The Supernatural in the New Testament

                    Possible, Credible, and Historical

   Or: An Examination of the Validity of Some Recent Objections Against
                   Christianity as a Divine Revelation

                                  By the

                        Rev. Charles A. Row, M.A.

                         Prebendary of St. Paul’s

Author of “The Jesus of the Evangelists,” “The Nature and Extent of Divine
      Inspiration,” “The Moral Teaching of the New Testament,” Etc.

                                  London

                             Frederic Norgate

                                   1875





CONTENTS


Dedication.
Chapter I. Introduction. The Position of the Controversy Between the
Opponents and the Defenders of Christianity.
Chapter II. Definitions of Terms.
Chapter III. The Supernatural Elements Contained in the New Testament: In
What Do They Consist? And What View Do Its Writers Take Respecting Them?
Chapter IV. Miracles, What Do They Prove?
Chapter V. The Antecedent Improbability of Miracles.—The Unknown and
Unknowable God.
Chapter VI. The Objection That Miracles Are Contrary To Reason Considered.
Chapter VII. The Allegation That No Testimony Can Prove The Truth Of A
Supernatural Event.
Chapter VIII. The Objection That The Defenders Of Christianity Assume
Certain Facts The Truth Of Which Can Only Be Known By Revelation, And Then
Reason From Those Facts To The Truth Of The Bible, Considered.
Chapter IX. Demoniacal Miracles—General Considerations.
Chapter X. The Existence And Miracles Of Satan.
Chapter XI. Possession: Is The Theory That It Was Madness Subversive Of
The Historical Value Of The Gospels Or Inconsistent With The Veracity Of
Christ?
Chapter XII. Possession, If An Objective Reality, Neither Incredible Nor
Contrary To The Ascertained Truths Of Mental Science.
Chapter XIII. The Alleged Credulity Of The Followers Of Jesus.
Chapter XIV. The Love Of The Marvellous—Its Bearing On The Value Of
Testimony To Miracles.
Chapter XV. Our Summary Rejection Of Current Supernaturalism Considered In
Its Bearing On The Evidence For Miracles.
Chapter XVI. General Objections To Miracles As Credentials Of A
Revelation.
Chapter XVII. The Historical Evidence On Which The Great Facts Of
Christianity Rest—General Considerations.
Chapter XVIII. The Testimony Of The Church, And Of St. Paul’s Epistles, To
The Facts Of Primitive Christianity. Their Historical Value Considered.
Chapter XIX. The Evidence Furnished By The Epistles To The Facts Of Our
Lord’s Life, And To The Truth Of The Resurrection.
Chapter XX. The Resurrection Of Jesus Christ An Historical Fact.
Chapter XXI. The Historical Value Of The Gospels As Deduced From Previous
Considerations.
Chapter XXII. The Historical Character Of The Gospels As Deduced From
Their Internal Structure.
Footnotes






                               [Cover Art]

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DEDICATION.


To The Committee Of The Christian Evidence Society.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

Having undertaken to compose this work at your request, I beg permission
to dedicate it to you. In doing so I feel that it is a duty which I owe
both to you and to myself that I should state the position which we
respectively occupy with regard to it. Your responsibility is confined to
having requested me to compose a work in refutation of certain principles
now widely disseminated, which impugn the supernatural elements contained
in the New Testament. For the contents of the work and for the mode of
treatment I alone am responsible. When I considered the position of the
present controversy, I felt that it was impossible to treat the subject
satisfactorily except on the principle that the responsibility for the
mode of conducting the argument and of answering the objections should
rest with the writer alone. In dealing with a subject so complicated,
involving as it does questions of philosophy and science as well as the
principles of historical criticism, I can scarcely venture to hope that
every position which I have taken will prove acceptable to all the various
shades of theological thought. I have endeavoured to take such as seemed
to me to be logically defensible without any reference to particular
schools of theological opinion. As the entire question is essentially
historical, I have done my utmost to exclude from it all discussions that
are strictly theological. Modern unbelief however puts in two objections
which if valid render all historical evidence in proof of the occurrence
of miracles nugatory, namely that they are both impossible and incredible.
In meeting these I have been compelled to appeal to what appear to me to
be the principles of a sound philosophy. In all other respects I have
viewed the question before me as exclusively one of historical evidence.

If the Resurrection of our Lord is an actual occurrence, it follows that
Christianity must be a divine revelation. If it is not, no amount of other
evidence will avail to prove it to be so. As it has been strongly affirmed
that for this great fact, which constitutes the central position of
Christianity, the historical evidence is worthless, I have devoted the
latter portion of this volume to the consideration of this question, with
a view of putting before the reader the value of the New Testament when
contemplated as simple history. Using the Epistles as the foundation of my
argument, I have endeavoured to prove that the greatest of all the
miracles recorded in the Gospels rests on an attestation that is
unsurpassed by any event recorded in history. For this purpose I have used
the Epistles as simple historical documents, and I have claimed for them
precisely the same value which is conceded to other writings of a similar
description. The feeling among Christians that these writings contain the
great principles of the Christian faith has occasioned it to be overlooked
that they are also contemporary historical documents of the highest order.
As such I have used them in proof of the great facts of Christianity,
above all in proof of the greatest of them, the Resurrection of our Lord.

With these observations I now present you the following work, with the
hope that it may prove the means of removing many of the difficulties with
which recent controversial writers have endeavoured to obscure the
subject. Trusting that it maybe accepted by the great Head of the Church,
the reality of whose life and teaching as they are recorded in the Gospels
it is designed to establish,

I remain, my Lords and Gentlemen,
Your’s faithfully,
C. A. Row.

London, January, 1875.





CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. THE POSITION OF THE CONTROVERSY BETWEEN THE
OPPONENTS AND THE DEFENDERS OF CHRISTIANITY.


Although every portion of the Bible is vehemently assailed by the various
forms of modern Scepticism, it is clear that the real turning point of the
controversy between those who affirm that God has made a supernatural
revelation of himself to mankind, and those who deny it, centres in those
portions of the New Testament which affirm the presence of the
supernatural. The question may be still further narrowed into the inquiry
whether the person and actions of Jesus Christ, as they are depicted in
the Gospels, are historical facts, or fictitious inventions. If the
opponents of Revelation can prove that they are the latter, the entire
controversy will end in their favour. It would in that case be utterly
useless to attempt to defend any other portion of the Bible; and the
controversy respecting the Old Testament becomes a mere waste of labour.
If, on the other hand, Christians can prove that the narratives of the
four Gospels, or even of any one of them, are a true representation of
historical facts, then it is certain that God has made a revelation of
himself, notwithstanding the objections which may be urged against certain
positions which have been taken by Ecclesiastical Christianity, and the
difficulties by which certain questions connected with the Old Testament
are surrounded.

It follows, therefore, that the historical truth of the facts narrated in
the Gospels constitutes the central position of the entire controversy. It
is not my purpose on the present occasion to discuss the general question,
whether the delineation of Jesus Christ which the Gospels contain is one
of an ideal or an historical person. That question I have already
considered in “The Jesus of the Evangelists.” But as the various forms of
modern unbelief are making the most strenuous efforts to prove that the
supernatural elements of the New Testament are hopelessly incredible, and
that the attestation on which the supernatural occurrences mentioned in it
rests, is simply worthless, it is my intention to devote the present
volume to the consideration of this special subject, and to examine the
question of miracles, and their historical credibility.

Modern scepticism makes with respect to supernatural occurrences (under
which more general term I include the miracles of the New Testament), the
three following assertions, and endeavours to substantiate them by every
available argument:

1st. That all supernatural occurrences are impossible.

2nd. That, if not impossible, they are incredible; that is, that they are
contrary to reason.

3rd. That those which are narrated in the New Testament are devoid of any
adequate historical attestation, and owe their origin to the inventive
powers of the mythic and legendary spirit.

It is my purpose, in the course of the present work, to traverse each of
these three positions, and to show:

1st. That miracles and supernatural occurrences are not impossible; and
that the arguments by which this has been attempted to be established are
wholly inconclusive.

2nd. That they are neither incredible, nor contrary to reason; but are
entirely consistent with its dictates.

3rd, That the greatest of all the miracles which are recorded in the New
Testament, and which, if an actual historical occurrence, is sufficient to
carry with it all the others, the resurrection of Jesus Christ, rests on
the highest form of historical testimony.

Such is my position.

A recent writer, who has ably advocated the principles of modern
scepticism, the author of “Supernatural Religion,” has in the opening
passage of his work clearly placed before us the real point at issue. He
states the case as follows:

“On the very threshold of inquiry into the origin and true character of
Christianity we are brought face to face with the supernatural. It is
impossible, without totally setting aside its peculiar and indispensable
claim to be a direct external revelation from God of truths which
otherwise human reason could not have discovered, to treat Ecclesiastical
Christianity as a form of religion developed by the wisdom of man. Not
only in form does it profess to be the result of divine communication, but
in its very essence, in its principal dogmas it is either superhuman or
untenable. There is no question here of mere accessories, which are
comparatively unimportant, and do not necessarily affect the essential
matter, but we have to do with a scheme of religion claiming to be
miraculous in all points, in form, in essence, and in evidence. This
religion cannot be accepted without an emphatic belief in supernatural
interposition, and it is absurd to imagine that its dogmas can be held,
whilst the miraculous is rejected. Those who profess to hold the religion,
whilst they discredit the supernatural element, and they are many at the
present day, have widely receded from Ecclesiastical Christianity. It is
most important that the inseparable connection of the miraculous with the
origin, doctrines, and the evidence of Christianity should be clearly
understood, in order that inquiry may pursue a logical and consistent
course.”—_Supernatural Religion, page 1._(1)

I fully accept all the chief positions laid down in this passage as an
adequate statement of the points at issue between those who affirm and
those who deny that Christianity is a divine revelation. A few minor
points require a slight modification, as incurring the danger of confusing
ideas that ought to be carefully distinguished.

The writer before me also raises no minor issue. Although the work is
entitled “Supernatural Religion, or an inquiry into the reality of divine
revelation,” its object, which is consistently carried out throughout it,
is to impugn the historical character of the Gospels, and to prove that
the supernatural occurrences which are recorded in them are fictitious.
The title of the work might have justified the writer in assailing other
portions of the Bible; but he clearly sees that to adopt this course is
only to attack the outworks of Christianity, and to leave the key of the
entire position unassailed. In doing so he has pursued a far nobler course
than that which has been adopted by many of the opponents of the Christian
faith. He has directed his attack against the very centre of the Christian
position, the historical credibility of the supernatural actions
attributed to Jesus Christ in the Gospels, being well aware that a
successful assault on this position will involve the capture of all the
outworks by which it is supposed to be protected; while it by no means
follows that a successful assault on any of the latter involves the
capture of the citadel itself. This writer does not take up a bye
question, but he goes direct to the foundation on which Christianity
rests. In doing so, it must be acknowledged that he has taken a
straightforward course, and one which must bring the question of the truth
or falsehood of Christianity to a direct issue.

I fully agree with the chief position taken in the quotation before us,
that Christianity involves the presence of the supernatural and the
superhuman, what in fact is generally designated as the miraculous, or it
is nothing. To remove these elements out of the pages of the New
Testament, is not to retain the same religion, but to manufacture another
quite different and distinct from it. In the first place, we have the
great central figure in the Gospels, the divine person of Jesus Christ our
Lord, and the entire body of his actions and his teaching. He, although
depicted as human, is at the same time depicted as superhuman and
supernatural, not merely in his miraculous works, but in his entire
character. To remove the divine lineaments of Jesus Christ out of the
Gospels is simply to destroy them. Besides this, we have a large number of
miraculous actions attributed to him. These are inextricably interwoven
with the entire narrative, which, when they are taken away, loses all
cohesion. Lives of Jesus which have been set forth, deprived of their
supernatural and superhuman elements, are in fact nothing better than a
new Gospel composed out of the subjective consciousness of the writers.
Various attempts have been made to pare down the supernatural and
superhuman elements in the Gospels to the smallest possible dimensions.
Still they obstinately persist in remaining. If everything else is struck
out of the Gospels, except their moral teaching, we are left in the
presence of teaching which is raised at an immense elevation above the
thoughts and conceptions of the age that produced it; and of a teacher,
who while distinguished by the marks of pre‐eminent holiness and greatness
of mind, is also distinguished by a degree of self‐assertion in his
utterances of moral truth, which is without parallel, even among the most
presumptuous of men. Deal with the Gospels as we will, while we allow any
portions of them to remain as historical, we are still in the presence of
the superhuman.

As the narrative now stands it is at least harmonious. The lofty
pretensions of the teacher bear the most intimate correlation to the
supernatural and superhuman facts that are reported of him. The one are
the complement of the other. If the facts are true, the lofty self‐
assertion of the teacher is justified; if they are not true, his
pretensions conflict with the entire conception of his holiness and
elevation of mind. The use which a wide spread school of modern criticism
so freely makes of the critical dissecting knife, for the purpose of
amputating the supernatural from the Gospels, can only be attended by the
fatal termination of destroying the entire Gospels as of the smallest
historical value. It is marvellous that persons who retain any respect for
Christianity as a system of religious and moral teaching, should have
attempted to throw discredit on this element in the Gospels with a view of
saving the remainder.

Nor is the case different with the other portions of the New Testament.
Christianity, as enunciated by its writers, does not profess merely to
teach a new and improved system of morality. If this was its only
pretension, it would certainly have but little claim to be viewed as a
divine revelation. In morals its teaching is both unsystematic and
fragmentary; though it is an unquestionable fact, that a great system of
moral teaching may be deduced from the principles it unfolds. But if one
thing is plainer than another on the face of the New Testament, it is that
the great purpose sought to be effected by Christianity is to impart a new
moral and spiritual power to mankind. It professes to be, not a body of
moral rules, but a mighty moral force, which is concentrated in the person
of its Founder. The acceptance of it had generated a new power or energy,
a moral and spiritual life, which raised those who had embraced it above
their former selves; and which it professes to be able to impart to all
time. This supernatural element, concentrated as I have said that it is in
the person of its founder, runs through the entire epistles, and
constitutes their most distinguishing feature. If the supernatural
elements in the person of Jesus Christ be removed from their teaching
nothing remains but a number of moral precepts robbed of all their
vitality. In one word, the whole system of teaching simply collapses.

In a similar manner, if we eliminate every thing supernatural out of the
New Testament, with a view of arriving at a residuum of truth, we are
brought into immediate contact with the most unique fact in the history of
man, the creation of the Church of Jesus Christ, the greatest institution
which has ever affected the destinies of our race, and which has for
eighteen centuries exerted a most commanding influence on human happiness
and civilization. This is professedly based on a miraculous fact, the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ. If, therefore, we remove the supernatural
elements out of Christianity, this institution, mighty for good in its
influence on the progress of our race, has been based on an unreality and
a delusion. Here again we encounter something which has very much the
appearance of the supernatural.

On these accounts, therefore, I cordially accept the position which is
laid down by the author of “Supernatural Religion” as a correct statement
of the case, that Christianity involves the presence of the Supernatural,
or it is nothing. We must either defend the chief supernatural elements of
the New Testament or abandon it as worthless.

But there is an expression which occurs in this quotation, and which is
frequently made use of in subsequent parts of the work, which requires
consideration, “Ecclesiastical Christianity.” What is intended by it? The
meaning is nowhere defined, and unless we come to a clear understanding
with respect to it, we shall be in danger of complicating the entire
question. The expression is ambiguous. If by it is meant any other form of
thought, than that which is contained in the pages of the New Testament;
if, in fact, by it is intended a systematic arrangement of doctrinal
truth, which has been elaborated at a subsequent period, I emphatically
assert that those who are called upon to defend the divine character of
the Christian Revelation have nothing to do with it. The only thing which
those who maintain that the New Testament contains a divine revelation can
be called on to defend, is the express statements of the book itself, and
not a system of thought which subsequent writers may have attempted to
deduce from it.

This point is so important, that I must make the position which I intend
taking with respect to it clear. It involves the distinction between
revelation and theology. The religious and moral teaching which is
contained in the New Testament is in a very unsystematic form. Not one of
its writings is a formal treatise on theology, nor does one of them
contain a systematised statement of what constitutes Christianity. Its
teaching of religious truth is incidental, and is called forth by the
special circumstances of the writer. The plain fact is that four of the
writings which comprise the New Testament are religions memoirs. One is an
historical account of the foundation of the Church. Twenty‐one are
letters, written to different Churches and individuals, and all called
forth by special emergencies. These all partake of the historical
character. The only one which does not participate in this character is
the Apocalypse, which, being a vision, is utterly unlike a formal or
systematic treatise on Christianity. The result of the form in which the
New Testament is composed is that its definite teaching is always
incidental, called forth to meet special circumstances and occasions in
the history of Churches and individuals, and never formal. It is also
universally couched in popular, as distinct from scientific or technical
language. Not one of its writers makes an attempt to formulate a system of
Christian theology.

The person of Jesus Christ constitutes Christianity in its truest and
highest sense. Three of the Gospels embody the traditionary teaching of
the Church on this subject. The fourth is the work of an independent
writer. The epistles may be received as a set of incidental commentaries
on the person and work of Jesus Christ, called forth by the special
occasions which gave them birth, and embodying the author’s general views
as to his work and teaching as adapted to a number of special
circumstances and occasions.

Between the contents of the New Testament and what is commonly understood
by Ecclesiastical Christianity the difference is extremely wide. The New
Testament contains a divine revelation. Ecclesiastical Christianity is a
body of religious teaching in which Christianity has been attempted to be
presented in a systematised form, or, in other words, it is a theology
more or less complete.

