THEISM; EVOLUTION OF THEOLOGY.
Hume seems to have had but two hearty dislikes: the one to the English
nation, and the other to all the professors of dogmatic theology. The
one aversion he vented only privately to his friends; but, if he is ever
bitter in his public utterances, it is against priests[28] in general
and theological enthusiasts and fanatics in particular; if he ever seems
insincere, it is when he wishes to insult theologians by a parade of
sarcastic respect. One need go no further than the peroration of the
_Essay on Miracles_ for a characteristic illustration.
"I am the better pleased with the method of reasoning here
delivered, as I think it may serve to confound those dangerous
friends and disguised enemies to the _Christian religion_ who have
undertaken to defend it by the principles of human reason. Our
most holy religion is founded on _Faith_, not on reason, and it is
a sure method of exposing it to put it to such a trial as it is by
no means fitted to endure. ... the Christian religion not only was
at first attended with miracles, but even at this day cannot be
believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere reason is
insufficient to convince us of its veracity: And whoever is moved
by _Faith_ to assent to it, is conscious of a continual miracle in
his own person, which subverts all the principles of his
understanding, and gives him a determination to believe what is
most contrary to custom and experience."--(IV. pp. 153, 154.)
It is obvious that, here and elsewhere, Hume, adopting a popular
confusion of ideas, uses religion as the equivalent of dogmatic
theology; and, therefore, he says, with perfect justice, that "religion
is nothing but a species of philosophy" (iv. p. 171). Here no doubt lies
the root of his antagonism. The quarrels of theologians and philosophers
have not been about religion, but about philosophy; and philosophers not
unfrequently seem to entertain the same feeling towards theologians that
sportsmen cherish towards poachers. "There cannot be two passions more
nearly resembling each other than hunting and philosophy," says Hume.
And philosophic hunters are given to think, that, while they pursue
truth for its own sake, out of pure love for the chase (perhaps mingled
with a little human weakness to be thought good shots), and by open and
legitimate methods; their theological competitors too often care merely
to supply the market of establishments; and disdain neither the aid of
the snares of superstition, nor the cover of the darkness of ignorance.
Unless some foundation was given for this impression by the theological
writers whose works had fallen in Hume's way, it is difficult to account
for the depth of feeling which so good natured a man manifests on the
subject.
Thus he writes in the _Natural History of Religion_, with quite unusual
acerbity:--
"The chief objection to it [the ancient heathen mythology] with
regard to this planet is, that it is not ascertained by any just
reason or authority. The ancient tradition insisted on by heathen
priests and theologers is but a weak foundation: and transmitted
also such a number of contradictory reports, supported all of them
by equal authority, that it became absolutely impossible to fix a
preference among them. A few volumes, therefore, must contain all
the polemical writings of pagan priests: And their whole theology
must consist more of traditional stories and superstitious
practices than of philosophical argument and controversy.
"But where theism forms the fundamental principle of any popular
religion, that tenet is so conformable to sound reason, that
philosophy is apt to incorporate itself with such a system of
theology. And if the other dogmas of that system be contained in a
sacred book, such as the Alcoran, or be determined by any visible
authority, like that of the Roman pontiff, speculative reasoners
naturally carry on their assent, and embrace a theory, which has
been instilled into them by their earliest education, and which
also possesses some degree of consistence and uniformity. But as
these appearances are sure, all of them, to prove deceitful,
philosophy will very soon find herself very unequally yoked with
her new associate; and instead of regulating each principle, as
they advance together, she is at every turn perverted to serve the
purposes of superstition. For besides the unavoidable incoherences,
which must be reconciled and adjusted, one may safely affirm, that
all popular theology, especially the scholastic, has a kind of
appetite for absurdity and contradiction. If that theology went not
beyond reason and common sense, her doctrines would appear too easy
and familiar. Amazement must of necessity be raised: Mystery
affected: Darkness and obscurity sought after: And a foundation of
merit afforded to the devout votaries, who desire an opportunity
of subduing their rebellious reason by the belief of the most
unintelligible sophisms.
"Ecclesiastical history sufficiently confirms these reflections.
When a controversy is started, some people always pretend with
certainty to foretell the issue. Whichever opinion, say they, is
most contrary to plain reason is sure to prevail; even when the
general interest of the system requires not that decision. Though
the reproach of heresy may, for some time, be bandied about among
the disputants, it always rests at last on the side of reason. Any
one, it is pretended, that has but learning enough of this kind to
know the definition of _Arian_, _Pelagian_, _Erastian_, _Socinian_,
_Sabellian_, _Eutychian_, _Nestorian_, _Monothelite_, &c., not to
mention _Protestant_, whose fate is yet uncertain, will be
convinced of the truth of this observation. It is thus a system
becomes absurd in the end, merely from its being reasonable and
philosophical in the beginning.
