essential to the comfort and existence of animal nature. But it must have
required infinite wisdom and benevolence so to arrange and balance the
mighty elements of change and ruin which exist in the earth, that they
should hold one another in check, and make the world a quiet, unchanged,
and secure dwelling-place for so many thousands of years. Surely that
wisdom must have been guided by infinite benevolence. And it would seem
from geology that the same union of wisdom and benevolence have always
arranged the past conditions of the earth. For, during each of the periods
of organic existence, uniformity and security seem to have prevailed so
long as the purposes of the Deity required. In early times, indeed, when
animals were mostly confined to the waters, it was not necessary that the
dry land should be as exempt as at present from catastrophes; and probably
they were then more frequent; and it may be that, while there were
uniformity and security in one portion of the globe, or in one element,
there might have been disturbance and desolation in others. And it is
doubtful whether such general quiet has ever prevailed for so long a time
as during the present, or historic period. We see a reason for this in the
fact that never before were so many animals in existence, with a structure
so delicate and complicated.
Such are the evidences of divine benevolence, drawn from a field at first
view most unpromising. And yet, when we come to look beyond the surface,
where do we find more decisive or more numerous indications of God's
beneficence? They are not like many hasty generalizations, which
superficial examination has often brought from natural phenomena in proof
of this same truth, but which, although beautiful at first view, must be
abandoned upon careful research. But these, though repulsive at first,
gain solidity and beauty by examination. And they are the more interesting
because they come from an unexpected quarter. Men have been accustomed to
search among the drift piled up by water and ice, among dislocated and
rent strata of rocks, among mountains overturned and fields made desolate
by volcanic eruptions, for the mementoes of penal inflictions; but they
have not imagined that divine benevolence might be seen among these
disturbances and desolations; and that simply because they confined their
views to the immediate effect of geological agencies, and did not enlarge
their views to take in their connection with the great system of the
universe. But now that we find the stamp of benevolence even here, we
learn an instructive lesson. Every reflecting mind is aware that the
doctrine of divine benevolence lies at the foundation of all natural and
revealed religion, and that until this be established we labor in vain to
erect a superstructure. It is well known, also, that the existence of
natural and moral evil has been considered a strong objection to this
great truth. Now, geology furnishes us with many examples, in which
agencies, often fraught with terrific evils, are nevertheless eminently
beneficial when the whole extent of their operation is taken into account.
Why is it not a fair inference that, in all other cases where evils stand
out prominently, they are only incidental results of some wide system of
operations, of which our limited vision embraces only a part, but whose
tendencies as a whole are eminently salutary, and whose incidental evils
do, in fact, increase the salutary effects? If so, what reason have we to
believe that, when the light of eternity shall clarify our mental eye, and
enlarge our knowledge of the present system of the universe, we shall find
all "partial evil to be universal good," and that our narrow views alone
threw obscurity and difficulty over this subject in this life? O, if even
here so many rays of divine love find their way into our narrow
prison-house, what will be their brightness when they pour in upon us from
the unveiled glories of the heavenly world!
LECTURE VII.
DIVINE BENEVOLENCE AS EXHIBITED IN A FALLEN WORLD.
The geological proofs of the divine benevolence considered in the last
lecture present only a partial view of that glorious characteristic of
Jehovah. I am tempted, therefore, to exhibit it in its more general aspect
and broader relations. This will necessarily bring into view other
important religious truths respecting man's fallen condition and
character, and, as a consequence, the modified aspect of the divine
goodness in such a world.
To those destitute of a revelation this world has, indeed, ever seemed an
inextricable maze, an enigma too dark for human wisdom to solve. Nor have
those favored with the Bible agreed in their modes of clearing up the
mystery. Having endeavored to explain all by following out some leading
and favorite idea, their theories have varied as these predominant
conceptions differed. One, for instance, fixes his gaze so intently upon
the divine benevolence that he is blind to every manifestation of
Jehovah's sterner attributes. Another, deeply impressed with the story of
man's original apostasy, sees only vindictive justice, and penal
infliction, and disordered action, in all the movements of nature and the
trials and sufferings of man. A third, captivated by the discoveries of
modern geology, relative to the existence of suffering and death in the
world before man's creation, and learning, moreover, from physiology,
that death is a general law of all organized natures, vegetable as well as
animal, is led to doubt whether the disorders of the world have any
important connection with man's apostasy.