It is necessary that we should have a clear appreciation of the
difference. Theology is an attempt of the human intellect to present to us
the truths communicated in Revelation in a systematised form. It is in
fact the result of the human reason investigating the facts and statements
of Revelation. Theology therefore is a simple creation of human reason
erected on the facts of divine revelation. As such it is subject to all
the errors and imperfections to which our rational powers are obnoxious.
It can claim no infallibility more than any other rational action of the
human mind. Theology is a science, and is subject to the imperfections to
which all other sciences are liable. It stands to the facts of
Christianity in the same relation as philosophy and physical science stand
to the works of nature. In the one the human intellect investigates the
divine revelation contained in the works of nature, and endeavours to
systematise its truths: in the other it does the same with respect to the
divine revelation which in accordance with the assertions of the New
Testament has been made in the person of Jesus Christ.

What I am desirous of drawing attention to is that theology is not
revelation. Systems of theology may be accurate deductions of reason from
Revelation; or they may be inaccurate and imperfect ones. It is very
possible that a system of theology which has been evolved by human reason,
although it may have attained a wide acceptance, may be as inadequate an
explanation of the facts of revelation, as the Ptolemaic system of
astronomy was of the facts of the material universe. Objections which were
raised against the latter were no real objections against the structure of
the universe itself. In the same way objections which may be raised
against a particular system of theology, may leave the great facts of
revelation entirely untouched.

If we look into the history of Christianity, we shall find that as soon as
the Church began to consolidate itself into a distinct community, the
reason of man began to exert itself on the facts of revelation, and to
attempt to reduce its teaching to a systematic form. From this source have
sprung all the various systems of theology which have from time to time
predominated in the Church. It has been a plant of gradual growth, and as
such may bear a fair comparison with the slow growth of philosophy or
physical science. Such an action of reason on the facts of revelation was
inevitable and entirely legitimate. What I am desirous of guarding against
is the idea that when reason is exerted on the facts of revelation, it is
more infallible than when exerted on any other subjects which come under
its cognisance.

I am not ignorant that there is another theory respecting the nature of
theology. A large branch of the Christian Church holds that a body of
dogmatic statements has been handed down traditionally from the Apostles
and other inspired teachers, which has been embodied in the system of
theology which is accepted by this Church, and that this was intended to
be an authoritative statement of the facts of the Christian revelation. It
is also part of the same theory that the Church as a collective body has
in all ages possessed an inspiration, which enables it to affirm
authoritatively and dogmatically, what is and what is not Christian
doctrine, and that which it thus authoritatively affirms to be so, must be
accepted as a portion of the Christian revelation as much as the contents
of the New Testament itself.

I fully admit that those who assume a position of this kind are bound to
act consistently, and to defend every statement in their dogmatic creeds
as an integral portion of Christianity. Nor is it less certain, if this
principle is true, that if any portion of such dogmatic creeds can be
successfully assailed as contrary to reason, as for instance the
formulated doctrine of transubstantiation, it would imperil the position
of Christianity itself. Those, however, who have taken such positions,
must be left to take the consequences of them. It is not my intention in
undertaking to defend the historical truth of the supernatural elements in
the New Testament, to burden myself with an armour which seems only fitted
to crash beneath its weight the person who attempts to use it.

It has been necessary to be explicit on this point, in order that the
argument may be kept free from all adventitious issues. The introduction
into it of the expression, “Ecclesiastical Christianity,” brings with it
no inconsiderable danger of diverting our attention from what is the real
point of controversy. I must therefore repeat it. Ecclesiastical
Christianity is a development made by reason from the facts of the New
Testament, and is a thing which is entirely distinct from the contents of
the New Testament. With its affirmations therefore I have nothing to do in
the present discussion. It will not be my duty to examine into its
positions, with a view of ascertaining whether they are developments of
Christian teaching which can be logically deduced from its pages; still
less to accept and to defend them as authoritative statements of its
meaning. In defending the New Testament as containing a divine revelation,
I have only to do with the contents and assertions of the book itself, and
with nothing outside its pages. What others may have propounded respecting
its meaning can form no legitimate portion of the present controversy. The
real point at issue is one which is simple and distinct. It is, are the
supernatural incidents recorded in it historical events or fictitious
inventions? As that is the question before us, I must decline to allow any
other issue to be substituted in the place of it. Our inquiry is one which
is strictly historical.

Another statement made by the author before me requires qualification. He
says that “Christianity is a scheme of religion which claims to be
miraculous in all points, in form, in essence, and in evidence.” This
statement I must controvert. Christianity does not profess to be divine on
all points. On the contrary, it contains a divine and a human element so
intimately united, that it is impossible to separate the one from the
other. It is also far from clear to me how it can be miraculous in form
when it is contained in a body of historical writings. I shall have
occasion to show hereafter, that although miracles form an important
portion of the attestation on which it rests, they are not the only one.

With these qualifications I fully accept the position taken by this writer
as a correct statement of the points at issue between those who affirm,
and those who deny the claims of Christianity to be a divine revelation,
and accept his challenge to defend the supernatural elements in the New
Testament, or to abandon it as worthless. To maintain that any of its
dogmas can be accepted as true while its miraculous elements are abandoned
seems to me to involve a question which is hopelessly illogical.

Modern unbelief rejects every supernatural occurrence as utterly
incredible. Before proceeding to examine into the grounds of this, it will
be necessary to lay down definitely the bearing of the present argument on
the principles of atheism, pantheism, and theism.

As far as the impossibility of supernatural occurrences is concerned,
pantheism and atheism occupy precisely the same grounds. If either of them
propounds a true theory of the universe, any supernatural occurrence,
which necessarily implies a supernatural agent to bring it about, is
impossible, and the entire controversy as to whether miracles have ever
been actually performed is a foregone conclusion. Modern atheism, while it
does not venture in categorical terms to affirm that no God exists,
definitely asserts that there is no evidence that there is one. It follows
that if there is no evidence that there is a God, there can be no evidence
that a miracle ever has been performed, for the very idea of a miracle
implies the idea of a God to work one. If therefore atheism is true, all
controversy about miracles is useless. They are simply impossible, and to
inquire whether an impossible event has happened is absurd. To such a
person the historical enquiry, as far as a miracle is concerned, must be a
foregone conclusion. It might have a little interest as a matter of
curiosity; but even if the most unequivocal evidence could be adduced that
an occurrence such as we call supernatural had taken place, the utmost
that it could prove would be that some most extraordinary and abnormal
fact had taken place in nature of which we did not know the cause. But to
prove a miracle to any person who consistently denies that he has any
evidence that any being exists which is not a portion of and included in
the material universe, or developed out of it, is impossible.

Nor does the case differ in any material sense with pantheism. When we
have got rid of its hazy mysticism, and applied to it clear principles of
logic, its affirmation is that God and the Universe are one, and that all
past and present forms of existence have been the result of the Universe,
_i.e._ God, everlastingly developing himself in conformity with immutable
law. All things which either have existed or exist are as many
manifestations of God, who is in fact an infinite impersonal Proteus, ever
changing in his outward form. From him, or to speak more correctly, from
it (for he is no person), all things have issued as mere phenomenal
babbles of the passing moment, and by it will be again swallowed up in
never‐ending succession. Such a God must be devoid of everything which we
understand by personality, intelligence, wisdom, volition or a moral
nature. It is evident therefore that to a person who logically and
consistently holds these views the occurrence of a miracle is no less an
impossibility than it is to an atheist, for the conception of a miracle
involves the presence of personality, intelligence, and power at the
disposal of volition. All that the strongest evidence could prove to those
who hold such principles, is that some abnormal event had taken place of
which the cause was unknown.

It is evident, therefore, that the only course which can be pursued with a
professed atheist or pantheist, is to grapple with him on the evidences of
theism, and to endeavour to prove the existence of a God possessed of
personality, intelligence, volition, and adequate power, before we attempt
to deal with the evidences of miracles. Until we have convinced him of
this all our reasonings must be in vain.

There are four modes of reasoning by which the being of a God may be
established. I will simply enumerate them. First, the argument which is
founded on the principle of causation; second, that which rests on the
order of the universe; third, that from its innumerable adaptations;
fourth, that which is derived from the moral nature and personality of
man. If the argument from causation fails to prove to those with whom we
are reasoning that the finite causes in the universe must have a first
cause from whence they have originated; if that from the orderly
arrangements in the universe fails to prove that there must be an
intelligent being who produced them; if its innumerable adaptations fail
to establish the presence of a presiding mind; and if the moral nature of
man fails to prove that must be a moral being from whom that nature
emanated, and of whom it is the image, it follows that the minds must be
so differently constituted as to offer no common ground or basis of
reasoning on this question. The whole involves an essential difference of
principle, which no argumentation can really reach. To attempt to prove to
a mind of this description the occurrence of a miracle, is simply a waste
of labour.

A work, therefore, on the subject of miracles can only be addressed to
theists, because the very conception of a miracle involves the existence
of a personal God. To take this for granted in reasoning with a pantheist
or atheist is simply to assume the point at issue. It is perfectly true,
that a legitimate body of reasoning may be constructed, if the pantheist
or the atheist agrees to assume that a God exists for the purpose of
supplying a basis for the argument. We may then reason with him precisely
in the same way as we would with a theist. But the contest will be with
one who has clad himself in armour which no weapon at our disposal can
penetrate. After the strongest amount of historical evidence has been
adduced, and after all alleged difficulties have been answered, he simply
falls back on his atheism or his pantheism, which assumes that all
supernatural occurrences must be impossible, and therefore that alleged
instances of them are delusions.

This is not unfrequently the case in the present controversy. A
considerable number of objections which are urged against the supernatural
elements of Christianity, derive whatever cogency they possess from the
assumption that there is a God who is the moral Governor of the universe.
These are not unfrequently urged by persons who deny the possibility of
miracles on atheistic or pantheistic grounds. It is perfectly fair to
reason against Christianity on these grounds; it is equally so for a
person who holds these opinions, to attempt to prove that the historical
evidence adduced in proof of the miracles recorded in the New Testament is
worthless as an additional reason why men should cease to believe in them.
But it is not conducive to the interests of truth to urge objections which
have no reality except on the supposition that a God exists who is the
moral Governor of the universe, and then to fall back on reasonings whose
whole force is dependent on the data furnished by pantheism or atheism. I
shall have occasion to notice a remarkable instance of this involved mode
of reasoning hereafter.

I shall now proceed briefly to state the mode in which I propose to treat
the present subject. The point which I have to defend is not any
conceivable body of miracles or their evidential value, but specially the
supernatural occurrences recorded in the New Testament. I must therefore
endeavour to ascertain what is the extent of the supernaturalism asserted
in the New Testament, and what is the degree of evidential value which its
writers claim for it.

It has been asserted by many writers that the sole and only evidence of a
revelation must be a miraculous testimony. Whether this be so or not, this
is not the place to enquire. But in relation to the present controversy
the plain and obvious course is to ask the writers of the New Testament
what is the precise evidential value of the supernatural occurrences which
they have narrated. This is far preferable to falling back on any
assertions of modern writers, however eminent, on this subject. They may
have over‐estimated, or under‐estimated their evidential value. The
writers of the New Testament must be held responsible, not for the
assertions of others, but only for their own. I must therefore carefully
consider what it is that they affirm to be proved by miracles.

One primary objection against the possibility of miracles is founded on
that peculiar form of theoretic belief, which affirms that both
philosophy, science, and religion alike point to the existence of a Cause
of the Universe, which is the source of all the forces which exist, and of
which the various phenomena of the universe are manifestations, and
designates this cause by the name of God. But while it concedes his
existence, it proclaims him to be Unknown and Unknowable. If this position
is correct, the inference seems inevitable, that any thing like a real
revelation of him is impossible. It will be necessary therefore for me to
examine into the validity of this position.

A vast variety of arguments have been adduced both on philosophic grounds
and from the principles established by physical science, for the purpose
of proving that the occurrence of any supernatural event is contrary to
our reason. If this be true, it is a fatal objection against the entire
mass of supernatural occurrences that are recorded in the New Testament.
The most important points of these reasonings will require a careful
consideration.

A very important objection has been urged against the Christian mode of
conducting the argument from miracles. It is alleged that it involves
reasoning in a vicious circle, and that Christian apologists endeavour to
prove the truth of doctrines which utterly transcend reason by miraculous
evidence, and then endeavour to prove the truth of the miracles by the
doctrines. If this allegation is true, it is no doubt a fatal objection to
the argument. I shall endeavour to show that it is founded on a
misapprehension of the entire subject.

An attempt has been made to re‐affirm the validity of Hume’s argument that
no amount of evidence can avail to prove the reality of a miracle unless
the falsehood of the evidence is more miraculous than the alleged miracle.
It will be necessary to consider the validity of the positions which have
been lately assumed respecting it.

A very formidable objection has been urged against the truth of the
supernatural occurrences recorded in the New Testament on the ground that
the followers of Jesus were a prey to a number of the most grotesque
beliefs respecting the action of demons, and that their superstition and
credulity on this point was of so extreme a character as to deprive their
historical testimony, on the subject of the supernatural of all value. As
this objection is not only one which is widely extended, but has been
urged with great force by the author of “Supernatural Religion,” I shall
devote four chapters of this work to the examination of the question of
possession and demoniacal action as far as it affects the present
controversy.

The entire school of modern unbelief found a very considerable portion of
their arguments against the historical character of the Gospels, on the
alleged credulity and superstition of the followers of our Lord. This is
alleged to have been of a most profound character, and it forms the weapon
which is perhaps in most constant use with the assailants of Christianity.
All difficulties which beset their arguments are met by attributing the
most unbounded credulity, superstition and enthusiasm to the followers of
Jesus. It has also been urged that the belief in supernatural occurrences
has been so general, that it renders the attestation of miracles to a
revelation invalid. I purpose examining into the validity of this
objection. As this may be said to be the key of the position occupied by
modern unbelief, I must examine into the reality of the affirmation, and
also how far the love of the marvellous in mankind affects the credit of
the testimony to miracles. This I propose discussing in two distinct
chapters.

It is an unquestionable fact that in these days we summarily reject whole
masses of alleged supernatural occurrences, as utterly incredible, without
inquiry into the testimony on which they rest. It will be necessary to
inquire into the grounds on which we do this, and how far it affects the
credibility of the miracles recorded in the New Testament.

The historical value of the testimony which has been adduced for the truth
of the miracles recorded in the New Testament, has been assailed by every
weapon which criticism can supply. It is affirmed in the strongest manner
that they are utterly devoid of all reliable historical evidence. The
Gospels are pronounced to consist of a bundle of myths and legends, with
only a few grains of historic truth hidden beneath them. They are affirmed
to be late compositions, and that we are utterly devoid of all
contemporaneous attestation for the facts recorded in them, and that the
true account of the origin of Christianity is buried beneath a mass of
fiction. If this be true, there cannot be a doubt that it is a most
serious allegation, which affects the entire Christian position. It is
further urged that while the defenders of Christianity publish works in
which they attempt to prove that miracles are possible and credible, they
carefully avoid grappling with the real point of the whole question by
showing that any historical evidence can be produced for a single miracle
recorded in the Gospels, which will stand the test of such historical
criticism, and it is loudly proclaimed that no real evidence can be made
forthcoming. Such a charge as this, it is impossible to pass over in
silence.

I propose, therefore, to examine into the general truth of these
allegations, and to consider the nature of the historical evidence which
unbelief, after it has exhausted all its powers of criticism, still leaves
us unquestionably in possession of.

This consists of the epistles of the New Testament viewed as historical
documents. Their value as such has been greatly overlooked by both sides
to the controversy, especially by the Christian side. Christians have been
in the habit of viewing them as inspired compositions, and have studied
them almost exclusively on account of the doctrinal and moral teaching
which they contain, and each sect has viewed them as a kind of armoury
from which to draw weapons for the establishing its own particular
opinions. In doing this they have forgotten that they are also historical
documents of the highest order, the great majority of which even the
opponents of Christianity concede to have been composed prior to the
conclusion of the first century of the Christian era, and many of them at
a much earlier period.

Of these writings four are universally admitted to be genuine, and to have
been composed prior to the year 60 of our era. Four more are genuine
beyond all reasonable doubt, and of two more the evidence in favour of
their authenticity is very strong. The Apocalypse, which is also admitted
to be genuine, although not strictly an historical document, can be
rendered valuable for the purposes of history. Of the remaining writings
the genuineness is disputed; but whether genuine or not, it is impossible
to deny their antiquity, and that they are faithful representations of the
ideas of those who wrote them. In fact the names of their authors are of
no great importance in the present controversy, when the writings
themselves bear so decisively the marks of originality. Thus the epistle
of James, by whomsoever written, bears the most unquestionable marks of
the most primitive antiquity. It is in fact a document of the earliest
form of Christianity,—in one word, the Jewish form, before the Church was
finally separated from the synagogue.

Such are our historical materials. Little justice has been done to their
value in the writings of Christian apologists. As included in the Canon of
the New Testament, it has been for the most part the practice to view them
as standing in need of defence, rather than as being the mainstay of the
argument for historical Christianity, and constituting its central
position.

It will be admitted that it will be impossible for me to do full justice
to such a subject in a work like the present. To bring out all the
treasures of evidence respecting primitive Christianity, and the
foundation of the Christian Church which these writings contain, the whole
subject would require to be unfolded in a distinct and separate treatise
exclusively devoted to the subject. Still, however, this work would be
very incomplete if I did not accept the challenge so boldly thrown down to
us, and show that Christianity rests on an historical attestation of the
highest order. To this I propose devoting the six concluding chapters of
this work.

I intend, therefore, in the first place to examine the value of the
historical documents of the New Testament, and show that several of the
epistles take rank as the highest form of historical documents, and
present us with what is to all intents and purposes a large mass of
contemporaneous evidence as to the primitive beliefs, and the original
foundation of the Christian Church. In doing so I propose to treat them in
the same manner as all other similar historical documents are treated.

