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Being in philosophy a
sceptic as to all that transcends individual experience, Hume was
regarded and treated as a sceptic in religion. ' Hume the Atheist' was a
designation of him not uncommon. Accordingly, he was disliked and
resisted as the enemy of religion In the boldness of his spirit he
rather courted antagonism; yet the sense of odium fretted his life, and
often seriously embittered it.
This traditional view of
his position, though erroneous, still lingers among us, on account of
the difficulty of distinguishing between a man's theory and his faith.
To Hume it was matter of satisfaction that ' our most holy religion is
founded on Faith, not on Reason.' Most Christians will hold that faith
and reason are united in the religious life; and religious faith at
least is honoured by Hume. His scepticism belonged to the region of
philosophy, not to the sphere of religion. No doubt, scepticism, in
dealing even with the abstruse problems of the universe, must in some
degree react on faith and feeling. But in Hume's life it never banished
them. He had started with the assumption that certainty depends
altogether on the senses; and as the knowledge of God cannot come in
this way, religion was for him exclusively a matter of faith. Yet so
difficult is it for a man to adhere to his theory, that he, supposing
himself to be Epicurus, addressing the Athenians, says, 'Religion is
nothing but a species of Philosophy' (Green, Works, IV., 171; Inquiry
Concerning Human Understanding, sec. xi., Of a Particular Providence and
of a Future State, ed. Selby-Bigge, section 113). No life of Hume can be
accurate which depicts him as ' Hume the Atheist.'
How his thought
concerning the philosophic interpretation of the universe widened out
will readily appear by reference to his theory of morals. In theory he
held that utility is the measure of rightness—a poor enough theory I
admit, but he maintained at the same time that our regard for moral
distinctions depends on ' a feeling which Nature has made universal in
the race.' The Supreme Power rules for righteousness. ' The Deity is
known to us only by his productions.' ' As the universe shews wisdom and
goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness' (Inquiry Concerning Human
Understanding, sec. xi.).
Conclusive as this
evidence is, Hume made such open and formal avowal of his sceptical
philosophy, as if it were matter of enjoyment to him to do so (Burton,
II., 443), that he was resisted by the religious men of his time as the
adversary of earnest religious life. On the other hand, he was the
intimate friend of prominent clergymen, such as Blair, ' Jupiter'
Carlyle, and Home, though these belonged to the ' moderate ' school.
Nevertheless, of the intensity of antagonism to him, we have this
striking testimony, that his most intimate friend, Adam Smith, was
strenuously opposed to the publication of his critical views, and
expressed this opinion in strongest terms even after Hume's death, when
the question was raised whether the author's desire should be respected
as to the printing of the Dialogues on Religion. We have besides
evidence of the spirit of the times in the fact that a complaint was
made against Hume before the Presbytery of Edinburgh that he should be
subjected to discipline for heterodoxy; this was formally discussed, but
rejected. It is mainly to the impression made by the Essay on Miracles
that the intensity of feeling cherished in religious circles is to be
attributed.
In our day, it is
possible, by deliberate and critical investigation of his writings, to
form a fuller and more favourable judgment of his position. He seriously
concealed and beclouded his position, not only by the prominence given
to the sceptical element in his philosophy, but by the boldness with
which he maintained the sceptics' attitude. To himself we must assign a
large share of responsibility for the prevalence of the traditional view
which represented him as the enemy of religion. He cherished horror of
the 'Zealots'; they, with vastly greater reason, dreaded that ' candid
..indifference' which he exemplified and commended.
For evidence of his
attitude towards religious faith and reverence we have four conspicuous
portions of his works :—His Essay on Miracles ; his Natural History of
Religion ; his History of England, especially in the volume first
published; and his Dialogues on Religion, prepared with great care, and
by his own express wish, published only after his death.
The history of the Essay
on Miracles (constituting sec. x. of Inquiry Concerning Human
Understanding) is important. In My Own Life the reference to it is only
indirect. But in a letter to Principal Campbell, author of Dissertation
on Miracles, he writes :—' It may perhaps amuse you to learn the first
hint which suggested to me that argument which you have so strenuously
attacked. I was walking in the cloisters of the Jesuits' College of La
Fleche (France), a town in which I passed two years of my youth, and
engaged in a conversation with a Jesuit, of some parts and learning, who
was relating to me, and urging some nonsensical miracle performed lately
in their convent, when I was tempted to dispute against him; and as my
head was full of the topics of my Treatise of Human Nature, which I was
at that time composing, this argument immediately occurred to me, and I
thought it very much gravelled my companion ; but at last he observed to
me that it was impossible for that argument to have any solidity,
because it operated equally against the Gospel as the Catholic miracles,
which observation I thought proper to admit as a sufficient answer. I
believe you will allow that the freedom at least of this reasoning makes
it somewhat extraordinary to have been the produce of a convent of
Jesuits, though, perhaps, you may think the sophistry of it savours
plainly of the place of its birth' (Burton's Life, I., 5 7). The origin
of the suggestion was the superstitious spirit leading to unquestioning
acceptance of trifling wonders, not a deliberate study of the Gospel
miracles or even of the laws of evidence.
The argument involves a
return on individual experience as the basis of certainty, as that may
affect our reliance on the testimony of eye-witnesses. The enquiry
affects the value of our Christian faith as it relies on historic
evidence. The substance of this argument is thus stated by Hume—' Our
evidence for the truth of the Christian religion is less than the
evidence for the truth of our senses ; because even in the first authors
of our religion it was no greater; and it is evident it must diminish in
passing from them to their disciples; nor can anyone rest such
confidence in their testimony as in the immediate object of his senses.'
