When the Deity, it is said, resolved to create other beings, He must of
necessity tolerate imperfect natures in his handiwork, just as he must
the equality of a circle’s radii when he drew a circle. Who does not
perceive the difference? The meaning of the word circle is that the
radii are all equal; this equality is a necessary truth. But it is not
shown that men could not exist without the imperfections they labor
under. Yet this is the argument suggested by these authors while
complaining (chap. v. s. 5, sub. 7, div. 7), that Lactantius had not
sufficiently answered the Epicurean dilemma; it is the substitute
propounded to supply that father’s deficiency.--“When, therefore,” says
the Archbishop, “matter, motion and free-will are constituted, the Deity
must necessarily permit corruption of things and the abuse of
liberty, or something worse, for these cannot be separated without a
contradiction, and God is no more important, because he cannot separate
equality of radii from a circle.”--Chap. v. s. 5, subs. 7. If he could
not have created evil, he would not have been omnipotent; if he would
not, he must let his power lie idle; and rejecting evil have
rejected all the good. “Thus,” exclaims the author with triumph and
self-complacency, “then vanishes this Herculean argument which induced
the Epicureans to discard the good Deity, and the Manicheans to
substitute an evil one.” (_Ib._ subs. 7, _sub. fine._) Nor is the
explanation rendered more satisfactory, or indeed more intelligible,
by the concluding passage of all, in which we are told that “from a
conflict of two properties, namely, omnipotence and goodness, evils
necessarily arise. These attributes amicably conspire together, and yet
restrain and limit each other.” It might have been expected from hence
that no evil at all should be found to exist. “There is a kind of
struggle and opposition between them, whereof the evils in nature bear
the shadow and resemblance. Here, then, and no where else, mar we find
the primary and most certain rise and origin of evils.”
Such is this celebrated work; and it may safely be affirmed that a more
complete failure to overcome a great and admitted difficulty--a more
unsatisfactory solution of an important question--is not to be found in
the whole history of metaphysical science.
Among the authors who have treated of this subject, a high place is
justly given to Archdeacon Bulguy, whose work on _Divine Benevolence_ is
always referred to by Dr. Paley with great commendation. But certain it
is that this learned and pious writer either had never formed to himself
a very precise notion of the real question under discussion, namely, the
compatibility of the appearances which we see and which we consider as
evil, with a Being infinitely powerful as well as good; or he had in his
mind some opinions respecting the divine nature, opinions of a limitary
kind, which he does not state distinctly, although he constantly suffers
them to influence his seasonings. Hence, whenever he comes close to the
real difficulty he appears to beg the question. A very few instances
of what really pervades the whole work will suffice to show how
unsatisfactory its general scope is, although it contains, like
the treatise of Dr. King and Dr. Law’s Commentary, many valuable
observations on the details of the subject.
And first we may perceive that what he terms a _“previous remark,”_ and
desires the reader “to carry along through the whole proof of divine
benevolence,” really contains a statement that _the difficulty is to be
evaded and not met._ “An intention of producing good,” says he, “will be
sufficiently apparent in any particular instance if the thing considered
can neither be changed nor taken away without loss or harm, _all other
things continuing the same._ Should you suppose _various_ things in the
system changed _at once_, you can neither judge of the possibility
nor the consequences of the changes, having no degree of experience to
direct you.” Now assuredly this postulate makes the whole question as
easy a one as ever metaphysician or naturalist had to solve. For it is
no longer--Why did a powerful and benevolent Being create a world in
which there is evil--but only--The world being given, how far are its
different arrangements consistent with one another? According to this,
the earthquake at Lisbon, Voltaire’s favorite instance, destroyed
thousands of persons, because it is in the nature of things that
subterraneous vapors should explode, and that when houses fall on human
beings they should be killed. Then if Dr. Balguy goes to his other
argument, on which he often dwells, that if this nature were altered,
we cannot possibly tell whether worse might not ensue; this, too, is
assuming a limited power in the Deity, contrary to the hypothesis.
It may most justly be said, that if there be any one supposition
necessarily excluded from the whole argument, it is the fundamental
supposition of the “previous remark,” namely, “all other things
continuing the same.”