I shall then show that these documents afford a substantial testimony to
all the great facts of Christianity, and especially to the existence of
miraculous powers in the Church, and that the various Churches were from
the very earliest period in possession of an oral account of the actions
and teachings of Jesus Christ substantially the same as that which is now
embodied in the Gospels; and that this oral Gospel was habitually used for
the purposes of instruction. Further, that this oral Gospel was a
substantial embodiment of the beliefs of the primitive followers of Jesus,
and that the Church as a community was a body especially adapted for
handing down correctly the account of the primitive beliefs respecting its
origin, and that the peculiar position in which it was placed compelled it
to do so.

I shall further show on the evidence furnished by those epistles, the
genuineness of which unbelievers do not dispute, that from the earliest
commencement of Christianity the whole body of believers, without
distinction of sect or party, believed in the resurrection of Jesus Christ
as a fact, and viewed it not only as the groundwork on which Christianity
rested, but as the one sole and only reason for the existence of the
Christian Church. I shall be able also to prove on the same evidence that
a considerable number of the followers of Jesus were persuaded that they
had seen him alive after his crucifixion, and that his appearance was an
actual resurrection from the dead. The same writings prove to
demonstration that this was the universal belief of the whole Christian
community, and that the Church was established on its basis.

These things being established as the basis for my reasonings, I shall
proceed to prove that it is impossible that these beliefs of the Church
could have owed their origin to any possible form of delusion; but that
the resurrection of Jesus Christ was an historical fact, and that no other
supposition can give an adequate account of the phenomenon.

Having proved that the greatest of all the miracles which are recorded in
the Gospels is an historical fact, I have got rid of the _à priori_
difficulty with which the acceptance of the Gospels as genuine historical
accounts is attended; but further, if it is an historical fact that Jesus
Christ really rose from the dead, it is in the highest degree probable
that other supernatural occurrences would be connected with his person. I
shall therefore proceed to restore the Gospels to their place as history,
and to show that even on the principles of the opponents of Christianity,
they have every claim to be accepted as true accounts of the action and
teaching of Jesus Christ as it was transmitted by the different Churches,
partly in an oral, and partly in a written form. I shall also show that
even if they were composed at the late dates which are assigned to them by
opponents, they were yet written within the period which is strictly
historical, while tradition was fresh and reminiscences vivid, and long
before it was possible that a great mass of facts which must have formed
the basis of the existence of the Christian Church could have been
superseded by a number of mythic and legendary creations. Having placed
these facts on a firm foundation, I shall proceed to consider their
accounts of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, and to estimate its
historical nature.

The proof that the greatest miracle recorded in the Gospels, the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ, is an event which has really occurred,
places the remainder of them in point of credibility in the same position
as the facts of ordinary history; and they must be accepted and regarded
in conformity with the usual methods of testing evidence.





CHAPTER II. DEFINITIONS OF TERMS.


Nothing has more contributed to import an almost hopeless confusion of
thought into the entire controversy about miracles than the ambiguous
senses in which the most important terms connected with it have been
employed, both by theologians and men of science, by the defenders of
revelation as well as by its opponents. Of these terms the words “nature,”
“natural”, “law,” “force,” “supernatural,” “superhuman,” “miracle,” and
“miraculous,” are the most conspicuous. It is quite clear that unless we
use these terms in a definite and uniform sense, we shall be fighting the
air. The neglect to do so has thrown the greatest obscurity over the
entire subject. This vague and uncertain use of them is not confined to
writers on theological subjects, but is diffused over a large number of
scientific works. My object in the present chapter will be, not to lay
down strictly accurate definitions of all the terms used in the
controversy (for this in the present state of thought on the subject is
hardly possible) but to endeavour to assign a definite meaning to those
which it will be necessary for me to employ, and to draw attention to some
of the fallacies which a vague use of language has introduced.

First: No terms are more frequently used in this controversy than the
words “nature” and “natural.” They are constantly used as if their meaning
was definite and invariable. Nothing is more common than to use the
expression “laws of nature,” and to speak of miracles as involving
contradictions, violations, and suspensions of the laws and order of
nature, as though there was no danger of our falling into fallacies of
reasoning by classing wholly different orders of phenomena under a common
name.

What do we mean by the terms “nature” and “natural”? It is evident that no
satisfactory result can come from reasonings on this subject, unless the
parties to the discussion agree to attach to those words a steady and
consistent meaning. Are we in fact under the expression “nature” to
include both matter and its phenomena, and mind and its phenomena? Is
nature to include all things which exist, including their causes; laws,
and forces; or is it to be restricted to matter, its laws and forces? Or
is it to include all things that exist, except God? I need hardly observe
that the laying down some clear and definite principles on this subject is
vital to the present controversy.

Again: What do we mean by the laws of nature? How do we distinguish
between the laws and the forces of nature? Do the laws of nature, in the
sense in which that expression is used by science, possess any efficient
power whatever; or ought not efficiency to be predicated only of the
forces of nature, and never of its laws? Or when we speak of the forces of
nature, do we recognise any distinction between material and moral forces,
or do we confound phenomena so utterly differing in outward character, and
on whose difference some of the most important points of the controversy
about miracles rest, under a common name? What again do we mean by the
order of nature? Is it its material order; or does it include the order of
the moral universe? Until we can agree to attach a definite meaning to
these expressions, to argue that miracles are contrary to nature, or
involve a suspension of its laws, or a violation of its order, or even to
affirm the contrary position, is fighting the air. Yet this I may almost
say is the present aspect of the controversy.

Again: What do we intend, when we use the different expressions,
“miracles,” “supernatural,” “superhuman,” or events occurring out of the
order of nature? It is evident that whether they point to any real
distinctions or not, it is necessary to employ them with consistency.

The mere enumeration of these questions makes it clear that by a vague and
indefinite use of terms, or by attaching to them meanings which they
cannot accurately be made to bear, we may unconsciously assume the entire
question at issue.

First: With respect to the terms “nature” and “natural.” What do we
include under them? Bishop Butler considers that the latter term is
satisfied by attaching to it the meaning “usual.” Nature then would mean
the ordinary course of things. But such a meaning would by no means
satisfy the requirements of modern science, philosophy, or theology.

One obvious sense to attach to the word “nature” is to use it to denote
the entire mass of phenomena as contemplated by physical science. In this
point of view it would include matter, its forces, and its laws, and
embrace the entire range of those phenomena and forces where action is
necessary; and into the conception of which neither volition nor freedom
enters. If “nature” and “natural” had been used only in this sense, it
would have saved us from a great mass of inconclusive reasoning. But this
is far from being the case. Not only are they used to include matter, its
laws and forces, but also the whole phenomena of mind.

To this use of the terms the Duke of Argyll has given no inconsiderable
countenance in his admirable work, “The Reign of Law,” especially in the
sixth chapter. He uses the term law as alike applicable to the operations
of mind and matter, and this of course implies that the whole of our
mental phenomena form a portion of nature and its order. He is led to
this, among other considerations, by the use which we make of the word
“natural” as applied to the results of all kinds of mental operations. The
question may fairly be asked, Are not the works wrought by man in nature,
or is not the building of its nest by a bird, or of its comb by the bee, a
natural operation? If so, man, bird, and bee, must form a portion of
nature, and their various actions, of its order.

In a popular point of view such expressions involve no difficulty, and as
a mere verbal distinction the whole question would not be worth the labour
of discussion. But in a question like the one now under consideration,
which requires the utmost accuracy both of thought and reasoning, the case
is far different. The classing together of phenomena which differ so
entirely as mind and matter, under a common term, leads to the inference
that there is no essential difference between them, which involves at the
outset a _petitio principii_ of the entire question under definition. I
shall have occasion repeatedly to point out in the course of this work the
number of fallacious reasonings which have been introduced into the
question about the possibility and the credibility of miracles by thus
including under a common term phenomena utterly different in character. It
would be far better to get rid of words so vague as “nature” and “natural”
in this discussion, and substitute for them terms of which it is
impossible to mistake the meaning, than to employ them in senses which are
simply ambiguous and misleading. But of this more hereafter.

What then are we to do with man? Is he a part of nature and its order? I
reply that man is within material nature as far as regards his bodily
organization; but that he is outside, or above it, and belongs to a
different order, as far as his rational action, his volition, and his
moral powers are concerned. All that I am contending for is that a clear
distinction must be preserved between the necessary action of the forces
of material nature, and the voluntary action of man; and that terms must
be used which accurately denote this distinction. Matter, its forces and
laws, involve the conception of necessary action. They act in a particular
manner because they cannot help so acting. With action purely intellectual
I am not concerned, but all moral action is voluntary. Man as an agent can
act or forbear acting; matter cannot. This distinction is of the highest
importance, and must not be lost sight of behind a confused use of such
terms as natural, law, force, or order of nature, applied indeterminately
to the necessary action of material agents, and the voluntary action of
moral ones.

It will doubtless be objected by a certain order of philosophy that all
mental and moral force is only some special modification of material
force, and consequently that there is no distinction between material and
moral action, or between material and moral force, and that the words
“nature” and “natural” are correctly applied to both alike, as being
simple manifestations of the same original force. To this it will be
sufficient to reply, first: that this is an assertion only, and never has
been nor can be proved. Secondly: that it contradicts the highest of all
our certitudes, the direct testimony of consciousness, which affirms that
we live under a law of freedom, wholly different from the necessary laws
of material nature. Thirdly: that it contradicts the universal experience
of mankind, as embodied in the primary laws of human language and human
thought. To assume this at the commencement of the argument is to take for
granted the point which requires to be proved.

It would be quite out of place in a treatise like the present to attempt
to discuss the question of the origin of the free agency and the moral
nature of man. It is sufficient for the purpose to observe that, however
voluntary agency may have originated, it is a simple fact that it exists
in the universe, and that its phenomena belong to an order of its own. It
is no mere theory, but a fact, that man not only is capable of modifying
the action of the forces of the material universe, but that he has
modified them, and has produced results utterly different from those which
would have followed from their simple action. To use terms in this
controversy which overlook this plain and obvious fact, can lead to no
satisfactory result.

Are then the actions of man, the bird, and the bee, properly designated as
natural? In a popular use of language the question may be one purely
verbal; but when we are dealing with subjects requiring accurate thought,
it is in the highest degree necessary to use language which does not
confound the distinct phenomena of mind and matter under a common
designation. Both together compose the universe; but each belongs to a
different order of phenomena. The whole difficulty proceeds from the fact
that both material forces which act in conformity with necessary laws, and
moral ones which act in conformity with those of freedom, are united in
the person of man.

Another order of thought uses the term “nature” as including everything
that exists, even God; or in other words, it affirms that every thing
which has existed and exists is a manifestation of Him. As this theory
involves the denial of the personality of the Divine Being, it stands
excluded from the question under consideration, namely, the credibility of
miracles, which is utterly irrelevant, except on the assumption of the
existence of a personal God. It ought to be observed, however, that while
theism affirms that God and the universe, whether material or moral, are
distinct, it fully recognises the fact that God is immanent in both the
worlds of mind and matter, while at the same time he transcends them both.
This is an important consideration, which is too often overlooked by both
parties to the discussion.

Secondly: a still greater confusion has been introduced by a vague and
indefinite use of the term “law,” and by confusing a number of utterly
diverse phenomena under the designation of the “laws of nature.” It is
absolutely necessary to trace this fallacy to its source. The Duke of
Argyll tells us in his “Reign of Law” that there are five different senses
at least in which this word is habitually used even in scientific
writings. They are as follows:—

“First, we have law as applied simply to an observed order of facts.”

“Secondly, to that order as involving the action of some force or forces
of which nothing more can be known.”

“Thirdly, as applied to individual forces, the measure of whose operation
has been more or less defined or ascertained.”

“Fourthly, as applied to those combinations of forces which have reference
to the fulfilment of purposes or the discharge of functions.”

“Fifthly, as applied to abstract conceptions of the mind—not corresponding
with any actual phenomena, but deduced therefrom as axioms of thought,
necessary to an understanding of them. Law, in this sense, is a reduction
of the phenomena, not merely to an order of facts, but to an order of
thought.”

“These leading significations of the word Law,” says the Duke, “all circle
round the three great questions which science asks of nature, the what,
the how, and the why.”

“What are the facts in their established order?”

“How, _i.e._ from what physical causes does that order come to be? What
relation do they bear to purpose, to the fulfilment of intention, to the
discharge of function?”

Such are the multiform acceptations attached by scientific men to the term
“law,” yet the Duke is not quite certain whether they may not be even more
numerous. It is evident that if they are all imported into the question of
the credibility of miracles, our position must resemble that of persons
who are compelled to fight in the dark; and that the question whether an
occurrence is natural or supernatural, whether it is contrary to, or a
violation of the laws of nature, or above nature, and many others which
enter into this controversy must be without definite meaning. It is clear
that unless we can restrict the word “law” to one, or at most, two
definite meanings, we shall get into hopeless confusion, or to speak more
correctly, we shall open the gate wide for the introduction of any number
of fallacies.

The primary conception implied by the term “law” is unquestionably one
which is strictly applicable to man and his actions, and can only be
applied metaphorically, and in some systems of thought after a
considerable change of meaning, to the facts and phenomena of the material
universe. A law is a rule of action for human conduct and nothing more.
Such rules of conduct for the most part pre‐suppose that they are imposed
by some external authority, which has the right or the power to enforce
obedience to them; or else that the person obeying them has an inward
feeling that it is right to do so, and knows that his conscience will
reproach him for the omission. But law, strictly speaking, is simply the
rule of action itself, as for instance, an Act of Parliament; but as in
practice all such rules are enforced by a sanction of some kind, our
conception of a law is also united with that of a lawgiver, who has both
the right and the power to enforce it.

It follows therefore that such a conception is essentially a moral one. It
is also intimately united with the knowledge that we possess the power to
act or forbear acting in conformity with its dictates, and, if we prefer
it, of taking the consequences of disobedience. But when such a conception
is transferred to material nature it loses a considerable portion of its
original significancy.

In its application therefore to physical science, it may with strict
propriety be used to denote an invariable order of events: and if the
human analogy could hold in physics it might be used to include the power
which originated and enforced them. But as the consideration of will or
purpose forms no portion of strictly physical science, and is expressly
excluded from it, the term law as used by it ought to denote the
invariable order of sequences, and not to include the forces which
generate them. Unless this distinction is carefully observed, we shall be
in danger of introducing into our reasonings human analogies to which
there is nothing corresponding in nature viewed as a mere body of
unintelligent forces.

The use of the term “law” in physical science ought to be confined to
denote the invariable sequences of the material phenomena. Physicists
profess to know nothing of efficient causation; or of a lawgiver standing
outside his laws and possessing power to enforce them. The whole question
of intelligent agency or purpose lies in a region outside their province.
Law, as far as physical science is acquainted with it, can consist only of
a set of antecedents, followed by an invariable set of consequents. Of any
inherent efficacy in these antecedents to produce their consequents, it
can affirm nothing. A very popular philosophy even denies the power of the
human mind to penetrate beyond this, and affirms that its entire knowledge
is limited to phenomena.

But physical science also deals with forces. These, and not its laws, are
its true principles of causation. Mere invariable sequences can effect
nothing; but forces, such as gravitation, heat, electricity, and the
entire body of chemical forces, or whatever force they may ultimately be
resolved into, can effect much. They are in fact the antecedents of which
the invariable order of events are the consequents. Respecting the
ultimate principle of force, or what is its real nature, or how it is
directed, or came to be, physical science is silent. All that it can do is
to observe the order of their occurrence, measure their quantities, and
tabulate their results. By this means it rises to the conception of what
are called the laws of nature.

If in the present controversy the word law had been used in this sense
only, it would have been wholly unexceptionable. But it becomes far
otherwise when the idea of force or efficiency is introduced into it.
Nothing is more common in the reasonings of those who attempt to prove
that miracles are impossible, than to import into the term law the idea of
force, or efficient causation, even at the very time when the presence of
intelligent action is denied. It is this which imparts to this class of
reasonings their entire speciousness. The laws of material nature are
continually spoken of as though they were forces which are energetic in
the universe, and to the energy of which all things owe their present
form; or in other words, it is assumed that the laws of nature are causes
which have produced by their unintelligent action the present order of the
universe.

Nothing however can be clearer than that a law of nature, in the sense in
which purely physical science can take cognizance of one, can effectuate
nothing. What can an invariable order of sequences effect? Before the idea
of efficiency can be attached to law, the conception of force must be
introduced into it. Modern controversy, however, is constantly in the
habit of speaking of the laws of nature as though they were efficient
agents. We hear of creation by law, evolution by law, of results brought
about by the action of invariable laws, and a countless number of
assertions of a similar description. To such expressions in a popular
sense when no accuracy of expression is required, there is no objection;
but when they are introduced into the controversy respecting the
credibility of miracles, they create nothing but confusion. What is really
meant is, that such results are brought about by the action of forces
which act in conformity with invariable laws, but the idea of intelligence
and volition is carefully excluded from the conception. It is clearly
inaccurate to speak of laws reigning. Laws do not reign even in political
societies; but only the power which is able to enact and enforce them. In
material nature the only things which possess efficiency are its forces.

There can be no objection to the use of the expression, “the laws of
mind,” when care is taken to use language which clearly distinguishes
between them and unintelligent and necessary sequences of material nature.
But when the term “law” is without any qualification applied to both sets
of phenomena alike, it is certain either to lead to fallacious reasoning,
or to involve the assumption of the point at issue. Whatever may be the
origin of the moral and spiritual in man, it is certain that as they at
present exist in him, they stand out in the strongest contrast with the
forces which act upon material things, and with the laws of their action.
Nothing can be more entirely different in character than the force of
gravitation and the principles of volition and self‐consciousness, or than
the unconscious forces of material nature and those principles which
constitute our rationality. If we affirm that the forces of mind act in
conformity with law, it ought to be clearly understood that they act in
conformity with a law of their own, which affords free action to the
principle of volition. Otherwise there is the greatest danger that the
expression will involve the covert assumption of the truth of the doctrine
of philosophical necessity, or in other words, that all mental and
material forces are of the same character, that is to say, that they are
both equally necessary. This involves the assumption of the very point on
which the entire controversy turns, for if moral and material forces and
laws are all alike, it destroys the conception of a God, and the
significance of a miracle.