Yet, it is ' necessary to human life to rely on the testimony of men,'
though it must be granted thaV testimony may vary in value, sometimes
suggesting probability, at others supplying proof. If, however, the
reported event is ' extraordinary,' 1 the testimony admits of a
diminution, greater or less, in proportion as the fact is more or less
unusual.' When the event 'has seldom fallen under observation, here is a
contest of two opposite experiences, of which the one destroys the
other, as far as its force goes.' Suppose the reported event be '
miraculous,' and ' suppose also that the testimony, considered apart and
in itself, amounts to an entire proof, there is proof against proof, of
which the strongest must prevail.' ' A miracle is a violation of the
laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established
these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the
fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be
imagined.' ' Nothing is esteemed a miracle if it ever happen in the
common course of nature.' ' There must therefore be an uniform
experience against every miraculous event.' ' The plain consequence is
(and it is a general maxim worthy of our attention) that no testimony is
sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such a
kind that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it
endeavours to establish.'
Hume was peculiarly
liable to be attracted by an argument such as this. Its fascination was
great to a mind which had schooled itself in sceptical criticism. Such
an argument was to him like a nugget to a gold-digger—a thing to boast
of to all around. Hear his words :—' I flatter myself that I have
discovered an argument which, if just, will, with the wise and learned,
be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion, and
consequently will be useful as long as the world endures.'
In one aspect, the
argument is a freak of ingenuity; in another and secondary aspect, it is
a substantial contribution towards the modern view of uniform sequence
under natural law. But the philosopher delights in the freak— he is
fascinated by ' the freedom, at least, of the reasoning,' even if it
contain a considerable admixture of ' sophistry.' It is the misfortune
of the sceptic that, being engrossed with criticism of other people's
faith, he does not sufficiently criticise his own. Hume, powerful as he
was, could not escape the consequences of a long cultivated habit of
enlarged faith. A miracle cannot be directly vivified by us. Nothing is
more certain; but so it is with all facts of history, from the most
common to the most singular. Any argument on this account is not an
argument agrinst miracles, but against faith in the past. The historian
saws through the bench on which he sits.
In dealing with laws of
evidence, in insisting on the sifting of testimony, and on the special
difficulty of ascertaining what is reliable in the records concerning
events in distant ages, Hume's Essay is at once able and of practical
value ; but abstract reasoning to prove the impossibility of occurrences
we have never witnessed, or impossibility of evidence to prove that such
things have occurred, is vain on the conditions of experience itself.
But we must note the
range of Hume's reasoning. His Essay is not an argument against the
possibility of miracles. The thinker who insisted that certainty depends
on individual experience could not have constructed such an argument. He
had supplied the weapon to cut all such arguments in two. He is
naturally solicitous, therefore, that the rigid limits of his 'free
reasoning' should be observed. ' I beg the limitations here made may be
remarked when I say, that a miracle can never be proved so as to be the
foundation of a system of religion. For I own that, otherwise, there may
possibly be miracles.' Hume never committed himself to the proposition
that no miracle has happened; still less to the proposition that such an
event could not occur. The possibility of an event depends on power and
will, not on testimony, which can be only subsequent to the event.
What then of Hume's
denial of the possibility of evidence to warrant belief in a miracle?
Granting ' uniform experience' as to fixed laws in nature, what bearing
has this on evidence for miracles? By miracles we certainly mean events
distinct from the common occurrences explained by natural law. ' Nothing
is esteemed a miracle if it ever happen in the common course of nature.'
But if we admit that they are distinct events, Hume's definition needs
to be rectified, and his appeal to experience as to ' the common course
of nature' can be of no avail. What is meant by a miracle is not ' a
violation of the laws of nature,' nor is it ' a transgression of a law
of nature by a particular volition of the Deity,' .but 'a particular
volition of the Deity,' for other ends than those secured ' in the
common course of nature,' such as moral ends, which are not secured by
fixed laws of nature, but depend on man's reason and volition, as these
may be influenced by Revelation. But when ' violation of the laws of
nature' is withdrawn from the definition, the point of the argument is
lost, and a basis is found for Hume's admission that 'there may possibly
be miracles.' 'A particular volition of the Deity' for a moral end
implies the action of supernatural power.
As to the evidence for
such intervention in human history, our uniform experience of the common
course of nature can supply nothing of testimony and no ground for
criticism. To represent human experience as witnessing to ' the common
course of nature' is sound science and is good philosophy, but to say
that human experience has borne witness to nothing more is to beg the
question in dispute, and to suggest that moral government has no place
in the history of the universe. Granting that ' firm and unalterable
experience has established these laws,' such experience can bear no
testimony as to possibilities or impossibilities beyond.
Hume's attempt here to
lift religion out of the sphere of reason proved a failure. It was,
indeed, at variance with his deeper instinct. The whole discussion as to
proof and probability, keenly sustained on both sides, witnesses to the
impossibility of religion being limited to faith. Hume's purpose, honest
and earnest, to put ' an
everlasting check to all
kinds of superstitious delusion,' | was one which could not have been
served even by j making good the position that the unbroken testimony of
common experience makes evidence for a miracle impossible. To separate
faith from understanding is to/ open wide the door to superstition. It
may be described/ in his own language as a vain endeavour after '
subduing the rebellious reason by the belief of the most unintelligible
sophisms' (Natural History of Religion, sec. x.). But his contention is
interpreted aright only as we acknowledge his avowal that ' there may
possibly be miracles,' while he at the same time holds that these cannot
afford testimony for ' a system " of religion.' The spirit of his
argument is shewn in his own estimate of its worth. ' I am the better
pleased with the method of reasoning here delivered, as I think it may
serve to confound those dangerous friends, or disguised enemies to the
Christian religion, wh6 have undertaken to defend it by the principles
af human reason. Our most holy religion is founded on Faith, not on
Reason of miracles.' This Essay shews insight as to the uniformity of
nature in considerable advance of his time, but it shews for him a
singular failure in the exercise of his critical power. In passing to
the Natural History of Religion, which first appeared in 1777, it
becomes apparent how much Hume occupied himself with the problems of
religion. Here also we have fuller indication of his personal faith, and
at so many points as to remove all uncertainty as to his attitude. 'The
whole frame of nature bespeaks an Intelligent Author, and no rational
enquirer can, after serious reflection, suspend his belief a moment with
regard to the primary principles of a genuine Theism and Religion'
(Intro.).