But see how this assumption pervades and paralyzes the whole argument,
rendering it utterly inconclusive. The author is to answer an objection
derived from the constitution of our appetites for food, and his reply
is, that “we cannot tell how far it was _possible_ for the stomachs and
palates of animals to be differently formed, unless by some remedy worse
than the disease.” Again, upon the question of pain: “How do we know
that it was _possible_ for the uneasy sensation to be confined to
particular cases?” So we meet the same fallacy under another form,
as evil being the result of “general principles.” But no one has ever
pushed this so far as Dr. Balguy, for he says, “that in a government so
conducted, many events are likely to happen contrary to the intention
of its author.” He now calls in the aid of chance, or accident.--“It is
probable,” he says, “that God should be good, for evil is more likely
to be _accidental_ than appears from experience in the conduct of men.”
Indeed, his fundamental position of the Deity’s benevolence is rested
upon this foundation, that “pleasures only were intended, and that
the pains are accidental consequences, although the means of producing
pleasures.” The same recourse to accident is repeatedly had. Thus, “the
events to which we are exposed in this imperfect state appear to be the
_accidental_, not natural, effects of our frame and condition.” Now can
any one thing be more manifest than that the very first notion of a wise
and powerful Being excludes all such assumptions as things happening
contrary to His intention; and that when we use the word chance or
accident, which only means our human ignorance of causes, we at once
give up the whole question, as if we said, “It is a subject about
which we know nothing.” So again as to power. “A good design is more
_difficult_ to be executed, and therefore more likely to be executed
_imperfectly_, than an evil one, that is, with a mixture of effects
foreign to the design and opposite to it.” This at once assumes the
Deity to be powerless. But a general statement is afterwards made more
distinctly to the same effect. “Most sure it is that he can do all
things possible. But are we in any degree competent judges of the bounds
of possibility?” So again under another form nature is introduced as
something different from its author, and offering limits to his
power. “It is plainly not the method of nature to obtain her ends
instantaneously.” Passing over such propositions as that “_useless_ evil
is a thing never seen,” (when the whole question is why the same ends
were not attained without evil), and a variety of other subordinate
assumptions contrary to the hypothesis, we may rest with this general
statement, which almost every page of Dr. Balguy’s book bears out, that
the question which he has set himself to solve is anything rather than
the real one touching the Origin of Evil; and that this attempt at
a solution is as ineffectual as any of those which we have been
considering.
Is, then, the question wholly incapable of solution, which all these
learned and ingenious men have so entirely failed in solving? Must
the difficulty remain forever unsurmounted, and only be approached to
discover that it is insuperable? _Must the subject, of all others the
most interesting for us to know well, be to us always as a sealed book,
of which we can never know anything?_ From the nature of the thing--from
the question relating to the operation of a power which, to our limited
faculties, must ever be incomprehensible--there seems too much reason
for believing that nothing precise or satisfactory ever will be attained
by human reason regarding this great argument; and that the bounds
which limit our views will only be passed when we have quitted the
encumbrances of our mortal state, and are permitted to survey those
regions beyond the sphere of our present circumscribed existence. The
other branch of Natural Theology, that which investigates the evidences
of Intelligence and Design, and leads us to a clear apprehension of the
Deity’s power and wisdom, is as satisfactorily cultivated as any other
department of science, rests upon the same species of proof, and affords
results as precise as they are sublime. This branch will never be
distinctly known, and will always so disappoint the inquirer as to
render the lights of Revelation peculiarly acceptable, although
even those lights leave much of it still involved in darkness--still
mysterious and obscure.[2]
Yet let us endeavor to suggest some possible explication, while we admit
that nothing certain, nothing entirely satisfactory can be reached. The
failure of the great writers whose works we have been contemplating may
well teach us humility, make us distrust ourselves, and moderate within
us any sanguine hopes of success. But they should not make us wholly
despair of at least showing in what direction the solution of the
difficulty is to be sought, and whereabouts it will probably be found
situated, when our feeble reason shall be strengthened and expanded.
For one cause of their discomfiture certainly has been their aiming too
high, attempting a complete solution of a problem which only admitted of
approximation, and discussion of limits.
It is admitted on all hands that the demonstration is complete which
shows the existence of intelligence and design in the universe. The
structure of the eye and ear in exact confirmity to the laws of optics
and acoustics, shows as clearly as any experiment can show anything,
that the source, cause or origin is common both to the properties of
light and the formation of the lenses and retina in the eye--both to the
properties of sound and the tympanum, malleus, incus and stapes of the
ear. No doubt whatever can exist upon the subject, any more than, if
we saw a particular order issued to a body of men to perform certain
uncommon evolutions, and afterwards saw the same body performing those
same evolutions, we could doubt their having received the order. A
designing and intelligent and skillful author of these admirably adapted
works is equally a clear inference from the same facts. We can no more
doubt it than we can question, when we see a mill grinding corn into
flour, that the machinery was made by some one who designed by means of
it to prepare the materials of bread. The same conclusions are drawn
in a vast variety of other instances, both with respect to the parts
of human and other bodies, and with respect to most of the other
arrangements of nature. Similar conclusions are also drawn from our
consciousness, and the knowledge which it gives us of the structure of
the mind.[3] Thus we find that attention quickens memory and enables us
to recollect; and that habit renders all exertions and all acquisitions
easy, beside having the effect of alleviating pain.
