppressor of

Israel: “Who is the Lord, that I should obey his voice?”(154) He must,

indeed, be an exceedingly _carnal man_, who should draw such an inference

from the doctrine in question. But we should not tell him that “God had no

moral power to govern him.” We should tell him, that God could not control

all his volitions; that he could not govern him as a machine is governed,

without destroying his free-agency; but we should still insist that he

possessed the most absolute and uncontrollable power to govern him; that

God can give him a perfect moral law, and power to obey it, with the most

stupendous motives for obedience; and then, if he persist in his

disobedience, God can, and will, shut him up in torments forever, that

others, seeing the awful consequences of rebellion, may keep their

allegiance to him. Is this to deny the power of God to govern his

creatures?

But is it not wonderful that a Calvinist should undertake to test a

doctrine by the consequences which a “proud oppressor,” or “a carnal man,”

might draw from it? If we should tell such a man, that God possesses the

absolute power to control his volitions, and that nothing ever happens on

earth but in perfect accordance with his good will and pleasure, might we

not expect him to conclude, that he would then leave the matter with God,

and give himself no trouble about it?

If we may judge from the practical effect of doctrines, then the authors

of the objection in question do not take the best method to inculcate the

lesson of humility. They take the precise course pursued by Melanchthon,

and often with the same success. This great reformer, it is well known,

undertook to frame his doctrine so as to teach humility and submission:

with this view he went so far as to insist, that man was so insignificant

a thing, that he could not act at all, except in so far as he was acted

upon by the Divine Being. Having reached this position, he not only saw,

but expressly adopted the conclusion, that God is the author of all the

volitions of men; that he was the author of David’s adultery as well as of

Saul’s conversion.

Now, it is true, if the human mind could abase itself so low as to embrace

such a doctrine, it would give a most complete, if not a most pleasing

example of its submissiveness. But it cannot very well do so. For even

amid the ruins of our fallen nature, there are some fragments left, which

raise the intellect and moral nature of man above so blind and so abject a

submission to the dominion of error. Hence it was, that Melanchthon

himself could not long submit to his own doctrine; and he who had

undertaken to teach others humility, became one of the most illustrious of

rebels. This suggests the profound aphorism of Pascal: “It is dangerous to

make us see too much how near man is to the brutes, without showing him

his greatness. It is also dangerous to make him see his greatness without

his baseness. It is still more dangerous to leave him ignorant of both.

But it is very advantageous to represent to him both the one and the

other.”(155)

The fact is, that nothing can teach the human intellect a genuine

submission but the light of evidence: this, and this alone, can rivet upon

our speculative faculty the chains of inevitable conviction, and bind it

to the truth. Those who teach error, then, may preach humility with

success to the blind and the unthinking; but wherever men may be disposed

to think for themselves, they must expect to find rebels. How many at the

present day have begun, like Melanchthon, by the preaching of submission,

and ended by the practice of rebellion against their own doctrines. It is

wonderful to observe the style of criticism usually adopted by the

faithful, as one illustrious rebel after another is seen to depart from

their ranks. The moment he is known to doubt a single dogma of the

established faith, the awful suspicion is set afloat, “there is no telling

where he will end.” Alas! this is but too true; for when a man has once

discovered that what he has been taught all his life to regard and

reverence as a great mystery, is in reality an absurdity and an imposition

on his reason, there is no telling where he will end. The reaction may be

so great, indeed, as to produce an entire shipwreck of his faith. But in

this case, let us not chide our poor lost brother with pride and

presumption, as if we ourselves were unstained with the same sin. Let us

remember, that the fault may be partly our own, as well as his. Let us

remember, that the sin of not even every unwarrantable innovation, is

exclusively imputable to the innovator himself. For, as Lord Bacon says,

“A froward retention of customs is a great innovator.”

If those who, some centuries ago, formed the various creeds of the

Christian world, were fallible men, and if they permitted serious errors

to creep into the great mass of religious truth contained in those creeds,

then the best way to prevent innovation is, not to preach humility and

submission, but to bring those formularies into a conformity with the

truth. For, if the “Old Theology” be unsound, the “New Theology” will have

the audacity to show itself. And who, among the children of men, will set

bounds to the progress of the human mind, either in the direction of God’s

word or his work, and say, Hitherto shalt thou come, and here shall thy

proud waves be stayed? Who will lash the winds into submission, or bind

the raging ocean at his feet?

Section V.

The foregoing treatise may be deemed inconsistent with gratitude to God.

