of God confirmed when we look out into the moral world? No one will say
that all is clear and unambiguous in that world--that it is nowhere
shrouded in unpenetrated, if not impenetrable, darkness--that it
contains no perplexing anomalies. There is an enormous mass of sin on
earth, and the mere existence of sin is a mystery under the government
of an omnipotent God who hates sin. There is a vast amount of
apparently prosperous sin, and a vast amount of temporarily suffering
virtue, and these are often severe trials of faith in the justice
and holiness of God. Pessimism may exaggerate the emptiness and the
sadness of life, but it has done service by exposing and discrediting
the optimism which ignores the dark features and tragic elements of
existence. Can an unprejudiced mind, however, even with all the sins
and sufferings of the world before its view, and although consciously
unable to resolve the difficulties which they suggest, refuse to
acknowledge that the general testimony rendered by the moral world to
the being and righteousness of its Author is ample and unmistakable?
I think not. The conclusion which we have drawn from the character
of the sentiments inevitably excited by the contemplation of virtue
and vice, is also that which follows from the natural tendencies
and issues of good and evil affections and actions. Virtue does not
always meet with its due reward, nor vice with its due punishment,
in any obvious outward shape; if they did, earth would cease to be a
scene of moral discipline; but internal moral laws of an essentially
retributive nature are in incessant operation, and show not obscurely
or doubtfully what is the judgment of God both on character and
conduct. Virtue is self-rewarding and vice is self-punishing. Virtue
tends of its very nature to honour and life, vice to dishonour and
death. There are outward bonds between virtue and happiness, vice and
misery, which may be severed; but there are also inward bonds which
cannot be broken--relations of cause and effect as inflexible as any in
the physical world. Virtue may be followed by no external advantages,
or may even involve the possessor of it in suffering; but infallibly
it ennobles and enriches, elevates and purifies the soul itself, and
thus gradually and increasingly imparts "a peace above all earthly
dignities." Vice may outwardly prosper and meet only with honour from
men, but it cannot be said to be passing wholly unpunished so long
as it weakens, poisons, and corrupts the spiritual constitution. Now
this it always does, and never more actively than when the individual
who is guilty has silenced the voice of his conscience, and when a
depraved society encourages him in his wickedness. The law--"he that
soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption"--is never even
for an instant suspended, although the growth and ripening of the seed
into its fruit may be unobserved. In the very commission of sin the
soul violates the conditions of its own welfare, destroys its own best
feelings, impoverishes and ruins itself.
"He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun--
Himself is his own dungeon."[40]
[40] See Appendix XXIX.
When we look from individuals to societies, we perceive the same
truth confirmed on a more comprehensive and conspicuous scale. It
is true that in the social world there are bad triumphs and impious
successes--that the victory of good over evil is often reached
only after a long series of defeats. But it is equally true that
the welfare of society is dependent on a practical recognition of
moral principles--that the laws of morality are conditions of the
progress, and even of the existence, of society. A cynical moralist
of the eighteenth century maintained that private vices were public
benefits; but, of course, his sophisms were easily exposed: he failed
to convince any one of the correctness of his paradox. No inductive
truth can be easier to establish, or better established, than that
righteousness exalteth a nation, while sin lowers and destroys it.
The vicious affections which torment and debase isolated men, equally
disturb and degrade a tribe or nation. The virtuous affections which
diffuse peace and happiness in a single heart, equally spread harmony
and prosperity through the largest community. Thus the general
conditions of social life testify that God loves virtue and hates vice.
Then, if we examine history as a whole, we cannot but recognise that
it has been in the main a process of moral progress, of moral growth.