This brings us to the conception of force, what is it? Various definitions
of it have been given sufficiently accurate for practical purposes. It
should be observed however that physical science can know nothing of it
except as a phenomenon. The determination of its nature, and its ultimate
cause lie entirely beyond its limits. Many facts respecting it, have been
ascertained and tabulated. Many of its manifestations, which bear a
different phenomenal aspect, it has ascertained to be capable of
transmutation into one another. But it must never be forgotten that it is
able to affirm nothing respecting the source in which the forces of the
universe originate. All that it can affirm is, that they do exist. The
original conception of force is one, however, which we derive, not from
the material universe, but from the action of our own minds. We are
conscious that we are efficient agents, and that definite results follow
the action of our wills. This gives us the conception of force. We apply
it in a metaphorical sense to certain things which we observe in the
material universe and call them forces, having abstracted from our primary
idea of force the conception of volition. But all that we really know
about force tends to prove that its origin is mental and not material.

It is of the utmost importance to preserve a clear distinction between the
unconscious forces of matter and the intelligent ones of mind; otherwise
we shall inevitably be misled by such expressions as “the forces of
nature.” It is impossible to argue the question unless the distinction is
admitted as a fact, whatever theory may be held about their origin. It is
absurd to confound principles so distinct as heat, or gravitation, or
electricity, with those which produce the most disinterested moral
actions, and designate them by the common term “natural forces.” In common
language we are in no danger of error when we speak of the force of
conscience, or the force of a motive; but in discussions like the present,
where such expressions really involve the assumption of the whole
controversy, it is absurd to classify such phenomena, and the
unintelligent forces of matter under a common designation, unless it can
be demonstrated that they are all manifestations of the same power.

We come now to the much vexed question as to the meaning to be attached to
the words “miracle” and “miraculous;” and the terms closely allied to
them, “supernatural” and “superhuman.” Is there any valid distinction
between miracles and supernatural occurrences? Are, in fact, all miracles
supernatural occurrences, and all supernatural occurrences miracles? The
determination of this question is closely connected with an important
point which will be considered hereafter, viz., whether a miracle could
have any evidential value if it were brought about by a special adaptation
of the known or unknown forces of material nature.

Let it be observed that we are not discussing this question as a purely
abstract one, but in reference to the truth of Christianity. What miracles
may be in themselves, I shall not inquire; but in relation to the question
before us, what we mean when we call an occurrence a miracle ought to be
made sufficiently clear and distinct. In this controversy it would greatly
tend to precision if we used the term “miracle” as distinguished from an
occurrence which is supernatural or superhuman, to denote only those
supernatural occurrences which have an evidential value in connection with
the evidences of a divine revelation, since there may be supernatural
occurrences which would not be in any proper sense evidential.

But the further question arises, Is it necessary in order to constitute an
event a miracle that it should be one which transcends the known or the
unknown forces of material nature to have produced? It is clear that to
constitute an event a miracle it must involve supernatural or superhuman
agency of some kind; that is to say, it must be either supernatural in the
mode of its production as an objective fact, or superhuman in its
productive elements, by which I mean, that it must be preceded by an
announcement that it is going to occur, which must be beyond the sphere of
human knowledge. In order to render a supernatural event evidential, or in
other words to constitute it a miracle, it must not only consist of an
external objective fact, but its occurrence must be unknown beforehand,
and take place at the bidding of the agent. Such previous announcement, or
prediction, is necessary to render even a supernatural occurrence in the
strictest sense of the word a miracle. The prediction of some occurrence
in physical nature previously unknown may therefore convert such an event
into an evidential miracle, although the occurrence itself as a mere
objective fact may have been brought about by some known or unknown forces
of material nature. To render it such it would be necessary that the
knowledge of the occurrence should be clearly beyond the bounds of
existing knowledge. Thus, if any person, when the science of astronomy was
utterly unknown, had announced beforehand the day and the hour of the
occurrence of the next two transits of Venus, and the various places on
the earth’s surface in which they would be visible, and if the events had
taken place accordingly, this would have unquestionably proved the
presence of superhuman knowledge. The only question which in such a case
would require to be determined would be whether such a knowledge must have
been communicated by God, or by some being inferior to God. As however
none of the miracles recorded in the New Testament have the smallest
appearance of being of this character, I need not further discuss a
supposed case. My only reason for referring to it is, that if it is
supposable that any of the miracles recorded in the New Testament could,
at some future day, be shown to have been due to a combination of physical
forces, their occurring instantly at the direct command of the agent would
still give them an evidential value.

But it is clear that the miracles recorded in the New Testament, if caused
by material forces at all, could not have been due to their ordinary
action. They must have been due either to an unknown combination of known
forces, or to the calling of unknown forces into activity, or to the
immediate agency of the divine mind. It is clear therefore that their
occurrence as objective facts proves the presence of mind acting in some
way on the material forces of nature. To determine the mode in which this
action mast have taken place has nothing to do with the question of
miracles, or the reality of their occurrence.

A miracle therefore may, for all practical purposes of this argument, be
defined as an occurrence which cannot be effectuated by the ordinary
action of the known material forces of the Universe, and could only have
been brought about by the agency of intelligent volition; and which is
preceded by an announcement on the part of the agent that it is about to
happen or takes place directly on his bidding. The latter element, as I
have observed, is essential to constitute the occurrence an evidential
miracle. Otherwise in our ignorance of what unknown forces may exist in
the universe, we could have no certainty that the event was not a mere
unusual occurrence effected by some already existing but unknown forces.
To the highest form of the miracles in the New Testament, however, such an
idea would be inapplicable.

It may perhaps here be objected that in laying down this definition of a
miracle, I have not sufficiently identified its performance with the
governing power of the universe, _i.e._ God; but that if supernatural
agents exist, inferior to God, it may be due to their operation; and
consequently that it may not be evidential of a divine commission. This
objection will be fully considered in a subsequent portion of this work.

A supernatural event is one which exceeds and which cannot be effected by
any force existing in material nature. But there must always be a
difficulty in determining whether an occurrence, viewed as a bare
objective fact, belongs to that class of events which is supernatural, or
only to that which is unusual. This will always be the case until our
knowledge of the forces of the universe is so complete that we can
ascertain for certain what are the limits of their possible action, and
whether it is possible to bring into action any forces that may exist, but
are unknown to us. In strict language therefore, it is impossible to be
certain whether an occurrence, as a bare objective fact, is supernatural,
until we are acquainted with the possible action of every force that
exists in the universe. This difficulty, however, is one that is entirely
theoretical, and has not the smallest practical importance with respect to
the miracles of the New Testament. Men have had several thousand years’
experience of what can be effected by the ordinary forces of material
nature. Occurrences which lie beyond their power to effectuate prove the
presence of intelligence and volition. The introduction of an unknown
force can only be accomplished by a being who, although he may be immanent
in nature, is yet capable of controlling its material forces. Occurrences
therefore which transcend the power of the known forces existing in the
universe to accomplish, whether they are material or human, may for all
practical purposes be viewed as supernatural; that is to say, they denote
the presence and agency of a being who is possessed of power,
intelligence, and volition. Whether that being be human, superhuman, or
divine, must be determined by an intelligent exercise of our reason.

It is useless to discuss this question further. We are dealing with a very
definite question, the miraculous events recorded in the Gospels. With
respect to the great majority of them, there can be no doubt as to their
being supernatural occurrences, if they took place precisely as they are
recorded. We know enough of the ordinary forces of material nature to be
certain that the instantaneous cure of a blind or leprous man by a word
does not lie within the sphere of their operation. Such an event must
denote the special interposition of an extremely high degree of
intelligence and power. Common sense will affirm that it could only be
brought about by the intervention of the supreme power of the universe,
_i.e._ God.

In this sense every supernatural occurrence may be said to be likewise
evidential, when we have ascertained for certain that it is due to
supernatural causes, and that it cannot have been brought about by the
action of unintelligent forces, or by those which are capable of being
modified by the agency of man. But in that case it would only prove the
presence and intervention of a being who is capable of controlling the
unintelligent forces of nature. The real difficulty, as I have observed,
is to prove the supernatural nature of the occurrence. But although, if it
was certainly supernatural, it would prove the intervention of a
supernatural agent, it would say nothing as to the purpose for which such
an intervention took place. It follows therefore, that to constitute a
supernatural occurrence in the strict sense of the term a miracle, it must
take place after an announcement that it is going to happen, and take
place at the bidding of the agent who performs it.

It is highly important, in considering the miracles of the Gospels, that
the distinction between a merely supernatural event and an evidential
miracle should be kept steadily in view. All creative acts would be
supernatural events, but they would not necessarily be evidential
miracles. The incarnation, and other occurrences mentioned in the New
Testament, are supernatural ones; but to mix them up with evidential
miracles is simply to invite confusion of thought. Another class of
supernatural occurrences mentioned in the New Testament seem to have been
wrought, not for purposes directly evidential, but to awaken attention;
and another class of supernatural endowments were vouchsafed, to render it
possible to lay deep in human society the foundations of the Church as a
visible and permanent institution. Such occurrences are not directly but
indirectly evidential, and it will be necessary carefully to distinguish
between them and occurrences brought about for directly evidential
purposes. To keep this distinction clear, I shall designate the last by
the term “miracle.” A miracle is supernatural in two ways: namely, in the
agency which produced the objective fact, and in the announcement of its
occurrence.

The common definition of a miracle, as a violation or a suspension of the
laws of nature, is open to very grave objections. The question, as I have
observed, at once arises, what is included under nature? It also assumes
that we are acquainted with the mode in which miraculous agency must be
exerted; which we are not. Other definitions which have been proposed take
for granted positions which those who undertake to prove the credibility
of miracles ought never to concede. The plain fact is, that we are simply
ignorant of the mode in which God acts on material nature; and every
definition must be faulty which assumes that we have that knowledge. To
say that miracles must involve even a suspension of the laws of nature
introduces a needless difficulty. No law or force of nature need be
suspended in its action to render the occurrence of a supernatural event
possible. All that is necessary is that forces should be introduced which
are capable of overbalancing the action of opposing forces. It is
extremely inaccurate to affirm that the force of gravitation must be
suspended in order to render possible either walking on the water, or an
ascent into the sky.

It is equally unwise and unphilosophical to affirm that God cannot work a
miracle by the use of intermediate agencies, _i.e._ by the partial
employment of the forces of the material universe. It is true that in most
of the miracles recorded in the New Testament we cannot affirm the use of
such media, although we observe an economy in the use of divine power:
_i.e._ no power is exerted beyond that which is necessary to produce the
particular result in question. But in the Old Testament the use of such
media is unquestionably affirmed. To lay down in our definition of a
miracle a particular theory as to the mode in which it must be
accomplished, involves the whole subject in needless difficulties.

This question has been obscured by representing a miracle as performed by
the intervention of a higher law, superseding the action of a lower one.
This introduces the conception of force into the idea of law, and leads to
confusion of thought. Laws, or the invariable sequences between phenomena,
are neither forces nor powers. The counteraction of one force by another
is an event of daily occurrence. All that is needful for the working of a
miracle is the intervention of a force or mental energy which is capable
of acting on matter, and of overbalancing those ordinary forces which
would produce a contrary result.

It has also been urged that miracles may obey a law of miracles. The best
illustration of this idea is that which has been supplied from the
supposed operations of Mr. Babbage’s calculating machine. He supposes that
a machine might be constructed which could go on grinding out a particular
set of results for a long, yet definite period of time; then by the
operation of the same machine, that a fresh order might be introduced; and
afterwards that it might revert to the original one; and that this
operation might be continued for ever. If therefore the great Author of
nature had so planned the machine of the universe that whenever a miracle
was requisite in His scheme of Providence this abnormal event occurred,
like the new series introduced into the calculating mill, in that case
miracles might be said to follow a definite law, which might be designated
the law and order of miraculous intervention.

It is impossible to deny the ingenuity of this theory, but unfortunately
it is not only one which takes for granted that the perfection of
mechanical contrivance is the only thing that the Creator had in view in
the production of the universe, but even if this were an unquestionable
fact, it could afford us no help with respect to all the most important
miracles recorded in the New Testament. How is it possible, I ask, to
account for many of our Lord’s miracles on such a supposition? It is
expressly affirmed that this supernatural energy was frequently made to
depend on the faith of the person who invoked His help. Could any miracle‐
working mill be even conceived of, which could bring out, as part of the
normal law of its operations, the cure of blind, deaf, and leprous men by
a word, or effectuate His own resurrection from the dead, or ascension
into Heaven? Such occurrences could not be produced by the action of any
machine which has the smallest analogy to a calculating mill. But further:
such an operation would be impotent to answer the purposes of a miracle,
unless the particular result was announced beforehand by one who was
completely ignorant that the machine was capable of producing such
extraordinary results. This ignorance would likewise have to be extended
to those to whom the announcement was made. It would also be necessary
that the announcer should proclaim that on a particular day and hour the
machine would grind out the particular result of the cure of a blind man,
or a resurrection from the dead. The ability to do this would be utterly
abnormal, and impossible ever to be ground out by the self‐acting agency
of any conceivable machine, however cleverly constructed. Mr. Babbage’s
miracle‐working mill, however ingenious a conception, must therefore be
dismissed as incapable of affording us the smallest help in the present
argument.

The term “superhuman” remains to be considered. It need not detain us
long. Superhuman implies a result brought about by the intervention of a
being superior to man. Whether such an agent be divine or otherwise can
only be determined by the exercise of our reason. It has been objected
that the agency which produces an earthquake is a superhuman agency, that
is, it exceeds the powers of man to produce it. Granted: but this has no
bearing on the subject under discussion. When we use the word “superhuman”
we always mean by it, not the action of the unintelligent forces of
material nature, but of a being possessed of intelligence and will.

There is a large number of other subjects having an intimate bearing on
the correct definition of the terms habitually used in this controversy,
and which greatly modify their meaning. These however will best be
considered when I enter on the direct discussion of the possibility and
the credibility of miracles.





CHAPTER III. THE SUPERNATURAL ELEMENTS CONTAINED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT: IN
WHAT DO THEY CONSIST? AND WHAT VIEW DO ITS WRITERS TAKE RESPECTING THEM?


Before entering on the general question of miracles, it is only reasonable
to inquire of the writers of the New Testament what they have to say on
the subject. Their opinion of the nature and character of the supernatural
occurrences which they have reported is certainly of more value than that
of all other writers put together. St. John and St. Paul must have been in
the habit of coming in contact with unbelievers. It would be most
important if we could ascertain the mode adopted by them of commending
Christianity to their acceptance, and what use was made by them of the
supernatural power with which they professed to be endowed.

First: It is impossible to read the New Testament without arriving at the
conclusion that the superhuman character which is ascribed to Jesus Christ
is perfectly unique, and differs entirely from that which is ascribed to
any other person. Others wrought miracles; but they were men like
ourselves. But in the person of Jesus Christ the supernatural is
represented as inherent. To say that he possessed the power of working
miracles, is an inadequate statement of the fact. Although he embodies the
perfection of human nature with all its finite limitations, the
supernatural and the divine take up their abode in his personality.
Whenever our Lord is represented as working miracles, he is always
represented as performing them by a power which was inherent in himself.
This is never once attributed to his followers. The supernatural action
which is ascribed to Jesus Christ must be viewed, as a case distinct and
separate, by itself. The miracles performed by him are not only
evidential, but also portions of his supernatural manifestation.

According to the author of the fourth Gospel, our Lord himself rarely
designated them by either of the three terms by which miracles are usually
designated in the New Testament, viz., signs, wonders, and mighty works
(σημεῖα, τέρατα, δυνάμεις). He almost uniformly called them “Works”
(ἔργα). An important distinction is here intended. Our Lord did not view
his miracles as a separate class of actions by themselves, but as portions
of his ordinary superhuman working, and as having a distinct relation to
his entire character. Four passages will be sufficient to show this
clearly. “The works that I do in my Father’s name, they bear witness of
me.” “My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.” “If ye believe not me,
believe the works.” “Many good works have I showed you from my Father; for
which of those works do ye stone me?” When contemplated by others only,
they assume the form of signs and wonders: “Except ye see signs and
wonders, ye will not believe.” It is highly important that we should keep
steadily in view that the divine character attributed to Jesus is by no
means restricted to the performance of miracles; but that it extends
throughout his entire working, and that the two together constitute an
harmonious whole. It pertains no less to its moral and spiritual aspects,
than to the displays which he made of a power capable of controlling
nature. Even in this portion of his working, he draws special attention to
its moral and spiritual aspects. According to his view of his own mighty
works, they not only exhibited a power of controlling nature, but were
uniformly invested with a moral and spiritual environment. Throughout the
Gospels he is represented as exhibiting a greatness and dignity, a purity,
holiness, humility and benevolence, so far transcending that of other men,
as to constitute him what may be almost designated a moral and spiritual
miracle. Perfection in the moral and spiritual world is as essentially
superhuman, as power over nature is supernatural. In considering the
miracles which have been attributed to Jesus Christ, it is important to
bear in mind the manner in which they stand related to his entire
superhuman character. Otherwise we shall fail to observe the double aspect
which they bear. They were manifestations of the divine, which dwelt
within him, and also they possessed an evidential value.

I shall occasionally use the term “superhuman” instead of “divine,” as
applied to Jesus Christ, because for the purposes of this argument it will
be unnecessary for me to define the precise degree of divine character
which the evangelists intended to attribute to him. To ascertain this is
the proper function of the theologian, by comparing together the facts and
statements of the New Testament. It is sufficient for my present purpose
to observe that the perusal of the Gospels leaves the inevitable
impression on the mind that it was the purpose of their writers to depict
a divine character in union with a human one—a supernatural power acting
within the regions of the natural. This covers alike the aspects of
character presented of him both in the Synoptic and the Johannine Gospels.