But when we carry our survey into other parts, whether of the natural
or moral system, we cannot discover any design at all. We frequently
perceive structures the use of which we know nothing about; parts of the
animal frame that apparently have no functions to perform--nay, that
are the source of pain without yielding any perceptible advantage;
arrangements and movements of bodies which are of one particular kind,
and yet we are quite at a loss to discern any reason why they might not
have been of many other descriptions; operations of nature that seem to
serve no purpose whatever; and other operations and other arrangements,
chosen equally without any beneficial view, and yet which often give
rise to much apparent confusion and mischief. Now, the question is,
_first_, whether in any one of these cases of arrangement and structures
with no visible object at all, we can for a moment suppose that there
really is no object answered, or only conceive that we have been
unable to discover it? _Secondly_, whether in the cases where mischief
sometimes is perceived, and no other purpose appears to be effected,
we do not almost as uniformly lay the blame on our own ignorance, and
conclude, not that the arrangement was made without any design, and that
mischief arises without any contriver, but that if we knew the whole
case we should find a design and contrivance, and also that the apparent
mischief would sink into the general good? It is not necessary to admit,
for our present purpose, this latter proposition, though it brings us
closer to the matter in hand; it is sufficient for the present to admit,
what no one doubts, that when a part of the body, for instance, is
discovered, to which, like the spleen, we cannot assign any function in
the animal system, we never think of concluding that it is made for no
use, but only that we have as yet not been able to discover its use.
Now, let us ask, why do we, without any hesitation whatever, or any
exception whatever, always and immediately arrive at this
conclusion respecting intelligence and design? Nothing could be more
unphilosophical, nay, more groundless, than such a process of reasoning,
if we had only been able to trace design in one or two instances; for
instance, if we found only the eye to show proofs of contrivance, it
would be wholly gratuitous, when we saw the ear, to assume that it was
adapted to the nature of sound, and still more so, if, on examination,
we perceived it bore no perceptible relation to the laws of acoustics.
The proof of contrivance in one particular is nothing like a proof,
nay, does not even furnish the least presumption of contrivance in other
particulars; because, _a priori_, it is just as easy to suppose one part
of nature to be designed for a purpose, and another part, nay, all other
parts, to be formed at random and without any contrivance, as to suppose
that the formation of the whole is governed by design. Why, then, do we,
invariably and undoubtedly, adopt the course of reasoning which has been
mentioned, and never for a moment suspect anything to be formed without
some reason--some rational purpose? The only ground of this belief is,
that we have been able distinctly to trace design in so vast a majority
of cases as leaves us no power of doubting that, if our faculties had
been sufficiently powerful, or our investigation sufficiently diligent,
we should also have been able to trace it in those comparatively few
instances respecting which we still are in the dark.
It may be worth while to give a few instances of the ignorance in which
we once were of design in some important arrangements of nature, and
of the knowledge which we now possess to show the purpose of their
formation. Before Sir Isaac Newton’s optical discoveries, we could not
tell why the structure of the eye was so complex, and why several lenses
and humors were required to form a picture of objects upon the retina.
Indeed, until Dolland’s subsequent discovery of the achromatic effect of
combining various glasses, and Mr. Blair’s still more recent experiments
on the powers of different refracting media, we were not able distinctly
to perceive the operation and use of the complicacy in the structure of
the eye. We now well understand its nature, and are able to comprehend
how that which had at one time, nay, for ages, seemed to be an
unnecessary complexity; forms the most perfect of all optical
instruments, and according to the most certain laws of refraction and of
dispersion.
So, too, we had observed for some centuries the forms of the orbits in
which the heavenly bodies move, and we had found these to be ellipses
with a very small eccentricity. But why this was the form of those
orbits no one could even conjecture. If any person, the most deeply
skilled in mathematical science, and the most internally convinced of
the universal prevalence of design and contrivance in the structure
of the universe, had been asked what reason there was for the planets
moving in ellipses so, nearly approaching to circles, he could not
have given any good reason, at least beyond a guess. The force of
gravitation, even admitting that to be, as it were, a condition of the
creation of matter, would have made those bodies revolve in ellipses
of any degree of eccentricity just as well, provided the angle and the
force of projection had been varied. Then, why was this form rather,
than any other chosen? No one knew; yet no one doubted that there was
ample reason for it. Accordingly the sublime discoveries of Lagrange
and La Place have shown us that this small eccentricity is one material
element in the formula by which it is shown that all the irregularities
of the system are periodical, and that the deviation never can exceed a
certain amount on either hand.
