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Title: Christianity and Greek Philosophy
       or, the relation between spontaneous and reflective thought
       in Greece and the positive teaching of Christ and His
       Apostles

Author: Benjamin Franklin Cocker

Release Date: December 20, 2008 [EBook #27571]

Language: English

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CHRISTIANITY

AND

GREEK PHILOSOPHY;

OR, THE RELATION BETWEEN
SPONTANEOUS AND REFLECTIVE THOUGHT IN GREECE
AND THE POSITIVE TEACHING OF
CHRIST AND HIS APOSTLES.


BY B.F. COCKER, D.D.,

PROFESSOR OF MORAL AND MENTAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

"Plato made me know the true God, Jesus Christ showed me the way tohim."

                                                           ST. AUGUSTINE




NEW YORK: CARLTON & LANAHAN.
SAN FRANCISCO: E. THOMAS.
CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN.

1870.



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by HARPER &
BROTHERS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.




TO

D.D. WHEDON, D.D.,

MY EARLIEST LITERARY FRIEND, WHOSE VIGOROUS WRITINGS HAVE
STIMULATED MY INQUIRIES, WHOSE COUNSELS HAVE GUIDED
MY STUDIES, AND WHOSE KIND AND GENEROUS WORDS
HAVE ENCOURAGED ME TO PERSEVERANCE
AMID NUMEROUS DIFFICULTIES,
I DEDICATE THIS VOLUME AS A TOKEN OF MY MORE THAN ORDINARY AFFECTION

_THE AUTHOR_.




PREFACE.


In preparing the present volume, the writer has been actuated by a
conscientious desire to deepen and vivify our faith in the Christian
system of truth, by showing that it does not rest _solely_ on a special
class of facts, but upon all the facts of nature and humanity; that its
authority does not repose _alone_ on the peculiar and supernatural
events which transpired in Palestine, but also on the still broader
foundations of the ideas and laws of the reason, and the common wants
and instinctive yearnings of the human heart. It is his conviction that
the course and constitution of nature, the whole current of history, and
the entire development of human thought in the ages anterior to the
advent of the Redeemer centre in, and can only be interpreted by, the
purpose of redemption.

The method hitherto most prevalent, of treating the history of human
thought as a series of isolated, disconnected, and lawless movements,
without unity and purpose; and the practice of denouncing the religions
and philosophies of the ancient world as inventions of satanic mischief,
or as the capricious and wicked efforts of humanity to relegate itself
from the bonds of allegiance to the One Supreme Lord and Lawgiver, have,
in his judgment, been prejudicial to the interests of all truth, and
especially injurious to the cause of Christianity. They betray an utter
insensibility to the grand unities of nature and of thought, and a
strange forgetfulness of that universal Providence which comprehends all
nature and all history, and is yet so minute in its regards that it
numbers the hairs on every human head, and takes note of every sparrow's
fall, A juster method will lead us to regard the entire history of human
thought as a development towards a specific end, and the providence of
God as an all-embracing plan, which sweeps over all ages and all
nations, and which, in its final consummation, will, through Christ,
"gather together all things in one, both things which are in heaven and
things which are on earth."

The central and unifying thought of this volume is _that the necessary
ideas and laws of the reason, and the native instincts of the human
heart, originally implanted by God, are the primal and germinal forces
of history; and that these have been developed under conditions which
were first ordained, and have been continually supervised by the
providence of God_. God is the Father of humanity, and he is also the
Guide and Educator of our race. As "the offspring of God," humanity is
not a bare, indeterminate potentiality, but a living energy, an active
reason, having definite qualities, and inheriting fundamental principles
and necessary ideas which constitute it "the image and likeness of God."
And though it has suffered a moral lapse, and, in the exercise of its
freedom, has become alienated from the life of God, yet God has never
abandoned the human race. He still "magnifies man, and sets his heart
upon him." "He visits him every morning, and tries him every moment."
"The inspiration of the Almighty still gives him understanding." The
illumination of the Divine Logos still "teacheth man knowledge." The
Spirit of God still comes near to and touches with strong emotion every
human heart. "God has never left himself without a witness" in any
nation, or in any age. The providence of God has always guided the
dispersions and migrations of the families of the earth, and presided
over and directed the education of the race. "He has foreordained the
times of each nation's existence, and fixed the geographical boundaries
of their habitations, _in order that they should seek the Lord_, and
feel after and find Him who is not far from any one of us." The
religions of the ancient world were the painful effort of the human
spirit to return to its true rest and centre--the struggle to "find Him"
who is so intimately near to every human heart, and who has never ceased
to be the want of the human race. The philosophies of the ancient world
were the earnest effort of human reason to reconcile the finite and the
infinite, the human and the Divine, the subject and God. An overruling
Providence, which makes even the wrath of man to praise Him, took up all
these sincere, though often mistaken, efforts into his own plan, and
made them sub-serve the purpose of redemption. They aided in developing
among the nations "the desire of salvation," and in preparing the world
for the advent of the Son of God. The entire course and history of
Divine providence, in every nation, and in every age, has been directed
towards the one grand purpose of "reconciling all things to Himself."
Christianity, as a comprehensive scheme of reconciliation, embracing
"all things," can not, therefore, be properly studied apart from the
ages of earnest thought, of profound inquiry, and of intense religious
feeling which preceded it. To despise the religions of the ancient
world, to sneer at the efforts and achievements of the old philosophers,
or even to cut them off in thought from all relation to the plans and
movements of that Providence which has cared for, and watched over, and
pitied, and guided all the nations of the earth, is to refuse to
comprehend Christianity itself.

The author is not indifferent to the possibility that his purpose may be
misconceived. The effort may be regarded by many conscientious and
esteemed theologians with suspicion and mistrust. They can not easily
emancipate themselves from the ancient prejudice against speculative
thought. Philosophy has always been regarded by them as antagonistic to
Christian faith. They are inspired by a commendable zeal for the honor
of dogmatic theology. Every essay towards a profounder conviction, a
broader faith in the unity of all truth, is branded with the opprobrious
name of "rationalism." Let us not be terrified by a harmless word.
Surely religion and right reason must be found in harmony. The author
believes, with Bacon, that "the foundation of all religion is right
reason." The abnegation of reason is not the evidence of faith, but the
confession of despair. Sustained by these convictions, he submits this
humble contribution to theological science to the thoughtful
consideration of all lovers of Truth, and of Christ, the fountain of
Truth. He can sincerely ask upon it the blessing of Him in whose fear it
has been written, and whose cause it is the purpose of his life to
serve.

The second series, on "Christianity and Modern Thought," is in an
advanced state of preparation for the press.

NOTE.--It has been the aim of the writer, as far as the nature of the
subject would permit, to adapt this work to general readers. The
references to classic authors are, therefore, in all cases made to
accessible English translations (in Bohn's Classical Library); such
changes, however, have been made in the rendering as shall present the
doctrine of the writers in a clearer and more forcible manner. For
valuable services rendered in this department of the work, by Martin L.
D'Ooge, Μ. Α., Acting Professor of Greek Language and Literature in the
University of Michigan, the author would here express his grateful
acknowledgment.




CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.


     CHAPTER I.
     ATHENS, AND THE MEN OF ATHENS.

     CHAPTER II.
     THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION.

     CHAPTER III.
     THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS.

     CHAPTER IV.
     THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS: ITS MYTHOLOGICAL AND SYMBOLICAL
     ASPECTS.

     CHAPTER V.
     THE UNKNOWN GOD.

     CHAPTER VI.
     THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).
       IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON?

     CHAPTER VII.
     THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).
       IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON? (_continued_).

     CHAPTER VIII.
     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS.
       PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOL.
     _Sensational_: THALES--ANAXIMENES--HERACLITUS--ANAXIMANDER
     LEOCIPPUS--DEMOCRITUS.

     CHAPTER IX.
     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).
       PRE-SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_)
     _Idealist_: Pythagoras--Xenophanes--Parmenides--Zeno. _Natural
     Realist_: Anaxagoras.
       THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL.
       Socrates.

     CHAPTER X
     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).
       THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).
       Plato.

     CHAPTER XI.
     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).
       THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).
       Plato.

     CHAPTER XII.

     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).
       THE SOCRATIC SCHOOL (_continued_).
       Aristotle.

     CHAPTER XIII.
     THE PHILOSOPHERS OF ATHENS (_continued_).
       POST-SOCRATIC SCHOOL.
       Epicurus and Zeno.

     CHAPTER XIV.
     The Propædeutic Office of Greek Philosophy.

     CHAPTER XV.
     The Propædeutic Office of Greek Philosophy (_continued_).




      "_Ye men of Athens_, all things which I behold bear witness
      to your carefulness in religion; for, as I passed through
      your city and beheld the objects of your worship, I found
      amongst them an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN
      GOD; whom, therefore, ye worship, though ye know; Him not,
      Him declare I unto you. God who made the world and all
      things therein, seeing He is Lord of heaven and earth,
      dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is He
      served by the hands of men, as though he needed any thing;
      for He giveth unto all life, and breath, and all things. And
      He made of one blood all the nations of mankind to dwell
      upon the face of the whole earth; and ordained to each the
      appointed seasons of their existence, and the bounds of
      their habitation, that they should seek God, if haply they
      might feel after Him and find Him, though he be not far from
      every one of us: for in Him we live, and move, and have our
      being; as certain of your own poets have said, _For we are
      also His offspring_. Forasmuch, then, as we are the
      offspring of God, we ought not to think that the Godhead is
      like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by the art and
      device of man. Howbeit, those past times of ignorance God
      hath overlooked; but now He commandeth all men everywhere to
      repent, because He hath appointed a day wherein He will
      judge the world in righteousness by that Man whom He hath
      ordained; whereof He hath given assurance unto all, in that
      He hath raised Him from the dead."--Acts xvii. 22-31.




CHRISTIANITY
AND
GREEK PHILOSOPHY




CHAPTER I.

ATHENS, AND THE MEN OF ATHENS.


      "Is it not worth while, for the sake of the history of men
      and nations, to study the surface of the globe in its
      relation to the inhabitants thereof?"--Goethe.

There is no event recorded in the annals of the early church so replete
with interest to the Christian student, or which takes so deep a hold on
the imagination, and the sympathies of him who is at all familiar with
the history of Ancient Greece, as the one recited above. Here we see the
Apostle Paul standing on the Areopagus at Athens, surrounded by the
temples, statues, and altars, which Grecian art had consecrated to Pagan
worship, and proclaiming to the inquisitive Athenians, "the strangers"
who had come to Athens for business or for pleasure, and the
philosophers and students of the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, and the
Garden, "_the unknown God_."

Whether we dwell in our imagination on the artistic grandeur and
imposing magnificence of the city in which Paul found himself a solitary
stranger, or recall the illustrious names which by their achievements in
arts and philosophy have shed around the city of Athens an immortal
glory,--or whether, fixing our attention on the lonely wanderer amid the
porticoes, and groves, and temples of this classic city, we attempt to
conceive the emotion which stirred his heart as he beheld it "wholly
given to idolatry;" or whether we contrast the sublime, majestic theism
proclaimed by Paul with the degrading polytheism and degenerate
philosophy which then prevailed in Athens, or consider the prudent and
sagacious manner in which the apostle conducts his argument in view of
the religious opinions and prejudices of his audience, we can not but
feel that this event is fraught with lessons of instruction to the
Church in every age.

That the objects which met the eye of Paul on every hand, and the
opinions he heard everywhere expressed in Athens, must have exerted a
powerful influence upon the current of his thoughts, as well as upon the
state of his emotions, is a legitimate and natural presumption. Not only
was "his spirit stirred within him"--his heart deeply moved and agitated
when he saw the city wholly given to idolatry--but his thoughtful,
philosophic mind would be engaged in pondering those deeply interesting
questions which underlie the whole system of Grecian polytheism. The
circumstances of the hour would, no doubt, in a large degree determine
the line of argument, the form of his discourse, and the peculiarities
of his phraseology. The more vividly, therefore, we can represent the
scenes and realize the surrounding incidents; the more thoroughly we can
enter into sympathy with the modes of thought and feeling peculiar to
the Athenians; the more perfectly we can comprehend the spirit and
tendency of the age; the more immediate our acquaintance with the
religious opinions and philosophical ideas then prevalent in Athens, the
more perfect will be our comprehension of the apostle's argument, the
deeper our interest in his theme. Some preliminary notices of Athens and
"the Men of Athens" will therefore be appropriate as introductory to a
series of discourses on Paul's sermon on Mars' Hill.

The peculiar connection that subsists between Geography and History,
between a people and the country they inhabit, will justify the
extension of our survey beyond the mere topography of Athens. The people
of the entire province of Attica were called Athenians (_Αθηναίοι_) in
their relation to the state, and Attics _(Αττικοί_) in regard to their
manners, customs, and dialect.[1] The climate and the scenery, the forms
of contour and relief, the geographical position and relations of
Attica, and, indeed, of the whole peninsula of Greece, must be taken
into our account if we would form a comprehensive judgment of the
character of the Athenian people.

The soil on which a people dwell, the air they breathe, the mountains
and seas by which they are surrounded, the skies that overshadow
them,--all these exert a powerful influence on their pursuits, their
habits, their institutions, their sentiments, and their ideas. So that
could we clearly group, and fully grasp all the characteristics of a
region--its position, configuration, climate, scenery, and natural
products, we could, with tolerable accuracy, determine what are the
characteristics of the people who inhabit it. A comprehensive knowledge
of the physical geography of any country will therefore aid us
materially in elucidating the natural history, and, to some extent, the
moral history of its population. "History does not stand _outside_ of
nature, but in her very heart, so that the historian only grasps a
people's character with true precision when he keeps in full view its
geographical position, and the influences which its surroundings have
wrought upon it."[2]

[Footnote 1: Niebuhr's "Lectures on Ethnography and Geography," p. 91.]

[Footnote 2: Ritter's "Geographical Studies," p. 34.]

It is, however, of the utmost consequence the reader should understand
that there are two widely different methods of treating this deeply
interesting subject--methods which proceed on fundamentally opposite
views of man and of nature. One method is that pursued by Buckle in his
"History of Civilization in England." The tendency of his work is the
assertion of the supremacy of material conditions over the development
of human history, and indeed of every individual mind. Here man is
purely passive in the hands of nature. Exterior conditions are the
chief, if not the _only_ causes of man's intellectual and social
development. So that, such a climate and soil, such aspects of nature
and local circumstances being given, such a nation necessarily
follows.[3] The other method is that of Carl Ritter, Arnold Guyot, and
Cousin.[4] These take account of the freedom of the human will, and the
power of man to control and modify the forces of nature. They also take
account of the original constitution of man, and the primitive type of
nations; and they allow for results arising from the mutual conflict of
geographical conditions. And they, especially, recognize the agency of a
Divine Providence controlling those forces in nature by which the
configuration of the earth's surface is determined, and the distribution
of its oceans, continents, and islands is secured; and a providence,
also, directing the dispersions and migrations of nations--determining
the times of each nation's existence, and fixing the geographical bounds
of their habitation, all in view of the _moral_ history and spiritual
development of the race,--"that they may feel after, and find the living
God." The relation of man and nature is not, in their estimation, a
relation of cause and effect. It is a relation of adjustment, of
harmony, and of reciprocal action and reaction. "Man is not"--says
Cousin--"an effect, and nature the cause, but there is between man and
nature a manifest harmony of general laws."... "Man and nature are two
great effects which, coming from the same cause, bear the same
characteristics; so that the earth, and he who inhabits it, man and
nature, are in perfect harmony."[5] God has created both man and the
universe, and he has established between them a striking harmony. The
earth was made for man; not simply to supply his physical wants, but
also to minister to his intellectual and moral development. The earth is
not a mere dwelling-place of nations, but a school-house, in which God
himself is superintending the education of the race. Hence we must not
only study the _events_ of history in their chronological order, but we
must study the earth itself as the _theatre_ of history. A knowledge of
all the circumstances, both physical and moral, in the midst of which
events take place, is absolutely necessary to a right judgment of the
events themselves. And we can only elucidate properly the character of
the actors by a careful study of all their geographical and ethological
conditions.

[Footnote 3: See chap. ii. "History of Civilization."]

[Footnote 4: Ritter's "Geographical Studies;" Guyot's "Earth and Man;"
Cousin's "History of Philosophy," lec. vii., viii., ix.]

[Footnote 5: Lectures, vol. i. pp. 162, 169.]

It will be readily perceived that, in attempting to estimate the
influence which exterior conditions exert in the determination of
national character, we encounter peculiar difficulties. We can not in
these studies expect the precision and accuracy which is attained in the
mathematical, or the purely physical sciences. We possess no control
over the "materiel" of our inquiry; we have no power of placing it in
new conditions, and submitting it to the test of new experiments, as in
the physical sciences. National character is a _complex_ result--a
product of the action and reaction of primary and secondary causes. It
is a conjoint effect of the action of the primitive elements and laws
originally implanted in humanity by the Creator, of the free causality
and self-determining power of man, and of all the conditions, permanent
and accidental, within which the national life has been developed. And
in cases where _physical_ and _moral_ causes are blended, and
reciprocally conditioned and modified in their operation;--where primary
results undergo endless modifications from the influence of surrounding
circumstances, and the reaction of social and political
institutions;--and where each individual of the great aggregate wields a
causal power that obeys no specific law, and by his own inherent power
sets in motion new trains of causes which can not be reduced to
statistics, we grant that we are in possession of no instrument of exact
analysis by which the complex phenomena of national character may be
reduced to primitive elements. All that we can hope is, to ascertain, by
psychological analysis, what are the fundamental ideas and laws of
humanity; to grasp the exterior conditions which are, on all hands,
recognized as exerting a powerful influence upon national character; to
watch, under these lights, the manifestations of human nature on the
theatre of history, and then apply the principles of a sound historic
criticism to the recorded opinions of contemporaneous historians and
their immediate successors. In this manner we may expect, at least, to
approximate to a true judgment of history.

There are unquestionably fundamental powers and laws in human nature
which have their development in the course of history. There are certain
primitive ideas, imbedded in the constitution of each individual mind,
which are revealed in the universal consciousness of our race, under the
conditions of experience--the exterior conditions of physical nature and
human society. Such are the ideas of cause and substance; of unity and
infinity, which govern all the processes of discursive thought, and lead
us to the recognition of Being _in se_;--such the ideas of right, of
duty, of accountability, and of retribution, which regulate all the
conceptions we form of our relations to all other moral beings, and
constitute _morality_;--such the ideas of order, of proportion, and of
harmony, which preside in the realms of art, and constitute the
beau-ideal of _esthetics_;--such the ideas of God, the soul, and
immortality, which rule in the domains of _religion_, and determine man
a religious being. These constitute the identity of human nature under
all circumstances; these characterize humanity in all conditions.

Like permanent germs in vegetable life, always producing the same
species of plants; or like fundamental types in the animal kingdom,
securing the same homologous structures in all classes and orders; so
these fundamental ideas in human nature constitute its sameness and
unity, under all the varying conditions of life and society. The acorn
must produce an oak, and nothing else. The grain of wheat must always
produce its kind. The offspring of man must always bear his image, and
always exhibit the same fundamental characteristics, not only in his
corporeal nature, but also in his mental constitution.

But the germination of every seed depends on conditions _ab extra_, and
all germs are modified, in their development, by geographical and
climatal surroundings. The development of the acorn into a mature and
perfect oak greatly depends on the exterior conditions of soil, and
moisture, light, and heat. By these it may be rendered luxuriant in its
growth, or it may be stunted in its growth. It may barely exist under
one class of conditions, or it may perish under another. The Brassica
oleracea, in its native habitat on the shore of the sea, is a bitter
plant with wavy sea-green leaves; in the cultivated garden it is the
cauliflower. The single rose, under altered conditions, becomes a double
rose; and creepers rear their stalks and stand erect. Plants, which in a
cold climate are annuals, become perennial when transported to the
torrid zone.[6] And so human nature, fundamentally the same under all
circumstances, may be greatly modified, both physically and mentally, by
geographical, social, and political conditions. The corporeal nature of
man--his complexion, his physiognomy, his stature; the intellectual
nature of man--his religious, ethical, and esthetical ideas are all
modified by his surroundings. These modifications, of which all men
dwelling in the same geographical regions, and under the same social and
political institutions, partake, constitute the _individuality_ of
nations. Thus, whilst there is a fundamental basis of unity in the
corporeal and spiritual nature of man, the causes of diversity are to be
sought in the circumstances in which tribes and nations are placed in
the overruling providence of God.

[Footnote 6: See Carpenter's "Compar. Physiology," p. 625; Lyell's
"Principles of Geology," pp. 588, 589.]

The power which man exerts over material conditions, by virtue of his
intelligence and freedom, is also an important element which, in these
studies, we should not depreciate or ignore. We must accept, with all
its consequences, the dictum of universal consciousness that man is
_free_. He is not absolutely subject to, and moulded by nature. He has
the power to control the circumstances by which he is surrounded--to
originate new social and physical conditions--to determine his own
individual and responsible character--and he can wield a mighty
influence over the character of his fellow-men. Individual men, as
Lycurgus, Solon, Pericles, Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon have left the
impress of their own mind and character upon the political institutions
of nations, and, in indirect manner, upon the character of succeeding
generations of men. Homer, Plato, Cicero, Bacon, Kant, Locke, Newton,
Shakspeare, Milton have left a deep and permanent impression upon the
forms of thought and speech, the language and literature, the science
and philosophy of nations. And inasmuch as a nation is the aggregate of
individual beings endowed with spontaneity and freedom, we must grant
that exterior conditions are not omnipotent in the formation of national
character. Still the free causality of man is exercised within a narrow
field. "There is a strictly necessitative limitation drawing an
impassable boundary-line around the area of volitional freedom." The
human will "however subjectively free" is often "objectively unfree;"
thus a large "uniformity of volitions" is the natural consequence.[7]
The child born in the heart of China, whilst he may, in his personal
freedom, develop such traits of character as constitute his
individuality, must necessarily be conformed in his language, habits,
modes of thought, and religious sentiments to the spirit of his country
and age. We no more expect a development of Christian thought and
character in the centre of Africa, unvisited by Christian teaching, than
we expect to find the climate and vegetation of New England. And we no
more expect that a New England child shall be a Mohammedan, a Parsee, or
a Buddhist, than that he shall have an Oriental physiognomy, and speak
an Oriental language. Indeed it is impossible for a man to exist in
human society without partaking in the spirit and manners of his country
and his age. Thus all the individuals of a nation represent, in a
greater or less degree, the spirit of the nation. They who do this most
perfectly are the _great_ men of that nation, because they are at once
both the product and the impersonation of their country and their age.
"We allow ourselves to think of Shakspeare, or of Raphael, or of Phidias
as having accomplished their work by the power of their individual
genius, but greatness like theirs is never more than the highest degree
of perfection which prevails widely around it, and forms the environment
in which it grows. No such single mind in single contact with the facts
of nature could have created a Pallas, a Madonna, or a Lear; such vast
conceptions are the growth of ages, the creation of a nation's spirit;
and the artist and poet, filled full with the power of that spirit, but
gave it form, and nothing but form. Nor would the form itself have been
attained by any isolated talent. No genius can dispense with
experience.... Noble conceptions already existing, and a noble school of
execution which will launch mind and hand upon their true courses, are
indispensable to transcendent excellence. Shakspeare's plays were as
much the offspring of the long generations who had pioneered the road
for him, as the discoveries of Newton were the offspring of those of
Copernicus."[8] The principles here enounced apply with equal force to
philosophers and men of science. The philosophy of Plato was but the
ripened fruit of the pregnant thoughts and seminal utterances of his
predecessors,--Socrates, Anaxagoras, and Pythagoras; whilst all of them
do but represent the general tendency and spirit of their country and
their times. The principles of Lord Bacon's "Instauratio Magna" were
incipient in the "Opus Majus" of Roger Bacon, the Franciscan friar. The
sixteenth century matured the thought of the thirteenth century. The
inductive method in scientific inquiry was immanent in the British mind,
and the latter Bacon only gave to it a permanent form. It is true that
great men have occasionally appeared on the stage of history who, like
the reformers Luther and Wesley, have seemed to be in conflict with the
prevailing spirit of their age and nation, but these men were the
creations of a providence--that providence which, from time to time, has
_supernaturally_ interposed in the moral history of our race by
corrective and remedial measures. These men were inspired and led by a
spirit which descended from on high. And yet even they had their
precursors and harbingers. Wyckliffe and John Huss, and Jerome of Prague
are but the representatives of numbers whose names do not grace the
historic page, who pioneered the way for Luther and the Reformation. And
no one can read the history of that great movement of the sixteenth
century without being persuaded there were thousands of Luther's
predecessors and contemporaries who, like Staupitz and Erasmus, lamented
the corruptions of the Church of Rome, and only needed the heroic
courage of Luther to make them reformers also. Whilst, therefore, we
recognize a free causal power in man, by which he determines his
individual and responsible character, we are compelled to recognize the
general law, that national character is mainly the result of those
geographical and ethological, and political and religious conditions in
which the nations have been placed in the providence of God.

[Footnote 7: See Dr. Wheedon's "Freedom of the Will," pp. 164, 165.]

[Footnote 8: Froude, "Hist. of England," pp. 73, 74.]

Nations, like persons, have an _Individuality_. They present certain
characteristic marks which constitute their proper identity, and
separate them from the surrounding nations of the earth; such, for
example, as complexion, physiognomy, language, pursuits, customs,
institutions, sentiments, ideas. The individuality of a nation is
determined mainly from _without_, and not, like human individuality,
from within. The laws of a man's personal character have their home in
the soul; and the peculiarities and habits, and that conduct of life,
which constitute his responsible character are, in a great degree, the
consequence of his own free choice. But dwelling, as he does, in
society, where he is continually influenced by the example and opinions
of his neighbors; subject, as he is, to the ceaseless influence of
climate, scenery, and other terrestrial conditions, the characteristics
which result from these relations, and which are common to all who dwell
in the same regions, and under the same institutions, constitute a
national individuality. Individual character is _variable_ under the
same general conditions, national character is _uniform_, because it
results from causes which operate alike upon all individuals.

Now, that man's complexion, his pursuits, his habits, his ideas are
greatly modified by his geographical surroundings, is the most obvious
of truths. No one doubts that the complexion of man is greatly affected
by climatic conditions. The appearance, habits, pursuits of the man who
lives within the tropics must, necessarily, differ from those of the man
who dwells within the temperate zone. No one expects that the dweller on
the mountain will have the same characteristics as the man who resides
on the plains; or that he whose home is in the interior of a continent
will have the same habits as the man whose home is on the islands of the
sea. The denizen of the primeval forest will most naturally become a
huntsman. The dweller on the extended plain, or fertile mountain slope,
will lead a pastoral, or an agricultural life. Those who live on the
margin of great rivers, or the borders of the sea, will "do business on
the great waters." Commerce and navigation will be their chief pursuits.
The people whose home is on the margin of the lake, or bay, or inland
sea, or the thickly studded archipelago, are mostly fishermen. And then
it is a no less obvious truth that men's pursuits exert a moulding
influence on their habits, their forms of speech, their sentiments, and
their ideas. Let any one take pains to observe the peculiarities which
characterize the huntsman, the shepherd, the agriculturist, or the
fisherman, and he will be convinced that their occupations stamp the
whole of their thoughts and feelings; color all their conceptions of
things outside their own peculiar field; direct their simple philosophy
of life; and give a tone, even, to their religious emotions.

The general aspects of nature, the climate and the scenery, exert an
appreciable and an acknowledged influence on the _mental_
characteristics of a people. The sprightliness and vivacity of the
Frank, the impetuosity of the Arab, the immobility of the Russ, the
rugged sternness of the Scot, the repose and dreaminess of the Hindoo
are largely due to the country in which they dwell, the air they
breathe, the food they eat, and the landscapes and skies they daily look
upon. The nomadic Arab is not only indebted to the country in which he
dwells for his habit of hunting for daily food, but for that love of a
free, untrammelled life, and for those soaring dreams of fancy in which
he so ardently delights. Not only is the Swiss determined by the
peculiarities of his geographical position to lead a pastoral life, but
the climate, and mountain scenery, and bracing atmosphere inspire him
with the love of liberty. The reserved and meditative Hindoo, accustomed
to the profuse luxuriance of nature, borrows the fantastic ideas of his
mythology from plants, and flowers, and trees. The vastness and infinite
diversity of nature, the colossal magnitude of all the forms of animal
and vegetable life, the broad and massive features of the landscape, the
aspects of beauty and of terror which surround him, and daily pour their
silent influences upon his soul, give vividness, grotesqueness, even, to
his imagination, and repress his active powers. His mental character
bears a peculiar and obvious relation to his geographical
surroundings.[9]

[Footnote 9: Ritter, "Geograph. Studies," p. 287.]

The influence of external nature on the imagination--the _creative_
faculty in man--is obvious and remarkable. It reveals itself in all the
productions of man--his architecture, his sculpture, his painting, and
his poetry. Oriental architecture is characterized by the boldness and
massiveness of all its parts, and the monotonous uniformity of all its
features. This is but the expression, in a material form, of that
shadowy feeling of infinity, and unity, and immobility which an unbroken
continent of vast deserts and continuous lofty mountain chains would
naturally inspire. The simple grandeur and perfect harmony and graceful
blending of light and shade so peculiar to Grecian architecture are the
product of a country whose area is diversified by the harmonious
blending of land and water, mountain and plain, all bathed in purest
light, and canopied with skies of serenest blue. And they are also the
product of a country where man is released from the imprisonment within
the magic circle of surrounding nature, and made conscious of his power
and freedom. In Grecian architecture, therefore, there is less of the
massiveness and immobility of nature, and more of the grace and dignity
of man. It adds to the idea of permanence a _vital_ expression. "The
Doric column," says Vitruvius, "has the proportion, strength, and beauty
of man." The Gothic architecture had its birthplace among a people who
had lived and worshipped for ages amidst the dense forests of the north,
and was no doubt an imitation of the interlacing of the overshadowing
trees. The clustered shaft, and lancet arch, and flowing tracery,
reflect the impression which the surrounding scenery had woven into the
texture of the Teutonic mind.

The history of painting and of sculpture will also show that the varied
"styles of art" are largely the result of the aspects which external
nature presented to the eye of man. Oriental sculpture, like its
architecture, was characterized by massiveness of form and tranquillity
of expression; and its painting was, at best, but colored sculpture. The
most striking objects are colossal figures, in which the human form is
strangely combined with the brute, as in the winged bulls of Nineveh and
the sphinxes of Egypt. Man is regarded simply as a part of nature, he
does not rise above the plane of animal life. The soul has its
immortality only in an eternal metempsychosis--a cycle of life which
sweeps through all the brute creation. But in Grecian sculpture we have
less of nature, more of man; less of massiveness, more of grace and
elegance; less repose, and more of action. Now the connection between
these styles of art, and the countries in which they were developed, is
at once suggested to the thoughtful mind.

And then, finally, the literature of a people equally reveals the
impress of surrounding cosmical conditions. "The poems of Ossian are but
the echo of the wild, rough, cloudy highlands of his Scottish home." The
forest songs of the wild Indian, the negro's plaintive melodies in the
rice-fields of Carolina, the refrains in which the hunter of Kamtchatka
relates his adventures with the polar bear, and in which the South Sea
Islander celebrates his feats and dangers on the deep, all betoken the
influence which the scenes of daily life exert upon the thoughts and
feelings of our race. "To what an extent nature can express herself in,
and modify the culture of the individual, as well as of an entire
people, can be seen on Ionian soil in the verse of Homer, which, called
forth under the most favorable sky, and on the most luxuriant shore of
the Grecian archipelago, not only charms us to-day, but bearing this
impress, has determined what shall be the classic form throughout all
coming time."[10]

[Footnote 10: See Ritter, pp. 288, 289. Poetic art has unquestionably
its _geographical_ distributions like the fauna and flora of the globe.
"If you love the images, not merely of a rich, but of a luxuriant fancy;
if you are pleased with the most daring flights; if you would see a
poetic creation full of wonders, then turn your eye to the poetry of the
_orient_, where all forms appear in purple; where each flower glows like
the morning ray resting on the earth. But if, on the contrary, you
prefer depth of thought, and earnestness of reflection; if you delight
in the colossal, yet pale forms, which float about in mist, and whisper
of the mysteries of the spirit-land, and of the vanity of all things,
except honor, then I must point you to the hoary _north_.... Or if you
sympathize with that deep feeling, that longing of the soul, which does
not linger on the earth, but evermore looks up to the azure tent of the
stars, where happiness dwells, where the unquiet of the beating heart is
still, then you must resort to the romantic poetry of the
_west_."--"_Study of Greek Literature_," Bishop Esaias Tegnér, p. 38.]

In seeking, therefore, to determine correctly what are the
characteristics of a nation, we must endeavor to trace how far the
physical constitution of that people, their temperament, their habits,
their sentiments, and their ideas have been formed, or modified, under
the surrounding geographical conditions, which, as we have seen, greatly
determine a nation's individuality. Guided by these lights, let us
approach the study of "_the men of Athens_."

_Attica_, of which Athens was the capital, and whose entire populations
were called "Athenians," was the most important of all the Hellenic
states. It is a triangular peninsula, the base of which is defined by
the high mountain ranges of Cithæron and Parnes, whilst the two other
sides are washed by the sea, having their vertex at the promontory of
Sunium, or Cape Colonna. The prolongation of the south-western line
towards the north until it reaches the base at the foot of Mount
Cithæron, served as the line of demarkation between the Athenian
territory and the State of Megara. Thus Attica may be generally
described as bounded on the north-east by the channel of the Negropont;
on the south-west by the gulf of Ægina and part of Megara; and on the
north-west by the territory which formed the ancient Bœotia, including
within its limits an area of about 750 miles.[11]

Hills of inferior elevation connect the mountain ranges of Cithæron and
Parnes with the mountainous surface of the south-east of the peninsula.
These hills, commencing with the promontory of Sunium itself, which
forms the vertex of the triangle, rise gradually on the south-east to
the round summit of Hymettus, and onward to the higher peak of
Pentelicus, near Marathon, on the east. The rest of Attica is all a
plain, one reach of which comes down to the sea on the south, at the
very base of Hymettus. Here, about five miles from the shore, an abrupt
rock rises from the plain, about 200 feet high, bordered on the south by
lower eminences. That rock is the Acropolis. Those lower eminences are
the Areopagus, the Pmyx, and the Museum. In the valley formed by these
four hills we have the Agora, and the varied undulations of these hills
determine the features of the city of Athens.[12]

[Footnote 11: See art. "Attica," _Encyc. Brit._]

[Footnote 12: See Conybeare and Howson's "Life and Epistles of St.
Paul," vol. i. p. 346.]

Nearly all writers on the topography of Athens derive their materials
from Pausanias, who visited the city in the early part of the second
century, and whose "Itinerary of Greece" is still extant.[13] He entered
the city by the Peiraic gate, the same gate at which Paul entered some
sixty years before. We shall place ourselves under his guidance, and, so
far as we are able, follow the same course, supplying some omissions, as
we go along, from other sources. On entering the city, the first
building which arrested the attention of Pausanias was the Pompeium, so
called because it was the depository of the sacred vessels, and also of
the garments used in the annual procession in honor of Athena (Minerva),
the tutelary deity of Athens, from whom the city derived its name. Near
this edifice stood a temple of Demeter (Ceres), containing statues of
that goddess, of her daughter Persephone, and of Iacchus, all executed
by Praxiteles; and beyond were several porticoes leading from the city
gates to the outer Ceramicus, while the intervening space was occupied
by various temples, the Gymnasium of Hermes, and the house of Polytion,
the most magnificent private residence in Athens.

[Footnote 13: The account here given of the topography of Athens is
derived mainly from the article on "Athens" in the _Encyc. Brit._]

There were two places in Athens known by the name of Ceramicus, one
without the walls, forming part of the suburbs; and the other within the
walls, embracing a very important section of the city. The outer
Ceramicus was covered with the sepulchres of the Athenians who had been
slain in battle, and buried at the public expense; it communicated with
the inner Ceramicus by the gate Dipylum. The Ceramicus within the city
probably included the Agora, the Stoa Basileios, and the Stoa Pœcile,
besides various other temples and public buildings.

Having fairly passed the city gates, a long street is before us with a
colonnade or cloister on either hand; and at the end of this street, by
turning to the left, we might go through the whole Ceramicus to the open
country, and the groves of the Academy. But we turn to the right, and
enter the Agora,--the market-place, as it is called in the English
translation of the sacred narrative.

We are not, however, to conceive of the market-place at Athens as
bearing any resemblance to the bare, undecorated spaces appropriated to
business in our modern towns; but rather as a magnificent public square,
closed in by grand historic buildings, of the highest style of
architecture; planted with palm-trees in graceful distribution, and
adorned with statues of the great men of Athens and the deified heroes
of her mythology, from the hands of the immortal masters of the plastic
art. This "market-place" was the great centre of the public life of the
Athenians,--the meeting-place of poets, orators, statesmen, warriors,
and philosophers,--a grand resort for leisure, for conversation, for
business, and for news. Standing in the Agora, and looking towards the
south, is the _Museum,_ so called because it was believed that _Musæus_,
the father of poetry, was buried there. Towards the north-west is the
_Pnyx,_ a sloping hill, partially levelled into an open area for
political assemblies. To the north is seen the craggy eminence of the
_Areopagus_, and on the north-east is the _Acropolis_ towering high
above the scene, "the crown and glory of the whole."

The most important buildings of the Agora are the Porticoes or
cloisters, the most remarkable of which are the Stoa Basileios, or
Portico of the king; the Stoa Eleutherius, or Portico of the Jupiter of
Freedom; and the Stoa Pœcile, or Painted Porch. These Porticoes were
covered walks, the roof being supported by columns, at least on one
side, and by solid masonry on the other. Such shaded walks are almost
indispensable in the south of Europe, where the people live much in the
open air, and they afford a grateful protection from the heat of the
sun, as well as a shelter from the rain. Seats were also provided where
the loungers might rest, and the philosophers and rhetoricians sit down
for intellectual conversation. The "Stoic" school of philosophy derived
its name from the circumstance that its founder, Zeno, used to meet and
converse with his disciples under one of these porticoes,--the Stoa
Pœcile. These porticoes were not only built in the most magnificent
style of architecture, but adorned with paintings and statuary by the
best masters. On the roof of the Stoa Basileios were statues of Theseus
and the Day. In front of the Stoa Eleutherius was placed the divinity to
whom it was dedicated; and within were allegorical paintings,
celebrating the rise of "the fierce democracy." The Stoa Pœcile derived
its name from the celebrated paintings which adorned its walls, and
which were almost exclusively devoted to the representation of national
subjects, as the contest of Theseus with the Amazons, the more glorious
struggle at Marathon, and the other achievements of the Athenians; here
also were suspended the shields of the Scionæans of Thrace, together
with those of the Lacedemonians, taken at the island of Sphacteria.

It is beyond our purpose to describe all the public edifices,--the
temples, gymnasia, and theatres which crowd the Ceramic area, and that
portion of the city lying to the west and south of the Acropolis. Our
object is, if possible, to convey to the reader some conception of the
ancient splendor and magnificence of Athens; to revive the scenes amidst
which the Athenians daily moved, and which may be presumed to have
exerted a powerful influence upon the manners, the taste, the habits of
thought, and the entire character of the Athenian people. To secure this
object we need only direct attention to the Acropolis, which was crowded
with the monuments of Athenian glory, and exhibited an amazing
concentration of all that was most perfect in art, unsurpassed in
excellence, and unrivalled in richness and splendor. It was "the
peerless gem of Greece, the glory and pride of art, the wonder and envy
of the world."

The western side of the Acropolis, which furnished the only access to
the summit of the hill, was about 168 feet in breadth; an opening so
narrow that, to the artists of Pericles, it appeared practicable to fill
up the space with a single building, which, in serving the purpose of a
gateway to the Acropolis, should also contribute to adorn, as well as
fortify the citadel. This work, the greatest achievement of civil
architecture in Athens, which rivalled the Parthenon in felicity of
execution, and surpassed it in boldness and originality of design,
consisted of a grand central colonnade closed by projecting wings. This
incomparable edifice, built of Pentelic marble, received the name of
Propylæa from its forming the vestibule to the five-fold gates by which
the citadel was entered. In front of the right wing there stood a small
Ionic temple of pure white marble, dedicated to Niké Apteros (Wingless
Victory).

A gigantic flight of steps conducted from the five-fold gates to the
platform of the Acropolis, which was, in fact, one vast composition of
architecture and sculpture dedicated to the national glory. Here stood
the Parthenon, or temple of the Virgin Goddess, the glorious temple
which rose in the proudest period of Athenian history to the honor of
Minerva, and which ages have only partially effaced. This magnificent
temple, "by its united excellences of materials, design, and decoration,
internal as well as external, has been universally considered the most
perfect which human genius ever planned and executed. Its dimensions
were sufficiently large to produce an impression of grandeur and
sublimity, which was not disturbed by any obtrusive subdivision of
parts; and, whether viewed at a small or greater distance, there was
nothing to divert the mind of the spectator from contemplating the unity
as well as majesty of mass and outline; circumstances which form the
first and most remarkable characteristic of every Greek temple erected
during the purer ages of Grecian taste and genius."[14]

[Footnote 14: Leake's "Topography of Athens," p. 209 et seq.]

It would be impossible to convey any just and adequate conception of the
artistic decorations of this wonderful edifice. The two pediments of the
temple were decorated with magnificent compositions of statuary, each
consisting of about twenty entire figures of colossal size; the one on
the western pediment representing the birth of Minerva, and the other,
on the eastern pediment, the contest between that goddess and Neptune
for the possession of Attica. Under the outer cornice were ninety-two
groups, raised in high relief from tablets about four feet square,
representing the victories achieved by her companions. Round the inner
frieze was presented the procession of the Parthenon on the grand
quinquennial festival of the Panathenæa. The procession is represented
as advancing in two parallel columns from west to east; one proceeding
along the northern, the other along the southern side of the temple;
part facing inward after turning the angle of the eastern front, and
part meeting towards the centre of that front.

The statue of the virgin goddess, the work of Phidias, stood in the
eastern chamber of the cella, and was composed of ivory and gold. It had
but one rival in the world, the Jupiter Olympus of the same famous
artist. On the summit or apex of the helmet was placed a sphinx, with
griffins on either side. The figure of the goddess was represented in an
erect martial attitude, and clothed in a robe reaching to the feet. On
the breast was a head of Medusa, wrought in ivory, and a figure of
Victory about four cubits high. The goddess held a spear in her hand,
and an ægis lay at her feet, while on her right, and near the spear, was
a figure of a serpent, believed to represent that of Erichthonius.

According to Pliny, the entire height of the statue was twenty-six
cubits (about forty feet), and the artist, Phidias, had ingeniously
contrived that the gold with which the statue was encrusted might be
removed at pleasure. The battle of the Centaurs and Lapithæ was carved
upon the sandals; the battle of the Amazons was represented on the ægis
which lay at her feet, and on the pedestal was sculptured the birth of
Pandora.

The temple of Erechtheus, the most ancient structure in Athens, stood on
the northern side of the Acropolis. The statue of Zeus Polieus stood
between the Propylæa and the Parthenon. The brazen colossus of Minerva,
cast from the spoils of Marathon, appears to have occupied the space
between the Erechtheium and the Propylæa, near the Pelasgic or northern
wall. This statue of the tutelary divinity of Athens and Attica rose in
gigantic proportions above all the buildings of the Acropolis, the
flashing of whose helmet plumes met the sailor's eye as he approached
from the Sunian promontory. And the remaining space of the wide area was
literally crowded with statuary, amongst which were Theseus contending
with the Minotaur; Hercules strangling the serpents; the Earth imploring
showers from Jupiter; and Minerva causing the olive to sprout, while
Neptune raises the waves. After these works of art, it is needless to
speak of others. It may be sufficient to state that Pausanias mentions
by name towards three hundred remarkable statues which adorned this part
of the city even after it had been robbed and despoiled by its several
conquerors.

The Areopagus, or hill of Ares (Mars), so called, it is said, in
consequence of that god having been the first person tried there for the
crime of murder, was, beyond all doubt, the rocky height which is
separated from the western end of the Acropolis by a hollow, forming a
communication between the northern and southern divisions of the city.
The court of the Areopagus was simply an open space on the highest
summit of the hill, the judges sitting in the open air, on rude seats of
stone, hewn out of the solid rock. Near to the spot on which the court
was held was the sanctuary of the Furies, the avenging deities of
Grecian mythology, whose presence gave additional solemnity to the
scene. The place and the court were regarded by the people with
superstitious reverence.

This completes, our survey of the principal buildings, monuments, and
localities within the city of Athens. We do not imagine we have
succeeded in conveying any adequate idea of the ancient splendor and
glory of this city, which was not only the capital of Attica, but also

/*
     "The eye of Greece, mother of art and eloquence."
*/

We trust, however, that we have contributed somewhat towards awakening
in the reader's mind a deeper interest in these classic scenes, and
enabling him to appreciate, more vividly, the allusions we may hereafter
make to them.

The mere dry recital of geographical details, and topographical notices
is, however, of little interest in itself, and by itself. A tract of
country derives its chief interest from its historic _associations_--its
immediate relations to man. The events which have transpired therein,
the noble or ignoble deeds, the grand achievements, or the great
disasters of which it has been the theatre, these constitute the living
heart of its geography. Palestine has been rendered forever memorable,
not by any remarkable peculiarities in its climate or scenery, but by
the fact that it was the home of God's ancient people--the Hebrews and
still more, because the ardent imagination of the modern traveller still
sees upon its mountains and plains the lingering footprints of the Son
of God. And so Attica will always be regarded as a classic land, because
it was the theatre of the most illustrious period of ancient
history--_the period of youthful vigor in the life of humanity, when
viewed as a grand organic whole_.

Here on a narrow spot of less superficies than the little State of Rhode
Island there flourished a republic which, in the grandeur of her
military and naval achievements, at Marathon, Thermopylæ, Platæa, and
Salamis, in the sublime creations of her painters, sculptors, and
architects, and the unrivalled productions of her poets, orators, and
philosophers, has left a lingering glory on the historic page, which
twenty centuries have not been able to eclipse or dim. The names of
Solon and Pericles; of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle; of Isocrates and
Demosthenes; of Myron, Phidias, and Praxiteles; of Herodotus, Xenophon,
and Thucydides; of Sophocles and Euripides, have shed an undying lustre
on Athens and Attica.

How much of this universal renown, this imperishable glory attained by
the Athenian people, is to be ascribed to their geographical position
and surroundings, and to the elastic, bracing air, the enchanting
scenery, the glorious skies, which poured their daily inspiration on the
Athenian mind, is a problem we may scarcely hope to solve.

Of this, at least, we may be sure, that all these geographical and
cosmical conditions were ordained by God, and ordained, also, for some
noble and worthy end. That God, "the Father of all the families of the
earth," cared for the Athenian people as much as for Jewish and
Christian nations, we can not doubt. That they were the subjects of a
Providence, and that, in God's great plan of human history, they had an
important part to fulfill, we must believe. That God "determined the
time of each nation's existence, and fixed the geographical bounds of
its habitation," is affirmed by Paul. And that the _specific_ end for
which the nation had its existence was fulfilled, we have the fullest
confidence. _So far, therefore, as we can trace the relation that
subsists between the geographical position and surroundings of that
nation, and its national characteristics and actual history, so far are
we able to solve the problem of its destiny; and by so much do we
enlarge our comprehension of the plan of God in the history of our
race_.

The geographical position of Greece was favorable to the freest
commercial and maritime intercourse with the great historic
nations--those nations most advanced in science, literature, and art.
Bounded on the west by the Adriatic and Ionian seas, by the
Mediterranean on the south, and on the east by the Ægean Sea, her
populations enjoyed a free intercommunication with the Egyptians,
Hebrews, Persians, Phœnicians, Romans, and Carthaginians. This
peculiarity in the geographical position of the Grecian peninsula could
not fail to awaken in its people a taste for navigation, and lead them
to active commercial intercourse with foreign nations.[15] The boundless
oceans on the south and east, the almost impassable mountains on the
west and north of Asia, presented insurmountable obstacles to commercial
intercourse. But the extended border-lands and narrow inland seas of
Southern Europe allured man, in presence of their opposite shores, to
the perpetual exchange of his productions. An arm of the sea is not a
barrier, but rather a tie between the nations. Appearing to separate, it
in reality draws them together without confounding them.[16] On such a
theatre we may expect that commerce will be developed on an extensive
scale.[17] And, along with commerce, there will be increased activity in
all departments of productive industry, and an enlarged diffusion of
knowledge. "Commerce," says Ritter, "is the great mover and combiner of
the world's activities." And it also furnishes the channels through
which flow the world's ideas. Commerce, both in a material and moral
point of view, is the life of nations. Along with the ivory and ebony,
the fabrics and purple dyes, the wines and spices of the Syrian
merchant, there flowed into Greece the science of numbers and of
navigation, and the art of alphabetical writing from Phœnicia. Along
with the fine wheat, and embroidered linen, and riches of the farther
Indias which came from Egypt, there came, also, into Greece some
knowledge of the sciences of astronomy and geometry, of architecture and
mechanics, of medicine and chemistry; together with the mystic wisdom of
the distant Orient. The scattered rays of light which gleamed in the
eastern skies were thus converged in Greece, as on a focal point, to be
rendered more brilliant by contact with the powerful Grecian intellect,
and then diffused throughout the western world. Thus intercourse with
surrounding nations, by commerce and travel, contact therewith by
immigrations and colonizations, even collisions and invasions also,
became, in the hands of a presiding Providence, the means of diffusing
knowledge, of quickening and enlarging the active powers of man, and
thus, ultimately, of a higher civilization.

[Footnote 15: Humboldt's "Cosmos," vol. ii. p. 143.]

[Footnote 16: Cousin, vol. i. pp. 169, 170.]

[Footnote 17: The advantageous situation of Britain for commerce, and
the nature of the climate have powerfully contributed to the perfection
of industry among her population. Had she occupied a central, internal
station, like that of Switzerland, the facilities of her people for
dealing with others being so much the less, their progress would have
been comparatively slow, and, instead of being highly improved, their
manufactures would have been still in infancy. But being surrounded on
all sides by the sea, that "great highway of nations," they have been
able to maintain an intercourse with the most remote as well as the
nearest countries, to supply them on the easiest terms with their
manufactures, and to profit by the peculiar products and capacities of
production possessed by other nations. To the geographical position and
climate of Great Britain, her people are mainly indebted for their
position as the first commercial nation on earth.--See art.
"Manufactrues," p. 277, _Encyc. Brit_.]

Then further, the peculiar configuration of Greece, the wonderful
complexity of its coast-line, its peninsular forms, the number of its
islands, and the singular distribution of its mountains, all seem to
mark it as the theatre of activity, of movement, of individuality, and
of freedom. An extensive continent, unbroken by lakes and inland seas,
as Asia, where vast deserts and high mountain chains separate the
populations, is the seat of immobility.[18] Commerce is limited to the
bare necessities of life, and there are no inducements to movement, to
travel, and to enterprise. There are no conditions prompting man to
attempt the conquest of nature. Society is therefore stationary as in
China and India. Enfolded and imprisoned within the overpowering
vastness and illimitable sweep of nature, man is almost unconscious of
his freedom and his personality. He surrenders himself to the disposal
of a mysterious "_fate_" and yields readily to the despotic sway of
superhuman powers. The State is consequently the reign of a single
despotic will. The laws of the Medes and Persians are unalterable. But
in Greece we have extended border-lands on the coast of navigable seas;
peninsulas elaborately articulated, and easy of access. We have
mountains sufficiently elevated to shade the land and diversify the
scenery, and yet of such a form as not to impede communication. They are
usually placed neither in parallel chains nor in massive groups, but are
so disposed as to inclose extensive tracts of land admirably adapted to
become the seats of small and independent communities, separated by
natural boundaries, sometimes impossible to overleap. The face of the
interior country,--its forms of relief, seemed as though Providence
designed, from the beginning, to keep its populations socially and
politically disunited. These difficulties of internal transit by land
were, however, counteracted by the large proportion of coast, and the
accessibility of the country by sea. The promontories and indentations
in the line of the Grecian coast are hardly less remarkable than the
peculiar elevations and depressions of the surface. "The shape of
Peloponnesus, with its three southern gulfs, the Argolic, Laconian, and
Messenian, was compared by the ancient geographers to the leaf of a
plane-tree: the Pagasæan gulf on the eastern side of Greece, and the
Ambrakian gulf on the western, with their narrow entrances and
considerable area, are equivalent to internal lakes: Xenophon boasts of
the double sea which embraces so large a portion of Attica; Ephorus, of
the triple sea by which Bœotia was accessible from west, north, and
south--the Eubœan strait, opening a long line of country on both sides
to coasting navigation. But the most important of all Grecian gulfs are
the Corinthian and Saronic, washing the northern and north-eastern
shores of Peloponnesus, and separated by the narrow barrier of the
Isthmus of Corinth. The former, especially, lays open Ætolia, Phokis,
and Bœotia, as the whole northern coast of Peloponnesus, to water
approach.... It will thus appear that there was no part of Greece proper
which could be considered as out of the reach of the sea, whilst most
parts of it were easy of access. The sea was thus the sole channel for
transmitting improvements and ideas as well as for maintaining
sympathies" between the Hellenic tribes.[19] The sea is not only the
grand highway of commercial intercourse, but the empire of movement, of
progress, and of freedom. Here man is set free from the bondage imposed
by the overpowering magnitude and vastness of continental and oceanic
forms. The boisterous and, apparently, lawless winds are made to obey
his will. He mounts the sea as on a fiery steed and "lays his hand upon
her mane." And whilst thus he succeeds, in any measure, to triumph over
nature, he wakes to conscious power and freedom. It is in this region of
contact and commingling of sea and land where man attains the highest
superiority. Refreshing our historic recollections, and casting our eyes
upon the map of the world, we can not fail to see that all the most
highly civilized nations have lived, or still live, on the margin of the
sea.