Although our Lord speaks of his actions by the common name of “works”
(ἔργα), when the sacred authors speak generally of miracles, they apply to
them, as I have observed, three distinct terms, signs, mighty works, and
wonders (σημεῖα, δυνάμεις, τέρατα). Each of these denotes different
aspects in which they contemplated miracles. The sign included the
supernatural fact wrought on external nature with the whole of its moral
environment. In this point of view, the “sign” was the direct proof of a
divine mission. It is worthy of observation that the author of the fourth
Gospel has uniformly described the supernatural actions which he has
ascribed to Jesus Christ by this term. The expression “mighty works” is
intended to bring under our notice the power which was displayed in the
performance of a miracle, thereby directly connecting it with a superhuman
agency. The term “wonder” contemplates a supernatural event in its simple
aspect as an occurrence pre‐eminently fitted to command attention to the
person who was capable of performing it. We may therefore conclude that
the writers of the New Testament considered that these were the three
special functions of miracles. It is quite possible that the same miracle
might have fulfilled all three at the same time: but as three such
functions of supernatural occurrences are distinctly stated, it is quite
conceivable that there were occasions when they were limited to some one
of these in particular.

It is evident that our Lord attached the highest importance to a miracle
contemplated as a “sign,” _i.e._ to the moral environment with which it
was connected. This, although more definitely brought out in St. John’s
Gospel, is also distinctly borne witness to by the Synoptics. It forms the
ground of the reiterated refusal of our Lord to comply with the demand of
the Pharisees that he would show some sign from heaven, as a proof of his
divine mission. His miracles combined in one the two conceptions of signs
and mighty works. None of them were mere prodigies devoid of a moral
aspect.

It is worthy of consideration whether our Lord’s primary purpose in
performing supernatural actions was always directly evidential. I have
already drawn attention to their twofold aspect, as divine manifestations,
and as evidential miracles. A considerable number of the miracles recorded
in the Gospels are represented as performed by him because he was moved
with compassion. These evidently belong to the former class of his
supernatural workings. But although this was their primary object it did
not deprive them of an evidential value. But there is also another
remarkable class of supernatural actions attributed to him, viz., those in
which he is recorded to have expressly forbidden the persons whom he
healed to publish the fact. As it is evident that these miracles could
only have become extensively known by the persons cured disobeying his
orders, it is clear that they could not have been directly performed for
evidential purposes, but were the manifestations of the divine which
resided in his person.

Such are the supernatural actions attributed to Jesus Christ in the New
Testament, respecting which as a whole, whether performed for purposes
avowedly evidential or not, he himself affirms, that they bore witness of
him, that the Father had sent him. Two other classes of miracles, affirmed
to have been performed by his followers, require notice.

The whole of these are stated to have been performed by a delegated power
and commission. The great majority of them are described as having been
performed in the name of Jesus Christ. They are affirmed to have been
performed for two purposes; to prove the divine commission of those who
wrought them, and to attest the reality of their Master’s resurrection, by
giving exhibitions of his present power. These therefore are distinctly
affirmed to have been evidential miracles. A few others were providential
interferences in favour of the infant Church. There is also another class
of supernatural actions referred to in the Acts of the Apostles, such as
the passing of St. Peter’s shadow, and the supposed supernatural effects
resulting from it, and the conveyance from St. Paul’s person of
handkerchiefs and aprons to the sick, and one or two other instances.
These involve special manifestations of supernatural power, and belong to
supernatural occurrences in their aspect of wonders, or very extraordinary
events, and as such were specially adapted for drawing attention to the
message of the Apostles. But the New Testament also affirms another and
very peculiar form of the manifestation of the supernatural, as then
actually existing in the Apostolic Church. I need hardly say that I allude
to the various gifts of the Spirit, with which large numbers of its
members believed themselves to be endowed. I shall not consider them any
further here, as it will be necessary for me to enter largely on the
subject in a subsequent portion of this work. Their use and purpose was to
lay deep the foundations of the Christian Church. All that will be
necessary in this place is to draw attention to them as a distinct order
of supernatural manifestations, to the existence of which the writers of
the New Testament are pledged.

There is also one further form of supernatural manifestation affirmed by
them, namely, a great moral and spiritual transformation effected in those
who cordially embraced the Gospel. This is most positively stated by St.
Paul to have been a fact constantly taking place under his own
observation. It is only necessary for me to notice its existence, as it is
a form of supernatural manifestation, the truth or falsehood of which
forms no portion of the present controversy.

Such then are the various forms of the supernatural, to the existence of
which the writers of the New Testament are pledged as objective facts. To
these only, and not to any conceivable or possible ones, is the defender
of Christianity committed. If their occurrence can be shown to have been
impossible, either on grounds of science or philosophy, or because human
testimony is of so fallible a character that it cannot establish the truth
of a supernatural occurrence, it follows that the whole of Christianity
must have been an invention of a purely human origin, that it can have no
claim to the designation of a divine revelation, and that it is hardly
possible to free its inventors from the charge of fraud. No mere paring
down of its supernatural elements will enable us to escape from this
conclusion.

I must now proceed to consider whether the writers of the New Testament
rest the truth of Christianity on the evidence of miracles alone, and what
position they occupy respecting it.

If we assume for the sake of argument that the fourth Gospel is the work
of the Apostle John, it is evident that neither Jesus Christ nor the
Apostle accepted the theory which has been propounded by some divines, and
readily accepted by unbelievers, that the evidence of his divine mission
was exclusively founded on the testimony of miracles. To state the point
distinctly:—This Gospel places the evidence afforded by our Lord’s own
divine person, _i.e._ the moral evidence of his mission, in the first
rank, and his miraculous works in the second.

As this is a point of considerable importance, and one to which its proper
weight has been seldom attached, I will enumerate the chief statements
made in this Gospel on this subject.

First: The author of the Gospel directly affirms that Jesus is “the light
of men;” and he himself distinctly affirms of himself, “He that seeth me
seeth Him that sent me.” “I am come a light into the world, that whosoever
believeth on me should not abide in darkness.” (John xii. 45, 46.) Again,
“I am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in
darkness, but shall have the light of life.” (John viii. 12.) It is
impossible to read these and kindred passages without feeling that our
Lord appealed to something else besides his miraculous works, viewed as
mere objective facts, as a proof of his divine mission. He evidently
places the highest proof of it in his great moral and spiritual
manifestation. He asserts the possession of an inherent illumination in
his own divine Person in union with the great truths which he enunciated,
and the entire course of his divine working. To a mind capable of
appreciating a manifestation of holiness, his person and divine working
would be self‐evidential. “He that seeth me, seeth Him that sent me.” It
is evident therefore that he considered the moral aspect of even his
supernatural works as an important portion of the evidence that he came
from God.

The fourth chapter of this Gospel contains an account of our Lord’s visit
to the Samaritans. He performed no miracle on this occasion. The
Evangelist tells us that many of them accepted him as the Messiah; and
expressly states that they affirmed that this was not on account of the
report of the woman as to his supernatural insight into her character; but
because they themselves had heard him, and on this account they had
arrived at the persuasion that was the Christ. There was something
therefore in his moral manifestation, even apart from his miracles, which
produced this persuasion. The Evangelist accepts this position as a
correct one. He has even gone further, and has attributed it in the same
chapter to our Lord himself. He makes him address the nobleman who came to
solicit his interference in behalf of his sick son with these remarkable
words: “Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe.” (John iv.
48.) These words can only imply that, in the opinion of the speaker, there
was a moral and spiritual attestation of his divine mission, which stood
higher than objective miracles; and that those who witnessed it ought to
have received it as such.

In John vi. 30, ff., a remarkable dialogue is described as taking place
between our Lord and the Jews on this very subject. The Jews demand of him
to work some distinct sign in proof of his divine mission. Let it be
observed that the demand of a sign, here stated to have been made, is of
precisely the same character as similar statements which are made by the
Synoptics on the same subject, and shows that a common conception,
underlies them all. “What sign,” say they, “showest thou then, that we may
see and believe thee? what dost thou work?” They then proceed to define
the particular sign which they wish to see exhibited, by making an
invidious comparison between his miracles and those of Moses, viewed as
mere objective facts. In reply our Lord does not appeal directly to even
the miracle of which the Evangelist had just described the performance;
but throughout the remainder of the chapter, he proceeds to draw attention
to the moral and spiritual aspects of his working. “Moses gave you not
that bread from Heaven; but my Father giveth you the true bread from
Heaven; for the bread of God is he which cometh down from Heaven, and
giveth life unto the world,” &c.

In chapter vii. (17, 18) our Lord affirms: “If any man will do his will,
he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of
myself. He that speaketh of himself seeketh his own glory; but he that
seeketh his glory that sent him, the same is true, and no unrighteousness
is in him.” Here the affirmation is clear and distinct that there is a
moral and spiritual element in our Lord’s person and teaching, which
jointly with his miraculous works bear witness to his divine character.
The testimony given by the one is convergent with that of the other. This
the following affirmation of our Lord most strongly asserts. “I am one who
bear witness of myself, and the Father who sent me hath borne witness of
me,” that is to say, His moral and spiritual manifestation is in a certain
sense evidential; and the Father who sent him bore a concurrent testimony
of his supernatural work.

On similar principles our Lord reasons with the Jews in the eighth chapter
of this Gospel. In reply to the charge that he performed miracles by the
aid of the evil one he affirms, that his own absolute sinlessness,
constitutes a complete answer to it. “Which of you convinceth me of sin?
and if I say the truth why do ye not believe me?” (v. 46.) We have here a
direct appeal to men’s moral and spiritual perception, as an independent
witness to the truth of his teaching; and the affirmation that a being who
is not simply good and holy, but perfectly sinless, is worthy of absolute
credence. In other words, he does not rest the truth of his teaching on
miracles wrought to confirm his different utterances, but on the inherent
truthfulness of a sinless character. The moral aspect of his works is the
predominant one.

In the fourteenth chapter of this Gospel we have the following remarkable
declaration, which puts the whole subject in the clearest light. Philip
says to him; “Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us.” Jesus said unto
him, “Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me,
Philip? He that hath seen me hath seen the Father: Believest thou not that
I am in the Father, and the Father in me? The words that I speak unto you,
I speak not of myself; but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the
works. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me, or else
believe me for the very works’ sake.” (vs. 8‐11.)

This passage contains several most important considerations directly
bearing on this subject. I will mention them in order. First—

Philip asks for his complete conviction, a visible miracle in the form of
an appearance of God, such as was recorded in the Old Testament as having
taken place at Sinai.

Secondly. Our Lord affirms that the manifestations of his character made
in his person and work during his previous acquaintance with him were the
truest manifestations of the person, character and being of the Father.

Thirdly. That the words which he spake and his entire working, possessed
an evidential character as proving that he came from the Father: and that
his moral and spiritual perfections were such as to entitle his
affirmation to be received on his own word.

Fourthly. That if Philip was unable to receive them on this evidence,
which occupied the highest place, then he was entitled to be believed on
the evidence of his supernatural works, “If ye believe not me, _believe
the works_.”

This entire passage makes it clear that in the mind of our Lord the moral
evidence afforded by him constituted a most important portion of the
attestation of his divine mission. Nor was its value confined to those who
witnessed it during the time of his personal ministry, but he viewed it as
extending to all time. This is made clear by his reply to Thomas in
reference to his demand to be allowed to handle his risen body. “Thomas,
because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed, Blessed are they who have
not seen, and yet have believed.” (xx. 29.)

With these statements before us, unless we reject the authority of this
Gospel, it is clear that those Christian writers who have asserted that
the evidence of the Christian revelation rests exclusively on miracles as
objective facts are in error.

But the same Gospel refers us no less distinctly to the miracles of our
Lord as very important evidences of his divine mission, although they are
subordinated to those we have been considering. One or two further
references will be sufficient.

We have several declarations on this subject in the fifth chapter. “My
Father worketh hitherto, and I work. The Son can do nothing of himself,
but what he seeth the Father do; for whatsoever things he doeth, these
also doeth the Son likewise.” (vs. 17, 19.) “The works which the Father
hath given me to finish, the same works that I do bear witness of me that
the Father hath sent me.” (ver. 36.)

Here a plain parallel is drawn between the whole course of our Lord’s
working and that of the Father. In this working he evidently intended to
include his miracles. Taken in combination with his entire character the
speaker affirms that they form a conclusive proof that the Father had sent
him. He subsequently draws attention to the evidence afforded by his
miracles as such, “and the Father himself which hath sent me hath borne
witness of me.” (ver. 37.)

So again in the tenth chapter, “The works that I do in my Father’s name,
they bear witness of me,” (ver. 25.) A little further on the moral aspect
of his miracles, and their close connection with his entire working is
distinctly brought forward. “Many good works have I showed you from my
Father; for which of those works do ye stone me?” (vs 37, 38.) “If I do
not the works of my Father, believe me not, but if I do, _though ye
believe not me, believe the works_, that ye may know and believe, that the
Father is in me, and I in him.” (vs. 37, 38.) No words can bring out more
strongly the weight which our Lord attached to the moral aspect of his
miracles as proofs of his divine mission.

In the fifteenth chapter we have our Lord’s own reflections on the
evidences which he had afforded of his Messianic character, during his
entire ministry. “If I had not done among them the works which none other
man did, they had not had sin; but now they have both seen and hated both
me and my Father.” (ver. 24.) Here the miracles are classed with the other
exhibitions of our Lord’s divine character; and attention is especially
drawn to the moral aspect of his entire working as in the highest degree
evidential. “They have seen and hated both me and my Father.” It is worthy
of remark that while our Lord uniformly spoke of his miracles as part of
his general working, by which he manifested his divine character, the
Evangelist himself almost invariably calls them “signs.” This is brought
out when he gives us his own reflections on the results of his public
ministry. “Though he had done so many signs(2) before them yet they
believed not on him.” (xii. 37.) So again, “many other signs truly did
Jesus in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this
book: but these are written that ye might believe that Jesus is the
Christ, the Son of God.” (xx. 30, 31.) In both these passages our Lord’s
miracles are evidently referred to. They are pronounced to be both
evidential of his divine mission, and at the same time to be
manifestations of his character. The Evangelist while contemplating them
as miracles never loses sight of their moral aspect.

In the Synoptic Gospels one allusion is made to the evidential purpose of
a particular miracle which is worthy of notice. Generally speaking they
are viewed by the authors of these Gospels as simple manifestations of his
divine character. On this occasion, when his power to forgive sins was
questioned, he directly performed a miracle to prove that he possessed it.
“But that ye may know that the Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive
sins, he saith to the sick of the palsy, I say unto thee, arise, and take
up thy bed and go thy way into thine house.” In this case it is clear that
the purpose of performing the miracle was not to prove the truth of any
doctrinal statement which he had made; but to establish the reality of his
divine authority and commission.

While it is quite true that the authors of the Synoptic Gospels have not
enunciated the purpose of our Lord’s miracles in the formal manner in
which it is done in St. John’s Gospel, it is clear that they must have
taken the same view of their general character. In fact the evidential
purpose of their performance is less clearly stated in them than in the
fourth Gospel. All four Gospels view his miracles only as a portion of his
superhuman manifestation, and are ignorant of that broad distinction which
has been laid down between them and the other portions of his divine
working. They are in fact included under it; and it is the concurrence of
both together, and the moral aspect thereby impressed on the whole, which
proves him to be the Christ.

It has been important to ascertain what are the views of the writers of
the New Testament on this subject, because it has been strongly asserted
by authors on both sides of the controversy that the doctrines of
Christianity are proved by miracles, and that they can rest for their
attestation on no other evidence. The precise value of this position I
will consider in the following chapter. It must, however, be observed that
this is not the view taken by the writers of the New Testament. There is
not a single miracle recorded in it which is alleged to have been
performed with the direct purpose of proving the truth of a single
doctrine properly so called. Those wrought by our Lord are uniformly
represented as having been performed in proof of his divine mission, or as
an essential portion of the manifestation of the divine which dwelt within
him. As such they were signs, precisely in the same manner as the
performance of those actions which can only be performed by man are signs;
that is, they are proofs of the presence of man. In the same manner the
actions performed by our Lord are signs and proofs of the presence of the
divine man Jesus Christ. If our Lord was in truth what he asserted himself
to be, supernatural manifestations would be the concomitants of his
presence.

In exact conformity with these facts as we find them in the Gospels is the
direct dogmatic statement made by the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews
on this subject. After having asserted in the first chapter that divine
revelation is made in the person of Jesus Christ, and that God speaks to
man under the Christian dispensation “in him, who is the brightness of his
glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by
the word of his power,” the author proceeds to compare it with the former
dispensation, and to give us his views of the evidence on which it rests.
“How,” says he, “shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation; which
at the first began to be spoken by the Lord, and was confirmed unto us by
them that heard him. God also bearing them witness both by signs and
wonders, and with divers miracles and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according
to his own will.” (ii. 3, 4.)

These words distinctly inform us what were the writer’s opinions as to the
nature of the evidences on which Christianity rests. First, it reposes on
the testimony of Christ respecting himself. Secondly, it is confirmed by a
number of miracles wrought by God. This view is strictly in accordance
with our Lord’s own affirmation respecting it as recorded in the fourth
Gospel, “I am one that bear witness of myself, and the Father that sent me
hath borne witness of me.” (viii. 18.)

With respect to numerous miracles recorded in the Acts of the Apostles,
they are affirmed to have been performed for purposes directly evidential,
not however to prove the truth of any doctrine, but of our Lord’s
Messianic character. The affirmations on this point are express. “In the
name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk.” (iii. 6.) “His name,
through faith in his name, hath made this man strong.” (iii. 16.)
“Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly, that God hath made
that same Jesus whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ.” (ii. 36.)
Of the fact of the resurrection, they affirm that they were witnesses; and
that the miraculous powers imparted to them were the consequence of that
event, and a proof of its truth.

