as Theaetetus says, sometimes make 'My head dizzy,' when I revolve
the subject. Meantime, surely a nobler spectacle can hardly present
itself than our fairly abiding by our principle, amidst so many
plausible difficulties as assail it. I know no one principle in
theology or philosophy which has been so battered as that of Hume.
Not only Campbell, Paley, and so many more, confidently affirm errors
in it,--such as his assuming individual or general experience to
be universal; his quietly attributing to individual experience a belief
of facts which are believed by the vast mass of mankind on testimony,
and nothing else; his representing the experience of a man who says
he has seen a certain event as 'contrary' to the experience of him
who says he has not seen a similar one; his implying that no amount
of testimony can establish a miracle, which might compel us to believe
moral miracles to get rid of physical miracles; I say not only so, but
the most recent investigators of the theory of evidence cruelly abandon
him. The argument of Hume and Paley, says De Morgan, in his treatise
on Probabilities, (Encyclopaedia Metropolitana: Theory of
Probabilities, 182.) is a 'fallacy answered by fallacies,'--meaning
by this last that Paley had conceded to his opponent more than he ought
to have done. With similar vexatious opposition, Mr. J. S. Mill says,
that, to make any alleged fact contradictory to a law of causation,
'the allegation must be that this happened in the absence of any
adequate counteracting cause. Now, in the case of an alleged miracle,
the assertion is the exact opposite of this.' He says, 'that all which
Hume has made out is, that no evidence can prove a miracle to any one
who did not previously believe the existence of a being or beings
with supernatural power; or who believed himself to have full proof
that the character'(System of Logic, Vol. II. pp. 186, 187.) of such
being or beings is inconsistent with such an interference; that is,
the argument could have no force unless either a man believed there
were no God at all, or the objector happened to be something like a
God himself! And now, lastly, I have shown that the predicament of
Hume, and Voltaire, and Strauss, and you and myself (if consistent),
is just the reverse of that in which the argument from Transubstantiation
represents it. But never mind; so much more glory is due to us for
abiding by our principle. I begin almost to think that I am arriving
at that transcendental 'faith' which you admire so much, and which is
totally independent of logic and argument, and all 'intellectual
processes whatever.'"
____
July 23. I this day read to Mr. Fellowes the paper I had promised
a week or two before, and which I had entitled,
AN EXTERNAL REVELATION, EVEN OF ELEMENTARY "SPIRITUAL AND MORAL TRUTHS"
VERY POSSIBLE, AND VERY USEFUL; AND IN ANALOGY WITH THE CONDITIONS OF
HUMAN DEVELOPMENT, WHETHER IN THE INDIVIDUAL OR THE SPECIES.
It is Necessary to observe in the outset, that, even if I were to
grant your proposition, "that a revelation of moral and spiritual truth
is impossible,"--understanding by such "truth" what you seem to mean,
the truth which "Natural Religion," as it is called, has recognized in
some shape or other (for it has varied not a little),--it would leave
the chief reasons for imparting an external revelation just where they
were. I, at least, should never contend that the sole or even chief
object of an external revelation is to impart elementary moral or
spiritual truth, however possible I may deem it. On the contrary, I am
fully persuaded that the great purpose for which such a revelation has
been given is to communicate facts and truths many of which were quite
transcendental to the human faculties; which man would never have
discovered, and most of which he would never have surmised. All this
your favorite Mr. Newman perceived in his earlier days clearly enough,
and has recorded his sentiments held at that period in his "Phases."(p.42)
If I were to grant you, therefore, your proposition, it would leave the
question of an external revelation untouched; your hasty inference from
it, that every book-revelation is to be rejected, is perfectly gratuitous.
But I am thoroughly persuaded that the notion of the impossibility of all
external revelation of moral and spiritual truth, even of the elementary
form already referred to, is a fallacy.
Whether the religious faculty in men be a simple faculty, or (as Sir
James Mackintosh seemed to think might possibly be the case with
conscience) a complex one, constituted by means of several different
powers and principles of our nature, is a question not essential to the
argument; for I frankly admit at once, with Mr. Newman and Mr. Parker,
that there is such a susceptibility (simple or complex), and not a mere
abortive tendency, as Harrington seems to suppose possible. Otherwise
I cannot, I confess, account for the fact (so largely insisted upon by
Mr. Parker) of the very general, the all but universal, adoption by man
of some religion, and the power, the prodigious power, which, even when
false, hideously false, it exerts over him. But then I must as
frankly confess, that I can as little account for all the (not only
terrible but) uniform aberrations of this susceptibility, on which
Harrington has insisted, and which, I do think, prove (if ever truth
was proved by induction) one of two things; either that, as he says,
this susceptibility in man was originally defective and rudimentary, or
that man is no longer in his normal state; in other words, that he
is, as the Scriptures declare, depraved. I acknowledge I accept
this last solution; and firmly believe with Pascal, that without it
moral and religious philosophy must toil over the problem of
humanity in vain.
