from the existence of evil against the existence of a providence that
superintended and influenced the destinies of the world, were put to no
little difficulty in accounting for the fact which they did not deny,
and yet maintaining the power of a divine ruler. The doctrine of a
double principle, or of two divine beings of opposite natures, one
beneficent, the other mischievous, was the solution which one class of
reasoners deemed satisfactory, and to which they held themselves driven
by the phenomena of the universe.
Others unable to deny, the existence of things which men denominate
evil, both physical and moral, explain them in a different way. They
maintained that physical evil only obtains the name from our imperfect
and vicious or feeble dispositions; that to a wise man there is no such
thing; that we may rise superior to all such groveling notions as make
us dread or repine at any events which can befall the body; that pain,
sickness, loss of fortune or of reputation, exile, death itself, are
only accounted ills by a weak and pampered mind; that if we find the
world tiresome, or woeful, or displeasing, we may at any moment quit
it; and that therefore we have no right whatever to call any suffering
connected with existence on earth an evil, because almost all sufferings
can be borne by a patient and firm mind; since if the situation we are
placed in becomes either intolerable, or upon the whole more painful
than agreeable, it is our own fault that we remain in it.
But these philosophers took a further view of the question which
especially applied to moral evil. They considered that nothing could be
more groundless than to suppose that if there were no evil there could
be any good in the world; and they illustrated this position by asking
how we could know anything of temperance, fortitude or justice, unless
there were such things as excess, cowardice and injustice.
These were the doctrines of the Stoics, from whose sublime and
impracticable philosophy they seemed naturally enough to flow. Aulus
Gellius relates that the last-mentioned argument was expounded by
Chrysippus, in his work upon providence. The answer given by Plutarch
seems quite sufficient: “As well might you say that Achilles could not
have a fine head of hair unless Thersites had been bald; or that one
man’s limbs could not be all sound if another had not the gout.”
In truth, the Stoical doctrine proceeds upon the assumption that all
virtue is only the negative of vice; and is as absurd, if indeed it
be not the very same absurdity, as the doctrine which should deny the
existence of affirmative or positive truths, resolving them all into the
opposite of negative propositions. Indeed, if we even were to admit this
as an abstract position, the actual existence of evil would still be
unnecessary to the idea, and still more to the existence, of good. For
the conception of evil, the bare idea of its possibility, would be quite
sufficient, and there would be no occasion for a single example of it.
The other doctrine, that of two opposite principles, was embraced by
most of the other sects, as it should seem, at some period or other
of their inquiries. Plato himself, in his later works, was clearly
a supporter of the system; for he held that there were at least two
principles, a good and an evil; to which he added a third, the moderator
or mediator between them.
Whether this doctrine was, like many others, imported into Greece from
the East, or was the natural growth of the schools, we cannot ascertain.
Certain it is that the Greeks themselves believed it to have been taught
by Zoroaster in Asia, at least five centuries before the Trojan war; so
that it had an existence there long before the name of philosophy was
known in the western world.
Zoroaster’s doctrine agreed in every respect with Plato’s; for besides
Oomazes, the good, and Arimanius, the evil principle, he taught that
there was a third, or mediatory one, called Mithras. That it never
became any part of the popular belief in Greece or Italy is quite clear.
All the polytheism of those countries recognized each of the gods
as authors alike of good and evil. Nor did even the chief of the
divinities, under whose power the rest were placed, offer any exception
to the general rule; for Jupiter not only gave good from one urn and ill
from another, but he was also, according to the barbarous mythology of
classical antiquity, himself a model at once of human perfections and of
human vices.
After the light of the Christian religion had made some way toward
supplanting the ancient polytheism, the doctrine of two principles was
broached; first by Marcion, who lived in the time of Adrian and Antonius
Pius, early in the second century; and next by Manes, a hundred years
later. He was a Persian slave, who was brought into Greece, where he
taught this doctrine, since known by his name, having learned it, as is
said, from Scythianus, an Arabian. The Manichean doctrines, afterwards
called also Paulician, from a great teacher of them in the seventh
century, were like almost all the heresies in the primitive church, soon
mixed up with gross impurities of sacred rites as well as extravagant
absurdities of creed.
The Manicheans were, probably as much on this account as from the spirit
of religious intolerance, early the objects of severe persecution; and
the Code of Justinian itself denounces capital punishment against any of
the sect, if found within the Roman dominions.
It must be confessed that the theory of two principles, when kept free
from the absurdities and impurities which were introduced into the
Manichean doctrine, is not unnaturally adopted by men who have no
aid from the light of revelation,[1] and who are confounded by the
appearance of a world where evil and good are mixed together, or seem to
struggle with one another, sometimes the one prevailing, and sometimes
the other; and accordingly, in all countries, in the most barbarous
nations, as well as among the most refined, we find plain traces of
reflecting men having been driven to this solution of the difficulty.