"To oppose the torrent of scholastic religion by such feeble maxims
as these, that _it is impossible for the same thing to be and not
to be_, that _the whole is greater than a part_, that _two and
three make five_, is pretending to stop the ocean with a bulrush.
Will you set up profane reason against sacred mystery? No
punishment is great enough for your impiety. And the same fires
which were kindled for heretics will serve also for the destruction
of philosophers."--(IV. pp. 481-3.)
Holding these opinions respecting the recognised systems of theology and
their professors, Hume, nevertheless, seems to have had a theology of
his own; that is to say, he seems to have thought (though, as will
appear, it is needful for an expositor of his opinions to speak very
guardedly on this point) that the problem of theism is susceptible of
scientific treatment, with something more than a negative result. His
opinions are to be gathered from the eleventh section of the _Inquiry_
(1748); from the _Dialogues concerning Natural Religion_, which were
written at least as early as 1751, though not published till after his
death; and from the _Natural History of Religion_, published in 1757.
In the first two pieces, the reader is left to judge for himself which
interlocutor in the dialogue represents the thoughts of the author; but,
for the views put forward in the last, Hume accepts the responsibility.
Unfortunately, this essay deals almost wholly with the historical
development of theological ideas; and, on the question of the
philosophical foundation of theology, does little more than express the
writer's contentment with the argument from design.
"The whole frame of nature bespeaks an Intelligent Author; and no
rational inquirer can, after serious reflection, suspend his belief
a moment with regard to the primary principles of genuine Theism
and Religion.--(IV. p. 435.)
"Were men led into the apprehension of invisible, intelligent
power, by a contemplation of the works of nature, they could never
possibly entertain any conception but of one single being, who
bestowed existence and order on this vast machine, and adjusted all
its parts according to one regular plan or connected system. For
though, to persons of a certain turn of mind, it may not appear
altogether absurd, that several independent beings, endowed with
superior wisdom, might conspire in the contrivance and execution of
one regular plan, yet is this a merely arbitrary supposition,
which, even if allowed possible, must be confessed neither to be
supported by probability nor necessity. All things in the universe
are evidently of a piece. Everything is adjusted to everything. One
design prevails throughout the whole. And this uniformity leads the
mind to acknowledge one author; because the conception of different
authors, without any distinction of attributes or operations,
serves only to give perplexity to the imagination, without
bestowing any satisfaction on the understanding."--(IV. p. 442.)
Thus Hume appears to have sincerely accepted the two fundamental
conclusions of the argument from design; firstly, that a Deity exists;
and, secondly, that He possesses attributes more or less allied to those
of human intelligence. But, at this embryonic stage of theology, Hume's
progress is arrested; and, after a survey of the development of dogma,
his "general corollary" is, that--
"The whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery. Doubt,
uncertainty, suspense of judgment, appear the only result of our
most accurate scrutiny concerning this subject. But such is the
frailty of human reason, and such the irresistible contagion of
opinion, that even this deliberate doubt could scarcely be upheld;
did we not enlarge our view, and opposing one species of
superstition to another, set them a quarrelling; while we
ourselves, during their fury and contention, happily make our
escape into the calm, though obscure, regions of philosophy."--(IV.
p. 513.)
Thus it may be fairly presumed that Hume expresses his own sentiments in
the words of the speech with which Philo concludes the _Dialogues_.
"If the whole of natural theology, as some people seem to maintain,
resolves itself into one simple, though somewhat ambiguous, at
least undefined proposition, _That the cause or causes of order in
the universe probably bear some remote analogy to human
intelligence_: If this proposition be not capable of extension,
variation, or more particular explication: If it affords no
inference that affects human life or can be the source of any
action or forbearance: And if the analogy, imperfect as it is, can
be carried no further than to the human intelligence, and cannot be
transferred, with any appearance of probability, to the other
qualities of the mind; if this really be the case, what can the
most inquisitive, contemplative, and religious man do more than
give a plain, philosophical assent to the proposition, as often as
it occurs, and believe that the arguments on which it is
established exceed the objections which lie against it? Some
astonishment indeed will naturally arise from the greatness of the
object; some melancholy from its obscurity; some contempt of human
reason, that it can give no solution more satisfactory with regard
to so extraordinary and magnificent a question. But believe me,
Cleanthes, the most natural sentiment which a well-disposed mind
will feel on this occasion, is a longing desire and expectation
that Heaven would be pleased to dissipate, at least alleviate, this
profound ignorance, by affording some more particular revelation to
mankind, and making discoveries of the nature, attributes, and
operations of the Divine object of our faith."[29]--(II. pp.
547-8.)