The nature of the other supernatural occurrences affirmed in the New
Testament must be fully considered hereafter. There remain however two
further statements, made by the sacred writers respecting this subject,
which require to be briefly noticed here. First, although the Gospels
affirm that John the Baptist had a divine commission to announce the
immediate setting up of the kingdom of the Messiah, and even to point him
out, they expressly assert that he performed no objective miracle in
confirmation of it. His prophetical assertions rested for their
verification on their fulfilment only, _i.e._ on the immediate appearance
of a person who united in himself all the attributes of the Messiah. The
following was the line of argument adopted by those who believed his
testimony: “John did no miracle, but all things that John spoke of this
man were true.” Secondly, while in the Apostolic Epistles, miracles are
stated to have been performed by our Lord, and supernatural powers no less
clearly asserted to have been at that very time actually present in the
Church, there is only one miracle which is directly referred to in proof
of the divine mission of Christ. I need not say that this is the greatest
of all the miracles recorded in the Gospels, viz. his resurrection from
the dead. On this their unanimous testimony affirms that Christianity
rests. This is the one final and decisive proof of our Lord’s divine
mission. On its truth they affirm that their claims as divine teachers
stand or fall. His resurrection from the dead puts all his other miracles
in the back ground in point of evidential value. According to their
statements it constitutes the one great assurance that God has given unto
all men that Jesus of Nazareth is Lord and Christ.

It follows, therefore, that if this one miracle can be proved to have been
an historical fact, it carries with it the entire force of all the
remaining miracles of the New Testament. But it leaves entirely untouched
the moral aspects of our Lord’s divine character. These, I may say,
constitute a standing miracle which will continue to speak for itself in
all time. This evidence is again and again referred to by the writers of
the Apostolic Epistles. The two constitute one harmonious whole. To the
latter of these it is impossible to do more than refer in the present
work; I have already devoted a distinct volume to the examination of its
evidential value, in which I have examined Christ’s witness to himself;
here I must confine myself to the consideration of the witness borne to
him by the Father.





CHAPTER IV. MIRACLES, WHAT DO THEY PROVE?


Having considered the direct assertions in the New Testament in reference
to the supernatural, it will be necessary to take a brief view of the
question in relation to modern difficulties and objections.

The following subjects present themselves for our consideration:—

1st. To what extent, and in what sense are miracles the proofs of a
revelation?

2nd. Are supernatural occurrences devoid of all moral environment capable
of affording such proof?

3rd. Can doctrinal statements or moral truths be proved by miracles?

4th. Are miracles objects of faith merely, or if not, how are they related
to our reason; and if in any sense they are objects of faith, how can they
be the media of proof?

It will be evident that these questions will immediately lay open a number
of the most important considerations. They can only be adequately dealt
with in the subsequent portions of this work. The natural place to discuss
them will be when I come to consider the objections that can be urged
against the possibility and credibility of miracles. A few preliminary
observations, however, will be necessary for the purpose of putting the
reader in possession of some of the most important points of debate and of
the positions which I intend to assume respecting them. They will also
help to clear the way for the solution of the various difficulties by
which the subject has been attempted to be obscured.

The manner in which Christianity claims to be a divine revelation, as we
have seen in the former chapter, in its most proper and distinctive sense
is that the person of Jesus Christ constitutes that revelation. It is the
manifestation of the divine character and perfections by means of the
various acts and deeds of his earthly life and ministry. It is a
revelation of the divine shining forth in the human. I have already
adduced some of the affirmations of the sacred writers on this subject. It
would be easy to multiply them indefinitely. Perhaps it would be
impossible to express the position which they take on this subject in more
distinct language than by citing two brief passages in St. Paul’s epistle
to the Colossians: “Who is,” says the Apostle, “the image of the invisible
God;” “in him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.” Both
passages affirm, as the writer’s view, that all revelation is made in the
person of Jesus Christ.

It follows, therefore, that the Christian revelation in its highest sense
is not a body of abstract dogmas, but that it consists of an objective
fact, the Incarnation. As God has manifested his eternal power and Godhead
in the material creation, so he has manifested himself as a moral and
spiritual being, 1st, imperfectly in the moral nature of man, and
afterwards perfectly, in the perfect man who unites in himself the divine
and human, Jesus Christ. God, when he effected the work of creation, made
a manifestation of himself which chiefly revealed his power and wisdom.
When he effected the Incarnation he made an additional manifestation of
himself which chiefly revealed his moral character and perfections. The
four Gospels contain the historical account of this manifestation, as made
in the actions and teaching of Jesus Christ. As this revelation consists
of a number of historical facts, all that was necessary was that his life
and actions should be correctly reported. The remaining books of the New
Testament are historical in character, with one exception, and as far as
they treat of doctrines, they may be viewed as commentaries on the Divine
fact of the Incarnation.

It follows, therefore, that the essence of Christianity consists of a
superhuman or divine fact, the Incarnation. In this point of view the
supernatural is not only a concomitant of Christianity, but it constitutes
its essence. It is the manifestation of a supernatural and superhuman
being appearing within the sphere of the natural and the human. It cannot
be too carefully observed throughout this entire controversy that the
character which is ascribed to Jesus Christ, while it embraces every
perfection of man, is no less superhuman than the powers which are
attributed to him are supernatural. In this sense the supernatural is not
merely an evidence of revelation, but its essence.

The Incarnation has frequently been designated a miracle. To do so seems
to me to incur the danger of involving the whole controversy in confusion
of thought. In a loose way of speaking, the creative acts of God may be
called miracles: that is, they involve a deviation from the previous order
of existing things, and the introduction of a new one; all such results
are unquestionable manifestations of supernatural agency, but they differ
wholly in conception from what we usually designate by the term miracle.
The Incarnation, therefore, ought not to be placed on the same footing as
miracles, which are supernatural occurrences, having a definite evidential
value, but with God’s creative acts, being the highest manifestation of
himself which he has made to man. It is perfectly true, as I have already
observed, that the miracles of Jesus Christ stand in a double aspect, as
part of his supernatural manifestation, and as possessing an evidential
value.

It is clear, therefore, that a supernatural event such as the Incarnation,
if evidential, can only be self‐evidential. It was not wrought for the
purpose of proving anything. But, as we have seen, the sacred writers and
our Lord himself assert that in a certain sense it was self‐evidential.
“For the life was manifested, and we have seen it and bear witness, and
show unto you that eternal life which was with the Father and was
manifested unto us.”

A recent writer affirms that Christianity professes to be a revelation of
supernatural truths utterly inconceivable to reason, and that such truths
can only be proved by miracles. I can understand what is meant by a truth
derived from a supernatural source of information, or one respecting a
supernatural being or occurrence: but what a supernatural truth can be
contradistinguished from other kinds of truth is far from evident.
Revelation may disclose truths which reason alone would have been unable
to discover; but this does not make the truths themselves, when they are
discovered, either supernatural or incomprehensible.

I will now proceed to consider whether there is any real ground for
affirming that occurrences which we designate as miracles are the only
proofs of a divine revelation.

The same writer, whose object is to prove that Christianity is utterly
destitute of all claims to our acceptance as a divine revelation,
endeavours to show that miracles, viewed as bare objective facts, are the
only evidence which can substantiate such a mass of incredible assertions
as those contained in the New Testament, and that their moral environment
cannot be taken into account in estimating their evidential value. For
this purpose he quotes the following passage from Dr. Mozley’s Bampton
Lectures: “Dr. Mozley,” says he, “supposes the case, that if a person of
evident integrity and loftiness of character had appeared eighteen
centuries ago announcing himself as pre‐existing from all eternity, the
Son of God, the maker of the world, who had come down from heaven, and had
assumed the nature of man, in order to be the Lamb of God that taketh away
the sins of the world, and so on, enumerating the other doctrines of
Christianity; Dr. Mozley then adds, what would be the inevitable
conclusion of sober reason respecting that person? The necessary
conclusion of sober reason would be that he was disordered in his
understanding.... By no rational being would a just and a benevolent life
be accepted as a proof of such announcements. Miracles are the necessary
complements of the truth of such announcements, which without them are
powerless and abortive, the fragments of a design which is nothing unless
it is the whole. They are necessary to the justification of such
announcements, which unless they are supernatural truth are the wildest
delusions.”—_Supernatural Religion_.

In justice to Dr. Mozley, the passage which is omitted in this citation
from his lectures ought to be quoted. It is as follows: “What other
decision could be come to when a man, looking like one of our own selves,
and only exemplifying in his life and circumstances the ordinary course of
nature, said this about himself, but that when reason had lost its balance
a dream of supernatural and unearthly, grandeur might be the
result.”—_Bampton Lectures._

Some expressions in this passage leave it open to the assumption which
this writer wishes to fasten on it that Dr. Mozley intended to affirm that
the only adequate proof of such affirmations as were made by Jesus Christ
respecting himself would have been visible miracles wrought in
confirmation of them. This, however, is not necessarily its meaning, for
the omitted passage above cited, distinctly affirms that the person who is
supposed to make such assertions is only an ordinary good and holy but
imperfect man.

But the assertions in question were not made by an ordinary man like
ourselves, but by one who is described as possessed of superhuman
greatness and holiness and of profound spiritual insight into truth. He is
uniformly depicted as speaking with the fulness of knowledge of the
subject on which he speaks. I cannot therefore admit, supposing the
character of Jesus to have been historical, that if he had made such
assertions respecting himself prior to the performance of his first
miracle at Cana, they would have been utterly unworthy of serious
attention. It must be readily admitted that if they had been affirmed of
himself by an ordinary man like ourselves, no affirmation of his would
have been a guarantee of their truth, for the simple reason that they
would have been self‐contradictory. Nor would the performance of a miracle
have made them one atom more credible. But the credibility of such an
assertion, if it had been made by such a person as Jesus Christ even prior
to his performance of a single miracle, is a wholly different question.

It follows, therefore, on the supposition that the delineation given us in
the Gospels is that of an historical reality, that his assertions
respecting himself would stand in a wholly different position from those
of any other man. He could neither deceive nor be deceived. When he made
assertions respecting himself he must have known whether they were true.
The assertions of such a person therefore would be worthy of all
acceptation.

Miracles are not the means of substantiating assertions respecting the
truth of unseen realities, nor are they used for such purposes in the New
Testament. The whole question is one of adequate knowledge. If we have the
means of knowing that a person has a complete acquaintance with truths of
which we are ignorant, we can rationally accept them as true on his
assurance that they are so, exactly on the same principles as we accept
the truths of physical science although we ourselves are ignorant of the
processes by which they are arrived at. To state the position generally,
it is quite rational to accept the affirmations of those who possess full
knowledge of any subject of which we ourselves are profoundly ignorant.
The only thing necessary is to attain an assurance that the knowledge of
our informant is adequate to justify his assertions. It is on the ground
of the fulness of his knowledge that we accept the assertions of Jesus
Christ, and not because he wrought a miracle for the purpose of proving
that his assertions were true.

Let us now consider in what sense miracles are a proof of the truth of a
divine revelation.

I lay down that the proper function of miracles is to establish the truth
of a divine commission. From this we argue to the truth of the assertions
of the persons who are intrusted with it.

If an ordinary man, such as a prophet or an apostle, were to affirm that
he had a communication from God which he was directed to make to others,
or in other words that he had a divine commission, it is evident that no
one would be bound to believe him on his mere affirmation. The simple and
obvious reply would be, Give us some proof of the reality of the fact.
Your claim is far too lofty to be admitted as valid on your simple
affirmation. The question then is, how is such a claim to be tested? I
reply by the person who makes it performing some action which is adequate
to prove that the Great Governor of the Universe ratifies this claim. He
must do something analogous to what all persons who claim to be acting
under commissions from others do, _i.e._ he must produce some direct and
formal credentials from the authority in whose name he claims to be
acting. In this case the authority is God. He must therefore perform some
action which directly identifies himself with God.

How is this to be accomplished? I answer by the performance of an
unequivocal miracle which will directly connect him with the Great
Governor of the Universe. I say unequivocal miracle, because if there were
any doubt as to its supernatural character it would be useless. Nor would
it be of any avail if it were a bare objective fact in external nature,
devoid of its moral and spiritual environment. What is required is some
direct manifestation of the divine on the sphere of the human and the
natural. It must, in fact, exactly fulfil the character so often assigned
to miracles in the Gospels. It must be a σημεῖον, or indication of the
presence of God, resembling as it were the Great Seal which is affixed to
state documents as the final mark of sovereign authority. Of such a
character are all the chief miracles recorded in the Gospels.

The question about miracles has been beclouded by debating it in an
abstract instead of in a concrete form; thus forgetting that it is not
every conceivable form of alleged supernatural occurrence with which we
have to deal, but the miracles recorded in the New Testament. By
discussing it in this form it has been possible to raise a number of
difficulties which may be abstractedly conceivable, but which have no
bearing whatever on the miracles in question. Thus it has been frequently
urged that to enable us to be certain that an alleged miracle is really
due to supernatural agency, a jury of savants ought to be impanelled,
before whom the worker of the miracle should exhibit his miraculous
operation. They are to subject it to a variety of scientific tests. Even
then if they have failed to discover error, they are to demand a second
and a third performance, in order that it may be again and again submitted
to the same process of scientific scrutiny. Until miracles can be
submitted to and verified by tests of this description they have been
affirmed to be unworthy of credit, even on the strongest ordinary
testimony.

I shall discuss this and kindred questions more fully in the subsequent
portions of this volume, when I consider the nature of the evidence which
is adequate to prove the performance of a miracle. For the present I shall
only observe that the entire plausibility of this position arises from its
being stated in an abstract or general form. We cannot help seeing in
reference to the chief miracles recorded in the New Testament, such as the
care of blind, lame or leprous persons, instantaneously by a word or a
touch, that common sense is fully adequate to determine that such
occurrences must belong to the regions of the supernatural and to no
other.

Two things are necessary to establish the reality of a supposed miracle.
First, that the alleged fact should not only have been brought about by
supernatural causes but previously announced by him who performs it:
secondly, that the fact actually happened as it appeared to happen.

There can be no doubt that the power of juggling and sleight of hand, to
perform actions which would be supernatural, if they were only what they
appear to be, is considerable, and the difficulty of detection is great.
Enthusiasm also when once excited, is capable of generating various unreal
appearances which if actual, would be supernatural. It is also mighty in
those regions where the union takes place between mind and matter, but the
chief miracles recorded in the Gospels belong to a wholly different order
of occurrence. If they took place as they are reported, no one possessed
of common sense can doubt as to whether they were due to supernatural
agency. It is no less clear that such miracles were occurrences in which
successful imposture was impossible. What is required to prove them is the
evidence of common sense, and not of scientific analysis. Let it be
observed that it is not my intention to affirm that the whole of the
supernaturalism recorded in the New Testament is of the same unequivocal
character.

The evidential value of a miracle viewed as a matter of common sense maybe
briefly stated thus. A person comes to me who affirms that he has a divine
message to communicate. I ask him to prove it. He lays his hand on one
whom I have known to be blind for the last twenty years, tells him in the
name of Jesus Christ to receive his sight, and he forthwith receives it.
There is probably no person gifted with ordinary understanding who would
not consider such an act to be an adequate proof of divine agency, all
theoretical or metaphysical difficulties to the contrary notwithstanding.

It will doubtless be objected that such an act would prove only the
presence of a superhuman instead of a divine power. This point will be
fully considered hereafter. For my present purpose it will be sufficient
to fall back on the decision of common sense, that he who can restore
sight to the sightless eye‐ball, by no other apparent instrumentality than
a word or a touch, can be no other than the Maker of the Universe.

I must now consider whether supernatural occurrences devoid of all moral
environment, are capable of proving a divine commission.

It has frequently been the habit, both of the opponents and the defenders
of Christianity, to discuss the subject of the evidential value of
miracles apart from all reference to their moral environment. As, however,
the overwhelming majority of the miracles recorded in the New Testament
profess such an environment, the question of the value of supposed
miracles which are destitute of it, forms no legitimate portion of the
subject before us. What might or might not be proved by them, even if it
could be determined satisfactorily, is quite foreign to the present
discussion, which is limited to the truth or falsehood of those contained
in the New Testament. The most important of these are not mere displays of
power, but have an unquestionable moral environment impressed upon them,
and they profess to have been wrought for a definite end and purpose. This
is less distinctly marked in some of the miracles recorded in the Old
Testament, but with them I have no present concern. It will be sufficient
to observe that while many of them were unquestionably performed in
attestation of a divine mission, as a class they bear another distinctive
purpose, viz. that of correcting the polytheistic tendencies of the age.
Hence their leading impress is that of power. The necessity of
counteracting the tendency which I have referred to, rendered it necessary
emphatically to assert the Lordship of one God over universal nature, in
opposition to that conception of it so widely diffused throughout the
ancient world, which saw a distinct power exerted in every combination of
material forces.

The very conception of a miracle as a supernatural occurrence, brought
about for the purpose of authenticating a revelation, distinguishes such
an action from one which involves only a simple exhibition of power. All
acts of moral agents must display a purpose of some kind. No conception of
God is of the smallest religious value which does not contemplate him as
being a moral agent and a being on whose actions a moral character of some
kind must be impressed. Consequently an act entirely devoid of all moral
aspect cannot prove that it has resulted from direct divine intervention.
The difficulty has originated from dividing into three separate parts an
action which is essentially one, and contemplating separately the
objective fact in the supernatural action, the circumstances attending its
performance, and the purpose for which it was performed. It is the union
of all these which constitutes the occurrence in question an evidential
miracle.

Let me now offer a few observations on a very important point for our
consideration. Can abstract doctrinal statements or moral truths be proved
by miracles?