But, again, while we are ignorant of this, perhaps the most sublime
truth in all science, we were always arguing as if the system had an
imperfection, as if the disturbing forces of the different planets and
the sun, acting on one another, constantly changed the orbits of each
planet, and must, in a course of ages, work the destruction of the whole
planetary arrangement which we had contemplated with so great
admiration and with awe. It was deemed enough if we could show that
this derangement must be extremely slow, and that, therefore, the system
might last for many more ages without requiring any interposition of
omnipotent skill to preserve it by rectifying its motions. Thus one of
the most celebrated writers above cited argues that, “from the nature
of gravitation and the concentricity of the orbits, the irregularities
produced are so slowly operated in contracting, dilating and inclining
those orbits, that the system may go on for many thousand years before
any extraordinary interference becomes necessary in order to correct
it.” And Dr. Burnett adds, that “those small irregularities cast no
discredit on the good contrivance of the whole.” Nothing, however,
could cast greater discredit if it were as he supposed, and as all men
previous to the late discoveries supposed; it was only, they rather
think, a “small irregularity,” which was every hour tending to the
destruction of the whole system, and which must have deranged or
confounded its whole structure long before it destroyed it. Yet now
we see that the wisdom, to which a thousand years are as one day, not
satisfied with constructing a fabric which might last for “many thousand
years without His interference,” has so formed it that it may thus
endure forever.
Now if such be the grounds of our belief in the universal prevalence of
Design, and such the different lights which at different periods of
our progress in science we possess upon this branch of the divine
government; if we undoubtingly believe that contrivance is universal
only because we can trace and comprehend it in a great majority of
instances, and if the number of exceptions to the rule is occasionally
diminished as our knowledge of the particulars is from time to time
extended--may we not apply the same principle to the apprehension of
Benevolent purpose, and infer from the number of instances in which we
plainly perceive a good intention, that if we were better acquainted
with those cases in which a contrary intention is now apparent, we
should there, too, find the generally pervading character of Benevolence
to prevail? Not only is this the manner in which we reason respecting
the Design of the Creator from examining his works; it is the manner in
which we treat the conduct of our fellow-creatures. A man of the most
extensive benevolence and strictest integrity in his general deportment
has done something equivocal; nay, something apparently harsh and cruel;
we are slow to condemn him; we give him credit for acting with a good
motive and for a righteous purpose; we rest satisfied that “if we only
knew everything he would come out blameless.” This arises from a just
and a sound view of human character, and its general consistency with
itself. The same reasoning may surely be applied with all humility and
reverence, to the works and the intentions of the great Being who has
implanted in our minds the principles which lead to that just and sound
view of the deeds and motives of men.
But let the argument be rested upon our course of reasoning respecting
divine contrivance. The existence of Evil is in no case more apparent
than the existence of Disorder seems to be in many things. To go no
further than the last example which has been given--the mathematician
could perceive the derangement in the planetary orbits, could
demonstrate that it must ensue from the mutual action of the heavenly
bodies on each other, could calculate its progress with the utmost
exactness, could tell with all nicety how much it would alter the forms
of the orbits in a given time, could foresee the time when the
whole system must be irretrievably destroyed by its operation as a
mathematical certainty. Nothing, that we call evil can be much more
certainly perceived than this derangement, of itself an evil, certainly
a great imperfection, if the system was observed by the mind of man
as we regard human works. Yet we now find, from well considering some
things which had escaped attention, that the system is absolutely free
from derangement; that all the disturbances counterbalance each other;
and that the orbits never can either be flattened or bulged out beyond
a definite or very inconsiderable quantity. Can any one doubt that
there is also a reason for even the small and limited, this regular and
temporary derangement? Why it exists at all, or in any the least degree,
we as yet know not. But who will presume to doubt that it has a reason
which would at once satisfy our minds were it known to us? Nay, who will
affirm that the discovery of it may not yet be in reserve for some later
and happier age? Then are we not entitled to apply the same reasoning to
what at present appears Evil in a system of which, after all we know of
it, so much still remains concealed from our view?