[Footnote 18: Cousin, vol. i. pp. 151, 170.]

[Footnote 19: Grote's "Hist, of Greece," vol. ii. pp. 221, 225.]

The peculiar configuration of the territory of Greece, its forms of
relief, "so like, in many respects, to Switzerland," could not fail to
exert a powerful influence on the character and destiny of its people.
Its inclosing mountains materially increased their defensive power, and,
at the same time, inspired them with the love of liberty. Those
mountains, as we have seen, so unique in their distribution, were
natural barriers against the invasion of foreign nations, and they
rendered each separate community secure against the encroachments of the
rest. The pass of Thermopylæ, between Thessaly and Phocis, that of
Cithæron, between Bœotia and Attica; and the mountain ranges of Oneion
and Geraneia, along the Isthmus of Corinth, were positions which could
be defended against any force of invaders. This signal peculiarity in
the forms of relief protected each section of the Greeks from being
conquered, and at the same time maintained their separate autonomy. The
separate states of Greece lived, as it were, in the presence of each
other, and at the same time resisted all influences and all efforts
towards a coalescence with each other, until the time of Alexander.
Their country, a word of indefinite meaning to the Asiatic, conveyed to
them as definite an idea as that of their own homes. Its whole
landscape, with all its historic associations, its glorious monuments of
heroic deeds, were perpetually present to their eyes. Thus their
patriotism, concentrated within a narrow sphere, and kept alive by the
sense of their individual importance, their democratic spirit, and their
struggles with surrounding communities to maintain their independence,
became a strong and ruling passion. Their geographical surroundings had,
therefore, a powerful influence upon their political institutions.
Conquest, which forces nations of different habits, characters, and
languages into unity, is at last the parent of degrading servitude.
These nations are only held together, as in the Roman empire, by the
iron hand of military power. The despot, surrounded by a foreign
soldiery, appears in the conquered provinces, simply to enforce tribute,
and compel obedience to his arbitrary will. But the small Greek
communities, protected by the barriers of their seas and gulfs and
mountains, escaped, for centuries, this evil destiny. The people, united
by identity of language and manners and religion, by common interest and
facile intercommunication, could readily combine to resist the invasions
of foreign nations, as well as the encroachments of their own rulers.
And they were able to easily model their own government according to
their own necessities and circumstances and common interests, and to
make the end for which it existed the sole measure of the powers it was
permitted to wield.[20]

[Footnote 20: _Encyc. Brit_, art. "Greece."]

The soil of Attica was not the most favorable to agricultural pursuits.
In many places it was stony and uneven, and a considerable proportion
was bare rock, on which nothing could be grown. Not half the surface was
capable of cultivation. In this respect it may be fitly compared to some
of the New England States. The light, dry soil produced excellent
barley, but not enough of wheat for their own consumption. Demosthenes
informs us that Athens brought every year, from Byzantium, four hundred
thousand _medimni_ of wheat. The alluvial plains, under industrious
cultivation, would furnish a frugal subsistence for a large population,
and the mildness of the climate allowed all the more valuable products
to ripen early, and go out of season last. Such conditions, of course,
would furnish motives for skill and industry, and demand of the people
frugal and temperate habits. The luxuriance of a tropical climate tends
to improvidence and indolence. Where nature pours her fullness into the
lap of ease, forethought and providence are little needed. There is none
of that struggle for existence which awakens sagacity, and calls into
exercise the active powers of man. But in a country where nature only
yields her fruits as the reward of toil, and yet enough to the
intelligent culture of the soil, there habits of patient industry must
be formed. The alternations of summer and winter excite to forethought
and providence, and the comparative poverty of the soil will prompt to
frugality. Man naturally aspires to improve his condition by all the
means within his power. He becomes a careful observer of nature, he
treasures up the results of observation, he compares one fact with
another and notes their relations, and he makes new experiments to test
his conclusions, and thus he awakes to the vigorous exercise of all his
powers. These physical conditions must develop a hardy, vigorous,
prudent, and temperate race; and such, unquestionably, were the Greeks.
"Theophrastus, and other authors, amply attest the observant and
industrious agriculture prevalent in Greece. The culture of the vine and
olive appears to have been particularly elaborate and the many different
accidents of soil, level, and exposure which were to be found, afforded
to observant planters materials for study and comparison."[21] The
Greeks were frugal in their habits and simple in their modes of life.
The barley loaf seems to have been more generally eaten than the wheaten
loaf; this, with salt fish and vegetables, was the common food of the
population. Economy in domestic life was universal. In their manners,
their dress, their private dwellings, they were little disposed to
ostentation or display.

[Footnote 21: Grote, "Hist. of Greece," vol. ii. p. 230.]

The climate of Attica is what, in physical geography, would be called
_maritime_. "Here are allied the continental vigor and oceanic softness,
in a fortunate union, mutually tempering each other."[22] The climate of
the whole peninsula of Greece seems to be distinguished from that of
Spain and Italy, by having more of the character of an inland region.
The diversity of local temperature is greater; the extremes of summer
and winter more severe. In Arcadia the snow has been found eighteen
inches thick in January, with the thermometer at 16° Fahrenheit, and it
sometimes lies on the ground for six weeks. The summits of the central
chains of Pindus and most of the Albanian mountains are covered with
snow from the beginning of November to the end of March. In Attica,
which, being freely exposed to the sea, has in some measure an insular
climate, the winter sets in about the beginning of January. About the
middle of that month the snow begins to fall, but seldom remains upon
the plain for more than a few days, though it lies on the summit of the
mountain for a month.[23] And then, whilst Bœotia, which joins to
Attica, is higher and colder, and often covered with dense fogs, Attica
is remarkable for the wonderful transparency, dryness, and elasticity of
its atmosphere. All these climatal conditions exerted, no doubt, a
modifying influence upon the character of the inhabitants.[24] In a
tropical climate man is enfeebled by excessive heat. His natural
tendency is to inaction and repose. His life is passed in a "strenuous
idleness." His intellectual, his reflective faculties are overmastered
by his physical instincts. Passion, sentiment, imagination prevail over
the sober exercises of his reasoning powers. Poetry universally
predominates over philosophy. The whole character of Oriental language,
religion, literature is intensely imaginative. In the frozen regions of
the frigid zone, where a perpetual winter reigns, and where lichens and
mosses are the only forms of vegetable life, man is condemned to the
life of a huntsman, and depends mainly for his subsistence on the
precarious chances of the chase. He is consequently nomadic in his
habits, and barbarous withal. His whole life is spent in the bare
process of procuring a living. He consumes a large amount of oleaginous
food, and breathes a damp heavy atmosphere, and is, consequently, of a
dull phlegmatic temperament. Notwithstanding his uncertain supplies of
food, he is recklessly improvident, and indifferent to all the lessons
of experience. Intellectual pursuits are all precluded. There is no
motive, no opportunity, and indeed no disposition for mental culture.
But in a temperate climate man is stimulated to high mental activity.
The alternations of heat and cold, of summer and of winter, an elastic,
fresh, and bracing atmosphere, a diversity in the aspects of nature,
these develop a vivacity of temperament, a quickness of sensibility as
well as apprehension, and a versatility of feeling as well as genius.
History marks out the temperate zone as the seat of the refined and
cultivated nations.

[Footnote 22: Guyot, "Earth and Man," p. 181.]

[Footnote 23: _Encyc. Brit._, art. "Greece."]

[Footnote 24: The influence of climatic conditions did not escape the
attention of the Greeks. Herodotus, Hippocrates, and Aristotle speak of
the climate of Asia as more enervating than that of Greece. They
regarded the changeful character and diversity of local temperature in
Greece as highly stimulating to the energies of the populations. The
marked contrast between the Athenians and the Bœotians was supposed to
be represented in the light and heavy atmosphere which they respectively
breathed.--_Grote_, vol. ii. pp. 232-3.]

The natural scenery of Greece was of unrivalled grandeur--surpassing
Italy, perhaps every country in the world. It combined in the highest
degree every feature essential to the highest beauty of a landscape
except, perhaps, large rivers. But this was more than compensated for by
the proximity of the sea, which, by its numerous arms, seemed to embrace
the land on nearly every side. Its mountains, encircled with zones of
wood, and capped with snow, though much lower than the Alps, are as
imposing by the suddenness of their elevation--"pillars of heaven, the
fosterers of enduring snows."[25] Rich sheltered plains lie at their
feet, covered with an unequally woven mantle of trees, and shrubs, and
flowers,--"the verdant gloom of the thickly-mantling ivy, the narcissus
steeped in heavenly dew, the golden-beaming crocus, the hardy and
ever-fresh-sprouting olive-tree,"[26] and the luxuriant palm, which
nourishes amid its branches the grape swelling with juice. But it is the
combination of these features, in the most diversified manner, with
beautiful inland bays and seas, broken by headlands, inclosed by
mountains, and studded with islands of every form and magnitude, which
gives to the scenery of Greece its proud pre-eminence. "Greek scenery,"
says Humboldt, "presents the peculiar charm of an intimate blending of
sea and land, of shores adorned with vegetation, or picturesquely girt
with rocks gleaming in the light of aerial tints, and an ocean beautiful
in the play of the ever-changing brightness of its deep-toned wave."[27]
And over all the serene, deep azure skies, occasionally veiled by light
fleecy clouds, with vapory purple mists resting on the distant mountain
tops. This glorious scenery of Greece is evermore the admiration of the
modern traveller. "In wandering about Athens on a sunny day in March,
when the asphodels are blooming on Colones, when the immortal mountains
are folded in a transparent haze, and the Ægean slumbers afar among his
isles," he is reminded of the lines of Byron penned amid these scenes--

[Footnote 25: Pindar.]

[Footnote 26: Sophocles, "Œdipus at Colonna."]

[Footnote 27: "Cosmos," vol. ii. p. 25.]

     "Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;
     Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
     Thine olives ripe as when Minerva smiled,
     And still his honeyed wealth Hymettus yields;
     There the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
     The freeborn wanderer of the mountain air;
     Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
     Still in his beams Mendeli's marbles glare;
     Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but nature still is fair."[28]

[Footnote 28: Canto ii., v. lxxxvi., "Childe Harold."]

The effect of this scenery upon the character, the imagination, the
taste of the Athenians must have been immense. Under the influence of
such sublime objects, the human mind becomes gifted as with inspiration,
and is by nature filled with poetic images. "Greece became the
birth-place of taste, of art, and eloquence, the chosen sanctuary of the
muses, the prototype of all that is graceful, and dignified, and grand
in sentiment and action."

And now, if we have succeeded in clearly presenting and properly
grouping the facts, and in estimating the influence of geographical
position and surroundings on national character, we have secured the
natural _criteria_ by which we examine, and even correct the portraiture
of the Athenian character usually presented by the historian.

The character of the Athenians has been sketched by Plutarch[29] with
considerable minuteness, and his representations have been permitted,
until of late years, to pass unchallenged. He has described them as at
once passionate and placable, easily moved to anger, and as easily
appeased; fond of pleasantry and repartee, and heartily enjoying a
laugh; pleased to hear themselves praised, and yet not annoyed by
criticism and censure; naturally generous towards those who were poor
and in humble circumstances, and humane even towards their enemies;
jealous of their liberties, and keeping even their rulers in awe. In
regard to their intellectual traits, he affirms their minds were not
formed for laborious research, and though they seized a subject as it
were by intuition, yet wanted patience and perseverance for a thorough
examination of all its bearings. "An observation," says the writer of
the article on "_Attica_," in the Encyclopædia Britannica, "more
superficial in itself, and arguing a greater ignorance of the Athenians,
can not easily be imagined." Plutarch lived more than three hundred
years after the palmy days of the Athenian Demos had passed away. He was
a Bœotian by birth, not an Attic, and more of a Roman than a Greek in
all his sympathies. We are tempted to regard him as writing under the
influence of prejudice, if not of envy. He was scarcely reliable as a
biographer, and as materials for history his "Parallel Lives" have been
pronounced "not altogether trustworthy."[30]

[Footnote 29: "De Præcept."]

[Footnote 30: _Encyc. of Biography_, art. "Plutarch."]

That the Athenians were remarkable for the ardor and vivacity of their
temperament,--that they were liable to sudden gusts of passion,--that
they were inconstant in their affections, intolerant of dictation,
impatient of control, and hasty to resent every assumption of
superiority,--that they were pleased with flattery, and too ready to
lend a willing ear to the adulation of the demagogue,--and that they
were impetuous and brave, yet liable to be excessively elated by
success, and depressed by misfortune, we may readily believe, because
such traits of character are in perfect harmony with all the facts and
conclusions already presented. Such characteristics were the natural
product of the warm and genial sunlight, the elastic bracing air, the
ethereal skies, the glorious mountain scenery, and the elaborate
blending of sea and land, so peculiar to Greece and the whole of
Southern Europe.[31] These characteristics were shared in a greater or
less degree by all the nations of Southern Europe in ancient times, and
they are still distinctive traits in the Frenchman, the Italian, and the
modern Greek.[32]

[Footnote 31: "As the skies of Hellas surpassed nearly all other
climates in brightness and elasticity, so, also, had nature dealt most
lovingly with the inhabitants of this land. Throughout the whole being
of the Greek there reigned supreme a quick susceptibility, out of which
sprang a gladsome serenity of temper, and a keen enjoyment of life;
acute sense, and nimbleness of apprehension; a guileless and child-like
feeling, full of trust and faith, combined with prudence and forecast.
These peculiarities lay so deeply imbedded in the inmost nature of the
Greeks that no revolutions of time and circumstances have yet been able
to destroy them; nay, it may be asserted that even now, after centuries
of degradation, they have not been wholly extinguished in the
inhabitants of ancient Hellas."--"_Education of the Moral Sentiment
amongst the Ancient Greeks_." By FREDERICK JACOBS, p. 320.]

[Footnote 32: These are described by the modern historian and traveller
as lively, versatile, and witty. "The love of liberty and independence
does not seem to be rooted out of the national character by centuries of
subjugation. They love to command; but though they are loyal to a good
government, they are apt readily to rise when their rights and liberties
are infringed. As there is little love of obedience among them, so
neither is there any toleration of aristocratic pretensions."--_Encyc.
Brit._, art. "Greece."]

The consciousness of power, the feeling of independence, the ardent love
of freedom induced in the Athenian mind by the objective freedom of
movement which his geographical position afforded, and that
subordination and subserviency of physical nature to man so peculiar to
Greece, determined the democratic character of all their political
institutions. And these institutions reacted upon the character of the
people and intensified their love of liberty. This passionate love of
personal freedom, amounting almost to disease, excited them to a
constant and almost distressing vigilance. And it is not to be wondered
at if it displayed itself in an extreme jealousy of their rulers, an
incessant supervision and criticism of all their proceedings, and an
intense and passionate hatred of tyrants and of tyranny. The popular
legislator or the successful soldier might dare to encroach upon their
liberties in the moment when the nation was intoxicated and dazzled with
their genius, their prowess, and success; but a sudden revulsion of
popular feeling, and an explosion of popular indignation, would overturn
the one, and ostracism expel the other. Thus while inconstancy, and
turbulence, and faction seem to have been inseparable from the
democratic spirit, the Athenians were certainly constant in their love
of liberty, faithful in their affection for their country,[33] and
invariable in their sympathy and admiration for that genius which shed
glory upon their native land. And then they were ever ready to repair
the errors, and make amends for the injustice committed under the
influence of passionate excitement, or the headlong impetuosity of their
too ardent temperament. The history of Greece supplies numerous
illustrations of this spirit. The sentence of death which had been
hastily passed on the inhabitants of Mytilene was, on sober reflection,
revoked the following day. The immediate repentance and general sorrow
which followed the condemnation of the ten generals, as also of
Socrates, are notable instances.

[Footnote 33: When immense bribes were offered by the king of Persia to
induce the Athenians to detach themselves from the alliance with the
rest of the Hellenic States, she answered by the mouth of Aristides
"that it was impossible for all the gold in the world to tempt the
Republic of Athens, or prevail with it to sell its liberty and that of
Greece!"]

In their private life the Athenians were courteous, generous, and
humane. Whilst bold and free in the expression of their opinions, they
paid the greatest attention to rules of politeness, and were nicely
delicate on points of decorum. They had a natural sense of what was
becoming and appropriate, and an innate aversion to all extravagance. A
graceful demeanor and a quiet dignity were distinguishing traits of
Athenian character. They were temperate and frugal[34] in their habits,
and little addicted to ostentation and display. Even after their
victories had brought them into contact with Oriental luxury and
extravagance, and their wealth enabled them to rival, in costliness and
splendor, the nations they had conquered, they still maintained a
republican simplicity. The private dwellings of the principal citizens
were small, and usually built of clay; their interior embellishments
also were insignificant--the house of Polytion alone formed an
exception.[35] All their sumptuousness and magnificence were reserved
for and lavished on their public edifices and monuments of art, which
made Athens the pride of Greece and the wonder of the world.
Intellectually, the Athenians were remarkable for their quickness of
apprehension, their nice and delicate perception, their intuitional
power, and their versatile genius. Nor were they at all incapable of
pursuing laborious researches, or wanting in persevering application and
industry, notwithstanding Plutarch's assertion to the contrary. The
circumstances of every-day life in Attica, the conditions which
surrounded the Athenian from childhood to age, were such as to call for
the exercise of these qualities of mind in the highest degree. Habits of
patient industry were induced in the Athenian character by the poverty
and comparative barrenness of the soil, demanding greater exertion to
supply their natural wants. And an annual period of dormancy, though
unaccompanied by the rigors of a northern winter, called for prudence in
husbanding, and forethought and skill in endeavoring to increase their
natural resources. The aspects of nature were less massive and
awe-inspiring, her features more subdued, and her areas more
circumscribed and broken, inviting and emboldening man to attempt her
conquest. The whole tendency of natural phenomena in Greece was to
restrain the imagination, and discipline the observing and reasoning
faculties in man. Thus was man inspired with confidence in his own
resources, and allured to cherish an inquisitive, analytic, and
scientific spirit. "The French, in point of national character, hold
nearly the same relative place amongst the nations of Europe that the
Athenians held amongst the States of Ancient Greece." And whilst it is
admitted the French are quick, sprightly, vivacious, perhaps sometimes
light even to frivolity, it must be conceded they have cultivated the
natural and exact sciences with a patience, and perseverance, and
success unsurpassed by any of the nations of Europe. And so the
Athenians were the Frenchmen of Greece. Whilst they spent their "leisure
time"[36] in the place of public resort, the porticoes and groves,
"hearing and telling the latest news" (no undignified or improper mode
of recreation in a city where newspapers were unknown), whilst they are
condemned as "garrulous," "frivolous," "full of curiosity," and
"restlessly fond of novelties," we must insist that a love of study, of
patient thought and profound research, was congenial to their natural
temperament, and that an inquisitive and analytic spirit, as well as a
taste for subtile and abstract speculation, were inherent in the
national character. The affluence, and fullness, and flexibility, and
sculpture-like finish of the language of the Attics, which leaves far
behind not only the languages of antiquity, but also the most cultivated
of modern times, is an enduring monument of the patient industry of the
Athenians.[37] Language is unquestionably the highest creation of
reason, and in the language of a nation we can see reflected as in a
mirror the amount of culture to which it has attained. The rare balance
of the imagination and the reasoning powers, in which the perfection of
the human intellect is regarded as consisting, the exact correspondence
between the thought and the expression, "the free music of prosaic
numbers in the most diversified forms of style," the calmness, and
perspicuity, and order, even in the stormiest moments of inspiration,
revealed in every department of Greek literature, were not a mere happy
stroke of chance, but a product of unwearied effort--and effort too
which was directed by the criteria which reason supplied. The plastic
art of Greece, which after the lapse of ages still stands forth in
unrivalled beauty, so that, in presence of the eternal models it
created, the modern artist feels the painful lack of progress was not a
spontaneous outburst of genius, but the result of intense application
and unwearied discipline. The achievements of the philosophic spirit,
the ethical and political systems of the Academy, the Lyceum, the Stoa,
and the Garden, the anticipations, scattered here and there like
prophetic hints, of some of the profoundest discoveries of "inductive
science" in more modern days,--all these are an enduring protest against
the strange misrepresentations of Plutarch.

[Footnote 34: These are still characteristics of the Greeks. "They are
an exceedingly temperate people; drunkenness is a vice remarkably rare
amongst them; their food also is spare and simple; even the richest are
content with a dish of vegetables for each meal, and the poor with a
handful of olives or a piece of salt fish.... All other pleasures are
indulged with similar propriety; their passions are moderate, and
insanity is almost unknown amongst them."--_Encyc. Brit._, art.
"Greece."]

[Footnote 35: Niebuhr's Lectures, vol. i. p. 101.]

[Footnote 36: Εύκαιρέω corresponds exactly to the Latin _vacare_, "to be
at leisure."]

[Footnote 37: Frederick Jacobs, on "Study of Classic Antiquity," p. 57.]

In Athens there existed a providential collocation of the most favorable
conditions in which humanity can be placed for securing its highest
natural development. Athenian civilization is the solution, on the
theatre of history, of the problem--What degree of perfection can
humanity, under the most favorable conditions, attain, without the
supernatural light, and guidance, and grace of Christianity?[38] "Like
their own goddess Athene the people of Athens seem to spring full-armed
into the arena of history, and we look in vain to Egypt, Syria, and
India, for more than a few seeds that burst into such marvellous growth
on the soil of Attica."[39]

[Footnote 38: It has been asserted by some theological writers, Watson
for example, that no society of civilized men has been, or can be
constituted without the aid of a religion directly communicated by
revelation, and transmitted by oral tradition;--"that it is possible to
raise a body of men into that degree of civil improvement which would
excite the passion for philosophic investigation, without the aid of
religion... can have no proof, and is contradicted by every fact and
analogy with which we are acquainted." (_Institutes_, vol. i. p. 271;
see also Archbishop Whately, "Dissertation," etc., vol. i. _Encyc.
Brit._, p. 449-455).

The fallacy of the reasoning by which this doctrine is sought to be
sustained is found in the assumption "that to all our race the existence
of a First Cause is a question of philosophy," and that the idea of God
lies at the end of "a gradual process of inquiry" and induction, for
which a high degree of "scientific culture" is needed. Whereas the idea
of a First Cause lies at the beginning, not at the end of philosophy;
and philosophy is simply the analysis of our natural consciousness of
God, and the presentation of the idea in a logical form. Faith in the
existence of God is not the result of a conscious process of reflection;
it is the spontaneous and instinctive logic of the human mind, which, in
view of phenomena presented to sense, by a necessary law of thought
immediately and intuitively affirms a personal Power, an intelligent
Mind as the author. In this regard, there is no difference between men
except the clearness with which they apprehend, and the logical account
they can render to themselves, of this instinctive belief. Spontaneous
intuition, says Cousin, is the genius of all men; reflection the genius
of few men. "But Leibnitz had no more confidence in the principle of
causality, and even in his favorite principle of sufficient reason, than
the most ignorant of men;" the latter have this principle within them,
as a law of thought, controlling their conception of the universe, and
doing this almost unconsciously; the former, by an analysis of thought,
succeeded in defining and formulating the ideas and laws which
necessitate the cognition of a God. The function of philosophy is simply
to transform ἀληθὴς δόξα into ίτιστήμη--right opinion into science,--to
elucidate and logically present the immanent thought which lies in the
universal consciousness of man.

That the possession of the idea of God is essential to the social and
moral elevation of man,--that is, to the civilization of our race, is
most cheerfully conceded. That humanity has an end and destination which
can only be secured by the true knowledge of God, and by a participation
of the nature of God, is equally the doctrine of Plato and of Christ.
Now, if humanity has a special end and destination, it must have some
instinctive tendings, some spermatic ideas, some original forces or
laws, which determine it towards that end. All development supposes some
original elements to be unfolded or developed. Civilization is but the
development of humanity according to its primal idea and law, and under
the best exterior conditions. That the original elements of humanity
were unfolded in some noble degree under the influence of philosophy is
clear from the history of Greece; there the most favorable natural
conditions for that development existed, and Christianity alone was
needed to crown the result with ideal perfection.]

[Footnote 39: Max Muller, "Science of Language," p. 404, 2d series.]

Here the most perfect ideals of beauty and excellence in physical
development, in manners, in plastic art, in literary creations, were
realized. The songs of Homer, the dialogues of Plato, the speeches of
Demosthenes, and the statues of Phidias, if not unrivalled, are at least
unsurpassed by any thing that has been achieved by their successors.
Literature in its most flourishing periods has rekindled its torch at
her altars, and art has looked back to the age of Pericles for her
purest models. Here the ideas of personal liberty, of individual rights,
of freedom in thought and action, had a wonderful expansion. Here the
lasting foundations of the principal arts and sciences were laid, and in
some of them triumphs were achieved which have not been eclipsed. Here
the sun of human reason attained a meridian splendor, and illuminated
every field in the domain of moral truth. And here humanity reached the
highest degree of civilization of which it is capable under purely
_natural_ conditions.

And now, the question with which we are more immediately concerned is,
what were the specific and valuable results attained by the Athenian
mind in _religion_ and _philosophy_, the two momenta of the human mind?
This will be the subject of discussion in subsequent chapters.

The order in which the discussion shall proceed is determined for us by
the natural development of thought. The two fundamental momenta of
thought and its development are spontaneity and reflection, and the two
essential forms they assume are religion and philosophy. In the natural
order of thought spontaneity is first, and reflection succeeds
spontaneous thought. And so religion is first developed, and
subsequently comes philosophy. As religion supposes spontaneous
intuition, so philosophy has religion for its basis, but upon this basis
it is developed in an original manner. "Turn your attention to history,
that living image of thought: everywhere you perceive religions and
philosophies: everywhere you see them produced in an invariable order.
Everywhere religion appears with new societies, and everywhere, just so
far as societies advance, from religion springs philosophy."[40] This
was pre-eminently the case in Athens, and we shall therefore direct our
attention first to the Religion of the Athenians.

[Footnote 40: Cousin, "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 302.]




CHAPTER II.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION.


      All things which I behold bear witness to your carefulness
      in religion δεισιδαιμονεστέροις.--ST. PAUL.

As a prelude and preparation for the study of the religion of the
Athenians, it may be well to consider religion in its more abstract and
universal form; and inquire in what does religion essentially consist;
how far is it grounded in the nature of man; and especially, what is
there in the mental constitution of man, or in his exterior conditions,
which determines him to a mode of life which may be denominated
_religious?_ As a preliminary inquiry, this may materially aid us in
understanding the nature, and estimating the value of the religious
conceptions and sentiments which were developed by the Greek mind.

Religion, in its most generic conception, may be defined as a form of
thought, feeling, and action, which has the _Divine_ for its object,
basis, and end. Or, in other words, it is a mode of life determined by
the recognition of some relation to, and consciousness of dependence
upon, a _Supreme Being_. This general conception of religion underlies
all the specific forms of religion which have appeared in the world,
whether heathen, Jewish, Mohammedan, or Christian.

That a religious destination appertains to man as man, whether he has
been raised to a full religious consciousness, or is simply considered
as capable of being so raised, can not be denied. In all ages man has
revealed an instinctive tendency, or natural aptitude for religion, and
he has developed feelings and emotions which have always characterized
him as a religious being. Religious ideas and sentiments have prevailed
among all nations, and have exerted a powerful influence on the entire
course of human history. Religious worship, addressed to a Supreme Being
believed to control the destiny of man, has been coeval and coextensive
with the race. Every nation has had its mythology, and each mythologic
system has been simply an effort of humanity to realize and embody in
some visible form the relations in which it feels itself to be connected
with an external, overshadowing, and all-controlling Power and Presence.
The voice of all ancient, and all contemporaneous history, clearly
attests that the _religious principle_ is deeply seated in the nature of
man; and that it has occupied the thought, and stirred the feelings of
every rational man, in every age. It has interwoven itself with the
entire framework of human society, and ramified into all the relations
of human life. By its agency, nations have been revolutionized, and
empires have been overthrown; and it has formed a mighty element in all
the changes which have marked the history of man.

This universality of religious sentiment and religious worship must be
conceded as a fact of human nature, and, as a universal fact, it demands
an explanation. Every event must have a cause. Every phenomenon must
have its ground, and reason, and law. The facts of religious history,
the past and present religious phenomena of the world can be no
exception to this fundamental principle; they press their imperious
demand to be studied and explained, as much as the phenomena of the
material or the events of the moral world. The phenomena of religion,
being universally revealed wherever man is found, must be grounded in
some universal principle, on some original law, which is connate with,
and natural to man. At any rate, there must be something in the nature
of man, or in the exterior conditions of humanity, which invariably
leads man to worship, and which determines him, as by the force of an
original instinct, or an outward, conditioning necessity, to recognize
and bow down before a Superior Power. The full recognition and adequate
explanation of the facts of religious history will constitute a
_philosophy of religion_.

The hypotheses which have been offered in explanation of the religious
phenomena of the world are widely divergent, and most of them are, in
our judgment, eminently inadequate and unsatisfactory. The following
enumeration may be regarded as embracing all that are deemed worthy of
consideration.

I. The phenomenon of religion had its origin in SUPERSTITION, that is,
in a _fear_ of invisible and supernatural powers, generated by ignorance
of nature.

II. The phenomenon of religion is part of that PROCESS or EVOLUTION OF
THE ABSOLUTE (i.e., the Deity), which gradually unfolding itself in
nature, mind, history, and _religion_, attains to perfect
self-consciousness in philosophy.

III. The phenomenon of religion has its foundation in FEELING--_the
feeling of dependence and of obligation_; and that to which the mind, by
spontaneous intuition or instinctive faith, traces this dependence and
obligation we call God.

IV. The phenomenon of religion had its outbirth in the spontaneous
apperceptions of REASON, that is, the necessary _à priori ideas of the
Infinite, the Perfect, the Unconditioned Cause, the Eternal Being_,
which are evoked into consciousness in presence of the changeful and
contingent phenomena of the world.

V. The phenomenon of religion had its origin in EXTERNAL REVELATION, to
which _reason_ is related as a purely passive organ, and _heathenism_ as
a feeble relic.

As a philosophy of religion--an attempt to supply the rationale of the
religious phenomena of the world, the first hypothesis is a skeptical
philosophy, which necessarily leads to _Atheism_. The second is an
idealistic philosophy (absolute idealism), which inevitably lands in
_Pantheism_. The third is an intuitional or "faith-philosophy," which
finally ends in _Mysticism_. The fourth is a rationalistic or
"spiritualistic" philosophy, which yields pure _Theism_. The last is an
empirical philosophy, which derives all religion from instruction, and
culminates in _Dogmatic Theology_.

In view of these diverse and conflicting theories, the question which
now presents itself for our consideration is,--does any one of these
hypotheses meet and satisfy the demands of the problem? does it fully
account for and adequately explain all the facts of religious history?
The answer to this question must not be hastily or dogmatically given.
The arbitrary rejection of any theory that may be offered, without a
fair and candid examination, will leave our minds in uncertainty and
doubt as to the validity of our own position. A blind faith is only one
remove from a pusillanimous skepticism. We can not render our own
position secure except by comprehending, assaulting, and capturing the
position of our foe. It is, therefore, due to ourselves and to the cause
of truth, that we shall examine the evidence upon which each separate
theory is based, and the arguments which are marshalled in its support,
before we pronounce it inadequate and unphilosophical. Such a criticism
of opposite theories will prepare the way for the presentation of a
philosophy of religion which we flatter ourselves will be found most in
harmony with all the facts of the case.

I. _It is affirmed that the religious phenomena of the world had their
origin in_ SUPERSTITION, _that is, in a fear of unseen and supernatural
powers, generated from ignorance of nature_.

This explanation was first offered by Epicurus. He felt that the
universality of the religious sentiment is a fact which demands a cause;
and he found it, or presumed he found it not in a spiritual God, which
he claims can not exist, nor in corporeal god which no one has seen, but
in "phantoms of the mind generated by fear." When man has been unable to
explain any natural phenomenon, to assign a cause within the sphere of
nature, he has had recourse to supernatural powers, or living
personalities behind nature, which move and control nature in an
arbitrary and capricious manner. These imaginary powers are supposed to
be continually interfering in the affairs of individuals and nations.
They bestow blessings or inflict calamities. They reward virtue and
punish vice. They are, therefore, the objects of "sacred awe" and
"superstitious fear."

                           Whate'er in heaven,
     In earth, man sees mysterious, shakes his mind
     With sacred awe o'erwhelms him, and his soul
     Bows to the dust; the cause of things conceal
     Once from his vision, instant to the gods
     All empire he transfers, all rule supreme,
     And doubtful whence they spring, with headlong haste
     Calls them the workmanship of power divine.
     For he who, justly, deems the Immortals live
     Safe, and at ease, yet fluctuates in his mind
     How things are swayed; how, chiefly, those discerned
     In heaven sublime--to SUPERSTITION back
     Lapses, and fears a tyrant host, and then
     Conceives, dull reasoner, they can all things do,
     While yet himself nor knows what may be done,
     Nor what may never, nature powers defined
     Stamping on all, and bounds that none can pass:
     Hence wide, and wider errs he as he walks.[41]

[Footnote 41: Lucretius, "De Natura Rerum," book vi. vs. 50-70.]

In order to rid men of all superstitious fear, and, consequently, of all
religion, Epicurus endeavors to show that "nature" alone is adequate to
the production of all things, and there is no need to drag in a "divine
power" to explain the phenomena of the world.

This theory has been wrought into a somewhat plausible form by the
brilliant and imposing generalizations of Aug. Comte. The religious
phenomena of the world are simply one stage in the necessary development
of mind, whether in the individual or the race. He claims to have been
the first to discover the great law of the three successive stages or
phases of human evolution. That law is thus enounced. Both in the
individual mind, and in the history of humanity, thought, in dealing
with its problems, passes, of necessity, through, first, a
_Theological_, second, a _Metaphysical_, and finally reaches a third, or
_Positive_ stage.

In attempting an explanation of the universe, human thought, in its
earliest stages of development, resorts to the idea of living personal
agents enshrined in and moving every object, whether organic or
inorganic, natural or artificial. In an advanced stage, it conceives a
number of personal beings distinct from, and superior to nature, which
preside over the different provinces of nature--the sea, the air, the
winds, the rivers, the heavenly bodies, and assume the guardianship of
individuals, tribes, and nations. As a further, and still higher stage,
it asserts the unity of the Supreme Power which moves and vitalizes the
universe, and guides and governs in the affairs of men and nations. The
_Theological_ stage is thus subdivided into three epochs, and
represented as commencing in _Fetichism_, then advancing to
_Polytheism_, and, finally, consummating in _Monotheism_.

The next stage, the _Metaphysical_, is a transitional stage, in which
man substitutes abstract entities, as substance, force, Being _in se_,
the Infinite, the Absolute, in the place of theological conceptions.
During this period all theological opinions undergo a process of
disintegration, and lose their hold on the mind of man. Metaphysical
speculation is a powerful solvent, which decomposes and dissipates
theology.

It is only in the last--the _Positive_ stage--that man becomes willing
to relinquish all theological ideas and metaphysical notions, and
confine his attention to the study of phenomena in their relation to
time and space; discarding all inquiries as to causes, whether efficient
or final, and denying the existence of all entities and powers beyond
nature.

The first stage, in its religious phase, is _Theistic_, the second is
_Pantheistic_, the last is _Atheistic_.

The proofs offered by Comte in support of this theory are derived:

I. _From Cerebral Organization_. There are three grand divisions of the
Brain, the Medulla Oblongata, the Cerebellum, and the Cerebrum; the
first represents the merely animal instincts the second, the more
elevated sentiments, the third, the intellectual powers. Human nature
must, therefore, both in the individual and in the race, be developed in
the following order: (1.) in animal instincts; (2.) in social affections
and communal tendencies; (3.) in intellectual pursuits. Infant life is a
merely animal existence, shared in common with the brute; in childhood
the individual being realizes his relation to external nature and human
society; in youth and manhood he compares, generalizes, and classifies
the objects of knowledge, and attains to science. And so the infancy of
our race was a mere animal or savage state, the childhood of our race
the organization of society, the youth and manhood of our race the
development of science.

Now, without offering any opinion as to the merits of the phrenological
theories of Gall and Spurzheim, we may ask, what relation has this order
to the law of development presented by Comte? Is there any imaginable
connection between animal propensities and theological ideas; between
social affections and metaphysical speculations? Are not the
intellectual powers as much concerned with theological ideas and
metaphysical speculations as with positive science? And is it not more
probable, more in accordance with facts, that all the powers of the
mind, instinct, feeling, and thought, enter into action simultaneously,
and condition each other? The very first act of perception, the first
distinct cognition of an object, involves _thought_ as much as the last
generalization of science. We know nothing of _mind_ except as the
development of thought, and the first unfolding, even of the infant
mind, reveals an intellectual act, a discrimination between a self and
an object which is not self, and a recognition of resemblance, or
difference between _this_ object and _that_. And what does Positive
science, in its most mature and perfect form, claim to do more than "to
study actual phenomena in their orders of resemblance, coexistence, and
succession."

Cerebral organization may furnish plausible analogies in favor of some
theory of human development, but certainly not the one proposed by Aug.
Comte. The attempt, however, to construct a chart of human history on
such an _à priori_ method,--to construct an ideal framework into which
human nature must necessarily grow, is a violation of the first and most
fundamental principle of the Positive science, which demands that we
shall confine ourselves strictly to the study of actual phenomena in
their orders of resemblance, coexistence, and succession. The history of
the human race must be based on facts, not on hypotheses, and the facts
must be ascertained by the study of ancient records and existing
monuments of the past. Mere plausible analogies and _à priori_ theories
based upon them, are only fitted to mislead the mind; they insert a
prism between the perceiving mind and the course of events which
decomposes the pure white light of fact, and throws a false light over
the entire field of history.

2. _The second order of proof is attempted to be drawn from the
analogies of individual experience_.

It is claimed that the history of the race is the same as that of each
individual mind; and it is affirmed that man is _religious_ in infancy,
_metaphysical_ in youth, and _positive_, that is, scientific without
being religious, in mature manhood; the history of the race must
therefore have followed the same order.

We are under no necessity of denying that there is some analogy between
the development of mind in the individual man, and in humanity as a
whole, in order to refute the theory of Comte. Still, it must not be
overlooked that the development of mind, in all cases and in all ages,
is materially affected by exterior conditions. The influence of
geographical and climatic conditions, of social and national
institutions, and especially of education, however difficult to be
estimated, can not be utterly disregarded. And whether all these
influences have not been controlled, and collocated, and adjusted by a
Supreme Mind in the education of humanity, is also a question which can
not be pushed aside as of no consequence. Now, unless it can be shown
that the same outward conditions which have accompanied the individual
and modified his mental development, have been repealed in the history
of the race, and repeated in the same order of succession, the argument
has no value.

But, even supposing it could be shown that the development of mind in
humanity has followed the same order as that of the individual, we
confidently affirm that Comte has not given the true history of the
development of the individual mind. The account he has given may perhaps
be the history of his own mental progress, but it certainly is not the
history of every individual mind, nor indeed, of a majority even, of
educated minds that have arrived at maturity. It would be much more in
harmony with facts to say childhood is the period of pure receptivity,
youth of doubt and skepticism, and maturity of well-grounded and
rational belief. In the ripeness and maturity of the nineteenth century
the number of scientific men of the Comtean model is exceedingly small
compared with the number of religious men. There are minds in every part
of Europe and America as thoroughly scientific as that of Comte, and as
deeply imbued with the spirit of the Inductive Philosophy, which are not
conscious of any discordance between the facts of science and the
fundamental principles of theology. It may be that, in his own immediate
circle at Paris there may be a tendency to Atheism, but certainly no
such tendency exists in the most scientific minds of Europe and America.
The faith of Bacon, and Newton, and Boyle, of Descartes, Leibnitz, and
Pascal, in regard to the fundamental principles of theology, is still
the faith of Sedgwick, Whewell, Herschel, Brewster, Owen, Agassiz,
Silliman, Mitchell, Hitchcock, Dana, and, indeed of the leading
scientific minds of the world--the men who, as Comte would say, "belong
to the élite of humanity." The mature mind, whether of the individual or
the race, is not Atheistical.

3. _The third proof is drawn from a survey of the history of certain
portions of our race._

Comte is far from being assured that the progress of humanity, under the
operation of his grand law of development, has been uniform and
invariable. The majority of the human race, the vast populations of
India, China, and Japan, have remained stationary; they are still in the
Theological stage, and consequently furnish no evidence in support of
his theory. For this reason he confines himself to the "élite" or
advance-guard of humanity, and in this way makes the history of humanity
a very "abstract history" indeed. Starting with Greece as the
representative of ancient civilization, passing thence to Roman
civilization, and onward to Western Europe, he attempts to show that the
actual progress of humanity has been, on the whole, in conformity with
his law. To secure, however, even this semblance of harmony between the
facts of history and his hypothetical law, he has to treat the facts
very much as Procrustes treated his victims,--he must stretch some, and
mutilate others, so as to make their forms fit the iron bed. The natural
organization of European civilization is distorted and torn asunder. "As
the third or positive stage had accomplished its advent in his own
person, it was necessary to find the metaphysical period just before;
and so the whole life of the Reformed Christianity, in embryo and in
manifest existence, is stripped of its garb of _faith_, and turned out
of view as a naked metaphysical phenomenon. But metaphysics, again, have
to be ushered in by theology; and of the three stages of theology
Monotheism is the last, necessarily following on Polytheism, as that,
again, on Fetichism. There is nothing for it, therefore, but to let the
mediæval Catholic Christianity stand as the world's first monotheism,
and to treat it as the legitimate offspring and necessary development of
the Greek and Roman polytheism. This, accordingly, Comte actually does.
Protestantism he illegitimates, and outlaws from religion altogether,
and the genuine Christianity he fathers upon the faith of Homer and the
Scipios! Once or twice, indeed, it seems to cross him that there was
such a people as the Hebrews, and that they were not the polytheists
they ought to have been. He sees the fact, but pushes it out of his way
with the remark that the Jewish monotheism was 'premature.'"[42]

[Footnote 42: Martineau's Essays, pp. 61, 62.]

The signal defect of Comte's historical survey, however, is, that it
furnishes no evidence of the general prevalence of Fetichism in
primitive times. The writings of Moses are certainly entitled to as much
consideration and credence as the writings of Berosus, Manetho, and
Herodotus; and, it will not be denied, they teach that the faith of the
earliest families and races of men was _monotheistic_. The early Vedas,
the Institutes of Menu, the writings of Confucius, the Zendavesta, all
bear testimony that the ancient faith of India, China, and Persia, was,
at any rate, pantheistic; and learned and trustworthy critics, Asiatic
as well as European, confidently affirm that the ground of the
Brahminical, Buddhist, and Parsist faith is _monotheistic_; and that
_one_ Being is assumed, in the earliest books, to be the origin of all
things.[43] Without evidence, Comte assumes that the savage state is the
original condition of man; and instead of going to Asia, the cradle of
the race, for some light as to the early condition and opinions of the
remotest families of men, he turns to Africa, the _soudan_ of the earth,
for his illustration of the habit of man, in the infancy of our race, to
endow every object in nature, whether organic or inorganic, with life
and intelligence. The theory of a primitive state of ignorance and
barbarism is a mere assumption--an hypothesis in conflict with the
traditionary legends of all nations, the earliest records of our race,
and the unanimous voice of antiquity, which attest the general belief in
a primitive state of light and innocence.

[Footnote 43: "The Religions of the World in their Relation to
Christianity" (Maurice, ch. ii., iii., iv.).]

The three stages of development which Comte describes as necessarily
successive, have, for centuries past, been simultaneous. The
theological, the metaphysical, and the scientific elements coexist now,
and there is no real, radical, or necessary conflict between them.
Theological and metaphysical ideas hold their ground as securely under
the influence of enlarged scientific discovery as before; and there is
no reason to suppose they ever had more power over the mind of man than
they have to-day. The notion that God is dethroned by the wonderful
discoveries of modern science, and theology is dead, is the dream of the
"_profond orage cérébral_" which interrupted the course of Comte's
lectures in 1826. As easily may the hand of Positivism arrest the course
of the sun, as prevent the instinctive thought of human reason
recognizing and affirming the existence of a God. And so long as ever
the human mind is governed by necessary laws of thought, so long will it
seek...

[Transcriber's note: In the original document, page 64 is a duplication
of page 63. The real page 64 seems to be missing.]

....eur, and consequently to develop its true philosophy. Its
fundamental error is the assumption that all our knowledge is confined
to the observation and classification of sensible phenomena--that is, to
changes perceptible by the senses. Psychology, based, as it is, upon
self-observation and self-reflection, is a "mere illusion; and logic and
ethics, so far as they are built upon it as their foundation, are
altogether baseless." Spiritual entities, forces, causes, efficient or
final, are unknown and unknowable; all inquiry regarding them must be
inhibited, "for Theology is inevitable if we permit the inquiry into
causes at all."

II. The second hypothesis offered in explanation of the facts of
religious history is, _that religion is part of that_ PROCESS OR
EVOLUTION OF THE ABSOLUTE (_i.e._, the Deity) _which, gradually
unfolding itself in nature, mind, history, and religion, attains to the
fullest self-consciousness in philosophy_.

This is the theory of Hegel, in whose system of philosophy the
subjective idealism of Kant culminates in the doctrine of "_Absolute
Identity_." Its fundamental position is that thought and being, subject
and object, the perceiving mind and the thing perceived, are ultimately
and essentially _one_, and that the only actual reality is that which
results from their mutual relation. The outward thing is nothing, the
inward perception is nothing, for neither could exist alone; the only
reality is the relation, or rather synthesis of the two; the essence or
nature of being in itself accordingly consists in the coexistence of two
contrarieties. Ideas, arising from the union or synthesis of two
opposites, are therefore the _concrete realities_ of Hegel; and the
_process_ of the evolution of ideas, in the human mind, is the process
of all existence--_the Absolute Idea_.

_The Absolute_(die Idée) thus forms the beginning, middle, and end of
the system of Hegel. It is the one infinite existence or thought, of
which nature, mind, history, religion, and philosophy, are the
manifestation. "The absolute is, with him, not the infinite _substance_,
as with Spinoza; nor the infinite _subject_, as with Fichte; nor the
infinite _mind_, as with Schelling; it is a perpetual _process_, an
eternal thinking, without beginning and without end."[44] This _living,
eternal process of absolute existence is the God of Hegel_.

It will thus be seen that the _Absolute_ is, with Hegel, the sum of all
actual and possible existence; "nothing is true and real except so far
as it forms an element of the Absolute Spirit."[45] "What kind of an
Absolute Being," he asks, "is that which does not contain in itself all
that is actual, even evil included?"[46] The Absolute, therefore, in
Hegel's conception, does not allow of any existence out of itself. It is
the _unity_ of the finite and the infinite, the eternal and the
temporal, the ideal and the real, the subject and the object. And it is
not only the unity of these opposites so as to exclude all difference,
but it contains in itself, all the differences and opposites as elements
of its being; otherwise the distinctions would stand over against
absolute as a limit, and the absolute would cease to be absolute.

God is, therefore, according to Hegel, "no motionless, eternally
self-identical and unchangeable being, but a living, eternal _process_
of absolute self-existence. This process consists in the eternal
self-distinction, or antithesis, and equally self-reconciliation or
synthesis of those opposites which enter, as necessary elements, into
the constitution of the Divine Being. This _self-evolution_, whereby the
absolute enters into antithesis, and returns to itself again, is the
eternal _self-actualization_ of its being, and which at once constitutes
the beginning, middle, and end, as in the circle, where the beginning is
at the same time the end, and the end the beginning."[47]

[Footnote 44: Morell, "Hist, of Philos., p. 461."]

[Footnote 45: "Philos. of Religion," p. 204.]

[Footnote 46: Ibid., chap. xi. p. 24.]

[Footnote 47: Herzog's _Real-Encyc._, art. "Hegelian Philos.," by
Ulrici.]

The whole philosophy of Hegel consists in the development of this idea
of God by means of his, so-called, dialectic method, which reflects the
objective life-process of the Absolute, and is, in fact, identical with
it; for God, says he, "is only the Absolute Intelligence in so far as he
knows himself to be the Absolute Intelligence, _and this he knows only
in science_ [dialectics], _and this knowledge alone constitutes his true
existence._"[48] This life-process of the Absolute has three "moments."
It may be considered as the idea _in itself_--bare, naked, undetermined,
unconscious idea; as the idea _out of itself_, in its objective form, or
in its differentiation; and, finally, as the idea _in itself_, and _for
itself_, in its regressive or reflective form. This movement of thought
gives, _first_, bare, naked, indeterminate thought, or thought in the
mere antithesis of Being and non-Being; _secondly_, thought
externalizing itself in nature; and, _thirdly_, thought returning to
itself, and knowing itself in mind, or consciousness. Philosophy has,
accordingly, three corresponding divisions:--1. LOGIC, which here is
identical with metaphysics; 2. PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE; 3. PHILOSOPHY OF
MIND.

[Footnote 48: "Hist, of Philos.," iii. p. 399.]

It is beyond our design to present an expanded view of the entire
philosophy of Hegel. But as he has given to the world a _new_ logic, it
may be needful to glance at its general features as a help to the
comprehension of his philosophy of religion. The fundamental law of his
logic is the _identity of contraries or contradictions_. All thought is
a synthesis of contraries or opposites. This antithesis not only exists
in all ideas, but constitutes them. In every idea we form, there must be
_two_ things opposed and distinguished, in order to afford a clear
conception. Light can not be conceived but as the opposite of darkness;
good can not be thought except in opposition to evil. All life, all
reality is thus, essentially, the union of two elements, which,
together, are mutually opposed to, and yet imply each other.

The identity of Being and Nothing is one of the consequences of this
law.

1. _The Absolute is the Being_ (das Absolute ist das Seyn), and "the
Being" is here, according to Hegel, bare, naked, abstract,
undistinguished, indeterminate, unconscious idea.

2. _The Absolute is the Nothing_ (das Absolute ist das Nichts). "Pure
being is pure abstraction, and consequently the absolute-negative, which
in like manner, directly taken, is _nothing_." Being and Nothing are the
positive and negative poles of the Idea, that is, the Absolute. They
both alike exist, they are both pure abstractions, both absolutely
unconditioned, without attributes, and without consciousness. Hence
follows the conclusion--

3. _Being and Nothing are identical_ (das Seyn und das Nichts ist
dasselbe), Being is non-Being. Non-Being _is_ Being--the
Anders-seyn--which becomes _as_ Being to the Seyn. Nothing is, in some
sense, an actual thing.

_Being_ and _Nothing_ are thus the two elements which enter into the one
Absolute Idea as contradictories, and both together combine to form a
complete notion of bare production, or the _becoming_ of something out
of nothing,--the unfolding of real existence in its lowest form, that
is, of _nature_.

The "_Philosophy of Nature_" exhibits a series of necessary movements
which carry the idea forward in the ascending scale of sensible
existence. The laws of mechanics, chemistry, and physiology are resolved
into a series of oppositions. But the law which governs this development
requires the self-reconciliation of these opposites. The idea,
therefore, which in nature was unconscious and ignorant of itself,
returns upon itself, and becomes conscious of itself, that is, becomes
_mind_. The science of the regression or self-reflection of the idea, is
the "_Philosophy of Mind_."