It seems upon a superficial view to be very easily deducible from
the phenomena; and as the idea of infinite power, with which it is
manifestly inconsistent, does by no means so naturally present itself to
the mind, as long as only a very great degree of power, a power which in
comparison of all human force may be termed infinite, is the attribute
with which the Deity is believed to be endued. Manichean hypothesis is
by no means so easily refuted. That the power of the Deity was supposed
to have limits even in the systems of the most enlightened heathens is
unquestionable. They, generally speaking, believed in the eternity
of matter, and conceived some of its qualities to be so essentially
necessary to its existence that no divine agency could alter them.
They ascribed to the Deity a plastic power, a power not of creating or
annihilating, but only of moulding, disposing and moving matter. So over
mind they generally give him the like power, considering it as a kind
of emanation from his own greater mind or essence, and destined to be
re-united with him hereafter. Nay, over all the gods, and of superior
potency to any, they conceived fate to preside; an overruling and
paramount necessity, of which they formed some dark conceptions, and to
which the chief of all the gods was supposed to submit. It is, indeed,
extremely difficult to state precisely what the philosophic theory of
theology was in Greece and Rome, because the wide difference between the
esoteric and exoteric doctrines, between the belief of the learned
few and the popular superstition, makes it very difficult to avoid
confounding the two, and lending to the former some of the grosser
errors with which the latter abounded. Nevertheless, we may rely upon
what has been just stated, as conveying, generally speaking, the opinion
of philosophers, although some sects certainly had a still more scanty
measure of belief.
But we shall presently find that in the speculation of the much more
enlightened moderns, Christians of course, errors of a like kind are
to be traced. They constantly argue the great question of evil upon a
latent assumption, that the power of the Deity is restricted by some
powers or qualities inherent in matter; notions analogous to that of
faith are occasionally perceptible; not stated or expanded indeed into
propositions, but influencing the course of the reasoning; while the
belief of infinite attributes is never kept steadily in view, except
when it is called in as requisite to refute the Manichean doctrines.
Some observers of the controversy have indeed not scrupled to affirm
that those of whom we speak are really Manicheans without knowing it;
and build their systems upon assumptions secretly borrowed from the
disciples of Zoroaster, without ever stating those assumptions openly in
the form of postulates or definition.
The refutation of the Manichean hypothesis is extremely easy if we
be permitted to assume that both the principles which it supposes are
either of infinite power or of equal power. If they are of infinite
power, the supposition of their co-existence involves a contradiction in
terms; for the one being in opposition to the other, the power of each
must be something taken from that of the other; consequently neither
can be of infinite power. If, again, we only suppose both to be of equal
power, and always acting against each other, there could be nothing
whatever done, neither good or evil; the universe would be at a
standstill; or rather no act of creation could ever have been performed,
and no existence could be conceived beyond that of the two antagonistic
principles.
Archbishop Tillotson’s argument, properly speaking, amounts to this
last proposition, and is applicable to equal and opposite principles,
although he applies it to two beings, both infinitely powerful and
counteracting one another. When he says they would tie up each other’s
bands, he might apply this argument to such antagonistic principles if
only equal, although not infinitely powerful. The hypothesis of their
being both infinitely powerful needs no such refutation; it is a
contradiction in terms. But it must be recollected that the advocates of
the Manichean doctrine endeavor to guard themselves against the attack
by contending, that the conflict between the two principles ends in a
kind of compromise, so that neither has it all his own way; there is a
mixture of evil admitted by the good principle, because else the whole
would beat a standstill; while there is much good admitted by the evil
principle, else nothing, either good or evil, would be done. Another
answer is therefore required to this theory than what Tillotson and his
followers have given.
_First_, we must observe that this reasoning of the Manicheans proceeds
upon the analogy of what we see in mortal contentions; where neither
party having the power to defeat the other, each is content to yield
a little to his adversary, and so, by mutual concession, both are
successful to some extent, and both to some extent disappointed. But in
a speculation concerning the nature of the Deity, there seems no place
for such notions.
