FOOTNOTES:

[27] 'The _diaulos_ of the journey.' We recommend to the amateur in

words this Greek phrase, which expresses by one word an egress linked

with its corresponding regress, which indicates at once the voyage

outwards and the voyage inwards, as the briefest of expressions for what

is technically called '_course of post,' i.e._, the reciprocation of

post, its systole and diastole.

[28] Wordsworth.

_XX. THE PRINCIPLE OF EVIL._

We are not to suppose the rebel, or, more properly, corrupted

angels--the rebellion being in the result, not in the intention (which

is as little conceivable in an exalted spirit as that man should prepare

to make war on gravitation)--were essentially evil. Whether a principle

of evil--essential evil--anywhere exists can only be guessed. So gloomy

an idea is shut up from man. Yet, if so, possibly the angels and man

were nearing it continually.

Possibly after a certain approach to that Maelstrom recall might be

hopeless. Possibly many anchors had been thrown out to pick up, had

all dragged, and last of all came to the Jewish trial. (Of course,

under the Pagan absence of sin, _a fall was impossible_. A return was

impossible, in the sense that you cannot return to a place which you

have never left. Have I ever noticed this?) We are not to suppose that

the angels were really in a state of rebellion. So far from that, it

was evidently amongst the purposes of God that what are called false

Gods, and are so in the ultimate sense of resting on tainted

principles and tending to ruin--perhaps irretrievable (though it would

be the same thing practically if no restoration were possible but

through vast æons of unhappy incarnations)--but otherwise were as

real as anything can be into whose nature a germ of evil has entered,

should effect a secondary ministration of the last importance to man's

welfare. Doubt there can be little that without any religion, any

sense of dependency, or gratitude, or reverence as to superior

natures, man would rapidly have deteriorated; and that would have

tended to such destruction of all nobler principles--patriotism

(strong in the old world as with us), humanity, ties of parentage or

neighbourhood--as would soon have thinned the world; so that the

Jewish process thus going on must have failed for want of

correspondencies to the scheme--possibly endless oscillations which,

however coincident with plagues, would extirpate the human race. We

may see in manufacturing neighbourhoods, so long as no dependency

exists on masters, where wages show that not work, but workmen, are

scarce, how unamiable, insolent, fierce, are the people; the poor

cottagers on a great estate may sometimes offend you by too obsequious

a spirit towards all gentry. That was a transition state in England

during the first half of the eighteenth century, when few

manufacturers and merchants had risen to such a generous model. But

this leaves room for many domestic virtues that would suffer greatly

in the other state. Yet this is but a faint image of the total

independency. Oaths were sacred only through the temporal judgments

supposed to overtake those who insulted the Gods by summoning them to

witness a false contract. But this would have been only part of the

evil. So long as men acknowledged higher natures, they were doubtful

about futurity. This doubt had little strength on the side of hope,

but much on the side of fear. The blessings of any future state were

cheerless and insipid mockeries; so Achilles--how he bemoans his

state! But the torments were real. By far more, however, they,

through this coarse agency of syllogistic dread, would act to show man

the degradation of his nature when all light of a higher existence had

disappeared. That which did not exist for natures supposed capable

originally of immortality, how should it exist for him? And that man

must have observed with little attention what takes place in this

world if he needs to be told that nothing tends to make his own

species cheap and hateful in his eyes so certainly as moral

degradation driven to a point of no hope. So in squalid dungeons, in

captivities of slaves, nay, in absolute pauperism, all hate each other

fiercely. Even with us, how sad is the thought--that, just as a man

needs pity, as he is stript of all things, when most the sympathy of

men should settle on him, then most is he contemplated with a

hard-hearted contempt! The Jews when injured by our own oppressive

princes were despised and hated. Had they raised an empire, licked

their oppressors well, they would have been compassionately loved. So

lunatics heretofore; so galley-slaves--Toulon, Marseilles, etc. This

brutal principle of degradation soon developed in man. The Gods,

therefore, performed a great agency for man. And it is clear that God

did not discourage _common_ rites or rights for His altar or theirs.