Now, it were easy to show that our views on these subjects have a most
important bearing upon our entire system of theology; and, therefore, they
deserve our most thorough and candid examination. To such an examination I
now invite your serious attention.
It is not my object to appeal to the Scriptures to prove the divine
benevolence. That were an easy task. So, were this an unfallen world,
every object and event would be redolent of God's goodness. But where sin
and death abound, that goodness must assume a different aspect, since its
unmixed manifestation would work mischief. Now, the point aimed at in this
lecture is to ascertain whether natural religion can point out decisive
evidence of divine benevolence. We can conceive it quite possible that in
a fallen world God might find it necessary so to mingle displays of
justice with those of goodness, that man might be in doubt which
predominated.
There is another reason for considering this subject apart from scriptural
evidence. We need to establish the doctrine of divine benevolence as a
basis on which to rest the evidences of inspiration; or, rather, we want
to be able to assume God's benevolence, in arguing for the truth of the
Bible, and in judging of its contents. This doctrine, therefore, is one of
the most important, as it is certainly the most difficult, in natural
theology.
Obviously the first step in this investigation must be to ascertain what
is the real state of this world, as a manifestation of the benevolence and
justice of God. In other words, we need to ascertain what exhibitions of
these attributes are presented to us in nature, and in the economy of
Providence, and how much of the evil in the world is to be imputed to
man's perversion of the gifts of God. I shall proceed, therefore, to state
the main points on this subject which fair and candid reasoning seems to
me to sustain. When these points are before us, with a summary of the
evidence by which they are supported, we shall be prepared to deduce
important conclusions respecting God's character and dispensations, and
man's position and destiny.
_In the first place, then, I maintain that benevolence decidedly
predominates in the present system of the world._
Let this proposition be fully understood. It does not mean that there is
no mixture of evil in the operations of nature, but only that good
decidedly overbalances the evil. And by the operations of nature I mean
those processes resulting from natural laws, which are uninfluenced by the
perverseness of man. How much of evil may be imputed to his perversion of
the gifts of Providence will be considered in another place, as will also
those cases in which evil seems inseparable from the original arrangements
of the world. All that I am now concerned to prove is, that, in a vast
majority of instances, we see the marks of benevolent design and
benevolent operation in the arrangements of nature.
This position is established, in the first place, by the fact that the
design of every natural contrivance is to produce happiness.
To show that such is the case, by an appeal to facts, would be, in truth,
to write the history of every natural process, and show its design. But it
will be sufficient to consider only such cases as appear most decidedly to
militate against my position, and to show that even these are not
designed to cause evil or suffering.
How does it happen, then, you may inquire, that evil is the result of a
multitude of contrivances and processes in nature? It is an incidental
effect, I answer; that is, an effect happening aside from the main design
of the contrivance. Take a few illustrations.
No one can doubt that the law of gravity is essential to the preservation
and comfort of the world, and to the harmonious motions of the heavenly
bodies. Yet how often does it give rise to frightful accidents to men and
animals! But when they are crushed by falling bodies, or by falling
themselves, who imagines this to be the design of gravitation? How clear
that its real object is beneficial, and that the evil resulting from it is
unavoidable in a world constituted like ours! Why the world is not
constituted differently, is an inquiry which men may try to answer; but an
answer is not important to my present object.
Take an example from the organic world. Every one is aware that without a
nervous system in animals there would be no sensibility, nor sensation,
and, of course, no enjoyment; and without these, animals would be
unconscious of danger, and would not guard against it, nor withdraw from
it. We are sure, therefore, that these two objects are the grand design of
the nervous system, and, of course, it is a benevolent design. But the
nervous system causes a great deal of suffering as well as pleasure.
