TESTIMONY TO MIRACLES.
It has been objected that the love of the marvellous has in every age
constituted so remarkable a phase of human nature as greatly to weaken, if
not entirely to invalidate the testimony to the performance of miracles.
It is alleged that the great historians of ancient times have recorded a
number of supernatural occurrences which are now summarily rejected as
incredible: and it is therefore argued that all narratives of miraculous
occurrences must share the same fate. This objection differs from that
which I have considered in the former chapter, in that it avoids the
necessity of imputing to the followers of Jesus and the authors of the
Gospels a degree of superstition and credulity greatly in excess of that
which characterizes the majority of mankind. It will be therefore
necessary to give this subject a careful consideration.
It is an unquestionable fact that the human mind has been in all ages
disposed to accept a number of narratives of supernatural occurrences upon
very insufficient testimony, and which the principles of sound reason lead
us to reject as untrue. Such beliefs have been peculiar to no one period
of the world’s history, but have been co‐extensive with the human race;
and they form one of the most remarkable facts in our nature. Many of the
ancient historians have reported such occurrences without apparent
suspicion; or if they entertained any doubts respecting their truth, they
did not venture even to whisper them into the popular ear. What is still
more; eminent men of the ancient world did not scruple to act in matters
of this kind a part which they knew to be deceptive, because they held the
opinion that such beliefs, though they might be laughed at by
philosophers, were necessary to act as restraints on the vulgar. Thus we
know, on the most indubitable authority, that a Roman Augur could gravely
act his part before the public at the very time that he was secretly
laughing in his sleeve at the ridiculousness of his art. It does not
therefore follow because the ancient historians have reported numbers of
occurrences of this nature with considerable gravity, that they accepted
them as facts. They were frequently influenced by the spirit of
accommodation, thinking it necessary for the welfare of society to keep up
the vulgar ideas on the subject. It would be inaccurate therefore to
attribute all the accounts of such things which we meet with in ancient
writers to simple credulity, or to infer from them that they did not
believe in an inviolable order of nature of some kind. With respect to the
arts of magic, however, one feels that even the greatest of the ancient
writers contemplated them with a kind of bated breath. This would appear
to have been the state of mind even of Tacitus, with one exception the
greatest historian of the ancient world, and one who was intimately
acquainted with the various systems of its philosophy. Conscious as he was
that vast numbers of the professors of magic were impostors, he seems
hardly able to realize the fact that the whole art was a delusion.
It has been affirmed that the progress of physical science has destroyed
in this nineteenth century all belief in the actual occurrence of the
supernatural, and that it now prevails only in some of the dark corners of
Christendom. The widespread belief in the phenomena of spiritualism, which
is certainly very far from being confined to religious men, and from which
some students of physical science have not been exempt, is a striking
proof of the contrary. All that can be affirmed with truth is that, in
these modern times, these forms of belief have taken a new direction.
Modern science has done much to establish and spread the belief that the
operations of all natural, _i.e._ material forces are uniform. Many of its
students have even brought themselves to the belief that the occurrence of
any event whose existence is due to the action of any other than the known
forces of nature, is impossible: though this is far from being the
invariable, and is certainly not the necessary result of its study. Still,
probably, the most ardent votary of these opinions would find it difficult
to keep himself wholly free from terrors arising from unseen causes, if
they were aroused by a suitable apparatus. The study of physical science
is far from being a universal safeguard against the invasions of
superstition. Its causes lie far more deeply rooted in our nature than the
principles of physical science can reach. Nor is it able to guard against
an extravagant use of the imagination.
Whether, in the present state of our philosophy, we have fully penetrated
to the depths of this principle thus working in the mind of man, may admit
of doubt; but its presence there, as an essential portion of our nature,
is an unquestionable fact. We are not without the means of getting a
general idea of its character. It is doubtless intimately connected with
those principles of our nature which constitute man a religious being, and
which form a fundamental part of his mental constitution. As such it must,
like all our other faculties, have a legitimate and an illegitimate
action. It points, as we shall see, to the existence of the supernatural.
A rational religion forms the object for its appropriate exercise.
