XLI. THE preliminary notions hitherto set forth are to be regarded as
placed in the vestibule leading to the temple of Revelation. Now, before
we cross the threshold, it may be well to meet at once an objection
which will possibly be offered by modern incredulity. It is fashionably
said, that rational man can admit nothing as true except that which is
proved to him by logical demonstrations; and as for the acceptance of a
revealed religion faith is a necessary element, and this must exclude
(as commonly pretended) every kind of proof, therefore all reasoning is
out of the question, and the very basis of that which is sought to be
inculcated as a truth, renders it inadmissible. Such an objection,
however erroneous in reality, has too grave an appearance, and its
consequences would be too lamentable, to permit us to disregard it. It
becomes, therefore, indispensable, before entering the sanctuary of
Revelation, to remove the obstruction of such an error, even at the cost
of a digression from our path, in order to consider the matter in its
origin.
XLII. One of the primary laws of existence in the physical world is
self-love; that is, an instinct in every creature to procure its own
good, even at the expense of others, so that the preservation of one is
attended with the destruction of some others. All nature is in a
perpetual struggle within itself, and every component part receives the
elements of its own life and increment from the destruction of others.
This we see repeatedly happen under our own eyes, as well in plants as
in animals, and so evidently, that we need not here record instances to
confirm it. It is through this contrast of individual interests, through
this perpetual alternation of production and growth with decrease and
destruction, that Providence ordained the preservation of the world in
its totality, while the individuals perish and the species remain.
XLIII. Man also, considered only in his physical nature, is subject to
the universal law of self-love; and until he has arrived at a correct
appreciation of his moral nature and duties, he will allow himself to be
impelled by that law to possess himself of all that he thinks suitable
to his own advantage, regardless of the detriment of others, and even of
their very existence; and so will, on the other hand, every one else,
being in the same condition, act towards him. But the effects of
unrestrained self-love are by far more mischievous in man than in the
irrational animals, for the intelligence with which he is endowed
affords him more means and artifices to accomplish his selfish views, so
long as he is governed by these and not by nobler impulses. Hence it
happens also, that so long as a man lies under the fascination of
self-love, society, of which he is called to become a member, places him
in a condition, from which he looks upon his fellow-men as the natural
enemies of his individual happiness; and he feels a propensity to throw
obstacles, either by malice or violence, in the way of others, to
prevent their attaining that which is denied to him.
XLIV. But we find, also, in man another principle diametrically opposed
to self-love, which, proceeding from the noblest prerogatives of his
soul, distinguishes him from the irrational creatures, and invites him
to a career totally opposite to theirs. This principle, commonly called
virtue, we shall express by the more comprehensive name of _heroism_. As
by self-love man is inclined to sacrifice the welfare of others to his
own, so by heroism he is led to sacrifice himself to the welfare of
others. When we see a mother struggling to death, and with admirable
self-devotion, against overpowering waves, or ferocious beasts, or
devouring flames, to save her child from certain destruction, it would
be stolidity and folly for us to bring into comparison with this act,
the cares bestowed by a brute in feeding her young, since as soon as the
latter has carried into effect the order of nature, she forsakes them,
and, when grown, does not even recognise them; whereas the love of a
mother endures beyond the grave. When a husband, bound with the
indissoluble tie of affection to the woman of his heart, voluntarily
sacrifices to her everything dearest in the world, and finds in her
affection ample recompense for his direst privations, who would dare to
attribute this to the physical sexual tendency common even to the
brutes? a tendency, which, besides manifesting itself only at detached
periods of time, disappears altogether in old age, whereas conjugal love
runs beyond the confines of time. The same may be said of a friend, who
would give his own life to save that of his beloved, of a generous
warrior who risks everything for his country's sake, and of a host of
others, who magnanimously devote themselves to the relief of suffering
humanity; in short, of every one who feels himself moved by a superior
force to cross over the boundaries of selfishness and sensuality, and to
become a hero.
XLV. In all these phenomena, a principle directly adverse to that of
physical nature manifests itself. While in the latter, self-love is a
necessary supreme law, in the spiritual life of man we see prevailing,
as a foundation to morality, a voluntary sacrifice of self, offered on
the altar of love. No pain or regret ever accompanies such an offering;
on the contrary, a sensible man undertakes it with cheerfulness, as a
manifestation of his exalted nature, and derives from its performance a
purer joy than all other earthly enjoyments could afford him. But this
love, which limits and conquers self-love, this love which so well
testifies to the excellence of man, whence does it proceed? Assuredly
not from physical nature; this is, on the contrary, based upon a law
which would destroy love. It must emanate, then, from a source, itself a
prototype of moral perfection, a perpetual spring of the purest love;
and this source is God. Through the effects and impressions of this
celestial love, man feels the need of approaching his Creator, of
finding in Him the provident Ruler of the human destinies, and of
expecting from His kindness the future triumph of good, and an ultimate
perfection of all things. God, providence, and the immortality of the
soul, become then for him incontestable truths: and at such a knowledge
he does not arrive by way of laborious instruction and logical
demonstrations; but it springs up, as it were, in his inward feeling,
which prompts him to regulate his life according to that sublime model
of moral perfection; therefore, although reason furnishes not to him
logical proofs of these truths, yet he finds the presentiment of them
within his heart, he feels them, he accepts them with a force more
sentimental than intellectual, he embraces them with enthusiasm, and can
no longer detach himself from them; in short he _believes_ them.