If this be so, we have, of course, no difficulty in believing that
there may be, in spite of the existence of the religious faculty in
man, ample scope for an external revelation, to correct its aberrations
and remedy its maladies.
But you will say that this fact is not to be taken for granted. I admit
it; and therefore lay no further stress upon it. I go one step further;
and shall endeavor, at least, to prove, that, supposing man is just
as he was created, yet also supposing, what neither Mr. Parker nor
Mr. Newman will deny, (and if they did, the whole history of the world
would confute them,) that man's religious faculty is not uniform or
determinate in its action, but is dependent on external development
and culture for assuming the form it does, ample scope is still left
for an external revelation. I contend that the entire condition of this
susceptibility (as shown by experience) proves that, if in truth an
external revelation be impossible, it is not because it has superseded
the necessity for one; and that the declaration of the elder deists
and modern "spiritualists" on this in the face of what all history
proves man to be, is the most preposterous in the world.
Further; I contend that all the analogies from the fundamental laws
of the development of man's nature,--from a consideration of the
relations in which that nature stands to the external world,--from
the absolute dependence of the individual on external culture, and
that of the whole species on its historic development,--are all in
favor of the notion both of the possibility and utility of an external
revelation, and even in favor of that particular form of it which
Mr. Newman and you so contemptuously call a "book" revelation.
I. I argue from all the analogies of the fundamental laws of the
development of the human mind. Nor do I fear to apply the reasoning
even to the cases in which it has been so confidently asserted that
there can be no revelation, on the fallacious ground that a
revelation "of spiritual and moral truth" presupposes in man certain
principles to which it appeals. To possess certain faculties for the
appreciation of spiritual and moral truth is one thing; to acquire
the conscious possession of that truth is another; the former fact
would not make an external revelation superfluous, or an empty
name. Every thing in the process of the mind's development goes to
show, that, whatever its capacities, tendencies, faculties,
"potentialities," (call them what you will,) a certain external
influence is necessary to awaken its dormant life; to turn a
"potentiality" into an "energy "; to transform a dim inkling of a
truth into an intelligent, vital, conscious recognition of it.
Nor is this law confined to mind alone; all nature attests its
presence. All effects are the result of properties or susceptibilities
in one thing, solicited by external contact with those of others.
The fire no doubt may smoulder in the dull and languid embers; it
is when the external breeze sweeps over them, that they begin to
sparkle and glow, and vindicate the vital element they contain. The
diamond in the mine has the same internal properties in the darkness
as in the light; it is not till the sun shines upon it, that it
flashes on the eye its splendor. Look at a flower of any particular
species; we see that, as it is developed in connection with a variety
of external influences,--as it comes successively under the action
of the sun, rain, dew, soil,--it expands in a particular manner, and
in that only. It exhibits a certain configuration of parts, a certain
form of leaf, a certain color, fragrance, and no other. We do not doubt,
on the one hand, that without the "skyey influences" these things would
never have been; nor, on the other; that the flower assumes this form
of development, and this alone, in virtue of its internal structure and
organization. But both sets of conditions must conspire in the result.
It is much the same with the mind. That it possesses certain tendencies
and faculties, which, as it develops itself, will terminate in certain
ideas and sentiments, is admitted; but apart from certain external
conditions of development, those sentiments and ideas will, in effect,
never be formed,--the mind will be in perpetual slumber. Thus, in point
of fact, this controversy is connected ultimately with that ancient
dispute as to the origin, sources, and genesis of human knowledge and
sentiments. I shall simply take for granted that you are (as most
philosophers are) an advocate of innate capacities, but not of "innate
ideas"; of "innate susceptibilities," but not of "innate sentiments";
that is, I presume you do not contend that the mind possesses more than
the faculties--the laws of thought and feeling--which, under conditions
of development, actually give birth to thoughts and feelings. These
faculties and susceptibilities are, no doubt, congenital with the mind,
--or, rather, are the mind itself. But its actually manifested phenomena
wait the of the external; and they will be modified accordingly. It is
absolutely dependent on experience in this sense, that it is only as
it is operated upon by the outward world that the dormant faculties,
whatever they are, and whatever their nature, be they few or many,--
intellectual, moral, or spiritual,--are first awakened. If a mind were
created (it is, at least, a conceivable case) with all the avenues to
the external world closed,--in fact, we sometimes see approximations
to such a condition in certain unhappy individuals,--we do not doubt
such a mind, by the present laws of the human constitution, could not
possess any thoughts, feelings, emotions; in fact, could exhibit none
of the phenomena, spiritual, intellectual, moral, or sensational,
which diversify it. In proportion as we see human beings approach this
condition,--in fact, we sometimes see them approach it very nearly,--we
see the "potentialities" of the soul (I do not like the word, but it
expresses my meaning better than any other I know) held in abeyance,
and such an imperfectly awakened man does not, in some cases, manifest
the degree of sensibility or intelligence manifested in many animals.