This avowal at the
outset, recognising that religion has 'its foundation in reason,' is the
more important as his Treatise is occupied mainly with the
inconsistencies, superstitions, and immoralities appearing under the
name of religion. Here also Hume is the critic, exercising ' freedom of
reasoning ' in handling the beliefs and sacred rites of ' popular
religions,' ' for the most part polytheistic.' He is content to go back
to the Christian era, where he finds the whole world given to idolatry.
Looking around on the varied aspects of popular religion, he proceeds to
consider how religious principles may be easily perverted by various
accidents and causes. His purpose in this work is to consider ' what
those principles are which give rise to the original belief, and what
those accidents and causes are which direct its operation.'
'The only point of
theology in which we shall find a consent of mankind almost universal is
that there is invisible intelligent power in the world ' (sec. iv.). '
Nevertheless, the doctrine of one Supreme Deity, the author of nature,
is very ancient, has spread itself over great and populous nations, and
among them has been embraced by all ranks and conditions of men' (sec.
vi.). We therefore admit that there are ' invincible reasons on which it
is undoubtedly founded.' ' But it is chiefly our present business to
consider the gross polytheism of the vulgar, and to trace all its
various appearances, in the principles of human nature, whence they are
derived' (sec. v.). In carrying through this enquiry he has much to say
as to the superstition and the fanaticism which have appeared in the
natural history of religion, and here he often indulges in the free
criticism which appeared in the History of England, and called forth the
adverse criticism of the friends of evangelical religion. But the
Treatise is a vigorous treatment of the subject, shewing extended
research, specially directed upon classical authors, discovering
prominent features in the mythology of the ancient Greeks and Romans,
while including frequent references to the religious rites prevailing
among uncivilised tribes in all ages. In all this he deals carefully
with a vast mass of evidence essential to the discussion. We cannot
attempt even a summary of the extended investigation. It includes much
that is of the utmost value as to the history of the unfolding of
religious ideas and the institution and continuance of religious rites.
With all this outcome of research under review, he remarks that ' there
is not wanting a sufficient stock of religious zeal and faith among
mankind.' ' Look out for a people entirely destitute of religion: if you
find them at all, be assured that they are but few degrees removed from
brutes.'/ But corruptions naturally appear in the fancies, traditions,
and religious observances of men. ' Men have a natural tendency to rise
from idolatry to theism, and to sink again from theism into idolatry.'
'The corruptions of the best things give rise to the worst.' On the
other hand, theism is sustained by the reflection of the most
thoughtful. ' 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 '
(sec. xi.). Our speculative thought as to the first cause—the supreme
intelligence —is of the first moment to the individual thinker and to
our race as a whole. 1 What a noble privilege it is of human reason to
attain the Knowledge of the Supreme Being, and from the visible works of
nature be enabled to infer so sublime a principle as its supreme
Creator' (sec. xv.). But when we ' examine the religious principles
which have, in fact, prevailed,' many of them are to be discredited as '
sick men's dreams,' rather than respected as ' the serious, positive,
dogmatical asseverations of a being who dignifies himself with the name
of rational' (lb.). When we look at the vast problem as it stands before
us in history, 1 the whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable
mystery ' (3.). But faith remains unmoved. 1 The universal propensity to
believe in invisible intelligent power, if not an original instinct,
being at least a general attendant of human nature, may be considered as
a kind of mark or stamp which the divine workman has set upon his work;
and nothing surely can more dignify mankind than to be selected from all
parts of creation, and to bear the image or impression of the universal
Creator'.
These extracts shew how
clearly Hume maintained his conviction of the inherent value of
religion, even when tracing the inconsistencies which appear in its
history among the several nations and tribes of men. His mental
characteristics, intellectual and emotional, induced him to treat
scornfully of these inconsistencies, as if they were traces of
hypocrisy. This tendency appeared so offensively in the first volume of
his History of England as to subject him to severe criticism. He owned
its force, and modified several passages. Burton gives besides a paper
designed for a preface to his second volume, which was afterwards
modified and transferred to the position of a note. The opening
sentences of this Preface are of special interest here. ' It ought to be
no matter of offence that in this volume, as well as in the foregoing,
the mischiefs which arise from the abuses of religion are so often
mentioned, while so little in comparison is said of the salutary
consequences which result from true and genuine piety. The proper office
of religion is to reform men's lives, to purify their hearts, to enforce
all moral duties, and to secure obedience to the laws and civil
magistrate. While it pursues these useful purposes its operations,
though infinitely valuable, are secret and silent, and seldom come under
the cognisance of history' (Burton, II., 11).
From the Natural History
of Religion Hume passed on to the study of the rational basis of Natural
Theology, which he prosecuted in the critical spirit characteristic of
him. For the long period of twenty-five years the subject was kept
before him. When the results appeared after his death the publication
was a small volume of 152 pages. It is a work of great value, presenting
a searching scrutiny of the conditions under which we seek to think out
the relations of the universe to the invisible intelligence, the first
cause. The volume bears evidence of care in thought j and expression,
and anxious revision. It assigns to critical and sceptical thought its
utmost scope, and alongside of this presents ' the invincible reasons'
on which natural i; theology is founded. To the reader who dips into it,
1 turning its pages with a light hand, it will seem in its main contents
a sceptical book; to the critical student . it will appear a book of
great constructive worth, while it hides nothing of the difficulties of
our speculative thought.