Such being the sum total of Hume's conclusions, it cannot be said that
his theological burden is a heavy one. But, if we turn from the _Natural
History of Religion_, to the _Treatise_, the _Inquiry_, and the
_Dialogues_, the story of what happened to the ass laden with salt, who
took to the water, irresistibly suggests itself. Hume's theism, such as
it is, dissolves away in the dialectic river, until nothing is left but
the verbal sack in which it was contained.
Of the two theistic propositions to which Hume is committed, the first
is the affirmation of the existence of a God, supported by the argument
from the nature of causation. In the _Dialogues_, Philo, while pushing
scepticism to its utmost limit, is nevertheless made to say that--
" ... where reasonable men treat these subjects, the question can
never be concerning the _Being_, but only the _Nature_, of the
Deity. The former truth, as you will observe, is unquestionable and
self-evident. Nothing exists without a cause, and the original
cause of this universe (whatever it be) we call God, and piously
ascribe to him every species of perfection."--(II. p. 439.)
The expositor of Hume, who wishes to do his work thoroughly, as far as
it goes, cannot but fall into perplexity[30] when he contrasts this
language with that of the sections of the third part of the _Treatise_,
entitled, _Why a Cause is Always Necessary_, and _Of the Idea of
Necessary Connexion_.
It is there shown, at large, that "every demonstration which has been
produced for the necessity of a cause is fallacious and sophistical" (I.
p. 111); it is affirmed, that "there is no absolute nor metaphysical
necessity that every beginning of existence should be attended with such
an object" [as a cause] (I. p. 227); and it is roundly asserted, that it
is "easy for us to conceive any object to be non-existent this moment
and existent the next, without conjoining to it the distinct idea of a
cause or productive principle" (I. p. 111). So far from the axiom, that
whatever begins to exist must have a cause of existence, being
"self-evident," as Philo calls it, Hume spends the greatest care in
showing that it is nothing but the product of custom, or experience.
And the doubt thus forced upon one, whether Philo ought to be taken as
even, so far, Hume's mouth-piece, is increased when we reflect that we
are dealing with an acute reasoner; and that there is no difficulty in
drawing the deduction from Hume's own definition of a cause, that the
very phrase, a "first cause," involves a contradiction in terms. He lays
down that,--
"'Tis an established axiom both in natural and moral philosophy,
that an object, which exists for any time in its full perfection
without producing another, is not its sole cause; but is assisted
by some other principle which pushes it from its state of
inactivity, and makes it exert that energy, of which it was
secretly possessed."--(I. p. 106.)
Now the "first cause" is assumed to have existed from all eternity, up
to the moment at which the universe came into existence. Hence it cannot
be the sole cause of the universe; in fact, it was no cause at all until
it was "assisted by some other principle"; consequently the so-called
"first cause," so far as it produces the universe, is in reality an
effect of that other principle. Moreover, though, in the person of
Philo, Hume assumes the axiom "that whatever begins to exist must have a
cause," which he denies in the _Treatise_, he must have seen, for a
child may see, that the assumption is of no real service.
Suppose Y to be the imagined first cause and Z to be its effect. Let the
letters of the alphabet, _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, _f_, _g_, in their
order, represent successive moments of time, and let _g_ represent the
particular moment at which the effect Z makes its appearance. It follows
that the cause Y could not have existed "in its full perfection" during
the time _a_--_e_, for if it had, then the effect Z would have come into
existence during that time, which, by the hypothesis, it did not do. The
cause Y, therefore, must have come into existence at _f_, and if
"everything that comes into existence has a cause," Y must have had a
cause X operating at _e_; X, a cause W operating at _d_; and, so on, _ad
infinitum_.[31]
If the only demonstrative argument for the existence of a Deity, which
Hume advances, thus, literally, "goes to water" in the solvent of his
philosophy, the reasoning from the evidence of design does not fare much
better. If Hume really knew of any valid reply to Philo's arguments in
the following passages of the _Dialogues_, he has dealt unfairly by the
leader in concealing it:--
"But because I know you are not much swayed by names and
authorities, I shall endeavour to show you, a little more
distinctly, the inconveniences of that Anthropomorphism, which you
have embraced; and shall prove, that there is no ground to suppose
a plan of the world to be formed in the Divine mind, consisting of
distinct ideas, differently arranged, in the same manner as an
architect forms in his head the plan of a house which he intends to
execute.
"It is not easy, I own, to see what is gained by this supposition,
whether we judge the matter by _Reason_ or by _Experience_. We are
still obliged to mount higher, in order to find the cause of this
cause, which you had assigned as satisfactory and conclusive.
"If _Reason_ (I mean abstract reason, derived from inquiries _a
priori_) be not alike mute with regard to all questions concerning
cause and effect, this sentence at least it will venture to
pronounce: That a mental world, or universe of ideas, requires a
cause as much as does a material world, or universe of objects;
and, if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar cause.
For what is there in this subject, which should occasion a
different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are
entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition,
which is not common to both of them.