Nay, he sent Israel to Egypt--as one reason--to learn ceremonies

amongst a people who sequestered them. In evil the Jews always clove

to their religion. Next the difficulty of people, miracles, though

less for false Gods, and least of all for the meanest, was _alike_ for

both. Astarte does not kill Sayth on the spot, but by a judgment.

Gods, no more their God, spake an instant law. Even the prophets are

properly no prophets, but only the mode of speech by God,--as clear as

He _can_ speak. Men mistake God's hate by their own. So neither could

He reveal Himself. A vast age would be required for seeing God.

But for the thought of man as evil (or of any other form of evil), as

reconcilable with their idea of a perfect God, a happy idea may, like

the categories, proceed upon a necessity for a perfect _inversion_ of

the _methodus conspiciendi_. Let us retrace, but in such a form as to be

apprehensible by all readers. Analytic and synthetic propositions at

once throw light upon the notion of a category. Once it had been a mere

abstraction; of no possible use except as a convenient cell for

referring (as in a nest of boxes), which may perhaps as much degrade the

idea as a relative of my own degraded the image of the crescent moon by

saying, in his abhorrence of sentimentality, that it reminded him of the

segment from his own thumb-nail when clean cut by an instrument called a

nail-cutter. This was the Aristotelian notion. But Kant could not

content himself with this idea. His own theory (1) as to time and space,

(2) the refutation of Hume's notion of cause, and (3) his own great

discovery of synthetic and analytic propositions, all prepared the way

for a totally new view. But, now, what is the origin of this necessity

applied to the category as founded in the synthesis? How does a

synthesis make itself or anything else necessary? Explain me that.

This was written perhaps a fortnight ago. Now, Monday, May 23 (day fixed

for Dan Good's execution), I _do_ explain it by what this moment I seem

to have discovered--the necessity of cause, of substance, etc., lies in

the intervening synthesis. This you _must_ pass through in the course

tending to and finally reaching the idea; for the analytical presupposes

this synthesis.

Not only must the energies of destruction be equal to those of creation,

but, in fact, perhaps by the trespassing a little of the first upon the

last, is the true advance sustained; for it must be an advance as well

as a balance. But you say this will but in other words mean that forces

devoted (and properly so) to production or creation are absorbed by

destruction. True; but the opposing phenomena will be going on in a

large ratio, and each must react on the other. The productive must meet

and correspond to the destructive. The destructive must revise and

stimulate the continued production.

_XXI. ON MIRACLES._

What else is the laying of such a stress on miracles but the case of 'a

wicked and adulterous generation asking a sign'?

But what are these miracles for? To prove a legislation from God. But,

first, this could not be proved, even if miracle-working were the test

of Divine mission, by doing miracles until we knew whether the power

were genuine; _i.e._, not, like the magicians of Pharaoh or the witch of

Endor, from below. Secondly, you are a poor, pitiful creature, that

think the power to do miracles, or power of any kind that can exhibit

itself in an act, the note of a god-like commission. Better is one ray

of truth (not seen previously by man), of _moral_ truth, _e.g._,

forgiveness of enemies, than all the powers which could create the

world.

'Oh yes!' says the objector; 'but Christ was holy as a man.' This we

know first; then we judge by His power that He must have been from God.

But if it were doubtful whether His power were from God, then, until

this doubt is _otherwise_, is independently removed, you cannot decide

if He _was_ holy by a test of holiness absolutely irrelevant. With other

holiness--apparent holiness--a simulation might be combined. You can

never tell that a man is holy; and for the plain reason that God only

can read the heart.

'Let Him come down from the cross, and we,' etc. Yes; they fancied so.