Obviously, however, this is only an incidental effect, which could not be
prevented without a miracle; while the main design is to produce happiness
and guard against evil.
It may be asked, however, by what principle we can determine what is the
design of a contrivance, and what the incidental effect. Why select a
part of the effects, and call them the object aimed at by the contriver,
while we regard others as incidental, and merely permitted, not intended?
The principle on which we make this distinction is very clear. We judge of
the design of a contrivance by its predominant tendencies and effects. If
evil as often results as good, misery as often as happiness, we could not
decide whether the design was benevolent or malevolent, or an indifference
to both. But the benevolent tendency and effects of every natural
contrivance are so obvious, and so immensely outweigh all its evil
results, that we are compelled to admit the design of the Author of nature
to be benevolent. And, therefore, when we see evil occasionally result
from such contrivances, we are authorized to say that this is only an
incidental effect; not, indeed, wholly undesigned, for we cannot doubt
that God has a design in the permission of all evil. But for each
particular arrangement and movement in nature we can discover a
predominant and benevolent object.
Take another example from the human frame. In that frame we find a
multitude of organs, nearly all of which are obviously adapted to a
particular use. Now, the anatomist cannot lay his finger upon one of them,
and say, This was intended to produce derangement and suffering in the
system. Here is a muscle contrived to clog the operations of its
neighbors; here a blood-vessel adapted to corrupt the blood and produce
disease; here a gland whose object is to secrete a poisonous fluid, to
contaminate the whole system; here a nerve made to produce pain; here a
plexus of vessels suited to bring on disease. On the contrary, this
anatomist perceives at once that all the organs of the animal system, and
their collocation, are fitted in the best possible manner to produce
health. It is obvious at a glance that this is their design.
But if such be the fact, how happens it that so few persons pass through
life without disease? Is it all to be imputed to an abuse and perversion
of the organs and powers of life? Not so, in my opinion. But those organs
are all liable to disease; and when we see how delicate and complicated
they are, we ought not to wonder that even the unavoidable causes of
derangement should often bring it on. Yet, after all, health is the rule
and the object, and disease only the exception. But I shall say more on
this subject in another part of the argument.
Some one, however, who hears me, has doubtless ere this had his thoughts
recur to the organs of carnivorous animals, the poisonous fangs of
serpents, and the organs of the scorpion, the tarantula, and of insects,
for the generation and protrusion of deadly poison. Here we have organs
expressly provided for the destruction of other animals. That such is
their design, no physiologist can doubt; and hence they are intended to
produce suffering, and not happiness.
Is this an exactly correct statement of the case? True, suffering is the
result of such organs; but the arrangement is intended to accomplish still
higher purposes. The leading one is to procure food for sustenance, the
other is self-defence. Both of these are essential to the animal's
continued existence. That suffering should be incidentally connected with
instruments or organs so important, is no more difficult to explain than
is the existence of evil any where. The object even of these contrivances,
then, is beneficial. And if so, I know of no other example in nature so
seemingly adverse to the position I have laid down, that the main object
of every natural contrivance is benevolent in its origin and results. If
this be so, how clearly does it indicate the character of the contriver to
be benevolent!
My second argument is derived from the fact that the organic functions
often produce pleasure where suffering was just as consistent with their
most perfect action; or I might say that such are the arrangements of the
natural world, that pleasure often results to sentient beings from its
operations, when they might have been as perfectly performed with the
production of pain. A few illustrations will render the meaning of this
position obvious.