The children of the present day may be born with no better dispositions
than those of five thousand years ago, and men may be now as guilty, as
wilful sinners against what they know to be right, as ever they were;
in that sense there may be no moral progress; but of this there can
be, I think, no reasonable doubt in the mind of any impartial student
of history, that the thoughts of men have been surely, if slowly,
widened as to liberty, chastity, justice, benevolence, piety--and
that their feelings have been correspondingly modified, their manners
refined, and their laws and institutions improved. There may be no such
thing as the inheritance or transmission of virtue, and every step
of moral advance may have to be gained by the free exertion of each
individual, people, and generation in succession; but, as a matter
of fact, our race does on the whole advance, and not recede, in the
path towards good. Just as reason, although it may be feebler than the
passions in a short struggle, can always conquer them if it get time
to collect its energies--so virtue gains and vice loses advantages
with the lapse of years; for, while the prejudices which opposed the
former subside and its excellences become ever increasingly apparent,
as history flows onward, those who leagued themselves in support of
the latter quarrel among themselves, its fascinations decay, and its
deformities become more manifest and repulsive. Age is linked to age,
and in the struggle of good and evil which pervades all the ages,
victory is seen slowly but steadily declaring itself for the good.
The vices die--the virtues never die. Some great evils which once
afflicted our race have passed away. What great good has ever been
lost? Justice carries it over injustice in the end. Now, whatever be
the means by which moral progress is brought about, the testimony which
it involves as to the moral character of God is none the less certain.
The successful application of Darwinian principles, for example, to
the explanation of human progress, would be no disproof of design in
social evolution. If a natural selection, based on force, were shown
to have prepared the way for a natural selection based on craft, which
in its turn gave place to justice, and that again to love, God must
none the less be credited with having contemplated the final result,
and that result must none the less be held to be an indication of His
character. When what is called the struggle for existence has been
proved to lead, not to the deterioration but to the improvement of
life--to the greatest abundance of the highest kinds of life possible
in the circumstances--it will have been vindicated and shown to have
been a means to secure such ends as a wise and benevolent Being would
entertain. When it has been proved to have constrained men gradually
to recognise that the virtues are the conditions of the most desirable
existence, and that the vices are so many obstacles to the attainment
of such an existence, it will have been still further vindicated
by having been thus shown to be the mode in which righteousness is
realised in the world. It matters little, so far as the religious
inference is concerned, after what natural process and by what natural
laws moral progress has been brought about; for whatever the process
and laws may be discovered to be, they will be those which God has
chosen, and will be fitted to show forth the glory of His wisdom, love,
and justice.[41]
[41] See Appendix XXX.
LECTURE VIII.
CONSIDERATION OF OBJECTIONS TO THE DIVINE WISDOM, BENEVOLENCE, AND
JUSTICE.
I.
Conscience testifies that there is a God who is good and just; and
society and history, on the whole, confirm its testimony. But there are
a multitude of moral evils in the world, and these may seem to warrant
an opposite inference, or at least so to counterbalance what has been
adduced as evidence for the goodness and justice of God as to leave us
logically unable to draw any inference regarding His moral character.
We must consider, therefore, whether these evils really warrant an
anti-theistic conclusion; and as they are analogous to, and closely
connected with, those facts which have been argued to be defects in the
physical constitution of the universe inconsistent with wisdom, or at
least with perfect wisdom, in the Creator, it seems desirable to ask
ourselves distinctly this general question, Are there such defects in
the constitution and course of nature that it is impossible for us to
believe that it is the work of a wise and holy God?
Epicurus and Lucretius imagined that the world was formed by a happy
combination of atoms, acting of themselves blindly, and necessarily
after innumerable futile conjunctions had taken place. Lange, the
most recent historian of materialism, has revived the hypothesis, and
represented the world as an instance of success which had been preceded
by milliards of entire or partial failures. This is the theory of
natural selection applied to account for the origin of worlds; and no
one, I believe, who combines the hypotheses of natural selection and
atheism can consistently entertain any other conception of the origin
of worlds. But where are the milliards of mishaps which are said to
have occurred? Where are the monstrous worlds which preceded those
which constitute the cosmos? We must, of course, have good evidence for
their existence before we can be entitled to hold Nature responsible
for them; we must not charge upon her the mere dreams of her accusers.