"Again, when we will needs force _Experience_ to pronounce some
sentence, even on those subjects which lie beyond her sphere,
neither can she perceive any material difference in this
particular, between these two kinds of worlds; but finds them to be
governed by similar principles, and to depend upon an equal variety
of causes in their operations. We have specimens in miniature of
both of them. Our own mind resembles the one; a vegetable or animal
body the other. Let experience, therefore, judge from these
samples. Nothing seems more delicate, with regard to its causes,
than thought: and as these causes never operate in two persons
after the same manner, so we never find two persons who think
exactly alike. Nor indeed does the same person think exactly alike
at any two different periods of time. A difference of age, of the
disposition of his body, of weather, of food, of company, of books,
of passions; any of these particulars, or others more minute, are
sufficient to alter the curious machinery of thought, and
communicate to it very different movements and operations. As far
as we can judge, vegetables and animal bodies are not more delicate
in their motions, nor depend upon a greater variety or more curious
adjustment of springs and principles.
"How, therefore, shall we satisfy ourselves concerning the cause of
that Being whom you suppose the Author of Nature, or, according to
your system of anthropomorphism, the ideal world in which you trace
the material? Have we not the same reason to trace the ideal world
into another ideal world, or new intelligent principle? But if we
stop and go no farther; why go so far? Why not stop at the material
world? How can we satisfy ourselves without going on _in
infinitum_? And after all, what satisfaction is there in that
infinite progression? Let us remember the story of the Indian
philosopher and his elephant. It was never more applicable than to
the present subject. If the material world rests upon a similar
ideal world, this ideal world must rest upon some other; and so on
without end. It were better, therefore, never to look beyond the
present material world. By supposing it to contain the principle of
its order within itself, we really assert it to be God; and the
sooner we arrive at that Divine Being, so much the better. When you
go one step beyond the mundane system you only excite an
inquisitive humour, which it is impossible ever to satisfy.
"To say, that the different ideas which compose the reason of the
Supreme Being, fall into order of themselves and by their own
natures, is really to talk without any precise meaning. If it has a
meaning, I would fain know why it is not as good sense to say,
that the parts of the material world fall into order of themselves,
and by their own nature. Can the one opinion be intelligible while
the other is not so?"--(II. pp. 461-4.)
Cleanthes, in replying to Philo's discourse, says that it is very easy
to answer his arguments; but, as not unfrequently happens with
controversialists, he mistakes a reply for an answer, when he declares
that--
"The order and arrangement of nature, the curious adjustment of
final causes, the plain use and intention of every part and organ;
all these bespeak in the clearest language one intelligent cause or
author. The heavens and the earth join in the same testimony. The
whole chorus of nature raises one hymn to the praises of its
Creator."--(II. p. 465.)
Though the rhetoric of Cleanthes may be admired, its irrelevancy to the
point at issue must be admitted. Wandering still further into the region
of declamation, he works himself into a passion:
"You alone, or almost alone, disturb this general harmony. You
start abstruse doubts, cavils, and objections: You ask me what is
the cause of this cause? I know not: I care not: that concerns not
me. I have found a Deity; and here I stop my inquiry. Let those go
further who are wiser or more enterprising."--(II. p. 466.)
In other words, O Cleanthes, reasoning having taken you as far as you
want to go, you decline to advance any further; even though you fully
admit that the very same reasoning forbids you to stop where you are
pleased to cry halt! But this is simply forcing your reason to abdicate
in favour of your caprice. It is impossible to imagine that Hume, of all
men in the world, could have rested satisfied with such an act of
high-treason against the sovereignty of philosophy. We may rather
conclude that the last word of the discussion, which he gives to Philo,
is also his own.
"If I am still to remain in utter ignorance of causes, and can
absolutely give an explication of nothing, I shall never esteem it
any advantage to shove off for a moment a difficulty, which, you
acknowledge, must immediately, in its full force, recur upon me.
Naturalists[32] indeed very justly explain particular effects by
more general causes, though these general causes should remain in
the end totally inexplicable; but they never surely thought it
satisfactory to explain a particular effect by a particular cause,
which was no more to be accounted for than the effect itself. An
ideal system, arranged of itself, without a precedent design, is
not a whit more explicable than a material one, which attains its
order in a like manner; nor is there any more difficulty in the
latter supposition than in the former."--(II. p. 466.)
It is obvious that, if Hume had been pushed, he must have admitted that
his opinion concerning the existence of a God, and of a certain remote
resemblance of his intellectual nature to that of man, was an hypothesis
which might possess more or less probability, but was incapable on his
own principles of any approach to demonstration. And to all attempts to
make any practical use of his theism; or to prove the existence of the
attributes of infinite wisdom, benevolence, justice, and the like, which
are usually ascribed to the Deity, by reason, he opposes a searching
critical negation.[33]
The object of the speech of the imaginary Epicurean in the eleventh
section of the _Inquiry_, entitled _Of a Particular Providence and of a
Future State_, is to invert the argument of Bishop Butler's _Analogy_.