Whenever man has been destitute of this, and his reason has been weak,
this principle, devoid of its proper object, has always manifested itself
in various forms of extravagance. So powerful is it in the human mind that
even avowed atheism has not been proof against its power. Julius Cæsar was
an atheist, and possessed one of the most powerful minds that ever
inhabited the human frame. Yet, on the great day of his triumph, he
ascended the steps of the Capitol for the purpose of averting an avenging
Nemesis. Napoleon the First was no atheist, though few persons who have
ever lived have been more free from the restraints of religion or
superstition. Although he possessed a mighty intellect and was no stranger
to the truths of modern science, yet even he believed in his star. Many
other instances of men of powerful intellect who disbelieved in religion,
yet who entertained singular superstitions, might be easily adduced. I
refer to them for the purpose of proving that the principle out of which
such things originate must be one which is deep‐seated in the nature of
man, and therefore an essential portion of it. If it is founded on a
fundamental principle of our mental constitution, it follows that it must
have a legitimate subject‐matter on which to exercise its powers, and that
the abnormal forms of it which are so frequently manifested are the
results of some disorder in its action. What then is its nature?
There are certain principles deeply‐seated within us, which form as
definite a portion of ourselves as even our rational faculties, and which
directly prompt to the belief in the supernatural, and therefore point to
its existence. Among these, the faculties of imagination, wonder,
reverence and awe, hold a conspicuous place. It is impossible to deny that
they form portions of the actual constitution of our minds, however we may
account for their origin. Is it then our duty to eradicate them because
they prompt us to the belief in something which transcends the visible
order of nature? This will hardly be affirmed by the most thorough‐going
sceptic; for if it be our duty to do so, the human mind must be a mass of
disorder in the midst of a universe of order. If we were to make the
attempt (for indeed it has been attempted) the result would be to upset
the balance of our mental constitution, and it would terminate in failure.
Human nature, taken as it is, constitutes a whole. These faculties hold in
it a place subordinate to reason and to conscience. When our rational, our
imaginative, and our moral powers act harmoniously together, they
constitute man a religious being.
But, for the purposes of the present argument, I have simply to draw
attention to the fact that imagination, wonder, reverence and awe form an
essential portion of our being. It would be in the highest degree
undesirable to get rid of them, even if we were able. How mighty is the
influence of the first of these principles! It lies at the foundation of
everything that is great and noble in man. To it are due the magnificent
creations of poetry; in fact everything which adorns life, and much of
that which raises us above the mechanical forces of nature. Destitute of
it, our reason could not act; nay, it could not even exist; and we should
be reduced to the mere mechanical action of the understanding, the wheels
of which would be in danger of rusting. Nor has the faculty of wonder a
less definite place in our being. It is closely connected with our
imagination, which supplies it with objects fitted to excite it, and ought
to be exercised under the guidance of reason. Its object is the great and
the vast, shall I not say, the infinite? Regulated by reason and united
with awe, it produces reverence. Reverence points to the existence of some
object which is really worthy of veneration. Veneration can only be
legitimately exercised on that which is truly venerable. As such it
directly points to a personal God, and refuses to rest in anything short
of Him as able fully to gratify its aspirations. Viewing them as a whole,
the legitimate object of these faculties, and the subject from which they
can receive their fullest gratification, is that Great Being who
everywhere manifests Himself in this glorious universe. But when man has
ceased to contemplate in nature a rational power guiding and controlling
it, the principle of wonder has frequently prompted him to gratify its
aspirations by peopling it with a multitude of phantastic creations. When
under the influence of awe, he has contemplated it in its terrible
aspects, unguided by a being who possesses a moral character, these
feelings have prompted the imagination to fill it with beings who excite
the feeling of superstitious dread.
Although the vastness of the material universe and the energy of its
forces can excite the feeling of wonder, yet that of reverence refuses to
find in the mere extension of space, or the might of material forces, any
object adequate to its demands. The vastness of the material universe may
fill the mind with wonder and admiration; but even wonder refuses to rest
satisfied with a vastness of which the limits are known. It demands
something which is conceivable, which yet runs up into the regions of the
inconceivable. But even here the feeling of reverence can find nothing on
which to energize. It directly points to a moral being in whom it can find
a centre, and it will find its gratification in nothing short of one. To
talk, as many Pantheists do, of feeling reverence for an impersonal
Universe, is a misuse of language. What! to reverence a Being, if the
impersonal Universe can be called a Being, which is everlastingly casting
up the bubbles of existence in the form of moral agents, and is
everlastingly devouring them, devoid alike of consciousness, volition, and
a moral nature!