Not a trace, however, of such worlds as, according to the hypothesis,
were profusely scattered through space, has been pointed out. It would
be a waste of time for us to argue with men who invent worlds in order
to find fault with them. We turn, therefore, to those who censure not
imaginary worlds but the actual world.
Comte, following Laplace, has argued that there is no evidence of
intelligence or design in the solar system, because its elements and
members are not disposed in the most advantageous manner. The moon, in
particular, we are assured, should have been so placed that it would
revolve round the earth in the same time that the earth revolved round
the sun. In that case she would appear every night, and always at the
full. Storms, volcanoes, earthquakes, and deserts have been often
argued to be defects which mar both the beauty and utility of creation.
Changes in the polar regions, in the physical character of Africa, in
the position of the Asiatic continent, and in the Pacific Ocean, have
been suggested as improvements on the constitution of the world. The
actual climates of various countries have been maintained to be not the
most favourable to life which are possible under the existing laws of
nature.[42]
[42] See Appendix XXXI.
A little reflection will enable us to assign its just value to such
criticism of creation. Remark, then, in the first place, that there may
be abundant evidence of intelligence where there is not evidence of
perfect intelligence. Although very considerable defects were clearly
shown to exist in the constitution and arrangements of the physical
world, there might yet be ample and unmistakable proof of the vast
wisdom of its Author. Were it even true that science could show that
the mechanism of the heavens, and the distribution of land and sea,
heat and cold, on earth, were not in every respect the best, that
would not prove that there was no intelligence, no design whatever,
involved therein. The question, Did the earth and the solar system
originate with intelligence? is distinct from the question, Was the
intelligence in which they originated perfect? It is conceivable that
the one question might have to be answered in the affirmative and the
other in the negative. It is obvious that the former question ought to
be considered apart from and before the latter. The theist proposes,
of course, to prove in the end that there is a perfect intelligence,
but he is content to establish at first that there is an intelligence.
Aware that whoever admits intelligence to be the first cause of the
universe may be forced also to admit that the creative intelligence is
perfect, he is under no temptation himself to confound two entirely
distinct questions, and he is obviously entitled to protest against so
illogical a procedure in others.
Remark, in the second place, that we are plainly very incompetent
critics of a system so vast as the universe. We are only able to
survey a small portion of it, and the little that we perceive we
imperfectly comprehend. We see but an exceedingly short way before
us into the future, and can form only the vaguest and most general
conception of the final goal to which creation, as a whole, is tending.
This need not, and ought not, to prevent us from recognising the
evident indications of intelligence which fall within our range of
apprehension; but it may well cause us to hesitate before pronouncing
that this or that peculiarity, which appears to us a defect, is
an absolute error or evil. There is no one who would not feel it
very unwise to pronounce an apparent defect, even in an elaborate
human mechanism with which he was only imperfectly acquainted, an
unmistakable blunder, and surely far more caution is required in a
critic of the constitution of the universe; for, as Bishop Butler
truly observes, "The most slight and superficial view of any human
contrivance comes abundantly nearer to a thorough knowledge of it than
that part which we know of the government of the world does to the
general scheme and system of it." All Nature is one great whole, and
each thing in it has, as I have previously had to insist, a multitude
of uses and relations, with reference to all of which it must be
viewed, in order that a complete and definitive judgment regarding it
may be formed. Has this fact been adequately realised by those who
have criticised, in the manner which has been indicated, the wisdom
displayed in the system of Nature? I think not. In regard to the moon,
it would seem that, even if that luminary were intended to serve no
other purpose than to give light on earth, it is not the Maker of it
who has blundered, but Comte and Laplace. The real consequences of
their pretended improvement have been shown to be that the moon would
give sixteen times less light than it does, and be in constant danger
of extinction. In other words, what they have demonstrated is, that
their own mathematical and mechanical knowledge was so inferior to that
of the intelligence which placed the moon where it is, that they could
not appreciate the correctness of its procedure in the solution of a
comparatively simple astronomical problem. But even if the change which
they suggested would really have rendered the moon a better lamp to the
inhabitants of the earth, they were not entitled to infer that it was
an error to have placed it elsewhere, unless they were warranted to
assume that the moon was meant merely to be a lamp to the inhabitants
of the earth. But that they were clearly not entitled to assume. To
give light on earth is a use of the moon, but it is foolish to imagine
that this is its sole use. It serves other known ends, such as raising
the tides, and may serve many ends wholly unknown to us. So in regard
to volcanoes, earthquakes, &c. Any single generation of men and beasts
might well dispense, perhaps, with their existence, and yet they may
be most appropriate instrumentalities for securing order and welfare in
the economy of the universe as a whole. It is not by their relations
to the present and local only, but by their relations to all the past
and future of the entire system of things, that they are to be judged
of. If Greenland were submerged, and the Asiatic and North American
continents so altered that no large rivers should flow into the polar
ocean, the climate of Iceland and Canada might be greatly improved.