I have already observed that as far as the miracles of the New Testament
were wrought for directly evidential purposes, they were performed, not to
prove particular doctrines, but as the credentials of a divine mission, or
that they formed a part of the superhuman manifestation of our Lord. The
apparent exceptions are those which were performed to attract attention to
the divine message, to assist in the foundation of the Church, or to bear
witness to the truth of the Resurrection. These last were in fact
attestations to the reality of the Messianic character of Jesus Christ,
which is the highest conceivable form of a divine mission, on which
miracle the truth of Christianity is directly pledged by the sacred
writers. A mere statement of the facts of the New Testament is a practical
solution of the difficulty. It nowhere affirms that a miracle was ever
performed to bear witness to the truth of an abstract doctrine.

I will now endeavour to lay down some general principles as to the
relation in which doctrinal statements stand to supernatural
manifestations. As on such a subject it will be impossible to lay down a
general rule which will be applicable to every supernatural event, it will
be necessary to consider each case by itself.

First, that of our Lord.

We believe his statements about unknown truths, on the ground that he was
perfectly veracious, and had the most perfect knowledge of the subject on
which he spoke. The actions which he performed (I mean by these, not his
miracles merely, but the entire course of his working) are evidences of
his divine character. He himself avers that he possessed the most intimate
knowledge of God, and of the great realities of the spiritual world. “We
speak,” says he, “that we do know, and testify that we have seen.” “I
speak that which I have seen with my Father.” Throughout the Synoptics
likewise he is represented as having the most entire knowledge of both
spiritual and moral truth, and as teaching direct from his own insight. We
believe the assertions, not because he confirmed their truth by the
performance of a miracle, but because he afforded evidence that he was a
veracious witness, and fully acquainted with the subject on which he
spoke. His miraculous actions proved that he was God’s messenger, and as
such were additional attestations to his veracity.

The acceptance of such affirmations as worthy of the highest credit may be
correctly designated as acts of faith; but let us never forget that such
acts of faith are also high exercises of reason. Writers in opposition to
Christianity are never wearied in running a contrast between reason and
faith, and in representing the two as standing in opposition to each
other, and belonging to wholly different regions of thought. Nor can it be
denied that they have received much encouragement to do this by the
indistinct or misleading statements of some Christian writers on the
subject. Between them no little confusion has been introduced into the
controversy, and a general idea has become prevalent that reason and faith
are two distinct, if not opposing faculties, each of which acts within a
subject matter of its own. The effect of this confusion has been
disastrous.

My contention is that faith is only another name for reason when operating
on a particular class of phenomena. To enter on an elaborate proof of this
would be out of place here; a few illustrations must therefore suffice. To
accept information from persons who have knowledge of subjects which we
have not studied, or who have mental powers of insight or perception of
which we are destitute, or who have seen phenomena which we have not seen,
is an act in conformity with our highest reason. A constant effort has
been made by unbelievers to confound faith with credulity: Faith is not
credulity, but the acceptance of truth on adequate evidence, and the
rejection of mere affirmation, when the evidence is inadequate. On the
other hand multitudes of Christians have assiduously laboured to decry
reason as the instrument for the investigation of truth. I admit that it
is not a perfect instrument, but it is the only one which we have. The
light of a candle may not be all that we can wish, but if we have no other
we shall not improve our condition by extinguishing it.

Let me illustrate this subject by a few examples. We believe the
assertions of Dr. Livingstone about the interior of Africa, although we
have no means of verifying them by ocular observation, because we know
that he has travelled there, and we are persuaded that he is a veracious
witness. We accept the higher truths of astronomy, not because we have
studied them, or are even able to appreciate the nature of the processes
by which they have been arrived at, but because they are affirmed by
persons who have afforded evidence that they possess a high order of
knowledge on that subject. The same is true throughout the whole of the
higher departments of science. We may call this an act of faith if we
like, but it is also an act of our reason. The same thing is true
throughout every department of human knowledge. It is astonishing how
small a part of it is the result of our own personal observation. It
follows therefore that the attempts which are so constantly made to
separate faith and reason, and to erect an impassable wall between them,
are suicidal alike both to faith and reason.

As therefore we accept the affirmations of others on subjects within the
limits of their own knowledge, although we ourselves are ignorant of the
processes by which it has been arrived at, so we accept the affirmations
of such a person as the Jesus of the Evangelists on those subjects on
which he affirms that he possesses the fullest knowledge.

But it will be objected that some of these assertions are made respecting
high mysteries incomprehensible to the human intellect. Can we accept such
truths?

I answer that we are only capable of accepting propositions the two terms
of which we are able to comprehend with more or less distinctness. Nothing
has been the subject of greater abuse than the word “mystery” in
connection with revelation. It is frequently represented as denoting
something which from end to end is utterly incomprehensible, like the
unknowable God of a certain system of philosophy. In the New Testament the
meaning of the word “mystery” is not an incomprehensible proposition, but
a truth which once was hidden in the divine counsels, and has been
revealed by the Gospel. That which is actually unthinkable is incapable of
affirmation or denial. None of the affirmations of Jesus Christ partake of
this character. They are mysteries only in the sense that they ran up into
spheres of thought which transcend the limits of human knowledge. But this
is done by all ultimate philosophical and scientific truths. If it be
urged that some of them are difficult or incapable of definition, the same
is true of not a few of the conceptions of science. It is also true that
they respect truths with which we could not be acquainted apart from such
a revelation as that made in the person of Jesus Christ; but this is true
of the phenomena of Creation likewise. We do not acquire a knowledge of
its phenomena by reasoning, but by observation, or from the statements of
others when they lie beyond the limits of our own observation. The
Incarnation, including as it does the divine actions and the teaching of
Jesus Christ, is not the revelation of a dogma, but the manifestation of a
new fact. This fact, like all other phenomena, although undiscoverable by
our reasoning powers without the exercise of observation, becomes after
observation a fact on which reason may justly exercise its powers. If he
be really what he professed to be, then his statements about himself give
as an account of his previous history, before he came under human
observation.

Let me now consider the relation in which miracles stand to the
affirmations of those who claimed a commission from Jesus Christ to
publish his religion in the world, and to lay the foundation of the
Church.

I must here also adhere to my original position that miraculous powers are
never described in the New Testament as being used for the direct proof of
dogmas, but for the proof of the Messianic character of Jesus Christ, or
of the divine commission of those who wrought them. The truth of the
assertions of its writers rests on no other foundation than the fulness of
their knowledge of the subjects on which they spake, whether acquired by
ordinary or by supernatural means, and on their veracity, when they affirm
that particular truths were within the limits of their knowledge. Thus St.
Paul claims acceptance for the things which he asserted because he had
been taught them by Revelation from Jesus Christ, not because he had
proved their truth, by working miracles in confirmation of them. This
course is uniformly adopted by him throughout his epistles. The object of
the mighty works that were wrought by him was to prove his own apostleship
or the fact of the resurrection.

I must not allow myself to enter on the question of inspiration, its
nature and limitations, or the degree of supernatural guidance afforded to
the apostles and their followers. Such an inquiry would be foreign to the
present subject, which is strictly historical. It is of course a direct
and necessary inference that when the miracles proved the reality of the
commission of those who performed them, they also proved that they were
fully instructed in its terms, and entitled to credit within its limits.
But the extent of their enlightenment can only be inferred from the nature
of the commission itself, and from the facts and phenomena of the New
Testament. It has been an idea widely spread that inspiration must confer
a general infallibility. The inference that a man is rendered infallible
in general matters because he is invested with a limited and definite
commission, and with endowments adequate to render him competent to fulfil
the purposes of his mission, is one which the premises will not justify.
The utmost that the possession of such a commission can prove is that its
possessor is enlightened up to its subject matter, but no further.

But in the present discussion I need not go beyond the affirmations of the
New Testament. The actions performed by Jesus Christ proved him to be the
Messiah. The miracles wrought by the apostles, were performed either to
prove the fact of his resurrection, _i.e._ that he was the Messiah, or
their own divine mission, which was dependent on its truth, or to draw
attention to their message. The supernatural gifts so frequently referred
to in the epistles, are affirmed to have been designed for the building up
of the Church into a distinct community, and when that purpose was
accomplished they were to cease. Being functional, the enlightenment
communicated by them was necessarily limited to the special subject matter
on which they were exercised. In this point of view miracles may be viewed
as attestations of the veracity of the persons who performed them, and of
the sufficiency of their knowledge on the subjects they were specially
commissioned to communicate.

But the question still remains for consideration, Can miracles prove moral
truths?

I answer emphatically in the negative. If dogmas, which may be viewed as
intellectual truths, are incapable of a direct proof by miracles, still
more so are moral truths. Such truths can rest only on a moral basis. With
respect to the miracles recorded in the New Testament, the question is
nugatory, for it nowhere affirms that its miracles were wrought for such a
purpose. It is true that Jesus Christ, as the great legislator of the
kingdom of heaven, gave an authoritative utterance to many moral precepts
as the laws of his kingdom. This royal right of legislation was inherent
in his Messiahship. But to give utterance to moral truths in a legislative
capacity, has no connection with attempting to prove them by authority.
Ordinary human legislation has its authoritative utterances. But when it
does this, it does not rest the truths themselves on authority, or base
them on adventitious testimony. Our Lord and his apostles uniformly
appealed to the internal perceptions of our moral and spiritual nature as
the only ground on which moral obligation rests.

Let it be observed, however, that this by no means pre‐supposes the truth
of the absurd proposition, that every man, however imperfect or degraded,
is capable of reasoning out all moral truth for himself. On the contrary,
definite moral knowledge requires to be communicated, as all other kinds
of knowledge. Its great principles require to be enunciated, and to be
worked out to their special applications. But the principles themselves,
as far as their binding power is concerned, must ultimately rest on the
internal perceptions of our moral and spiritual being. A miracle,
therefore, can communicate to them no higher degree of certainty or
obligation. The only thing which it can aid in establishing is, that one
invested with a divine commission may have a right to claim obedience to
special precepts on the authority of God, in whom all moral obligation
centres.

But even in this case, the ground on which the obligation rests is a moral
one, which no miracle can possibly prove or even confirm. A moral teacher
can only appeal to that in man which we variously designate as conscience,
moral sense, or the principles which are the foundation of our moral
perceptions. The fact that many men through a long course of evil get
morally blinded does not alter the case. It only exemplifies a remarkable
saying of our Lord, “If the light that is in thee be darkness, how great
is that darkness.” When the light within us has become darkness, there is
nothing left to which an appeal to the sense of duty or obligation can be
made.

The objection urged against Christianity, that because a miracle cannot
prove a moral truth it is therefore useless, is quite beyond the question
at issue. The special function of the Christian revelation is one far
higher than the mere laying down of rules for the regulation of human
conduct. Its great purpose is to impart to man a moral and spiritual
power, which is able to make obedience to the moral law a possibility; to
supply a motive of sufficient potency to make us capable of resisting the
vehemence of our passions; and one which is able to lift the morally
degraded from their degradation, and to strengthen the holy in their
holiness. According to the teaching of the New Testament, this constitutes
the great distinctive purpose of Christianity, and the end of all divine
revelation. This most important truth has been greatly overlooked in the
present controversy. It entirely disposes of the objection that if moral
truth cannot be proved by miracles, they must be valueless. To such a
revelation the presence of the supernatural is essential.

But it by no means follows because miracles are unable to impart to us a
sense of moral obligation, that a duly commissioned moral teacher would be
useless. They might prove his superior knowledge, or as attesting a divine
commission, enable him to bring obligations already existing to bear on
the mind with superior power. Thus it by no means follows that because men
possess in their mental constitution the great principles on which
scientific truths are based, each man is able to reason them out for
himself. The most highly gifted man would make slow progress without a
teacher. As I have already observed, moral truth is capable of being
taught like all other truth; and although a miracle cannot prove it, it
may establish the fact that the worker of one is a man eminently entitled
to be heard on the great subjects of moral obligation, or that he is able
to communicate knowledge which is capable of acting mightily on our moral
being.

I must now proceed to offer a few observations on the question, Are
miracles objects of faith? and if they are so in any sense, how can they
be the media of proof of a revelation?

The author of “Supernatural Religion” starts the following difficulty in
connection with this subject: “Consciousness of the difficulties which
beset miracles in the present age has led many able men to deal thus
illogically with them, and to represent them alternately as evidence and
as objects of faith.” He then proceeds to refer to Dr. Arnold, Professor
Baden Powell, and Archbishop Trench, as having been in various degrees
guilty of making this confusion.

I am not prepared to deny that many Christian writers have expressed
themselves with great indistinctness on this subject, especially in works
where miracles have been only referred to incidentally, and which only
partially treat of the supernatural elements of Christianity. This
question will be discussed more fully when we consider his definite
objections; but it will tend to a clearer understanding of the subject if
in the present place, I lay down the following propositions:—

I. That it is impossible to believe in any assertion which contradicts the
first principles of our reason, even if it were supposable that a miracle
could be wrought in confirmation of it.

II. That, although the illumination which reason imparts is imperfect, yet
as it is the only instrument that we possess for the investigation of
truth, attempts to disparage it are absurd.

III. So far is faith from standing in opposition to reason, that it is a
legitimate branch of it when exercised on a special subject matter.

IV. That beliefs which reason refuses to authorise do not originate in
faith but in credulity.

V. That even those who entertain irrational convictions are compelled to
base them on evidence of some kind which is satisfactory to themselves:
that is to say, on the dictates of their own imperfect reason.

VI. That, while we can believe in nothing that is contrary to our reason,
yet it is perfectly rational to believe in many things which our reason
would have been unable to discover.

VII. That extraordinary facts which lie beyond the limits of human
experience are not contrary to our reason: and it is perfectly rational to
believe them whenever they are adequately attested.

VIII. That a large portion of our beliefs on subjects scientific,
philosophical, historical, moral, and religious, rest on testimony; the
belief in them is highly rational, when the knowledge of those from whom
we derive our information is adequate: and consequently that faith is a
principle co‐extensive with the activities of the human mind, and is by no
means confined to subjects simply religious, however intimately it may be
connected with them.

A few brief observations will suffice in this part of our subject.

It will be observed that I have included under the term “reason” the whole
of our mental processes which are necessary for the cognition and the
discovery of truth. These include, not only our powers of inductive and
deductive reasoning, but our intuitions, our forms of thought, those
powers of our mind, which whether intuitional or instinctive, form the
foundation of many of our most important convictions and our moral
conceptions. These constitute our reason as distinct from our reasoning
powers. No little confusion has been introduced into this controversy from
the want of attending to this distinction.

It has been asserted that we can accept things as matters of faith which
to our reason would be utterly incredible. This assertion has arisen from
the confusion of things which differ widely, viz. things which our reason
might have been unable to discover, but which when discovered may be
perfectly rational, and things directly contradictory to reason. The
existence for example of a square circle is a thing absolutely incredible,
and while thus contradictory to reason, it is impossible to accept it by
faith. So would any doctrine which in a similar manner contradicted the
first principles of our rational convictions. No more pernicious principle
can be laid down than that things which are contradictory to our reason
can be accepted by the principle of faith. Such a principle would divide
the human mind into two hostile camps, and if carried to its logical
consequences, must land us in universal scepticism.

It by no means follows that things which transcend our rational powers to
discover must be contrary to our reason when they have been discovered. We
can only arrive at the knowledge of unknown facts by observation, or
accept them on the testimony of others. Until they have been brought
within our knowledge in this way, no amount of reasoning could lead to
their discovery. In a similar manner with respect to several of the facts
in the New Testament connected with the Incarnation, our reason might
never have discovered them, but when they have been discovered, they may
form suitable subjects on which to exert its energies.

The whole of the confusion in which this question has become involved has
originated in the assumption that faith is a faculty of the mind distinct
and separate from our reason, and in a certain sense opposed to it; and
that things which cannot be subjects of rational conviction may yet be the
objects of faith. Whatever opinions may have been held by divines upon
this subject, I can discover nothing which countenances them in the New
Testament.

To what class of truths is the word “faith” properly applied? I answer to
those which we accept on testimony. It has been asserted that some of the
first principles of our rational convictions, such as our belief in the
existence of an external world, or in the truth of experience, is an act
of faith. This, however, is to introduce a confusion of thought. Such
convictions can be only acts of faith as far as we believe in ourselves.

Viewing faith as the acceptance of truth on adequate testimony, it follows
that all our knowledge of things, whether natural or supernatural, that is
not the result of the action of our own minds, but which we accept on the
testimony of others, is an act of faith. Our acceptance of them depends on
the validity of the testimony that can be adduced for them. The important
question for determination is, is the subject on which it is given within
the knowledge of the informant? If it respects a fact, has he witnessed
it, or received it from others who have? Are his powers of observation
good and his judgment sound? Is he worthy of credit? The determination of
these and similar points is the proper office of our rational powers, yet
the acceptance of the fact is an act of faith. When our reason is
satisfied on all these points, faith becomes an act of reason. To assert
that the acceptance of supernatural facts belongs to a faculty of our
minds which we designate faith, and that our acceptance of others is the
result of the action of our reason, is to lay down a distinction entirely
of our own creation. In both cases the evidences must form the subject of
rational investigation, and they must be accepted or rejected as they
approve themselves to our reason.

It will perhaps be urged, that the acceptance of propositions, such as the
doctrinal statements of the New Testament, is an act of faith which stands
out in manifest contra‐distinction to an act of reason. It would be so
unquestionably, if we accepted them on insufficient evidence; but when we
do so with the knowledge that others have a full acquaintance with the
subject on which they speak, it is in the highest degree rational to
accept and to act on their testimony. A large portion of the business of
life is conducted on this principle. A man is ignorant on some subject, or
he distrusts his own judgment respecting it: he consults one who knows, or
on whose judgment he relies. For example: let us suppose that I have a
bottle full of a certain substance; I do not know whether it is a medicine
that I am in need of, or a deadly poison. I consult my chemist, and
without hesitation I act on his opinion. In all such cases (and they are
spread over the entire sphere of life) we act on faith; but it is a faith
which is in conformity with the dictates of reason. The function of the
latter is to ascertain the adequate knowledge and the veracity of the
person whose assurance we accept. If it is a rational act thus to receive
truths on the testimony of man, whose knowledge must be imperfect, it must
be still more so to accept them on the authority of him who knows all
things, _i.e._ God.