But see what would really have followed. They would have been stunned

and confounded for the moment, but not at all converted in heart. Their

hatred to Christ was not built on their unbelief, but their unbelief in

Christ was built on their hatred; and this hatred would not have been

mitigated by another (however astounding) miracle. This I wrote (Monday

morning, June 7, 1847) in reference to my saying on the general question

of miracles: Why these _dubious_ miracles?--such as curing blindness

that may have been cured by a _process_?--since the _unity_ given to the

act of healing is probably (more probably than otherwise) but the

figurative unity of the tendency to _mythus_; or else it is that unity

misapprehended and mistranslated by the reporters. Such, again, as the

miracles of the loaves--so liable to be utterly gossip, so incapable of

being watched or examined amongst a crowd of 7,000 people. Besides, were

these people mad? The very fact which is said to have drawn Christ's

pity, viz., their situation in the desert, surely could not have escaped

their own attention on going thither. Think of 7,000 people rushing to a

sort of destruction; for if less than that the mere inconvenience was

not worthy of Divine attention. Now, said I, why not give us (if

miracles _are_ required) one that nobody could doubt--removing a

mountain, _e.g._? Yes; but here the other party begin to _see_ the evil

of miracles. Oh, this would have _coerced_ people into believing! Rest

you safe as to that. It would have been no believing in any proper

sense: it would, at the utmost--and supposing no vital demur to popular

miracle--have led people into that belief which Christ Himself describes

(and regrets) as calling Him Lord! Lord! The pretended belief would have

left them just where they were as to any real belief in Christ.

Previously, however, or over and above all this, there would be the

demur (let the miracle have been what it might) of, By what power, by

whose agency or help? For if Christ does a miracle, probably He may do

it by alliance with some _Z_ standing behind, out of sight. Or if by His

own skill, how or whence derived, or of what nature? This obstinately

recurrent question remains.

There is not the meanest court in Christendom or Islam that would not

say, if called on to adjudicate the rights of an estate on such evidence

as the mere facts of the Gospel: 'O good God, how can we do this? Which

of us knows who this Matthew was--whether he ever lived, or, if so,

whether he ever wrote a line of all this? or, if he did, how situated as

to motives, as to means of information, as to judgment and

discrimination? Who knows anything of the contrivances or the various

personal interests in which the whole narrative originated, or when? All

is dark and dusty.' Nothing in such a case _can_ be proved but what

shines by its own light. Nay, God Himself could not attest a miracle,

but (listen to this!)--but by the internal revelation or visiting of the

Spirit--to evade which, to dispense with which, a miracle is ever

resorted to.

Besides the objection to miracles that they are not capable of

attestation, Hume's objection is not that they are false, but that they

are incommunicable. Two different duties arise for the man who witnesses

a miracle and for him who receives traditionally. The duty of the first

is to confide in his own experience, which may, besides, have been

repeated; of the second, to confide in his understanding, which says:

'Less marvel that the reporter should have erred than that nature should

have been violated.'

How dearly do these people betray their own hypocrisy about the divinity

of Christianity, and at the same time the meanness of their own natures,

who think the Messiah, or God's Messenger, must first prove His own

commission by an act of power; whereas (1) a new revelation of moral

forces could not be invented by all generations, and (2) an act of power

much more probably argues an alliance with the devil. I should gloomily

suspect a man who came forward as a magician.

Suppose the Gospels written thirty years after the events, and by

ignorant, superstitious men who have adopted the fables that old women

had surrounded Christ with--how does this supposition vitiate the report

of Christ's parables? But, on the other hand, they could no more have

invented the parables than a man alleging a diamond-mine could invent a

diamond as attestation. The parables prove themselves.

_XXII. 'LET HIM COME DOWN FROM THE CROSS.'_

Now, this is exceedingly well worth consideration. I know not at all

whether what I am going to say has been said already--life would not

suffice in every field or section of a field to search every nook and

section of a nook for the possibilities of chance utterance given to any

stray opinion. But this I know without any doubt at all, that it cannot

have been said effectually, cannot have been so said as to publish and

disperse itself; else it is impossible that the crazy logic current upon

these topics should have lived, or that many separate arguments should

ever for very shame have been uttered. Said or not said, let us presume

it unsaid, and let me state the true answer as if _de novo_, even if by

accident somewhere the darkness shelters this same answer as uttered

long ago.

Now, therefore, I will suppose that He _had_ come down from the Cross.