It follows, therefore, if these principles form a constituent portion of
our nature, that like all our other faculties, they must admit of a right
and a perverted use. It is therefore absurd to lay down as a general
principle, because they admit of an illegitimate use, that the whole class
of phenomena connected with them are worthy of nothing but summary
rejection, without exercising our reason on the evidence on which they
stand. All that their existence can prove in reference to this subject is
something which is very like a truism; that mankind, being liable to all
kinds of mistakes and errors, and having frequently fallen into them, no
class of phenomena ought to be accepted as facts, until evidence of their
occurrence has been adduced which is capable of satisfying our reason. But
this is a very harmless proposition.
There can be no doubt that to a perverted use of these faculties is due
the belief in a kind of current supernaturalism, which in various forms
runs through the entire history of man. This has owed its origin to the
efforts of the imagination to supply objects for its gratification when
the reason is feeble and the moral faculties have become perverted. Hence
the readiness of large masses of mankind to accept narratives of marvels
without regard to the evidence on which they rest. They are accepted
simply as gratifying the principle of wonder. This is the cause of what I
have designated by the term “Current Supernaturalism.”
But because all our faculties admit of abuse, and the higher they are, the
greater, this forms no reason for rejecting their legitimate use, or the
entire subject‐matter on which they operate. As I have observed, the
principle is found energizing wherever man exists. Although in one age it
may be more active than in another, it is alike the inheritance of the
civilized man and the savage. It has displayed itself in the creations of
the poet and the writer of fiction; in the various forms of religious
thought; in the production of ghost‐stories and pictures of the under‐
world; in the creation of the various forms of demonology, witchcraft and
magic; in the milder form of fairy‐tales; in charms and incantations, and
in efforts to pry into the future. Even in philosophy and science we may
trace its influence, not only in aiding and suggesting their great
discoveries, but in propounding multitudes of startling theories, erected
on the smallest basis of fact. These not only gratify this feeling, but
promise an apparently royal road to knowledge, which avoids the long and
tedious one of only propounding theories after a careful investigation of
facts. But in the regions of intellectual pursuit, its abnormal
manifestations are pre‐eminently in the science of historical criticism,
in those numerous departments of historical inquiry where the facts are
few and vague. Here nothing is easier than to supply the absence of facts
by theory, and to erect a magnificent edifice on a foundation of sand. The
ancient soothsayer gratified vulgar curiosity by guessing at the events of
the future. There is a species of modern soothsaying which expends its
energies in guessing at the events of the past. Such guessing presents an
unspeakable fascination to a large number of minds, by its happy mixture
of fiction and fact, and is the true analogue to many of the forms of
ancient thought. It has been necessary to draw attention to these things
for the purpose of proving the widespread influence of this principle on
human nature. Its action has manifested itself in different forms in
different ages; but the cause is the same in all, the existence in man of
a principle which points to the existence of God, and which can only
receive its adequate gratification in Him.
The action of similar principles produces in man the love of the
extraordinary, the unusual and the novel. This is so powerful that unless
it is kept in subordination to reason, it produces a number of fictitious
beliefs. So strong is it, that it may be truly said of large numbers of
mankind that they spend all the time which they are not compelled to
devote to the serious realities of life, in little else than hearing and
speaking of some new thing. It is undoubtedly the cause of a large number
of fictitious beliefs, and produces, in minds where the rational powers
are weak, a ready acceptance of the unusual, the strange, and the
wonderful. The same principle, acting in conjunction with others, when
uncontrolled by reason, has occasioned many of the exaggerations which are
to be found in history.
Still, as one of the fundamental principles of our minds, it cannot but
have a legitimate sphere of action. United with curiosity, it is the chief
source of all mental activity. It is that which produces the earnest
desire to penetrate into the regions of the unknown. As such, it is
essential to the activity of our rational faculties, and has been the
exciting cause which has rendered all our great discoveries possible.
It follows, therefore, that if these principles form part of our mental
constitution, the objection that they destroy the value of miracles as a
testimony to a revelation is absurd. We might as well argue that because
the love of the marvellous has generated a belief in a number of fictions
as facts in ordinary history, it invalidates its testimony to events which
have really happened, or renders all unusual occurrences incredible. I
will illustrate this by an example. Herodotus tells us in his history that
there were certain tribes who dwelt in wooden habitations erected over
lakes, and he gives us several particulars as to their manner of life.