That famous defence of theology against the _a priori_ scepticism of
Freethinkers of the eighteenth century, who based their arguments on the
inconsistency of the revealed scheme of salvation with the attributes of
the Deity, consists, essentially, in conclusively proving that, from a
moral point of view, Nature is at least as reprehensible as orthodoxy.
If you tell me, says Butler, in effect, that any part of revealed
religion must be false because it is inconsistent with the divine
attributes of justice and mercy; I beg leave to point out to you, that
there are undeniable natural facts which are fully open to the same
objection. Since you admit that nature is the work of God, you are
forced to allow that such facts are consistent with his attributes.
Therefore, you must also admit, that the parallel facts in the scheme of
orthodoxy are also consistent with them, and all your arguments to the
contrary fall to the ground. Q.E.D. In fact, the solid sense of Butler
left the Deism of the Freethinkers not a leg to stand upon. Perhaps,
however, he did not remember the wise saying that "A man seemeth right
in his own cause, but another cometh after and judgeth him." Hume's
Epicurean philosopher adopts the main arguments of the _Analogy_, but
unfortunately drives them home to a conclusion of which the good Bishop
would hardly have approved.
"I deny a Providence, you say, and supreme governor of the world,
who guides the course of events, and punishes the vicious with
infamy and disappointment, and rewards the virtuous with honour and
success in all their undertakings. But surely I deny not the course
itself of events, which lies open to every one's inquiry and
examination. I acknowledge that, in the present order of things,
virtue is attended with more peace of mind than vice, and meets
with a more favourable reception from the world. I am sensible
that, according to the past experience of mankind, friendship is
the chief joy of human life, and moderation the only source of
tranquillity and happiness. I never balance between the virtuous
and the vicious course of life; but am sensible that, to a
well-disposed mind, every advantage is on the side of the former.
And what can you say more, allowing all your suppositions and
reasonings? You tell me, indeed, that this disposition of things
proceeds from intelligence and design. But, whatever it proceeds
from, the disposition itself, on which depends our happiness and
misery, and consequently our conduct and deportment in life, is
still the same. It is still open for me, as well as you, to
regulate my behaviour by my experience of past events. And if you
affirm that, while a divine providence is allowed, and a supreme
distributive justice in the universe, I ought to expect some more
particular reward of the good, and punishment of the bad, beyond
the ordinary course of events, I here find the same fallacy which I
have before endeavoured to detect. You persist in imagining, that
if we grant that divine existence for which you so earnestly
contend, you may safely infer consequences from it, and add
something to the experienced order of nature, by arguing from the
attributes which you ascribe to your gods. You seem not to remember
that all your reasonings on this subject can only be drawn from
effects to causes; and that every argument, deduced from causes to
effects, must of necessity be a gross sophism, since it is
impossible for you to know anything of the cause, but what you have
antecedently not inferred, but discovered to the full, in the
effect.
"But what must a philosopher think of those vain reasoners who,
instead of regarding the present scene of things as the sole object
of their contemplation, so far reverse the whole course of nature,
as to render this life merely a passage to something further; a
porch, which leads to a greater and vastly different building; a
prologue which serves only to introduce the piece, and give it more
grace and propriety? Whence, do you think, can such philosophers
derive their idea of the gods? From their own conceit and
imagination surely. For if they derive it from the present
phenomena, it would never point to anything further, but must be
exactly adjusted to them. That the divinity may _possibly_ be
endowed with attributes which we have never seen exerted; may be
governed by principles of action which we cannot discover to be
satisfied; all this will freely be allowed. But still this is mere
_possibility_ and hypothesis. We never can have reason to _infer_
any attributes or any principles of action in him, but so far as we
know them to have been exerted and satisfied.
"_Are there any marks of a distributive justice in the world?_ If
you answer in the affirmative, I conclude that, since justice here
exerts itself, it is satisfied. If you reply in the negative, I
conclude that you have then no reason to ascribe justice, in our
sense of it, to the gods. If you hold a medium between affirmation
and negation, by saying that the justice of the gods at present
exerts itself in part, but not in its full extent, I answer that
you have no reason to give it any particular extent, but only so
far as you see it, _at present_, exert itself."--(IV. pp. 164-6.)
Thus, the Freethinkers said, the attributes of the Deity being what they
are, the scheme of orthodoxy is inconsistent with them; whereupon Butler
gave the crushing reply: Agreeing with you as to the attributes of the
Deity, nature, by its existence, proves that the things to which you
object are quite consistent with them. To whom enters Hume's Epicurean
with the remark: Then, as nature is our only measure of the attributes
of the Deity in their practical manifestation, what warranty is there
for supposing that such measure is anywhere transcended? That the "other
side" of nature, if there be one, is governed on different principles
from this side?