The "_Philosophy of Mind_" is subdivided by Hegel into three parts.
There is, first, the subjective or individual mind (_psychology_); then
the objective or universal mind, as represented in society, the state,
and in history (_ethics, political philosophy,_ or _jurisprudence_, and
_philosophy of history_); and, finally, the union of the subjective and
objective mind, or _the absolute mind_. This last manifests itself again
under three forms, representing the three degrees of the
self-consciousness of the Spirit, as the eternal truth. These are,
first, _art_, or the representation of beauty (æsthetics); secondly,
_religion_, in the general acceptation of the term (philosophy of
religion); and, thirdly, _philosophy_ itself, as the purest and most
perfect form of the scientific knowledge of truth. All historical
religions, the Oriental, the Jewish, the Greek, the Roman, and the
Christian, are _the successive stages in the development or
self-actualization of God_.[49]

It is unnecessary to indicate to the reader that the philosophy of Hegel
is essentially pantheistic. "God is not a _person_, but personality
itself, _i.e._, the universal personality, which realizes itself in
every human consciousness, as so many separate thoughts of one eternal
mind. The idea we form of the absolute is, to Hegel, the absolute
itself, its essential existence being identical with our conception of
it. Apart from, and out of the world, there is no God; and so also,
apart from the universal consciousness of man, there is no Divine
consciousness or personality."[50]

[Footnote 49: See art. "Hegelian Philosophy," in Herzog's _Real-Encyc._,
from whence our materials are chiefly drawn.]

[Footnote 50: Morell, "Hist. of Philos.," p. 473.]

This whole conception of religion, however, is false, and conflicts with
the actual facts of man's religious nature and religious history. If the
word "religion" has any meaning at all, it is "a mode of life determined
by the consciousness of dependence upon, and obligation to God." It is
reverence for, gratitude to, and worship of God as a being distinct from
humanity. But in the philosophy of Hegel religion is a part of God--a
stage in the development or self-actualization of God. Viewed under one
aspect, religion is the self-adoration of God--the worship of God by
God; under another aspect it is the worship of humanity, since God only
becomes conscious of himself in humanity. The fundamental fallacy is
that upon which his entire method proceeds, viz., "the identity of
subject and object, being and thought." Against this false position the
consciousness of each individual man, and the universal consciousness of
our race, as revealed in history, alike protest. If thought and being
are identical, then whatever is true of ideas is also true of objects,
and then, as Kant had before remarked, there is no difference between
_thinking_ we possess a hundred dollars, and actually _possessing_ them.
Such absurdities may be rendered plausible by a logic which asserts the
"identity of contradictions," but against such logic common sense
rebels. "The law of non-contradiction" has been accepted by all
logicians, from the days of Aristotle, as a fundamental law of thought.
"Whatever is contradictory is unthinkable. A=not A=O, or A--A=O."[51]
Non-existence can not exist. Being can not be nothing.

[Footnote 51: Hamilton's Logic, p. 58.]

III. The third hypothesis affirms _that the phenomenon of religion has
its foundation in_ FEELING--_the feeling of dependence and of
obligation_; and that to which the mind, by spontaneous intuition of
instinctive faith, traces that dependence and obligation we call God.

This, with some slight modification in each case, consequent upon the
differences in their philosophic systems, is the theory of Jacobi,
Schleiermacher, Nitzsch, Mansel, and probably Hamilton. Its fundamental
position is, that we can not gain truth with absolute certainty either
from sense or reason, and, consequently, the only valid source of real
knowledge is _feeling--faith, intuition_, or, as it is called by some,
_inspiration_.

There have been those, in all ages, who have made all knowledge of
invisible, supersensuous, divine things, to rest upon an internal
_feeling_, or immediate, inward vision. The Oriental Mystics, the
Neo-Platonists, the Mystics of the Greek and Latin Church, the German
Mystics of the 14th century, the Theosophists of the Reformation, the
Quietists of France, the Quakers, have all appealed to some _special_
faculty, distinct from the understanding and reason, for the immediate
cognition of invisible and spiritual existences. By some, that special
faculty was regarded as an "interior eye" which was illuminated by the
"Universal Light;" by others, as a peculiar sensibility of the soul--a
_feeling_ in whose perfect calm and utter quiescence the Divinity was
mirrored; or which, in an ecstatic state, rose to a communion with, and
final absorption in the Infinite.

Jacobi was the first, in modern times, to give the "faith-philosophy,"
as it is now designated, a definite form. He assumes the position that
all knowledge, of whatever kind, must ultimately rest upon intuition or
faith. As it regards sensible objects, the understanding finds the
impression from which all our knowledge of the external flows, ready
formed. The process of sensation is a mystery; we know nothing of it
until it is past, and the feeling it produces is present. Our knowledge
of matter, therefore, rests upon faith in these intuitions. We can not
doubt that the feeling has an objective cause. In every act of
perception there is something actual and present, which can not be
referred to a mere subjective law of thought. We are also conscious of
another class of feelings which correlate us with a supersensuous world,
and these feelings, also, must have their cause in some objective
reality. Just as sensation gives us an immediate knowledge of an
external world, so there is an internal sense which gives us an
immediate knowledge of a spiritual world--God, the soul, freedom,
immortality. Our knowledge of the invisible world, like our knowledge of
the visible world, is grounded upon faith in our intuitions. All
philosophic knowledge is thus based upon _belief_, which Jacobi regards
as a fact of our inward sensibility--a sort of knowledge produced by an
immediate _feeling_ of the soul--a direct apprehension, without proof,
of the True, the Supersensuous, the Eternal.

Jacobi prepared the way for, and was soon eclipsed by the deservedly
greater name of Schleiermacher. His fundamental position was that truth
in Theology could not be obtained by reason, but by a feeling,
_insight_, or intuition, which in its lowest form he called
_God-consciousness_, and in its highest form, _Christian-consciousness._
The God-consciousness, in its original form, is the _feeling of
dependence_ on the Infinite. The Christian consciousness is the perfect
union of the human consciousness with the Divine, through the mediation
of Christ, or what we would call a Christian experience of communion
with God.

Rightly to understand the position of Schleiermacher we must take
account of his doctrine of _self_-consciousness. "In all
self-consciousness," says he, "there are two elements, a Being ein Seyn,
and a Somehow-having-become (Irgendweigewordenseyn). The last, however,
presupposes, for every self-consciousness, besides the ego, yet
something else from whence the certainty of the same
[self-consciousness] exists, and without which self-consciousness would
not be just this."[52] Every determinate mode of the sensibility
supposes an _object_, and a _relation_ between the subject and the
object, the subjective feeling deriving its determinations from the
object. External sensation, the feeling, say of extension and
resistance, gives world-consciousness. Internal sensation, the _feeling
of dependence_, gives God consciousness. And it is only by the presence
of world consciousness and God-consciousness that self consciousness can
be what it is.

We have, then, in our self-consciousness a _feeling of direct
dependence_, and that to which our minds instinctively trace that
dependence we call God. "By means of the religious feeling, the Primal
Cause is revealed in us, as in perception, the things external, are
revealed in us."[53] The _felt_, therefore, is not only the first
religious sense, but the ruling, abiding, and perfect form of the
religious spirit; whatever lays any claim to religion must maintain its
ground and principle in _feeling_, upon which it depends for its
development; and the sum-total of the forces constituting religious
life, inasmuch as it is a _life_, is based upon immediate
self-consciousness.[54]

[Footnote 52: Glaubenslehre, ch. i. § 4.]

[Footnote 53: Dialectic, p. 430.]

[Footnote 54: Nitzsch, "System of Doctrine," p. 23.]

The doctrine of Schleiermacher is somewhat modified by Mansel, in his
"_Limits of Religious Thought_." He maintains, with Schleiermacher, that
religion is grounded in _feeling_, and that the _felt_ is the first
intimation or presentiment of the Divine. Man "_feels_ within him the
consciousness of a Supreme Being, and the instinct to worship, before he
can argue from effects to causes, or estimate the traces of wisdom and
benevolence scattered through the creation."[55] He also agrees with
Schleiermacher in regarding the _feeling of dependence_ as _a_ state of
the sensibility, out of which reflection builds up the edifice of
Religious Consciousness, but he does not, with Schleiermacher, regard it
as pre-eminently _the_ basis of religious consciousness. "The mere
consciousness of dependence does not, of itself, exhibit the character
of the Being on whom we depend. It is as consistent with superstition as
with religion; with the belief in a malevolent, as in a benevolent
Deity."[56] To the feeling of dependence he has added the _consciousness
of moral obligation_, which he imagines supplies the deficiency. By this
consciousness of moral obligation "we are compelled to assume the
existence of a moral Deity, and to regard the absolute standard of right
and wrong as constituted by the nature of that Deity."[57] "To these two
facts of the inner consciousness the feeling of dependence, and
consciousness of moral obligation may be traced, as to their sources,
the two great outward acts by which religion, in its various forms, has
been manifested among men--_Prayer_, by which they seek to win God's
blessing upon the future, and _Expiation_, by which they strive to atone
for the offenses of the past. The feeling of dependence is the instinct
which urges us to pray. It is the feeling that our existence and welfare
are in the hands of a superior power; not an inexorable fate, not an
immutable law; but a Being having at least so far the attribute of
personality that he can show favor or severity to those who are
dependent upon Him, and can be regarded by them with feelings of hope
and fear, and reverence and gratitude."[58] The feeling of moral
obligation--"the law written in the heart"--leads man to recognize a
Lawgiver. "Man can be a law unto himself only on the supposition that he
reflects in himself the law of God."[59] The conclusion from the whole
is, there must be an _object_ answering to this consciousness: there
must be a God to explain these facts of the soul.

[Footnote 55: Mansel, "Limits of Religious Thought," p. 115.]

[Footnote 56: Id., ib., p. 120.]

[Footnote 57: Id., ib., p. 122.]

[Footnote 58: Id., ib., pp. 119, 120.]

[Footnote 59: Id., ib., p. 122.]

This "philosophy of feeling," or of faith generated by feeling, has an
interest and a significance which has not been adequately recognized by
writers on natural theology. Feeling, sentiment, enthusiasm, have always
played an important part in the history of religion. Indeed it must be
conceded that religion is a _right state of feeling towards
God_--religion is _piety_. A philosophy of the religious emotion is,
therefore, demanded in order to the full interpretation of the religious
phenomena of the world.

But the notion that internal feeling, a peculiar determination of the
sensibility, is the source of religious ideas:--that God can be known
immediately by feeling without the mediation of the truth that manifests
God; that he can be _felt_ as the qualities of matter can be felt; and
that this affection of the inward sense can reveal the character and
perfections of God, is an unphilosophical and groundless assumption. To
assert, with Nitzsch, that "feeling has reason, and is reason, and that
the sensible and felt God-consciousness generates out of itself
fundamental conceptions," is to confound the most fundamental
psychological distinctions, and arbitrarily bend the recognized
classifications of mental science to the necessities of a theory.
Indeed, we are informed that it is "by means of an _independent_
psychology, and conformably to it," that Schleiermacher illustrates his
"philosophy of feeling."[60] But all psychology must be based upon the
observation and classification of mental phenomena, as revealed in
consciousness, and not constructed in an "independent" and à priori
method. The most careful psychological analysis has resolved the whole
complex phenomena of mind into thought, feeling, and volition.[61] These
orders of phenomena are radically and essentially distinct. They differ
not simply in degree but in kind, and it is only by an utter disregard
of the facts of consciousness that they can be confounded. Feeling is
not reason, nor can it by any logical dexterity be transformed into
reason.

[Footnote 60: Nitzsch, "System of Doctrine," p. 21.]

[Footnote 61: Kant, "Critique of Judg.," ch. xxii.; Cousin, "Hist, of
Philos.," vol. ii. p. 399; Hamilton, vol. i. p. 183, Eng. ed.]

The question as to the relative order of cognition and feeling, that is,
as to whether feeling is the first or original form of the religious
consciousness, or whether feeling be not consequent upon some idea or
cognition of God, is one which can not be determined on empirical
grounds. We are precluded from all scrutiny of the incipient stages of
mental development in the individual mind and in collective humanity. If
we attempt to trace the early history of the soul, its beginnings are
lost in a period of blank unconsciousness, beyond all scrutiny of memory
or imagination. If we attempt the inquiry on the wider field of
universal consciousness, the first unfoldings of mind in humanity are
lost in the border-land of mystery, of which history furnishes no
authentic records. All dogmatic affirmation must, therefore, be
unjustifiable. The assertion that religious feeling precedes all
cognition,--that "the consciousness of dependence on a Supreme Being,
and the instinct of worship" are developed _first_ in the mind, before
the reason is exercised, is utterly groundless. The more probable
doctrine is that all the primary faculties enter into spontaneous action
_simultaneously_--the reason with the senses, the feelings with the
reason, the judgment with both the senses and the reason, and that from
their primary and simultaneous action arises the complex result, called
consciousness, or conjoint knowledge.[62] There can be no clear and
distinct consciousness without the cognition of a _self_ and a
_not-self_ in mutual relation and opposition. Now the knowledge of the
self--the personal ego--is an intuition of reason; the knowledge of the
not-self is an intuition of sense. All knowledge is possible only under
condition of plurality, difference, and relation.[63] Now the judgment
is "the Faculty of Relations," or of comparison; and the affirmation
"_this_ is not _that_" is an act of judgment; to know is, consequently,
to judge.[64] Self-consciousness must, therefore, be regarded as a
synthesis of sense, reason, and judgment, and not a mere self-feeling
(cœnæsthesis).

[Footnote 62: Cousin, "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 357; vol. ii. p.
337.]

[Footnote 63: Id., ib., vol. i. p. 88.]

[Footnote 64: Hamilton, "Metaphys.," p. 277]

A profound analysis will further lead to the conclusion that if ideas of
reason are not chronologically antecedent to sensation, they are, at
least, the logical antecedents of all cognition. The mere feeling of
resistance can not give the notion of without the à priori idea of
space. The feeling of movement of change, can not give the cognition of
event without the rational idea of time or duration. Simple
consciousness can not generate the idea of personality, or selfhood,
without the rational idea of identity or unity. And so the mere "feeling
of dependence," of finiteness and imperfection, can not give the idea of
God, without the rational à priori idea of the Infinite, the Perfect,
the Unconditioned Cause. Sensation is not knowledge, and never can
become knowledge, without the intervention of reason, and a concentrated
self feeling can not rise essentially above animal life until it has,
through the mediation of reason, attained the idea of the existence of a
Supreme Being ruling over nature and man.

Mere feeling is essentially blind. In its _pathological_ form, it may
indicate a want, and even develop an unconscious appetency, but it can
not, itself, reveal an _object_, any more than the feeling of hunger can
reveal the actual presence, or determine the character and fitness, of
any food. An undefinable fear, a mysterious presentiment, an instinctive
yearning, a hunger of the soul, these are all irrational emotions which
can never rise to the dignity of knowledge. An object must be conjured
by the imagination, or conceived by the understanding, or intuitively
apprehended by the reason, before the feeling can have any significance.

Regarded in its _moral_ form, as "the feeling of obligation," it can
have no real meaning unless a "law of duty" be known and recognized.
Feeling, alone, can not reveal what duty is. When that which is right,
and just, and good is revealed to the mind, then the sense of obligation
may urge man to the performance of duty. But the right, the just, the
good, are ideas which are apprehended by the reason, and, consequently,
our moral sentiments are the result of the harmonious and living
relation between the reason and the sensibilities.

Mr. Mansel asserts the inadequacy of Schleiermacher's "feeling of
dependence" to reveal the character of the Being on whom we depend. He
has therefore supplemented his doctrine by the "feeling of moral
obligation," which he thinks "compels us to _assume_ the existence of a
moral Deity." We think his "fact of religious intuition" is as
inadequate as Schleiermacher's to explain the whole phenomena of
religion. In neither instance does feeling supply the actual knowledge
of God. The feeling of dependence may indicate that there is a Power or
Being upon whom we depend for existence and well-being, and which Power
or Being "we call God." The feeling of obligation certainly indicates
the existence of a Being to whom we are accountable, and which Being Mr.
Mansel calls a "moral Deity." But in both instances the character, and
even the existence of God is "_assumed_" and we are entitled to ask on
what ground it is assumed. It will not be asserted that feeling alone
generates the idea, or that the feeling is transformed into idea without
the intervention of thought and reflection. Is there, then, a _logical_
connection between the feeling of dependence and of obligation, and the
idea of the Uncreated Mind, the Infinite First Cause, the Righteous
Governor of the world. Or is there a fixed and changeless co-relation
between _the feeling_ and the _idea_, so that when the feeling is
present, the idea also necessarily arises in the mind? This latter
opinion seems to be the doctrine of Mansel. We accept it as the
statement of a fact of consciousness, but we can not regard it as an
account of the genesis of the idea of God in the human mind. The idea of
God as the First Cause, the Infinite Mind, the Perfect Being, the
personal Lord and Lawgiver, the creator, sustainer, and ruler of the
world, is not a simple, primitive intuition of the mind. It is
manifestly a complex, concrete idea, and, as such, can not be developed
in consciousness, by the operation of a single faculty of the mind, in a
simple, undivided act. It originates in the spontaneous operation of the
whole mind. It is a necessary deduction from the facts of the universe,
and the primitive intuitions of the reason,--a logical inference from
the facts of sense, consciousness, and reason. A philosophy of religion
which regards the feelings as supreme, and which brands the decisions of
reason as uncertain, and well-nigh valueless, necessarily degenerates
into mysticism--a mysticism "which pretends to elevate man directly to
God, and does not see that, in depriving reason of its power, it really
deprives man of that which enables him to know God, and puts him in a
just communication with God by the intermediary of eternal and infinite
truth."[65]

[Footnote 65: Cousin, "True, Beautiful, and Good," p. 110.]

The religious sentiments in all minds, and in all ages, have resulted
from the union of _thought_ and _feeling_--the living and harmonious
relation of reason and sensibility; and a philosophy which disregards
either is inadequate to the explanation of the phenomena.

IV. The fourth hypothesis is, _that religion has had its outbirth in the
spontaneous apperceptions of_ REASON; that is, in the necessary, à
priori ideas of the infinite, the perfect, the unconditioned Cause, the
Eternal Being, which are evoked into consciousness in presence of the
changeful, contingent phenomena of the world.

This will at once be recognized by the intelligent reader as the
doctrine of Cousin, by whom _pure reason_ is regarded as the grand
faculty or organ of religion.

Religion, in the estimation of Cousin, is grounded on _cognition_ rather
than upon feeling. It is the knowledge of God, and the knowledge of duty
in its relation to God and to human happiness; and as reason is the
general faculty of all knowing, it must be the faculty of religion. "In
its most elevated point of view, religion is the relation of absolute
truth to absolute Being," and as absolute truth is apprehended by the
reason alone, reason "is the veridical and religious part of the nature
of man."[66] By "reason," however, as we shall see presently, Cousin
does not mean the discursive or reflective reason, but the spontaneous
or intuitive reason. That act of the mind by which we attain to
religious knowledge is not a _process of reasoning_, but a pure
appreciation, an instinctive and involuntary movement of the soul.

[Footnote 66: Henry's Cousin, p. 510.]

The especial function of reason, therefore, is to reveal to us the
invisible, the supersensuous, the Divine. "It was bestowed upon us for
this very purpose of going, without any circuit of reasoning, from the
visible to the invisible, from the finite to the infinite, from the
imperfect to the perfect, and from necessary and eternal truths, to the
eternal and necessary principle" that is God.[67] Reason is thus, as it
were, the bridge between consciousness and being; it rests, at the same
time, on both; it descends from God, and approaches man; it makes its
appearance in consciousness as a guest which brings intelligence of
another world of real Being which lies beyond the world of sense.

Reason does not, however, attain to the Absolute Being directly and
immediately, without any intervening medium. To assert this would be to
fall into the error of Plotinus, and the Alexandrian Mystics. Reason is
the offspring of God, a ray of the Eternal Reason, but it is not to be
identified with God. Reason attains to the Absolute Being indirectly,
and by the interposition of truth. Absolute truth is an attribute and a
manifestation of God. "Truth is incomprehensible without God, and God is
incomprehensible without truth. Truth is placed between human
intelligence, and the supreme intelligence as a kind of mediator."[68]
Incapable of contemplating God face to face, reason adores God in the
truth which represents and manifests Him.

[Footnote 67: Cousin, "True, Beautiful, and Good," p. 103.]

[Footnote 68: Id., ib., p. 99.]

Absolute truth is thus a revelation of God, made by God to the reason of
man, and as it is a light which illuminates every man, and is
perpetually perceived by all men, it is a universal and perpetual
revelation of God to man. The mind of man is "the offspring of God,"
and, as such, must have some resemblance to, and some correlation with
God. Now that which constitutes the image of God in man must be found in
the reason which is correlated with, and capable of perceiving the truth
which manifests God, just as the eye is correlated to the light which
manifests the external world. Absolute truth is, therefore, the sole
medium of bringing the human mind into communion with God; and human
reason, in becoming united to absolute truth, becomes united to God in
his manifestation in spirit and in truth. The supreme law, and highest
destination of man, is to become united to God by seeking a full
consciousness of, and loving and practising the Truth.[69]

[Footnote 69: Henry's Cousin, p. 511, 512.]

It will at once be obvious that the grand crucial questions by which
this philosophy of religion is to be tested are--

1st. _How will Cousin prove to us that human reason is in possession of
universal and necessary principles or absolute truths?_ and,

2d. _How are these principles shown to be absolute? how far do these
principles of reason possess absolute authority?_

The answer of Cousin to the first question is that we prove reason to be
in possession of universal and necessary principles by the analysis of
the contents of consciousness, that is, by psychological analysis. The
phenomena of consciousness, in their primitive condition, are
necessarily complex, concrete, and particular. All our primary ideas are
complex ideas, for the evident reason that all, or nearly all, our
faculties enter at once into exercise; their simultaneous action giving
us, at the same time, a certain number of ideas connected with each
other, and forming a whole. For example, the idea of the exterior world,
which is given us so quickly, is a complex idea, which contains a number
of ideas. There is the idea of the secondary qualities of exterior
objects; there is the idea of the primary qualities; there is the idea
of the permanent reality of something to which you refer these
qualities, to wit, matter; there is the idea of space which contains
bodies; there is the idea of time in which movements are effected. All
these ideas are acquired simultaneously, or nearly simultaneously, and
together form one complex idea.

The application of analysis to this complex phenomenon clearly reveals
that there are simple ideas, beliefs, principles in the mind which can
not have been derived from sense and experience, which sense and
experience do not account for, and which are the suggestions of reason
alone: the idea of the _Infinite_, the _Perfect_, the _Eternal_; the
true, the beautiful, the good; the principle of causality, of substance,
of unity, of intentionality; the principle of duty, of obligation, of
accountability, of retribution. These principles, in their natural and
regular development, carry us beyond the limits of consciousness, and
reveal to us a world of real being beyond the world of sense. They carry
us up to an absolute Being, the fountain of all existence--a living,
personal, righteous God--the author, the sustainer, and ruler of the
universe.

The proof that these principles are absolute, and possessed of absolute
authority, is drawn, first, from the _impersonality of reason_, or,
rather, the impersonality of the ideas, principles, or truths of reason.

It is not we who create these ideas, neither can we change them at our
pleasure. We are conscious that the will, in all its various efforts, is
enstamped with the impress of our personality. Our volitions are our
own. So, also, our desires are our own, our emotions are our own. But
this is not the same with our rational ideas or principles. The ideas of
substance, of cause, of unity, of intentionality do not belong to one
person any more than to another; they belong to mind as mind, they are
revealed in the universal intelligence of the race. Absolute truth has
no element of personality about it. Man may say "my reason," but give
him credit for never having dared to say "_my_ truth." So far from
rational ideas being individual, their peculiar characteristic is that
they are opposed to individuality, that is, they are universal and
necessary. Instead of being circumscribed within the limits of
experience, they surpass and govern it; they are universal in the midst
of particular phenomena; necessary, although mingled with things
contingent; and absolute, even when appearing within us the relative and
finite beings that we are.[70] Necessary, universal, absolute truth is a
direct emanation from God. "Such being the case, the decision of reason
within its own peculiar province possesses an authority almost divine.
If we are led astray by it, we must be led astray by a light from
heaven."[71]

[Footnote 70: Cousin, "True, Beautiful, and Good," p. 40.]

[Footnote 71: Id., "Lectures," vol. ii. p. 32.]

The second proof is derived from _the distinction between the
spontaneous and reflective movements of reason_.

Reflection is voluntary, spontaneity is involuntary; reflection is
personal, spontaneity is impersonal; reflection is analytic, spontaneity
is synthetic; reflection begins with doubt, spontaneity with
affirmation; reflection belongs to certain ones, spontaneity belongs to
all; reflection produces science, spontaneity gives truth. Reflection is
a process, more or less tardy, in the individual and in the race. It
sometimes engenders error and skepticism, sometimes convictions that,
from being rational, are only the more profound. It constructs systems,
it creates artificial logic, and all those formulas which we now use by
the force of habit, as if they were natural to us. But spontaneous
intuition is the true logic of nature,--instant, direct, and infallible.
It is a primitive affirmation which implies no negation, and therefore
yields positive knowledge. To reflect is to return to that which was. It
is, by the aid of memory, to return to the past, and to render it
present to the eye of consciousness. Reflection, therefore, creates
nothing; it supposes an anterior operation of the mind in which there
necessarily must be as many terms as are discovered by reflection.
Before all reflection there comes spontaneity--a spontaneity of the
intellect, which seizes truth at once, without traversing doubt and
error. "We thus attain to a judgment free from all reflection, to an
affirmation without any mixture of negation, to an immediate intuition,
the legitimate daughter of the natural energy of thought, like the
inspiration of the poet, the instinct of the hero, the enthusiasm of the
prophet." Such is the first act of knowing, and in this first act the
mind passes from _idea to being_ without ever suspecting the depth of
the chasm it has passed. It passes by means of the power which is in it,
and is not astonished at what it has done. It is subsequently astonished
when by reflection it returns to the analysis of the results, and, by
the aid of the liberty with which it is endowed, to do the opposite of
what it has done, to deny what it has affirmed. "Hence comes the strife
between sophism and common sense, between false science and natural
truth, between good and bad philosophy, both of which come from free
reflection."[72]

It is this spontaneity of thought which gives birth to _religion._ The
instinctive thought which darts through the world, even to God, is
natural religion. "All thought implies a spontaneous faith in God, and
there is no such thing as natural atheism. Doubt and skepticism may
mingle with reflective thought, but beneath reflection there is still
spontaneity. When the scholar has denied the existence of God, listen to
the man, interrogate him, take him unawares, and you will see that all
his words envelop the idea of God, and that faith in God is, without his
recognition, at the bottom, in his heart."[73]

Religion, then, in the system of Cousin, does not begin with reflection,
with science, but with _faith_. There is, however, this difference to be
noted between the theory of the "faith-philosophers" (Jacobi,
Schleiermacher, etc.) and the theory of Cousin. With them, faith is
grounded on sensation or _feeling_; with him, it is grounded on
_reason_. "Faith, whatever may be its form, whatever may be its object,
common or sublime, can be nothing else than the _consent of reason_.
That is the foundation of faith."[74]

[Footnote 72: Cousin, "True, Beautiful, and Good," p. 106.]

[Footnote 73: "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 137.]

[Footnote 74: Ibid., vol. i. p. 90.]

Religion is, therefore, with Cousin, at bottom, pure Theism. He thinks,
however, that "true theism is not a dead religion that forgets precisely
the fundamental attributes of God." It recognizes God as creator,
preserver, and governor; it celebrates a providence; it adores a
perfect, holy, righteous, benevolent God. It holds the principle of
duty, of obligation, of moral desert. It not only perceives the divine
character, but feels its relation to God. The revelation of the
Infinite, by reason, moves the feelings, and passes into sentiment,
producing reverence, and love, and gratitude. And it creates worship,
which recalls man to God a thousand times more forcibly than the order,
harmony, and beauty of the universe can do.

The spontaneous action of reason, in its greatest energy, is
_inspiration_. "Inspiration, daughter of the soul and heaven, speaks
from on high with an absolute authority. It commands faith; so all its
words are hymns, and its natural language is poetry." "Thus, in the
cradle of civilization, he who possessed in a higher degree than his
fellows the gift of inspiration, passed for the confidant and the
interpreter of God. He is so for others, because he is so for himself;
and he is so, in fact, in a philosophic sense. Behold the sacred origin
of prophecies, of pontificates, and of modes of worship."[75]

[Footnote 75: "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 129.]

As an account of the genesis of the idea of God in the human
intelligence, the doctrine of Cousin must be regarded as eminently
logical, adequate, and satisfactory. As a theory of the origin of
religion, as a philosophy which shall explain all the phenomena of
religion, it must be pronounced defective, and, in some of its aspects,
erroneous.

First, it does not take proper account of that _living force_ which has
in all ages developed so much energy, and wrought such vast results in
the history of religion, viz., the _power of the heart_. Cousin
discourses eloquently on the spontaneous, instinctive movements of the
reason, but he overlooks, in a great measure, the instinctive movements
of the heart. He does not duly estimate the feeling of reverence and awe
which rises spontaneously in presence of the vastness and grandeur of
the universe, and of the power and glory of which the created universe
is a symbol and shadow. He disregards that sense of an overshadowing
Presence which, at least in seasons of tenderness and deep sensibility,
seems to compass us about, and lay its hand upon us. He scarcely
recognizes the deep consciousness of imperfection and weakness, and
utter dependence, which prompts man to seek for and implore the aid of a
Superior Being; and, above all, he takes no proper account of the sense
of guilt and the conscious need of expiation. His theory, therefore, can
not adequately explain the universal prevalence of sacrifices, penances,
and prayers. In short, it does not meet and answer to the deep longings
of the human heart, the wants, sufferings, fears, and hopes of man.

Cousin claims that the universal reason of man is illuminated by the
light of God. It is quite pertinent to ask, Why may not the universal
heart of humanity be touched and moved by the spirit of God? If the
ideas of reason be a revelation from God, may not the instinctive
feelings of the heart be an inspiration of God? May not God come near to
the heart of man and awaken a mysterious presentiment of an invisible
Presence, and an instinctive longing to come nearer to Him? May he not
draw men towards himself by sweet, persuasive influences, and raise man
to a conscious fellowship? Is not God indeed the _great want_ of the
human heart?

Secondly, Cousin does not give due importance to the influence of
revealed truth as given in the sacred Scriptures, and of the positive
institutions of religion, as a divine economy, supernaturally originated
in the world. He grants, indeed, that "a primitive revelation throws
light upon the cradle of human civilization," and that "all antique
traditions refer to an age in which man, at his departure from the hand
of God, received from him immediately all lights, and all truths."[76]
He also believes that "the Mosaic religion, by its developments, is
mingled with the history of all the surrounding people of Egypt, of
Assyria, of Persia, and of Greece and Rome."[77] Christianity, however,
is regarded as "the summing and crown of the two great religious systems
which reigned by turn in the East and in Greece"--the maturity of
Ethnicism and Judaism; a development rather than a new creation. The
explanation which he offers of the phenomena of inspiration opens the
door to religious skepticism. Those who were termed seers, prophets,
inspired teachers of ancient times, were simply men who resigned
themselves wholly to their intellectual instincts, and thus gazed upon
truth in its pure and perfect form. They did not reason, they did not
reflect, they made no pretensions to philosophy they received truth
spontaneously as it flowed in upon them from heaven.[78] This immediate
reception of Divine light was nothing more than the _natural_ play of
spontaneous reason nothing more than what has existed to a greater or
less degree in every man of great genius; nothing more than may now
exist in any mind which resigns itself to its own unreflective
apperceptions. Thus revelation, in its proper sense, loses all its
peculiar value, and Christianity is robbed of its pre-eminent authority.
The extremes of Mysticism and Rationalism here meet on the same ground,
and Plotinus and Cousin are at one.

[Footnote 76: "Hist. of Philos.," vol. i. p. 148.]

[Footnote 77: Ibid., vol. i. p. 216.]

[Footnote 78: Morell, "Hist. of Philos.," p. 661.]

V. The fifth hypothesis offered in explanation of the religious
phenomena of the world is that they had their origin _in_ EXTERNAL
REVELATION, _to which reason is related as a purely passive organ, and
Ethnicism as a feeble relic_.

This is the theory of the school of "dogmatic theologians," of which the
ablest and most familiar presentation is found in the "Theological
Institutes" of R. Watson.[79] He claims that all our religious knowledge
is derived from _oral revelation alone_, and that all the forms of
religion and modes of worship which have prevailed in the heathen world
have been perversions and corruptions of the one true religion first
taught to the earliest families of men by God himself. All the ideas of
God, duty, immortality, and future retribution which are now possessed,
or have ever been possessed by the heathen nations, are only broken and
scattered rays of the primitive traditions descending from the family of
Noah, and revived by subsequent intercourses with the Hebrew race; and
all the modes of religious worship--prayers, lustrations,
sacrifices--that have obtained in the world, are but feeble relics,
faint reminiscences of the primitive worship divinely instituted among
the first families of men. "The first man received the knowledge of God
by sensible converse with him, and that doctrine was transmitted, with
the confirmation of successive manifestations, to the early ancestors of
all nations."[80] This belief in the existence of a Supreme Being was
preserved among the Jews by continual manifestations of the presence of
Jehovah. "The intercourses between the Jews and the states of Syria and
Babylon, on the one hand, and Egypt on the other, powers which rose to
great eminence and influence in the ancient world, was maintained for
ages. Their frequent dispersions and captivities would tend to preserve
in part, and in part to revive, the knowledge of the once common and
universal faith."[81] And the Greek sages who resorted for instruction
to the Chaldean philosophic schools derived from thence their knowledge
of the theological system of the Jews.[82] Among the heathen nations
this primitive revelation was corrupted by philosophic speculation, as
in India and China, Greece and Rome; and in some cases it was entirely
obliterated by ignorance, superstition, and vice, as among the
Hottentots of Africa and the aboriginal tribes of New South Wales, who
"have no idea of one Supreme Creator."[83]

[Footnote 79: We might have referred the reader to Ellis's "Knowledge of
Divine Things from Revelation, not from Reason or Nature;" Leland's
"Necessity of Revelation;" and Horsley's "Dissertations," etc.; but as
we are not aware of their having been reprinted in this country, we
select the "Institutes" of Watson as the best presentation of the views
of "the dogmatic theologians" accessible to American readers.]

[Footnote 80: Watson, "Theol. Inst," vol. i. p. 270.]

[Footnote 81: Id. ib., vol. i. p. 31.]

[Footnote 82: See ch. v. and vi., "On the Origin of those Truths which
are found in the Writings and Religious Systems of the Heathen."]

[Footnote 83: Ibid., vol. i. p. 274.]

The same course of reasoning is pursued in regard to the idea of duty,
and the knowledge of right and wrong. "A direct communication of the
Divine Will was made to the primogenitors of our race," and to this
source _alone_ we are indebted for all correct ideas of right and wrong.
"Whatever is found pure in morals, in ancient or modern writers, may be
traced to _indirect_ revelation."[84] Verbal instruction--tradition or
scripture--thus becomes the source of all our moral ideas. The doctrine
of immortality, and of a future retribution,[85] the practice of
sacrifice--precatory and expiatory, are also ascribed to the same
source.[86] Thus the only medium by which religious truth can possibly
become known to the masses of mankind is _tradition_. The ultimate
foundation on which the religious faith and the religious practices of
universal humanity have rested, with the exception of the Jews, and the
favored few to whom the Gospel has come, is uncertain, precarious, and
easily corrupted tradition.

[Footnote 84: Watson, "Theol. Inst.," vol. ii. p. 470.]

[Footnote 85: Id. ib., vol. i. p. 11.]

[Footnote 86: Id. ib., vol. i. p. 26.]

The improbability, inadequacy, and incompleteness of this theory will be
obvious from the following considerations:

1. It is highly improbable that truths so important and vital to man, so
essential to the well-being of the human race, so necessary to the
perfect development of humanity as are the ideas of God, duty, and
immortality, should rest on so precarious and uncertain a basis as
tradition is admitted, even by Mr. Watson, to be.

The human mind needs the idea of God to satisfy its deep moral
necessities, and to harmonize all its powers. The perfection of humanity
can never be secured, the destination of humanity can never be achieved,
the purpose of God in the existence of humanity can never be
accomplished, without the idea of God, and of the relation of man to
God, being present to the human mind. Society needs the idea of a
Supreme Ruler as the foundation of law and government, and as the basis
of social order. Without it, these can not be, or be conserved.
Intellectual creatureship, social order, human progress, are
inconceivable and impossible without the idea of God, and of
accountability to God. Now that truths so fundamental should, to the
masses of men, rest on tradition _alone_, is incredible. Is there no
known and accessible God to the outlying millions of our race who, in
consequence of the circumstances of birth and education, which are
beyond their control, have had no access to an oral revelation, and
among whom the dim shadowy rays of an ancient tradition have long ago
expired? Are the eight hundred millions of our race upon whom the light
of Christianity has not shone unvisited by the common Father of our
race? Has the universal Father left his "own offspring" without a single
native power of recognizing the existence of the Divine Parent, and
abandoned them to solitary and dreary orphanage? Could not he who gave
to matter its properties and laws,--the properties and laws through
whose operation he is working out his own purposes in the realm of
nature,--could not he have also given to mind ideas and principles
which, logically developed, would lead to recognition of a God, and of
our duty to God, and, by these ideas and principles, have wrought out
his sublime purposes in the realm of mind? Could not he who gave to man
the appetency for food, and implanted in his nature the social instincts
to preserve his physical being, have implanted in his heart a "feeling
after God," and an instinct to worship God in order to the conservation
of his spiritual being? How otherwise can we affirm the responsibility
and accountability of all the race before God? Those theologians who are
so earnest in the assertion that God has not endowed man with the native
power of attaining the knowledge of God can not, on any principle of
equity, show how the heathen are "without excuse" when, in involuntary
ignorance of God, they "worship the creature instead of the Creator,"
and violate a law of duty of which they have no possible means to attain
the barest knowledge.

2. This theory is utterly inadequate to the explanation of the
_universality_ of religious rites, and especially of religious ideas.

Take, for example, the idea of God. As a matter of fact we affirm, in
opposition to Watson, the universality of this idea. The idea of God is
connatural to the human mind. Wherever human reason has had its normal
and healthy development[87], this idea has arisen spontaneously and
necessarily. There has not been found a race of men who were utterly
destitute of some knowledge of a Supreme Being. All the instances
alleged have, on further and more accurate inquiry, been found
incorrect. The tendency of the last century, arbitrarily to quadrate all
the facts of religious history with the prevalent sensational
philosophy, had its influence upon the minds of the first missionaries
to India, China, Africa, Australia, and the islands of the Pacific. They
_expected_ to find that the heathen had no knowledge of a Supreme Being,
and before they had mastered the idioms of their language, or become
familiar with their mythological and cosmological systems, they reported
them as _utterly ignorant of God_, destitute of the idea and even the
name of a Supreme Being. These mistaken and hasty conclusions have,
however, been corrected by a more intimate acquaintance with the people,
their languages and religions. Even in the absence of any better
information, we should be constrained to doubt the accuracy of the
authorities quoted by Mr. Watson in relation to Hindooism, when by one
(Ward) we are told that the Hindoo "believes in a God destitute of
_intelligence_" and by another (Moore) that "Brahm is the one eternal
_Mind_, the self-existent, incomprehensible Spirit". Learned and
trustworthy critics, Asiatic as well as European, however, confidently
affirm that "the ground of the Brahminical faith is Monotheistic;" it
recognizes "an Absolute and Supreme Being" as the source of all that
exists.[88] Eugene Burnouf, M. Barthélemy Saint-Hilaire, Kœppen, and
indeed nearly all who have written on the subject of Buddhism, have
shown that the metaphysical doctrines of Buddha were borrowed from the
earlier systems of the Brahminic philosophy. "Buddha." we are told, is
"_pure intelligence_" "_clear light_", "_perfect wisdom_;" the same as
Brahm. This is surely Theism in its highest conception.[89] In regard to
the peoples of South Africa, Dr. Livingstone assures us "there is no
need for beginning to tell even the most degraded of these people of the
existence of a God, or of a future state--the facts being universally
admitted.... On questioning intelligent men among the Backwains as to
their former knowledge of good and evil, of God, and of a future state,
they have scouted the idea of any of them ever having been without a
tolerably clear conception on all these subjects."[90] And so far from
the New Hollanders having no idea of a Supreme Being, we are assured by
E. Stone Parker, the protector of the aborigines of New Holland, they
have a clear and well-defined idea of a "_Great Spirit_," the maker of
all things.

[Footnote 87: Watson, "Theol. Inst.," vol. i. p. 46.]

[Footnote 88: Maurice, "Religions of the World," p. 59: _Edin.
Review_,1862, art "Recent Researches on Buddhism." See also Müller's
"Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i. ch. i. to vi.]

[Footnote 89: "It has been said that Buddha and Kapila were both
atheists, and that Buddha borrowed his atheism from Kapila. But atheism
is an indefinite term, and may mean very different things. In one sense
every Indian philosopher was an atheist, for they all perceived that the
gods of the populace could not claim the attributes that belong to a
Supreme Being. But all the important philosophical systems of the
Brahmans admit, in some form or another, the existence of an Absolute
and Supreme Being, the source of all that exists, or seems to
exist."--Müller, "Chips from a German Workshop," vol. i. pp. 224,5.

Buddha, which means "intelligence," "clear light," "perfect wisdom," was
not only the name of the founder of the religion of Eastern Asia, but
Adi Buddha was the name of the Absolute, Eternal Intelligence.--Maurice,
"Religions of the World," p. 102.]

[Footnote 90: "Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa," p.
158.]

Now had the idea of God rested _solely_ on tradition, it were the most
natural probability that it might be lost, nay, _must_ be lost, amongst
those races of men who were geographically and chronologically far
removed from the primitive cradle of humanity in the East. The people
who, in their migrations, had wandered to the remotest parts of the
earth, and had become isolated from the rest of mankind, might, after
the lapse of ages, be expected to lose the idea of God, if it were not a
spontaneous and native intuition of the mind,--a necessity of thought. A
fact of history must be presumed to stick to the mind with much greater
tenacity than a purely rational idea which has no visible symbol in the
sensible world, and yet, even in regard to the events of history, the
persistence and pertinacity of tradition is exceedingly feeble. The
South Sea Islanders know not from whence, or at what time, their
ancestors came. There are monuments in Tonga and Fiji of which the
present inhabitants can give no account. How, then, can a pure, abstract
idea which can have no sensible representation, no visible image, retain
its hold upon the memory of humanity for thousands of years? The Fijian
may not remember whence his immediate ancestors came, but he knows that
the race came originally from the hands of the Creator. He can not tell
who built the monuments of solid masonry which are found in his
island-home, but he can tell who reared the everlasting hills and built
the universe. He may not know who reigned in Vewa a hundred years ago,
but he knows who now reigns, and has always reigned, over the whole
earth. "The idea of a God is familiar to the Fijian, and the existence
of an invisible superhuman power controlling and influencing nature, and
all earthly things, is fully recognized by him."[91] The idea of God is
a common fact of human consciousness, and tradition alone is manifestly
inadequate to account for its _universality_.

[Footnote 91: "Fiji and the Fijians," p. 215.]

3. A verbal revelation would be inadequate to convey the knowledge of
God to an intelligence "_purely passive_" and utterly unfurnished with
any _à priori_ ideas or necessary laws of cognition and thought.

Of course it is not denied that important verbal communications relating
to the character of God, and the duties we owe to God, were given to the
first human pair, more clear and definite, it may be, than any knowledge
attained by Socrates and Plato through their dialectic processes, and
that these oral revelations were successively repeated and enlarged to
the patriarchs and prophets of the Old Testament church. And
furthermore, that some rays of light proceeding from this pure fountain
of truth were diffused, and are still lingering among the heathen
nations, we have no desire, and no need to deny.

All this, however, supposes, at least, a natural power and aptitude for
the knowledge of God, and some configuration and correlation of the
human intelligence to the Divine. "We have no knowledge of a dynamic
influence, spiritual or natural, without a dynamic reaction." Matter can
not be moved and controlled by forces and laws, unless it have
properties which correlate it with those forces and laws. And mind can
not be determined from without to any specific form of cognition, unless
it have active powers of apprehension and conception which are governed
by uniform laws. The "material" of thought may be supplied from without,
but the "form" is determined by the necessary laws of our inward being.
All our cognition of the external world is conditioned by the _à priori_
ideas of time and space, and all our thinking is governed by the
principles of causality and substance, and the law of "sufficient
reason." The mind itself supplies an element of knowledge in all our
cognitions. Man can not be taught the knowledge of God if he be not
naturally possessed of a presentiment, or an apperception of a God, as
the cause and reason of the universe. "If education be not already
preceded by an innate consciousness of God, as an operative
predisposition, there would be nothing for education and culture to act
upon."[92] A mere verbal revelation can not communicate the knowledge of
God, if man have not already the idea of a God in his mind. A name is a
mere empty sign, a meaningless symbol, without a mental image of the
object which it represents, or an innate perception, or an abstract
conception of the mind, of which the word is the sign. The mental image
or the abstract conception must, therefore, precede the name; cognition
must be anterior to, and give the meaning of language.[93] The child
knows a thing even before it can speak its name. And, universally, we
must know the _thing_ in itself, or image it by analogies and
resemblances to some other thing we do know, before the name can have
any meaning for us. As to purely rational ideas and abstract
conceptions,--as space, cause, the infinite, the perfect,--language can
never convey these to the mind, nor can the mind ever attain them by
experience if they are not an original, connate part of our mental
equipment and furniture. The mere verbal affirmation "there is a God"
made to one who has no idea of a God, would be meaningless and
unintelligible. What notion can a man form of "the First Cause" if the
principle of causality is not inherent in his mind? What conception can
he form of "the Infinite Mind" if the infinite be not a primitive
intuition? How can he conceive of "a Righteous Governor" if he have no
idea of right, no sense of obligation, no apprehension of a retribution?
Words are empty sounds without ideas, and God is a mere name if the mind
has no apperception of a God.

[Footnote 92: Nitzsch, "System of Christian Doctrine," p. 10.]

[Footnote 93: "Ideas must pre-exist their sensible signs." See De
Boismont on "Hallucination," etc., p. iii.]

It may be affirmed that, preceding or accompanying the announcement of
the Divine Name, there was given to the first human pair, and to the
early fathers of our race, some visible manifestation of the presence of
God, and some supernatural display of divine power. What, then, was the
character of these early manifestations, and were they adequate to
convey the proper idea of God? Did God first reveal himself in human
form, and if so, how could their conception of God advance beyond a rude
anthropomorphism? Did he reveal his presence in a vast columnar cloud or
a pillar of fire? How could such an image convey any conception of the
intelligence, the omnipresence, the eternity of God? Nay, can the
infinite and eternal Mind be represented by any visible manifestation?
Can the human mind conceive an image of God? The knowledge of God, it is
clear, can not be conveyed by any sensible sign or symbol if man has no
prior rational idea of God as the Infinite and the Perfect Being.

If the facts of order, and design, and special adaptation which crowd
the universe, and the _à priori_ ideas of an unconditioned Cause and an
infinite Intelligence which arise in the mind in presence of these
facts, are inadequate to produce the logical conviction that it is the
work of an intelligent mind, how can any preternatural display of
_power_ produce a rational conviction that God exists? "If the universe
could come by chance or fate, surely all the lesser phenomena, termed
miraculous, might occur so too."[94] If we find ourselves standing amid
an eternal series of events, may not miracles be a part of that series?
Or if all things are the result of necessary and unchangeable laws, may
not miracles also result from some natural or psychological law of which
we are yet in ignorance? Let it be granted that man is _not_ so
constituted that, by the necessary laws of his intelligence, he must
affirm that facts of order having a commencement in time prove mind; let
it be granted that man has _no_ intuitive belief in the Infinite and
Perfect--in short, no idea of God; how, then, could a marvellous display
of _power_, a new, peculiar, and startling phenomenon which even seemed
to transcend nature, prove to him the existence of an infinite
_intelligence_--a personal God? The proof would be simply inadequate,
because not the right kind of proof. Power does not indicate
intelligence, force does not imply personality.

[Footnote 94: Morell, "Hist. of Philos." p. 737.]

Miracles, in short, were never intended to prove the existence of God.
The foundation of this truth had already been laid in the constitution
and laws of the human mind, and miracles were designed to convince us
that He of whose existence we had a prior certainty, spoke to us by His
Messenger, and in this way attested his credentials. To the man who has
a rational belief in the existence of God this evidence of a divine
mission is at once appropriate and conclusive. "Master, we know thou art
a teacher sent from God; for no man can do the works which thou doest,
except God be with him." The Christian missionary does not commence his
instruction to the heathen, who have an imperfect, or even erroneous
conception of "the Great Spirit," by narrating the miracles of Christ,
or quoting the testimony of the Divine Book he carries along with him.
He points to the heavens and the earth, and says, "There is a Being who
made all these things, and Jehovah is his name; I have come to you with
a message from Him!" Or he need scarce do even so much; for already the
heathen, in view of the order and beauty which pervades the universe,
has been constrained, by the laws of his own intelligence, to believe in
and offer worship to the "Ἄγνωστος Θεος"--the unseen and
incomprehensible God; and pointing to their altars, he may announce with
Paul, "this God _whom ye worship_, though ignorantly, him declare I unto
you!"

The results of our study of the various hypotheses which have been
offered in explanation of the religious phenomena of the world may be
summed up as follows: The first and second theories we have rejected as
utterly false. Instead of being faithful to and adequately explaining
the facts, they pervert, and maltreat, and distort the facts of
religious history. The last three each contain a precious element of
truth which must not be undervalued, and which can not be omitted in an
explanation which can be pronounced complete. Each theory, taken by
itself, is incomplete and inadequate. The third hypothesis overrates
_feeling_; the fourth, _reason_; the fifth, _verbal instruction_. The
first extreme is Mysticism, the second is Rationalism, the last is
Dogmatism. Reason, feeling, and faith in testimony must be combined, and
mutually condition each other. No purely rationalistic hypothesis will
meet and satisfy the wants and yearnings of the heart. No theory based
on feeling alone can satisfy the demands of the human intellect. And,
finally, an hypothesis which bases all religion upon historical
testimony and outward fact, and despises and tramples upon the
intuitions of the reason and the instincts of the heart can never
command the general faith of mankind. Religion embraces and
conditionates the whole sphere of life--thought, feeling, faith, and
action; it must therefore be grounded in the entire spiritual nature of
man.

Our criticism of opposite theories has thus prepared the way for, and
obviated the necessity of an extended discussion of the hypothesis we
now advance.

_The universal phenomenon of religion has originated in the à priori
apperceptions of reason, and the natural instinctive feelings of the
heart, which, from age to age, have been vitalized, unfolded, and
perfected by supernatural communications and testamentary revelations_.

There are universal facts of religious history which can only be
explained on the first principle of this hypothesis; there are special
facts which can only be explained on the latter principle. The universal
prevalence of the idea of God, and the feeling of obligation to obey and
worship God, belong to the first order of facts; the general prevalence
of expiatory sacrifices, of the rite of circumcision, and the observance
of sacred and holy days, belong to the latter. To the last class of
facts the observance of the Christian Sabbath, and the rites of Baptism
and the Lord's Supper may be added.

The history of all religions clearly attests that there are two orders
of principles--the _natural_ and the _positive_, and, in some measure,
two authorities of religious life which are intimately related without
negativing each other. The characteristic of the natural is that it is
_intrinsic_, of the positive, that it is _extrinsic_. In all ages men
have sought the authority of the positive in that which is immediately
_beyond_ and above man--in some "voice of the Divinity" toning down the
stream of ages, or speaking through a prophet or oracle, or written in
some inspired and sacred book. They have sought for the authority of the
natural in that which is immediately _within_ man--the voice of the
Divinity speaking in the conscience and heart of man. A careful study of
the history of religion will show a reciprocal relation between the two,
and indicate their common source.

We expect to find that our hypothesis will be abundantly sustained by
the study of the _Religion of the Athenians_.




CHAPTER III.

THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS.


"All things which I behold bear witness to your carefulness in religion
(δεισιδαιμονεστέρους). For as I passed through your city, and beheld the
objects of your worship, I found amongst them an altar with this
inscription--'TO THE UNKNOWN GOD.' Whom therefore ye worship...."--ST.
PAUL.