“Such reflections,” it has been urged, “afford as little ground for

gratitude as for submission. Why do we feel grateful to God for those

favours which are conferred on us by the agency of our fellow-men, except

on the principle that they are instruments in _his_ hand, who, without

‘offering the least violence to their wills, or taking away the liberty or

contingency of second causes,’ hath most sovereign dominion over them, to

do by them, and upon them, whatsoever himself pleaseth? On any other

ground, _they_ would be worthy of the principal, and He of the secondary

praise.”(156) True, if men are “_only instruments in his hand_,” we should

give him all the praise; but we should never feel grateful to our earthly

friends and benefactors. As we should not, on this hypothesis, be grateful

for the greatest benefits conferred on us by our fellow-men; so, in the

language of Hartley, and Belsham, and Diderot, we should never resent, nor

censure, the greatest injuries committed by the greatest criminals. But on

our principles, while we have infinite ground for gratitude to God, we

also have some little room for gratitude to our fellow-men.

Section VI.

It may be contended, that it is unfair to urge the preceding difficulties

against the scheme of necessity; inasmuch as the same, or as great,

difficulties attach to the system of those by whom they are urged.

This is the great standing objection with all the advocates of necessity.

Indeed, we sometimes find it conceded by the advocates of free-agency; of

which concessions the opposite party are ever ready and eager to avail

themselves. In the statement of this fact, I do not mean to complain of a

zeal which all candid minds must acknowledge to be commendable on the part

of the advocates of necessity. It is a fact, however, that the following

language of Archbishop Whately, in relation to the difficulty of

accounting for the origin of evil, is often quoted by them: “Let it be

remembered, that it is not peculiar to any one theological system: let not

therefore the Calvinist or the Arminian urge it as an objection against

their respective adversaries; much less an objection clothed in offensive

language, which will be found to recoil on their own religious tenets, as

soon as it shall be perceived that both parties are alike unable to

explain the difficulty; let them not, to destroy an opponent’s system,

rashly kindle a fire which will soon extend to the no less combustible

structure of their own.”

No one can doubt the justice or wisdom of such a maxim; and it would be

well if it were observed by all who may be disposed to assail an

adversary’s scheme with objections. Every such person should first ask

himself whether his objection might not be retorted, or the shaft be

hurled back with destructive force at the assailant. But although the

remark of Archbishop Whately is both wise and just, it is not altogether

so in its application to Archbishop King, or to other Arminians. For

example, it is conceded by Dr. Reid, that he had not found the means of

reconciling the existence of moral evil with the perfections of God; but

is this any reason why he should not shrink with abhorrence from the

doctrine of necessity which so clearly appeared to him to make God the

direct and proper cause of moral evil? “We acknowledge,” says he, “that

nothing can happen under the administration of the Deity which he does not

permit. The permission of natural and moral evil is a phenomenon which

cannot be disputed. To account for this phenomenon under the government of

a Being of infinite goodness, has, in all ages, been considered as

difficult to human reason, whether we embrace the system of liberty or

that of necessity.” But because he could not solve this difficulty, must

he therefore embrace, or at least cease to object against every absurdity

which may be propounded to him? Because he cannot comprehend why an

infinitely good Being should permit sin, does it follow that he should

cease to protest against making God the proper cause and agent of all

moral evil as well as good? In his opinion, the scheme of necessity does

this; and hence he very properly remarks: “This view of the divine nature,

the only one consistent with the scheme of necessity, appears to me much

more shocking than the permission of evil upon the scheme of liberty. It

is said, that it requires only _strength of mind_ to embrace it: to me it

seems to require much strength of countenance to profess it.” In this

sentiment of Dr. Reid the moral sense and reason of mankind will, I have

no doubt, perfectly concur. For although we may not be able to clear up

the stupendous difficulties pertaining to the spiritual universe, this is

no reason why we may be permitted to deepen them into absurdities, and

cause them to bear, in the harshest and most revolting form, upon the

moral sentiments of mankind.

The reason why Dr. Reid and others could not remove the great difficulty

concerning the origin of evil is, as we have seen, because they proceeded

on the supposition that God could create a moral system, and yet

necessarily exclude all sin from it. This mistake, it seems to me, has

already been sufficiently refuted, and the existence of moral evil brought

into perfect accordance and harmony with the infinite holiness of God.

But it is strenuously insisted, in particular, that the divine

foreknowledge of all future events establishes their necessity; and thus

involves the advocates of that sublime attribute in all the difficulties

against which they so loudly declaim. As I have examined this argument in

another place,(157) I shall not dwell upon it here, but content myself

with a few additional remarks. The whole strength of this argument in

favour of necessity arises from the assumption, that if God foresees the

future volitions of men, they must be bound together with other things

according to the mechanism of cause and effect; that is to say that God

could not foresee the voluntary acts of men, unless they should be

necessitated by causes ultimately connected with his own will.