Truly on this topic silence is golden; while speech reaches not even
the dignity of sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, and is but the weary
clatter of an endless logomachy. One can but suspect that Hume also had
reached this conviction; and that his shadowy and inconsistent theism
was the expression of his desire to rest in a state of mind, which
distinctly excluded negation, while it included as little as possible of
affirmation, respecting a problem which he felt to be hopelessly
insoluble.
But, whatever might be the views of the philosopher as to the arguments
for theism, the historian could have no doubt respecting its many-shaped
existence, and the great part which it has played in the world. Here,
then, was a body of natural facts to be investigated scientifically, and
the result of Hume's inquiries is embodied in the remarkable essay on
the _Natural History of Religion_. Hume anticipated the results of
modern investigation in declaring fetishism and polytheism to be the
form in which savage and ignorant men naturally clothe their ideas of
the unknown influences which govern their destiny; and they are
polytheists rather than monotheists because,--
" ... the first ideas of religion arose, not from a contemplation
of the works of nature, but from a concern with regard to the
events of life, and from the incessant hopes and fears which
actuate the human mind ... in order to carry men's attention beyond
the present course of things, or lead them into any inference
concerning invisible intelligent power, they must be actuated by
some passion which prompts their thought and reflection, some
motive which urges their first inquiry. But what passion shall we
have recourse to, for explaining an effect of such mighty
consequence? Not speculative curiosity merely, or the pure love of
truth. That motive is too refined for such gross apprehensions,
and would lead men into inquiries concerning the frame of nature, a
subject too large and comprehensive for their narrow capacities. No
passions, therefore, can be supposed to work on such barbarians,
but the ordinary affections of human life; the anxious concern for
happiness, the dread of future misery, the terror of death, the
thirst of revenge, the appetite for food and other necessaries.
Agitated by hopes and fears of this nature, especially the latter,
men scrutinize, with a trembling curiosity, the course of future
causes, and examine the various and contrary events of human life.
And in this disordered scene, with eyes still more disordered and
astonished, they see the first obscure traces of divinity."--(IV.
pp. 443, 4.)
The shape assumed by these first traces of divinity is that of the
shadows of men's own minds, projected out of themselves by their
imaginations:--
"There is an universal tendency among mankind to conceive all
beings like themselves, and to transfer to every object those
qualities with which they are familiarly acquainted, and of which
they are intimately conscious.... The _unknown causes_ which
continually employ their thought, appearing always in the same
aspect, are all apprehended to be of the same kind or species. Nor
is it long before we ascribe to them thought, and reason, and
passion, and sometimes even the limbs and figures of men, in order
to bring them nearer to a resemblance with ourselves."--(IV. pp.
446-7.)
Hume asks whether polytheism really deserves the name of theism.
"Our ancestors in Europe, before the revival of letters, believed
as we do at present, that there was one supreme God, the author of
nature, whose power, though in itself uncontrollable, was yet often
exerted by the interposition of his angels and subordinate
ministers, who executed his sacred purposes. But they also
believed, that all nature was full of other invisible powers:
fairies, goblins, elves, sprights; beings stronger and mightier
than men, but much inferior to the celestial natures who surround
the throne of God. Now, suppose that any one, in these ages, had
denied the existence of God and of his angels, would not his
impiety justly have deserved the appellation of atheism, even
though he had still allowed, by some odd capricious reasoning, that
the popular stories of elves and fairies were just and well
grounded? The difference, on the one hand, between such a person
and a genuine theist, is infinitely greater than that, on the
other, between him and one that absolutely excludes all invisible
intelligent power. And it is a fallacy, merely from the casual
resemblance of names, without any conformity of meaning, to rank
such opposite opinions under the same denomination.
"To any one who considers justly of the matter, it will appear that
the gods of the polytheists are no better than the elves and
fairies of our ancestors, and merit as little as any pious worship
and veneration. These pretended religionists are really a kind of
superstitious atheists, and acknowledge no being that corresponds
to our idea of a Deity. No first principle of mind or thought; no
supreme government and administration; no divine contrivance or
intention in the fabric of the world."--(IV. pp. 450-51.)
The doctrine that you may call an atheist anybody whose ideas about the
Deity do not correspond with your own, is so largely acted upon by
persons who are certainly not of Hume's way of thinking and, probably,
so far from having read him, would shudder to open any book bearing his
name, except the _History of England_, that it is surprising to trace
the theory of their practice to such a source.