Would the world thereby, however, be made better as a whole, and
throughout all its future history? He must be either a very wise man or
a very foolish one who answers this question by a decided affirmation;
and yet he who cannot so answer it has obviously no right to hold that
the changes mentioned would really be improvements.
Could we survey the whole universe, and mark how all its several parts
were related to each other and to the whole, we might intelligently
determine whether or not an apparent defect in it was real; but we
cannot do this with our present powers. We can readily imagine that
any one thing in the world, looked at by itself or in relation to
only a few other objects, might be much better than it is, but we
cannot show that the general system of things would not be deranged
and deteriorated thereby. Considered merely in reference to man, the
relative imperfections of the world may be real advantages. A world so
perfect that man could not improve it, would probably be, paradoxical
as the statement may sound, one of the most imperfect worlds men could
be placed in. An imperfect world, or in other words, a world which can
be improved, can alone be a fitting habitation for progressive beings.
Scripture does not represent nature even before the Fall as perfect
and incapable of improvement, but only as "very good;" and still less
does it require us to believe that the actual course of nature is
perfect. The true relation of man to nature can only be realised when
the latter is perceived to be imperfect,--a thing to be ruled, not to
be obeyed--improved, not imitated--and yet a thing which is essentially
good relatively to the wants and powers of its inhabitants. No created
system, it must further be remembered, can be _perfect_ in the sense of
being _the best possible_. None can be so good but that a better may
be imagined. What is created must be finite in its perfections, and
whatever is finite can be imagined to be increased and improved. The
Creator Himself--the absolutely perfect God--the Highest Good--is, as
Plato and Anselm so profoundly taught, the only best possible Being.
In Him alone the actual is coincident and identical with the possible,
the real with the ideal. Whoever receives this truth as it ought to
be received, cannot fail to see that all speculations as to a best
possible world, and all judgments of the actual world based on such
speculations, are vain and idle imaginations.[43]
[43] See Appendix XXXII.
I may add, that when a man argues, as Comte does, that we can know
nothing of final causes, nothing of the purposes which things are
meant to accomplish, and yet that they might have realised their final
causes, fulfilled their purposes, better than they do, he obviously
takes up a very untenable and self-contradictory position. If we can
have no notion of the purpose of a thing, we cannot judge whether it
is fulfilling its purpose or not, whether it is fulfilling it well or
ill. The denial of the possibility of knowing the ends of things is
inconsistent with the assertion that things might have been constituted
and arranged in a happier and more advantageous manner.