Through one of those remarkable counter-strokes of Divine Providence by
which the evil designs of men are overruled, and made to subserve the
purposes of God, the Apostle Paul was brought to Athens. He walked
beneath its stately porticoes, he entered its solemn temples, he stood
before its glorious statuary, he viewed its beautiful altars--all
devoted to pagan worship. And "his spirit was stirred within him," he
was moved with indignation "when he saw the city full of images of the
gods."[95] At the very entrance of the city he met the evidence of this
peculiar tendency of the Athenians to multiply the objects of their
devotion; for here at the gateway stands an image of Neptune, seated on
horseback, and brandishing the trident. Passing through the gate, his
attention would be immediately arrested by the sculptured forms of
Minerva, Jupiter, Apollo, Mercury, and the Muses, standing near a
sanctuary of Bacchus. A long street is now before him, with temples,
statues, and altars crowded on either hand. Walking to the end of this
street, and turning to the right, he entered the Agora, a public square
surrounded with porticoes and temples, which were adorned with statuary
and paintings in honor of the gods of Grecian mythology. Amid the
plane-trees planted by the hand of Cimon are the statues of the deified
heroes of Athens, Hercules and Theseus, and the whole series of the
Eponymi, together with the memorials of the older divinities; Mercuries
which gave the name to the streets on which they were placed; statues
dedicated to Apollo as patron of the city and her deliverer from the
plague; and in the centre of all the altar of the Twelve Gods.

[Footnote 95: Lange's Commentary, Acts xvii. 16.]

Standing in the market-place, and looking up to the Areopagus, Paul
would see the temple of Mars, from whom the hill derived its name. And
turning toward the Acropolis, he would behold, closing the long
perspective, a series of little sanctuaries on the very ledges of the
rocks, shrines of Bacchus and Æsculapius, Venus, Earth, and Ceres,
ending with the lovely form of the Temple of Unwinged Victory, which
glittered in front of the Propylæa.

If the apostle entered the "fivefold gates," and ascended the flight of
stone steps to the platform of the Acropolis, he would find the whole
area one grand composition of architecture and statuary dedicated to the
worship of the gods. Here stood the Parthenon, the Virgin House, the
glorious temple which was erected during the proudest days of Athenian
glory, an entire offering to Minerva, the tutelary divinity of Athens.
Within was the colossal statue of the goddess wrought in ivory and gold.
Outside the temple there stood another statue of Minerva, cast from the
brazen spoils of Marathon; and near by yet another brazen Pallas, which
was called by pre-eminence "the Beautiful."

Indeed, to whatever part of Athens the apostle wandered, he would meet
the evidences of their "carefulness in religion," for every public place
and every public building was a sanctuary of some god. The Metroum, or
record-house, was a temple to the mother of the gods. The council-house
held statues of Apollo and Jupiter, with an altar to Vesta. The theatre
at the base of the Acropolis was consecrated to Bacchus. The Pnyx was
dedicated to Jupiter on high. And as if, in this direction, the Attic
imagination knew no bounds, abstractions were deified; altars were
erected to Fame, to Energy, to Modesty, and even to Pity, and these
abstractions were honored and worshipped as gods.

The impression made upon the mind of Paul was, that the city was
literally "full of idols," or images of the gods. This impression is
sustained by the testimony of numerous Greek and Roman writers.
Pausanias declares that Athens "had more images than all the rest of
Greece;" and Petronius, the Roman satirist, says, "it was easier to find
a god in Athens than a man."[96]

[Footnote 96: See Conybeare and Howson's "Life and Epistles of St.
Paul;" also, art. "Athens," in _Encyclopædia Britannica_, whence our
account of the "sacred objects" in Athens is chiefly gathered.]

No wonder, then, that as Paul wandered amid these scenes "his spirit was
stirred in him." He burned with holy zeal to maintain the honor of the
true and only God, whom now he saw dishonored on every side. He was
filled with compassion for those Athenians who, notwithstanding their
intellectual greatness, had changed the glory of God into an image made
in the likeness of corruptible man, and who really worshipped the
creature _more_ than the Creator. The images intended to symbolize the
invisible perfections of God were usurping the place of God, and
receiving the worship due alone to him. We may presume the apostle was
not insensible to the beauties of Grecian art. The sublime architecture
of the Propylæa and the Parthenon, the magnificent sculpture of Phidias
and Praxiteles, could not fail to excite his wonder. But he remembered
that those superb temples and this glorious statuary were the creation
of the pagan spirit, and devoted to polytheistic worship. The glory of
the supreme God was obscured by all this symbolism. The creatures formed
by God, the symbols of his power and presence in nature, the ministers
of his providence and moral government, were receiving the honor due to
him. Over all this scene of material beauty and æsthetic perfection
there rose in dark and hideous proportions the errors and delusions and
sins against the living God which Polytheism nurtured, and unable any
longer to restrain himself, he commenced to "reason" with the crowds of
Athenians who stood beneath the shadows of the plane-trees, or lounged
beneath the porticoes that surrounded the Agora. Among these groups of
idlers were mingled the disciples of Zeno and Epicurus, who
"encountered" Paul. The nature of these "disputations" may be easily
conjectured, The opinions of these philosophers are even now familiarly
known: they are, in one form or another, current in the literature of
modern times. Materialism and Pantheism still "encounter" Christianity.
The apostle asserted the personal being and spirituality of one supreme
and only God, who has in divers ways revealed himself to man, and
therefore may be "known." He proclaimed that Jesus is the fullest and
most perfect revelation of God--the _only_ "manifestation of God in the
flesh." He pointed to his "resurrection" as the proof of his superhuman
character and mission to the world. Some of his hearers were disposed to
treat him with contempt; they represented him as an ignorant "babbler,"
who had picked up a few scraps of learning, and who now sought to palm
them off as a "new" philosophy. But most of them regarded him with that
peculiar Attic curiosity which was always anxious to be hearing some
"new thing." So they led him away from the tumult of the market-place to
the top of Mars' Hill, where, in its serene atmosphere, they might hear
him more carefully, and said, "May we hear what this new doctrine is
whereof thou speakest?"

Surrounded by these men of thoughtful, philosophic mind--men who had
deeply pondered the great problem of existence, who had earnestly
inquired after the "first principles of things;" men who had reasoned
high of creation, fate, and providence; of right and wrong; of
conscience, law, and retribution; and had formed strong and decided
opinions on all these questions--he delivered his discourse on the
_being_, the _providence_, the _spirituality_, and the _moral
government_ of God.

This grand theme was suggested by an inscription he had observed on one
of the altars of the city, which was dedicated "To the Unknown God." "Ye
men of Athens! every thing which I behold bears witness to your
_carefulness in religion_. For as I passed by and beheld your sacred
objects I found an altar with this inscription, 'To the Unknown God;'
whom, therefore, ye worship, though ye know him not [adequately], Him
declare I unto you." Starting from this point, the manifest carefulness
of the Athenians in religion, and accepting this inscription as the
evidence that they had some presentiment, some native intuition, some
dim conception of the one true and living God, he strives to lead them
to a deeper knowledge of Him. It is here conceded by the apostle that
the Athenians were a _religious people_. The observations he had made
during his short stay in Athens enabled him to bear witness that the
Athenians were "a God-fearing people,"[97] and he felt that fairness and
candor demanded that this trait should receive from him an ample
recognition and a full acknowledgment. Accordingly he commences by
saying in gentle terms, well fitted to conciliate his audience, "All
things which I behold bear witness to your carefulness in religion." I
recognize you as most devout; ye appear to me to be a God-fearing
people,[98] for as I passed by and beheld your sacred objects I found an
altar with this inscription, "To the Unknown God," whom therefore ye
worship.

[Footnote 97: Lange's Commentary, _in loco_.]

[Footnote 98: "Ως before δεισιδ.--so imports. I recognize you as
such."--Lange's Commentary.]

The assertion that the Athenians were "a religious people" will, to many
of our readers, appear a strange and startling utterance, which has in
it more of novelty than truth. Nay, some will be shocked to hear the
Apostle Paul described as complimenting these Athenians--these pagan
worshippers--on their "carefulness in religion." We have been so long
accustomed to use the word "heathen" as an opprobrious
epithet--expressing, indeed, the utmost extremes of ignorance, and
barbarism, and cruelty, that it has become difficult for us to believe
that in a heathen there can be any good.

From our childhood we have read in our English Bibles, Ye men of Athens,
I perceive in all things ye are _too superstitious_ and we can scarcely
tolerate another version, even if it can be shown that it approaches
nearer to the actual language employed by Paul. We must, therefore, ask
the patience and candor of the reader, while we endeavor to show, on the
authority of Paul's words, that the Athenians were a "religious people,"
and that all our notions to the contrary are founded on prejudice and
misapprehension.

First, then, let us commence even with our English version: "Ye men of
Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are _too superstitious_." And
what now is the meaning of the word "superstition?" It is true, we now
use it only in an evil sense, to express a belief in the agency of
invisible, capricious, malignant powers, which fills the mind with fear
and terror, and sees in every unexplained phenomenon of nature an omen,
or prognostic, of some future evil. But this is not its proper and
original meaning. Superstition is from the Latin _superstitio_, which
means a superabundance of religion,[99] an extreme exactitude in
religious observance. And this is precisely the sense in which the
corresponding Greek term is used by the Apostle Paul. Δεισιδαιμονία
properly means "reverence for the gods." "It is used," says Barnes, "in
the classic writers, in a good sense, to denote piety towards the gods,
or suitable fear and reverence for them." "The word," says Lechler, "is,
without doubt, to be understood here in a good sense; although it seems
to have been intentionally chosen, in order to indicate the conception
of _fear_(δειδω), which predominated in the religion of the apostle's
hearers."[100] This reading is sustained by the ablest critics and
scholars of modern times. Bengel reads the sentence, "I perceive that ye
are _very religious_"[101] Cudworth translates it thus: "Ye are every
way _more than ordinarily religious."[102]_ Conybeare and Howson read
the text as we have already given it, "All things which I behold bear
witness to your _carefulness in religion_."[103] Lechler reads "very
devout;"[104] Alford, "carrying your _religious reverence very
far_;"[105] and Albert Barnes,[106] "I perceive ye are greatly devoted
to _reverence for religion_."[107] Whoever, therefore, will give
attention to the actual words of the apostle, and search for their real
meaning, must be convinced he opens his address by complimenting the
Athenians on their being more than ordinarily religious.

[Footnote 99: Nitzsch, "System of Christ. Doctrine," p. 33.]

[Footnote 100: Lange's Commentary, _in loco_.]

[Footnote 101: "Gnomon of the New Testament."]

[Footnote 102: "Intellectual System," vol. i. p. 626.]

[Footnote 103: "Life and Epistles of St. Paul," vol. i. p. 378.]

[Footnote 104: Lange's Commentary.]

[Footnote 105: Greek Test.]

[Footnote 106: Notes on Acts.]

[Footnote 107: Also Clarke's Comment., _in loco_.]

Nor are we for a moment to suppose the apostle is here dealing in hollow
compliments, or having recourse to a "pious fraud." Such a course would
have been altogether out of character with Paul, and to suppose him
capable of pursuing such a course is to do him great injustice. If "to
the Jews he became as a Jew," it was because he recognized in Judaism
the same fundamental truths which underlie the Christian system. And if
here he seems to become, in any sense, at one with "heathenism," that he
might gain the heathen to the faith of Christ, it was because he found
in heathenism some elements of truth akin to Christianity, and a state
of feeling favorable to an inquiry into the truths he had to present. He
beheld in Athens an altar reared to the God _he_ worshipped, and it
afforded him some pleasure to find that God was not totally forgotten,
and his worship totally neglected, by the Athenians. The God whom they
knew imperfectly, "_Him_" said he, "I declare unto you;" I now desire to
make him more fully known. The worship of "the Unknown God" was a
recognition of the being of a God whose nature transcends all human
thought, a God who is ineffable; who, as Plato said, "is hard to be
discovered, and having discovered him, to make him known to all,
impossible."[108] It is the confession of a _want_ of knowledge, the
expression of a _desire_ to know, the acknowledgment of the _duty_ of
worshipping him. Underlying all the forms of idol-worship the eye of
Paul recognized an influential Theism. Deep down in the pagan heart he
discovered a "feeling after God"--a yearning for a deeper knowledge of
the "unknown," the invisible, the incomprehensible, which he could not
despise or disregard. The mysterious _sentiments_ of fear, of reverence,
of conscious dependence on a supernatural power and presence
overshadowing man, which were expressed in the symbolism of the "sacred
objects" which Paul saw everywhere in Athens, commanded his respect. And
he alludes to their "devotions," not in the language of reproach or
censure, but as furnishing to his own mind the evidence of the strength
of their _religious instincts_, and the proof of the existence in their
hearts of that _native apprehension_ of the supernatural, the divine,
which dwells alike in all human souls.

[Footnote 108: Timæus, ch. ix.]

The case of the Athenians has, therefore, a peculiar interest to every
thoughtful mind. It confirms the belief that religion is a necessity to
every human mind, a want of every human heart.[109] Without religion,
the nature of man can never be properly developed; the noblest part of
man--the divine, the spiritual element which dwells in man, as "the
offspring of God"--must remain utterly dwarfed. The spirit, the personal
being, the rational nature, is religious, and Atheism is the vain and
the wicked attempt to be something less than man. If the spiritual
nature of man has its normal and healthy development, he must become a
worshipper. This is attested by the universal history of man. We look
down the long-drawn aisles of antiquity, and everywhere we behold the
smoking altar, the ascending incense, the prostrate form, the attitude
of devotion. Athens, with her four thousand deities--Rome, with her
crowded Pantheon of gods--Egypt, with her degrading
superstitions--Hindostan, with her horrid and revolting rites--all
attest that the religious principle is deeply seated in the nature of
man. And we are sure religion can never be robbed of her supremacy, she
can never be dethroned in the hearts of men. It were easier to satisfy
the cravings of hunger by logical syllogisms, than to satisfy the
yearnings of the human heart without religion. The attempt of Xerxes to
bind the rushing floods of the Hellespont in chains was not more futile
nor more impotent than the attempt of skepticism to repress the
universal tendency to worship, so peculiar and so natural to man in
every age and clime.

[Footnote 109: The indispensable necessity for a religion of some kind
to satisfy the emotional nature of man is tacitly confessed by the
atheist Comte in the publication of his "Catechism of Positive
Religion."]

The unwillingness of many to recognize a religious element in the
Athenian mind is further accounted for by their misconception of the
meaning of the word "religion." We are all too much accustomed to regard
religion as a mere system of dogmatic teaching. We use the terms
"Christian religion," "Jewish religion," "Mohammedan religion," as
comprehending simply the characteristic doctrines by which each is
distinguished; whereas religion is a mode of thought, and feeling, and
action, determined by the consciousness of our relation to and our
dependence upon God. It does not appropriate to itself any specific
department of our mental powers and susceptibilities, but it conditions
the entire functions and circle of our spiritual life. It is not simply
a mode of conceiving God in thought, nor simply a mode of venerating God
in the affections, nor yet simply a mode of worshipping God in outward
and formal acts, but it comprehends the whole. Religion (_religere_,
respect, awe, reverence) regulates our thoughts, feelings, and acts
towards God. "It is a reference and a relationship of our finite
consciousness to the Creator and Sustainer and Governor of the
universe." It is such a consciousness of the Divine as shall awaken in
the heart of man the sentiments of reverence, fear, and gratitude
towards God; such a sense of dependence as shall prompt man to pray, and
lead him to perform external acts of worship.

Religion does not, therefore, consist exclusively in knowledge, however
correct; and yet it must be preceded and accompanied by some intuitive
cognition of a Supreme Being, and some conception of him as a free moral
personality. But the religious sentiments, which belong rather to the
heart than to the understanding of man--the consciousness of dependence,
the sense of obligation, the feeling of reverence, the instinct to pray,
the appetency to worship--these may all exist and be largely developed
in a human mind even when, as in the case of the Athenians, there is a
very imperfect knowledge of the real character of God.

Regarding this, then, as the generic conception of religion, namely,
_that it is a mode of thought and feeling and action determined by our
consciousness of dependence on a Supreme Being_, we claim that the
apostle was perfectly right in complimenting the Athenians on their
"more than ordinary religiousness," for,

1. They had, in some degree at least, that faith in the being and
providence of God which precedes and accompanies all religion.

They had erected an altar to the unseen, the unsearchable, the
incomprehensible, the unknown God. And this "unknown God" whom the
Athenians "worshipped" was the true God, the God whom Paul worshipped,
and whom he desired more fully to reveal to them; "_Him_ declare I unto
you." The Athenians had, therefore, some knowledge of the true God, some
dim recognition, at least, of his being, and some conception, however
imperfect, of his character. The Deity to whom the Athenians reared this
altar is called "the unknown God," because he is unseen by all human
eyes and incomprehensible to human thought. There is a sense in which to
Paul, as well as to the Athenians--to the Christian as well as to the
pagan--to the philosopher as well as to the peasant--God is "_the
unknown_," and in which he must forever remain the incomprehensible.
This has been confessed by all thoughtful minds in every age. It was
confessed by Plato. To his mind God is "the ineffable," the unspeakable.
Zophar, the friend of Job, asks, "Canst thou by searching find out God?
Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection?" This knowledge is "high
as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?"
Does not Wesley teach us to sing,

                      "Hail, Father, whose creating call
                         Unnumbered worlds attend;
                       Jehovah, comprehending all,
                         Whom none can comprehend?"

To his mind, as well as to the mind of the Athenian, God was "the great
unseen, unknown." "Beyond the universe and man," says Cousin, "there
remains in God something unknown, impenetrable, incomprehensible. Hence,
in the immeasurable spaces of the universe, and beneath all the
profundities of the human soul, God escapes us in this inexhaustible
infinitude, whence he is able to draw without limit new worlds, new
beings, new manifestations. God is therefore to us
_incomprehensible_."[110] And without making ourselves in the least
responsible for Hamilton's "negative" doctrine of the Infinite, or even
responsible for the full import of his words, we may quote his
remarkable utterances on this subject: "The Divinity is in part
concealed and in part revealed. He is at once known and unknown. But the
last and highest consecration of all true religion must be an altar 'to
the unknown God.' In this consummation nature and religion, Paganism and
Christianity, are at one."[111]

[Footnote 110: "Lectures," vol. i. p. 104.]

[Footnote 111: "Discussions on Philosophy," p. 23.]

When, therefore, the apostle affirms that while the Athenians worshipped
the God whom he proclaimed they "knew him not," we can not understand
him as saying they were destitute of all faith in the being of God, and
of all ideas of his real character. Because for him to have asserted
they had _no_ knowledge of God would not only have been contrary to all
the facts of the case, but also an utter contradiction of all his
settled convictions and his recorded opinions. There is not in modern
times a more earnest asserter of the doctrine that the human mind has an
intuitive cognition of God, and that the external world reveals God to
man. There is a passage in his letter to the Romans which is justly
entitled to stand at the head of all discourses on "natural theology,"
Rom. i. 19-21. Speaking of the heathen world, who had not been favored,
as the Jews, with a verbal revelation, he says, "That which may be known
of God is manifest _in_ them," that is, in the constitution and laws of
their spiritual nature, "for God hath showed it unto them" in the voice
of reason and of conscience, so that in the instincts of our hearts, in
the elements of our moral nature, in the ideas and laws of our reason,
we are taught the being of a God. These are the subjective teachings of
the human soul.

Not only is the being of God revealed to man in the constitution and
laws of his rational and moral nature, but God is also manifested to us
objectively in the realm of things around us; therefore Paul adds, "The
invisible things of him, even his eternal power and Godhead, from the
creation are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are
made." The world of sense, therefore, discloses the being and
perfections of God. The invisible attributes of God are made apparent by
the things that are visible. Forth out of nature, as the product of the
Divine Mind, the supernatural shines. The forces, laws, and harmonies of
the universe are indices of the presence of a presiding and informing
Intelligence. The creation itself is an example of God's coming forth
out of the mysterious depths of his own eternal and invisible being, and
making himself apparent to man. There, on the pages of the volume of
nature, we may read, in the marvellous language of symbol, the grand
conceptions, the glorious thoughts, the ideals of beauty which dwell in
the uncreated Mind, These two sources of knowledge--the subjective
teachings of God in the human soul, and the objective manifestations of
God in the visible universe--harmonize, and, together, fill up the
complement of our natural idea of God. They are two hemispheres of
thought, which together form one full-orbed fountain of light, and ought
never to be separated in our philosophy. And, inasmuch as this divine
light shines on all human minds, and these works of God are seen by all
human eyes, the apostle argues that the heathen world "is without
excuse, because, knowing God (γνόντες τὸν Θεόν) they did not glorify him
as God, neither were thankful; but in their reasonings they went astray
after vanities, and their hearts, being void of wisdom, were filled with
darkness. Calling themselves wise, they were turned into fools, and
changed the glory of the imperishable God for idols graven in the
likeness of perishable man, or of birds, and beasts, and creeping
things,...and they bartered the truth of God for lies, and reverenced
and worshipped the things made rather than the Maker, who is blessed
forever. Amen."[112]

[Footnote 112: Rom. i. 21-25, Conybeare and Howson's translation.]

The brief and elliptical report of Paul's address on Mars' Hill must
therefore, in all fairness, be interpreted in the light of his more
carefully elaborated statements in the Epistle to the Romans. And when
Paul intimates that the Athenians "knew not God," we can not understand
him as saying they had _no_ knowledge, but that their knowledge was
imperfect. They did not know God as Creator, Father, and Ruler; above
all, they did not know him as a pardoning God and a sanctifying Spirit.
They had not that knowledge of God which purifies the heart, and changes
the character, and gives its possessor eternal life.

The apostle clearly and unequivocally recognizes this truth, that the
idea of God is connatural to the human mind; that in fact there is not
to be found a race of men upon the face of the globe utterly destitute
of some idea of a Supreme Being. Wherever human reason has had its
normal and healthful development, it has spontaneously and necessarily
led the human mind to the recognition of a God. The Athenians were no
exception to this general law. They believed in the existence of one
supreme and eternal Mind, invisible, incomprehensible, infeffable--"the
unknown God."

2. The Athenians had also that consciousness of dependence upon God
which is the foundation of all the primary religious emotions.

When the apostle affirmed that "in God we live, and move, and have our
being," he uttered the sentiments of many, if not all, of his hearers,
and in support of that affirmation he could quote the words of their own
poets, for we are also his offspring; [113] and, as his offspring, we
have a derived and a dependent being. Indeed, this consciousness of
dependence is analogous to the feeling which is awakened in the heart of
a child when its parent is first manifested to its opening mind as the
giver of those things which it immediately needs, as its continual
protector, and as the preserver of its life. The moment a man becomes
conscious of his own personality, that moment he becomes conscious of
some relation to another personality, to which he is subject, and on
which he depends.[114]

[Footnote 113:

          "Jove's presence fills all space, upholds this ball;
           All need his aid; his power sustains us all,
          _For we his offspring are_."
                         Aratus, "The Phænomena," book v. p. 5.

Aratus was a poet of Cilicia, Paul's native province. He flourished B.C.
277.

       "Great and divine Father, whose names are many,
        But who art one and the same unchangeable, almighty power;
        O thou supreme Author of nature!
        That governest by a single unerring law!
                      Hail King!
        For thou art able, to enforce obedience from all frail mortals,
       _Because we are all thine offspring,_
        The image and the echo only of thy eternal voice."
                                        Cleanthes, "Hymn to Jupiter."

Cleanthes was the pupil of Zeno, and his successor as chief of the Stoic
philosophers.]

[Footnote 114: "As soon as a man becomes conscious of himself, as soon
as he perceives himself as distinct from other persons and things, he at
the same moment becomes conscious of a higher self, a higher power,
without which he feels that neither he nor any thing else would have any
life or reality. We are so fashioned that as soon as we awake we feel on
all sides our dependence on something else; and all nations join in some
way or another in the words of the Psalmist, 'It is He that made us, not
we ourselves.' This is the first _sense_ of the Godhead, the _sensus
numinis_, as it has well been called; for it is a _sensus_, an immediate
perception, not the result of reasoning or generalization, but an
intuition as irresistible as the impressions of our senses.... This
_sensus numinis_, or, as we may call it in more homely language,
_faith_, is the source of all religion; it is that without which no
religion, whether true or false, is possible."--Max Müller, "Science of
Language," Second Series, p. 455.]

A little reflection will convince us that this is the necessary order in
which human consciousness is developed.

There are at least two fundamental and radical tendencies in human
personality, namely, to _know_ and to _act_. If we would conceive of
them as they exist in the innermost sphere of selfhood, we must
distinguish the first as _self-consciousness_, and the second as
_self-determination_. These are unquestionably the two factors of human
personality.

If we consider the first of these factors more closely, we shall
discover that self-consciousness exists under limitations and
conditions. Man can not become clearly conscious of _self_ without
distinguishing himself from the outer world of sensation, nor without
distinguishing self and the world from another being upon whom they
depend as the ultimate substance and cause. Mere _cœnœesthesis_ is not
consciousness. Common feeling is unquestionably found among the lowest
forms of animal life, the protozoa; but it can never rise to a clear
consciousness of personality until it can distinguish itself from
sensation, and acquire a presentiment of a divine power, on which self
and the outer world depend. The _Ego_ does not exist for itself, can not
perceive itself, but by distinguishing itself from the ceaseless flow
and change of sensation, and by this act of distinguishing, the _Ego_
takes place in consciousness. And the _Ego_ can not perceive itself, nor
cognize sensation as a state or affection of the _Ego_ except by the
intervention of the reason, which supplies the two great fundamental
laws of causality and substance. The facts of consciousness thus
comprehend three elements--self, nature, and God. The determinate being,
the _Ego_, is never an absolutely independent being, but is always in
some way or other codetermined by another; it can not, therefore, be an
absolutely original and independent, but must in some way or another be
a _derived_ and _conditioned_ existence.

Now that which limits and conditions human self-consciousness can not be
mere _nature_, because nature can not give what it does not possess; it
can not produce what is _toto genere_ different from itself.
Self-consciousness can not arise out of unconsciousness. This new
beginning is beyond the power of nature. Personal power, the creative
principle of all new beginnings, is alone adequate to its production.
If, then, self-consciousness exists in man, it necessarily presupposes
an absolutely _original_, therefore _unconditioned, self-consciousness_.
Human self-consciousness, in its temporal actualization, of course
presupposes a nature-basis upon which it elevates itself; but it is only
possible on the ground that an eternal self-conscious Mind ordained and
rules over all the processes of nature, and implants the divine spark of
the personal spirit with the corporeal frame, to realize itself in the
light-flame of human self-consciousness. The original light of the
divine self-consciousness is eternally and absolutely first and before
all. "Thus, in the depths of our own self-consciousness, as its
concealed background, the God-consciousness reveals itself to us. This
descent into our inmost being is at the same time an ascent to God.
Every deep reflection on ourselves breaks through the mere crust of
world-consciousness, which separates us from the inmost truth of our
existence, and leads us up to Him in whom we live and move and
are."[115]

[Footnote 115: Müller, "Christian Doctrine of Sin," vol. i. p. 81.]

Self-determination, equally with self-consciousness, exists in us under
manifold _limitations_. Self-determination is limited by physical,
corporeal, and mental conditions, so that there is "an impassable
boundary line drawn around the area of volitional freedom." But the most
fundamental and original limitation is that of _duty_. The
self-determining power of man is not only circumscribed by necessary
conditions, but also by the _moral law_ in the consciousness of man.
Self-determination alone does not suffice for the full conception of
responsible freedom; it only becomes, _will_, properly by its being an
intelligent and conscious determination; that is, the rational subject
is able previously to recognize "the right," and present before his mind
that which he _ought_ to do, that which he is morally bound to realize
and actualize by his own self-determination and choice. Accordingly we
find in our inmost being a _sense of obligation_ to obey the moral law
as revealed in the conscience. As we can not become conscious of self
without also becoming conscious of God, so we can not become properly
conscious of self-determination until we have recognized in the
conscience a law for the movements of the will.

Now this moral law, as revealed in the conscience, is not a mere
autonomy--a simple subjective law having no relation to a personal
lawgiver out of and above man. Every admonition of conscience directly
excites the consciousness of a God to whom man is accountable. The
universal consciousness of our race, as revealed in history, has always
associated the phenomena of conscience with the idea of a personal Power
above man, to whom he is subject and upon whom he depends. In every age,
the voice of conscience has been regarded as the voice of God, so that
when it has filled man with guilty apprehensions, he has had recourse to
sacrifices, and penances, and prayers to expatiate his wrath.

It is clear, then, that if man has _duties_ there must he a
self-conscious Will by whom these duties are imposed, for only a real
will can be legislative. If man has a _sense of obligation_, there must
be a supreme authority by which he is obliged. If he is _responsible_,
there must be a being to whom he is accountable.[116] It can not be said
that he is accountable to himself, for by that supposition the idea of
duty is obliterated, and "right" becomes identical with mere interest or
pleasure. It can not be said that he is simply responsible to
society--to mere conventions of human opinions and human
governments--for then "_right_" becomes a mere creature of human
legislation, and "_justice_" is nothing but the arbitrary will of the
strong who tyrannize over the weak. Might constitutes right. Against
such hypotheses the human mind, however, instinctively revolts. Mankind
feel, universally, that there is an authority beyond all human
governments, and a higher law above all human laws, from whence all
their powers are derived. That higher law is the Law of God, that
supreme authority is the God of Justice. To this eternally just God,
innocence, under oppression and wrong, has made its proud appeal, like
that of Prometheus to the elements, to the witnessing clouds, to coming
ages, and has been sustained and comforted. And to that higher law the
weak have confidently appealed against the unrighteous enactments of the
strong, and have finally conquered. The last and inmost ground of all
obligation is thus the conscious relation of the moral creature to God.
The sense of absolute dependence upon a Supreme Being compels man, even
while conscious of subjective freedom, to recognize at the same time his
obligation to determine himself in harmony with the will of Him "in whom
we live, and move, and are."

[Footnote 116: "The thought of God will wake up a terrible monitor whose
name is Judge."--Kant.]

This feeling of dependence, and this consequent sense of obligation, lie
at the very foundation of all religion. They lead the mind towards God,
and anchor it in the Divine. They prompt man to pray, and inspire him
with an instinctive confidence in the efficacy of prayer. So that prayer
is natural to man, and necessary to man. Never yet has the traveller
found a people on earth without prayer. Races of men have been found
without houses, without raiment, without arts and sciences, but never
without prayer any more than without speech. Plutarch wrote, eighteen
centuries ago, If you go through all the world, you may find cities
without walls, without letters, without rulers, without money, without
theatres, but never without temples and gods, or without _prayers_,
oaths, prophecies, and sacrifices, used to obtain blessings and
benefits, or to avert curses and calamities.[117] The naturalness of
prayer is admitted even by the modern unbeliever. Gerrit Smith says,
"Let us who believe that the religion of reason calls for the religion
of nature, remember that the flow of prayer is just as natural as the
flow of water; the prayerless man has become an unnatural man."[118] Is
man in sorrow or in danger, his most natural and spontaneous refuge is
in prayer. The suffering, bewildered, terror-stricken soul turns towards
God. "Nature in an agony is no atheist; the soul that knows not where to
fly, flies to God." And in the hour of deliverance and joy, a feeling of
gratitude pervades the soul--and gratitude, too, not to some blind
nature-force, to some unconscious and impersonal power, but gratitude to
God. The soul's natural and appropriate language in the hour of
deliverance is thanksgiving and praise.

[Footnote 117: "Against Kalotes," ch. xxxi.]

[Footnote 118: "Religion of Reason."]

This universal tendency to recognize a superior Power upon whom we are
dependent, and by whose hand our well-being and our destinies are
absolutely controlled, has revealed itself even amid the most
complicated forms of polytheistic worship. Amid the even and undisturbed
flow of every-day life they might be satisfied with the worship of
subordinate deities, but in the midst of sudden and unexpected
calamities, and of terrible catastrophes, then they cried to the Supreme
God.[119] "When alarmed by an earthquake," says Aulus Gellius, "the
ancient Romans were accustomed to pray, not to some one of the gods
individually, but to God in general, _as to the Unknown_."[120]

[Footnote 119: "At critical moments, when the deepest feelings of the
human heart are stirred, the old Greeks and Romans seem suddenly to have
dropped all mythological ideas, and to have fallen back on the universal
language of true religion."--Max Müller, "Science of Language." p. 436.]

[Footnote 120: Tholuck, "Nature and Influence of Heathenism," p. 23.]

"Thus also Minutius Felix says, 'When they stretch out their hands to
heaven they mention only God; and these forms of speech, _He is great_,
and _God is true_, and _If God grant_(which are the natural language of
the vulgar), are a plain confession of the truth of Christianity.' And
also Lactantius testifies, 'When they swear, and when they wish, and
when they give thanks, they name not many gods, but God only; the truth,
by a secret force of nature, thus breaking forth from them whether they
will or no;' and again he says, 'They fly to God; aid is desired of God;
they pray that God would help them; and when one is reduced to extreme
necessity, he begs for God's sake, and by his divine power alone
implores the mercy of men.'"[121] The account which is given by Diogenes
Laertius[122] of the erection of altars bearing the inscription "to the
unknown God," clearly shows that they had their origin in this general
sentiment of dependence on a higher Power. "The Athenians being
afflicted with pestilence invited Epimenides to lustrate their city. The
method adopted by him was to carry several sheep to the Areopagus,
whence they were left to wander as they pleased, under the observation
of persons sent to attend them. As each sheep lay down it was sacrificed
to _the propitious God_. By this ceremony it is said the city was
relieved; but as it was still unknown what deity was propitious, an
altar was erected _to the unknown God_ on every spot where a sheep had
been sacrificed."[123]

[Footnote 121: Cudworth, vol. i. p. 300.]

[Footnote 122: "Lives of Philosophers," book i., Epimenides.]

[Footnote 123: See Townsend's "Chronological Arrangement of New
Testament," note 19, part xii.; Doddridge's "Exposition;" and Barnes's
"Notes on Acts."]

"The unknown God" was their deliverer from the plague. And the erection
of an altar to him was a confession of their absolute dependence upon
him, of their obligation to worship him, as well as of their need of a
deeper knowledge of him. The gods who were known and named were not able
to deliver them in times of calamity, and they were compelled to look
beyond the existing forms of Grecian mythology for relief. Beyond all
the gods of the Olympus there was "one God over all," the Father of gods
and men, the Creator of all the subordinate local deities, upon whom
even these created gods were dependent, upon whom man was absolutely
dependent, and therefore in times of deepest need, of severest
suffering, of extremest peril, then they cried to the living, supreme,
eternal God.[124]

[Footnote 124: "The men and women of the Iliad and Odyssey are
habitually religious. The language of religion is often on their
tongues, as it is ever on the lips of every body in the East at this
day. The thought of the gods, and of their providence and government of
the world, is a familiar thought. They seem to have an abiding
conviction of their _dependence_ on the gods. The results of all actions
depend on the will of the gods; _it lies on their knees_ (θεῶν ἐν
γούνασι κεἶται, Od. i. 267), is the often repeated and significant
expression of their feeling of dependence."--Tyler, "Theology of Greek
Poets," p. 165.]

3. The Athenians developed in a high degree those religious emotions
which always accompany the consciousness of dependence on a Supreme
Being.

The first emotional element of all religion is _fear_. This is
unquestionably true, whether religion be considered from a Christian or
a heathen stand-point. "The _fear_ of the Lord is the beginning of
wisdom." Associated with, perhaps preceding, all definite ideas of God,
there exists in the human mind certain feelings of _awe_, and
_reverence_, and _fear_ which arise spontaneously in presence of the
vastness, and grandeur, and magnificence of the universe, and of the
power and glory of which the created universe is but the symbol and
shadow. There is the felt apprehension that, beyond and back of the
visible and the tangible, there is a _personal, living Power_, which is
the foundation of all, and which fashions all, and fills all with its
light and life; that "the universe is the living vesture in which the
Invisible has robed his mysterious loveliness." There is the feeling of
an _overshadowing Presence_ which "compasseth man behind and before, and
lays its hand upon him."

This wonderful presentiment of an invisible power and presence pervading
and informing all nature is beautifully described by Wordsworth in his
history of the development of the Scottish herdsman's mind:

     So the foundations of his mind were laid
     In such communion, not from terror free.
     While yet a child, and long before his time,
     Had he perceived the presence and the power
     Of greatness; and deep feelings had impressed
     So vividly great objects, that they lay
     Upon his mind like substances, whose presence
     Perplexed the bodily sense.
                            ... In the after-day
     Of boyhood, many an hour in caves forlorn,
     And 'mid the hollow depths of naked crags,
     He sat, and even in their fixed lineaments,
     Or from the power of a peculiar eye,
     Or by creative feeling overborne,
     Or by predominance of thought oppressed,
     Even in their fixed and steady lineaments
     He traced an ebbing and a flowing mind....
     Such was the Boy,--but for the growing Youth,
     What soul was his, when, from the naked top
     Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun
     Rise up, and bathe the world in light! He looked:
     Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth
     And ocean's liquid mass, in gladness lay
     Beneath him; far and wide the clouds were touched.
     And in their silent faces could he read
     Unutterable love. Sound needed none,
     Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank
     The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form
     All melted into him; they swallowed up
     His animal being; in them did he live,
     And by them did he live; they were his life,
     In such access of mind, in such high hour
     Of visitation from the living God.[125]

But it may be said this is all mere poetry; to which we answer, in the
words of Aristotle, "Poetry is a thing more philosophical and weightier
than history."[126] The true poet is the interpreter of nature. His soul
is in the fullest sympathy with the grand ideas which nature symbolizes,
and he "deciphers the universe as the autobiography of the Infinite
Spirit." Spontaneous feeling is a kind of inspiration.

It is true that all minds may not be developed in precisely the same
manner as Wordsworth's herdsman's, because the development of every
individual mind is modified in some measure by exterior conditions. Men
may contemplate nature from different points of view. Some may be
impressed with one aspect of nature, some with another. But none will
fail to recognize a mysterious _presence_ and invisible _power_ beneath
all the fleeting and changeful phenomena of the universe. "And sometimes
there are moments of tenderness, of sorrow, and of vague mystery which
bring the feeling of the Infinite Presence close to the human
heart."[127]

[Footnote 125: "The Wanderer."]

[Footnote 126: Poet, ch. ix.]

[Footnote 127: Robertson.]

Now we hold that _this feeling and sentiment of the Divine_--the
supernatural--exists in every mind. It may be, it undoubtedly is,
somewhat modified in its manifestations by the circumstances in which
men are placed, and the degree of culture they have enjoyed. The African
Fetichist, in his moral and intellectual debasement, conceives a
supernatural power enshrined in every object of nature. The rude Fijian
regards with dread, and even terror, the Being who darts the lightnings
and wields the thunderbolts. The Indian "sees God in clouds, and hears
him in the wind." The Scottish "herdsman" on the lonely mountain-top
"feels the presence and the power of greatness," and "in its fixed and
steady lineaments he sees an ebbing and a flowing mind." The
philosopher[128] lifts his eyes to "the starry heavens" in all the depth
of their concave, and with all their constellations of glory moving on
in solemn grandeur, and, to his mind, these immeasurable regions seem
"filled with the splendors of the Deity, and crowded with the monuments
of his power;" or he turns his eye to "the Moral Law within," and he
hears the voice of an intelligent and a righteous God. In all these
cases we have a revelation of the sentiment of the Divine, which dwells
alike in all human minds. In the Athenians this sentiment was developed
in a high degree. The serene heaven which Greece enjoyed, and which was
the best-loved roof of its inhabitants, the brilliant sun, the mountain
scenery of unsurpassed grandeur, the deep blue sea, an image of the
infinite, these poured all their fullness on the Athenian mind, and
furnished the most favorable conditions for the development of the
religious sentiments. The people of Athens spent most of their time in
the open air in communion with nature, and in the cheerful and temperate
enjoyment of existence. To recognize the Deity in the living powers of
nature, and especially in man, as the highest sensible manifestation of
the Divine, was the peculiar prerogative of the Grecian mind. And here
in Athens, art also vied with nature to deepen the religious sentiments.
It raised the mind to ideal conceptions of a beauty and a sublimity
which transcended all mere nature-forms, and by images, of supernatural
grandeur and loveliness presented to the Athenians symbolic
representations of the separate attributes and operations of the
invisible God. The plastic art of Greece was designed to express
religious ideas, and was consecrated by religious feeling. Thus the
facts of the case are strikingly in harmony with the words of the
Apostle: "All things which I behold bear witness to your carefulness in
religion," your "reverence for the Deity," your "fear of God."[129] "The
sacred objects" in Athens, and especially "the altar to the Unknown
God," were all regarded by Paul as evidences of their instinctive faith
in the invisible, the supernatural, the divine.

[Footnote 128: Kant, in "Critique of Practical Reason."]

[Footnote 129: See Parkhurst's Lexicon, under _Δεισιδαιμονία_, which
Suidas explains by εὐλάβεια περὶ τὸ θεῖον--_reverence for the Divine_,
and Hesychius by Φυβυθέια--_fear of God_. Also, Josephus, Antiq., book
x. ch. iii, § 2: "Manasseh, after his repentance and reformation, strove
to behave himself (τῇ δεισιδαιμονία χρῆσθαί) in the _most religious
manner_ towards God." Also see A. Clarke on Acts xvii.]

Along with this sentiment of the Divine there is also associated, in all
human minds, an _instinctive yearning_ after the Invisible; not a mere
feeling of curiosity to pierce the mystery of being and of life, but
what Paul designates "a feeling after God," which prompts man to seek
after a deeper knowledge, and a more immediate consciousness. To attain
this deeper knowledge--this more conscious realization of the being and
the presence of God, has been the effort of all philosophy and all
religion in all ages. The Hindoo Yogis proposes to withdraw into his
inmost self, and by a complete suspension of all his active powers to
become absorbed and swallowed up in the Infinite.[130] Plato and his
followers sought by an immediate abstraction to apprehend "the
unchangeable and permanent Being," and, by a loving contemplation, to
become "assimilated to the Deity," and in this way to attain the
immediate consciousness of God. The Neo-Platonic mystic sought by
asceticism and self-mortification to prepare himself for divine
communings. He would contemplate the divine perfections in himself; and
in an _ecstatic_ state, wherein all individuality vanishes, he would
realize a union, or identity, with the Divine Essence.[131] While the
universal Church of God, indeed, has in her purest days always taught
that man may, by inward purity and a believing love, be rendered capable
of spiritually apprehending, and consciously feeling, the presence of
God. Some may be disposed to pronounce this as all mere mysticism. We
answer, The living internal energy of religion is always _mystical_, it
is grounded in _feeling_--a "_sensus numinis_" common to humanity. It is
the mysterious sentiment of the Divine; it is the prolepsis of the human
spirit reaching out towards the Infinite; the living susceptibility of
our spiritual nature stretching after the powers and influences of the
higher world. It is upon this inner instinct of the supernatural that
all religion rests. I do not say every religious idea, but whatever is
positive, practical, powerful, durable, and popular. Everywhere, in all
climates, in all epochs of history, and in all degrees of civilization,
man is animated by the sentiment--I would rather say, the
presentiment--that the world in which he lives, the order of things in
the midst of which he moves, the facts which regularly and constantly
succeed each other, are not _all_. In vain he daily makes discoveries
and conquests in this vast universe; in vain he observes and learnedly
verifies the general laws which govern it; _his thought is not inclosed
in the world surrendered to his science_; the spectacle of it does not
suffice his soul, it is raised beyond it; it searches after and catches
glimpses of something beyond it; it aspires higher both for the universe
and itself; it aims at another destiny, another master.

[Footnote 130: Vaughan, "Hours with the Mystics," vol. i. p. 44.]

[Footnote 131: Id. ib., vol. i. p. 65.]

      "'Par delà tous ces cieux le Dieu des cieux réside.'"[132]

So Voltaire has said, and the God who is beyond the skies is not nature
personified, but a supernatural Personality. It is to this highest
Personality that all religions address themselves. It is to bring man
into communion with Him that they exist.[133]

[Footnote 132: "Beyond all these heavens the God of the heavens
resides."]

[Footnote 133: Guizot, "L'Eglise et la Societé Chretiennes" en 1861.]

4. The Athenians had that deep consciousness of sin and guilt, and of
consequent liability to punishment, which confesses the need of
expiation by piacular sacrifices.

Every man feels himself to be an accountable being, and he is conscious
that in wrong-doing he is deserving of blame and of punishment. Deep
within the soul of the transgressor is the consciousness that he is a
guilty man, and he is haunted with the perpetual apprehension of a
retribution which, like the spectre of evil omen, crosses his every
path, and meets him at every turn.

     "'Tis guilt alone,
       Like brain-sick frenzy in its feverish mode,
       Fills the light air with visionary terrors,
       And shapeless forms of fear."

Man does not possess this consciousness of guilt so much as it holds
possession of him. It pursues the fugitive from justice, and it lays
hold on the man who has resisted or escaped the hand of the executioner.
The sense of guilt is a power over and above man; a power so wonderful
that it often compels the most reckless criminal to deliver himself up,
with the confession of his deed, to the sword of justice, when a
falsehood would have easily protected him. Man is only able by
persevering, ever-repeated efforts at self-induration, against the
remonstrances of conscience, to withdraw himself from its power. His
success is, however, but very partial; for sometimes, in the moments of
his greatest security, the reproaches of conscience break in upon him
like a flood, and sweep away all his refuge of lies. "The evil
conscience is the divine bond which binds the created spirit, even in
deep apostasy, to its Original. In the consciousness of guilt there is
revealed the essential relation of our spirit to God, although
misunderstood by man until he has something higher than his evil
conscience. The trouble and anguish which the remonstrances of this
consciousness excite--the inward unrest which sometimes seizes the slave
of sin--are proofs that he has not quite broken away from God."[134]

[Footnote 134: Müller, "Christian Doctrine of Sin," vol. i. pp. 225,
226.]

In Grecian mythology there was a very distinct recognition of the power
of conscience, and a reference of its authority to the Divinity,
together with the idea of retribution. Nemesis was regarded as the
impersonation of the upbraidings of conscience, of the natural dread of
punishment that springs up in the human heart after the commission of
sin. And as the feeling of remorse may be considered as the consequence
of the displeasure and vengeance of an offended God, Nemesis came to be
regarded as the goddess of retribution, relentlessly pursuing the guilty
until she has driven them into irretrievable woe and ruin. The Erinyes
or Eumenides are the deities whose business it is to punish, in hades,
the crimes committed upon earth. When an aggravated crime has excited
their displeasure they manifest their greatest power in the disquietude
of conscience.

Along with this deep consciousness of guilt, and this fear of
retribution which haunts the guilty mind, there has also rested upon the
heart of universal humanity a deep and abiding conviction that
_something must be done to expiate the guilt of sin_--some restitution
must be made, some suffering must be endured,[135] some sacrifice
offered to atone for past misdeeds. Hence it is that men in all ages
have had recourse to penances and prayers, to self-inflicted tortures
and costly sacrifices to appease a righteous anger which their sins had
excited, and avert an impending punishment. That sacrifice to atone for
sin has prevailed universally--that it has been practised "_sem-per,
ubique, et ab omnibus,_" always, in all places, and by all men--will not
be denied by the candid and competent inquirer. The evidence which has
been collected from ancient history by Grotius and Magee, and the
additional evidence from contemporaneous history, which is being now
furnished by the researches of ethnologists and Christian missionaries,
is conclusive. No intelligent man can doubt the fact. Sacrificial
offerings have prevailed in every nation and in every age. "Almost the
entire worship of the pagan nations consisted in rites of deprecation.
Fear of the Divine displeasure seems to have been the leading feature of
their religious impressions; and in the diversity, the costliness, the
cruelty of their sacrifices they sought to appease gods to whose wrath
they felt themselves exposed, from a consciousness of sin, unrelieved by
any information as to the means of escaping its effects."[136]

[Footnote 135: Punishment is the penalty due to sin; or, to use the
favorite expression of Homer, not unusual in the Scriptures also, it is
the payment of a debt incurred by sin. When he is punished, the criminal
is said to pay off or pay back (άποτίνειν) his crimes; in other words,
to expiate or atone for them (Iliad, iv. 161,162),

      σύν τε μεγάλω ἀπέτισαν σίν σφῇσιν κεφαλῇσι γυναιξί τε καὶ
      τεκέεσσιν.

That is, they shall pay off, pay back, atone, etc., for their treachery
with a great price, with their lives, and their wives and
children.--Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets," p. 194.]

[Footnote 136: Magee, "On the Atonement," No. V. p. 30.]

It must be known to every one at all acquainted with Greek mythology
that the idea of _expiation_--atonement--was a fundamental idea of their
religion. Independent of any historical research, a very slight glance
at the Greek and Roman classics, especially the poets, who were the
theologians of that age, can leave little doubt upon this head.[137]
Their language everywhere announces the notion of _propitiation_, and,
particularly the Latin, furnishes the terms which are still employed in
theology. We need only mention the words ἱλασμός, ἱλάσκομαι, λύτρον,
περίψημα, as examples from the Greek, and _placare, propitiare, expiare,
piaculum_, from the Latin. All these indicate that the notion of
expiation was interwoven into the very modes of thought and framework of
the language of the ancient Greeks.

[Footnote 137: In Homer the doctrine is expressly taught that the gods
may, and sometimes do, remit the penalty, when duly propitiated by
prayers and sacrifices accompanied by suitable reparations ("Iliad," ix.
497 sqq.). "We have a practical illustration of this doctrine in the
first book of the Iliad, where Apollo averts the pestilence from the
army, when the daughter of his priest is returned without ransom, and a
_sacrifice_ (ἑλατόμβη) is sent to the altar of the god at sacred
Chrysa.... Apollo hearkens to the intercession of his priest, accepts
the sacred hecatomb, is delighted with the accompanying songs and
libations, and sends back the embassy with a favoring breeze, and a
favorable answer to the army, who meanwhile had been _purifying_
(ἀπελυμαίνοντο) themselves, and offering unblemished hecatombs of bulls
and goats on the shore of the sea which washes the place of their
encampment."

"The object of the propitiatory embassy to Apollo is thus stated by
Ulysses: Agamemnon, king of men, has sent me to bring back thy daughter
Chryses, and to offer a sacred hecatomb for (ὑπέρ) the Greeks, that we
may _propitiate_ (ιλασόμεσθα) the king, who now sends woes and many
groans upon the Argives" (442 sqq.).--Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets,"
pp. 196, 197.]

We do not deem it needful to discuss at length the question which has
been so earnestly debated among theologians, as to whether the idea of
expiation be a primitive and necessary idea of the human mind, or
whether the practice of piacular sacrifices came into the post-diluvian
world with Noah, as a positive institution of a primitive religion then
first directly instituted by God. On either hypothesis the practice of
expiatory rites derives its authority from God; in the latter case, by
an outward and verbal revelation, in the former by an inward and
intuitive revelation.

This much, however, must be conceded on all hands, that there are
certain fundamental intuitions, universal and necessary, which underlie
the almost universal practice of expiatory sacrifice, namely, _the
universal consciousness of guilt, and the universal conviction that
something must be done to expiate guilt_, to compensate for wrong, and
to atone for past misdeeds. But _how_ that expiation can be effected,
how that atonement can be made, is a question which reason does not seem
competent to answer. That personal sin can be atoned for by vicarious
suffering, that national guilt can be expiated and national punishment
averted by animal sacrifices, or even by human sacrifices, is repugnant
to rather than conformable with natural reason. There exists no
discernible connection between the one and the other. We may suppose
that eucharistic, penitential, and even deprecatory sacrifices may have
originated in the light of nature and reason, but we are unable to
account for the practice of piacular sacrifices for substitutional
atonement, on the same principle. The ethical principle, that one's own
sins are not transferable either in their guilt or punishment, is so
obviously just that we feel it must have been as clear to the mind of
the Greek who brought his victim to be offered to Zeus, as it is to the
philosophic mind of to-day.[138] The knowledge that the Divine
displeasure can be averted by sacrifice is not, by Plato, grounded upon
any intuition of reason, as is the existence of God, the idea of the
true, the just, and good, but on "tradition,"[139] and the
"interpretations" of Apollo. "To the Delphian Apollo there remains the
greatest, noblest, and most important of legal institutions--the
erection of temples, sacrifices, and other services to the gods,... and
what other services should be gone through with a view to their
_propitiation_. Such things as these, indeed, _we neither know
ourselves, nor in founding the State would we intrust them to others_,
if we be wise;... the god of the country is the natural interpreter to
all men about such matters."[140]

[Footnote 138: "He that hath done the deed, to suffer for it--thus cries
a proverb thrice hallowed by age."--Æschylus, "Choëph," 311.]