But on thinking the matter over, this theory seems so consonant with
reason, that one feels ashamed of having suspected many excellent
persons of being moved by mere malice and viciousness of temper to call
other folks atheists, when, after all, they have been obeying a purely
intellectual sense of fitness. As Hume says, truly enough, it is a mere
fallacy, because two people use the same names for things, the ideas of
which are mutually exclusive, to rank such opposite opinions under the
same denomination. If the Jew says, that the Deity is absolute unity,
and that it is sheer blasphemy to say that He ever became incarnate in
the person of a man; and, if the Trinitarian says, that the Deity is
numerically three as well as numerically one, and that it is sheer
blasphemy to say that He did not so become incarnate, it is obvious
enough that each must be logically held to deny the existence of the
other's Deity. Therefore; that each has a scientific right to call the
other an atheist; and that, if he refrains, it is only on the ground of
decency and good manners, which should restrain an honourable man from
employing even scientifically justifiable language, if custom has given
it an abusive connotation. While one must agree with Hume, then, it is,
nevertheless, to be wished that he had not set the bad example of
calling polytheists "superstitious atheists." It probably did not occur
to him that, by a parity of reasoning, the Unitarians might justify the
application of the same language to the Ultramontanes, and _vice versâ_.
But, to return from a digression which may not be wholly unprofitable,
Hume proceeds to show in what manner polytheism incorporated physical
and moral allegories, and naturally accepted hero-worship; and he sums
up his views of the first stages of the evolution of theology as
follows:--
"These then are the general principles of polytheism, founded in
human nature, and little or nothing dependent on caprice or
accident. As the _causes_ which bestow happiness or misery, are in
general very little known and very uncertain, our anxious concern
endeavours to attain a determinate idea of them: and finds no
better expedient than to represent them as intelligent, voluntary
agents, like ourselves, only somewhat superior in power and wisdom.
The limited influence of these agents, and their proximity to human
weakness, introduce the various distribution and division of their
authority, and thereby give rise to allegory. The same principles
naturally deify mortals, superior in power, courage, or
understanding, and produce hero-worship; together with fabulous
history and mythological tradition, in all its wild and
unaccountable forms. And as an invisible spiritual intelligence is
an object too refined for vulgar apprehension, men naturally affix
it to some sensible representation; such as either the more
conspicuous parts of nature, or the statues, images, and pictures,
which a more refined age forms of its divinities."--(IV. p. 461.)
How did the further stage of theology, monotheism, arise out of
polytheism? Hume replies, certainly not by reasonings from first causes
or any sort of fine-drawn logic:--
"Even at this day, and in Europe, ask any of the vulgar why he
believes in an Omnipotent Creator of the world, he will never
mention the beauty of final causes, of which he is wholly ignorant:
He will not hold out his hand and bid you contemplate the
suppleness and variety of joints in his fingers, their bending all
one way, the counterpoise which they receive from the thumb, the
softness and fleshy parts of the inside of the hand, with all the
other circumstances which render that member fit for the use to
which it was destined. To these he has been long accustomed; and he
beholds them with listlessness and unconcern. He will tell you of
the sudden and unexpected death of such-a-one; the fall and bruise
of such another; the excessive drought of this season; the cold and
rains of another. These he ascribes to the immediate operation of
Providence: And such events as, with good reasoners, are the chief
difficulties in admitting a Supreme Intelligence, are with him the
sole arguments for it....
"We may conclude therefore, upon the whole, that since the vulgar,
in nations which have embraced the doctrine of theism, still build
it upon irrational and superstitious grounds, they are never led
into that opinion by any process of argument, but by a certain
train of thinking, more suitable to their genius and capacity.
"It may readily happen, in an idolatrous nation, that though men
admit the existence of several limited deities, yet there is some
one God, whom, in a particular manner, they make the object of
their worship and adoration. They may either suppose, that, in the
distribution of power and territory among the Gods, their nation
was subjected to the jurisdiction of that particular deity; or,
reducing heavenly objects to the model of things below, they may
represent one god as the prince or supreme magistrate of the rest,
who, though of the same nature, rules them with an authority like
that which an earthly sovereign exerts over his subjects and
vassals. Whether this god, therefore, be considered as their
peculiar patron, or as the general sovereign of heaven, his
votaries will endeavour, by every art, to insinuate themselves into
his favour; and supposing him to be pleased, like themselves, with
praise and flattery, there is no eulogy or exaggeration which will
be spared in their addresses to him. In proportion as men's fears
or distresses become more urgent, they still invent new strains of
adulation; and even he who outdoes his predecessor in swelling the
titles of his divinity, is sure to be outdone by his successor in
newer and more pompous epithets of praise. Thus they proceed, till
at last they arrive at infinity itself, beyond which there is no
further progress; And it is well if, in striving to get further,
and to represent a magnificent simplicity, they run not into
inexplicable mystery, and destroy the intelligent nature of their
deity, on which alone any rational worship or adoration can be
founded. While they confine themselves to the notion of a perfect
being, the Creator of the world, they coincide, by chance, with the
principles of reason and true philosophy; though they are guided to
that notion, not by reason, of which they are in a great measure
incapable, but by the adulation and fears of the most vulgar
superstition."--(IV. pp. 463-6.)