The history of the
manuscript volume is of exceptional interest. It is clear from a letter
to Elliot, written from Ninewells, dated March ro, 1751, that the first
draft was written then, and was submitted for Elliot's criticism. Hume's
death occurred in 1776, and the Dialogues were not published till fully
two years after that event. The manuscript in possession of the Royal
Society of Edinburgh shews many emendations and corrections, making it
certain that the author worked over those pages with anxious solicitude,
and that in its published form we have the statement of his matured
thought, as well as the results of his best literary effort. From his
literary friends he sought suggestions in the freest spirit; and we know
that Elliot, Adam Smith, Blair, and others were intimately acquainted
with the contents. So early as the date named, Elliot had ' a sample '
of the Dialogue, in which Philo is the Sceptic, Cleanthes the
Philosophic believer, Demea the rigidly orthodox or quiescent believer,
who distrusts speculation. To Elliot he says,—' 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'
(Burton, I., 33r). At the same time he tells how, before he was twenty,
' doubts stole in upon him,' involving him in a perpetual struggle of a
restless imagination against inclination, perhaps against reason.' The
Dialogues present his effort to clear the way through inevitable doubts.
His own estimate of the result he indicates in this letter to
Elliot,—'The instances I have chosen for Cleanthes are, I hope,
tolerably happy, and the confusion in which I represent the sceptic
seems natural'
As the close of life
approached, Hume felt great solicitude about the publication of these
Dialogues. This feeling was increased by the desire expressed by some of
his most intimate literary friends that he should withhold the book. He
was willing that it should not be published till after his death, but he
took pains to secure that it should appear 1 within two years'
thereafter. The delay indicated his aversion to encounter the storm
likely to be raised by their appearance; his fixed determination that it
should appear within a defined period testifies to his conviction that
an important service was to be rendered to the cause of religion by
unreserved critical handling of the difficulties which beset our
attempts to apply the Theistic conception in the midst of finite
relations.
On the 4th of January
1776, he executed a settlement of his estate, leaving his money to his
brother, sister, and younger relatives, £200 to D'Alembert; the same to
Adam Ferguson, and the same to Adam Smith, under special proviso. ' To
my friend Dr Adam Smith, late Professor of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow,
I leave all my manuscripts without exception, desiring him to publish my
Dialogues on Natural Religion which are comprehended in this present
bequest. ... I even leave him full power over all my papers, except the
Dialogues above mentioned ; and though I can trust to that intimate and
sincere friendship which has ever subsisted between us for his faithful
execution of this part of my Will, yet, as a small recompense of his
pain in correcting and publishing this work, I leave him two hundred
pounds, to be paid immediately after the publication of it' (Burton,
II., 490).
Hume explained to Adam
Smith his desire that he should superintend the publication of the
Dialogues. Smith declined the responsibility, being averse to the
publication, as likely to increase the popular clamour against him. On
this, Hume writes to his friend on 3rd May 1776, three months before his
death:—* My dear Friend, ... I own that your scruples have a specious
appearance. But my opinion is, that if upon my death you determine never
to publish these papers, you should leave them, sealed up, with my
brother and family, with some inscription that you reserve to yourself
the power of reclaiming them whenever you think proper. If I live a few
years longer, I shall publish them myself' (Burton, II., 492). In an
accompanying letter Hume adds—'I am content to leave it entirely to your
discretion at what time you will publish that piece, or whether you will
publish it at all.'
Afterwards he added a
codicil, retracting the previous provision, and substituting the
following:—' I leave my manuscripts to the care of Mr William Strahan of
London, Member of Parliament, trusting to the friendship that has long
subsisted between us for his careful and faithful execution of my
intentions. I desire that my Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion may
be printed and published any time within two years after my death.'
Still later, it is
added—' I do ordain that if my Dialogues,1 from whatever cause, be not
published within two years and a half of my death, as also the account
of my life, the property shall return to my nephew, David, whose duty in
publishing them, as the last request of his uncle, must be approved of
by all the world ' (Burton, II., 494).
Strahan also declined the
responsibility, and the Dialogues were eventually published by the
author's nephew, David, in 1779, and without name of publisher or
printer. Fortunately for the literature of our country, the author
persisted in his determination. Now that the prejudices against him have
in considerable measure passed away, we can admit that his perplexities
may be helpful to us who follow. Faith succeeds doubt, while preparing
the way for better thought. A true service is rendered in the history of
intellectual and religious development when the common difficulties of
our position in the universe are stated with clearness and force.
Pioneers, after enduring untold hardships, may have the gratitude of the
people. On the voyage of life there is gain in sounding all depths.
In the title of his work
Hume uses the term ' Religion ' rather than 'Theology.' This usage
applies the same term to the practical experience and the speculative
exercise. Some confusion is apt to arise in this way, for it is admitted
that religion, as a characteristic of human life, may flourish apart
from direct and intimate concern with the perplexities of thought, from
which theology cannot escape.
Hume's reasons for
adopting the form of dialogue have obvious force in view of the nature
of the subject and the end he sought. His purpose was to present in
their utmost strength the difficulties encountered in thinking of the
relations of God to the universe, and to shew religious faith at its
best in the sphere of intelligence. The certainty of the Divine
existence being admitted, the object is to discuss ' what obscure
questions occur concerning the nature of that Divine being, his
attributes, his decrees, and his plan of providence ' (p. 3).