[Footnote 139: "Laws," book vi. ch. xv.]

[Footnote 140: "Republic," book iv. ch. v.]

The origin of expiatory sacrifices can not, we think, be explained
except on the principle of a primitive revelation and a positive
appointment of God. They can not be understood except as a
divinely-appointed symbolism, in which there is exhibited a confession
of personal guilt and desert of punishment; an intimation and a hope
that God will be propitious and merciful; and a typical promise and
prophecy of a future Redeemer from sin, who shall "put away sin by the
sacrifice of himself." This sacred rite was instituted in connection
with the _protevangelium_ given to our first parents; it was diffused
among the nations by tradition, and has been kept alive as a general,
and, indeed, almost universal observance, by that deep sense of sin, and
consciousness of guilt, and personal urgency of the need of a
reconciliation, which are so clearly displayed in Grecian mythology.

The legitimate inference we find ourselves entitled to draw from the
words of Paul, when fairly interpreted in the light of the past
religious history of the world, is, that the Athenians were a religious
people; that is, _they were, however unknowing, believers in and
worshippers of the One Supreme God_.




CHAPTER IV.

THE RELIGION OF THE ATHENIANS: ITS MYTHOLOGICAL AND SYMBOLICAL ASPECTS.


"That there is one Supreme Deity, both philosophers and poets, and even
the vulgar worshippers of the gods themselves frequently acknowledge;
which because the assertors of gods well understood, they affirm these
gods of theirs to preside over the several parts of the world, yet so
that there is only one chief governor. Whence it follows, that all their
other gods can be no other than ministers and officers which one
greatest God, who is omnipotent, hath variously appointed, and
constituted so as to serve his command."--LACTANTIUS.

The conclusion reached in the previous chapter that the Athenians were
believers in and worshippers of the One Supreme God, has been challenged
with some considerable show of reason and force, on the ground that they
were _Polytheists_ and _Idolaters_.

An objection which presents itself so immediately on the very face of
the sacred narrative, and which is sustained by the unanimous voice of
history, is entitled to the fullest consideration. And as the interests
of truth are infinitely more precious than the maintenance of any
theory, however plausible, we are constrained to accord to this
objection the fullest weight, and give to it the most impartial
consideration. We can not do otherwise than at once admit that the
Athenians were _Polytheists_--they worshipped "many gods" besides "the
unknown God." It is equally true that they were _Idolaters_--they
worshipped images or statues of the gods, which images were also, by an
easy metonymy, called "gods."

But surely no one supposes that this is all that can be said upon the
subject, and that, after such admissions, the discussion must be closed.
On the contrary, we have, as yet, scarce caught a glimpse of the real
character and genius of Grecian polytheistic worship, and we have not
made the first approach towards a philosophy of Grecian mythology.

The assumption that the heathen regarded the images "graven by art and
device of man" as the real creators of the world and man, or as having
any control over the destinies of men, sinks at once under the weight of
its own absurdity. Such hypothesis is repudiated with scorn and
indignation by the heathens themselves. Cotta, in _Cicero_, declares
explicitly: "though it be common and familiar language amongst us to
call corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus, yet who can think any one so mad as
to take that to be really a god that he feeds upon?"[141] And _Plutarch_
condemns the whole practice of giving the names of gods and goddesses to
inanimate objects, as absurd, impious, and atheistical: "they who give
the names of gods to senseless matter and inanimate things, and such as
are destroyed by men in the using, beget most wicked and atheistical
opinions in the minds of men, since it can not be conceived how these
things should be gods, for nothing that is inanimate is a god."[142] And
so also the Hindoo, the Buddhist, the American Indian, the Fijian of
to-day, repel the notion that their visible images are real gods, or
that they worship them instead of the unseen God.

[Footnote 141: Cudworth's "Intell. System," vol. ii. p. 257, Eng. ed.]

[Footnote 142: Quoted in Cudworth's "Intell. System," vol. ii. p. 258,
Eng. ed.]

And furthermore, that even the invisible divinities which these images
were designed to represent, were each independent, self-existent beings,
and that the stories which are told concerning them by Homer and Hesiod
were received in a literal sense, is equally improbable. The earliest
philosophers knew as well as we know, that the Deity, in order to be
Deity, must be either _perfect_ or nothing--that he must be _one_, not
many--without parts and passions; and they were scandalized and shocked
by the religious fables of the ancient mythology as much as we are.
_Xenophanes_, who lived, as we know, before Pythagoras, accuses Homer
and Hesiod of having ascribed to the gods every thing that is
disgraceful amongst men, as stealing, adultery, and deceit. He remarks
"that men seem to have created their gods, and to have given them their
own mind, and voice, and figure." He himself declares that "God is
_one,_ the greatest amongst gods and men, neither in form nor in thought
like unto men." He calls the battles of the Titans and the Giants, and
the Centaurs, "the inventions of former generations," and he demands
that God shall be praised in holy songs and nobler strains.[143]
Diogenes Laertius relates the following of _Pythagoras_, "that when he
descended to the shades below, he saw the soul of Hesiod bound to a
pillar of brass and gnashing his teeth; and that of Homer, as suspended
on a tree, and surrounded by serpents; as a punishment for the things
they had said of the gods."[144] These poets, who had corrupted
theology, _Plato_ proposes to exclude from his ideal Republic; or if
permitted at all, they must be subjected to a rigid expurgation. "We
shall," says he, "have to repudiate a large part of those fables which
are now in vogue; and, especially, of what I call the greater
fables,--the stories which Hesiod and Homer tell us. In these stories
there is a fault which deserves the gravest condemnation; namely, when
an author gives a _bad representation of gods and heroes_. We must
condemn such a poet, as we should condemn a painter, whose pictures bear
no resemblance to the objects which he tries to imitate. For instance,
the poet Hesiod related an ugly story when he told how Uranus acted, and
how Kronos had his revenge upon him. They are offensive stories, and
must not be repeated in our cities. Not yet is it proper to say, in any
case,--what is indeed untrue--that gods wage war against gods, and
intrigue and fight among themselves. Stories like the chaining of Juno
by her son Vulcan, and the flinging of Vulcan out of heaven for trying
to take his mother's part when his father was beating her, and all other
battles of the gods which are found in Homer, must be refused admission
into our state, _whether they are allegorical or not_. For a child can
not discriminate between what is allegorical and what is not; and
whatever is adopted, as a matter of belief, in childhood, has a tendency
to become fixed and indelible; and therefore we ought to esteem it as of
the greatest importance that the fables which children first hear should
be adapted, as far as possible, to promote virtue."[145]

[Footnote 143: Max Muller, "Science of Language," pp. 405, 406.]

[Footnote 144: "Lives," bk. viii. ch. xix. p. 347.]

[Footnote 145: "Republic," bk. ii. ch. xvii.]

If, then, poetic and allegorical representations of divine things are to
be permitted in the ideal republic, then the founders of the state are
to prescribe "the moulds in which the poets are to cast their fictions."

"Now what are these moulds to be in the case of _Theology?_ They may be
described as follows: It is right always to represent God as he really
is, whether the poet describe him in an epic, or a lyric, or a dramatic
poem. Now God is, beyond all else, _good in reality_, and therefore so
to be represented. But nothing that is good is hurtful. That which is
good hurts not; does no evil; is the cause of no evil. That which is
good is beneficial; is the cause of good. And, therefore, that which is
good is not the cause of _all_ which is and happens, but only of that
which is as it should be.... The good things we must ascribe to God,
whilst we must seek elsewhere, and not in him, the causes of evil
things."

We must, then, express our disapprobation of Homer, or any other poet,
who is guilty of such a foolish blunder as to tell us (Iliad, xxiv. 660)
that:

     'Fast by the threshold of Jove's court are placed
     Two casks--one stored with evil, one with good:'

and that he for whom the Thunderer mingles both--

     'He leads a life checkered with good and ill.'

But as for the man to whom he gives the bitter cup unmixed--

                                         'He walks
     The blessed earth unbless'd, go where he will.'

And if any one asserts that the violation of oaths and treaties by the
act of Pandarus was brought about by Athené and Zeus (Iliad, ii. 60), we
should refuse our approbation. Nor can we allow it to be said that the
strife and trial of strength between tween the gods (Iliad, xx.) was
instigated by Themis and Zeus.... Such language can not be used without
irreverence; it is both injurious to us, and contradictory in
itself.[146]

Inasmuch as God is perfect to the utmost in beauty and goodness, _he
abides ever the same_, and without any variation in his form. Then let
no poet tell us that (Odyss. xvii. 582)

                   'In similitude of strangers oft
     The Gods, who can with ease all shapes assume,
     Repair to populous cities.'

And let no one slander Proteus and Thetis, or introduce in tragedies, or
any other poems, Hera transformed into the guise of a princess
collecting

     'Alms for the life-giving children of Inachus, river of Argos,'

not to mention many other falsehoods which we must interdict.[147]

"When a poet holds such language concerning the gods, we shall be angry
with him, and refuse him a chorus. Neither shall we allow our teachers
to use his writings for the instruction of the young, if we would have
our guards grow up to be as god-like and god-fearing as it is possible
for men to be."[148]

We are thus constrained by the statements of the heathens themselves, as
well as by the dictates of common sense, to look beyond the external
drapery and the material forms of Polytheism for some deeper and truer
meaning that shall be more in harmony with the facts of the universal
religious consciousness of our race. The religion of ancient Greece
consisted in something more than the fables of Jupiter and Juno, of
Apollo and Minerva, of Venus and Bacchus. "Through the rank and
poisonous vegetation of mythic phraseology, we may always catch a
glimpse of an original stem round which it creeps and winds itself, and
without which it can not enjoy that parasitical existence which has been
mistaken for independent vitality."[149]

[Footnote 146: "Republic," bk. ii. ch. xix.]

[Footnote 147: "Republic," bk. ii. ch. xx. Much more to the same effect
may be seen in ch. ii.]

[Footnote 148: "Republic," bk. ii. ch. xxi.]

[Footnote 149: Max Müller, "Science of Language," 2d series, p. 433.]

It is an obvious truth, attested by the voice of universal consciousness
as revealed in history, that the human mind can never rest satisfied
within the sphere of sensible phenomena. Man is impelled by an inward
necessity to pass, in thought, beyond the boundary-line of sense, and
inquire after causes and entities which his reason assures him must lie
beneath all sensible appearances. He must and will interpret nature
according to the forms of his own personality, or according to the
fundamental ideas of his own reason. In the childlike subjectivity of
the undisciplined mind he will either transfer to nature the phenomena
of his own personality, regarding the world as a living organism which
has within it an informing soul, and thus attain a _pantheistic_
conception of the universe; or else he will fix upon some extraordinary
and inexplicable phenomenon of nature, and, investing it with
_super_natural significance, will rise from thence to a religious and
_theocratic_ conception of nature as a whole. An intelligence--a mind
_within_ nature, and inseparable from nature, or else _above_ nature and
governing nature, is, for man, an inevitable thought.

It is equally obvious that humanity can never relegate itself from a
supernatural origin, neither can it ever absolve itself from a permanent
correlation with the Divine. Man feels within him an instinctive
nobility. He did not arise out of the bosom of nature; in some
mysterious way he has descended from an eternal mind, he is "the
offspring of God." And furthermore, a theocratic conception of nature,
associated with a pre-eminent regard for certain apparently supernatural
experiences in the history of humanity, becomes the foundation of
governments, of civil authority, and of laws. Society can not be founded
without the aid of the Deity, and a commonwealth can only be organized
by Divine interposition. "A Ceres must appear and sow the fields with
corn." And a Numa or a Lycurgus must be heralded by the oracle as

     "Dear to Jove, and all who sit in the halls of the Olympus."

He must be a "descendant of Zeus," appointed by the gods to rule, and
one who will "prove himself a god." These divinely-appointed rulers were
regarded as the ministers of God, the visible representatives of the
unseen Power which really governs all. The divine government must also
have its invisible agents--its Nemesis, and Themis, and Diké, the
ministers of law, of justice, and of retribution; and its Jupiter, and
Juno, and Neptune, and Pluto, ruling, with delegated powers, in the
heavens, the air, the sea, and the nethermost regions. So that, in fact,
there exists no nation, no commonwealth, no history without a Theophany,
and along with it certain sacred legends detailing the origin of the
people, the government, the country itself, and the world at large. This
is especially true of India, Egypt, Greece, and Rome. Their primitive
history is eminently _mythological_.

Grecian polytheism can not be otherwise regarded than as a
poetico-historical religion of _myth_ and _symbol_ which is under-laid
by a natural Theism; a parasitical growth which winds itself around the
original stem of instinctive faith in a supernatural Power and Presence
which pervades the universe. The myths are oral traditions, floating
down from that dim; twilight of _poetic_ history, which separates real
history, with its fixed chronology, from the unmeasured and unrecorded
eternity--faint echoes from that mystic border-land which divides the
natural from the supernatural, and in which they seem to have been
marvellously commingled. They are the lingering memories of those
manifestations of God to men, in which he or his celestial ministers
came into visible intercourse with our race; the reality of which is
attested by sacred history. In all these myths there is a theogonic and
cosmogonic element. They tell of the generation of the celestial and
aërial divinities--the subordinate agents and ministers of the Divine
government. They attempt an explanation of the genesis of the visible
universe, the origin of humanity, and the development of human society.
In the presence of history, the substance of these myths is preserved by
_symbols_, that is, by means of natural or artificial, real or striking
objects, which, by some analogy or arbitrary association, shall suggest
the _idea_ to the mind. These symbols were designed to represent the
invisible attributes and operations of the Deity; the powers that
vitalize nature, that control the elements, that preside over cities,
that protect the nations: indeed, all the agencies of the physical and
moral government of God. Beneath all the pagan legends of gods, and
underlying all the elaborate mechanism of pagan worship, there are
unquestionably philosophical ideas, and theological conceptions, and
religious sentiments, which give as meaning, and even a mournful
grandeur to the whole.

Whilst the pagan polytheistic worship is, under one aspect, to be
regarded as a departure from God, inasmuch as it takes away the honor
due to God alone, and transfers it to the creature; still, under another
aspect, we can not fail to recognize in it the effort of the human mind
to fill up the chasm that seemed, to the undisciplined mind, to separate
God and man--and to bridge the gulf between the visible and the
invisible, the finite and the infinite. It was unquestionably an attempt
to bring God nearer to the sense and comprehension of man. It had its
origin in that instinctive yearning after the supernatural, the Divine,
which dwells in all human hearts, and which has revealed itself in all
philosophies, mysticisms, and religions.[150] This longing was
stimulated by the contemplation of the living beauty and grandeur of the
visible universe, which, to the lively fancy and deep feeling of the
Greeks, seemed as the living vesture of the Infinite Mind,--the temple
of the eternal Deity. In this visible universe the Divinity was partly
revealed, and partly concealed. The unity of the all-pervading
Intelligence was veiled beneath an apparent diversity of power, and a
manifoldness of operations. They caught some glimpses of this universal
presence in nature, but were more immediately and vividly impressed by
the several manifestations of the divine perfections and divine
operations, as so many separate rays of the Divinity, or so many
subordinate agents and functionaries employed to execute the will and
carry out the purposes of the Supreme Mind.[151] That unseen,
incomprehensible Power and Presence was perceived in the sublimity of
the deep blue sky, the energy of the vitalizing sun, the surging of the
sea, the rushing wind, the roaring thunder, the ripening corn, and the
clustering vine. To these separate manifestations of the Deity they gave
_personal names_, as Jupiter to the heavens, Juno to the air, Neptune to
the sea, Ceres to the corn, and Bacchus to the vine. These personals
denoted, not the things themselves, but the invisible, divine powers
supposed to preside over those several departments of nature. By a kind
of prosopopœia "they spake of the things in nature, and parts of the
world, as persons--and consequently as so many gods and goddesses--yet
so as the intelligent might easily understand their meaning, _that these
were in reality nothing else but so many names and notions of that one
Numen,--divine force and power which runs through all the world,
multiformly displaying itself._"[152] "Their various deities were but
different names, different conceptions, of that Incomprehensible Being
which no _thought_ can reach, and no _language_ express."[153] Having
given to these several manifestations of the Divinity personal names,
they now sought to represent them to the eye of sense by _visible
forms_, as the symbols or images of the perfections of the unseen, the
incomprehensible, the unknown God. And as the Greeks regarded man as the
first and noblest among the phenomena of nature, they selected the human
form as the highest sensible manifestation of God, the purest symbol of
the Divinity. Grecian polytheism was thus a species of _mythical
anthropomorphism_.

[Footnote 150: The original constitution of man is such that he "seeks
after" God Acts xvii. 27. "All men yearn after the gods" (Homer,
"Odyss." iii. 48).]

[Footnote 151: "Heathenism springs directly from this, that the mind
lays undue stress upon the bare letter in the book of creation; that it
separates and individualizes its objects as far as possible; that it
places the sense of the individual part, in opposition to the sense of
the whole,--to the _analogia fidei_ or _spiritus_ which alone gives
unity to the book of nature, while it dilutes and renders as transitory
as possible the sense of the universal in the whole.... And as it laid
great stress upon the letter in the book of nature, it fell into
polytheism. The particular symbol of the divine, or of the Godhead,
became a myth of some special deity."--Lange's "Bible-work," Genesis, p.
23.]

[Footnote 152: Cudworth, "Intellect. System," vol. i. p. 308.]

[Footnote 153: Max Müller, "Science of Language," p. 431.]

A philosophy of Grecian mythology, such as we have outlined in the
preceding paragraphs, is, in our judgment, perfectly consistent with the
views announced by Paul in his address to the Athenians. He intimates
that the Athenians "thought that the Godhead was _like unto_ (ἐ ναι
ὄμοιον)--to be imaged or represented by human art--by gold, and silver,
and precious stone graven by art, and device of man;" that is, they
thought the perfections of God could be represented to the eye by an
image, or symbol. The views of Paul are still more articulately
expressed in Romans, i. 23, 25: "They changed the glory of the
incorruptible God into the _similitude of an image_ of corruptible
man,.... and they worshipped and served the thing made, παρά--_rather_
than, or _more_ than the Creator." Here, then, the apostle intimates,
first, that the heathen _knew_ God,[154] and that they worshipped God.
They worshipped the creature besides or even more than God, but still
they also worshipped God. And, secondly, they represented the
perfections of God by an image, and under this, as a "_likeness_" or
symbol, they indirectly worshipped God. Their religious system was,
then, even to the eye of Paul, a _symbolic_ worship--that is, the
objects of their devotion were the _ὁμοιώματα_--the similitudes, the
likenesses, the images of the perfections of the invisible God.

[Footnote 154: Verse 21.]

It is at once conceded by us, that the "sensus numinis," the natural
intuition of a Supreme Mind, whose power and presence are revealed in
nature, can not maintain itself, as an influential, and vivifying, and
regulative belief amongst men, without the continual supernatural
interposition of God; that is, without a succession of Divine
revelations. And further, we grant that, instead of this symbolic mode
of worship deepening and vitalizing the sense of God as a living power
and presence, there is great danger that the symbol shall at length
unconsciously take the place of God, and be worshipped instead of Him.
From the purest form of symbolism which prevailed in the earliest ages,
there may be an inevitable descent to the rudest form of false worship,
with its accompanying darkness, and abominations, and crimes; but, at
the same time, let us do justice to the religions of the ancient
world--the childhood stammerings of religious life--which were something
more than the inventions of designing men, or the mere creations of
human fancy; they were, in the words of Paul, "a _seeking after God_, if
haply they might feel after him, and find him, who is not far from any
one of us." It can not be denied that the more thoughtful and
intelligent Greeks regarded the visible objects of their devotion as
mere symbols of the perfections and operations of the unseen God, and of
the invisible powers and subordinate agencies which are employed by him
in his providential and moral government of the world. And whatever
there was of misapprehension and of "ignorance" in the popular mind, we
have the assurance of Paul that it was "_overlooked_" by God.

The views here presented will, we venture to believe, be found most in
harmony with a true philosophy of the human mind; with the religious
phenomena of the world; and, as we shall subsequently see, with the
writings of those poets and philosophers who may be fairly regarded as
representing the sentiments and opinions of the ancient world. At the
same time, we have no desire to conceal the fact that this whole
question as to the origin, and character, and philosophy of the
mythology and symbolism of the religions of the ancient world has been a
subject of earnest controversy from Patristic times down to the present
hour, and that even to-day there exists a wide diversity of opinion
among philosophers, as well as theologians.

The principal theories offered may be classed as the _ethical_, the
_physical_, and the _historical_, according to the different objects the
framers of the myths are supposed to have had in view. Some have
regarded the myths as invented by the priests and wise men of old for
the improvement and government of society, as designed to give authority
to laws, and maintain social order.[155] Others have regarded them as
intended to be allegorical interpretations of physical phenomena--the
poetic embodiment of the natural philosophy of the primitive races of
men;[156] whilst others have looked upon them as historical legends,
having a substratum of fact, and, when stripped of the supernatural and
miraculous drapery which accompanies fable, as containing the history of
primitive times.[157] Some of the latter class have imagined they could
recognize in Grecian mythology traces of sacred personages, as well as
profane; in fact, a dimmed image of the patriarchal traditions which are
preserved in the Old Testament scriptures.[158]

It is beyond our design to discuss all the various theories presented,
or even to give a history of opinions entertained.[159] We are fully
convinced that the hypothesis we have presented in the preceding pages,
viz., _that Grecian mythology was a grand symbolic representation of the
Divine as manifested in nature and providence_, is the only hypothesis
which meets and harmonizes all the facts of the case. This is the theory
of Plato, of Cudworth, Baumgarten, Max Müller, and many other
distinguished scholars.

[Footnote 155: Empedocles, Metrodorus.]

[Footnote 156: Aristotle.]

[Footnote 157: Hecatæus, Herodotus, some of the early Fathers, Niebuhr,
J.H. Voss, Arnold.]

[Footnote 158: Bochart, G.J. Vossius, Faber, Gladstone.]

[Footnote 159: To the English reader who desires an extended and
accurate acquaintance with the classic and patristic literature of this
deeply interesting subject, we commend the careful study of Cudworth's
"Intellectual System of the Universe," especially ch. iv. The style of
Cudworth is perplexingly involved, and his great work is unmethodical in
its arrangement and discussion. Nevertheless, the patient and
persevering student will be amply rewarded for his pains. A work of more
profound research into the doctrine of antiquity concerning God, and
into the real import of the religious systems of the ancient world, is,
probably, not extant in any language.]

There are two fundamental propositions laid down by Cudworth which
constitute the basis of this hypothesis.

1. _No well-authenticated instance can be furnished from among the Greek
Polytheists of one who taught the existence of a multiplicity of
independenty uncreated, self-existent deities; they almost universally_
_believed in the existence of_ ONE SUPREME, UNCREATED, ETERNAL GOD,
"_The Maker of all things_"--"_the Father of gods and men_,"--"_the sole
Monarch and Ruler of the world_."

2. _The Greek Polytheists taught a plurality of_"GENERATED DEITIES,"
_who owe their existence to the power and will of the Supreme God, who
are by Him invested with delegated powers, and who, as the agents of his
universal providence, preside over different departments of the created
universe_.

The evidence presented by Cudworth in support of his theses is so varied
and so voluminous, that it defies all attempts at condensation. His
volumes exhibit an extent of reading, of patient research, and of varied
learning, which is truly amazing. The discussion of these propositions
involves, in fact, nothing less than a complete and exhaustive survey of
the entire field of ancient literature, a careful study of the Greek and
Latin poets, of the Oriental, Greek, and Alexandrian philosophers, and a
review of the statements and criticisms of Rabbinical and Patristic
writers in regard to the religions of the pagan world. An adequate
conception of the varied and weighty evidence which is collected by our
author from these fields, in support of his views, could only be
conveyed by transcribing to our pages the larger portion of his
memorable _fourth_ chapter. But inasmuch as Grecian polytheism is, in
fact, the culmination of all the mythological systems of the ancient
world, the fully-developed flower and ripened fruit of the cosmical and
theological conceptions of the childhood-condition of humanity, we
propose to epitomize the results of his inquiry as to the _theological_,
opinions of the Greeks, supplying additional confirmation of his views
from other sources.

And first, he proves most conclusively that Orpheus, Homer, and
Hesiod,[160] who are usually designated "the theologians" of Greece, but
who were in fact the depravers and corrupters of pagan theology, do not
teach the existence of a multitude of _unmade, self-existent, and
independent deities_. Even they believed in the existence of _one_
uncreated and eternal mind, _one Supreme God_, anterior and superior to
all the gods of their mythology. They had some intuition, some
apperception of the _Divine_, even before they had attached to it a
sacred name. The gods of their mythology had all, save one, a temporal
origin; they were generated of Chaos and Night, by an active principle
called _Love_. "One might suspect," says Aristotle, that Hesiod, and if
there be any other who made _love_ or _desire_ a principle of things,
aimed at these very things (viz., the designation of the efficient cause
of the world); for Parmenides, describing the generation of the
universe, says:

     'First of all the gods planned he _love_;'

and further, Hesiod:

     'First of all was Chaos, afterwards Earth,
     With her spacious bosom,
     And _Love_, who is pre-eminent among all the immortals;'

as intimating here that in entities there should exist some _cause_ that
will impart motion, and hold bodies in union together. But how, in
regard to these, one ought to distribute them, as to the order of
priority, can be decided afterwards.[161]

[Footnote 160: We do not concern ourselves with the chronological
antecedence of these ancient Greek poets. It is of little consequence to
us whether Homer preceded Orpheus, or Orpheus Homer. They were not the
real creators of the mythology of ancient Greece. The myths were a
spontaneous growth of the earliest human thought even before the
separation of the Aryan family into its varied branches.

The study of Comparative Mythology, as well as of Comparative Language,
assures us that the myths had an origin much earlier than the times of
Homer and Orpheus. They floated down from ages on the tide of oral
tradition before they were systematized, embellished, and committed to
writing by Homer, and Orpheus, and Hesiod. And between the systems of
these three poets a perceptible difference is recognizable, which
reflects the changes that verbal recitations necessarily and
imperceptibly undergo.]

[Footnote 161: "Metaphysics," bk. i. ch. iv.]

Now whether this "first principle," called "_Love_," "the cause of
motion and of union" in the universe, was regarded as a personal Being,
and whether, as the ancient scholiast taught, Hesiod's love was "the
heavenly Love, which is also God, that other love that was born of Venus
being junior," is just now of no moment to the argument. The more
important inference is, that amongst the gods of Pagan theology but
_one_ is self-existent, or else none are. Because the Hesiodian gods,
which are, in fact, all the gods of the Greek mythology, "were either
all of them derived from chaos, love itself likewise being generated out
of it; or else love was supposed to be distinct from chaos, and the
active principle of the universe, from whence, together with chaos, all
the theogony and cosmogony was derived."[162] Hence it is evident the
poets did not teach the existence of a multiplicity of unmade,
self-existent, independent deities.

[Footnote 162: "Cudworth," vol. i. p. 287.]

The careful reader of Cudworth will also learn another truth of the
utmost importance in this connection, viz., _that the theogony of the
Greek poets was, in fact, a cosmogony_, the generation of the gods
being, in reality, the generation of the heavens, the sun, the moon, the
stars, and all the various powers and phenomena of nature. This is dimly
shadowed forth in the very names which are given to some of these
divinities. Thus Helios is the sun, Selena is the moon, Zeus the
sky--the deep blue heaven, Eos the dawn, and Ersē the dew. It is
rendered still more evident by the opening lines of Hesiod's
"Theogonia," in which he invokes the muses:

     "Hail ye daughters of Jupiter! Grant a delightsome song.
     Tell of the race of immortal gods, always existing,
     Who are the offspring of the earth, of the starry sky,
     And of the gloomy night, whom also the ocean nourisheth.
     Tell how the gods and the earth at first were made,
     And the rivers, and the mighty deep, boiling with waves,
     And the glowing stars, and the broad heavens above,
     And the gods, givers of good, born of these."

Where we see plainly that the generation of the gods is the generation
of the earth, the heaven, the stars, the seas, the rivers, and other
things produced by them. "But immediately after invocation of the Muses
the poet begins with Chaos, and Tartara, and Love, as the first
principles, and then proceeds to the production of the earth and of
night out of chaos; of the ether and of day, from night; of the starry
heavens, mountains, and seas. All which generation of gods is really
nothing but a poetic description of the cosmogonia; as through the
sequel of the poem all seems to be physiology veiled under fiction and
allegory.... Hesiod's gods are thus not only the animated parts of the
world, but also the other things of nature personified and deified, or
abusively called gods and goddesses."[163] The same is true both of the
Orphic and Homeric gods. "Their generation of the gods is the same with
the generation or creation of the world, both of them having, in all
probability, derived it from the Mosaic cabala, or tradition."[164]

But in spite of all this mythological obscuration, the belief in one
Supreme God is here and there most clearly recognizable. "That Zeus was
originally to the Greeks the Supreme God, the true God--nay, at some
time their only God--can be perceived in spite of the haze which
mythology has raised around his name."[165] True, they sometimes used
the word "Zeus" in a physical sense to denote the deep expanse of
heaven, and sometimes in a historic sense, to designate a hero or
deified man said to have been born in Crete. It is also true that the
Homeric Zeus is full of contradictions. He is "all-seeing," yet he is
cheated; he is "omnipotent," yet he is defied; he is "eternal," yet he
has a father; he is "just," yet he is guilty of crime. Now, as Müller
very justly remarks, these contradictions may teach us a lesson. If all
the conceptions of Zeus had sprung from one origin, these contradictions
could not have existed. If Zeus had simply and only meant the Supreme
God, he could not have been the son of Kronos (Time). If, on the other
hand, Zeus had been a mere mythological personage, as Eos, the dawn, and
Helios, the sun, he could never have been addressed as he is addressed
in the famous prayer of Achilles (Iliad, bk. xxi.).[166]

[Footnote 163: Cudworth, vol. i. pp. 321, 332.]

[Footnote 164: Id., ib., vol. i. p. 478.]

[Footnote 165: Max Müller, "Science of Language," p. 457.]

[Footnote 166: Id., ib., p. 458.]

In Homer there is a perpetual blending of the natural and the
supernatural, the human and divine. The _Iliad_ is an incongruous medley
of theology, physics, and history. In its gorgeous scenic
representations, nature, humanity, and deity are mingled in inextricable
confusion. The gods are sometimes supernatural and superhuman
personages; sometimes the things and powers of nature personified; and
sometimes they are deified men. And yet there are passages, even in
Homer, which clearly distinguish Zeus from all the other divinities, and
mark him out as the Supreme. He is "the highest, first of Gods" (bk.
xix. 284); "most great, most glorious Jove" (bk. ii. 474). He is "the
universal Lord" (bk. xi. 229); "of mortals and immortals king supreme,"
(bk. xii. 263); "over all the immortal gods he reigns in unapproached
pre-eminence of power" (bk. xv. 125). He is "the King of kings" (bk.
viii. 35), whose "will is sovereign" (bk. iv. 65), and his "power
invincible" (bk. viii. 35). He is the "eternal Father" (bk. viii. 77).
He "excels in wisdom gods and men; all human things from him proceed"
(bk. xiii. 708-10); "the Lord of counsel" (bk. i. 208), "the all-seeing
Jove" (bk. xiii. 824). Indeed the mere expression "Father of gods and
men" (bk. i. 639), so often applied to Zeus, and him _alone_, is proof
sufficient that, in spite of all the legendary stories of gods and
heroes, the idea of Zeus as the Supreme God, the maker of the world, the
Father of gods and men, the monarch and ruler of the world, was not
obliterated from the Greek mind.[167]

[Footnote 167: "In the order of legendary chronology Zeus comes after
Kronos and Uranos, but in the order of Grecian conception Zeus is the
prominent person, and Kronos and Uranos are inferior and introductory
precursors, set up in order to be overthrown, and to serve as mementos
of the powers of their conqueror. To Homer and Hesiod, as well as to the
Greeks universally, Zeus is the great, the predominant God, 'the Father
of gods and men,' whose power none of the gods can hope to resist, or
even deliberately think of questioning. All the other gods have their
specific potency, and peculiar sphere of action and duty, with which
Zeus does not usually interfere; but it is he who maintains the
lineaments of a providential government, as well over the phenomena of
Olympus as over the earth."--Grote, "Hist. of Greece," vol. i. p. 3.

Zeus is not only lord of heaven but likewise the ruler of the lower
world, and the master of the sea.--Welcher, "Griechische Götterlehre,"
vol. i. p. 164. The Zeus of the Greek poets is unquestionably the god of
whom Paul declared: In him we live and move, and have our being, as
certain of your own poets have also said--

     "'For we are his offspring.'"

Now whether this be a quotation from Aratus or Cleanthes, the language
of the poets is, "We are the offspring of Zeus;" consequently the Zeus
of the poets and the God of Christianity are the same God.

"The father of gods and men in Homer is, of course, the Universal Father
of the Scriptures."--Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets," p. 171.]

"When Homer introduces Eumaios, the swineherd, speaking of this life and
the higher powers that rule it, he knows only of just gods 'who hate
cruel deeds, but honor justice and the righteous works of men' (Od. xiv.
83). His whole life is built up on a complete trust in the divine
government of the world without any artificial helps, as the Erinys, the
Nemesis, or Moira. 'Eat,' says the swineherd, 'and enjoy what is here,
for _God_[168] will grant one thing, but another he will refuse,
whatever he will in his mind, for he can do all things' (Od. xiv. 444;
x. 306). This surely is religion, and it is religion untainted by
mythology. Again, the prayer of the female slave, grinding corn in the
house of Ulysses is religious in the truest sense--'Father Zeus, thou
who rulest over gods and men, surely thou hast just thundered in the
starry sky, and there is no cloud anywhere. Thou showest this as a sign
to some one. Fulfill now, even to me, miserable wretch, the prayer which
I now offer'" (Od. xx. 141-150).[169]

[Footnote 168: No sound reason can be assigned for translating _θεός_ by
"_a_ god" as some have proposed, rather than "_God_." But even if it
were translated "a god," this god must certainly be understood as Zeus.
Plato tells us that Zeus is the most appropriate name for God. "For in
reality the name Zeus is, as it were, a sentence; and persons dividing
it in two parts, some of us make use of one part, and some of another;
for some call him Ζήν, and some Δίς. But these parts, collected together
into one, exhibit the nature of the God;... for there is no one who is
more the cause of living, both to us and everything else, than he who is
the ruler and king of all. It follows, therefore, that this god is
rightly named, through whom _life_ is present in all living
beings."--Cratylus, § 28.

Θεός was usually employed, says Cudworth, to designate _God_ by way of
pre-eminence, θεοί to designate inferior divinities.]

[Footnote 169: Müller, "Science of Language," p. 434.]

The Greek tragedians were the great religious instructors of the
Athenian people. "Greek tragedy grew up in connection with religious
worship, and constituted not only a popular but a sacred element in the
festivals of the gods.... In short, strange as it may sound to modern
ears, the Greek stage was, more nearly than any thing else, the Greek
pulpit.[170] With a priesthood that offered sacrifice, but did not
preach, with few books of any kind, the people were, in a great measure,
dependent on oral instruction for knowledge; and as they learned their
rights and duties as citizens from their orators, so they hung on the
lips of the 'lofty, grave tragedians' for instruction touching their
origin, duty, and destiny as mortal and immortal beings.... Greek
tragedy is essentially didactic, ethical, mythological, and
religious."[171]

[Footnote 170: Pulpitum, a stage.]

[Footnote 171: Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets," pp. 205, 206.]

Now it is unquestionable that, with the tragedians, Zeus is the Supreme
God. Æschylus is pre-eminently the theological poet of Greece. The great
problems which lie at the foundation of religious faith and practice are
the main staple of nearly all his tragedies. Homer, Hesiod, the sacred
poets, had looked at these questions in their purely poetic aspects. The
subsequent philosophers, Plato and Aristotle, developed them more fully
by their didactic method. Æschylus stands on the dividing-line between
them, no less poetic than the former, scarcely less philosophical than
the latter, but more intensely practical, personal, and _theological_
than either. The character of the Supreme Divinity, as represented in
his tragedies, approaches more nearly to the Christian idea of God. He
is the Universal Father--Father of gods and men; the Universal Cause
(παναίτιος, Agamem. 1485); the All-seer and All-doer (παντόπτης,
πανεργέτης, ibid, and Sup. 139); the All-wise and All-controlling
(παγκρατής, Sup. 813); the Just and the Executor of justice (δικηφόρος,
Agamem. 525); true and incapable of falsehood (Prom. 1031);

     ψευδηγορεῖν γὰρ οὐκ ἐπίσταταί στόμα
     τὸ δίον, ἀλλὰ πᾶν ἔπος τελεῖ,--

holy (ἁγνός, Sup. 650); merciful (πρευμένης, ibid. 139); the God
especially of the suppliant and the stranger (Supplices, passim); the
most high and perfect One (τέλειον ὕψιστον, Eumen. 28); King of kings,
of the happy, most happy, of the perfect, most perfect power, blessed
Zeus (Sup. 522).[172] Such are some of the titles by which Zeus is most
frequently addressed; such the attributes commonly ascribed to him in
Æschylus.

Sophocles was the great master who carried Greek tragedy to its highest
perfection. Only seven out of more than a hundred of his tragedies have
come down to us. There are passages cited by Justin Martyr, Clemens
Alexandrinus, and others which are not found in those tragedies now
extant. The most famous and extensively quoted passage is given by
Cudworth.[173]

     Εἶς ταῖς ἀληθείαισιν, εἰς ἐστίν θεὸς,
     Ὂς οὐρανόν τ᾽ έτευξε καὶ γαῖαν μακρὰν,
     Πόντου τε χαροπὸν οἶδμα, κἀνέμων βίαν, κ. τ. λ.[174]

This "one only God" is Zeus, who is the God of justice, and reigns
supreme:

     "Still in yon starry heaven supreme,
     Jove, all-beholding, all-directing, dwells--
     To him commit thy vengeance."--"Electra," p. 174 sqq.

This description of the unsleeping, undecaying power and dominion of
Zeus is worthy of some Hebrew prophet--

     "Spurning the power of age, enthroned in might,
     Thou dwell'st mid heaven's broad light;
     This was in ages past thy firm decree,
     Is now, and shall forever be:
     That none of mortal race on earth shall know
     A life of joy serene, a course unmarked by woe."

     "Antigone," pp. 606-614.[175]

[Footnote 172: Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets," pp. 213, 214.]

[Footnote 173: "Intellectual Syst.," vol. i. p. 483.]

[Footnote 174: "There is, in truth, one only God, who made heaven and
earth, the sea, air, and winds," etc.]

[Footnote 175: "Theology of Greek Poets," p. 322.]

Whether we regard the poets as the principal theological teachers of the
ancient Greeks, or as the compilers, systematizers, and artistic
embellishers of the theological traditions and myths which were afloat
in the primitive Hellenic families, we can not resist the conclusion
that, for the masses of the people Zeus was the Supreme God, "the God of
gods" as Plato calls him. Whilst all other deities in Greece are more or
less local and tribal gods, Zeus was known in every village and to every
clan. "He is at home on Ida,[176] on Olympus, at Dodona.[177] While
Poseidon drew to himself the Æolian family, Apollo the Dorian, Athene
the Ionian, there was one powerful God for all the sons of
Hellen--Dorians, Æolians, Ionians, Achæans, viz., the Panhellenic
Zeus."[178] Zeus was the name invoked in their solemn nuncupations of
vows--

     "O Zeus, father, O Zeus, king."

In moments of deepest sorrow, of immediate urgency and need, of greatest
stress and danger, they had recourse to Zeus.

     "Courage, courage, my child!
     There is still in heaven the great Zeus;
     He watches over all things, and he rules.
     Commit thy exceeding bitter griefs to him,
     And be not angry against thine enemies,
     Nor forget them."[179]

[Footnote 176: "Iliad," bk. iii. 324.]

[Footnote 177: Bk. xvi. 268.]

[Footnote 178: Müller, p. 452.]

[Footnote 179: Sophocles, "Electra," v. 188.]

He was supplicated, as the God who reigns on high, in the prayer of the
Athenian--

     "Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, on the land of the Athenians and on their
     fields."

It has been urged that, as Zeus means the sky, therefore he is no more
than the deep concave of heaven personified and deified, and that
consequently Zeus is not the true, the only God. This argument is only
equalled in feebleness by that of the materialist, who argues that
"spiritus" means simply breath, therefore the breath is the soul. Even
if the Greeks remembered that, originally, Zeus meant the sky, that
would have no more perplexed their minds than the remembrance that
"thymos"--mind--meant originally blast. "The fathers of Greek theology
gave to that Supreme Intelligence, which they instinctively recognized
as above and ruling over the universe, the name of Zeus; but in doing
so, they knew well that by Zeus they meant more than the sky. The
unfathomable depth, the everlasting calm of the ethereal sky was to
their minds an image of that Infinite Presence which overshadows all,
and looks down on all. As the question perpetually recurred to their
minds, 'Where is he who abideth forever?' they lifted up their eyes, and
saw, as they thought, beyond sun, and moon, and stars, and all which
changes, and will change, the clear blue sky, the boundless firmament of
heaven. That never changed, that was always the same. The clouds and
storms rolled far below it, and all the bustle of this noisy world; but
there the sky was still, as bright and calm as ever. The Almighty Father
must be there, unchangeable in the unchangeable heaven; bright, and
pure, and boundless like the heavens, and like the heavens, too, afar
off."[180] So they named him after the sky, _Zeus_, the God who lives in
the clear heaven--the heavenly Father.

[Footnote 180: Kingsley, "Good News from God," p. 237, Am. ed.]

The high and brilliant sky has, in many languages and many religions,
been regarded as the dwelling-place of God. Indeed, to all of us in
Christian times "God is above;" he is "the God of heaven;" "his throne
is in the heavens;" "he reigns on high." Now, without doing any violence
to thought, the name of the abode might be transferred to him who dwells
in heaven. So that in our own language "heaven" may still be used as a
synonym for "God." The prodigal son is still represented as saying, I
have sinned against "_heaven_." And a Christian poet has taught us to
sing--

     "High _heaven_, that heard my solemn vow,
     That vow renewed shall daily hear," etc.

Whenever, therefore, we find the name of heaven thus used to designate
also the Deity, we must bear in mind that those by whom it was
originally employed were simply transferring that name from an object
visible to the eye of sense to another object perceived by the eye of
reason. They who at first called God "_Heaven_" had some conception
within them they wished to name--the growing image of a God, and they
fixed upon the vastest, grandest, purest object in nature, the deep blue
concave of heaven, overshadowing all, and embracing all, as the symbol
of the Deity. Those who at a later period called heaven "_God_" had
forgotten that they were predicating of heaven something more which was
vastly higher than the heaven.[181]

[Footnote 181: See "Science of Language," p. 457.]

Notwithstanding, then, that the instinctive, native faith of humanity in
the existence of one supreme God was overlaid and almost buried beneath
the rank and luxuriant vegetation of Grecian mythology, we can still
catch glimpses here and there of the solid trunk of native faith, around
which this parasitic growth of fancy is entwined. Above all the
phantasmata of gods and goddesses who descended to the plains of Troy,
and mingled in the din and strife of battle, we can recognize an
overshadowing, all-embracing Power and Providence that dwells on high,
which never descends into the battle-field, and is never seen by mortal
eyes--_the Universal King and Father,--the "God of gods_."

Besides the direct evidence, which is furnished by the poets and
mythologists, of the presence of this universal faith in "_the heavenly
Father_," there is also a large amount of collateral testimony that this
idea of one Supreme God was generally entertained by the Greek pagans,
whether learned or unlearned.[182] Dio Chrysostomus says that "all the
poets call the first and greatest God the Father, universally, of all
rational kind, as also the King thereof. Agreeably with which doctrine
of the poets do mankind erect altars to Jupiter-King (Διὸς βασιλέως) and
hesitate not to call him Father in their devotions" (Orat. xxxvi.). And
Maximus Tyrius declares that both the learned and the unlearned
throughout the pagan world universally agree in this; that there is one
Supreme God, the Father of gods and men. "If," says he, "there were a
meeting called of all the several trades and professions,... and all
were required to declare their sense concerning God, do you think that
the painter would say one thing, the sculptor another, the poet another,
and the philosopher another? No; nor the Scythian neither, nor the
Greek, nor the hyperborean. In regard to other things, we find men
speaking discordantly one to another, all men, as it were, differing
from all men... Nevertheless, on this subject, you may find universally
throughout the world one agreeing law and opinion; _that there is one
God, the King and Father of all, and many gods, the sons of God,
co-reigners together with God_"(Diss. i. p. 450).

[Footnote 182: Cudworth, vol. i. pp. 593, 594.]

From the poets we now pass to the philosophers. The former we have
regarded as reflecting the traditional beliefs of the unreasoning
multitude. The philosophers unquestionably represent the reflective
spirit, the speculative thought, of the educated classes of Greek
society. Turning to the writings of the philosophers, we may therefore
reasonably expect that, instead of the dim, undefined, and nebulous form
in which the religious sentiment revealed itself amongst the
unreflecting portions of the Greek populations, we shall find their
theological ideas distinctly and articulately expressed, and that we
shall consequently be able to determine their religious opinions with
considerable accuracy.

Now that Thales, Pythagoras, Xenophanes, Anaxagoras, Empedocles,
Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle were all believers in the existence of
one supreme, uncreated, eternal God, has been, we think, clearly shown
by Cudworth.[183]

[Footnote 183: Vol. i. pp. 491-554.]

In subsequent chapters on "_the Philosophers of Athens_," we shall enter
more fully into the discussion of this question. Meantime we assume
that, with few exceptions, the Greek philosophers were "genuine
Theists."

The point, however, with which we are now concerned is, _that whilst
they believed in one supreme, uncreated, eternal God, they at the same
time recognized the existence of a plurality of generated deities who
owe their existence to the power and will of the Supreme God, and who,
as the agents and ministers of His universal providence, preside over
different departments of the created universe_. They are at once
Monotheists and Polytheists--believers in "one God" and "many gods."
This is a peculiarity, an anomaly which challenges our attention, and
demands an explanation, if we would vindicate for these philosophers a
rational Theism.

Now that there can be but one infinite and absolutely perfect Being--one
supreme, uncreated, eternal God--is self-evident; therefore a
multiplicity of such gods is a contradiction and an impossibility. The
early philosophers knew this as well as the modern. The Deity, in order
to be Deity, must be one and not many: must be perfect or nothing. If,
therefore, we would do justice to these old Greeks, we must inquire what
explanations they have offered in regard to "the many gods" of which
they speak. We must ascertain whether they regarded these "gods" as
created or uncreated beings, dependent or independent, temporal or
eternal We must inquire in what sense the term "god" is applied to these
lesser divinities,--whether it is not applied in an accommodated and
therefore allowable sense, as in the sacred Scriptures it is applied to
kings and magistrates, and those who are appointed by God as the
teachers and rulers of men. "_They are called gods_ to whom the word of
God came."[184] And if it shall be found that all the gods of which they
speak, save _one_, are "generated deities"--dependent beings--creatures
and subjects of the one eternal King and Father, and that the name of
"god" is applied to them in an accommodated sense, then we have
vindicated for the old Greek philosophers a consistent and rational
Theism. In what relation, then, do the philosophers place "_the gods_"
to the one Supreme Being?

_Thales_, one of the most ancient of the Greek philosophers, taught the
existence of a plurality of gods, as is evident from that saying of his,
preserved by Diogenes Laertius, "The world has life, and is full of
gods."[185] At the same time he asserts his belief in one supreme,
uncreated Deity; "God is the oldest of all things, because he is unmade,
or ungenerated."[186] All the other gods must therefore have been
"generated deities," since there is but one unmade God, one only that
had "no beginning."[187]

[Footnote 184: See John x. 35.]

[Footnote 185: "Lives," bk. i.; see also Aristotle's "De Anima," bk. i.
ch. viii. πάντα θιῶν πληρη.]

[Footnote 186: "Lives," bk. i.]

[Footnote 187: "Lives," bk. i.]

_Xenophanes_ was also an assertor of many gods, and one God; but his one
God is unquestionably supreme. "There is one God, the greatest amongst
gods and men;" or, "God is one, the greatest amongst gods and men."[188]

_Empedocles_ also believed in one Supreme God, who "is wholly and
perfectly mind, ineffable, holy, with rapid and swift-glancing thought
pervading the whole world," and from whom all things else are
derived,--"all things that are upon the earth, and in the air and water,
may be truly called the works of God, who ruleth over the world, out of
whom, according to Empedocles, proceed all things, plants, men, beasts,
and _gods_."[189] The minor deities are therefore _made_ by God. It will
not be denied that _Socrates_ was a devout and earnest Theist. He taught
that "there is a Being whose eye pierces throughout all nature, and
whose ear is open to every sound; extending through all time, extended
to all places; and whose bounty and care can know no other bounds than
those fixed by his own creation."[190] And yet he also recognized the
existence of a plurality of gods, and in his last moments expressed his
belief that "it is lawful and right to pray to the gods that his
departure hence may be happy."[191] We see, however, in his words
addressed to Euthydemus, a marked distinction between these subordinate
deities and "Him who raised this whole universe, and still upholds the
mighty frame, who perfected every part of it in beauty and in goodness,
suffering none of these parts to decay through age, but renewing them
daily with unfading vigor;... even he, _the Supreme God_, still holds
himself invisible, and it is only in his works that we are capable of
admiring him."[192]

[Footnote 188: Clem. Alex., "Stromat." bk. v.]

[Footnote 189: Aristotle, "De Mundo," ch. vi.]

[Footnote 190: Xenophon's "Memorabilia," i. 4.]

[Footnote 191: "Phædo," § 152.]

[Footnote 192: "Memorabilia," iv. 3.]

It were needless to attempt the proof that _Plato_ believed in one
Supreme God, and _only_ one. This one Being is, with him, "the first
God;" "the greatest of the gods;" "the God over all;" "the sole
Principle of the universe." He is "the Immutable;" "the All-perfect;"
"the eternal Being." He is "the Architect of the world; "the Maker of
the universe; the Father of gods and men; the sovereign Mind which
orders all things, and passes through all things; the sole Monarch and
Ruler of the world.[193]

And yet remarkable as these expressions are, sounding, as they do, so
like the language of inspiration,[194] there can be no doubt that Plato
was also a sincere believer in a plurality of gods, of which, indeed,
any one may assure himself by reading the _tenth_ book of "the Laws."

[Footnote 193: See chap. xi.]

[Footnote 194: Some writers have supposed that Plato must have had
access through some medium to "the Oracles of God." See Butler, vol. ii.
p. 41.]

And, now that we have in Plato the culmination of Grecian speculative
thought, we may learn from him the mature and final judgment of the
ancients in regard to the gods of pagan mythology. We open the _Timæus_,
and here we find his views most definitely expressed. After giving an
account of the "generation" of the sun, and moon, and planets, which are
by him designated as "visible gods," he then proceeds "to speak
concerning the other divinities:" "We must on this subject assent to
those who in former times have spoken thereon; who were, as they said,
the offspring of the gods, and who doubtless were well acquainted with
their own ancestors..... Let then the genealogy of the gods be, and be
acknowledged to be, that which they deliver. Of Earth and Heaven the
children were Oceanus and Tethys; and of these the children were
Phorcys, and Kronos, and Rhea, and all that followed these; and from
these were born Zeus and Hera, and those who are regarded as brothers
and sisters of these, and others their offspring.

"When, then, _all the gods were brought into existence_, both those
which move around in manifest courses [the stars and planets], and those
which appear when it pleases them [the mythological deities], the
Creator of the Universe thus addressed them: 'Gods, and sons of gods, of
whom I am the father and the author, produced by me, ye are
indestructible because I will.... Now inasmuch as you have been
_generated_, you are hence _not_ immortal, nor wholly indissoluble; yet
you shall never be dissolved nor become subject to the fatality of
death, because _so I have willed_.... Learn, therefore, my commands.
Three races of mortals yet remain to be created. Unless these be
created, the universe will be imperfect, for it will not contain within
it every kind of animal.... In order that these mortal creatures may be,
and that this world may be really a cosmos, do you apply yourselves to
the creation of animals, imitating the exercises of my power in
_creating_ you.'"[195]

[Footnote 195: "Timæus," ch. xv.]