Organic nature has been still more severely criticised than the
inorganic world. There have been pointed out a few fully developed
organs, as, for example, the spleen, of which the uses are unknown, and
a multitude of organs so imperfectly developed as to be incapable of
performing any serviceable functions. Even the most elaborate organisms
have been maintained to have essential defects; thus the eye has been
argued by Helmholtz to be not a perfect optical instrument, and on the
strength of the proof one writer at least has declared that if a human
optician were to blunder as badly as the supposed author of eyes must
have done, he would be hissed out of his trade. Stress has been laid
on the fact that abortions and monsters are not rare. Many seemingly
intelligent contrivances, we are reminded, serve mainly to inflict pain
and destruction. And the inference has been drawn that the first cause
of organic existences was not Divine Wisdom but mere matter and blind
force.
The considerations which have already been brought forward should
enable us to answer all reasonings of this kind. An organ is not to be
pronounced useless because its uses have not yet been discovered. To
the extent that evolutionism is true, rudimentary and obsolete organs
are accounted for, and the wisdom displayed in them amply vindicated;
and if evolutionism be not true, they can still be explained on the
theory of types. They are stages in the realisation of the Divine
conception; indications of an order which comprehends and conditions
the law of use and contrivance for use; keys to the understanding
of the Divine plan. Theism cannot have much to fear from the fact
that all human eyes are limited in their range and finite in their
perfections, or even from the fact that a great many persons have very
bad eyesight. Whatever may be its imperfections, the eye, if viewed
with a comprehensive regard to its manifold uses and possibilities,
must be admitted by every unprejudiced judge to be incomparably
superior to every other optical instrument: indeed it is the only
real optical instrument; all so-called optical instruments are merely
aids and supplements to it. If the eye had been absolutely perfect,
its modification or evolution could only have been deterioration,
artificial optical instruments would not have been needed, and all
man's relations to creation must have been essentially different
from what they are. Who can rationally assure us that this was to be
desired? Abortions and monsters are at least exceptions. If mind were
not what is ultimate in the universe--if nature worked blindly--if
there were any truth in what Lange and Huxley have said of her
procedure, that it is "like shooting a million or more loaded guns in a
field to kill one hare,"--this could not be the case; the bullets which
miss would then be incalculably more numerous than those which hit,
and the evidence of her failures ought to be strewn far more thickly
around us than the remains of her successes; there would be, as it
were, no course of nature because of the multitude of deviations, no
rule in nature because of the multitude of exceptions. But what are
the facts? These: the lowest organisms are as perfectly adapted to
their circumstances as the highest, the earliest as the latest; there
is a vast amount of death and a vast amount of life in the world,
but, whatever some men may thoughtlessly assert, no man can show that
there is too much of either, any real waste, if the wants of creation
as a whole are to be provided for; abortions and monsters, which
are the only things in nature which can be plausibly characterised
as "failures," as "bullets which have fallen wide of the mark," are
comparatively few and far between; and the monsters, even, are not
really exceptions to law and order, are not strictly monsters. The
labours of teratologists have scientifically established the grand
general result that there are no monsters in nature in the sense which
Empedocles imagined; none except in the sense in which a man who gets
his leg broken is a monster. A monster is simply a being to whom an
accident not fatal has happened in the womb. Why should an accident not
occur there as well as elsewhere? Why should God not act by general
laws there as well as elsewhere? Who is entitled to say that any result
of His general laws is a failure; that any so-called accident was not
included in His plan; that a world in which a child could not be born
deformed nor a grown man have a leg broken, would be, were all things
taken into account, as good as the world in which we actually live?
Huxley, Lange, and those whom they represent, have failed to show
us any of nature's "bullets which have missed the mark," and have
not sufficiently, I think, realised how imperfect might be their own
perception of nature's target. The contrivances for the infliction
of pain and death displayed in the structure of animals of prey are
none the less evidences of intelligence because they are not also, at
least immediately or directly, evidences of beneficence. Intelligence
is one thing, benevolence is another, and what conclusively disproved
benevolence might conclusively prove intelligence.[44]
[44] See Appendix XXXIII.
II.
Let us pass on to the contemplation of greater difficulties; to
suffering, which seems to conflict with the benevolence of God--and to
sin, which seems irreconcilable with His righteousness.