As we look abroad upon nature, one of the most striking traits we discover
is its unbounded variety. With the Psalmist we involuntarily exclaim, _O
Lord, how manifold are thy works!_ It is not merely variety as to form,
texture, attitude, and arrangement; but who can describe the countless
tints of coloring which are spread over the heavens and the earth? Now,
there is in the human soul an aptitude to be pleased with variety; nay,
there is a craving for it. Nor can there be a more terrible infliction
than unvarying monotony and sameness of appearance, arrangement, and
action. If, therefore, the Creator had been malevolent, or indifferent to
the happiness of man and other sentient beings, he might have gratified
this disposition most perfectly by giving to the human soul its present
love of variety, and then spreading over the face of nature a dead
uniformity of figure, position, arrangement, and coloring; forming every
thing upon the same model. And this might have been done without impairing
at all the perfect operation of all her laws that are essential. Every
thing might have been as systematic and harmonious as it now is; but
sentient beings would have been miserable; and this must have been
supremely gratifying to infinite malevolence. He might also have so
constructed the organs of hearing, sight, and smell, that every sound
might have been ungrateful and grating, every odor repulsive, and every
prospect disgusting. While hunger would have urged animals, as it now
does, to seek food, its reception might have been painful, or utterly void
of gustatory enjoyment. So in regard to social enjoyments; we might have
been irresistibly drawn towards our fellow-men, and yet their society
might have been hateful in the extreme.
Had such a state of things existed, how very clearly we should have
inferred the malevolence of the Author of nature! Or if such a state had
been witnessed about as often as its opposite, we might reasonably have
said that he was indifferent to the happiness of his creatures. Why, then,
may we not, with equal reason, infer his benevolence, when we find, in a
vast majority of cases,--nay, for aught I know, universally,--that
pleasure is superadded to animal enjoyment where it was wholly unnecessary
to the perfect operation of nature's laws?
The fact is, God has made all nature "beauty to our eye and music to our
ear," when it was wholly unnecessary for the perfect operation of her
laws; and the inference is irresistible, that he delights in the happiness
of his creatures. Nor can the fact that evil exists in the world destroy
the force of this argument, unless that evil is so general as to be
obviously the design of the Creator in devising and arranging the system
of the world. While we admit its existence, we say that it is only
incidental, and that pleasure is so often superadded unnecessarily, as to
prove happiness to be the design, and evil the exception.
The two arguments above presented are the evidence on which Dr. Paley
relies to prove the divine benevolence. They are, indeed, as it seems to
me, unanswerable. But if I mistake not, they do by no means exhaust the
storehouse of nature's proofs of this fundamental principle of natural
and revealed religion. I derive a third argument for the predominance of
benevolence in the works of nature from the variety of means often
provided for the performance of important functions; so that animals and
plants can adapt themselves to different circumstances, and prolong their
existence.
The examples which I have in mind to illustrate this argument are all
derived from the organic world. I refer, for instance, to the fact that
nearly all our muscles, and many other important organs, as the hands, the
feet, the eyes, and the lungs, are in pairs, so that if one meets with an
injury, or is destroyed, the other can, to some extent, perform the office
of both. The brain has two hemispheres, and one of them may be seriously
wounded without destroying the healthy action of the other.
But perhaps the most appropriate example is in the blood-vessels, whose
inosculations are so numerous that even though large arteries and veins be
tied, the blood will find its way through the smaller ones, which
ultimately will so enlarge as to keep up the circulation nearly as well as
before the injury. And, in fact, almost every one of the large
blood-vessels has been tied by the surgeon with little ultimate injury to
the patient.
In the process of deglutition, or swallowing the nourishment essential to
the existence of all the more perfect animals,--since the food and the air
for respiration pass for a time through a common opening, the pharynx,--it
is extremely important that the passage to the lungs should be most
vigilantly guarded; since strangulation would follow the introduction
there of any thing but air. Accordingly, the entrance of the glottis is so
sensitive, that the approach of the food causes it to close. But lest this
security should sometimes fail, we have an additional guard in the
epiglottis, which shuts down like a valve upon the orifice. Even with this
double precaution, strangulation sometimes follows the act of deglutition.
How much oftener would it occur, had not benevolence thus multiplied its
vigilant sentinels at the point of danger!