Accordingly, this bold position is usually assumed by the advocates of

necessity. But to say that God could not foreknow future events, unless

they are indissolubly connected together, seems to be a tremendous flight

for any finite mind; and especially for those who are always reminding us

of the melancholy fact of human blindness and presumption. Who shall set

limits to the modes of knowledge possessed by an infinite,

all-comprehending mind? Who shall tell _how_ God foresees future events?

Who shall say it must be in this or that particular way, or it cannot be

at all?

Let the necessitarian prove his assumption, let him make it clear that God

could not foreknow future events unless they are necessitated, and he will

place in the hands of the sceptic the means of demonstrating, with

absolute and uncontrollable certainty, that God does not foreknow all

future events at all, that he does not foresee the free voluntary acts of

the human mind. For we do know, as clearly as we can possibly know

anything, not even excepting our own existence, or the existence of a God,

that we are free in our volitions, that they are not necessitated; and

hence, according to the assumption in question, God could not foresee

them. If the sceptic could see what the necessitarian affirms, he might

proceed from what he _knows_, by a direct and irresistible process, to a

denial of the foreknowledge of God, in relation to human volitions.

But fortunately the assumption of the necessitarian is not true. By the

fundamental laws of human belief, we know that our acts are not

necessitated; and hence, we infer that as God foresees them all, he may do

so without proceeding from cause to effect, according to the method of

finite minds. We thus reason from the _known_ to the _unknown_; from the

clear light of facts around us up to the dark question concerning the

possibility of the modes in relation to the divine prescience. We would

not first settle this question of possibility, we would not say that God

cannot foreknow except in one particular way, and then proceed to reason

from such a postulate against the clearest facts in the universe. No

logic, and especially no logic based upon so obscure a foundation, shall

ever be permitted to extinguish for us the light of facts, or convert the

universal intelligence of man into a falsehood.

Those who argue from foreknowledge in favour of necessity, usually admit

that there is neither _before_ nor _after_ with God. This is emphatically

the case with the Edwardses. Hence, foreknowledge infers necessity in no

other sense than it is inferred by present or concomitant knowledge. This

is also freely conceded by President Edwards. In what sense, then, does

present knowledge infer necessity? Let us see. I know a man is now walking

before me; does this prove that he could not help walking? that he is

necessitated to walk? It is plain that it infers no such thing. It infers

the necessary connexion, not between the act of the man in walking and the

causes impelling him thereto, but between my knowledge of the fact and the

existence of the fact itself. This is a necessary connexion between two

ideas, or propositions, and not between two events. This confusion is

perpetually made in the “great demonstration” from foreknowledge in favour

of necessity. It proves nothing, except that the greatest minds may be

deceived and misled by the ambiguities of language.

This argument, we say, only shows a necessary connexion between two ideas

or propositions. This is perfectly evident from the very words in which it

is often stated by the advocates of necessity. “I freely allow,” says

President Edwards, “that foreknowledge does not prove a thing necessary

any more than after-knowledge; but the after-knowledge, which is certain

and infallible, proves that it is now become impossible but that the

proposition known should be true.” Now, here we have a necessary connexion

between the certain and infallible knowledge of a thing, and the

infallible certainty of its existence! What has this to do with the

question about the will? If any man has ever undertaken to assert its

freedom, by denying the necessary connexion between two or more ideas,

propositions, or truths, this argument may be applied to him; we have

nothing to do with it.

Again: “To suppose the future volitions of moral agents,” says President

Edwards, “not to be necessary events; or, which is the same thing, events

which are not impossible but that they may not come to pass; and yet to

suppose that God certainly foreknows them, and knows all things, is to

suppose God’s knowledge to be inconsistent with itself. For to say, that

God certainly, and without all conjecture, knows that a thing will

infallibly be, which at the same time he knows to be so _contingent_ that

it may possibly not be, is to suppose his knowledge inconsistent with

itself; or that one thing he knows is utterly inconsistent with another

thing he knows. It is the same thing as to say, he now knows a proposition

to be of certain infallible truth which he knows to be of contingent

uncertain truth.” Now all this is true. If we affirm God’s foreknowledge

to be certain and at the same time to be uncertain, we contradict

ourselves. But what has this necessary connexion between the elements of

the divine foreknowledge, or between our propositions concerning them, to

do with the necessary connexion among _events_?

The question is not whether all future events will certainly come to pass;

or, in other words, whether all future events are future events; for this

is a truism, which no man in his right mind can possibly deny. But the

question is, whether all future events will be determined by necessitating

causes, or whether they may not be, in part, the free unnecessitated acts

of the human mind. This is the question, and let it not be lost sight of

in a cloud of logomachy. If all future events are necessitated, then all

past events are necessitated. But if we know anything, we know that all

present events are not necessitated, and hence, all future events will not

be necessitated. We deem it always safer to reason thus _from the known to

the unknown_, than to invert the process.