For understanding of the
discussion it is needful to keep in view the attitude and special bias
of the speakers. Philo is the pronounced sceptic who dwells on the
weakness and blindness of our intelligence, and delights in doubts as if
they constituted the current coin of the realm. Cleanthes is the
philosophic thinker, ready to examine every doubt presented, and relying
on regulated methodical thought for attainment of a vision of truth in
harmony with our fundamental faith in the Divine existence and
government. Demea is the quiet believer in God and his goodness, content
to trust, willing to treat obscure questions of speculative thought as
things too high for us belonging to an unknown territory into which the
ordinary believer does not travel. Philo and Demea are at the opposite
extremes, but occasionally in close agreement, because of their
readiness to think lightly of human intelligence. Cleanthes is the
philosophic thinker, deliberate, patient, and strong, ' the hero of the
Dialogue.' ' The remarkable contrast in their characters ' gives
interest to the discussion, and makes it possible for the author to give
a breadth of representation of the varied tendencies and habits of
thought subsisting in society.
Part I
Demea. Natural theology
being the most abstruse of all sciences, needs a mind enriched with all
the other sciences, and may be postponed while the opening intelligence
is ' seasoned with early piety.'
Philo. To season the mind
thus is reasonable as a defence against an irreligious spirit, but the
danger is that of' inspiring pride and self sufficiency' to guard
against which evils we must ' become thoroughly sensible of the
weakness, blindness, and narrow limits of human reason.' Having such
poor intelligence, ' with what assurance can we decide concerning the
origin of worlds, or trace their history from eternity to eternity ? '
Cleanthes. ' You propose
then to erect religious faith or philosophical scepticism.' But this is
a foundation weaker than reason, and which the common intelligence, weak
as it is, readily rejects, because of its obvious inconsistency; for
'though a man, in a flush of humour, may entirely renounce all belief
and opinion, it is impossible for him to persevere in it, or make it
appear in his conduct for a few hours.'
Ph. ' However sceptical
anyone may be, I own he must act and live, and converse like other men;
and for this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason than the
absolute necessity he lies under of so doing.' But there is a
fascination in speculative thought; ' everyone, even in common life, is
constrained to have more or less of this philosophy,' ' and what we call
philosophy is nothing but a more regular and methodical operation of the
same kind.' But ' when we look beyond human affairs,' and carry our
speculations forward to consider 'the powers of operations of one
universal Spirit,' ' we have here got beyond the reach of our
faculties,' 'and are entirely guided by a kind of instinct or necessity
in employing them.'
CI. But 'your doctrine
and practice are as much at variance in the most abstruse points of
theory as in the conduct of common life.' 'There is, indeed, a kind of
brutish and ignorant scepticism' which ' is fatal to knowledge, not to
religion.' ' But the refined and philosophic sceptics fall into an
inconsistence of an opposite nature. They push their researches into the
most abstruse corners of science, and their assent attends them in every
step, proportioned to the evidence with which they meet.'
Ph. Taking together ' the
history of the religious and the irreligious scepticism,' 'it appears to
me that there are strong symptoms of priestcraft in the progress of this
affair.' These reverend gentlemen are ' sceptics in one age, dogmatists
in another,' as ' best suits their purpose.'
CI. ' We need not have
recourse to priestcraft' to account for the history of events. ' Nothing
can afford a stronger presumption that any set of principles are true,
than to observe that they tend to the confirmation of true religion, and
serve to confound the free-thinkers.'
Such in outline is the
opening Dialogue. Interest concentrates on the antagonistic reasoning of
the Sceptic and the Philosopher. To their several parts we shall
restrict this summary.
Part II.—Does limited
knowledge involve uncertainty in Analogies?
Ph. 'Where reasonable men
treat these subjects, the question can never be concerning the being,
but only the nature of the Deity.' The former truth is unquestionable
and self evident. ' But our ideas reach no further than our experience;
and we have no experience of Divine attributes and operations.'
CI. ' The curious
adapting of means to ends throughout all nature resembles exactly,
though it much exceeds, the productions of human contrivance, of human
design, thought, wisdom, and intelligence.'
Ph. ' Wherever you depart
in the least from the similarity of the cases, you diminish
proportionably the evidence ; and may at last bring it to a very weak
analogy, which is confessedly liable to error and uncertainty.'
CI. ' Is the whole
adjustment of means to ends in a house and in the universe so slight a
resemblance ? The economy of final causes ? The order, proportion, and
arrangement of every part ? '
Ph. ' I must allow that
this fairly represents the argument ' from observation and experience.
But ' experience alone can point out the true cause of any phenomenon.'
' Order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final causes is no proof of
design, except in so far as it has been experienced to proceed from that
principle.' But I am 'scandalised with this resemblance which is
asserted between the Deity and human creatures, which I conceive implies
a degradation of the Supreme Being.' • I prefer to agree with the
orthodox in defending what is justly called ' the adorable
mysteriousness of the Divine Nature.' ' Thought, design, intelligence,
such as we discover in men and other animals is no more than one of the
springs and principles of the universe, as well as heat or cold,
attraction or repulsion.' ' Why select so minute, so weak, so bounded a
principle as the reason and design of animals ? What peculiar privilege
has this little agitation of the brain which we call thought, that we
must thus make it the model of the whole universe.'
CI. Let me suggest that
you do not ' abuse terms.'
We ' distinguish reason
from experience, even where the question relates only to matter of fact
and existence.' ' To prove by experience the origin of the universe from
mind is not more contrary to common speech than to prove the motion of
the earth from the same principle.'
Ph. In the 'cautious
procedure' of observational science is to be found the condemnation of
rash speculation in Natural Theology. 'The subject in which you are
engaged exceeds all human reason and enquiry.' ' Have you ever seen
Nature in any such situation as resembles the first arrangement of the
elements ?'
Part III.—Conditions of
reasoning from Experience to that which transcends it.