"Nay, if we should suppose, what never happens, that a popular
religion were found, in which it was expressly declared, that
nothing but morality could gain the divine favour; if an order of
priests were instituted to inculcate this opinion, in daily
sermons, and with all the arts of persuasion; yet so inveterate are
the people's prejudices, that, for want of some other superstition,
they would make the very attendance on these sermons the essentials
of religion, rather than place them in virtue and good morals. The
sublime prologue of Zaleucus' laws inspired not the Locrians, so
far as we can learn, with any sounder notions of the measures of
acceptance with the deity, than were familiar to the other
Greeks."--(IV. p. 505.)
It has been remarked that Hume's writings are singularly devoid of local
colour; of allusions to the scenes with which, he was familiar, and to
the people from whom he sprang. Yet, surely, the Lowlands of Scotland
were more in his thoughts than the Zephyrean promontory, and the hard
visage of John Knox peered from behind the mask of Zaleucus, when this
passage left his pen. Nay, might not an acute German critic discern
therein a reminiscence of that eminently Scottish institution, a "Holy
Fair"? where as Hume's young contemporary sings:--
"... opens out his cauld harangues
On practice and on morals;
An' aff the godly pour in thrangs
To gie the jars and barrels
A lift that day.
"What signifies his barren shine
Of moral powers and reason?
His English style and gesture line
Are a' clean out of season.
Like Socrates or Antonine,
Or some auld pagan heathen,
The moral man he does define,
But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day."[34]
FOOTNOTES:
[28] In a note to the Essay on Superstition and Enthusiasm, Hume is
careful to define what he means by this term. "By priests I understand
only the pretenders to power and dominion, and to a superior sanctity of
character, distinct from virtue and good morals. These are very
different from _clergymen_, who are set apart to the care of sacred
matters, and the conducting our public devotions with greater decency
and order. There is no rank of men more to be respected than the
latter."--(III. p. 83.)
[29] It is needless to quote the rest of the passage, though I cannot
refrain from observing that the recommendation which it contains, that a
"man of letters" should become a philosophical sceptic as "the first and
most essential step towards being a sound believing Christian," though
adopted and largely acted upon by many a champion of orthodoxy in these
days, is questionable in taste, if it be meant as a jest, and more than
questionable in morality, if it is to be taken in earnest. To pretend
that you believe any doctrine for no better reason than that you doubt
everything else, would be dishonest, if it were not preposterous.
[30] A perplexity which is increased rather than diminished by some
passages in a letter to Gilbert Elliot of Minto (March 10, 1751). Hume
says, "You would perceive by the sample I have given you that I make
Cleanthes the hero of the dialogue; whatever you can think of, to
strengthen that side of the argument, will be most acceptable to me. Any
propensity you imagine I have to the other side crept in upon me against
my will; and 'tis not long ago that I burned an old manuscript book,
wrote before I was twenty, which contained, page after page, the gradual
progress of my thoughts on this head. It began with an anxious scent
after arguments to confirm the common opinion; doubts stole in,
dissipated, returned; were again dissipated, returned again; and it was
a perpetual struggle of a restless imagination against
inclination--perhaps against reason.... I could wish Cleanthes' argument
could be so analysed as to be rendered quite formal and regular. The
propensity of the mind towards it--unless that propensity were as strong
and universal as that to believe in our senses and experience--will
still, I am afraid, be esteemed a suspicious foundation. 'Tis here I
wish for your assistance. We must endeavour to prove that this
propensity is somewhat different from our inclination to find our own
figures in the clouds, our faces in the moon, our passions and
sentiments even in inanimate matter. Such an inclination may and ought
to be controlled, and can never be a legitimate ground of assent."
(Burton, _Life_, I. pp. 331-3.) The picture of Hume here drawn
unconsciously by his own hand, is unlike enough to the popular
conception of him as a careless sceptic loving doubt for doubt's sake.
[31] Kant employs substantially the same argument:--"Würde das höchste
Wesen in dieser Kette der Bedingungen stehen, so würde es selbst ein
Glied der Reihe derselben sein, und eben so wie die niederen Glieder,
denen es vorgesetzt ist, noch fernere Untersuchungen wegen seines noch
höheren Grundes erfahren."--_Kritik._ Ed. Hartenstein, p. 422.
[32] _I.e._ Natural philosophers.
[33] Hume's letter to Mure of Caldwell, containing a criticism of
Leechman's sermon (Burton, I. p. 163), bears strongly on this point.
[34] Burns published the _Holy Fair_ only ten years after Hume's death.