If the seclusion from sense and experience be quite complete, the life
of such a soul would be wrapped up in the germ, and possess no more
consciousness than a vegetable.
It appears, then, that universally, however true it may be, and
doubtless is, that the laws of thought and feeling enable us to derive
from external influence what it alone would never give, yet that
influences an indispensable condition, as we are at present constituted,
of the development of any and of all our faculties.
As this seems the law of development universally, it is so of the
spiritual and religious part of our nature as well as the rest; and
in this very fact we have abundant scope for the possibility and
utility of a revelation,--if God be pleased to give one,--even of
elementary moral and spiritual truth; since, though conceding the
perfect congruity between that truth and the structure of the soul,
it is only as it is in some way actually presented to it from without,
that it arrives at the conscious possession of it. And what, after
all, but such an external source of revelation is that Volume of
Nature, which, operating in perfect analogy with the aforesaid
conditions of the soul's development, awakens, though imperfectly,
the dormant elements of religious and spiritual life? So far from
its being true in any intelligible sense that an external revelation
of moral and spiritual truth is impossible, it is absolutely
necessary, in some form, as a condition of its evolution; so far from
its being true that such revelation is an absurdity, it is in strict
analogy with the fundamental laws of our being. Whether, if this be so,
the express external presentation of such truth in a book constructed
by divine wisdom and expressed in human language,--this last being
the most universal and most appropriate instrument by which man's
dormant powers are actually awakened,--may not be a more effective
method of attaining the end than any of man's devising, whether
instinctive or artificial; or than the casual influences of external
nature, well or ill deciphered;--all this is another question. But
some such external apparatus--applied to the faculties of men--is
essential, whether it be in the Volume of Nature, or in the "Bible"
or in a book of Mr. Newman or Mr. Parker. All that makes the difference
between you and a Hottentot (to recur to that illustration which
Harrington, I really think, fairly employed) depends on external
influences, and the consequent development of the spiritual and
religious faculties.
And this very fact--the unspeakable differences between man and man,
nation and nation, as regards recognition the conscious possession
of even elementary "moral and spiritual truth" (varying, as it
perpetually does, as those external influences vary, and more or
less perfect, according as that external "revelation," which, in
some degree, and of some species, is indispensable, more or less
perfect)--affords another indication of the ample utility of an
external divine revelation, as well as of its possibility; and a
proof that, if there be one, it is in harmony, again, with the
conditions of human nature. And here I may employ, in further
illustration, one of the analogies I adverted to a little time
ago. Not only is the flower never independent of external influences
for its actual development,--not only would it remain in the germ
without them,--but we see that within certain limits, often very wide,
the kind of external influence operates powerfully on the species,
and on the individual itself;--according as it is in one climate
or another,--in this soil or that,--submitted to culture or suffered
to grow wild. It is needless to apply the analogy. While we see
that the moral spiritual faculties of man no more than his other
faculties can attain their development except in cooperation with
some external influences, we also see that they exhibit every degree
and variety of development according to the quality of those external
influences. Is there then not even a possibility left for an external
revelation? If the actual exhibition of any spiritual and religious
phenomena in man not only depends on some external influences and
culture, but perpetually varies with them, what would such a
revelation be but a provision in analogy with these facts? But it is
sufficient to rebut this gratuitous dictum, of an external revelation
of "spiritual and moral truth being impossible," that some external
influence is necessary for any development of the religious faculty
at all. If the last be necessary, I cannot conceive how the other
should be impossible.
Nor is it any reply to say,--as I think has been abundantly shown in
your debates with Harrington,--that any such external influences only
make articulate that which already existed inarticulately in the heart;
that they only chafe and stimulate into life "the ivory of Pygmalion's
statue," to use his expression,--the dormant principles and sentiments
which somehow existed, but were in deep slumber. That which makes them
vital, active, the objects of consciousness and the sources of power,
may well be called a "revelation." Nay, since it seems that, in some
way, this outward voice must be heard first, I think it is more properly
so called than the internal response of the heart. That is rather the echo.
It may be admitted that the elementary truths of religion, once
propounded, are promptly admitted, but still in some external shape
they require to be propounded. There is such a thing in the human
mind as unrealized truth, both intellectual and spiritual; the
inarticulate muttering of an obscurely felt sentiment; a vague
appetency for something we are not distinctly conscious of. The clear
utterance of it, its distinct proposition to us, is the very thing
that is often wanted to convert this dim feeling into distinct vision.