CI. ' It is by no means
necessary that Theists should prove the similarity of the works of
Nature to those of art, because this similarity is self-evident and
undeniable.' 'Suppose that there is a natural, universal, invariable
language, common to every individual of human race, and that books are
natural productions, which perpetuate themselves in the same manner with
animals and vegetables. Suppose that you enter into your library, thus
peopled by natural volumes, containing the most refined reason and most
exquisite beauty, could you possibly open one of them and doubt that its
original cause bore the strongest analogy to mind and intelligence ?' '
Any objection which you start by carrying me back to so unusual and
extraordinary a scene as the first formation of worlds, the same
objection has place on the supposition of our vegetating library.' 'To
exclude all argument or reasoning of every kind is either affectation or
madness.'
Ph. 'Your instance drawn
from books and language, being familiar, has, I confess, so much more
force on that account; but is there not some danger too in this very
circumstance ?' ' When I read a volume, I enter into the mind and
intention of the author; I become him, in a manner, for the instant. . .
. But so near an approach we never surely can make to the Deity. His
ways are not our ways. His attributes are perfect, but incomprehensible.
And this volume of Nature contains a great and inexplicable riddle, more
than any intelligible discourse or reasoning.' ' Our thought is
fluctuating, uncertain, fleeting, successive, and compounded; and were
we to remove these circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence,
and it would, in such a case, be an abuse of terms to apply to it the
name of thought or reason. At least, if it appear more pious and
respectful (as it really is) still to retain these terms when we mention
the Supreme Being, we ought to acknowledge that their meaning in that
case is totally incomprehensible ; and that the infirmities of our
nature do not permit us to reach any ideas which in the least correspond
to the ineffable sublimity of the Divine attributes.'
Part IV.—Can phases of
the human mind be attributed to the Divine Intelligence?
CI. 'The Deity, I can
readily allow, possesses many powers and attributes, of which we can
have no comprehension. But if our ideas, so far as they go, be not just
and adequate, I know not what there is in this subject worth insisting
on.'1 . . . 'Though it be allowed that the Deity possesses attributes of
which we have no comprehension, yet ought we never to ascribe to Him any
attributes which are absolutely incompatible with that intelligent
nature essential to Him.'
Ph. ' I shall endeavour
to shew you the inconveniences of that Anthropomorphism (Theology
founded on human characteristics) 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.' Suppose we judge of the matter
by Reason :— ' 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.' We are still obliged
to mount higher in order to find the cause of this cause, if we take the
world of ideas to be the cause of the world of objects. Suppose we judge
of the matter by Experience ;—' How shall we satisfy ourselves
concerning the cause of the ideal world into which you trace the
material ?' 1 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 nature, is really
to talk without any precise meaning.' 1 No satisfaction can ever be
attained by these speculations, which so far exceed the narrow bounds of
human understanding.'
CI. ' The order and
arrangement of Nature, the curious adjustment of final causes, the plain
use and intention oi every part and organ; all these bespeak in the
clearest language an intellectual cause or author.' ' I have found a
Deity, and here I stop my enquiry. Let those go further who are wiser or
more enterprising.'
Ph. ' I pretend to be
neither, and for that very reason I should never perhaps have attempted
to go so far, especially when I am sensible that I must at last be
contented to sit down with the same answer.'
Part V.—' Like effects
prove like causes.'—How far is the maxim applicable?
Ph. ' Please to take a
new survey of your principles. Like effects prove like causes. This is
the experimental argument; and this, you say too, is the sole
theological argument. Now it is certain that the liker the effects are
which are seen, and the liker the causes which are inferred, the
stronger is the argument. Every departure on either side diminishes the
probability, and renders the experiment less conclusive.' Now, ' by this
method of reasoning you renounce all claim to infinity in any of the
attributes of the Deity,' and there is left no reason 'for ascribing
perfection to the Deity.' On your hypothesis 'a man is able, perhaps, to
assert or conjecture that the Universe, sometime, arose from something
like design; but beyond that position he cannot ascertain one single
circumstance.'
CI. ' These suppositions
I absolutely disown: they strike me, however, with no horror. On the
contrary they give me pleasure, when I see that, by the utmost
indulgence of your imagination, you never get rid of the hypothesis of
design in the Universe, but are obliged at every turn to have recourse
to it. To this concession I steadily adhere; and this I regard as a
sufficient foundation for religion.'
Part VI.—Can we reason
from the known to the unknown ?
Ph. ' There is another
principle' derived from experience, ' that where several known
circumstances are observed to be similar, the unknown will also be
similar. Thus, if >ve see the limbs of a human body, we conclude that it
is also attended with a human head, though hid from us.' 'Now if we
survey the universe, so far as it falls under our knowledge, it bears a
great resemblance to an animal or organised body, and seems actuated
with a like principle of life and motion.' ' The world, therefore, I
infer, is an animal,' and, according to the hypothesis of the ancients,
' the Deity is the soul of the world actuating it, and actuated by it.'
' If our limited analogy could ever with any propriety be extended to
the whole of Nature, the inference seems juster in favour of the ancient
than the modern theory.'
CI. ' This theory, I own,
has never before occurred to me, though a pretty natural one, and I
cannot readily upon so short an examination and reflection deliver any
opinion with regard to it. It seems to me the analogy is defective in
many circumstances the most material—no organs of sense, no seat of
thought or reason, no one precise origin of motion and action.' Besides,
' human society is in continual revolution between ignorance and
knowledge, liberty and slavery, riches and poverty, so that it is
impossible for us, from our limited experience, to foretell with
assurance what events may or may not be expected.'
Ph. ' It is observable
that all the changes and corruptions of which we have ever had
experience are but passages from one state of order to another, nor can
matter ever rest in total deformity and confusion. What we see in the
parts, we may infer in the whole; at least that is the method of
reasoning on which you rest your whole theory. And were I obliged to
defend any particular system of this nature (which I never willingly
should do) I esteem none more plausible than that which ascribes an
eternal inherent principle of order in the world, though attended with
great and continual revolutions and alterations. This at once solves all
difficulties, and if the solution, by being so general, is not entirely
complete and satisfactory, it is, at least, a theory that we must sooner
or later have recourse to, whatever system we embrace.'