No case can so powerfully illustrate the filthy falsehood and pollution

of that idea which men generally entertain, which the sole creditable

books universally build upon. What would have followed? This would have

followed: that, inverting the order of every true emanation from God,

instead of growing and expanding for ever like a [symbol: <], it would

have attained its _maximum_ at the first. The effect for the half-hour

would have been prodigious, and from that moment when it began to flag

it would degrade rapidly, until, in three days, a far fiercer hatred

against Christ would have been moulded. For observe: into what state of

mind would this marvel have been received? Into any good-will towards

Christ, which previously had been defeated by the belief that He was an

impostor in the sense that He pretended to a power of miracles which in

fact He had not? By no means. The sense in which Christ had been an

impostor for them was in assuming a commission, a spiritual embassy with

appropriate functions, promises, prospects, to which He had no title.

How had that notion--not, viz., of miraculous impostorship, but of

spiritual impostorship--been able to maintain itself? Why, what should

have reasonably destroyed the notion? This, viz., the sublimity of His

moral system. But does the reader imagine that this sublimity is of a

nature to be seen intellectually--that is, insulated and _in vacuo_ for

the intellect? No more than by geometry or by a _sorites_ any man

constitutionally imperfect could come to understand the nature of the

sexual appetite; or a man born deaf could make representable to himself

the living truth of music, a man born blind could make representable the

living truth of colours. All men are not equally deaf in heart--far from

it--the differences are infinite, and some men never could comprehend

the beauty of spiritual truth. But no man could comprehend it without

preparation. That preparation was found in his training of Judaism;

which to those whose hearts were hearts of flesh, not stony and charmed

against hearing, had already anticipated the first outlines of Christian

ideas. Sin, purity, holiness unimaginable, these had already been

inoculated into the Jewish mind. And amongst the race inoculated Christ

found enough for a central nucleus to His future Church. But the natural

tendency under the fever-mist of strife and passion, evoked by the

present position in the world operating upon robust, full-blooded life,

unshaken by grief or tenderness of nature, or constitutional sadness, is

to fail altogether of seeing the features which so powerfully mark

Christianity. Those features, instead of coming out into strong relief,

resemble what we see in mountainous regions where the mist covers the

loftiest peaks.

We have heard of a man saying: 'Give me such titles of honour, so many

myriads of pounds, and then I will consider your proposal that I should

turn Christian.' Now, survey--pause for one moment to survey--the

immeasurable effrontery of this speech. First, it replies to a proposal

having what object--our happiness or his? Why, of course, his: how are

we interested, except on a sublime principle of benevolence, in his

faith being right? Secondly, it is a reply presuming money, the most

fleshly of objects, to modify or any way control religion, _i.e._, a

spiritual concern. This in itself is already monstrous, and pretty much

the same as it would be to order a charge of bayonets against

gravitation, or against an avalanche, or against an earthquake, or

against a deluge. But, suppose it were _not_ so, what incomprehensible

reasoning justifies the notion that not we are to be paid, but that he

is to be paid for a change not concerning or affecting our happiness,

but his?

_XXIII. IS THE HUMAN RACE ON THE DOWN GRADE?_

As to individual nations, it is matter of notoriety that they are often

improgressive. As a whole, it may be true that the human race is under a

necessity of slowly advancing; and it may be a necessity, also, that the

current of the moving waters should finally absorb into its motion that

part of the waters which, left to itself, would stagnate. All this may

be true--and yet it will not follow that the human race must be moving

constantly upon an ascending line, as thus:

B

/

/

/

/

/

/

A

nor even upon such a line, with continual pauses or rests interposed, as

thus:

[Illustration]

where there is no going back, though a constant interruption to the

going forward; but a third hypothesis is possible: there may be

continual loss of ground, yet so that continually the loss is more than

compensated, and the total result, for any considerable period of

observation, may be that progress is maintained:

[Illustration]

At O, by comparison with the previous elevation at A, there is a

repeated falling back; but still upon the whole, and pursuing the

inquiry through a sufficiently large segment of time, the constant

report is--ascent.