Here, then, we see that Plato carefully distinguishes between the sole
Eternal Author of the universe, on one hand, and the "souls," vital and
intelligent, which he attaches to the heavenly orbs, and diffuses
through all nature, on the other. These subordinate powers or agents are
all created, "_generated_ deities," who owe their continued existence to
the _will_ of God; and though intrusted with a sort of deputed creation,
and a subsequent direction and government of created things, they are
still only the _servants_ and the _deputies_ of the Supreme Creator, and
Director, and Ruler of all things. These subordinate agents and
ministers employed in the creation and providential government of the
world appear, in the estimation of Plato, to have been needed--

1. _To satisfy the demands of the popular faith_, which presented its
facts to be explained no less than those of external nature. Plato had
evidently a great veneration for antiquity, a peculiar regard for
"tradition venerable through ancient report," and "doctrines hoary with
years."[196] He aspired after supernatural light and guidance; he longed
for some intercourse with, some communication from, the Deity. And
whilst he found many things in the ancient legends which revolted his
moral sense, and which his reason rejected, yet the sentiment and the
lesson which pervades the whole of Grecian mythology, viz., that the
gods are in ceaseless intercourse with the human race, and if men will
do right the gods will protect and help them, was one which commended
itself to his heart.

[Footnote 196: Ibid., ch. v.]

2. These intermediate agents seem to have been demanded to _satisfy the
disposition and tendency which has revealed itself in all systems, of
interposing some scale of ascent between the material creation and the
infinite Creator_.

The mechanical theory of the universe has interposed its long series of
secondary causes--the qualities, properties, laws, forces of nature; the
vital theory which attaches a separate "soul" to the various parts of
nature as the cause and intelligent director of its movements. Of these
"souls" or gods, there were different orders and degrees--deified men or
heroes, aërial, terrestrial, and celestial divinities, ascending from
nature up to God. And this tendency to supply some scale of ascent
towards the Deity, or at least to people the vast territory which seems
to swell between the world and God, finds some countenance in "the
angels and archangels," "the thrones, and dominions, and principalities,
and powers" of the Christian scriptures.[197]

3. These inferior ministers also seemed to Plato to _increase the
stately grandeur and imperial majesty of the Divine government._ They
swell the retinue of the Deity in his grand "circuit through the highest
arch of heaven."[198] They wait to execute the Divine commands. They are
the agents of Divine providence, "the messengers of God" to men.

[Footnote 197: "The gods of the Platonic system answer, in office and
conception, to the angels of Christian Theology."--Butler, vol. i. p.
225.]

[Footnote 198: "Phædrus," § 56,7.]

4. And, finally, the host of inferior deities interposed between the
material sensible world and God seemed to Plato as _needful in order to
explain the apparent defects and disorders of sublunary affairs_. Plato
was jealous of the Divine honor. "All good must be ascribed to God, and
nothing but good. We must find evil, disorder, suffering, in some other
cause."[199] He therefore commits to the junior deities the task of
creating animals, and of forming "the mortal part of man," because the
mortal part is "possessed of certain dire and necessary passions."[200]

[Footnote 199: "Republic," bk. ii. p.18.]

[Footnote 200: "Timæus," xliv.]

Aristotle seems to have regarded the popular polytheism of Greece as a
perverted relic of a deeper and purer "Theology" which he conceives to
have been, in all probability, perfected in the distant past, and then
comparatively lost. He says--"The tradition has come down from very
ancient times, being left in a mythical garb to succeeding generations,
that these (the heavenly bodies) are gods, and that the Divinity
_encompasses the whole of nature_. There have been made, however, to
these certain fabulous additions for the purpose of winning the belief
of the multitude, and thus securing their obedience to the laws, and
their co-operation towards advancing the general welfare of the state.
These additions have been to the effect that these gods were of the same
form as men, and even that some of them were in appearance similar to
certain others amongst the rest of the animal creation. The wise course,
however, would be for the philosopher to disengage from these traditions
the false element, and to embrace that which is true; and the truth lies
in that portion of this ancient doctrine which regards the first and
deepest ground of all existence to be the _Divine_, and this he may
regard as a divine utterance. In all probability, every art, and
science, and philosophy has been over and over again discovered to the
farthest extent possible, and then again lost; and we may conceive these
opinions to have been preserved to us as a sort of fragment of these
lost philosophers. We see, then, to some extent the relation of the
popular belief to these ancient opinions."[201] This conception of a
deep Divine ground of all existence (for the immateriality and unity of
which he elsewhere earnestly contends)[202] is thus regarded by
Aristotle as underlying the popular polytheism of Greece.

[Footnote 201: "Metaph.," xi. 8.]

[Footnote 202: Bk. xi. ch. ii. § 4.]

The views of the educated and philosophic mind of Greece in regard to
the mythological deities may, in conclusion, be thus briefly stated--

I. _They are all created beings_--"GENERATED DEITIES," _who are
dependent on, and subject to, the will of one supreme God_.

II. _They are the_ AGENTS _employed by God in the creation of, at least
some parts of, the universe, and in the movement and direction of the
entire cosmos; and they are also the_ MINISTERS _and_ MESSENGERS _of
that universal providence which he exercises over the human race_.

These subordinate deities are, 1. the greater parts of the visible
mundane system animated by intelligent souls, and called "_sensible
gods_"--the sun, the moon, the stars, and even the earth itself, and
known by the names Helios, Selena, Kronos, Hermes, etc.

2. Some are _invisible powers_, having peculiar offices and functions
and presiding over special places provinces and departments of the
universe;--one ruling in the heavens (Zeus), another in the air (Juno),
another in the sea (Neptune), another in the subterranean regions
(Pluto); one god presiding over learning and wisdom (Minerva), another
over poetry, music, and religion (Apollo), another over justice and
political order (Themis), another over war (Mars), another over corn
(Ceres), and another the vine (Bacchus).

3. Others, again, are _ethereal_ and _aërial_ beings, who have the
guardianship of individual persons and things, and are called _demons,
genii_, and _lares_; superior indeed to men, but inferior to the gods
above named.

"Wherefore, since there were no other gods among the Pagans besides
those above enumerated, unless their images, statues, and symbols should
be accounted such (because they were also sometimes abusively called
'gods'), which could not be supposed by them to have been unmade or
without beginning, they being the workmanship of their own hands, we
conclude, universally, that all that multiplicity of Pagan gods which
make so great a show and noise was really either nothing but several
names and notions of one supreme Deity, according to his different
manifestations, gifts, and effects upon the world personated, or else
many inferior understanding beings, generated or created by one supreme:
so that one unmade, self-existent Deity, and no more, was acknowledged
by the more intelligent Pagans, and, consequently, the Pagan Polytheism
(or idolatry) consisted not in worshipping a multiplicity of unmade
minds, deities, and creators, self-existent from eternity, and
independent upon one Supreme, but in mingling and blending some way or
other, unduly, creature-worship with the worship of the Creator."[203]

[Footnote 203: Cudworth, "Intellectual System," vol. i. p. 311.]

That the heathen regard the one Supreme Being as the first and chief
object of worship is evident from the apologies which they offered for
worshipping, besides Him, many inferior divinities.

1. They claimed to worship them _only_ as inferior beings, and that
therefore they were not guilty of giving them that honor which belonged
to the Supreme. They claimed to worship the supreme God incomparably
above all. 2. That this honor which is bestowed upon the inferior
divinities does ultimately redound to the supreme God, and aggrandize
his state and majesty, they being all his ministers and attendants. 3.
That as demons are mediators between the celestial gods and men, so
those celestial gods are also mediators between men and the supreme God,
and, as it were, convenient steps by which we ought with reverence to
approach him. 4. That demons or angels being appointed to preside over
kingdoms, cities, and persons, and being many ways benefactors to us,
thanks ought to be returned to them by sacrifice. 5. Lastly, that it can
not be thought that the Supreme Being will envy those inferior beings
that worship or honor which is bestowed upon them; nor suspect that any
of these inferior deities will factiously go about to set up themselves
against the Supreme God.

The Pagans, furthermore, apologized for worshipping God in images,
statues, and symbols, on the ground that these were only schetically
worshipped by them, the honor passing from them to the prototype. And
since we live in bodies, and can scarcely, conceive of any thing without
having some image or phantasm, we may therefore be indulged in this
infirmity of human nature (at least in the vulgar) to worship God under
a corporeal image, as a means of preventing men from falling into
Atheism.

To the Christian conscience the above reasons assigned furnish no real
justification of Polytheism and Idolatry; but they are certainly a tacit
confession of their belief in the one Supreme God, and their conviction
that, notwithstanding their idolatry, He only ought to be worshipped.
The heathen polytheists are therefore justly condemned in Scripture, and
pronounced to be "_inexcusable_." They had the knowledge of the true
God--" they _knew God_" and yet "they glorified him not as God." "They
changed the glory of the incorruptible God into a likeness of
corruptible man." And, finally, they ended in "worshipping and serving
the creature _more_ than the Creator."[204]

[Footnote 204: Romans i. 21, 25.]

It can not, then, with justice be denied that the Athenians had some
knowledge of the true God, and some just and worthy conceptions of his
character. It is equally certain that a powerful and influential
religious sentiment pervaded the Athenian mind. Their extreme
"carefulness in religion" must be conceded by us, and, in some sense,
commended by us, as it was by Paul in his address on Mars' Hill. At the
same time it must also be admitted and deplored that the purer theology
of primitive times was corrupted by offensive legends, and encrusted by
polluting myths, though not utterly defaced.[205] The Homeric gods were
for the most part idealized, human personalities, with all the passions
and weaknesses of humanity. They had their favorites and their enemies;
sometimes they fought in one camp, sometimes in another. They were
susceptible of hatred, jealousy, sensual passion. It would be strange
indeed if their worshippers were not like unto them. The conduct of the
Homeric heroes was, however, better than their creed. And there is this
strange incongruity and inconsistency in the conduct of the Homeric
gods,--they punish mortals for crimes of which they themselves are
guilty, and reward virtues in men which they do not themselves always
practise. "They punish with especial severity social and political
crimes, such as perjury (Iliad, iii. 279), oppression of the poor (Od.
xvii. 475), and unjust judgment in courts of justice (Iliad, xvi. 386)."
Jupiter is the god of justice, and of the domestic hearth; he is the
protector of the exile, the avenger of the poor, and the vigilant
guardian of hospitality. "And with all the imperfections of society,
government, and religion, the poem presents a remarkable picture of
primitive simplicity, chastity, justice, and practical piety, under the
three-fold influence of moral feeling, mutual respect, and fear of the
divine displeasure; such, at least, are the motives to which Telemachus
makes his appeal when he endeavors to rouse the assembled people of
Ithaca to the performance of their duty (Od. ii. 64)."[206]

[Footnote 205: "There was always a double current of religious ideas in
Greece; one spiritualist, the other tainted with impure
legends."--Pressensé.]

[Footnote 206: Tyler, "Theology of Greek Poets," pp. 167, 168;
Pressensé, "Religion before Christ," p. 77.]

The influence of the religious dramas of Æschylus and Sophocles on the
Athenian mind must not be overlooked. No writer of pagan antiquity made
the voice of conscience speak with the same power and authority that
Æschylus did. "Crime," he says, "never dies without posterity." "Blood
that has been shed congeals on the ground, crying out for an avenger."
The old poet made himself the echo of what he called "the lyreless hymn
of the Furies," who, with him, represented severe Justice striking the
guilty when his hour comes, and giving warning beforehand by the terrors
which haunt him. His dramas are characterized by deep religious feeling.
Reverence for the gods, the recognition of an inflexible moral order,
resignation to the decisions of Heaven, an abiding presentiment of a
future state of reward and punishment, are strikingly predominant.

Whilst Æschylus reveals to us the sombre, terror-stricken side of
conscience, Sophocles shows us the divine and luminous side. No one has
ever spoken with nobler eloquence than he of moral obligation--of this
immortal, inflexible law, in which dwells a God that never grows old--

        "Oh be the lot forever mine
            Unsullied to maintain,
         In act and word, with awe divine,
            What potent laws ordain.

     "Laws spring from purer realms above:
      Their father is the Olympian Jove.
      Ne'er shall oblivion veil their front sublime,
      Th' indwelling god is great, nor fears the wastes of time."[207]

The religious inspiration that animates Sophocles breaks out with
incomparable beauty in the last words of Œdipus, when the old banished
king sees through the darkness of death a mysterious light dawn, which
illumines his blind eyes, and which brings to him the assurance of a
blessed immortality.[208]

[Footnote 207: "Œdipus Tyran.," pp. 863-872.]

[Footnote 208: Pressensé, "Religion before Christ," pp. 85-87.]

Such a theology could not have been utterly powerless. The influence of
truth, in every measure and degree, must be salutary, and especially of
truth in relation to God, to duty, and to immortality. The religion of
the Athenians must have had some wholesome and conserving influence of
the social and political life of Athens.[209] Those who resign the
government of this lower world almost exclusively to Satan, may see, in
the religion of the Greeks, a simple creation of Satanic powers. But he
who believes that the entire progress of humanity has been under the
control and direction of a benignant Providence, must suppose that, in
the purposes of God, even Ethnicism has fulfilled some end, or it would
not have been permitted to live. God has "_never left himself without a
witness_" in any nation under heaven. And some preparatory office has
been fulfilled by Heathenism which, at least, repealed the _want_, and
prepared the mind for, the advent of Christianity.

[Footnote 209: The practice, so common with some theological writers, of
drawing dark pictures of heathenism, in which not one luminous spot is
visible, in order to exalt the revelations given to the Jews, is
exceedingly unfortunate, and highly reprehensible. It is unfortunate,
because the skeptical scholar knows that there were some elements of
truth and excellence, and even of grandeur, in the religion and
civilization of the republics of Greece and Rome; and it is
reprehensible, because it is a one-sided and unjust procedure, in so far
as it withholds part of the truth. This species of argument is a
two-edged sword which cuts both ways. The prevalence of murder, and
slavery, and treachery, and polygamy, in Greece and Rome, is no more a
proof that "the religions of the pagan nations were destructive of
morality" (Watson, vol. i. p. 59), than the polygamy of the Hebrews, the
falsehoods and impositions of Mediaeval Christianity, the persecutions
and martyrdoms of Catholic Christianity, the oppressions and wrongs of
Christian England, and the slavery of Protestant America, are proofs
that the Christian religion is "destructive of morality." What a fearful
picture of the history of Christian nations might be drawn to-day, if
all the lines of light, and goodness, and charity were left out, and the
crimes, and wrongs, and cruelties of the Christian nations were alone
exhibited!

How much more convincing a proof of the truth of Christianity to find in
the religions of the ancient world a latent sympathy with, and an
unconscious preparation for, the religion of Christ. "The history of
religions of human origin is the most striking evidence of the agreement
of revealed religion with the soul of man--for each of these forms of
worship is the expression of the wants of conscience, its eternal thirst
for pardon and restoration--rather let us say, its thirst for
God."--Pressensé, p. 6.]

The religion of the Athenians was unable to deliver them from the guilt
of sin, redeem them from its power, and make them pure and holy. It gave
the Athenian no victory over himself, and, practically, brought him no
nearer to the living God. But it awakened and educated the conscience,
it developed more fully the sense of sin and guilt, and it made man
conscious of his inability to save himself from sin and guilt; and "the
day that humanity awakens to the want of something more than mere
embellishment and culture, that day it feels the need of being saved and
restored from the consequences of sin" by a higher power. Æsthetic taste
had found its fullest gratification in Athens; poetry, sculpture,
architecture, had been carried to the highest perfection; a noble
civilization had been reached; but "the need of something deeper and
truer was written on the very stones." The highest consummation of
Paganism was an altar to "the unknown God," the knowledge of whom it
needed, as the source of purity and peace.

The strength and the weakness of Grecian mythology consisted in the
contradictory character of its divinities. It was a strange blending of
the natural and the supernatural, the human and the divine. Zeus, the
eternal Father,--the immortal King, whose will is sovereign, and whose
power is invincible,--the All-seeing Jove, has some of the weaknesses
and passions of humanity. God and man are thus, in some mysterious way,
united. And here that deepest longing of the human heart is met--the
unconquerable desire to bring God nearer to the human apprehension, and
closer to the human heart. Hence the hold which Polytheism had upon the
Grecian mind. But in this human aspect was also found its weakness, for
when philosophic thought is brought into contact with, and permitted
critically to test mythology, it dethrones the false gods. The age of
spontaneous religious sentiment must necessarily be succeeded by the age
of reflective thought. Popular theological faiths must be placed in the
hot crucible of dialectic analysis, that the false and the frivolous may
be separated from the pure and the true. The reason of man demands to be
satisfied, as well as the heart. Faith in God must have a logical basis,
it must be grounded on demonstration and proof. Or, at any rate, the
question must be answered, _whether God is cognizable by human reason_?
If this can be achieved, then a deeper foundation is laid in the mind of
humanity, upon which Christianity can rear its higher and nobler truths.




CHAPTER V.

THE UNKNOWN GOD.


"As I passed by, and beheld your sacred objects, I found an altar with
this inscription, _To the Unknown God_."--ST. PAUL.

"That which can be _known_ of God is manifested in their hearts, God
himself having shown it to them" [the heathen nations].--ST. PAUL.

Having now reached our first landing-place, from whence we may survey
the fields that we have traversed, it may be well to set down in
definite propositions the results we have attained. We may then carry
them forward, as torches, to illuminate the path of future and still
profounder inquiries.

The principles we have assumed as the only adequate and legitimate
interpretation of the facts of religious history, and which an extended
study of the most fully-developed religious system of the ancient world
confirms, may be thus announced:

I. A religious nature and destination appertain to man, so that the
purposes of his existence and the perfection of his being can only be
secured in and through religion.

II. The idea of God as the unconditioned Cause, the infinite Mind, the
personal Lord and Lawgiver, and the consciousness of dependence upon and
obligation to God, are the fundamental principles of all religion.

III. Inasmuch as man is a religious being, the instincts and emotions of
his nature constraining him to worship, there must also be implanted in
his rational nature some original _à priori_ ideas or laws of thought
which furnish the necessary cognition of the object of worship; that is,
some native, spontaneous cognition of God.

A mere blind impulse would not be adequate to guide man to the true end
and perfection of his being without rational ideas; a tendency or
appetency, without a revealed object, would be the mockery and misery of
his nature--an "ignis fatuus" perpetually alluring and forever deceiving
man.

That man has a native, spontaneous apperception of a God, in the true
import of that sacred name, has been denied by men of totally opposite
schools and tendencies of thought--by the Idealist and the Materialist;
by the Theologian and the Atheist. Though differing essentially in their
general principles and method, they are agreed in asserting that God is
absolutely "_the unknown_;" and that, so far as reason and logic are
concerned, man can not attain to any knowledge of the first principles
and causes of the universe, and, consequently, can not determine whether
the first principle or principles be intelligent or unintelligent,
personal or impersonal, finite or infinite, one or many righteous or
non-righteous, evil or good.

The various opponents of the doctrine that God can be cognized by human
reason may be classified as follows: I. _Those who assert that all human
knowledge is necessarily confined to the observation and classification
of phenomena in their orders of co-existence, succession, and
resemblance_. Man has no faculty for cognizing substances, causes,
forces, reasons, first principles--no power by which he can _know_ God.
This class may be again subdivided into--

1. Those who limit all knowledge to the observation and classification
of _mental_ phenomena (_e. g_., Idealists like J. S. Mill).

2. Those who limit all knowledge to the observation and classification
of _material_ phenomena (_e. g_., Materialists like Comte).

II. _The second class comprises all who admit that philosophic knowledge
is the knowledge of effects as dependent on causes, and of qualities as
inherent in substances; but at the same time assert that "all knowledge
is of the phenomenal_." Philosophy can never attain to a positive
knowledge of the First Cause. Of existence, absolutely and in itself, we
know nothing. The infinite can not by us be comprehended, conceived, or
thought. _Faith_ is the organ by which we apprehend what is beyond
knowledge. We believe in the existence of God, but we can not _know_
God. This class, also, may be again subdivided into--

1. Those who affirm that our idea of the Infinite First Cause is
grounded on an _intuitional_ or subjective faith, necessitated by an
"impotence of thought"--that is, by a mental inability to conceive an
absolute limitation or an infinite illimitation, an absolute
commencement or an infinite non-commencement. Both contradictory
opposites are equally incomprehensible and inconceivable to us; and yet,
though unable to view either as possible, we are forced by a higher
law--the "Law of Excluded Middle"--to admit that one, and only one, is
necessary (_e. g_., Hamilton and Mansel).

2. Those who assert that our idea of God rests solely on an _historical_
or objective faith in testimony--the testimony of Scripture, which
assures us that, in the course of history, God has manifested his
existence in an objective manner to the senses, and given verbal
communications of his character and will to men; human reason being
utterly incapacitated by the fall, and the consequent depravity of man,
to attain any knowledge of the unity, spirituality, and righteousness of
God (_e. g_., Watson, and Dogmatic Theologians generally).

It will thus be manifest that the great question, the central and vital
question which demands a thorough and searching consideration, is the
following, to wit: _Is God cognizable by human reason_? Can man attain
to a positive cognition of God--can he _know_ God; or is all our
supposed knowledge "a learned ignorance,"[210] an unreasoning faith? We
venture to answer this question in the affirmative. Human reason is now
adequate to the cognition of God; it is able, with the fullest
confidence, to affirm the being of a God, and, in some degree, to
determine his character. The parties and schools above referred to
answer this question in the negative form. Whether Theologians or
Atheists, they are singularly agreed in denying to human reason all
possibility of _knowing_ God.

[Footnote 210: Hamilton's "Philosophy," p. 512.]

Before entering upon the discussion of the negative positions enumerated
in the above classification, it may be important we should state our own
position explicitly, and exhibit what we regard as the true doctrine of
the genesis of the idea of God in the human intelligence. The real
question at issue will then stand out in clear relief, and precision
will be given to the entire discussion.

(i.) _We hold that the idea of God is a common phenomenon of the
universal human intelligence_. It is found in all minds where reason has
had its normal and healthy development; and no race of men has ever been
found utterly destitute of the idea of God. The proof of this position
has already been furnished in chap, ii.,[211] and needs not be re-stated
here. We have simply to remark that the appeal which is made by Locke
and others of the sensational school to the experiences of infants,
idiots, the deaf and dumb, or, indeed, any cases wherein the proper
conditions for the normal development of reason are wanting, are utterly
irrelevant to the question. The acorn contains within itself the
rudimental germ of the future oak, but its mature and perfect
development depends on the exterior conditions of moisture, light, and
heat. By these exterior conditions it may be rendered luxuriant in its
growth, or it may be stunted in its growth. It may barely exist under
one class of conditions; it may be distorted and perverted, or it may
perish utterly under another. And so in the idiotic mind the ideas of
reason may be wanting, or they may be imprisoned by impervious walls of
cerebral malformation. In the infant mind the development of reason is
yet in an incipient stage. The idea of God is immanent to the infant
thought, but the infant thought is not yet matured. The deaf and dumb
are certainly not in that full and normal correlation to the world of
sense which is a necessary condition of the development of reason.
Language, the great vehiculum and instrument of thought, is wanting, and
reason can not develop itself without words. "Words without thought are
dead sounds, _thoughts without words are nothing_. The word is the
thought incarnate."[212] Under proper and normal conditions, the idea of
God is the natural and necessary form in which human thought must be
developed. And, with these explanations, we repeat our affirmation that
the idea of God is a common phenomenon of the universal human
intelligence.

[Footnote 211: Pp. 89,90.]

[Footnote 212: Müller, " Science of Language," p. 384.]

(ii.) _We do not hold that the idea of God, in its completeness, is a
simple, direct, and immediate intuition of the reason alone, independent
of all experience, and all knowledge of the external world_. The idea of
God is a complex idea, and not a simple idea. The affirmation, "God
exists," is a _synthetic_ and _primitive_ judgment spontaneously
developed in the mind, and developed, too, independent of all reflective
reasoning. It is a necessary deduction from the facts of the outer world
of nature and the primary intuitions of the inner world of reason--a
logical deduction from the self-evident truths given in sense,
consciousness, and reason. "We do not _perceive_ God, but we _conceive_
Him upon the faith of this admirable world exposed to view, and upon the
other world, more admirable still, which we bear in ourselves."[213]
Therefore we do not say that man is born with an "innate idea" of God,
nor with the definite proposition, "there is a God," written upon his
soul; but we do say that the mind is pregnant with certain natural
principles, and governed, in its development, by certain necessary laws
of thought, which determine it, by a _spontaneous logic_, to affirm the
being of a God; and, furthermore, that this judgment may be called
_innate_ in the sense, that it is the primitive, universal, and
necessary development of the human understanding which "is innate to
itself and equal to itself in all men."[214]

[Footnote 213: Cousin, "True, Beautiful and Good," p.102.]

[Footnote 214: Leibnitz.]

As the vital and rudimentary germ of the oak is contained in the acorn;
as it is quickened and excited to activity by the external conditions of
moisture, light, and heat, and is fully de developed under the fixed and
determinative laws of vegetable life--so the germs of the idea of God
are present in the human mind as the intuitions of pure reason
(_Rational Psychology_); these intuitions are excited to energy by our
experiential and historical knowledge of the facts and laws of the
universe (_Phenomenology_); and these facts and intuitions are developed
into form by the necessary laws of the intellect (_Nomology_, or
_Primordial Logic_).

The _logical demonstration_ of the being of God commences with the
analysis of thought. It asks, What are the ideas which exist in the
human intelligence? What are their actual characteristics, and what
their primitive characteristics? What is their origin, and what their
validity? Having, by this process, found that some of our ideas are
subjective, and some objective that some are derived from experience,
and that some can not be derived from experience, but are inherent in
the very constitution of the mind itself, as _à priori_ ideas of reason;
that these are characterized as self-evident, universal, and necessary
and that, as laws of thought, they govern the mind in all its
conceptions of the universe; it has formulated these necessary
judgments, and presented them as distinct and articulate propositions.
These _à priori_, necessary judgments constitute the major premise of
the Theistic syllogism, and, in view of the facts of the universe,
necessitate the affirmation of the existence of a God as the only valid
explanation of the facts.

The _natural_ or _chronological order_ in which the idea of God is
developed in the human intelligence, is the reverse process of the
scientific or logical order, in which the demonstration of the being of
God is presented by philosophy; the latter is _reflective_ and
_analytic_, the former is _spontaneous_ and _synthetic._ The natural
order commences with the knowledge of the facts of the universe,
material and mental, as revealed by sensation and experience. In
presence of these facts of the universe, the _à priori_ ideas of power,
cause, reason, and end are evoked into consciousness with greater or
less distinctness; and the judgment, by a natural and spontaneous logic,
free from all reflection, and consequently from all possibility of
error, affirms a necessary relation between the facts of experience and
the _à priori_ ideas of the reason. The result of this involuntary and
almost unconscious process of thought is that natural cognition of a God
found, with greater or less clearness and definiteness, in all rational
minds. The _à posteriori_, or empirical knowledge of the phenomena of
the universe, in their relations to time and space, constitute the minor
premise of the Theistic syllogism.

The Theistic argument is, therefore, necessarily composed of both
experiential and _à priori_ elements. An _à posteriori_ element exists
as a condition of the logical demonstration The rational _à priori_
element is, however, the logical basis, the only valid foundation of the
Theistic demonstration. The facts of the universe alone would never lead
man to the recognition of a God, if the reason, in presence of these
facts, did not enounce certain necessary and universal principles which
are the logical antecedents, and adequate explanation of the facts. Of
what use would it be to point to the events and changes of the material
universe as proofs of the existence of a _First Cause,_ unless we take
account of the universal and necessary truth that "every change must
have an efficient cause;" that all phenomena are an indication of
_power_; and that "there is an ultimate and sufficient reason why all
things exist, and are as they are, and not otherwise." There would be no
logical force in enumerating the facts of order and special adaptation
which literally crowd the universe, as proofs of the existence of an
_Intelligent Creator_, if the mind did not affirm the necessary
principle that "facts of order, having a commencement in time, suppose
mind as their source and exponent." There is no logical conclusiveness
in the assertion of Paley, "that _experience_ teaches us that a designer
must be a person," because, as Hume justly remarks, our "experience" is
narrowed down to a mere point, "and can not be a rule for a universe;"
but there is an infinitude of force in that dictum of reason, that
"intelligence, self-consciousness, and self-determination necessarily
constitute personality." A multiplicity of different effects, of which
experience does not always reveal the connection, would not conduct to a
single cause and to _one_ God, but rather to a plurality of causes and a
plurality of gods, did not reason teach us that "all plurality implies
an ultimate indivisible unity," and therefore there must be a _First
Cause_ of all causes, a _First Principle_ of all principles, _the
Substance_ of all substances, _the Being_ of all beings--_a God_ "of
whom, in whom, and to whom are all things" (πάντα ἐκ τοῦ θεοῦ, ἐν τῷ
θεῷ, εἰς τὸν θεόν).

The conclusion, therefore, is, that, as the idea of God is a complex
idea, so there are necessarily a number of simple _à priori_ principles,
and a variety of experiential facts conspiring to its development in the
human intelligence.

(iii.) _The universe presents to the human mind an aggregation and
history of phenomena which demands the idea of a God--a self-existent,
intelligent, personal, righteous First Cause--as its adequate
explanation._

The attempt of Positivism to confine all human knowledge to the
observation and classification of phenomena, and arrest and foreclose
all inquiry as to causes, efficient, final, and ultimate, is simply
futile and absurd. It were just as easy to arrest the course of the sun
in mid-heaven as to prevent the human mind from seeking to pass beyond
phenomena, and ascertain the ground, and reason, and cause of all
phenomena. The history of speculative thought clearly attests that, in
all ages, the inquiry after the Ultimate Cause and Reason of all
existence--the ἀρχή, or First Principle of all things--has been the
inevitable and necessary tendency of the human mind; to resist which,
skepticism and positivism have been utterly impotent. The first
philosophers, of the Ionian school, had just as strong a faith in the
existence of a Supreme Reality--an Ultimate Cause--as Leibnitz and
Cousin. But when, by reflective thought, they attempted to render an
account to themselves of this instinctive faith, they imagined that its
object must be in some way appreciable to sense, and they sought it in
some physical element, or under some visible and tangible shrine. Still,
however imperfect and inadequate the method, and however unsatisfactory
the results, humanity has never lost its positive and ineradicable
confidence that the problem of existence could be solved. The resistless
tide of spontaneous and necessary thought has always borne the race
onward towards the recognition of a great First Cause; and though
philosophy may have erred, again and again, in tracing the logical order
of this inevitable thought, and exhibiting the necessary nexus between
the premises and conclusion, yet the human mind has never wavered in the
confidence which it has reposed in the natural logic of thought, and man
has never ceased to believe in a God.

We readily grant that all our empirical knowledge is confined to
phenomena in their orders of co-existence, succession, and resemblance.
"To our objective perception and comparison nothing is given but
qualities and changes; to our inductive generalization nothing but the
shifting and grouping of these in time and space." Were it, however, our
immediate concern to discuss the question, we could easily show that
sensationalism has never succeeded in tracing the genetic origin of our
ideas of space and time to observation and experience; and, without the
_à priori_ idea of _space_, as the place of bodies, and of _time_, as
the condition of succession, we can not conceive of phenomena at all.
If, therefore, we know any thing beyond phenomena and their mutual
relations; if we have any cognition of realities underlying phenomena,
and of the relations of phenomena to their objective ground, it must be
given by some faculty distinct from sense-perception, and in some
process distinct from inductive generalization. The knowledge of real
Being and real Power, of an ultimate Reason and a personal Will, is
derived from the apperception of pure reason, which affirms the
necessary existence of a Supreme Reality--an Uncreated Being beyond all
phenomena, which is the ground and reason of the existence--the
contemporaneousness and succession--the likeness and unlikeness, of all
phenomena.

The immediate presentation of phenomena to sensation is the _occasion_
of the development in consciousness of these _à priori_ ideas of reason:
the possession of these ideas or the immanence of these ideas, in the
human intellect, constitutes the original _power_ to know external
phenomena. The ideas of space, time, power, law, reason, and end, are
the logical antecedents of the ideas of body, succession, event,
consecution, order, and adaptation. The latter can not be conceived as
distinct notions without the former. The former will not be revealed in
thought without the presentation to sense, of resistance, movement,
change, uniformity, etc. All actual knowledge must, therefore, be
impure; that is, it must involve both _à priori_ and _à posteriori_
elements; and between these elements there must be a necessary relation.

This necessary relation between the _à priori_ and _à posteriori_
elements of knowledge is not a mere subjective law of thought. It is
both a law of thought and a law of things. Between the _à posteriori_
facts of the universe and the _à priori_ ideas of the reason there is an
absolute nexus, a universal and necessary correlation; so that the
cognition of the latter is possible only on the cognition of the former;
and the objective existence of the realities, represented by the ideas
of reason, is the condition, _sine qua non_, of the existence of the
phenomena presented to sense. If, in one indivisible act of
consciousness, we immediately perceive extended matter exterior to our
percipient mind, then Extension exists objectively; and if Extension
exists objectively, then Space, its _conditio sine qua non_, also exists
objectively. And if a definite body reveals to us the _Space_ in which
it is contained, if a succession of pulsations or movements exhibit the
uniform _Time_ beneath, so do the changeful phenomena of the universe
demand a living _Power_ behind, and the existing order and regular
evolution of the universe presuppose _Thought_--prevision, and
predetermination, by an intelligent mind.

If, then, the universe is a created effect, it must furnish some
indications of the character of its cause. If, as Plato taught, the
world is a "created image" of the eternal archetypes which dwell in the
uncreated Mind, and if the subjective ideas which dwell in the human
reason, as the offspring of God, are "copies" of the ideas of the
Infinite Reason--if the universe be "the autobiography of the Infinite
Spirit which has also repeated itself in miniature within our finite
spirit," then may we decipher its symbols, and read its lessons straight
off. Then every approach towards a scientific comprehension and
generalization of the facts of the universe must carry us upward towards
the higher realities of reason. The more we can understand of Nature--of
her comprehensive laws, of her archetypal forms, of her far-reaching
plan spread through the almost infinite ages, and stretching through
illimitable space--the more do we comprehend the divine Thought. The
inductive generalization of science gradually _ascends_ towards the
universal; the pure, essential, _à priori_ reason, with its universal
and necessary ideas, _descends_ from above to meet it. The general
conceptions of science are thus a kind of _ideœ umbratiles_--shadowy
assimilations to those immutable ideas which dwell in essential reason,
as possessed by the Supreme Intelligence, and which are participated in
by rational man as the offspring and image of God.

Without making any pretension to profound scientific accuracy, we offer
the following tentative classification of the facts of the universe,
material and mental, which may be regarded as hints and adumbrations of
the ultimate ground, and reason, and cause, of the universe. We shall
venture to classify these facts as indicative of some fundamental
relation; (i.) to Permanent Being or Reality; (ii.) to Reason and
Thought; (iii.) to Moral Ideas and Ends.


(i.) _Facts of the universe which indicate some fundamental relation to
Permanent Being or Reality_.

1. _Qualitative_ Phenomena (properties, attributes, qualities)--the
predicates of a _subject_; which phenomena, being characterized by
likeness and unlikeness, are capable of comparison and classification,
and thus of revealing something as to the nature of the _subject_.

2. _Dynamical_ Phenomena (protension, movement, succession)--events
transpiring in _time_, having beginning, succession, and end, which
present themselves to us as the expression of _power_, and throw back
their distinctive characteristics on their _dynamic_ source.

3. _Quantitative_ Phenomena (totality, multiplicity, relative unity)--a
multiplicity of objects having relative and composite unity, which
suggests some relation to an absolute and indivisible _unity_.

4. _Statical_ Phenomena (extension, magnitude, divisibility)--bodies
co-existing in _space_ which are limited, conditioned, relative,
dependent, and indicate some relation to that which is self-existent,
unconditioned, and absolute.

(ii.) _Facts of the universe which indicate some fundamental relation to
Reason or Thought_.

1. _Numerical and Geometrical Proportion_.--Definite proportion of
elements (Chemistry), symmetrical arrangement of parts
(Crystallography), numerical and geometrical relation of the forms and
movements of the heavenly bodies (Spherical Astronomy), all of which are
capable of exact mathematical expression.

2. _Archetypal Forms_.--The uniform succession of new existences, and
the progressive evolution of new orders and species, conformable to
fixed and definite ideal archetypes, the indication of a comprehensive
_plan_(Morphological Botany, Comparative Anatomy).

3. _Teleology of Organs_.--The adaptation of organs to the fulfillment
of special functions, indicating _design_(Comparative Physiology).

4. _Combination of Homotypes and Analogues_.--Diversified homologous
forms made to fulfill analogous functions, or special purposes fulfilled
whilst maintaining a general plan, indicating _choice_ and
_alternativity_.


(iii.) _Facts of the universe which indicate some fundamental relation
to Moral Ideas and Ends_.

1. _Ethical Distinctions_.--The universal tendency to discriminate
between voluntary acts as right or wrong, indicating some relation to an
_immutable moral standard of right_.

2. _Sense of Obligation_.--The universal consciousness of dependence and
obligation, indicating some relation to Supreme _Power_, an Absolute
_Authority_.

3. _Feeling of Responsibility_.--The universal consciousness of
liability to be required to give account for, and endure the
consequences of our action, indicating some relation to a Supreme
_Judge_.

4. _Retributive Issues_.--The pleasure and pain resulting from moral
action in this life, and the universal anticipation of pleasure or pain
in the future, as the consequence of present conduct, indicate an
_absolute Justice_ ruling the world and man.

Now, if the universe be a _created effect_, it must, in some degree at
least, reveal the character of its Author and cause. We are entitled to
regard it as a created symbol and image of the Deity; it must bear the
impress of his _power_; it must reveal his infinite _presence_; it must
express his _thoughts_; it must embody and realize his _ideals_, so far,
at least, as material symbols will permit. Just as we see the power and
thought of man revealed in his works, his energy and skill, his ideal
and his taste expressed in his mechanical, artistic, and literary
creations, so we may see the mind and character of God displayed in his
works. The skill and contrivance of Watts, and Fulton, and Stephenson
were exhibited in their mechanical productions. The pure, the intense,
the visionary impersonation of the soul which the artist had conjured in
his own imagination was wrought out in Psyché. The colossal grandeur of
Michael Angelo's ideals, the ethereal and saintly elegance of Raphael's
were realized upon the canvas. So he who is familiar with the ideal of
the sculptor or the painter can identify his creations even when the
author's name is not affixed. And so the "eternal Power" of God is
"clearly seen" in the mighty orbs which float in the illimitable space.
The vastness of the universe shadows forth the infinity of God. The
indivisible unity of space and the ideal unity of the universe reflect
the unity of God. The material forms around us are symbols of divine
ideas, and the successive history of the universe is an expression of
the divine thought; whilst the ethical ideas and sentiments inherent in
the human mind are a reflection of the moral character of God.

The reader can not have failed to observe the form in which the Theistic
argument is stated; "_if_ the finite universe is a created effect, it
must reveal something as to the nature of its cause: _if_ the existing
order and arrangement of the universe had a commencement in time, it
must have an ultimate and adequate cause." The question, therefore,
presents itself in a definite form: "_Is the universe finite or
infinite; had the order of the universe a beginning, or is it eternal_?"

It will be seen at a glance that this is the central and vital question
in the Theistic argument. If the order and arrangement of the universe
is _eternal_, then that order is an inherent law of nature, and, as
eternal, does not imply a cause _ab extra:_ if it is not eternal, then
the ultimate cause of that order must be a power above and beyond
nature. In the former case the minor premise of the Theistic syllogism
is utterly invalidated; in the latter case it is abundantly sustained.

Some Theistic writers--as Descartes, Pascal, Leibnitz, and Saisset--have
made the fatal admission that the universe is, in some sense, _infinite_
and _eternal_. In making this admission they have unwittingly
surrendered the citadel of strength, and deprived the argument by which
they would prove the being of a God of all its logical force. That
argument is thus presented by Saisset: "The finite supposes the
infinite. Extension supposes first space, then immensity: duration
supposes first time, then eternity. A sudden and irresistible judgment
refers this to the necessary, infinite, perfect being."[215] But if "the
world is infinite and eternal,"[216] may not nature, or the totality of
all existence (τὺ πᾶν), be the necessary, infinite, and perfect Being?
An infinite and eternal universe has the reason of its existence in
itself, and the existence of such a universe can never prove to us the
existence of an infinite and eternal God.

[Footnote 215: "Modern Pantheism," vol. ii. p. 205.]

[Footnote 216: Ibid, p. 123.]

A closer examination of the statements and reasonings of Descartes,
Pascal, and Leibnitz, as furnished by Saisset, will show that these
distinguished mathematicans were misled by the false notion of
"_mathematical_ infinitude." Their infinite universe, after all, is not
an "absolute," but a "relative" infinite; that is, the indefinite. "The
universe must extend _indefinitely_ in time and space, in the infinite
greatness, and in the infinite littleness of its parts--in the infinite
variety of its species, of its forms, and of its degrees of existence.
The finite can not express the infinite but by being _multiplied_
infinitely. The finite, so far as it is finite, is not in any reasonable
relation, or in any intelligible proportion to the infinite. But the
finite, as _multiplied_ infinitely,[217] ages upon ages, spaces upon
spaces, stars beyond stars, worlds beyond worlds, is a true expression
of the Infinite Being. Does it follow, because the universe has no
limits,--that it must therefore be eternal, immense, infinite as God
himself? No; that is but a vain scruple, which springs from the
imagination, and not from the reason. The imagination is always
confounding what reason should ever distinguish, eternity and time,
immensity and space, _relative_ infinity and _absolute_ infinity. The
Creator alone is eternal, immense, absolutely infinite."[218]

[Footnote 217: "The infinite is distinct from the finite, and
consequently from the multiplication of the finite by itself; that is,
from the _indefinite_. That which is not infinite, added as many times
as you please to itself, will not become infinite."--Cousin, "Hist, of
Philos.," vol. ii. p. 231.]

[Footnote 218: Saisset, "Modern Pantheism," vol. ii. pp. 127, 128.]

The introduction of the idea of "the mathematical infinite" into
metaphysical speculation, especially by Kant and Hamilton, with the
design, it would seem, of transforming the idea of infinity into a
sensuous conception, has generated innumerable paralogisms which
disfigure the pages of their philosophical writings. This procedure is
grounded in the common fallacy of supposing that _infinity_ and
_quantity_ are compatible attributes, and susceptible of mathematical
synthesis. This insidious and plausible error is ably refuted by a
writer in the "North American Review."[219] We can not do better than
transfer his argument to our pages in an abridged form.

[Footnote 219: "The Conditioned and the Unconditioned," No. CCV. art.
iii. (1864).]

Mathematics is conversant with quantities and quantitative relations.
The conception of quantity, therefore, if rigorously analyzed, will
indicate _à priori_ the natural and impassable boundaries of the
science; while a subsequent examination of the quantities called
infinite in the mathematical sense, and of the algebraic symbol of
infinity, will be seen to verify the results of this _à priori_
analysis.

Quantity is that attribute of things in virtue of which they are
susceptible of exact mensuration. The question _how much_, or _how many_
(_quantus_), implies the answer, _so much_, or _so many_ (_tantus_); but
the answer is possible only through reference to some standard of
magnitude or multitude arbitrarily assumed. Every object, therefore, of
which quantity, in the mathematical sense, is predicable, must be by its
essential nature _mensurable._ Now mensurability implies the existence
of actual, definite limits, since without them there could be no fixed
relation between the given object and the standard of measurement, and,
consequently, no possibility of exact mensuration. In fact, since
quantification is the object of all mathematical operations, mathematics
may be not inaptly defined as _the science of the determinations of
limits_. It is evident, therefore, that the terms _quantity_ and
_finitude_ express the same attribute, namely, _limitation_--the former
relatively, the latter absolutely; for quantity is limitation considered
with relation to some standard of measurement, and finitude is
limitation considered simply in itself. The sphere of quantity,
therefore, is absolutely identical with the sphere of the finite; and
the phrase _infinite quantity_, if strictly construed, is a
contradiction in terms.

The result thus attained by considering abstract quantity is
corroborated by considering concrete and discrete quantities. Such
expressions as _infinite sphere, radius, parallelogram, line,_ and so
forth, are self-contradictory. A sphere is limited by its own periphery,
and a radius by the centre and circumference of its circle. A
parallelogram of infinite altitude is impossible, because the limit of
its altitude is assigned in the side which must be parallel to its base
in order to constitute it a parallelogram. In brief, all figuration is
limitation. The contradiction in the term _infinite line_ is not quite
so obvious, but can readily be made apparent. Objectively, a line is
only the termination of a surface, and a surface the termination of a
solid; hence a line can not exist apart from an extended quantity, nor
an infinite line apart from an infinite quantity. But as this term has
just been shown to be self-contradictory, an infinite line can not exist
objectively at all. Again, every line is extension in one dimension;
hence a mathematical quantity, hence mensurable, hence finite; you must
therefore, deny that a line is a quantity, or else affirm that it is
finite.

The same conclusion is forced upon us, if from geometry we turn to
arithmetic. The phrases _infinite number, infinite series, infinite
process_, and so forth, are all contradictory when literally construed.
Number is a relation among separate unities or integers, which,
considered objectively as independent of our cognitive powers, must
constitute an exact sum; and this exactitude, or synthetic totality, is
limitation. If considered subjectively in the mode of its cognition, a
number is infinite only in the sense that it is beyond the power of our
imagination or conception, which is an abuse of the term. In either case
the totality is fixed; that is, finite. So, too, of _series_ and
_process_. Since every series involves a succession of terms or numbers,
and every process a succession of steps or stages, the notion of series
and process plainly involves that of _number_, and must be rigorously
dissociated from the idea of infinity. At any one step, at any one term,
the number attained is determinate, hence finite. The fact that, by the
law of the series or of the process, _we_ may continue the operation _as
long as we please_, does not justify the application of the term
infinite to the operation itself; if any thing is infinite, it is the
will which continues the operation, which is absurd if said of human
wills.

Consequently, the attribute of infinity is not predicable either of
'diminution without limit,' 'augmentation without limit,' or 'endless
approximation to a fixed limit,' for these mathematical processes
continue only as we continue them, consist of steps successively
accomplished, and are limited by the very fact of this serial
incompletion.

"We can not forbear pointing out an important application of these
results to the Critical Philosophy. Kant bases each of his famous four
antinomies on the demand of pure reason for unconditioned totality in a
regressive series of conditions. This, he says, must be realized either
in an absolute first of the series, conditioning all the other members,
but itself unconditioned, or else in the absolute infinity of the series
without a first; but reason is utterly unable, on account of mutual
contradiction, to decide in which of the two alternatives the
unconditioned is found. By the principles we have laid down, however,
the problem is solved. The absolute infinity of a series is a
contradiction _in adjecto_. As every number, although immeasurably and
inconceivably great, is impossible unless _unity_ is given as its basis,
so every series, being itself a number, is impossible unless a _first
term_ is given as a commencement. Through a first term alone is the
unconditioned possible; that is, if it does not exist in a first term,
it can not exist at all; of the two alternatives, therefore, one
altogether disappears, and reason is freed from the dilemma of a
compulsory yet impossible decision. Even if it should be allowed that
the series has no first term, but has originated _ab œterno_, it must
always at each instant have a _last term_; the series, as a whole, can
not be infinite, and hence can not, as Kant claims it can, realize in
its wholeness unconditioned totality. Since countless terms forever
remain unreached, the series is forever limited by them. Kant himself
admits that it _can never be completed_, and is only potentially
infinite; actually, therefore, by his own admission, it is finite. But a
last term implies a first, as absolutely as one end of a string implies
the other; the only possibility of an unconditioned lies in Kant's first
alternative, and if, as he maintains Reason must demand it, she can not
hesitate in her decisions. That _number is a limitation_ is no new
truth, and that every series involves number is self-evident; and it is
surprising that so radical a criticism on Kant's system should never
have suggested itself to his opponents. Even the so-called _moments_ of
time can not be regarded as constituting a real series, for a series can
not be real except through its divisibility into members whereas time is
indivisible, and its partition into moments is a conventional fiction.
Exterior limitability and interior divisibility result equally from the
possibility of discontinuity. Exterior illimitability and interior
indivisibility are simple phases of the same attribute of _necessary
continuity_ contemplated under different aspects. From this principle
flows another upon which it is impossible to lay too much stress,
namely; _illimitability and indivisibility, infinity and unity,
reciprocally necessitate each other_. Hence the Quantitative Infinites
must be also Units, and the division of space and time, implying
absolute contradiction, is not even cogitable as an hypothesis.[220]

"The word _infinite_, therefore, in mathematical usage, as applied to
_process_ and to _quantity_, has a two-fold signification. An infinite
process is one which we can continue _as long as we please_, but which
exists solely in our continuance of it.[221] An infinite quantity is one
which exceeds our powers of mensuration or of conception, but which,
nevertheless, has bounds and limits in itself.[222] Hence the
possibility of relation among infinite quantities, and of different
orders of infinities. If the words _infinite, infinity, infinitesimal_,
should be banished from mathematical treatises and replaced by the words
_indefinite, indefinity,_ and _indefinitesimal_, mathematics would
suffer no loss, while, by removing a perpetual source of confusion,
metaphysics would get great gain."

[Footnote 220: By the application of these principles the writer in the
"North American Review" completely dissolves the antinomies by which
Hamilton seeks to sustain his "Philosophy of the Conditioned." See
"North American Review," 1864, pp. 432-437.]

[Footnote 221: De Morgan, "Diff. and Integ. Calc." p. 9.]

[Footnote 222: Id., ib., p. 25.]

The above must be regarded as a complete refutation of the position
taken by _Hume_, to wit, that the idea of nature eternally existing in a
state of order, without a cause other than the eternally inherent laws
of nature, is no more self-contradictory than the idea of an
eternally-existing and infinite mind, who originated this order--a God
existing without a cause. The eternal and infinite Mind is indivisible
and illimitable; nature, in its totality, as well as in its individual
parts, has interior divisibility, and exterior limitability. The
infinity of God is not a _quantitative_, but a _qualitative_ infinity.
The miscalled eternity and infinity of nature is an _indefinite_
extension and protension in time and space, and, as _quantitative_, must
necessarily be limited and measurable, therefore _finite_.

The universe of sense-perception and sensuous imagination is a
phenomenal universe, a genesis, a perpetual becoming, an entrance into
existence, and an exit thence; the Theist is, therefore, perfectly
justified in regarding it as disqualified for _self-existence_, and in
passing behind it for the Supreme Entity that needs no cause. Phenomena
demand causation, entities dispense with it. No one asks for a cause of
the _space_ which contains the universe, or of the Eternity on the bosom
of which it floats. Everywhere the line is necessarily drawn upon the
same principle; that entities _may_ have self-existence, phenomena
_must_ have a cause.[223]

[Footnote 223: "Science, Nescience, and Faith," in Martineau's "Essays,"
p. 206.]

IV. _Psychological analysis clearly attests that in the phenomena of
consciousness there are found elements or principles which, in their
regular and normal development, transcend the limits of consciousness,
and attain to the knowledge of Absolute Being, Absolute Reason, Absolute
Good_, i.e., GOD.

The analysis of thought clearly reveals that the mind of man is in
possession of ideas, notions, beliefs, principles (as _e.g._, the idea
of space, duration, cause, substance, unity, infinity), which are not
derived from sensation and experience, and which can not be drawn out of
sensation and experience by any process of generalization. These ideas
have this incontestable peculiarity, as distinguished from all the
phenomena of sensation, that, whilst the latter are particular,
contingent, and relative, the former are _universal_, _necessary_, and
_absolute_. As an example, and a proof of the reality and validity of
this distinction, take the ideas of _body_ and of _space_, the former
unquestionably derived from experience, the latter supplied by reason
alone. "I ask you, can not you conceive this book to be destroyed?
Without doubt you can. And can not you conceive the whole world to be
destroyed, and no matter whatever in existence? You can. For you,
constituted as you are, the supposition of the non-existence of bodies
implies no contradiction. And what do we call the idea of a thing which
we can conceive of as non-existing? We call it a _contingent_ and
_relative_ idea. But if you can conceive this book to be destroyed, all
bodies destroyed, can you suppose space to be destroyed? You can not. It
is in the power of man's thought to conceive the non-existence of
bodies; it is not in the power of man's thought to conceive the
non-existence of space. The idea of space is thus a _necessary_ and
_absolute_ idea."[224]

[Footnote 224: Cousin's "Hist. of Philos.," vol. ii. p. 214.]