Part VII.—Shall we think
of the Universe as Organism or as Mechanism?
Ph. ' If the Universe
bears a greater likeness to animal bodies and to vegetables than to the
works of human art, its origin ought rather to be ascribed to generation
or vegetation than to reason or design.' If we must rely on experience
alone, this seems a legitimate hypothesis, but 1 we have no data to
establish any system of cosmogony. Our experience, so imperfect in
itself, and so limited both in extent and duration, can afford us no
probable conjecture concerning the whole of things.' And organism 'bears
stronger resemblance to the world than does any artificial machine.' We
may refer to reason, instinct, generation, or vegetation, but ' the
principles themselves and their manner of operation are totally
unknown.'
CI. 'I must confess,
Philo, that the task which you have undertaken of raising doubts and
objections suits you best, and seems in a manner natural and unavoidable
to you. So great is your fertility of invention that I am not ashamed to
acknowledge myself unable on a sudden to solve regularly such
out-of-the-way difficulties as you incessantly start upon me, though I
clearly see in general their fallacy and error. And I question not but
you are yourself in the same case, and have not the solution so ready as
the objection, while you must be sensible that common sense and reason
are entirely against you.'
Part VIII.—How far our
difficulties arise from the transcendent greatness of the subject.
Ph. Because ' a hundred
contradictory views may preserve a kind of imperfect analogy,' '
invention has full scope to exert itself.' ' Motion, in many instances,
from gravity, from elasticity, from electricity, begins in matter,
without any known voluntary agent, and to suppose always in these cases
an unknown voluntary agent is mere hypothesis.'
CI. But the hypothesis of
vegetation or involuntary development is exposed to insuperable
objections. ' No form, you say, can subsist unless it possess those
powers and organs requisite for its subsistence ; some new order or
economy must be tried, and so on without intermission, till at last some
order which can support and maintain itself is fallen upon. But
according to this hypothesis. whence arise the many conveniences and
advantages which,men and all animals possess? '
Ph. ' You may safely
infer that the hypothesis is so far incomplete and imperfect, which I
shall not scruple to allow. But can we ever hope to erect a system of
cosmogony that will be liable to no exceptions ?' It is this which gives
to scepticism the power it has. ' In all instances which we have ever
seen, ideas are copied from real objects.' ' You reverse this order, and
give thought the precedence.' ~
Part IX.—May we reason
from finite existence to a self-existent Being?
Demea. ' Had we not
better adhere to the simple and sublime argument a priori V It is
impossible for anything to produce itself; ' we must either go on in
tracing an infinite succession, without any ultimate cause at all, or
must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause that is necessarily
existent.'
CI. ' There is an evident
absurdity in pretending to demonstrate a matter of fact, or to prove it
by any arguments a priori.' ' There is no being whose existence is
demonstrable. I propose this argument as entirely decisive, and am
willing to rest the whole controversy upon it.' As to the existence of
the Deity, it is said that ' if we knew his whole essence or nature, we
should perceive it to be impossible for him not to exist. But it is
evident that this can never happen while our faculties remain the same
as at present.'
Ph. ' The argument a
priori has seldom been found very convincing, except to people of a
metaphysical head, who have accustomed themselves to abstract reasoning.
. . . Other people, even of good sense, and the best inclined to
religion, feel always some deficiency in such arguments, though they are
not perhaps able to explain distinctly where it lies.'
Part X.—The moral
argument.
Demea. ' It is my opinion
that each man feels, in a manner, the truth of religion within his own
breast, and from a consciousness of his imbecility and misery is led to
seek protection from that Being.'
Ph. ' I am indeed
persuaded that the best and, indeed, the only method of bringing
everyone to a due sense of religion is by just representations of the
misery and wickedness of men. ... In this point the learned are
perfectly agreed with the vulgar, and in all letters, sacred and
profane, the topic of human misery has been insisted on with the most
pathetic eloquence.' ' Disappointment, vexation, trouble, follow man's
activity and ambition.'
CI. ' I can observe
something like what you mention in some others, but I confess I feel
little or nothing of it myself, and hope that it is not so common as you
represent it.'
Ph. ' Is it possible,
after all these reflections, you can still assert the moral attributes
of the Deity, his justice, benevolence, mercy and rectitude,—to be of
the same nature with these virtues in human creatures? His power, we
allow, is infinite; whatever he wills is executed; but neither man nor
any other animal are happy; therefore he does not will their happiness.'
CI. ' If you can prove
mankind to be unhappy or corrupted, there is an end at once of all
religion. For to what purpose establish the natural attributes of the
Deity, while the moral are still doubtful and uncertain'.
Demea. 'Nothing can be
more surprising than to find a topic like this, concerning the
wickedness and misery of man, charged with no less than atheism and
profaneness.'
CI. ' These arbitrary
suppositions as to wickedness and misery can never be admitted.' ' The
only method of supporting Divine benevolence (and it is what I willingly
embrace) is to deny absolutely the misery and wickedness of man. Your
representations are exaggerated. . . . Health is more common than
sickness.'
Ph. ' You have put the
controversy upon a most dangerous issue, and are unawares introducing a
total scepticism into the most essential articles of natural and
revealed theology. What! no method of fixing a just foundation for
religion, unless we allow the happiness of human life.' ' By resting the
whole system of religion on such a point, which from its very nature
must for ever be uncertain, you tacitly confess that system is equally
uncertain.'
' It is your turn now to
tug the labouring oar, and to support your philosophical subtleties
against the dictates of plain reason and experience.'