This fact, until a comparatively recent period, might have been pronounced
incredible, and have been supposed to have originated in the simple love
of the marvellous, either in the author or in his informants. I own that
when I first read the historian, this was the opinion which I formed
respecting it. But we now know that he reported an actual fact. On the
other hand it is certain that a great portion of the details of the
Scythian expedition of Darius must have originated in the undue activity
of the mental faculties to which I have referred, _i.e._ that they are
inventions. But if the principle of summarily rejecting narratives of
events which lie beyond our experience is valid, because the abnormal
activity of certain faculties has urged men to invent, and believe in a
multitude of fictions, the account of the lake‐dwellings given by the
historian ought to have been rejected as equally unworthy of credit, with
some of the occurrences of the Scythian expedition. It is impossible to
deal with the events of history on any general _à priori_ principles; they
must stand or fall on their own intrinsic evidence.
It follows, therefore, that if these principles admit of an abnormal
action, we are still by no means justified in a summary rejection of all
unusual occurrences. It only forms an adequate reason for closely
scrutinizing the evidence on which the credibility of history rests. The
faculty of imagination, instigated by that of wonder, has produced
widespread beliefs in a mass of supernatural events which are utterly
incredible. But as that faculty must have a legitimate action somewhere,
it is clear that its abuse can be no valid reason for the rejection of all
supernatural occurrences, unless for other reasons they are proved to be
incredible. The whole must be a question of evidence and of reason. If it
formed a valid ground for the rejection of miracles, it is clear that the
principle on which it is founded cannot be confined to any such narrow
limits, but must have a wide and general application, and extend to all
that is wonderful and unusual.
It is an unquestionable fact that a large proportion of mankind in every
age have eagerly sought the means of affording gratification to the
feeling of wonder, and that this has been the means of introducing into
history a considerable number of fictions of various kinds. But does this
invalidate its testimony? Does it justify us in rejecting whole classes of
phenomena as unworthy of consideration? We have already seen that whatever
principle is applied to miracles must be equally applied to all
extraordinary events, because as phenomena there is no difference between
them. We admit that many fictions have got into history. These it is the
duty of the critical historian to detect and displace. Will anyone affirm
that their introduction invalidates the events in the history of the past,
which rest on an adequate attestation? What that is, I shall consider
hereafter. Whatever effect this may have exerted on the minor details of
history, will anyone affirm that its great outlines do not rest on a
substantial basis of truth? It is impossible to lay down on these subjects
a wide and comprehensive canon which will save us the trouble of careful
and accurate investigation. All reports of extraordinary events, marvels,
and miracles, must stand or fall with the adequacy of the evidence which
can be adduced for their occurrence, and cannot be decided by any
artificial rule. If the evidence is good, they must be accepted,
notwithstanding the fact that extensive classes of marvels have been
accepted by mankind on testimony wholly insufficient to establish their
truth. If the evidence fails, they must be regarded as the result of the
abnormal exercise of faculties which yet have a legitimate place in our
mental constitution.
Nothing is more common than the assertion that at certain periods of
history, mankind have been ignorant that there is an order in nature; and
that this ignorance has given these faculties such unbounded play as to
render all reports of supernatural occurrences unworthy of credit,
notwithstanding any amount of evidence which may be alleged in their
favour. It is urged that, if men are ignorant that there is an order in
nature, to such a state of mind nothing would be really supernatural; but
every event, whether supernatural or otherwise, would be viewed as a
matter of ordinary occurrence. To this state of mind a miracle would
convey no meaning, and therefore it would be valueless as evidence of a
divine revelation. In other words, it has been affirmed that there have
been certain conditions of mankind in which the love of the marvellous has
been so powerful, and the action of reason so weak, as to destroy all
sense of the distinction between a natural and a supernatural occurrence.
I reply that the Christian revelation was not addressed to such a
condition of the human mind. On the contrary, it was made after a long
course of preparation for its introduction. After the whole course of
previous history, under the controlling providence of God, had prepared
the way for His Advent, Jesus Christ appeared. The Gospel was not preached
to men in the lowest state of barbarism, but to civilized man. What may
have been the ideas of degraded savages, at some early period of the
history of our race, it will be needless to inquire. With mankind in such
a condition we have nothing to do in the present controversy, but with the
state of thought in the Roman Empire during the first century of our era.