But suppose that foreknowledge proves that all human volitions are under

the influence of causes, in what sense does it leave them free? Does it

leave them free to depart from the influence of motives? By no means. It

would be a contradiction in terms, according to this argument, to say that

they are certainly and infallibly foreknown, and yet that they may

possibly not come to pass. Hence, if the argument proves anything, it

proves the absolute fatality of all human volitions. It leaves not a

fragment nor a shadow of moral liberty on earth.

If this argument prove anything to the purpose, then Luther was right in

declaring that “the foreknowledge of God is a thunderbolt to dash the

doctrine of free-will into atoms;” and Dr. Dick is right in affirming,

“that it is as impossible to avoid them” (our volitions) “as it is to

pluck the sun out of the firmament.”(158) It either proves all the most

absolute necessitarian could desire, or it proves nothing. In our humble

opinion it proves the latter.

On this point the testimony of Dr. Dick himself is explicit: “Whatever is

the foundation of his foreknowledge,” says he, “what he does foreknow will

undoubtedly take place. Hence, then, _the actions of men are as

unalterably fixed from eternity, as if they had been the subject of an

immutable decree_.”(159) But to dispel this grand illusion, it should be

remembered, that the actions of men will not come to pass because they are

foreknown; but they are foreknown because they will come to pass. The free

actions of men are clearly reflected back in the mirror of the divine

omniscience—they are not projected forward from the engine of the divine

omnipotence.

Since the argument in question proves so much, if it proves anything, we

need not wonder that it was employed by Cicero and other ancient Stoics to

establish the doctrine of an absolute and unconditional fate. “If the will

is free,” says he, “then fate does not rule everything, then the order of

all causes is not certain, and the order of things is no longer certain in

the prescience of God; if the order of things is not certain in the

prescience of God, then things will not take place as he foresees them;

and if things do not take place as he foresees, there is no foreknowledge

in God.” Thus, by a _reductio ad absurdum_, he establishes the position

that the will is not free, but fate rules all things. Edwards and Dick,

however, would only apply this argument to human volitions. But are not

the volitions of the divine mind also foreknown? Certainly they are; this

will not be denied. Hence, the very men who set out to exalt the power of

God and abase the glory of man, have, by this argument, raised a dominion,

not only over the power of man, but also over the power of God himself. In

other words, if this argument proves that we cannot act unless we be first

acted upon, and impelled to act, it proves no less in relation to God; and

hence, if it show the weakness and dependence of men, it also shows the

weakness and dependence of God. So apt are men to adopt arguments which

defeat their own object, whenever they have any other object than the

discovery of truth.

It is frequently said, as we have seen, that it is a contradiction to

affirm that a thing is foreknown, or will certainly come to pass, and that

it may possibly not come to pass. This position is at least as old as

Aristotle. But let it be borne in mind, that if this be a contradiction,

then future events are placed, not only beyond the power of man, but also

beyond the power of God itself; for it is conceded on all hands, that God

cannot work contradictions. This famous argument entirely overlooks the

question of power. It simply declares the thing to be a contradiction, and

as such, placed above all power. In other words, if it be absurd or

self-contradictory to say, that a future event is foreknown, and, at the

same time, _might_ not come to pass, this proposition is true of the

volitions of the divine no less than of the human mind; for they are all

alike foreknown. That is to say, if the argument from foreknowledge proves

that the volitions of man _might_ not have been otherwise than they are,

it proves precisely the same thing in regard to the volitions of God.

Thus, if this argument proves anything to the purpose, it reaches the

appalling position of Spinoza, that nothing in the universe could possibly

be otherwise than it is. And if this be so, then let the Calvinist decide

whether he will join with the Pantheist and fatalist, or give some little

quarter to the Arminian. Let him decide whether he will continue to employ

an argument which, if it proves anything, demonstrates the dependency of

the divine will as well as of the human; and instead of exalting the

adorable sovereignty of God, subjects him to the dominion of fate.

Part II.

THE EXISTENCE OF NATURAL EVIL, OR SUFFERING, CONSISTENT WITH THE GOODNESS

OF GOD.

The path of sorrow, and that path alone,

Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown.

But He, who knew what human hearts would prove,

How slow to learn the dictates of his love,

That, hard by nature and of stubborn will,

A life of ease would make them harder still,

In pity to the souls his grace design’d

For rescue from the ruin of mankind,

Call’d forth a cloud to darken all their years,

And said, “Go, spend them in the vale of tears.”—COWPER.

Chapter I.

God Desires And Seeks The Salvation of All Men.