Take, again, the ideas of _event_ and _cause_. The idea of an event is a
_contingent_ idea; it is the idea of something which might or might not
have happened. There is no impossibility or contradiction in either
supposition. The idea of cause is a _necessary_ idea. An event being
given, the idea of cause is necessarily implied. An uncaused event is an
impossible conception. The idea of cause is also a _universal_ idea
extending to all events, actual or conceivable, and affirmed by all
minds. It is a rational fact, attested by universal consciousness, that
we can not think of an event transpiring without a cause; of a thing
being the author of its own existence; of something generated by and out
of nothing. _Ex nihilo nihil_ is a universal law of thought and of
things. This universal "law of causality" is clearly distinguishable
from a _general_ truth reached by induction. For example, it is a very
general truth that, during twenty-four hours, day is succeeded by night.
But this is not a necessary truth, neither is it a universal truth. It
does not extend to all known lands, as, for example, to Nova Zembla. It
does not hold true of the other planets. Nor does it extend to all
possible lands. We can easily conceive of lands plunged in eternal
night, or rolling in eternal day. With another system of worlds, one can
conceive other physics, but one can not conceive other metaphysics. It
is impossible to imagine a world in which the law of causality does not
reign. Here, then, we have one absolute principle (among others which
may be enumerated), the existence and reality of which is revealed, not
by sensation, but by reason--a principle which transcends the limits of
experience, and which, in its regular and logical development, attains
the knowledge of the Absolute Cause--the First Cause of all causes--God.

Thus it is evident that the human mind is in possession of two distinct
orders of primitive cognitions,--one, contingent, relative, and
phenomenal; the other universal, necessary, and absolute. These two
distinct orders of cognition presuppose the existence in man of two
distinct faculties or organs of knowledge--_sensation_, external and
internal, which perceives the contingent, relative, and phenomenal, and
_reason_, which apprehends the universal, necessary, and absolute. The
knowledge which is derived from sensation and experience is called
_empirical_ knowledge, or knowledge _à posteriori_, because subsequent
to, and consequent upon, the exercise of the faculties of observation.
The knowledge derived from reason is called _transcendental_ knowledge,
or knowledge _à priori_, because it furnishes laws to, and governs the
exercise of the faculties of observation and thought, and is not the
result of their exercise. The sensibility brings the mind into relation
with the _physical_ world, the reason puts mind in communication with
the _intelligible_ world--the sphere of _à priori_ principles, of
necessary and absolute truths, which depend upon neither the world nor
the conscious self, and which reveal to man the existence of the soul,
nature, and God. Every distinct fact of consciousness is thus at once
_psychological_ and _ontological_, and contains these three fundamental
ideas, which we can not go beyond, or cancel by any possible
analysis--the _soul_, with its faculties; _matter_, with its qualities;
_God_, with his perfections.

We do not profess to be able to give a clear explication and complete
enumeration of all the ideas of reason, and of the necessary and
universal principles or axioms which are grounded on these ideas. This
is still the grand desideratum of metaphysical science. Its achievement
will give us a primordial logic, which shall be as exact in its
procedure and as certain in its conclusions as the mathematical
sciences. Meantime, it may be affirmed that philosophic analysis, in the
person of Plato, Aristotle, Kant, and Cousin, has succeeded in
disengaging such _à priori_ ideas, and formulating such principles and
laws of thought, as lead infallibly to the cognition of the _Absolute
Being_, the _Absolute Reason_, the _Absolute Good_, that is, GOD.

It would carry us too far beyond our present design were we to exhibit,
in each instance, the process of _immediate abstraction_ by which the
contingent and relative element of knowledge is eliminated, and the
necessary and absolute principle is disengaged. We shall simply state
the method, and show its application by a single illustration.

There are unquestionably _two_ sorts of abstraction: 1. "_Comparative_
abstraction, operating upon several real objects, and seizing their
resemblances in order to form an abstract idea, which is collective and
mediate; collective, because different individuals concur in its
formation; mediate, because it requires several intermediate
operations." This is the method of the physical sciences, which
comprises comparison, abstraction, and generalization. The result in
this process is the attainment of a _general_ truth. 2. "_Immediate_
abstraction, not comparative; operating not upon several concretes, but
upon a single one, eliminating and neglecting its individual and
variable part, and disengaging the absolute part, which it raises at
once to its pure form." The parts to be eliminated in a concrete
cognition are, first, the quality of the object, and the circumstances
under which the absolute unfolds itself; and secondly, the quality of
the subject, which perceives but does not constitute it. The phenomena
of the me and the not-me being eliminated, the absolute remains. This is
the process of rational psychology, and the result obtained is a
_universal_ and _necessary_ truth.

"Let us take, as an example, the principle of cause. To be able to say
that the event I see must have a cause, it is not indispensable to have
seen several events succeed each other. The principle which compels me
to pronounce this judgment is already complete in the first as in the
last event; it can not change in respect to its object, it can not
change in itself; it neither increases nor decreases with the greater or
less number of applications. The only difference that it is subject to
in regard to us is that we apply it, whether we remark it or not,
whether we disengage it or not from its particular application. The
question is not to eliminate the particularity of the phenomenon wherein
it appears to us, whether it be the fall of a leaf or the murder of a
man, in order immediately to conceive, in a general and abstract manner,
the necessity of a cause for every event that begins to exist. Here it
is not because I am the same, or have been affected in the same manner
in several different cases, that I have come to this general and
abstract conception. A leaf falls; at the same moment I think, I
believe, I declare that this falling of the leaf must have a cause. A
man has been killed; at the same instant I believe, I proclaim that this
death must have a cause. Each one of these facts contains particular and
variable circumstances, and something universal and necessary, to wit,
both of them can not but have a cause. Now I am perfectly able to
disengage the universal from the particular in regard to the first fact
as well as in regard to the second fact, for the universal is in the
first quite as well as in the second. In fact, if the principle of
causality is not universal in the first fact, neither will it be in the
second, nor in the third, nor in the thousandth; for a thousandth is not
nearer than the first to the infinite--to absolute universality. It is
the same, and still more evidently, with _necessity_. Pay particular
attention to this point; if necessity is not in the first fact, it can
not be in any; for necessity can not be formed little by little, and by
successive increments. If, on the first murder I see, I do not exclaim
that this murder had necessarily a cause, at the thousandth murder,
although it shall be proved that all the others had causes, I shall have
the right to think that this murder has, very probably, also a cause,
but I shall never have the right to say that it _necessarily_ had a
cause. But when universality and necessity are already in a single case,
that case is sufficient to entitle me to deduce them from it,"[225] and
we may add, also, to affirm them of every other event that may
transpire.

[Footnote 225: Cousin, "True, Beautiful, and Good," pp. 57, 58.]

The following _schema_ will exhibit the generally accepted results of
this method of analysis applied to the phenomena of thought:

(i.) _Universal and necessary principles, or primitive judgments from
whence is derived the cognition of Absolute Being_.

1. _The principle of Substance_; thus enounced--"every quality supposes
a _subject_ or real being."

2. _The principle of Causality_; "every thing that begins to be supposes
a _power_ adequate to its production, _i.e._, an efficient cause."

3. _The principle of Unity_; "all differentiation and plurality supposes
an incomposite unity; all diversity, an ultimate and indivisible
identity."

4. _The principle of the Unconditioned_; "the finite supposes the
infinite, the dependent supposes the self-existent, the temporal
supposes the eternal."

(ii.) _Universal and necessary principles, or primitive judgments, from
which is derived the cognition of the Absolute Reason_.

1. _The principle of Ideality_; thus enounced, "facts of order--definite
proportion, symmetrical arrangement, numerical relation, geometrical
form--having a commencement in time, present themselves to us as the
expression of _Ideas_, and refer us to _Mind_ as their analogon, and
exponent, and source."

2. _The principle of Consecution_; "the uniform succession and
progressive evolution of new existences, according to fixed definite
archetypes, suppose a unity of _thought_--a comprehensive _plan_
embracing all existence."

3. _The principle of Intentionality or Final Cause_; "every means
supposes an _end_ contemplated, and a choice and adaptation of means to
secure the _end_."

4. _The principle of Personality_; "intelligent purpose and voluntary
choice imply a personal agent."

(iii.) _Universal and necessary principles, or primitive judgments, from
whence is derived the cognition of the Absolute Good_.

1. _The principle of Moral Law_; thus enounced, "the action of a
voluntary agent necessarily characterized as _right_ or _wrong_,
supposes an immutable and universal standard of right--an absolute moral
Law."

2. _The principle of Moral Obligation_; "the feeling of obligation to
obey a law of duty supposes a _Lawgiver_ by whose authority we are
obliged."

3. _The principle of Moral Desert_; "the feeling of personal
accountability and of moral desert supposes a _judge_ to whom we must
give account, and who shall determine our award."

4. _The pnnciple of Retribution_; "retributive issues in this life, and
the existence in all minds of an impersonal justice which demands that,
in the final issue, every being shall receive his just deserts, suppose
a being of _absolute justice_ who shall render to every man according to
his works."

A more profound and exhaustive analysis may perhaps resolve all these
primitive judgments into one universal principle or law, which Leibnitz
has designated "_The principle or law of sufficient reason_," and which
is thus enounced--there must be an ultimate and sufficient reason why
any thing exists, and why it is, rather than otherwise; that is, if any
thing begins to be, something else must be supposed as the adequate
ground, and reason, and cause of its existence; or again, to state the
law in view of our present discussion, "_if the finite universe, with
its existing order and arrangement, had a beginning, there must be an
ultimate and sufficient reason why it exists, and why it is as it is,
rather than otherwise_." In view of one particular class of phenomena,
or special order of facts, this "principle of sufficient reason" may be
varied in the form of its statement, and denominated "the principle of
substance," "the principle of causality," "the principle of
intentionality," etc.; and, it may be, these are but specific judgments
under the one fundamental and generic law of thought which constitutes
the _major_ premise of every Theistic syllogism.

These fundamental principles, primitive judgments, axioms, or necessary
and determinate forms of thought, exist potentially or germinally in all
human minds; they are spontaneously developed in presence of the
phenomena of the universe, material and mental; they govern the original
movement of the mind, even when not appearing in consciousness in their
pure and abstract form; and they compel us to affirm _a permanent being_
or _reality_ behind all phenomena--a _power_ adequate to the production
of change, back of all events; a _personal Mind_, as the explanation of
all the facts of order, and uniform succession, and regular evolution;
and a _personal Lawgiver_ and _Righteous Judge_ as the ultimate ground
and reason of all the phenomena of the moral world; in short, to affirm
_an Unconditioned Cause of all finite and secondary causes; a First
Principle of all principles; an Ultimate Reason of all reasons; an
immutable Uncreated Justice, the living light of conscience; a King
immortal, eternal, invisible, the only wise God, the ruler of the world
and man_.

Our position, then, is, that the idea of God is revealed to man in the
natural and spontaneous development of his intelligence, and that the
existence of a Supreme Reality corresponding to, and represented by this
idea, is rationally and logically demonstrable, and therefore justly
entitled to take rank as part of our legitimate, valid, and positive
_knowledge_.

And now from this position, which we regard as impregnable, we shall be
prepared more deliberately and intelligibly to contemplate the various
assaults which are openly or covertly made upon the doctrine that _God
is cognizable by human reason_.




CHAPTER VI.

THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).

IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON?


"The abnegation of reason is not the evidence of faith, but the
confession of despair."--LIGHTFOOT.

At the outset of this inquiry we attempted a hasty grouping of the
various parties and schools which are arrayed against the doctrine that
God is cognizable by human reason, and in general terms we sought to
indicate the ground they occupy.

Viewed from a philosophical stand-point, we found one party marshalled
under the standard of Idealism; another of Materialism and, again,
another of Natural Realism. Regarded in their theological aspects, some
are positive Atheists; others, strange to say, are earnest Theists;
whilst others occupy a position of mere Indifferentism. Yet,
notwithstanding the remarkable diversity, and even antagonism of their
philosophical and theological opinions, they are all agreed in denying
to reason any valid cognition of God.

The survey of Natural Theism we have completed in the previous chapter
will enable us still further to indicate the exact points against which
their attacks are directed, and also to estimate the character and force
of the weapons employed. With or without design, they are, each in their
way, assailing one or other of the principles upon which we rest our
demonstration of the being of God. As we proceed, we shall find that
Mill and the Constructive Idealists are really engaged in undermining
"the _principle of substance_;" their doctrine is a virtual denial of
all objective realities answering to our subjective ideas of matter,
mind, and God. The assaults of Comte and the Materialists of his school
are mainly directed against "_the principle of causality_" and "_the
principle of intentionality_;" they would deny to man all knowledge of
causes, efficient and final. The attacks of Hamilton and his school are
directed against "the _principle of the unconditioned_," his philosophy
of the conditioned is a plausible attempt to deprive man of all power to
think the Infinite and Perfect, to conceive the Unconditioned and
Ultimate Cause; whilst the Dogmatic Theologians are borrowing, and
recklessly brandishing, the weapons of all these antagonists, and, in
addition to all this, are endeavoring to show the insufficiency of "_the
principle of unity_" and the weakness and invalidity of "the _moral
principles_," which are regarded by us as relating man to a Moral
Personality, and as indicating to him the existence of a righteous God,
the ruler of the world. It is necessary, therefore, that we should
concentrate our attention yet more specifically on these separate lines
of attack, and attempt a minuter examination of the positions assumed by
each, and of the arguments by which they are seeking, directly or
indirectly, to invalidate the fundamental principles of Natural Theism.

(i.) _We commence with the Idealistic School_, of which John Stuart Mill
must be regarded as the ablest living representative.

The doctrine of this school is that all our knowledge is necessarily
confined to _mental_ phenomena; that is, "to _feelings_ or states of
consciousness," and "the succession and co-existence, the likeness and
unlikeness between these feelings or states of consciousness."[226] All
our general notions, all our abstract ideas, are generated out of these
feelings[227] by "_inseparable association_," which registers their
inter-relations of recurrence, co-existence, and resemblance. The
results of this inseparable association constitute at once the sum total
and the absolute limit of all possible cognition.

[Footnote 226: J. S. Mill, "Logic," vol. i. p. 83 (English edition).]

[Footnote 227: In the language of Mill, every thing of which we are
conscious is called "feeling." "Feeling, in the proper sense of the
term, is a genus of which Sensation, Emotion, and Thought are the
subordinate species."--"Logic," bk. i. ch. iii. § 3.]

It is admitted by Mill that one _apparent_ element in this total result
is the general conviction that our own existence is really distinct from
the external world, and that the personal _ego_ has an essential
identity distinct from the fleeting phenomena of sensation. But this
persuasion is treated by him as a mere illusion--a leap beyond the
original datum for which we have no authority. Of a real substance or
substratum called Mind, of a real substance or substratum called Matter,
underlying the series of feelings--"the thread of consciousness"--we do
know and can know nothing; and in affirming the existence of such
substrata we are making a supposition we can not possibly verify. The
ultimate datum of speculative philosophy is not "_I think_," but simply
"_Thoughts or feelings are_." The belief in a permanent subject or
substance, called matter, as the ground and plexus of physical
phenomena, and of a permanent subject or substance, called mind, as the
ground and plexus of mental phenomena, is not a primitive and original
intuition οf reason. It is simply through the action of the principle of
association among the ultimate phenomena, called feelings, that this
(erroneous) separation of the phenomena into two orders or
aggregates--one called mind or self; the other matter, or not
self--takes place; and without this curdling or associating process no
such notion or belief could have been generated. "The principle of
substance," as an ultimate law of thought, is, therefore, to be regarded
as a transcendental dream.

But now that the notion of _mind_ or _self_, and of _matter_ or not
_self_, do exist as common convictions of our race, what is philosophy
to make of them? After a great many qualifications and explanations, Mr.
Mill has, in his "Logic," summed up his doctrine of Constructive
Idealism in the following words: "As body is the mysterious _something_
which excites the mind to feel, so mind is the mysterious _something_
which feels and thinks."[228] But what is this "mysterious something?"
Is it a reality, an entity, a subject; or is it a shadow, an illusion, a
dream? In his "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," where it
may be presumed, we have his maturest opinions, Mr. Mill, in still more
abstract and idealistic phraseology, attempts an answer. Here he defines
matter as "_a permanent possibility of sensation_,"[229] and mind as "_a
permanent possibility of feeling_."[230] And "the belief in these
permanent possibilities," he assures us, "includes all that is essential
or characteristic in the belief in substance."[231] "If I am asked,"
says he, "whether I believe in matter, I ask whether the questioner
accepts this definition of it. If he does, I believe in matter: and so
do all Berkeleians. In any other sense than this, I do not. But I affirm
with confidence that this conception of matter includes the whole
meaning attached to it by the common world, apart from philosophical,
and sometimes from theological theories. The reliance of mankind on the
real existence of visible and tangible objects, means reliance on the
reality and permanence of possibilities of visual and tactual
sensations, when no sensations are actually experienced."[232]
"Sensations," however, let it be borne in mind, are but a subordinate
species of the genus feeling.[233] They are "states of
consciousness"--phenomena of mind, not of matter; and we are still
within the impassable boundary of ideal phenomena; we have yet no
cognition of an external world. The sole cosmical conception, for us, is
still a succession of sensations, or states of consciousness. This is
the one phenomenon which we can not transcend in knowledge, do what we
will; all else is hypothesis and illusion. The _non-ego_, after all,
then, may be but a mode in which the mind represents to itself the
possible modifications of the _ego_.

[Footnote 228: "Logic," bk. i, ch. iii. § 8.]

[Footnote 229: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 243.]

[Footnote 230: Ibid., vol. i. p. 253.]

[Footnote 231: Ibid., vol. i. p. 246.]

[Footnote 232: Ibid., vol. i. pp. 243, 244.]

[Footnote 233: "Logic," bk. i. ch. iii. § 3.]

And now that matter, as a real existence, has disappeared under Mr.
Mill's analysis, what shall be said of mind or self? Is there any
permanent subject or real entity underlying the phenomena of feeling? In
feeling, is there a personal self that feels, thinks, and wills? It
would seem not. Mind, as well as matter, resolves itself into a "series
of feelings," varying and fugitive from moment to moment, in a sea of
possibilities of feeling. "My mind," says Mill, "is but a series of
feelings, or, as it has been called, a thread of consciousness, however
supplemented by believed possibilities of consciousness, which are not,
though they might be, realized."[234]

[Footnote 234: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 254.]

The ultimate fact of the phenomenal world, then, in the philosophy of
Mill, is neither matter nor mind, but feelings or states of
consciousness associated together by the relations, amongst themselves,
of recurrence, co-existence, and resemblance. The existence of self,
except as "a series of feelings;" the existence of any thing other than
self, except as a feigned unknown cause of sensation, is rigorously
denied. Mr. Mill does not content himself with saying that we are
ignorant of the _nature_ of matter and mind, but he asserts we are
ignorant of the _existence_ of matter and mind as real entities.

The bearing of this doctrine of Idealism upon Theism and Theology will
be instantly apparent to the reader. If I am necessarily ignorant of the
existence of the external world, and of the personal _ego_, or real
self, I must be equally ignorant of the existence of God. If one is a
mere supposition, an illusion, so the other must be. Mr. Mill, however,
is one of those courteous and affable writers who are always conscious,
as it were, of the presence of their readers, and extremely careful not
to shock their feelings or prejudices; besides, he has too much
conscious self-respect to avow himself an atheist. As a speculative
philosopher, he would rather regard Theism and Theology as "open
questions," and he satisfies himself with saying, if you believe in the
existence of God, or in Christianity, I do not interfere with you. "As a
theory," he tells us that his doctrine leaves the evidence of the
existence of God exactly as it was before. Supposing me to believe that
the Divine mind is simply the series of the Divine thoughts and feelings
prolonged through eternity, that would be, at any rate, believing God's
existence to be _as real as my own_[235]. And as for evidence, the
argument of Paley's 'Natural Theology,' or, for that matter, of his
'Evidences of Christianity,' would stand exactly as it does.

The design argument is drawn from the analogies of human experience.
From the relation which human works bear to human thoughts and feelings,
it infers a corresponding relation between works more or less similar,
but superhuman, and superhuman thoughts and feelings. _If_ it prove
these, nobody but a metaphysician needs care whether or not it proves a
mysterious _substratum_ for them.[236] The argument from design, it
seems to us, however, would have no validity if there be no external
world offering marks of design. If the external world is only a mode of
feeling, a series of mental states, then our notion of the Divine
Existence may be only "an association of feelings"--a mode of Self. And
if we have no positive knowledge of a real self as existing, and God's
existence is no more "real than our own," then the Divine existence
stands on a very dubious and uncertain foundation. It can have no very
secure hold upon the human mind, and certainly has no claim to be
regarded as a fundamental and necessary belief. That it has a very
precarious hold upon the mind of Mr. Mill, is evident from the following
passage in his article on "_Later Speculations of A. Comte_."[237] "We
venture to think that a religion may exist without a belief in a God,
and that a religion without a God may be, even to Christians, an
instructive and profitable object of contemplation."

And now let us close Mr. Mill's book, and, introverting our mental gaze,
interrogate _consciousness_, the verdict of which, even Mr. Mill assures
us, is admitted on all hands to be a decision without appeal.[238]

[Footnote 235: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 254.]

[Footnote 236: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 259.]

[Footnote 237: Westminster Review, July, 1835 (American edition), p. 3.]

[Footnote 238: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 161.]

1. We have an ineradicable, and, as it would seem, an intuitive faith in
the real existence of an external world distinct from our sensations,
and also of a personal self, which we call "I," "myself," as distinct
from "my sensations," and "my feelings." We find, also, that this is
confessedly the common belief of mankind. There have been a few
philosophers who have affected to treat this belief as a "mere
prejudice," an "illusion;" but they have never been able, practically,
so to regard and treat it. Their language, just as plainly as the
language of the common people, betrays their instinctive faith in an
outer world, and proves their utter inability to emancipate themselves
from this "prejudice," if such it may please them to call it. In view of
this acknowledged fact, we ask--Does the term "_permanent possibility of
sensations_" exhaust all that is contained in this conception of an
external world? This evening I _remember_ that at noonday I beheld the
sun, and experienced a sensation of warmth whilst exposing myself to his
rays; and I _expect_ that to-morrow, under the same conditions, I shall
experience the same sensations. I now _remember_ that last evening I
extinguished my light and attempted to leave my study, but, coming in
contact with the closed door, experienced a sense of resistance to my
muscular effort, by a solid and extended body exterior to myself; and I
_expect_ that this evening, under the same circumstances, I shall
experience the same sensations. Now, does a belief in "a permanent
possibility of sensations" explain all these experiences? does it
account for that immediate knowledge of an _external_ object which I had
on looking at the sun, or that presentative knowledge of _resistance_
and _extension_, and of an extended, resisting _substance_, I had when
in contact with the door of my study? Mr. Mill very confidently affirms
that this belief includes all; and this phrase expresses all the meaning
attached to extended "matter" and resisting "substance" by the common
world.[239] We as confidently affirm that it does no such thing; and as
"the common world" must be supposed to understand the language of
consciousness as well as the philosopher, we are perfectly willing to
leave the decision of that question to the common consciousness of our
race. If all men do not believe in a permanent _reality_--a substance
which is external to themselves, a substance which offers resistance to
their muscular effort, and which produces in them the sensations of
solidity, extension, resistance, etc.--they believe nothing and know
nothing at all about the matter.

[Footnote 239: "Examination of Sir Wm. Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i.
p. 243.]

Still less does the phrase "_a permanent possibility of feelings"_
exhaust all our conception of a personal self. Recurring to the
experiences of yesterday, I _remember_ the feelings I experienced on
beholding the sun, and also on pressing against the closed door, and I
confidently _expect_ the recurrence, under the same circumstances, of
the same feelings. Does the belief in "a permanent possibility of
feelings" explain the act of memory by which I recall the past event,
and the act of prevision by which I anticipate the recurrence of the
like experience in the future? Who or what is the "I" that remembers and
the "I" that anticipates? The "ego," the personal mind, is, according to
Mill, a mere "series of feelings," or, more correctly, a flash of
"_present_ feelings" on "a background of possibilities of present
feelings."[240] If, then, there be no permanent substance or reality
which is the subject of the present feeling, which receives and retains
the impress of the past feeling, and which anticipates the recurrence of
like feelings in the future, how can the _past_ be recalled, how
distinguished from the present? and how, without a knowledge of the past
as distinguished from the present, can the _future_ be forecast? Mr.
Mill feels the pressure of this difficulty, and frankly acknowledges it.
He admits that, on the hypothesis that mind is simply "a series of
feelings," the phenomena of memory and expectation are "inexplicable"
and "incomprehensible."[241] He is, therefore, under the necessity of
completing his definition of mind by adding that it is a series of
feelings which "_is aware of itself as a series_;" and, still further,
of supplementing this definition by the conjecture that "_something
which has ceased to exist, or is not yet in existence, can still, in a
manner, be present_."[242] Now he who can understand how a series of
feelings can flow on in time, and from moment to moment drop out of the
present into non-existence, and yet be _present_ and _conscious of
itself as a series_, may be accorded the honor of understanding Mr.
Mill's definition of mind or self, and may be permitted to rank himself
as a distinguished disciple of the Idealist school; for ourselves, we
acknowledge we are destitute of the capacity to do the one, and of all
ambition to be the other. And he who can conceive how the _past_ feeling
of yesterday and the _possible_ feeling of to-morrow can be in any
manner _present_ to-day; or, in other words, how any thing which has
ceased to exist, or which never had an existence, can _now_ exist, may
be permitted to believe that a thing can be and not be at the same
moment, that a part is greater than the whole, and that two and two make
five; but we are not ashamed to confess our inability to believe a
contradiction. To our understanding, "possibilities of feeling" are not
actualities. They may or may not be realized, and until realized in
consciousness, they have no real being. If there be no other background
of mental phenomena save mere "possibilities of feeling," then present
feelings are the only existences, the only reality, and a loss of
immediate consciousness, as in narcosis and coma, is the loss of all
personality, all self-hood, and of all real being.

[Footnote 240: "Exam. of Hamilton," vol. i. p. 260.]

[Footnote 241: Ibid, p. 262.]

[Footnote 242: Ibid.]

2. What, then, is the verdict of consciousness as to the existence of a
permanent substance, an abiding existence which is the subject of all
the varying phenomena? Of what are we really conscious when we say "I
think," "I feel," "I will?" Are we simply conscious of thought, feeling,
and volition, or of a self, a person, which thinks, feels, and wills?
The man who honestly and unreservedly accepts the testimony of
consciousness in all its integrity must answer at once, _we have an
immediate consciousness, not merely of the phenomena of mind, but of a
personal self as passively or actively related to the phenomena_. We are
conscious not merely of the act of volition, but of a self, a power,
producing the volition. We are conscious not merely of feeling, but of a
being who is the subject of the feeling. We are conscious not simply of
thought, but of a real entity that thinks. "It is clearly a flat
contradiction to maintain that I am not immediately conscious of myself,
but only of my sensations or volitions. Who, then, is that _I_ that is
conscious, and how can I be conscious of such states as _mine?_"[243]

[Footnote 243: Mansel, "Prolegomena Logica," p. 122, and note E, p.
281.]

The testimony of consciousness, then, is indubitable that we have a
direct, immediate cognition of _self_--I know myself as a distinctly
existing being. This permanent self, to which I refer the earlier and
later stages of consciousness, the past as well as the present feeling,
and which I know abides the same under all phenomenal changes,
constitutes my personal identity. It is this abiding self which unites
the past and the present, and, from the present stretches onward to the
future. We know self immediately, as existing, as in active operation,
and as having permanence--or, in other words, as a "_substance_." This
one immediately presented substance, myself, may be regarded as
furnishing a positive basis for that other notion of substance, which is
representatively thought, as the subject of all sensible qualities.

3. We may now inquire what is the testimony of consciousness as to the
existence of the extra-mental world? Are we conscious of perceiving
external objects immediately and in themselves, or only mediately
through some vicarious image or representative idea to which we
fictitiously ascribe an objective reality?

The answer of common sense is that we are immediately conscious, in
perception, of an _ego_ and a _non-ego_ known together, and known in
contrast to each other; we are conscious of a perceiving subject, and of
an external reality, as the object perceived.[244] To state this
doctrine of natural realism still more explicitly we add, that we are
conscious of the immediate perception of certain essential attributes of
matter objectively existing. Of these primary qualities, which are
immediately perceived as real and objectively existing, we mention
_extension_ in space and _resistance_ to muscular effort, with which is
indissolubly associated the idea of _externality_. It is true that
extension and resistance are only qualities, but it is equally true that
they are qualities of something, and of something which is external to
ourselves. Let any one attempt to conceive of extension without
something which is extended, or of resistance apart from something which
offers resistance, and he will be convinced that we can never know
qualities without knowing substance, just as we can not know substance
without knowing qualities. This, indeed, is admitted by Mr. Mill.[245]
And if this be admitted, it must certainly be absurd to speak of
substance as something "unknown." Substance is known just as much as
quality is known, no less and no more.

[Footnote 244: Hamilton, "Lectures," vol. 1. p. 288.]

[Footnote 245: "Logic," bk. i. ch. iii. § 6.]

We remark, in conclusion, that if the testimony of consciousness is not
accepted in all its integrity, we are necessarily involved in the
Nihilism of Hume and Fichte; the phenomena of mind and matter are, on
analysis, resolved into an absolute nothingness--"a play of phantasms in
a void."[246]

(ii.) We turn, secondly, to the _Materialistic School_ as represented by
Aug. Comte.

The doctrine of this school is that all knowledge is limited to
_material_ phenomena--that is, to appearances _perceptible to sense_. We
do not know the essence of any object, nor the real mode of procedure of
any event, but simply its relations to other events, as similar or
dissimilar, co-existent or successive. These relations are constant;
under the same conditions, they are always the same. The constant
resemblances which link phenomena together, and the constant sequences
which unite them, as antecedent and consequent, are termed _laws_. The
laws of phenomena are all we know respecting them. Their essential
nature and their ultimate causes, _efficient_ or _final_, are unknown
and inscrutable to us.[247]

[Footnote 246: Masson, "Recent British Philos.," p. 62.]

[Footnote 247: See art. "Positive Philos. of A. Comte," _Westminster
Review_, April, 1865, p. 162, Am. ed.]

It is not our intention to review the system of philosophy propounded by
Aug. Comte; we are now chiefly concerned with his denial of all
causation.

1. _As to Efficient Causes_.--Had Comte contented himself with the
assertion that causes lie beyond the field of sensible observation, and
that inductive science can not carry us beyond the relations of
co-existence and succession among phenomena, he would have stated an
important truth, but certainly not a new truth. It had already been
announced by distinguished mental philosophers, as, for example, M. de
Biran and Victor Cousin.[248] The senses give us only the succession of
one phenomenon to another. I hold a piece of wax to the fire and it
melts. Here my senses inform me of two successive phenomena--the
proximity of fire and the melting of wax. It is now agreed among all
schools of philosophy that this is all the knowledge the senses can
possibly supply. The observation of a great number of like cases assures
us that this relation is uniform. The highest scientific generalization
does not carry us one step beyond this fact. Induction, therefore, gives
us no access to causes beyond phenomena. Still, this does not justify
Comte in the assertion that causes are to us absolutely _unknown_. The
question would still arise whether we have not some faculty of
knowledge, distinct from sensation, which is adequate to furnish a valid
cognition of cause. It does not by any means follow that, because the
idea of causation is not given as a "physical quæsitum" at the end of a
process of scientific generalization, it should not be a "metaphysical
datum" posited at the very beginning of scientific inquiry, as the
indispensable condition of our being able to cognize phenomena at all,
and as the law under which all thought, and all conception of the system
of nature, is alone possible.

[Footnote 248: "It is now universally admitted that we have no
perception of the causal nexus in the material world."--Hamilton,
"Discussions," p. 522.]

Now we affirm that the human mind has just as direct, immediate, and
positive knowledge of _cause_ as it has of _effect._ The idea of cause,
the intuition _power_, is given in the immediate consciousness of _mind
as determining its own_ operations. Our first, and, in fact, our only
presentation of power or cause, is that of _self as willing_. In every
act of volition I am fully conscious that it is in my power to form a
resolution or to refrain from it, to determine on this course of action
or that; and this constitutes the immediate presentative knowledge of
power.[249] The will is a power, a power in action, a productive power,
and, consequently, a cause. This doctrine is stated with remarkable
clearness and accuracy by Cousin: "If we seek the notion of cause in the
action of one ball upon another, as was previously done by Hume, or in
the action of the hand upon the ball, or the primary muscles upon the
extremities, or even in the action of the will upon the muscles, as was
done by M. Maine de Biran, we shall find it in none of these cases, not
even in the last; for it is possible there should be a paralysis of the
muscles which deprives the will of power over them, makes it
unproductive, incapable of being a cause, and, consequently, of
suggesting the notion of one. But what no paralysis can prevent is the
action of the will upon itself, the production of a resolution; that is
to say, the act of causation entirely mental, the primitive type of all
causality, of which all external movements are only symbols more or less
imperfect. The first cause for us, is, therefore, the _will_, of which
the first effect is volition. This is at once the highest and the purest
source of the notion of cause, which thus becomes identical with that of
personality. And it is the taking possession, so to speak, of the cause,
as revealed in will and personality, which is the condition for us of
the ulterior or simultaneous conception of external, impersonal
causes."[250]

[Footnote 249: "It is our _immediate consciousness of effort_, when we
exert force to put matter in motion, or to oppose and neutralize force,
which gives us this internal conviction of _power_ and _causation_, so
far as it refers to the material world, and compels us to believe that
whenever we see material objects put in motion from a state of rest, or
deflected from their rectilinear paths and changed in their velocities
if already in motion, it is in consequence of such an _effort_ somehow
exerted."--Herschel's "Outlines of Astronomy," p. 234; see Mansel's
"Prolegomena," p. 133.]

[Footnote 250: "Philosophical Fragments," Preface to first edition.]

Thus much for the origin of the idea of cause. We have the same direct
intuitive knowledge of cause that we have of effect; but we have not yet
rendered a full and adequate account of the _principle of causality_. We
have simply attained the notion of our personal causality, and we can
not arbitrarily substitute our personal causality for all the causes of
the universe, and erect our own experience as a law of the entire
universe. We have, however, already seen (Chap. V.) that the belief in
exterior causation is _necessary_ and _universal_. When a change takes
place, when a new phenomenon presents itself to our senses, we can not
avoid the conviction that it must have a cause. We can not even express
in language the relations of phenomena in time and space, without
speaking of causes. And there is not a rational being on the face of the
globe--a child, a savage, or a philosopher--who does not instinctively
and spontaneously affirm that every movement, every change, every new
existence, _must_ have a cause. Now what account can philosophy render
of this universal belief? One answer, and only one, is possible. The
_reason_ of man (that power of which Comte takes no account) is in fixed
and changeless relation to the principle of causation, just as _sense_
is in fixed and changeless relation to exterior phenomena, so that we
can not know the external world, can not think or speak of phenomenal
existence, except as _effects_. In the expressive and forcible language
of Jas. Martineau: "By an irresistible law of thought _all phenomena
present themselves to us as the expression of power_, and refer us to a
causal ground whence they issue. This dynamic source we neither see, nor
hear, nor feel; it is given in _thought_, supplied by the spontaneous
activity of mind as the correlative prefix to the phenomena
observed."[251] Unless, then, we are prepared to deny the validity of
all our rational intuitions, we can not avoid accepting "this subjective
postulate as a valid law for objective nature." If the intuitions of our
reason are pronounced deceptive and mendacious, so also must the
intuitions of the senses be pronounced illusory and false. Our whole
intellectual constitution is built up on false and erroneous principles,
and all knowledge of whatever kind must perish by "the contagion of
uncertainty."

[Footnote 251: "Essays," p. 47.]

Comte, however, is determined to treat the idea of causation as an
illusion, whether under its psychological form, as _will_, or under its
scientific form, as _force_. He feels that Theology is inevitable if we
permit the inquiry into causes;[252] and he is more anxious that
theology should perish than that truth should prevail. The human will
must, therefore, be robbed of all semblance of freedom, lest it should
suggest the idea of a Supreme Will governing nature; and human action,
like all other phenomena, must be reduced to uniform and necessary law.
All feelings, ideas, and principles guaranteed to us by consciousness
are to be cast out of the account. Psychology, resting on
self-observation, is pronounced a delusion. The immediate consciousness
of freedom is a dream. Such a procedure, to say the least of it, is
highly unphilosophical; to say the truth about it, it is obviously
dishonest. Every fact of human nature, just as much as every fact of
physical nature, must be accepted in all its integrity, or all must be
alike rejected. The phenomena of mind can no more be disregarded than
the phenomena of matter. Rational intuitions, necessary and universal
beliefs, can no more be ignored than the uniform facts of
sense-perception, without rendering a system of knowledge necessarily
incomplete, and a system of truth utterly impossible. Every one truth is
connected with every other truth in the universe. And yet Comte demands
that a large class of facts, the most immediate and direct of all our
cognitions, shall be rejected because they are not in harmony with the
fundamental assumption of the positive philosophy that all knowledge is
confined to _phenomena perceptible to sense_. Now it were just as easy
to cast the Alps into the Mediterranean as to obliterate from the human
intelligence the primary cognitions of immediate consciousness, or to
relegate the human reason from the necessary laws of thought. Comte
himself can not emancipate his own mind from a belief in the validity of
the testimony of consciousness. How can he know himself as distinct from
nature, as a living person, as the same being he was ten years ago, or
even yesterday, except by an appeal to consciousness? Despite his
earnestly-avowed opinions as to the inutility and fallaciousness of all
psychological inquiries, he is compelled to admit that "the phenomena of
life" are "_known by immediate consciousness_."[253] Now the knowledge
of our personal freedom rests on precisely the same grounds as the
knowledge of our personal existence. The same "immediate consciousness"
which attests that I exist, attests also, with equal distinctness and
directness, that I am self-determined and free.

[Footnote 252: "The _inevitable tendency_ of our intelligence is towards
a philosophy radically theological, so often as we seek to penetrate, on
whatever pretext, into the intimate nature of phenomena" (vol. iv. p.
664).]

[Footnote 253: "Positive Philos," vol. ii. p. 648.]

In common with most atheistical writers, Comte is involved in the fatal
contradiction of at one time assuming, and at another of denying the
freedom of the will, to serve the exigencies of his theory. To prove
that the order of the universe can not be the product of a Supreme
Intelligence, he assumes that the products of mind must be characterized
by freedom and variety--the phenomena of mind must not be subject to
uniform and necessary laws; and inasmuch as the phenomena presented by
external nature are subject to uniform and changeless laws, they can not
be the product of mind. "Look at the whole frame of things," says he;
"how can it be the product of mind--of a supernatural Will? Is it not
subject to regular laws, and do we not actually obtain _prevision_ of
its phenomena? If it were the product of mind, its order would be
variable and free." Here, then, it is admitted that _freedom is an
essential characteristic of mind_. And this admission is no doubt a
thoughtless, unconscious betrayal of the innate belief of all minds in
the freedom of the will. But when Comte comes to deal with this freedom
as an objective question of philosophy, when he directs his attention to
the only will of which we have a direct and immediate knowledge, he
denies freedom and variety, and asserts in the most arbitrary manner
that the movements of the mind, like all the phenomena of nature, must
be subject to uniform, changeless, and necessary laws. And if we have
not yet been able to reduce the movements of mind, like the movements of
the planets, to statistics, and have not already obtained accurate
prevision of its successions or sequences as we have of physical
phenomena, it is simply the consequence of our inattention to, or
ignorance of, all the facts. We answer, there are no facts so directly
and intuitively known as the facts of consciousness; and, therefore, an
argument based upon our supposed ignorance of these facts is not likely
to have much weight against our immediate consciousness of personal
freedom. There is not any thing we know so immediately, so certainly, so
positively, as this fact--_we are free_.

The word "force," representing as it does a subtile menial conception,
and not a phenomenon of sense, must also be banished from the domains of
Positive Science as an intruder, lest its presence should lend any
countenance to the idea of causation. "Forces in mechanics are only
_movements_, produced, or tending to be produced." In order to "cancel
altogether the old metaphysical notion of force," another form of
expression is demanded. It is claimed that all we do know or can
possibly know is the successions of phenomena in time. What, then, is
the term which henceforth, in our dynamics, shall take the place of
"force?" Is it "Time-succession?" Then let any one attempt to express
the various forms and intensities of movement and change presented to
the senses (as _e.g._, the phenomena of heat, electricity, galvanism,
magnetism, muscular and nervous action, etc.) in terms of
Time-succession, and he will at once become conscious of the utter
hopelessness of physics, without the hyperphysical idea of force, to
render itself intelligible.[254] What account can be rendered of
planetary motion if the terms "centrifugal force" and "centripetal
force" are abandoned? "From the two great conditions of every Newtonian
solution, viz., projectile impulse and centripetal tendency, eject the
idea of _force_, and what remains? The entire conception is simply made
up of this, and has not the faintest existence without it. It is useless
to give it notice to quit, and pretend that it is gone when you have
only put a new name upon the door. We must not call it 'attraction,'
lest there should seem to be a _power_ within; we are to speak of it
only as 'gravitation,' because that is only 'weight,' which is nothing
but a 'fact,' as if it were not a fact that holds a power, a true
dynamic affair, which no imagination can chop into incoherent
successions.[255] Nor is the evasion more successful when we try the
phrase, 'tendency of bodies to mutual approach.' The approach itself may
be called a phenomenon; but the 'tendency' is no phenomenon, and can not
be attributed by us to the bodies without regarding them as the
residence of force. And what are we to say of the _projectile impulse_
in the case of the planets? Is that also a phenomenon? Who witnessed and
reported it? Is it not evident that the whole scheme of physical
astronomy is a resolution of observed facts into dynamic equivalents,
and that the hypothesis posits for its calculations not phenomena, but
proper forces? Its logic is this: _If_ an impulse of certain intensity
were given, and _if_ such and such mutual attractions were constantly
present, then the sort of motions which we observe in the bodies of our
system _would follow_. So, however, they also would _if_ willed by an
Omnipotent Intelligence."[256] It is thus clearly evident that human
science is unable to offer any explanation of the existing order of the
universe except in terms expressive of Power or Force; that, in fact,
all explanations are utterly unintelligible without the idea of
causation. The language of universal rational intuition is, "all
phenomena are the expression of power;" the language of science is,
"every law implies a force."

[Footnote 254: See Grote's "Essay on Correlation of Physical Forces,"
pp. 18-20; and Martineau's "Essays," p. 135.]

[Footnote 255: "Gravity is a real _power_ of whose agency we have daily
experience."--Herschel, "Outlines of Astronomy," p. 236.]

[Footnote 256: Martineau's "Essays," p. 56.]

It is furthermore worthy of being noted that, in the modern doctrine of
the Correlation and Conservation of Forces, science is inevitably
approaching the idea that all kinds of force are but forms or
manifestations of some _one_ central force issuing from some _one_
fountain-head of power. Dr. Carpenter, perhaps the greatest living
physiologist, teaches that "the form of force _which may be taken as the
type of all the rest_" is the consciousness of living effort in
volition.[257] All force, then, is of one type, and that type is mind;
in its last analysis external causation may be resolved into Divine
energy. Sir John Herschel does not hesitate to say that "it is
reasonable to regard the force of gravitation as the direct or indirect
result of a consciousness or will exerted somewhere."[258] The humble
Christian may, therefore, feel himself amply justified in still
believing that "power belongs to God;" that it is through the Divine
energy "all things are, and are upheld;" and that "in God we live, and
move, and have our being;" he is the Great First Cause, the
Fountain-head of all power.

[Footnote 257: "Human Physiology," p. 542.]

[Footnote 258: "Outlines of Astronomy," p. 234.]

2. _As to Final Causes_--that is, reasons, purposes, or ends _for_ which
things exist--these, we are told by Comte, are all "disproved" by
Positive Science, which rigidly limits us to "the history of _what is_,"
and forbids all inquiry into reasons _why it is_. The question whether
there be any intelligent purpose in the order and arrangement of the
universe, is not a subject of scientific inquiry at all; and whenever it
has been permitted to obtrude itself, it has thrown a false light over
the facts, and led the inquirer astray.

The discoveries of modern astronomy are specially instanced by Comte as
completely overthrowing the notion of any conscious design or
intelligent purpose in the universe. The order and stability of the
solar system are found to be the _necessary_ consequences of
gravitation, and are adequately explained without any reference to
purposes or ends to be fulfilled in the disposition and arrangement of
the heavenly bodies. "With persons unused to the study of the celestial
bodies, though very likely informed on other parts of natural
philosophy, astronomy has still the reputation of being a science
eminently religious, as if the famous words, 'The heavens declare the
glory of God, had lost none of their truth... No science has given more
terrible shocks to the doctrine of _final causes_ than astronomy.[259]
The simple knowledge of the movement of the earth must have destroyed
the original and real foundation of this doctrine--the idea of the
universe subordinated to the earth, and consequently to man. Besides,
the accurate exploration of the solar system could not fail to dispel
that blind and unlimited admiration which the general order of nature
inspires, by showing in the most sensible manner, and in a great number
of different respects, that the orbs were certainly not disposed in the
most advantageous manner, and that science permits us easily to conceive
a better arrangement, by the development of true celestial mechanism,
since Newton. All the theological philosophy, even the most perfect, has
been henceforth deprived of its principal intellectual function, the
most regular order being thus consigned as necessarily established and
maintained in our world, and even in the whole universe, _by the simple
mutual gravity of its several parts_."[260]

The task of "conceiving a better arrangement" of the celestial orbs, and
improving the system of the universe generally, we shall leave to those
who imagine themselves possessed of that omniscience which comprehends
all the facts and relations of the actual universe, and foreknows all
the details and relations of all possible universes so accurately as to
be able to pronounce upon their relative "advantages." The arrogance of
these critics is certainly in startling and ludicrous contrast with the
affected modesty which, on other occasions, restrains them from
"imputing any intentions to nature." It is quite enough for our purpose
to know that the tracing of evidences of _design_ in those parts of
nature accessible to our observation is an essentially different thing
from the construction of a scheme of _optimism_ on _à priori_ grounds
which shall embrace a universe the larger portion of which is virtually
beyond the field of observation. We are conscious of possessing some
rational data and some mental equipment for the former task, but for the
latter we feel utterly incompetent.[261]

[Footnote 259: In a foot-note Comte adds: "Nowadays, to minds
familiarized betimes with the true astronomical philosophy, the heavens
declare no other glory than that of Hipparchus, Kepler, Newton, and all
those who have contributed to the ascertainment of their laws." It seems
remarkable that the great men who _ascertained_ these laws did not see
that the saying of the Psalmist was emptied of all meaning by their
discoveries. No persons seem to have been more willing than these very
men named to ascribe all the glory to Him who _established_ these laws.
Kepler says: "The astronomer, to whom God has given to see more clearly
with his inward eye, from what he has discovered, both can and will
glorify God;" and Newton says: "This beautiful system of sun, planets,
comets could have its origin in no other way than by the purpose and
command of an intelligent and powerful Being. We admire him on account
of his perfections, we venerate and worship him on account of his
government."--Whewell's "Astronomy and Physics," pp. 197, 198.]

[Footnote 260: "Positive Philosophy," vol. ii. pp. 36-38; Tulloch,
"Theism," p. 115.]

[Footnote 261: Chalmers's "Institutes of Theology," vol. i. pp. 117,
118.]

The only plausible argument in the above quotation from Comte is, that
the whole phenomena of the solar system are adequately explained by the
law of gravitation, without the intervention of any intelligent purpose.
Let it be borne in mind that it is a fundamental principle of the
Positive philosophy that all human knowledge is necessarily confined to
phenomena _perceptible to sense_, and that the fast and highest
achievement of human science is to observe and record "the invariable
relations of resemblance and succession among phenomena." We can not
possibly know any thing of even the existence of "causes" or "forces"
lying back of phenomena, nor of "reasons" or "purposes" determining the
relations of phenomena. The "law of gravitation" must, therefore, be
simply the statement of a fact, the expression of an observed order of
phenomena. But the simple statement of a fact is no _explanation_ of the
fact. The formal expression of an observed order of succession among
phenomena is no _explanation_ of that order. For what do we mean by an
explanation? Is it not a "making plain" to the understanding? It is, in
short, a complete answer to the questions _how_ is it so? and _why_ is
it so? Now, if Comte denies to himself and to us all knowledge of
efficient and final causation, if we are in utter ignorance of "forces"
operating in nature, and of "reasons" for which things exist in nature,
he can not answer either question, and consequently nothing is
explained.

Practically, however, Comte regards gravitation as a force. The order of
the solar system has been established and is still maintained by the
mutual gravity of its several parts. We shall not stop here to note the
inconsistency of his denying to us the knowledge of, even the existence
of, force, and yet at the same time assuming to treat gravitation as a
force really adequate to the explanation of the _how_ and _why_ of the
phenomena of the universe, without any reference to a supernatural will
or an intelligent mind. The question with which we are immediately
concerned is whether gravitation _alone_ is adequate to the explanation
of the phenomena of the heavens? A review _in extenso_ of Comte's answer
to this question would lead us into all the inextricable mazes of the
nebular hypothesis, and involve us in a more extended discussion than
our space permits and our limited scientific knowledge justifies. For
the masses of the people the whole question of cosmical development
resolves itself into "a balancing of authorities;" they are not in a
position to verify the reasonings for and against this theory by actual
observation of astral phenomena, and the application of mathematical
calculus; they are, therefore, guided by balancing in their own minds
the statements of the distinguished astronomers who, by the united
suffrages of the scientific world, are regarded as "authorities." For
us, at present, it is enough that the nebular hypothesis is rejected by
some of the greatest astronomers that have lived. We need only mention
the names of Sir William Herschel, Sir John Herschel, Prof. Nichol, Earl
Rosse, Sir David Brewster, and Prof. Whewell.

But if we grant that the nebular hypothesis is entitled to take rank as
an established theory of the development of the solar system, it by no
means proves that the solar system was formed without the intervention
of intelligence and design. On this point we shall content ourselves
with quoting the words of one whose encyclopædian knowledge was
confessedly equal to that of Comte, and who in candor and accuracy was
certainly his superior. Prof. Whewell, in his "Astronomy and Physics,"
says: "This hypothesis by no means proves that the solar system was
formed without the intervention of intelligence and design. It only
transfers our view of the skill exercised and the means employed to
another part of the work; for how came the sun and its atmosphere to
have such materials, such motions, such a constitution, and these
consequences followed from their primordial condition? How came the
parent vapor thus to be capable of coherence, separation, contraction,
solidification? How came the laws of its motion, attraction, repulsion,
condensation, to be so fixed as to lead to a beautiful and harmonious
system in the end? How came it to be neither too fluid nor too
tenacious, to contract neither too quickly nor too slowly for the
successive formation of the several planetary bodies? How came that
substance, which at one time was a luminous vapor, to be at a subsequent
period solids and fluids of many various kinds? What but design and
intelligence prepared and tempered this previously-existing element, so
that it should, by its natural changes, produce such an orderly
system"?[262] "_The laws of motion alone will not produce the regularity
which we admire in the motion of the heavenly bodies_. There must be an
original adjustment of the system on which these laws are to act; a
selection of the arbitrary quantities which they are to involve; a
primitive cause which shall dispose the elements in due relation to each
other, in order that regular recurrence may accompany constant change,
and that perpetual motion may be combined with perpetual
stability."[263]

[Footnote 262: "Astronomy and Physics," p. 109.]

[Footnote 263: Chalmers's "Institutes of Theology," vol. i. p. 119.]

The harmony of the solar system in all its phenomena does not depend
upon the operation of any _one_ law, but from the special adjustment of
several laws. There are certain agents operating throughout the entire
system which have different properties, and which require special
adjustment to each other, in order to their beneficial operation. 1st.
There is _Gravitation,_ prevailing apparently through all space. But it
does not prevail alone. It is a force whose function is to balance other
forces of which we know little, except that these, again, are needed to
balance the force of gravitation. Each force, if left to itself, would
be the destruction of the universe. Were it not for the force of
gravitation, the centrifugal forces which impel the planets would fling
them off into space. Were it not for these centrifugal forces, the force
of gravitation would dash them against the sun. The ultimate fact of
astronomical science, therefore, is not the law of gravitation, but the
_adjustment_ between this law and other laws, so as to produce and
maintain the existing order.[264] 2d. There is _Light_, flowing from
numberless luminaries; and _Heat_, radiating everywhere from the warmer
to the colder regions; and there are a number of adjustments needed in
order to the beneficial operation of these agents. Suppose we grant that
by merely mechanical causes the sun became the centre of our system, how
did it become also the _source of its vivifying influences_? "How was
the fire deposited on this hearth? How was the candle placed on this
candlestick?" 3d. There is an all-pervading _Ether_, through which light
is transmitted, which offers resistance to the movement of the planetary
and cometary bodies, and tends to a dissipation of mechanical energy,
and which needs to be counter-balanced by well-adjusted arrangements to
secure the stability of the solar system. All this balancing of opposite
properties and forces carries our minds upward towards Him who holds the
balances in his hands, and to a Supreme Intelligence on whose
adjustments and collocations the harmony and stability of the universe
depends.[265]

[Footnote 264: Duke of Argyll, "Reign of Law," pp. 91, 92.]