_Secondly_, the equality of power is not an arbitrary assumption; it
seems to follow from the existence of the two opposing principles. For
if they are independent of one another as to existence, which they must
needs be, else one would immediately destroy the other, so must they
also, in each particular instance, be independent of each other, and
also equal each to the other, else one would have the mastery, and
the influence of the other could not be perceived. To say that in some
things the good principle prevails and in others the evil, is really
saying nothing more than that good exists here and evil there. It
does not further the argument one step, nor give anything like an
explanation. For it must always be borne in mind that the whole question
respecting the Origin of Evil proceeds upon the assumption of a wise,
benevolent and powerful Being having created the world. The difficulty,
and the only difficulty, is, how to reconcile existing evil with such
a Being’s attributes; and if the Manichean only explains this by saying
the good Being did what is good, and another and evil Being did what is
bad in the universe, he really tells us nothing more than the fact; he
does not apply his explanation to the difficulty; and he supposes the
existence of a second Deity gratuitously and to no kind of purpose.
But, _thirdly_, in whatever light we view the hypothesis, it seems
exposed to a similar objection, namely, of explaining nothing in its
application, while it is wholly gratuitous in itself. It assumes, of
course, that creation was the act of the good Being; and it also assumes
that Being’s goodness to have been perfect, though his power is limited.
Then as he must have known the existence of the evil principle and
foreseen the certainty of misery being occasioned by his existence, why
did he voluntarily create sentient beings, to put them, in some respects
at least, under the evil one’s power, and thus be exposed to suffering?
The good Being, according to this theory, is the remote cause of the
evil which is endured, because but for his act of creation the evil
Being could have had, no subjects whereon to work mischief; so that
the hypothesis wholly fails in removing, by more than one step, the
difficulty which it was invented to solve.
_Fourthly_, there is no advantage gained to the argument by supposing
two Beings, rather than one Being of a mixed nature. The facts lead
to this supposition just as naturally as to the hypothesis of two
principles. The existence of the evil Being is as much a detraction from
the power of the good one, as if we only at once suppose the latter to
be of limited power, and that he prefers making and supporting creatures
who suffer much less than they enjoy, to making no creatures at all. The
supposition that he made them as happy as he could, and that not being
able to make them less miserable, he yet perceived that upon the whole
their existence would occasion more happiness than if they never had
any being at all, will just account for the phenomena as well as
the Manichean theory, and will as little as that theory assume any
malevolence in the power which created and preserved the universe. If,
however, it be objected that this hypothesis leaves unexplained the
fetters upon the good Being’s power, the answer is obvious; it leaves
those fetters not at all less explained than the Manichean theory does;
for that theory gives no explanation of the existence of a counteracting
principle, and it assumes both an antagonistic power, to limit the
Deity’s power, and a malevolent principle to set the antagonistic power
in motion; whereas our supposition assumes no malevolence at all, but
only a restraint upon the divine power.
_Fifthly_, this leads us to another and most formidable objection.
To conceive the eternal existence of one Being infinite in power,
“self-created and creating all others,” is by no means impossible.
Indeed, as everything must have had a cause, nothing we see being
by possibility self-created, we naturally mount from particulars to
generals, until finally we rise to the idea of a first cause, uncreated,
and self-existing, and eternal. If the phenomena compels us to affix
limits to his goodness, we find it impossible to conceive limits to
the power of a creative, eternal, self-existing principle. But even
supposing we could form the conception of such a Being having his power
limited as well as his goodness, still we can conceive no second Being
independent of him. This would necessarily lead to the supposition
of some third Being, above and antecedent to both, and the creator of
both--the real first cause--and then the whole question would be to
solve over again,--Why these two antagonistic Beings were suffered to
exist by the great Being of all?
The Manichean doctrine, then, is exposed to every objection to which
a theory can be obnoxious. It is gratuitous; it is inapplicable to the
facts; it supposes more causes than are necessary; it fails to explain
the phenomena, leaving the difficulties exactly where it found them.
Nevertheless, such is the theory, how easily soever refuted when openly
avowed and explicitly stated, which in various disguises appears to
pervade the explanations, given of the facts by most of the other
systems; nay, to form, secretly and unacknowledged, their principal
ground-work. For it really makes very little difference in the matter
whether we are to account for evil by holding that the Deity has created
as much happiness as was consistent with “the nature of things,” and
has taken every means of avoiding all evil except “where it necessarily
existed” or at once give those limiting influences a separate and
independent existence, and call them by a name of their own, which is
the Manichean hypothesis.
The most remarkable argument on this subject, and the most distinguished
both for its clear and well ordered statement, and for the systematic
shape which it assumes, is that of Archbishop King. It is the great
text-book of those who study this subject; and like the famous legal
work of Littleton, it has found an expounder yet abler and more learned
than the author himself. Bishop Law’s commentary is full of information,
of reasoning and of explication; nor can we easily find anything
valuable upon the subject which is not contained in the volumes of
that work. It will, however, only require a slight examination of the
doctrines maintained by these learned and pious men, to satisfy us that
they all along either assume the thing to be proved, or proceed
upon suppositions quite inconsistent with the infinite power of the
Deity--the only position which raises a question, and which makes the
difficulty that requires to be solved.