Another illustration of this argument lies in the fact, that many of the
organs of animals and plants possess the power, when an exigency requires
it, of greatly increasing their action. When, for instance, an unusual
quantity of osseous matter is requisite to repair a broken bone, the
glands, whose office it is to elaborate that matter, are capable of
secreting an extraordinary quantity, until the injury is repaired.
Of an analogous character is the sympathy existing between the different
organs, so that when one has an unusual amount of labor to perform, the
rest impart of their nervous energy to sustain their overtasked companion.
Thus, and thus only, could animals be carried through many of the severe
exigencies of their existence. Their organs help one another, just as if
they were conscious of one another's necessities, and were prompted by
benevolence to aid the weakest.
In like manner, some of the organs possess the power of vicarious
secretion; that is, of producing, in peculiar circumstances, secretions
that are usually made by other glands. How they can do this, and how they
can know when to do it, are among the mysteries of physiology.
Nevertheless, the object of this arrangement is most obvious, viz., the
continuance of health and life in spite of accidents, which would
otherwise prove fatal.
The same vicarious system is manifest in the well-known examples, where
the loss of one or more of the senses gives increased acuteness to the
rest. The sense of touch, for instance, in the blind man, has sometimes
proved no mean substitute for eyes; and, indeed, any of the senses by
cultivation, in peculiar exigencies, may be prodigiously strengthened.
Now, in all these cases, where the vicarious principle is brought into
operation, or sympathy concentrates the power of many organs in one, or
the loss of one organ or sense quickens the sensibility of the rest, do we
not recognize the prospective care and kindness of infinite benevolence?
Do you say that it merely shows infinite wisdom, which adjusts means to
ends with consummate skill, in order to be sure of success in its designs?
Why, then, I inquire, should these provisions for trying exigencies in the
animal system always tend to the happiness of the creature? Surely there
were other means at the command of infinite wisdom for securing the
existence of the animal, which would bring misery upon it instead of
happiness. The benevolent tendency of the design, therefore, proves the
benevolent feelings of the designer.
The extraordinary provisions that are made in some cases for the
multiplication of animals and plants, in order to prevent the extinction
of any races, and to give life and happiness to as many animals as can be
sustained, is another indication of benevolent care on the part of the
Creator. Not less than five modes of reproduction are known to exist,
viz., the viviparous, the ovo-viviparous, the oviparous, the gemmiparous,
and the fissiparous; and among the lowest families of animals several of
these modes exist in the same species, so that their extinction, or even
deficient multiplication, is scarcely possible.
The same benevolence is manifested in the power possessed by animals and
plants to adapt themselves to different circumstances. Often are they
thrown into conditions widely diverse as to food, temperature, and
exposure to chemical and mechanical agencies, with no possibility on their
part of avoiding them. This is eminently true of man; and were not animals
able to adapt themselves to these various states, they must perish. True,
there are limits to this adaptation; but they are wide enough to
accomplish the great purposes of existence, and to make us comfortable and
happy amid great changes in our condition. Nor is this power of adaptation
among animals limited to their physical nature. Their mental habits admit
of an oscillation equally wide, so that, ere long, we become happy in a
condition which at first was painful in the extreme. New habits take the
place of the old ones so gradually that we scarcely realize the change.
Now, if this power were not possessed in such a world as ours, could
organic natures not bend at all to circumstances, constant suffering and
premature dissolution would be the result. The power of adaptation,
therefore, looks like the benevolent provision of a kind Father, who
wishes to make his creatures as happy as he can in the circumstances in
which his wisdom has placed them. Certainly, malevolence, or indifference
to their happiness, would not have introduced this power of adaptation
into their natures; for it is certain that their continued existence might
have been secured in some other way, had no reference been had to their
happiness.
I base my fourth argument for the predominance of benevolence, in the
arrangements of nature, upon the aggregate results of the most destructive
and terrific agencies which she employs.