XLVI. Thus, with the same confidence with which man admits as true, what
is demonstrated to his reason by solid arguments,--and he is then said
to be _convinced_,--does he likewise give his assent to the noble
inspirations of his heart, not yet depraved by abject inclinations,--and
he is then said to be _persuaded_. Thus there are two kinds of truths,
equally ascertained, and therefore equally admissible; the one
proceeding from intellect and called rational truth, the other formed in
the heart, and called moral truth. The source of the latter might also
properly be called _good sense_, which in fact acts, in many
circumstances of life, in lieu of pure reason. A man endowed with good
sense, and who has not yet become a slave to sensual appetites, will not
doubt for a moment, even without having ever been acquainted with the
proofs, that lying, calumniating, blaspheming, false swearing, robbing,
murdering, betraying friendship, country or honour, are culpable and
abominable actions. Other truths based on good sense are also the
following: the faith we have in friendship, in the rectitude of those
who administer justice, in the fidelity of a beloved object, in the
tenderness of parents, in the excellence of virtue, and above all, in
the wisdom, goodness, and providence of God; all these things we admit
within our souls, not in consequence of a cold calculation of the
intellect, but through an irresistible impulse of the heart, and in
consequence of a sort of presentiment springing from the consciousness
of our own noble spirituality, which develops itself and gains force, in
proportion as we elevate ourselves above the material propensities to
which we are subject as citizens of this earth.
XLVII. Those who, throwing themselves on a severe rationalism, will
recognise nothing as true but what is demonstrated to them like
mathematical theorems, will look upon the sentiments above referred to
as delusions of the fancy, because they see them founded but upon
feeling; but they who think so are manifestly in error. If faith in God,
in His providence, and in the immortality of the human soul, were a mere
product of the imagination, it would last only so long as the semblance,
which had given it aliment, exists; and when man is awakened to the
sense of realities and facts calculated to destroy the delusion, he
would be seen to withdraw from the meshes of his error, and his reason
triumphant would confess the former aberration of the mind; yet it
happens not so. In the moment we are struck by some grave calamity, when
we see fond hopes, long cherished, vanish in an instant, or when we are
on the point of losing what is dearest to us, why is faith in God and in
His providence not then weakened in the religious man? Why, on the
contrary, does he cling to it more and more? The reason is, because such
a faith is not a cold theorem, against which some doubt may eventually
arise, but a truth rooted in the love inherent in our nature; and
consequently it acquires vigour with the growth of love, and its power
cannot be extinguished but when we cease to love. So, also, the other
impulses to heroism and to exalted moral action, by which we are induced
to great sacrifices, or led to believe ourselves capable of
accomplishing them, are produced in us by faith in an eternal Source of
pure love, by that faith which carries with itself the surety of a
future life and a future kingdom founded upon love. Therefore, in
proportion as man succeeds in subduing his own passions, or as these
grow faint by age or other causes, so his love grows more vigorous; and
as earthly objects gradually disappear, so faith rises and shews itself
all-pervading and invincible.
XLVIII. As a condition indispensable to the entertainment of faith, we
have already insisted on the necessity of previously freeing the heart
from the sway of the sensual appetites; and it is not without a grave
reason, for therein precisely consists the secret of the solution of the
great question agitated in all ages between the so-called rationalists
and the supernaturalists. Intellect and reason are rays from the Divine
wisdom, bestowed upon man to assist him to discern between true and
false, between good and evil; but such a function is not exercised by
those faculties with an absolute power over the human will; they, on the
contrary, are subservient to such desires and passions as have acquired
a preponderance in the heart; they are similar to those ministers of a
prince who, in offering him advice, only aim at facilitating the
attainment of their master's wishes; or to the known effects of a glass
applied to a jaundiced eye. So long as man remains faithful to his moral
duties, and desires nothing but what is good and honest, his intellect
and reason always offer him valid arguments to confirm him in his
purpose, and to augment his love of virtue; and then, also, the noblest
dogmas of faith, God, providence, and immortality find easy access to
his mind, and are Harboured with joy. But if depraved propensities have
corrupted his heart, so that his aspirations are in a wrong and base
direction, then these same faculties become ministers to the predominant
passion, and suggest to man sophisms, fallacies, and specious
subtleties, whereby to disown that which he heretofore respected, to
upset the edifice of his faith, to lull his conscience and quiet
remorse, to excuse his weaknesses and break through every restraint, and
thus to warrant every kind of fault and vice. Hence it is that the
knowledge and discernment of what is true or untrue, in the moral world,
depends, in a considerable degree, upon the practice of good or evil;
hence it is, that the judgments of the mind are modified by the
inclinations of the heart, and that virtue opens the way to faith, and
vice is the author of infidelity.
XLIX. From what we have hitherto briefly stated, it will appear
sufficiently obvious that the dogmas of revealed religion, though based
rather on the ground of faith than on that of philosophy and strict
criticism, are yet, for an upright man, susceptible of a degree of
evidence equal to that of any other demonstrable truth, inasmuch as they
have their foundation in human nature itself, and can be rejected but by
him who rebels against the noblest impulses of the heart, to give
himself up to the sway of passions or inordinate appetites.
One of the features, which most enhances the value of religion, is
precisely this, that it is the product, not of transcendental devices of
the mind, but of faith in God, itself springing from love, and that
consequently, it is not originated by the intellect, but infused by a
Divine grace. Thus we see every day, in our own experience, that the
loftiest thoughts of virtue and heroism are not suggested to us by a
long and laborious chain of syllogisms, but break upon us unexpectedly
as inspirations of the heart; truly--considering the divine spirit
dwelling within us, and which we have but to harbour carefully--they
break upon us like inspirations of heaven.
Having, as we hope, satisfactorily disposed of the objection usually put
forward by the so-called rationalists, we shall now proceed to relate
the modes by which Divine revelation historically came into actuality.