This was no period of mental darkness or of boundless credulity. In the
early ages, when every phenomenon of nature was viewed as due to the
action of some capricious god, the belief in an order of nature must have
been in a high degree vague and uncertain. But such a state of things,
whatever it might once have been, had long since passed away. The period
of history now under consideration was one of widespread intelligence,
varying greatly in different parts of the empire, but still one of
intelligence and civilization.
It is impossible for men to attain a degree of progress necessary for the
existence of civilization, and still to remain ignorant that a large class
of natural occurrences follow an order which does not admit of deviation.
Civilization would be impossible unless this were generally recognized. It
is in fact founded on its recognition. At the same time, there is a class
of phenomena which are not recognized by the ordinary mind as following a
definite order. It is within this alone that the beliefs of current
supernaturalism exert their activity. But the supernatural occurrences
narrated in the New Testament do not belong to this ambiguous order of
events, and are therefore unaffected by them.
There is a large class of events which civilized man cannot help
recognizing as belonging to a definite order and sequence, and where the
belief in the marvellous exerts little or no influence. The violation of
this order he views as impossible. Thus he cannot fail to recognize the
fact that men cannot walk on the water without support; that thousands of
persons cannot be fed by a few loaves and fishes; that diseases never
leave us instantaneously by no other agency than that of a touch or a
word; and that men who have been actually dead have never returned to
life. No amount of the love of the marvellous has ever induced men to
consider such occurrences possible. Whatever may have been the current
supernaturalism of the ancient world, it did not embody beliefs of this
description. This is proved by the entire course of ancient history. Its
supernaturalism is of a wholly different order. The love of the
marvellous, therefore, has never so confounded the distinction between the
natural and the supernatural among civilized men, as to have deprived a
miracle of its significance.
Such an assertion respecting any part of the Roman Empire, during the
century which preceded and that which followed the Advent, would be
contrary to fact. On the contrary, certain classes of events which were
reported to have happened, were invariably believed to have been really
supernatural. They were so far from being considered as devoid of meaning,
that persons supposed to be skilled in the art of interpreting them were
habitually consulted as to what they were intended to denote. The only
exceptions to this were those occurrences which were supposed to have been
brought about by the art of magic. These seem to have been viewed as in
some measure due to the existence of occult powers in nature, the results
of which the professors of the art had succeeded in mastering. It may be
safely affirmed that at no portion of this period was the love of the
marvellous so prevalent in any portion of the Roman Empire as to have
deprived a real miracle of its signification.
It follows therefore that it is impossible to lay down any abstract rule
which will save us the trouble of investigating the evidence of miracles,
because mankind has in all ages been greatly influenced by the love of the
marvellous, and under its influence has invented a number of occurrences
which reason pronounces incredible. The action of this principle is far
from being confined to subjects connected with religion, but extends over
the whole range of literature. While it is quite true that, under the
influence of various principles of this description, numbers of fictions
have been reported by ancient historians, this forms a valid reason only
for rejecting those which rest on no adequate attestation. The adoption of
the other principle would render all knowledge of the past impossible. All
the faculties of our minds admit of a legitimate and an illegitimate use.
To reject the results of the right use of our faculties, because they are
capable of a wrong one, is absurd.
But an opposite view may be taken of the entire question, and one which is
dictated by the principles of reason.
Several principles in man directly point to the existence of the
supernatural. Among these veneration and conscience occupy a conspicuous
place. These acting in conjunction with reason constitute man a religious
being. Man alone of all living beings is capable of religion. The
principle of reverence finds its only adequate gratification in the
contemplation of moral perfection. Moral perfection is inconceivable where
personality and volition are not. This principle therefore forms the
counterpart in man which is directly correlated to the being and the
perfections of a personal God. It follows that instead of these principles
invalidating the existence of the supernatural, they establish it. The
conception of immensity is the adequate subject‐matter on which our
faculty of wonder works. The highest conception of greatness is realized
in God. In Him therefore this faculty receives its most perfect
realization. Reverence points to greatness united with supreme moral
goodness. The imperfection of man will not satisfy it. It therefore impels
man to bow down before the throne of One who transcends the imperfections
of the created universe. If there be a personal God, supremely good, who
is the Creator and moral Governor of the universe, nothing is more in
conformity with our highest reason than that He should make a further
manifestation of Himself to man, in addition to that which He has made in
the material universe.