Part XI.—The problem of
evil.
CI. ' If we abandon all
human analogy, I am afraid we abandon all religion, and retain no
conception of the great object of our adoration. If we preserve human
analogy, we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile any mixture of
evil in the universe with infinite attributes. But supposing the Author
of Nature to be finitely perfect, though far exceeding mankind, a
satisfactory account may then be given of natural and moral evil, and
every untoward phenomenon be explained and adjusted, a less evil may be
chosen, in order to avoid a greater. . . . Benevolence, regulated by
wisdom, and limited by necessity, may produce such a world as the
present.'
Ph. If a very limited
intelligence were assured that the universe, with which he was at the
moment unacquainted, was ' the production of a very good, wise, and
powerful being, however finite,' he could never fancy that the effect
could be so full of vice and misery and disorder as it appears in this
life. But such a limited intelligence must be sensible of his own
blindness and ignorance, and must allow that there may be many solutions
of those phenomena which will for ever escape his comprehension.
There seem to be four
circumstances on which depend all, or the greatest part of the ills that
molest sensible creatures, and it is not impossible but all these
circumstances may be necessary and unavoidable. First, ' pain, as well
as pleasure, is employed to excite all creatures to action.' Second, '
the conducting of the world by general laws.' Third, ' the great
frugality with which all powers and faculties are distributed.' Fourth,
'the inaccurate workmanship of all the springs and principles of the
great machine of nature.' It would be too presumptuous for creatures so
blind and ignorant as we ' to say that these circumstances are not
necessary.'
'Some ill must arise in
the various shocks of matter;' ' but this ill would be very rare, were
it not for the third circumstance.' ' Almost all the moral, as well as
natural evils of human life, arise from idleness.' 'In order to cure
most of the ills of human life,' I do not ask that man be endowed with
greater powers, physical or mental; but 'let him be endowed with a
greater propensity to industry and labour; a more vigorous spring and
activity of mind; a more constant bent to business and application,'
with ' a more vigorous spring and activity of mind,' ' the exact
execution of every office and duty' would 'immediately follow.'
Cleanthes has admitted
that our difficulties in dealing with this problem of evil arise from
the representation of the Deity as infinite in all his attributes. If we
take the opposite course, ' supposing the Author of nature to be
finitely perfect,' this old ' Manichasan system 1
occurs as a proper hypothesis to solve the difficulty; and no doubt in
some respects it is very specious, and has more probability than the
common hypothesis, by giving a plausible account of the strange mixture
of good and ill which appears in life. But if we consider on the other
hand the perfect uniformity and agreement of the parts of the universe,
we shall not discover in it any marks of the combat of a malevolent with
a benevolent being.' 'So long,' however, as there is one vice at all in
the universe it will very much puzzle you anthropomorphites—believers in
the likeness of Divine powers to human—how to account for it. You must
assign a cause for it, without having recourse to the first cause, yet
you must ' rest on that original principle which is the ultimate cause
of all things.'
Demea. ' Hold ! Hold ! I
joined in alliance with you, in order to prove the incomprehensible
nature of the Divine Being, and refute the principles of him who would
measure everything by a human rule and standard.'
CI. The total infirmity
of human reason, the absolute incomprehensibility of the Divine nature,
the great and universal misery, and still greater wickedness of men,
these are strange topics surely to be so fondly cherished.' But ' your
friend Philo from the beginning has been amusing himself at both our
expense.'
Part XII.—Results of the
discussion.
CI. 'Your spirit of
controversy, joined to your abhorrence of vulgar superstition, carries
you strange lengths when engaged in an argument; and there is nothing so
sacred or venerable, even in your own eyes, which you spare on that
occasion.'
Ph. ' I must confess that
I am less cautious on the subject of Natural Religion than on any other,
both because I know that I can never on that head corrupt the principles
of any man of common sense, and because no one, I am confident, in whose
eyes I appear a man of common sense, will ever mistake my intentions. .
. . Notwithstanding the freedom of my conversation, and my love of
singular arguments, no one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on
his mind, or pays more profound adoration to the Divine Being, as he
discovers himself to reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and
artifice of Nature. ... All the sciences almost lead us insensibly to
acknowledge a first intelligent Author; and their authority is often so
much the greater, as they do not directly profess their intention.'
CI. ' One great advantage
of the principle of Theism is that it is the only system of cosmogony
which can be rendered intelligible and complete, and yet can throughout
preserve a strong analogy to what we every day see and experience in the
world.' ' Whoever attempts to weaken this theory,' can only ' by remote
and abstract views of things reach that suspense of judgment which is
here the utmost boundary of his wishes.'
Ph. ' So little do I
esteem this suspense of judgment in the present case to be possible,
that I am apt to suspect there enters somewhat of a dispute of words
into this controversy, more than is usually imagined. That the works of
Nature bear a great analogy to the productions of art is evident, . . .
but there are also considerable differences. ... As the works of Nature
have a much greater analogy to the effects of our art and contrivance,
than to those of our benevolence and justice, we have reason to infer
that the natural attributes of the Deity have a greater resemblance to
those of men than his moral have to human virtues. But what is the
consequence ? Nothing but this, that the moral qualities of man are more
defective in their kind than his natural abilities.' ' In proportion to
my veneration for true religion is my abhorrence of vulgar
superstitions.'
CI. ' Religion, however
corrupted, is still better than no religion at all.' ' The proper office
of religion is to regulate the heart of men, humanise their ^conduct,
infuse the spirit of temperance, order, and obedience; and as its
operation is silent, and only enforces the motives of morality and
justice, it is in danger of being overlooked, and confounded with these
other motives. When it distinguishes itself, and acts as a separate
principle over men, it has departed from its proper sphere, and has
become only a cover to faction and ambition.' |