Upon this explanation it is perfectly consistent with a general belief

in the going forward of man--that this particular age in which we live

might be stationary, or might even have gone back. It cannot, therefore,

be upon any _à priori_ principle that I maintain the superiority of this

age. It is, and must be upon special examination, applied to the

phenomena of this special age. The last century, in its first thirty

years, offered the spectacle of a death-like collapse in the national

energies. All great interests suffered together. The intellectual power

of the country, spite of the brilliant display in a lower element, made

by one or two men of genius, languished as a whole. The religious

feeling was torpid, and in a degree which insured the strong reaction of

some irritating galvanism, or quickening impulse such as that which was

in fact supplied by Methodism. It is not with that age that I wish to

compare the present. I compare it with the age which terminated thirty

years ago--roused, invigorated, searched as that age was through all its

sensibilities by the electric shock of the French Revolution. It is by

comparison with an age so keenly alive, penetrated by ideas stirring and

uprooting, that I would compare it; and even then the balance of gain in

well-calculated resource, fixed yet stimulating ideals, I hold to be in

our favour--and this in opposition to much argument in an adverse spirit

from many and influential quarters. Indeed, it is a remark which more

than once I have been led to make in print: that if a foreigner were to

inquire for the moral philosophy, the ethics, and even for the

metaphysics, of our English literature, the answer would be, 'Look for

them in the great body of our Divinity.' Not merely the more scholastic

works on theology, but the occasional sermons of our English divines

contain a body of richer philosophical speculation than is elsewhere to

be found; and, to say the truth, far more instructive than anything in

our Lockes, Berkeleys, or other express and professional philosophers.

Having said this by way of showing that I do not overlook their just

pretensions, let me have leave to notice a foible in these writers which

is not merely somewhat ludicrous, but even seriously injurious to

truth. One and all, through a long series of two hundred and fifty

years, think themselves called upon to tax their countrymen--each

severally in his own age--with a separate, peculiar, and unexampled

guilt of infidelity and irreligion. Each worthy man, in his turn, sees

in his own age overt signs of these offences not to be matched in any

other. Five-and-twenty periods of ten years each may be taken,

concerning each of which some excellent writer may be cited to prove

that it had reached a maximum of atrocity, such as should not easily

have been susceptible of aggravation, but which invariably the _relays_

through all the subsequent periods affirm their own contemporaries to

have attained. Every decennium is regularly worse than that which

precedes it, until the mind is perfectly confounded by the _Pelion upon

Ossa_ which must overwhelm the last term of the twenty-five. It is the

mere necessity of a logical _sorites_, that such a horrible race of

villains as the men of the twenty-fifth decennium ought not to be

suffered to breathe. Now, the whole error arises out of an imbecile

self-surrender to the first impressions from the process of abstraction

as applied to remote objects. Survey a town under the benefit of a ten

miles' distance, combined with a dreamy sunshine, and it will appear a

city of celestial palaces. Enter it, and you will find the same filth,

the same ruins, the same disproportions as anywhere else. So of past

ages, seen through the haze of an abstraction which removes all

circumstantial features of deformity. Call up any one of those ages, if

it were possible, into the realities of life, and these worthy praisers

of the past would be surprised to find every feature repeated which they

had fancied peculiar to their own times. Meanwhile this erroneous

doctrine of sermons has a double ill consequence: first, the whole

chain of twenty-five writers, when brought together, consecutively

reflect a colouring of absurdity upon each other; separately they might

be endurable, but all at once, predicating (each of his own period

exclusively) what runs with a rolling fire through twenty-five such

periods in succession, cannot but recall to the reader that senseless

doctrine of a physical decay in man, as if man were once stronger,

broader, taller, etc.--upon which hypothesis of a gradual descent why

should it have stopped at any special point? How could the human race

have failed long ago to reach the point of _zero_? But, secondly, such a

doctrine is most injurious and insulting to Christianity. If, after

eighteen hundred years of development, it could be seriously true of

Christianity that it had left any age or generation of men worse in

conduct, or in feeling, or in belief, than all their predecessors, what

reasonable expectation could we have that in eighteen hundred years more

the case would be better? Such thoughtless opinions make Christianity to

be a failure.

_XXIV. BREVIA: SHORT ESSAYS (IN CONNECTION WITH EACH OTHER.)_

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