[Footnote 265: M'Cosh, "Typical Forms and Special Ends," ch. xiii.]

The recognition of all teleology of organs in vegetable and animal
physiology is also persistently repudiated by this school. When Cuvier
speaks of the combination of organs in such order as to adapt the animal
to the part which it has to play in nature, Geoffroy Saint Hilaire
replies, "I know nothing of animals which have to play a part in
nature." "I have read, concerning fishes, that, because they live in a
medium which resists more than air, their motive forces are calculated
so as to give them the power of progression under these circumstances.
By this mode of reasoning, you would say of a man who makes use of
crutches, that he was originally destined to the misfortune of having a
leg paralyzed or amputated.[266] "With a modesty which savors of
affectation, he says, "I ascribe no intentions to God, for I mistrust
the feeble powers of my reason. I observe facts merely, and go no
farther. I only pretend to the character of the historian of _what is_."
"I can not make Nature an intelligent being who does nothing in vain,
who acts by the shortest mode, who does all for the best."[267] All the
supposed consorting of means to ends which has hitherto been regarded as
evidencing Intelligence is simply the result of "the elective affinities
of organic elements" and "the differentiation of organs" consequent
mainly upon exterior conditions. "_Functions are a result, not an end_.
The animal undergoes the kind of life that his organs impose, and
submits to the imperfections of his organization. The naturalist studies
the play of his apparatus, and if he has the right of admiring most of
its parts, he has likewise that of showing the imperfection of other
parts, and the practical uselessness of those which fulfill no
functions."[268] And it is further claimed that there are a great many
structures which are clearly useless; that is, they fulfill no purpose
at all. Thus there are monkeys, which have no thumbs for use, but only
rudimental thumb-bones hid beneath the skin; the wingless bird of New
Zealand (Apteryx) has wing-bones similarly developed, which serve no
purpose; young whalebone whales are born with teeth that never cut the
gums, and are afterwards absorbed; and some sheep have horns turned
about their ears which fulfill no end. And inasmuch as there are some
organisms in nature which serve no purpose of utility, it is argued
there is no design in nature; things are _used_ because there are
antecedent conditions favorable for _use_, but that use is not the _end_
for which the organ exists. The true naturalist will never say, "Birds
have wings given them _in order_ to fly;" he will rather say, "Birds fly
_because_ they have wings." The doctrine of final causes must,
therefore, be abandoned.

[Footnote 266: Whewell, "History of Inductive Sciences," vol. ii. p.
486.]

[Footnote 267: Id., ib., vol. ii. p. 490.]

[Footnote 268: Martin's "Organic Unity in Animals and Vegetables," in M.
Q. Review, January, 1863.]

It is hardly worth while to reply to the lame argument of Geoffroy,
which needs a "crutch" for its support. The very illustration,
undignified and irrelevant as it is, tells altogether against its
author. For, first, the crutch is certainly a _contrivance_ designed for
locomotion; secondly, the length and strength and lightness of the
crutch are all matters of calculation and _adjustment_; and, thirdly,
all the adaptations of the crutch are well-considered, in order to
enable the lame man to walk; the function of the crutch is the final
cause of its creation. This crutch is clearly out of place in Geoffroy's
argument, and utterly breaks down. It is in its place in the
teleological argument, and stands well, though it may not behave as well
as the living limb. The understanding of a child can perceive that the
design-argument does not assert that men were intended to have amputated
limbs, but that crutches are designed for those whose limbs are
paralyzed or amputated.

The existence of useless members, of rudimentary and abortive limbs,
does seem, at first sight, to be unfavorable to the idea of supremacy of
purpose and all-pervading design. It should be remarked, however, that
this is an argument based upon our ignorance, and not upon our
knowledge. It does not by any means follow that because we have
discovered no reasons for their existence, therefore there are no
reasons. Science, in enlarging its conquests of nature, is perpetually
discovering the usefulness of arrangements of which our fathers were
ignorant, and the reasons of things which to their minds, were
concealed; and it ill becomes the men who so far "mistrust their own
feeble powers" as to be afraid of ascribing any intention to God or
nature, to dogmatically affirm there is no purpose in the existence of
any thing. And then we may ask, what right have these men to set up the
idea of "utility" as the only standard to which the Creator must
conform? How came they to know that God is a mere "utilitarian;" or, if
they do not believe in God, that nature is a miserable "Benthamite?" Why
may not the idea of beauty, of symmetry, of order, be a standard for the
universe, as much as the idea of utility, or mere subordination to some
practical end? May not conformity to one grand and comprehensive plan,
sweeping over all nature, be perfectly compatible with the adaptation of
individual existences to the fulfillment of special ends? In civil
architecture we have conformity to a general plan; we have embellishment
and ornament, and we have adaptation to a special purpose, all combined;
why may not these all be combined in the architecture of the universe?
The presence of any one of these is sufficient to prove design, for mere
ornament or beauty is itself a purpose, an object, and an end. The
concurrence of all these is an overwhelming evidence of design. Wherever
found, they are universally recognized as the product of intelligence;
they address themselves at once to the intelligence of man, and they
place him in immediate relation to and in deepest sympathy with the
Intelligence which gave them birth. He that formed the eye of man to
see, and the heart of man to admire beauty, shall He not delight in it?
He that gave the hand of man its cunning to create beauty, shall He not
himself work for it? And if man can and does combine both "ornament" and
"use" in one and the same implement or machine, why should not the
Creator of the world do the same? "When the savage carves the handle of
his war-club, the immediate purpose of his carving is to give his own
hand a firmer hold. But any shapeless scratches would be enough for
this. When he carves it in an elaborate pattern, he does so for the love
of ornament, and to satisfy the sense of beauty." And so "the harmonies,
on which all beauty depends, are so connected in nature that _use_ and
_ornament_ may often both arise out of the same conditions."[269]

[Footnote 269: Duke of Argyll, "Reign of Law," p. 203.]

The "true naturalist," therefore, recognizes two great principles
pervading the universe--_a principle of order_--a unity of plan, and _a
principle of special adaptation_, by which each object, though
constructed upon a general plan, is at the same time accommodated to the
place it has to occupy and the purpose it has to serve. In other words,
there is _homology of structure_ and _analogy of function_, conformity
to _archetypal forms_ and _Teleology of organs_, in wonderful
combination. Now, in the Materialistic school, it has been the prevalent
practice to set up the unity of plan in animal structures, in opposition
to the principle of Final Causes: Morphology has been opposed to
Teleology. But in nature there is no such opposition; on the contrary,
there is a beautiful co-ordination. The same bones, in different
animals, are made subservient to the widest possible diversity of
functions. The same limbs are converted into fins, paddles, wings, legs,
and arms. "No comparative anatomist has the slightest hesitation in
admitting that the pectoral fin of a fish, the wing of a bird, the
paddle of the dolphin, the fore-leg of a deer, the wing of a bat, and
the arm of a man, are the same organs, notwithstanding that their forms
are so varied, and the uses to which they are applied so unlike each
other."[270] All these are homologous in structure--they are formed
after an ideal archetype or model, but that model or type is variously
modified to adapt the animal to the sphere of life in which it is
destined to move, and the organ itself to the functions it has to
perform, whether swimming, flying, walking, or burrowing, or that varied
manipulation of which the human hand is capable. These varied
modifications of the vertebrated type, for special purposes, are
unmistakable examples of final causation. Whilst the silent members, the
rudimental limbs instanced by Oken, Martins, and others--as fulfilling
no purpose, and serving no end, exist in conformity to an ideal
archetype on which the bony skeletons of all vertebrated animals are
formed,[271] and which has never been departed from since time began.
This type, or model, or plan, is, however, itself an evidence of
_design_ as much as the plan of a house. For to what standard are we
referring when we say that two limbs are morphologically the same? Is it
not an _ideal_ plan, a _mental_ pattern, a metaphysical conception? Now
an _ideal_ implies a mind which preconceived the idea, and in which
alone it really exists. It is only as "an _order of Divine thought_"
that the doctrine of animal homologies is at all intelligible; and
Homology is, therefore, the science which traces the outward embodiment
of a Divine Idea.[272] The principle of intentionality or final
causation, then, is not in any sense invalidated by the discovery of "a
unity of plan" sweeping through the entire universe.

[Footnote 270: Carpenter's "Comparative Physiology," p. 37.]

[Footnote 271: Agassiz, "Essay on Classification," p. 10.]

[Footnote 272: Whewell's "History of Inductive Sciences," vol. i. p.
644; "The Reign of Law," p. 208; Agassiz, "Essay on Classification," pp.
9-11.]

We conclude that we are justly entitled to regard "the principle of
intentionality" as a primary and necessary law of thought, under which
we can not avoid conceiving and describing the facts of the
universe--_the special adaptation of means to ends necessarily implies
mind_. Whenever and wherever we observe the adaptation of an organism to
the fulfillment of a special end, we can not avoid conceiving of that
_end_ as foreseen and premeditated, the _means_ as selected and adjusted
with a view to that end, and creative energy put forth to secure the
end--all which is the work of intelligence and will.[273] And we can not
describe these facts of nature, so as to render that account
intelligible to other minds, without using such terms as "contrivance,"
"purpose," "adaptation," "design." A striking illustration of this may
be found in Darwin's volume "On the Fertilization of Orchids." We select
from his volume with all the more pleasure because he is one of the
writers who enjoins "caution in ascribing intentions to nature." In one
sentence he says: "The _Labellum_ is developed into a long nectary, _in
order_ to attract _Lepidoptera_; and we shall presently give reasons for
suspecting the nectar is _purposely_ so lodged that it can be sucked
only slowly, _in order_ to give time for the curious chemical quality of
the viscid matter settling hard and dry" (p. 29). Of one particular
structure he says: "This _contrivance_ of the guiding ridges may be
compared to the little instrument sometimes used for guiding a thread
into the eye of a needle." The notion that every organism has a use or
purpose seems to have guided him in his discoveries. "The strange
position of the _Labellum_, perched on the summit of the column, ought
to have shown me that here was the place for experiment. I ought to have
scorned the notion that the _Labellum_ was thus placed _for no good
purpose_. I neglected this plain guide, and for a long time completely
failed to understand the flower" (p. 262).[274]

[Footnote 273: Carpenter's "Principles of Comparative Physiology," p.
723.]

[Footnote 274: Edinburgh Review, October, 1862; article, "The
Supernatural."]

So that the assumption of final causes has not, as Bacon affirms, "led
men astray" and "prejudiced further discovery;" on the contrary, it has
had a large share in every discovery in anatomy and physiology, zoology
and botany. The use of every organ has been discovered by starting from
the assumption _that it must have some use_. The belief in a creative
purpose led Harvey to discover the circulation of the blood. He says:
"When I took notice that the valves in the veins of so many parts of the
body were so placed that they gave a free passage to the blood towards
the heart, but opposed the passage of the venal blood the contrary way,
I was incited to imagine that so provident a cause as Nature has not
placed so many valves _without design_, and no design seemed more
probable than the circulation of the blood."[275] The wonderful
discoveries in Zoology which have immortalized the name of Cuvier were
made under the guidance of this principle. He proceeds on the
supposition not only that animal forms have _some_ plan, _some_ purpose,
but that they have an intelligible plan, a discoverable purpose. At the
outset of his "_Règne Animal_" he says: "Zoology has a principle of
reasoning which is peculiar to it, and which it employs to advantage on
many occasions; that is, the principle of the conditions of existence,
commonly called final causes."[276] The application of this principle
enabled him to understand and arrange the structures of animals with
astonishing clearness and completeness of order; and to restore the
forms of extinct animals which are found in the rocks, in a manner which
excited universal admiration, and has commanded universal assent.
Indeed, as Professor Whewell remarks, at the conclusion of his "History
of the Inductive Sciences," "those who have been discoverers in science
have generally had minds, the disposition of which was to believe in an
_intelligent Maker_ of the universe, and that the scientific
speculations which produced an opposite tendency were generally those
which, though they might deal familiarly with known physical truths, and
conjecture boldly with regard to unknown, do not add to the number of
solid generalizations."[277]

[Footnote 275: "History of Inductive Science," vol. ii. p. 449.]

[Footnote 276: "History of Inductive Science," vol. ii. p. 2, Eng. ed.]

[Footnote 277: Ibid., vol. ii. p. 491. A list of the "great discoverers"
is given in his "Astronomy and Physics," bk. iii. ch. v.]




CHAPTER VII.

THE UNKNOWN GOD (_continued_).

IS GOD COGNIZABLE BY REASON? (_continued_).


      "The faith which can not stand unless buttressed by
      contradictions is built upon the sand. The profoundest faith
      is faith in the unity of truth. If there is found any
      conflict in the results of a right reason, no appeal to
      practical interests, or traditionary authority, or
      intuitional or theological faith, can stay the flood of
      skepticism."--ABBOT.

In the previous chapter we have considered the answers to this question
which are given by the Idealistic and Materialistic schools; it devolves
upon us now to review (iii.) the position of the school of _Natural
Realism_ or _Natural Dualism_, at the head of which stands Sir William
Hamilton.

It is admitted by this school that philosophic knowledge is "the
knowledge of effects as dependent on their causes,"[278] and "of
qualities as inherent in substances."[279]

[Footnote 278: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 58.]

[Footnote 279: Ibid., vol. i. p. 138.]

1. _As to Events and Causes_.--"Events do not occur isolated, apart, by
themselves; they occur and are conceived by us only in connection. Our
observation affords us no example of a phenomenon which is not an
effect; nay, our thought can not even realize to itself the possibility
of a phenomenon without a cause. By the necessity we are under of
thinking some cause for every phenomenon, and by our original ignorance
of what particular causes belong to what particular effects, it is
rendered impossible for us to acquiesce in the mere knowledge of the
fact of the phenomenon; on the contrary, we are determined, we are
necessitated to regard each phenomenon as _only partially known until we
discover the causes_ on which it depends for its existence.[280]
Philosophic knowledge is thus, in its widest acceptation, the knowledge
of effects as dependent on causes. Now what does this imply? In the
first place, as every cause to which we can ascend is only an effect, it
follows that it is the scope, that is, the aim, of philosophy to trace
up the series of effects and causes until we arrive at _causes which are
not in themselves effects_,"[281]--that is, to ultimate and final
causes. And then, finally, "Philosophy, as the knowledge of effects in
their causes, necessarily tends, not towards a plurality of ultimate or
final causes, but towards _one_ alone."[282]

[Footnote 280: Ibid., vol. i. p. 56.]

[Footnote 281: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 58.]

[Footnote 282: Ibid., vol. i. p. 60.]

2. _As to Qualities and Substance, or Phenomena and Reality_.--As
phenomena appear only in conjunction, we are compelled, by the
constitution of our nature, to think them conjoined in and by something;
and as they are phenomena, we can not think them phenomena of nothing,
but must regard them as properties or qualities of something.[283] Now
that which manifests its qualities--in other words, that in which the
appearing causes inhere, that to which they belong--is called their
_subject_, or _substance_, or _substratum_.[284] The subject of one
grand series of phenomena (as, _e.g._, extension, solidity, figure,
etc.) is called _matter_, or _material substance_. The subject of the
other grand series of phenomena (as, _e.g._, thought, feeling, volition,
etc.) is termed _mind_, or _mental substance_. We may, therefore, lay it
down as an undisputed truth that consciousness gives, as an ultimate
fact, a primitive duality--a knowledge of the _ego_ in relation and
contrast to the _non-ego_, and a knowledge of the _non-ego_ in relation
and contrast to the _ego_[285] Natural Dualism thus establishes the
existence of two worlds of _mind_ and _matter_ on the immediate
knowledge we possess of both series of phenomena; whilst the Cosmothetic
Idealists discredit the veracity of consciousness as to our immediate
knowledge of material phenomena, and, consequently, our _immediate
knowledge of the existence of matter_.[286]

[Footnote 283: Ibid., vol. i. p. 137.]

[Footnote 284: Ibid., vol. i. p. 137.]

[Footnote 285: Ibid., vol. i. p. 292.]

[Footnote 286: Ibid., vol. i. pp. 292, 295.]

The obvious doctrine of the above quotations is, that we have an
immediate knowledge of the "_existence_ of matter" as well as of "the
_phenomena_ of matter;" that is, we know "_substance_" as immediately
and directly as we know "_qualities_." Phenomena are known only as
inherent in substance; substance is known only as manifesting its
qualities. We never know qualities without knowing substance, and we can
never know substance without knowing qualities. Both are known in one
concrete act; substance is known quite as much as quality; quality is
known no more than substance. That we have a direct, immediate,
presentative "face to face" knowledge of matter and mind in every act of
consciousness is asserted again and again by Hamilton, in his
"Philosophy of Perception."[287] In the course of the discussion he
starts the question, "_Is the knowledge of mind and matter equally
immediate?_" His answer to this question may be condensed in the
following sentences. In regard to the immediate knowledge of _mind_
there is no difficulty; it is admitted to be direct and immediate. The
problem, therefore, exclusively regards the intuitive perception of the
qualities of _matter_. Now, says Hamilton, "if we interrogate
consciousness concerning the point in question, the response is
categorical and clear. In the simplest act of perception I am conscious
of _myself_ as a perceiving _subject_, and of an external _reality_ as
the object perceived; and I am conscious of both existences in the same
indivisible amount of intuition."[288] Again he says, "I have frequently
asserted that in perception we are conscious of the external object,
immediately and _in itself_." "If, then, the veracity of consciousness
be unconditionally admitted--_if the intuitive knowledge of matter and
mind_, and the consequent reality of their antithesis, be taken as
truths," the doctrine of Natural Realism is established, and, "without
any hypothesis or demonstration, the _reality of mind_ and the _reality
of matter_."[289]

[Footnote 287: Philosophy of Sir William Hamilton, part ii.]

[Footnote 288: Ibid., p. 181.]

[Footnote 289: Ibid., pp. 34, 182.]

Now, after these explicit statements that we have an intuitive knowledge
of matter and mind--a direct and immediate consciousness of self as a
real, "self-subsisting entity," and a knowledge of "an external reality,
immediately and _in itself_," it seems unaccountably strange that
Hamilton should assert "_that all human knowledge, consequently all
human philosophy, is only of the Relative or Phenomenal_;"[290] and that
"_of existence absolutely and in itself we know nothing_."[291] Whilst
teaching that the proper sphere and aim of philosophy is to trace
secondary causes up to ultimate or first causes, and that it
_necessarily tends_ towards one First and Ultimate Cause, he at the same
time asserts that "first causes do not lie within the reach of
philosophy,"[292] and that it can never attain to the knowledge of the
First Cause.[293] "The Infinite God can not, by us, be comprehended,
conceived, or thought."[294] God, as First Cause, as infinite, as
unconditioned, as eternal, is to us absolutely "_The Unknown_." The
science of Real Being--of Being _in se_--of self-subsisting entities, is
declared to be impossible. All science is only of the phenomenal, the
conditioned, the relative. Ontology is a delusive dream. Thus, after
pages of explanations and qualifications, of affirmations and denials,
we find Hamilton virtually assuming the same position as Comte and
Mill--_all human knowledge is necessarily confined to phenomena_.

[Footnote 290: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 136]

[Footnote 291: Ibid., vol. i. p. 138.]

[Footnote 292: Ibid., vol. i. p. 58.]

[Footnote 293: Ibid., vol. i. p. 60.]

[Footnote 294: Ibid., vol. ii. p. 375.]

It has been supposed that the chief glory of Sir William Hamilton rested
upon his able exposition and defense of the doctrine of Natural Realism.
There are, however, indications in his writings that he regarded "the
Philosophy of the Conditioned" as his grand achievement. The Law of the
Conditioned had "not been generalized by any previous philosopher;" and,
in laying down that law, he felt that he had made a new and important
contribution to speculative thought.

The principles upon which this philosophy is based are:

1. _The Relativity of all Human Knowledge._--Existence is not cognized
absolutely and in itself, but only under special modes which are related
to our faculties, and, in fact, determined by these faculties
themselves. All knowledge, therefore, is _relative_--that is, it is of
phenomena only, and of phenomena "under modifications determined by our
own faculties." Now, as the Absolute is that which exists out of all
relation either to phenomena or to our faculties of knowledge, it can
not possibly be _known_.

2. _The Conditionality of all Thinking_.--Thought necessarily supposes
conditions. "To think is to condition; and conditional limitation is the
fundamental law of the possibility of thought. As the eagle can not
out-soar the atmosphere in which he floats, and by which alone he is
supported, so the mind can not transcend the sphere of limitation within
and through which the possibility of thought is realized. Thought is
only of the conditioned, because, as we have said, to think is to
condition."[295] Now the Infinite is the unlimited, the unconditioned,
and as such can not possibly be _thought_.

3. _The notion of the Infinite--the Absolute, as entertained by man, is
a mere "negation of thought._"--By this Hamilton does not mean that the
idea of the Infinite is a negative idea. "The Infinite and the Absolute
are _only_ the names of two counter _imbecilities_ of the human
mind"[296]--that is, a mental inability to conceive an absolute
limitation, or an infinite illimitation; an absolute commencement, or an
infinite non-commencement. In other words, of the absolute and infinite
we have no conception at all, and, consequently, no knowledge.[297]

The grand law which Hamilton generalizes from the above is, "_that the
conceivable is in every relation bounded by the inconceivable_." Or,
again, "The conditioned or the thinkable lies between two extremes or
poles; and these extremes or poles are each of them unconditioned, each
of them inconceivable, each of them exclusive or contradictory of the
other."[298] This is the celebrated "Law of the Conditioned."

[Footnote 295: "Discussions," p. 21.]

[Footnote 296: Ibid., p. 28.]

[Footnote 297: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. ii. pp. 368, 373.]

[Footnote 298: Ibid., vol. ii. p. 373.]

In attempting a brief criticism of "the Philosophy of the Conditioned,"
we may commence by inquiring:

I. _What is the real import and significance of the doctrine "that all
human knowledge is only of the relative or phenomenal_?"

Hamilton calls this "the great axiom" of philosophy. That we may
distinctly comprehend its meaning, and understand its bearing on the
subject under discussion, we must ascertain the sense in which he uses
the words "_phenomenal_" and "_relative._" The importance of an exact
terminology is fully appreciated by our author; and accordingly, in
three Lectures (VIII., IX., X.), he has given a full explication of the
terms most commonly employed in philosophic discussions. Here the word
"_phenomenon_" is set down as the necessary "_correlative_" of the word
"_subject_" or "_substance_." "These terms can not be explained apart,
for each is correlative of the other, each can be comprehended only in
and through its correlative. The term '_subject_' is used to denote the
unknown (?) basis which lies under the various _phenomena_ or properties
of which we become aware, whether in our external or internal
experience."[299] "The term '_relative_' is _opposed_ to the term
'_absolute_;' therefore, in saying that we know only the relative, I
virtually assert that we know nothing absolutely, that is, _in and for
itself, and without relation to us and our faculties_."[300] Now, in the
philosophy of Sir William Hamilton, "the absolute" is defined as "that
which is aloof from relation"--"that which is out of all relation."[301]
The _absolute_ can not, therefore, be "_the correlative_" of the
conditioned--can not stand in any relation to the phenomenal. The
_subject,_ however, is the necessary correlative of the phenomenal, and,
consequently, the subject and the absolute are not identical.
Furthermore, Hamilton tells us the subject _may be comprehended_ in and
through its correlative--the phenomenon; but the absolute, being aloof
from all relation, can not be comprehended or conceived at all. "The
subject" and "the absolute" are, therefore, not synonymous terms; and,
if they are not synonymous, then their antithetical terms, "phenomenal"
and "relative," can not be synonymous.

[Footnote 299: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 148.]

[Footnote 300: Ibid., vol. i. p. 137.]

[Footnote 301: "Discussions," p. 21.]

It is manifest, however, that Hamilton does employ these terms as
synonymous, and this we apprehend is the first false step in his
philosophy of the conditioned. "All our knowledge is of the relative
_or_ phenomenal." Throughout the whole of Lectures VIII. and IX., in
which he explains the doctrine of the relativity of human knowledge,
these terms are used as precisely analogous. Now, in opposition to this,
we maintain that the relative is not always the phenomenal. A thing may
be "in relation" and yet not be a phenomenon. "The subject or substance"
may be, and really is, on the admission of Hamilton himself,
_correlated_ to the phenomenon. The ego, "the conscious _subject_"[302]
as a "_self-subsisting entity_" is necessarily related to the phenomena
of thought, feeling, etc.; but no one would repudiate the idea that the
conscious subject is a mere phenomenon, or "series of phenomena," with
more indignation than Hamilton. Notwithstanding the contradictory
assertion, "that the _subject_ is unknown," he still teaches, with equal
positiveness, "that in every act of perception I am conscious of self,
as a perceiving _subject."_ And still more explicitly he says: "As
clearly as I am conscious of existing, so clearly am I conscious, at
every moment of my existence, that the conscious Ego is not itself a
mere modification [a phenomenon], nor a series of modifications
[phenomena], but that it is itself different from all its modifications,
and a _self-subsisting entity_."[303] Again: "Thought is possible only
in and through the consciousness of Self. The Self, the I, is recognized
in every act of intelligence as the _subject_ to which the act belongs.
It is I that perceive, I that imagine, I that remember, etc.; these
special modes are all only the phenomena of the I."[304] We are,
therefore, conscious of the _subject_ in the most immediate, and direct,
and intuitive manner, and the subject of which we are conscious can not
be "_unknown_." We regret that so distinguished a philosophy should deal
in such palpable contradictions; but it is the inevitable consequence of
violating that fundamental principle of philosophy on which Hamilton so
frequently and earnestly insists, viz., "that the testimony of
consciousness must be accepted in all its integrity".

[Footnote 302: Philosophy of Sir William Hamilton (edited by O.W.
Wight), p. 181.]

[Footnote 303: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 373.]

[Footnote 304: Ibid., vol. i. p. 166.]

It is thus obvious that, with proper qualifications, we may admit _the
relativity of human knowledge_, and yet at the same time reject the
doctrine of Hamilton, _that all human knowledge is only of the
phenomenal_.

"The relativity of human knowledge," like most other phrases into which
the word "relative" enters, is vague, and admits of a variety of
meanings. If by this phrase is meant "that we can not know objects
except as related to our faculties, or as our faculties are related to
them," we accept the statement, but regard it as a mere truism leading
to no consequences, and hardly worth stating in words. It is simply
another way of saying that, in order to an object's being known, it must
come within the range of our intellectual vision, and that we can only
know as much as we are capable of knowing. Or, if by this phrase is
meant "that we can only know things by and through the phenomena they
present," we admit this also, for we can no more know substances apart
from their properties, than we can know qualities apart from the
substances in which they inhere. Substances can be known only in and
through their phenomena. Take away the properties, and the thing has no
longer any existence. Eliminate extension, form, density, etc., from
matter, and what have you left? "The thing in itself," apart from its
qualities, is nothing. Or, again, if by the relativity of knowledge is
meant "that all consciousness, all thought are relative," we accept this
statement also. To conceive, to reflect, to know, is to deal with
difference and relation; the relation of subject and object; the
relation of objects among themselves; the relation of phenomena to
reality, of becoming to being. The reason of man is unquestionably
correlated to that which is beyond phenomena; it is able to apprehend
the necessary relation between phenomena and being, extension and space,
succession and time, event and cause, the finite and the infinite. We
may thus admit the _relative character of human thought_, and at the
same time deny that it is an ontological disqualification.[305]

It is not, however, in any of these precise forms that Hamilton holds
the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge. He assumes a middle place
between Reid and Kant, and endeavors to blend the subjective idealism of
the latter with the realism of the former. "He identifies the
_phenomenon_ of the German with the _quality_ of the British
philosophy,"[306] and asserts, as a regulative law of thought, that the
quality implies the substance, and the phenomenon the noumenon, but
makes the substratum or noumenon (the object in itself) unknown and
unknowable. The "phenomenon" of Kant was, however, something essentially
different from the "quality" of Reid. In the philosophy of Kant,
_phenomenon_ means an object as we envisage or represent it to
ourselves, in opposition to the _noumenon_, or a thing as it is in
itself. The phenomenon is composed, in part, of subjective elements
supplied by the mind itself; as regards intuition, the forms of space
and time; as regards thought, the categories of Quantity, Quality,
Relation, and Modality. To perceive a thing in itself would be to
perceive it neither in space nor in time. To think a thing in itself
would be not to think it under any of the categories. The phenomenal is
thus the product of the inherent laws of our own constitution, and, as
such, is the sum and limit of all our knowledge.[307]

[Footnote 305: Martineau's "Essays," p. 234.]

[Footnote 306: M'Cosh's "Defense of Fundamental Truth," p. 106.]

[Footnote 307: Mansel's "Lectures on the Philosophy of Kant," pp. 21,
22.]

This, in its main features, is evidently the doctrine propounded by
Hamilton. The special modes in which existence is cognizable" are
presented to, and known by, the mind _under modifications determined by
the faculties themselves_."[308] This doctrine he illustrates by the
following supposition: "Suppose the total object of consciousness in
perception is=12; and suppose that the external reality contributes 6,
the material sense 3, and the mind 3; this may enable you to form some
rude conjecture of the nature of the object of perception."[309] The
conclusion at which Hamilton arrives, therefore, is that things are not
known to us as they exist, but simply as they appear, and as our minds
are capable of perceiving them.

[Footnote 308: Hamilton's "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. i. p. 148.]

[Footnote 309: Hamilton's "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. ii. p. 129;
and also vol. i. p. 147.]

Let us test the validity of this majestic deliverance. No man is
justified in making this assertion unless, 1. He knows things as they
exist; 2. He knows things not only as they exist but as they appear; 3.
He is able to compare things as they exist with the same things as they
appear. Now, inasmuch as Sir William Hamilton affirms we do not know
things as they exist, but only as they appear, how can he know that
there is any difference between things as they exist and as they appear?
What is this "_thing in itself_" about which Hamilton has so much to
say, and yet about which he professes to know nothing? We readily
understand what is meant by the _thing_; it is the object as existing--a
substance manifesting certain characteristic qualities. But what is
meant by _in itself_? There can be no _in itself_ besides or beyond the
_thing_. If Hamilton means that "the thing itself" is the thing apart
from all relation, and devoid of all properties or qualities, we do not
acknowledge any such thing. A thing apart from all relation, and devoid
of all qualities, is simply pure nothing, if such a solecism may be
permitted. With such a definition of Being _in se_, the logic of Hegel
is invincible, "Being and Nothing are identical."

And now, if "the thing in itself" be, as Hamilton says it is, absolutely
_unknown_, how can he affirm or deny any thing in regard to it? By what
right does he prejudge a hidden reality, and give or refuse its
predicates; as, for example, that it is conditioned or unconditioned, in
relation or aloof from relation, finite or infinite? Is it not plain
that, in declaring a thing in its inmost nature or essence to be
inscrutable, it is assumed to be partially _known_? And it is obvious,
notwithstanding some unguarded expressions to the contrary, that
Hamilton does regard "the thing in itself" as partially known. "The
external reality" is, at least, six elements out of twelve in the "total
object of consciousness."[310] The primary qualities of matter are known
as in the things themselves; "they develop themselves with rigid
necessity out of the simple datum of _substance occupying space_."[311]
"The Primary Qualities are apprehended as they are in bodies"--"they are
the attributes of _body as body_," and as such "are known immediately in
themselves,"[312] as well as mediately by their effects upon us. So that
we not only know by direct consciousness certain properties of things as
they exist in things themselves, but we can also deduce them in an _à
priori_ manner. "The bare notion of matter being given, the Primary
Qualities may be deduced _à priori_; they being, in fact, only
evolutions of the conditions which that notion necessarily implies." If,
then, we know the qualities of things as "in the things themselves,"
"the things themselves" must also be, at least, partially known; and
Hamilton can not consistently assert the relativity of _all_ knowledge.
Even if it be granted that our cognitions of objects are only in part
dependent on the objects themselves, and in part on elements superadded
by our organism, or by our minds, it can not warrant the assertion that
all our knowledge, but only the part so added, is relative. "The
admixture of the relative element not only does not take away the
absolute character of the remainder, but does not even (if our author is
right) prevent us from recognizing it. The confusion, according to him,
is not inextricable. It is for us 'to analyze and distinguish what
elements,' in an 'act of knowledge,' are contributed by the object, and
what by the organs or by the mind."[313]

[Footnote 310: "Lectures on Metaphysics," vol. ii. p. 129.]

[Footnote 311: Philosophy of Sir Wm. Hamilton, p. 357]

[Footnote 312: Ibid., pp. 377, 378.]

[Footnote 313: Mill's "Examination of Hamilton's Philosophy," vol. i. p.
44.]

Admitting the relative character of human thought as a psychological
fact, Mr. Martineau has conclusively shown that this law, instead of
visiting us with disability to transcend phenomena, _operates as a
revelation of what exists beyond_. "The finite body cut out before our
visual perception, or embraced by the hands, lies as an island in the
emptiness around, and without comparative reference to this can not be
represented: the same experience which gives us the definite object
gives us also the infinite space; and both terms--the limited appearance
and the unlimited ground--are apprehended with equal certitude and
clearness, and furnished with names equally susceptible of distinct use
in predication and reasoning. The transient successions, for instance,
the strokes of a clock, which we count, present themselves to us as
dotted out upon a line of permanent duration; of which, without them, we
should have no apprehension, but which as their condition, is
unreservedly known."[314]

"What we have said with regard to space and time applies equally tο the
case of Causation. Here, too, the finite offered to perception
introduces to an Infinite supplied by thought. As a definite body
reveals also the space around, and an interrupted succession exhibits
the uniform time beneath, so does the passing phenomenon demand for
itself a power beneath. The space, and time, and power, not being part
of the thing perceived, but its conditions, are guaranteed to us,
therefore, on the warrant, not of sense, but of intellect."[315]

"We conclude, then, on reviewing these examples of Space, and Time, and
Causation, that ontological ideas introducing us to certain fixed
entities belong no less to our knowledge than scientific ideas of
phenomenal disposition and succession."[316] In these instances of
relation between a phenomenon given in perception and an entity as a
logical condition, the correlatives are on a perfect equality of
intellectual validity, and the relative character of human thought is
not an ontological disqualification, but a cognitive power.

[Footnote 314: "Essays," pp. 193,194.]

[Footnote 315: Ibid., p. 197.]

[Footnote 316: Ibid., p. 195.]

There is a thread of fallacy running through the whole of Hamilton's
reasonings, consequent upon a false definition of the Absolute at the
outset. The Absolute is defined as _that which exists in and by itself,
aloof from and out of all relation_. An absolute, as thus defined, does
not and can not exist; it is a pure abstraction, and, in fact, a pure
non-entity. "The Absolute expresses perfect independence both in being
and in action, and is applicable to God as self-existent."[317] It may
mean the absence of all _necessary_ relation, but it does not mean the
absence of _all_ relation. If God can not _voluntarily_ call a finite
existence into being, and thus stand in the relation of cause, He is
certainly under the severest limitation. But surely that is not a limit
which substitutes choice for necessity. To be unable to know God out of
all relation--that is, apart from his attributes, apart from his created
universe, is not felt by us to be any privation at all. A God without
attributes, and out of all relations, is for us no God at all. God as a
being of unlimited perfection, as infinitely wise and good, as the
unconditioned cause of all finite being, and, consequently, as
voluntarily related to nature and humanity, we can and do know; this is
the living and true God. The God of a false philosophy is not the true
God; the pure abstractions of Hegel and Hamilton are negations, and not
realities.

2. We proceed to consider the second fundamental principle of Hamilton's
philosophy of the conditioned, viz., that "conditional limitation is the
fundamental law of the possibility of thought," and that thought
necessarily imposes conditions on its object.

"Thought," says Hamilton, "can not transcend consciousness:
consciousness is only possible under the antithesis of a subject and an
object known only in correlation, and _mutually limiting each
other_"[318] Thought necessarily supposes conditions; "to think is
simply to condition," that is, to predicate limits; and as the infinite
is the unlimited, it can not be thought. The very attempt to think the
infinite renders it finite; therefore there can be no infinite _in
thought_, and, consequently, the infinite can not be known.

[Footnote 317: Calderwood's "Philosophy of the Infinite," p. 179.]

[Footnote 318: "Discussions," p. 21.]

If by "the infinite in thought" is here meant the infinite compassed or
contained in thought, we readily grant that the finite can not contain
the infinite; it is a simple truism which no one has ever been so
foolish as to deny. Even Cousin is not so unwise as to assert the
absolutely comprehensibility of God. "In order absolutely to comprehend
the Infinite, it is necessary to have an infinite power of
comprehension, and this is not granted to us."[319] A finite mind can
not have "an infinite thought." But it by no means follows that, because
we can not have infinite thought, we can have no clear and definite
thought of or concerning the Infinite. We have a precise and definite
idea of infinitude; we can define the idea; we can set it apart without
danger of being confounded with another, and we can reason concerning
it. There is nothing we more certainly and intuitively know than that
space is infinite, and yet we can not comprehend or grasp within the
compass of our thought the infinite space. We can not form an _image_ of
infinite space, can not traverse it in perception, or represent it by
any combination of numbers; but we can have the _thought_ of it as an
idea of Reason, and can argue concerning it with precision and
accuracy.[320] Hamilton has an idea of the Infinite; he defines it; he
reasons concerning it; he says "we must believe in the infinity of God."
But how can he define the Infinite unless he possesses some knowledge,
however limited, of the infinite Being? How can he believe in the
infinity of God if he has no definite idea of infinitude? He can not
reason about, can not affirm or deny any thing concerning, that of which
he knows absolutely nothing.

[Footnote 319: "Lectures on History of Philosophy," vol. i. p. 104.]

[Footnote 320: "To form an _image_ of any infinitude--be it of time or
space [or power]; to go mentally through it by successive steps of
representation--is indeed impossible; not less so than to traverse it in
our finite perception and experience. But to have the _thought_ of it as
an idea of the reason, not of the phantasy, and assign that thought a
constituent place in valid beliefs and consistent reasonings, appears to
us as not only possible, but inevitable."--Martineau's "Essays," p.
205.]

The grand logical barrier which Hamilton perpetually interposes to all
possible cognition of God _as infinite_ is, that to think is to
condition--to limit; and as the Infinite is the unconditioned, the
unlimited, therefore "the Infinite can not be _thought_." We grant at
once that all human thought is limited and finite, but, at the same
time, we emphatically deny that the limitation of our thought imposes
any conditions or limits upon the object of thought. No such affirmation
can be consistently made, except on the Hegelian hypothesis that
"Thought and Being are identical;" and this is a maxim which Hamilton
himself repudiates. Our thought does not create, neither does it impose
conditions upon, any thing.

There is a lurking sophism in the whole phraseology of Hamilton in
regard to this subject. He is perpetually talking about "thinking a
thing"--"thinking the Infinite." Now we do not think a thing, but we
think _of_ or _concerning_ a thing. We do not think a man, neither does
our thought impose any conditions upon the man, so that he must be as
our thought conceives or represents him; but our thought is of the man,
concerning or about the man, and is only so far true and valid as it
conforms to the objective reality. And so we do not "think the
Infinite;" that is, our thought neither contains nor conditions the
Infinite Being, but our thoughts are _about_ the Infinite One; and if we
do not think of Him as a being of infinite perfection, our thought is
neither worthy, nor just, nor true.[321]

[Footnote 321: Calderwood's "Philosophy of the Infinite," pp. 255, 256.]

But we are told the law of all thought and of all being is
determination; consequently, negation of some quality or some
potentiality; whereas the Infinite is "_the One and the All_" (τὸ Ἕν καὶ
Πῦν),[322] or, as Dr. Mansel, the disciple and annotator of Hamilton,
affirms, "the sum of all reality," and "the sum of all possible modes of
being."[323] The Infinite, as thus defined, must include in itself all
being, and all modes of being, actual and possible, not even excepting
evil. And this, let it be observed, Dr. Mansel has the hardihood to
affirm. "If the Absolute and the Infinite is an object of human
conception at all, this, and none other, is the conception
required."[324] "The Infinite Whole," as thus defined, can not be
thought, and therefore it is argued the Infinite God can not be known.
Such a doctrine shocks our moral sense, and we shrink from the thought
of an Infinite which includes evil. There is certainly a moral
impropriety, if not a logical impossibility, in such a conception of
God.

[Footnote 322: Hamilton's "Lectures on Metaphysics," Appendix, vol. ii.
p. 531.]

[Footnote 323: "Limits of Religious Thought," p. 76.]

[Footnote 324: Ibid.]

The fallacy of this reasoning consists in confounding a _supposed_
Quantitative Infinite with _the_ Qualitative Infinite--the totality of
existence with the infinitely perfect One. "Qualitative infinity is a
secondary predicate; that is, the attribute of an attribute, and is
expressed by the adverb _infinitely_ rather than the adjective
_infinite_. For instance, it is a strict use of language to say, that
space is infinite, but it is an elliptical use of language to say, God
is infinite. Precision of language would require us to say, God is
infinitely good, wise, and great; or God is good, and his goodness is
infinite. The distinction may seem trivial, but it is based upon an
important difference between the infinity of space and time on the one
hand, and the infinity of God on the other. Neither philosophy nor
theology can afford to disregard the difference. Quantitative Infinity
is illimitation by _quantity_. Qualitative Infinity is illimitation by
_degree_. Quantity and degree alike imply finitude, and are categories
of the finite alone. The danger of arguing from the former kind of
infinitude to the latter can not be overstated. God alone possesses
Qualitative Infinity, which is strictly synonymous with _absolute
perfection_; and the neglect of the distinction between this and
Quantitative Infinity, leads irresistibly to pantheistic and
materialistic notions. Spinozism is possible only by the elevation of
'infinite extension' to the dignity of a divine attribute. Dr. Samuel
Clarke's identification of God's immensity with space has been shown by
Martin to ultimate in Pantheism. From ratiocinations concerning the
incomprehensibility of infinite space and time, Hamilton and Mansel pass
at once to conclusions concerning the incomprehensibility of God. The
inconsequence of all such arguments is absolute; and if philosophy
tolerates the transference of spatial or temporal analogies to the
nature of God, she must reconcile herself to the negation of his
personality and spirituality."[325] An Infinite Being, quite remote from
the notion of _quantity_, may and does exist; which, on the one hand,
does not include finite existence, and, on the other hand, does not
render the finite impossible to thought. Without contradiction they may
coexist, and be correlated.

The thought will have already suggested itself to the mind of the reader
that for Hamilton to assert that the Infinite, as thus defined (the One
and the All), is absolutely unknown, is certainly the greatest
absurdity, for in that case nothing can be known. This Infinite must be
at least partially known, or all human knowledge is reduced to zero. To
the all-inclusive Infinite every thing affirmative belongs, not only to
be, but to be known. To claim it for being, yet deny it to thought, is
thus impossible. The Infinite, which includes all real existence, is
certainly possible to cognition.

The whole argument as regards the conditionating nature of all thought
is condensed into four words by Spinoza--"_Omnis determinatio est
negatio_;" all determination is negation. Nothing can be more arbitrary
or more fallacious than this principle. It arises from the confusion of
two things essentially different--_the limits of a being_, and _its
determinate and distinguishing characteristics_. The limit of a being is
its imperfection; the determination of a being is its perfection. The
less a thing is determined, the more it sinks in the scale of being; the
most determinate being is the most perfect being. "In this sense God is
the only being absolutely determined. For there must be something
indetermined in all finite beings, since they have all imperfect powers
which tend towards their development after an indefinite manner. God
alone, the complete Being in whom all powers are actualized, escapes by
His own perfection from all progress, and development, and
indetermination."[326]

[Footnote 325: North American Review, October, 1864, article, "The
Conditioned and the Unconditioned," pp. 422, 423. See also Young's
"Province of Reason," p. 72; and Calderwood's "Philosophy of the
Infinite," p. 183.]

[Footnote 326: Saisset, "Modern Pantheism," vol. ii. p. 71.]

All real being must be determined; only pure Nothing can be
undetermined. _Determination_ is, however, one thing; and _limitation_
is essentially another thing. "Even space and time, though cognized
solely by negative characteristics, are determined in so far as
differentiated from the existences they contain; but this
differentiation involves no limitation of their infinity." If all
distinction is determination, and if all determination is negation, that
is (as here used), limitation, then the infinite, as distinguished from
the finite, loses its own infinity, and either becomes identical with
the finite, or else vanishes into pure nothing. If Hamilton will persist
in affirming that all determination is limitation, he has no other
alternatives but to accept the doctrine of Absolute Nihilism, or of
Absolute Identity. If the Absolute is the indeterminate--that is, no
attributes, no consciousness, no relations--it is pure non-being. If the
Infinite is "the One and All," then there is but one substance, one
absolute entity.

Herbert Spencer professes to be carrying out, a step farther, the
doctrine put into shape by Hamilton and Mansel, viz., "the philosophy of
the Unconditioned." In other words, he carries that doctrine forward to
its rigidly logical consequences, and utters the last word which
Hamilton and Mansel dare not utter--"Apprehensible by us there is no
God." The Ultimate Reality is absolutely unknown; it can not be
apprehended by the human intellect, and it can not present itself to the
intellect at all. This Ultimate Reality can not be _intelligent_,
because to think is to condition, and the Absolute is the unconditioned;
can not be _conscious_, because all consciousness is of plurality and
difference, and the Absolute is one; can not be _personal_, because
personality is determination or limitation, and the Infinite is the
illimitable. It is "audacious," "irreverent," "impious," to apply any of
these predicates to it; to regard it as Mind, or speak of it as
Righteous.[327] The ultimate goal of the philosophy of the Unconditioned
is a purely subjective Atheism.

[Footnote 327: "First Principles," pp. 111, 112.]

And yet of this Primary Existence--inscrutable, and absolutely
unknown--Spencer knows something; knows as much as he pleases to know.
He knows that this "ultimate of ultimates is _Force_,"[328] an
"_Omnipresent Power_,"[329] is "_One_" and "_Eternal_."[330] He knows
also that it can not be intelligent, self-conscious, and a
personality.[331] This is a great deal to affirm and deny of an
existence "absolutely unknown." May we not be permitted to affirm of
this hidden and unknown something that it is _conscious Mind_,
especially as Mind is admitted to be the only analogon of Power; and
"the _force_ by which we produce change, and which serves to symbolize
the causes of changes in general, is the final disclosure of
analysis."[332]

[Footnote 328: "First Principles," p. 235.]

[Footnote 329: Ibid., p. 99.]

[Footnote 330: Ibid., p. 81.]

[Footnote 331: Ibid., pp. 108-112.]

[Footnote 332: Ibid., p. 235.]

3. We advance to the review of the third fundamental principle of
Hamilton's philosophy of the Unconditioned, viz., that the terms
infinite and absolute are names for a "mere negation of thought"--a
"mental impotence" to think, or, in other words, the absence of all the
conditions under which thought is possible.

This principle is based upon a distinction between "positive" and
"negative" thought, which is made with an air of wonderful precision and
accuracy in "the Alphabet of Human Thought."[333] "Thinking is
_positive_ when existence is predicated of an object." "Thinking is
_negative_ when existence is not attributed to an object." "Negative
thinking," therefore, is not the thinking of an object as devoid of this
or that particular attribute, but as devoid of all attributes, and thus
of all existence; that is, it is "the negation of all
thought"--_nothing_. "When we think a thing, that is done by conceiving
it as possessed of certain modes of being or qualities, _and the sum of
these qualities constitutes its concept or notion_." "When we perform an
act of negative thought, this is done by thinking _something_ as _not_
existing in this or that determinate mode; and when we think it as
existing in no determinate mode, _we cease to think at all--it becomes a
nothing_."[334] Now the Infinite, according to Hamilton, can not be
thought in any determinate mode; therefore we do not think it at all,
and therefore it is for us "a logical Non-entity."

[Footnote 333: "Discussions," Appendix I. p. 567.]

[Footnote 334: "Logic," pp. 54, 55.]

It is barely conceivable that Hamilton might imagine himself possessed
of this singular power of "performing an act of negative thought"--that
is, of thinking and not thinking at once, or of "thinking something"
that "becomes nothing;" we are not conscious of any such power. To think
without an object of thought, or to think of something without any
qualities, or to think "something" which in the act of thought melts
away into "nothing," is an absurdity and a contradiction. We can not
think about nothing. All thought must have an object, and every object
must have some predicate. Even space has some predicates--as
receptivity, unity, and infinity. Thought can only be realized by
thinking something existing, and existing in a determinate manner; and
when we cease to think something having predicates, we cease to think at
all. This is emphatically asserted by Hamilton himself.[335] "Negative
thinking" is, therefore, a meaningless phrase, a contradiction in terms;
it is no thought at all. We are cautioned, however, against regarding
"the negation of thought" as "a negation of all mental ability." It is,
we are told, "an attempt to think, and a failure in the attempt." An
attempt to think about _what_? Surely it must be about some object, and
an object which is _known_ by some sign, else there can be no thought.
Let any one make the attempt to think without something to think about,
and he will find that both the process and the result are blank
nothingness. All thought, therefore, as Calderwood has amply shown, is,
must be, _positive_. "Thought is nothing else than the comparison of
objects known; and as knowledge is always positive, so must our thought
be. All knowledge implies an object _known_; and so all thought involves
an object about which we think, and must, therefore, be positive--that
is, it must embrace within itself the conception of certain qualities as
belonging to the object."[336]

[Footnote 335: "Logic," p. 55.]

[Footnote 336: "Philosophy of the Infinite," p. 272.]

The conclusion of Hamilton's reasoning in regard to "negative thinking"
is, that we can form no notion of the Infinite Being. We have no
positive idea of such a Being. We can think of him only by "the thinking
away of every characteristic" which can be conceived, and thus "ceasing
to think at all." We can only form a "negative concept," which, we are
told, "is in fact no concept at all." We can form only a "negative
notion," which, we are informed, "is only the negation of a notion."
This is the impenetrable abyss of total gloom and emptiness into which
the philosophy of the conditions leads us at last.[337]

[Footnote 337: Whilst Spencer accepts the general doctrine of Hamilton,
that the Ultimate Reality is inscrutable, he argues earnestly against
his assertion that the Absolute is a "mere negation of thought."

"Every one of the arguments by which the relativity of our knowledge is
demonstrated distinctly postulates the _positive existence_ of something
beyond the relative. To say we can not know the Absolute is, by
implication, to affirm there _is_ an Absolute. In the very denial of our
power to learn _what_ the Absolute is, there lies hidden the assumption
_that_ it is; and the making of this assumption proves that the Absolute
has been present to the mind, not as nothing, but as _something_. And so
with every step in the reasoning by which the doctrine is upheld, the
Noumenon, everywhere named as the antithesis of the Phenomenon, is
throughout thought as actuality. It is rigorously impossible to conceive
that our knowledge is a knowledge of appearances only, without, at the
same time, conceiving a Reality of which these are appearances, for
appearances without reality are unthinkable.

"Truly to represent or realize in thought any one of the propositions of
which the argument consists, the unconditioned must be represented as
_positive_, and not negative. How, then, can it be a legitimate
conclusion from the argument that our consciousness of it is negative?
An argument, the very construction of which assigns to a certain term a
certain meaning, but which ends in showing that this term has no
meaning, is simply an elaborate suicide. Clearly, then, the very
demonstration that a definite consciousness [comprehension] of the
Absolute is impossible, unavoidably presupposes an indefinite
consciousness of it [an apprehension]."--"First Principles," p. 88.]

Still we have the word _infinite_, and we have _the notion_ which the
word expresses. This, at least, is spared to us by Sir William Hamilton.
He who says we have no such notion asks the question _how we have it?_
Here it may be asked, how have we, then, the word infinite? How have we
the notion which this word expresses? The answer to this question is
contained in the distinction of positive and negative thought.

We have a positive concept of a thing when we think of it by the
qualities of which it is the complement. But as the attribution of
qualities is an affirmation, as affirmation and negation are relatives,
and as relatives _are known only in and through each other_, we can not,
therefore, have a _consciousness_ of the affirmation of any quality
without having, at the same time, the _correlative consciousness_ of its
negation. Now the one consciousness is a positive, the other
consciousness is a negative notion; and as all language is the reflex of
thought, the positive and negative notions are expressed by positive and
negative names. Thus it is with the Infinite.[338] Now let us carefully
scrutinize the above deliverance. We are told that "relatives are known
only in and through each other;" that is, such relatives as _finite_ and
_infinite_ are known necessarily in the same act of thought. The
knowledge of one is