According to all the systems as well as this one, evil is of two
kinds--physical and moral. To the former class belong all the sufferings
to which sentient beings are exposed from the qualities and affections
of matter independent of their own acts; the latter class consists of
the sufferings of whatever kind which arise from their own conduct. This
division of the subject, however, is liable to one serious objection;
it comprehends under the second head a class of evils which ought more
properly to be ranged under the first. Nor is this a mere question of
classification: it affects the whole scope of the argument. The second
of the above-mentioned classes comprehends both the physical evils which
human agency causes, but which it would have no power to cause unless
the qualities of matter were such as to produce pain, privation and
death; and also the moral evil of guilt which may possibly exist
independent of material agency, but which, whether independent or not
upon that physical action, is quite separable from it, residing wholly
in the mind. Thus a person who destroys the life of another produces
physical evil by means of the constitution of matter, and moral evil
is the source of his wicked action. The true arrangement then is this:
Physical evil is that which depends on the constitution of matter,
or only is so far connected with the constitution of mind as that the
nature and existence of a sentient being must be assumed in order to its
mischief being felt. And this physical evil is of two kinds; that which
originates in human action, and that which is independent of human
action, befalling us from the unalterable course of nature. Of the
former class are the pains, privations and destruction inflicted by men
one upon another; of the latter class are diseases, old age and death.
Moral evil consists in the crimes, whether of commission or omission,
which men are guilty of--including under the latter head those
sufferings which we endure from ill-regulated minds through want of
fortitude or self-control. It is clear that as far as the question
of the origin of evil is concerned, the first of these two classes,
physical evil, depends upon the properties of matter, and the last
upon those of mind. The second as well as the first subdivision of the
physical class depends upon matter; because, however ill-disposed the
agent’s mind may be, he could inflict the mischief only in consequence
of the constitution of matter. Therefore, the Being, who created matter
enabled him to perpetrate the evil, even admitting that this Being did
not, by creating the mind also give rise to the evil disposition; and
admitting that, as far as regards this disposition it has the same
origin with the evil of the second class, or moral evil, the acts of a
rational agent.
It is quite true that many reasoners refuse to allow any distinction
between the evil produced by natural causes and the evils caused by
rational agents, whether as regards their own guilt, or the mischief it
caused to others. Those reasoners deny that the creation of man’s will
and the endowing it with liberty explains anything; they hold that the
creation of a mind whose will is to do evil, amounts to the same thing,
and belongs to the same class, with the creation of matter whose nature
is to give pain and misery. But this position, which involves
the doctrine of necessity, must, at the very least, admit of one
modification. Where no human agency whatever is interposed, and the
calamity comes without any one being to blame for it, the mischief seems
a step, and a large step, nearer the creative or the superintending
cause, because it is, as far as men go, altogether inevitable. The main
tendency of the argument, therefore, is confined to physical evil; and
this has always been found the most difficult to account for, that is to
reconcile with the government of a perfectly good and powerful Being.
It would indeed be very easily explained, and the reconcilement would be
readily made, if we were at liberty to suppose matter independent in
its existence, and in certain qualities, of the divine control; but this
would be to suppose the Deity’s power limited and imperfect, which is
just one horn of the Epicurean dilemma, _“Aut vult et non potest;”_ and
in assuming this, we do not so much beg the question as wholly give it
up and admit we cannot solve the difficulty. Yet obvious as this is, we
shall presently see that the reasoners who have undertaken the solution,
and especially King and Law, under such phrases as “the nature of
things,” and “the laws of the material universe,” have been constantly,
through the whole argument, guilty of this _petitio principii_ (begging
the question), or rather this abandonment of the whole question, and
never more so than at the very moment when they complacently plumed
themselves upon having overcome the difficulty.
Having premised these observations for the purpose of clearing the
ground and avoiding confusion in the argument, we may now consider that
Archbishop King’s theory is in both its parts; for there are in truth
two distinct explanations, the one resembling an argument _a priori_,
the other an argument _a posteriori_. It is, however, not a little
remarkable that Bishop Law, in the admirable abstract or analysis which
he gives of the Archbishop’s treatise at the end of his preface, begins
with the second branch, omitting all mention of the first, as if he
considered it to be merely introductory matter; and yet his fourteenth
note (t. cap. I s. 3.) shows that he was aware of its being an argument
wholly independent of the rest of the reasonings; for he there says
that the author had given one demonstration _a priori_, and that no
difficulties raised by an examination of the phenomena, no objection _a
posteriori_, ought to overrule it, unless these difficulties are equally
certain and clear with the demonstration, and admit of no solution
consistent with that demonstration.