This is the electric spark which transforms two invisible gases into
a visible and transparent fluid; this is the influence which evolves
the latent caloric, and makes it a powerful and active element.
I cannot help thinking that the great source of fallacy on this
subject arises from confounding the idea of certain characteristic
tendencies and potentialities of our nature with the supposition,--
contradicted by the whole religious history of man in all ages,--that
they must be everywhere efficaciously active, and spontaneously exhibit
a moral manifestation; than which there cannot, I conceive, be a
greater error.
I must entreat you to recollect Harrington's dilemma. Either the
supposed truths of your spiritual theory, or that of Mr. Newman or
Mr. Parker, are known to all mankind, or not; if they are, surely
their books, and every such book is the most important in the world;
if not, these authors did well to write, supposing them to have truth
on their side; but then that vindicates the possibility and utility
of a "book-revelation."
II. But I go a step further, and not only contend that, from the
very law of the soul's development, there is ample scope for a
revelation, even of elementary "moral and spiritual truth," but that
even if we supposed all men in actual possession of that truth, in
some shape or other, there would still be abundant scope for a
divinely constructed external instrument for giving it efficacy; and
that this, again, is in perfect analogy with the fundamental condition
of the soul's action. The principles of spiritual and religious life
are capable in an infinite variety of ways, of being modified,
intensified, vivified, by the external influences brought to bear
upon them from time to time. Not only must that external influence be
exerted for the first awakening of the soul, but it must be continued
all our life long, in order to maintain the principles thus elicited
in a state of activity. Sometimes they seem for a while to have
been half obliterated,--to fade away from the consciousness; they
are reillumined, made to blaze out again in brilliant light on the
"walls of the chambers of imagery," by some outward stimulus; by a
"word spoken in season"; by the recollection of some weighty apothegm
which embodies truth,--some ennobling image which illustrates it;
by the utterance of certain "charmed words," hallowed by association
as they fall on the external sense, or are recalled by memory. How
familiar to us all is this dependence on the external! How dull, how
sluggish, has often been the soul! A single word, the sight of an
object surrounded with vivid associations, the sudden suggestion of
a half-forgotten strain of poetry or song,--what power have these to
stir its stagnant depths, and awaken "spiritual" and every other
species of emotion, as well as intellectual activity! The lightning
does not more suddenly cleave the cloud in which it slumbered, the
sleeping ocean is not more suddenly ruffled by the descending tempest,
than the soul of man is thus capable of being vivified and animated
by the presentation of appropriate objects,--nay, often by even the
most casual external impulse. If this be so, is it not possible that
an external instrument for thus stimulating and vivifying spiritual
life might be given us by God; which, if not, in literal strictness,
a "revelation," would virtually have all the effect of one, as
rekindling the dying light, reillumining the fading characters, of
spiritual truth?
Nor, surely, is there much presumption in supposing that the appropriate
influences of such an instrumentality may be brought to bear upon us
with infinite advantage by Him who alone possesses perfect access to
all the avenues of our spirits; a perfect mastery of our whole nature;
of intellect, imagination, and conscience of those laws of association
and emotion which He himself has framed. If Shakspeare and Milton can
daily exercise over myriads of minds an ascendency which makes their
admirers speak of them almost with the "Bibliolatry" with which Mr.
Newman makes Christian speak of the Bible, I apprehend God could
construct a "book," even though it told man nothing which was strictly
a revelation, which might be of infinite value to him; simply from
the fact that the modes in which truths operate upon us, and by which
our faculties are educated to their perfection, are scarcely less
important than either the truths or the faculties themselves.
But I need say the less upon this point, inasmuch as Mr. Newman has
spoken of the New Testament, and its influence over his mental history,
in terms which conclusively show that, if it be not a "revelation,"
ample space is left for such a divinely constructed book, if God were
pleased to give one.
"There is no book in all the world," says he, "which I love and esteem
so much as the New Testament, with the devotional parts of the Old.
There is none which I know so intimately, the very words of which
dwell close to me in my most sacred thoughts, none for which I so
thank God, none on which my soul and heart have been to so great an
extent moulded. In my early boyhood, it was my private delight and
daily companion; and to it I owe the best part of whatever wisdom
there is in my manhood." (Soul, pp. 241, 242.)
I only doubt whether even this testimony, strong as it is, fully
represents the power which the Book has had in modifying his interior
life, though he would now fain renounce its proper authority; whether
it has not had more to do than he thinks in originating his
conception of such "moral and spiritual" truth as he still recognizes.
Its very language comes so spontaneously to his lips, that his dialect
of "spiritualism" is one continued plagiarism from David and Isaiah,
Paul and Christ. Nay, I may well be doubted whether the entire substance
of his spiritual theory be any thing else than a distorted and mutilated
Christianity.