I am aware that certain writers have given such a representation of faith
as to produce the impression that it is one of its special functions to
accept certain dogmas, the terms of which are extremely obscure, or
absolutely incomprehensible. But no rational evidence can be adduced in
support of this position. To exert actual belief in a proposition the
terms of which are incomprehensible, is an impossibility, and we only
deceive ourselves when we imagine that we can. All that we can do in such
cases is to repeat words, but if they have no definite meaning we cannot
believe them: for the act of faith or conviction is founded on the
affirmation that the two terms of a particular proposition agree. It is
quite true that the facts and statements of the New Testament run up into
principles which transcend our limited power of reason; but this is common
to it, and every system of science or philosophy; and forms no peculiarity
of religion. I am far from wishing to affirm that theologians have not
fallen into this practice; but my concern is not with them, but with the
statements of the New Testament. One of the most important acquisitions
made to our mental science in the present day is that we have ascertained
that there are limits to our mental powers beyond which we cannot
penetrate. This was imperfectly realized by many of the reasoners of
earlier times, and the result has been that they have fallen into a hazy
mysticism, or logomachy.

Equally pernicious is the view that there is something particularly
meritorious in accepting truth on little or no evidence, and that to do so
is a high act of faith. Not only is this founded on no rational principle,
but it is entirely unsupported by any account of faith as given in the New
Testament, which again and again assumes the contrary position. Faith is
the acceptance of truths which lie beyond the sphere of our personal
knowledge on an adequate attestation. If an astronomer should happen to be
ignorant of chemistry, and accept its truths on the testimony of one who
was an eminent master of it, this would constitute an act of faith. Surely
such an act is one which is highly rational.

It follows, therefore, that although our belief in miracles being founded,
as it now must be, on testimony, is an act of faith, yet it is also an act
of our reason. It is, therefore, by no means absurd to speak of miracles
as objects of faith, and at the same time as possessing an evidential
value. We accept them as we do all other adequately attested facts, and
reason on them in the same manner as we do on other facts. This is the
precise course which will be pursued by the overwhelming majority of
astronomers who will be unable to witness the coming transit of Venus.
They will accept the facts on adequate testimony, and afterwards use them
as media of proof.





CHAPTER V. THE ANTECEDENT IMPROBABILITY OF MIRACLES.—THE UNKNOWN AND
UNKNOWABLE GOD.


The proof on _à priori_ grounds that an event is either possible or
probable, cannot establish that it has actually occurred. This must rest
on its own particular evidence. To prove that a revelation is both
possible and probable, and that it ought to be evidenced by miracles, may
form an essential portion of our general argument, because the degree of
probability of the occurrence of a particular fact affects the amount of
positive evidence necessary to establish its truth. But the proof that a
revelation has actually been given, or a miracle wrought, can only be
effected through the same media as those through which other facts are
established. To prove that a revelation is probable will not be of the
smallest avail to prove that one has been actually given, without adequate
proof of the fact itself.

Still the examination of the antecedent question is in this case
particularly important, because modern unbelief boldly affirms that a
revelation and its attestation of miracles are both impossible and
incredible. If this can be demonstrated, the discussion of the evidence
that can be adduced for them as facts is a useless expenditure of our
reasoning powers; for no evidence can prove the occurrence of that which
is impossible. It may be assumed, however, that those who make this
affirmation are not quite satisfied as to the cogency of their reasonings;
because, after having demonstrated, as they allege, that miracles are
impossible, they proceed to attack the evidence of those narrated in the
Gospels, and pronounce it worthless. As, therefore, the opponents of
Christianity boldly affirm that both a supernatural revelation and
miracles are impossible, it is necessary that the defender of Christianity
should examine the validity of the assertion.

Our opponents constantly charge us with reasoning in a circle, or assuming
the fact which ought to be proved. To avoid even the appearance of this, I
lay down the following positions:—

If direct atheism is a just conclusion from the phenomena of the Universe,
it follows that a divine revelation is impossible. Nor are miracles in any
proper sense of the word less so, because they are not merely facts
occurring in external nature, but facts in the production of which we
recognize intelligence and will. With the principles of atheism the
occurrence of an extraordinary event is quite compatible, because as it
cannot rise to any higher knowledge than that of phenomena, the knowledge
of the invariability of past phenomena is incapable of giving the fact
that all future phenomena will resemble the past. Still the occurrence of
a fact, however extraordinary, would not constitute a miracle, and would
prove only the existence of an unknown force in the universe, or the
predominance of chance.

The same remark is equally applicable to that form of modern atheism which
does not affirm that no God exists, but contents itself with the denial
that there is any evidence that there is one.

Nor is the case altogether different with regard to pantheism. According
to this system, God is only another name for nature, which works out every
form of fleeting existence for itself in an unceasing round of unconscious
self‐evolution. The essence of its affirmation is, that God has no
conscious personal existence, but that He is only another name for the
blind unconscious forces of the universe. Such a being (if it is possible
to conceive of it as a being at all, or as a unity) is everlastingly
making a revelation of itself by a ceaseless evolution of phenomena, the
result of the blind action of its inherent forces. But to whom? Obviously
only to beings capable of reason and consciousness, whom it (I dare not
say, He) has evolved out of its own bosom, and will again resolve into
unconsciousness. Prior to their evolution this mighty τὸ πᾶν must have
been everlastingly making manifestations of itself, without a single being
in existence capable of recognizing them. Whatever be the result of such
theories in a logical point of view, it is evident that if pantheism be a
rational account of the order of the universe, a revelation and miracles,
in any sense in which such terms can bear meaning, are impossible.

No less applicable is the same remark to that form of pantheism held by
Mr. Herbert Spencer, which, while it affirms the existence of a cause of
all things, as alike required by the demands of philosophy, science, and
religion, yet affirms that He is unknown and unknowable, and that every
thing which is knowable, although a manifestation of that great unknown
cause, yet conveys no idea of Him that the intellect can apprehend. In one
word, the unknown cause of all things is inconceivable, and incapable of
becoming the subject of rational thought. The intellect cannot help
assuming the existence of this cause of all things; but all that it can
affirm of him is, that He is unknown and unknowable; and that everything
within the bounds of our knowledge, though it may represent some mode of
his existence, cannot be he, or like him. With respect to this theory,
while it cleverly evades some of the harsher difficulties of pantheism and
atheism, it is not too much to say that it is a civil way of bowing God
out of the universe, of which He is alleged to be the cause. He can
neither be a person, nor have wisdom, nor be benevolent, nor be capable of
conscious self‐manifestation; because all these conceptions are limited
and finite. All that we can know of Him is, that such a cause exists
beyond present phenomena; and that we are condemned respecting Him, to a
profound and perpetual ignorance. It is possible to designate such a being
by the name of God, but it would be to use the term in a sense peculiar to
those who thus employ it. Such a God is a bare abstract conception of the
intellect, void of all moral value. It is sufficient for my present
purpose to observe that it is impossible for the unknown and the
unknowable to make a revelation of himself. Consequently St. Paul’s
affirmation with respect to the unknown God at Athens, “Whom therefore ye
ignorantly worship, Him declare I unto you” (Acts xvii. 23), is untrue. To
such a God a revelation of Himself, and miracles to confirm it, are alike
impossible.

It is evident, therefore, that if either of these principles can be
demonstrated to be a true account of the nature of things, all further
discussion as to the truth of a revelation or of miracles is useless. Let
us take the most favourable hypothesis, that of Mr. Spencer. It concedes
that the necessities of reason compel us to assume the existence of an
unknown cause of all things, which may be called God. But He is
unknowable; He is inscrutable. No conception of Him can be realized in
thought; it follows, therefore, that no revelation of such a being can be
made to the finite intellect of man, for if a revelation of Him could be
made, He cannot be unknowable. This being so, the person who attempts to
reason out the truth of Christianity is placed under a difficulty.
Christianity assumes the existence of a personal God, possessed of moral
attributes. This is the very truth, the evidence of which these systems
assert to be wanting. The Christian advocate, therefore, has only two
courses before him: First, To assume, in conformity with the all but
universal belief of mankind, that a personal God exists; and then to argue
for the truth of Christianity, and to answer the objections urged against
it. When we do this, objectors affirm that we beg the question. Or,
Secondly, To prove the existence of a personal God; and then to argue for
the truth of revelation. If he adopts the latter course, he is compelled
to adduce the proof on which the belief in theism rests, and to answer the
objections to it—or, in other words, to compose a bulky volume, before he
can get at the immediate subject of inquiry.

Now I affirm that the defender of Christianity is no more open to the
charge of begging the question when he assumes the existence of a personal
God as the foundation of his reasonings, than the author of a treatise on
trigonometry is, who takes for granted the truth of Euclid’s propositions.

The author of the work to which I have already referred does his utmost to
fasten on the modern defenders of Christianity the charge that they begin
and end in assumptions. I will not deny that much ambiguous language has
been used on this subject, but I trust I shall show that the charge is
utterly unfounded. I must briefly notice a few of his reasonings.

At page 68 he writes as follows: “Dr. Mozley is well aware that the
assumption of a ‘personal’ God is not susceptible of proof; indeed, this
is admitted in the statement that the definition is an assumption.”

An assumption, I ask, in what sense? Is it a simple assumption without
evidence, taken for granted for the bare purposes of argument; or is it
one which, though taken for granted in the present case, rests on a
substantial basis of evidence previously established, and which bears the
same relation to the question of miracles which the truths of Euclid do to
those of trigonometry? The latter is the fact though the mode in which the
writer puts it implies the former. Without referring to the authority of
any particular author, is he not fully aware that theists maintain that
their belief in a Personal God rests on a basis of proof which commends
itself to their reason? Have not numbers of men, endowed with the highest
powers of intellect, accepted it as satisfactory? Yet he seeks to imply
that, after all, it is an assumption. It is true that in the argument for
miracles we take it for granted; but we do so, because the proof has
commended itself to our highest reason.

I admit that Dr. Mozley has used, in speaking of this subject, language
which I cannot but think is wanting in precision. Still it does not bear
the meaning that this author seeks to fasten on it. “It is then to be
admitted,” says he, “that historically, and looking to the general actual
reception of it, this conception of God was derived from revelation. Not
from the first dawn of history to the spread of Christianity in the world
do we see in mankind at large any belief in such a Being.” The learned
author then states, at considerable length, the philosophic and vulgar
views entertained of God, and shows their inadequacy and imperfection, and
concludes as follows: “But although this conception of the Deity has been
received through the channel of the Bible, what communicates a truth is
one thing, what proves it is another.” He then proceeds to summarize the
general proof.

I cannot think this statement altogether free from ambiguity. Whatever may
have been the precise forms in which the ideas of the vulgar or the
philosopher were embodied, there is strong proof that a higher and better
conception of God, though indefinite and indistinct, underlay them all.
The most degraded polytheist has indistinct conceptions of a Supreme God
above all the degraded objects of his worship. It seems to me impossible
that such a conception of God can have been attained from revelation. It
may, in a certain sense, be said, looking at the precise form in which it
is embodied, that it has been derived by us historically from the Jewish
race. But it must have had a prior origin. St. Paul considered that the
material universe manifested His eternal power and Godhead. The primitive
form of all the great oriental religions contained in them the idea of
God. It is simply absurd to affirm that they derived it from the Bible. It
is true that the existence of a primitive revelation anterior to the Bible
has often been assumed to account for this knowledge, but this is a bare
assumption of which we have no proof, and whose only basis is conjecture.
Judaism and Christianity have been instrumental in widely spreading
correct conceptions of the Deity and dissipating false ones. Yet if the
conception had not existed in the mind at least implicitly, no formal
revelation could have put it there, for every such revelation must be
conveyed in language, and all language is meaningless, unless the mind can
realize its conceptions. The assertion, therefore, that the conception of
God has been first communicated through the channel of the Bible, and is
afterwards proved by reason, seems to me to be one not devoid of danger.
On the contrary, our belief that God exists is the very pre‐condition of
our being able to believe that He has revealed Himself. This conception
revelation may modify, invest with a higher moral character, and import
into it definiteness and precision, but it cannot create it. It is on such
grounds that the author in question seeks to involve his reasoning and
that of all other defenders of Christianity in a vicious circle. I fully
admit that the conception of God has been elevated and purified by the
influence of Christianity, and that the teaching of Christianity on this
subject is in conformity with our highest reason. But it is absurd to
affirm that this is reasoning in a circle, and that the Christian argument
involves reasoning from Theism to Christianity and from Christianity back
to Theism.

The following passage, cited by Professor Mozley from Baden Powell, is
referred to by this author as a proof that all our reasonings on this
subject are a simple argument from reason to revelation, and from
revelation to reason. The passage itself is a clear statement of the
grounds of the charge, and requires our careful consideration. “Everybody
may collect from the order and harmony of the physical universe the
existence of a God; but in acknowledging a God, we do not thereby
acknowledge this peculiar or doctrinal conception of a God. We see in the
structure of nature a mind, a universal mind, but still a mind which only
operates and expresses itself by law. Nature only does and can inform us
of mind in nature; but in no other sense does nature witness to the
existence of an omnipotent Supreme Being. Of a universal mind out of
nature, nature says nothing; and of an omnipotence which does not possess
an inherent limit in nature, she says nothing either. And therefore that
conception of a supreme Being which represents Him as a spirit independent
of the physical universe, and able from a standing‐point external to
nature, to interrupt its order, is a conception of God for which we must
go elsewhere. That conception is attained from revelation, which is
asserted to be proved by miracles. But that being the case, this doctrine
of theism rests itself upon miracles, and therefore miracles cannot rest
on this doctrine of theism.”

It will be necessary carefully to point out the inaccurate reasoning of
this passage.

First: The author speaks of nature as another expression for the forces,
laws, and phenomena of the physical universe, and for these alone. To this
I have no objection, for it would greatly conduce to clearness if it was
always confined to this meaning. But while he uses it thus, he nowhere
tells us in what relation man, including his faculties, intellectual and
moral, and above all, his will, stands to nature. Are they included in, or
excluded from it? Do they, or do they not, form a part of it? If they are
included in nature, then there are other facts in nature bearing on the
being of a God, beyond those on which the author reasons. If they are
excluded, then the reasoning is inadequate to sustain his conclusion. Our
reasonings respecting God are founded not only on the forces and laws of
physical nature, but on man, his reason, his conscience, and his will.
What makes this fallacy the more plausible is that the term nature is very
frequently used to include man, as well as the forces and laws of the
material universe.

As far as the physical universe is concerned, the mind infers the
existence of a God from its order and its harmonies; that is to say,
having observed that order and harmony have been produced by intelligence
within the sphere of our own observation, and being deeply convinced on
other grounds of reasoning that they are incapable of resulting from any
other source, we infer that the results we behold in nature are due to a
similar principle which we experience in ourselves. Such an inference is
not due to simple observation of the order of the universe only, but
unites with it an act of reasoning founded on our own self‐conscious
being. But the intelligence which produces order, as far as we are
cognisant of it, is invariably united with will. We therefore infer from
the order and harmonies of nature, not simply the conception of a God,
such as the God of pantheism; but, if they are valid to prove anything at
all, of a God who is possessed of intelligence adequate to arrange the
order, and of purpose adequate for its production. If the inference of the
existence of a God from the works of nature is valid, it must be of a God
possessed of the attributes in question, for all our inferences on such a
subject derive their validity from applying to them the analogies of our
reason.

It is quite true that in the structure of the material universe we see
only the indications of a mind operating and expressing itself by law;
that is to say, we observe in the physical universe no instances of its
violation. But WE, that is the reasoning, rational beings, whether
existing in nature or outside it, have inferred from the structure of the
universe the existence of mind, and we know of no mind which is not
possessed of conscious intelligence and will. If our reasoning from the
order of the material universe is valid to prove the presence of mind,
which is a conception entirely derived from our consciousness of
ourselves, it must be equally so to prove the existence of purpose and
volition, for we know nothing of mind which is devoid of these attributes.
The material universe proves that its order and harmony is the result of
the action of mind; but it cannot prove that the mind which produced this
order and harmony is unable to introduce a different one. But if our minds
form part of nature, then they are a proof that the author of nature has
produced something else in nature besides the order and harmonies of the
physical universe. If they are outside nature, then we have direct
evidence of the existence of beings outside and above nature, _i.e._ above
the physical forces of the universe. It follows that if finite beings
possessed of intelligence and will, exist within nature or without it, a
God who possesses similar powers may exist also.

In a narrow and restricted sense it may be quite true that nature, _i.e._
matter and its phenomena, only informs us of the presence of mind in
nature, the partner and correlative of organized matter. But let us here
guard against a latent fallacy in this mode of statement. We learn the
presence of mind, not from material nature, but by the application of our
own reason to the investigation of what its phenomena denote. This is
overlooked in the above argument. It is perfectly true that as a mere
matter of phenomenal appearance, we do not actually behold in natural
phenomena manifestations of mind acting outside nature. In fact we do not
see mind at all, but simply infer its presence from the phenomena before
us through the agency of our own reason; and this inference carries along
with it all the other attributes of mind.

The writer before me is one of those who affirm that the utmost our minds
can infer from the contemplation of nature, in which he includes every
species of vital organism, is the presence of order and harmony; and that
any inference that its phenomena testify to the presence of adaptation,
contrivance and design is invalid. I reply that this affirmation is only
valid on the assumption of a principle which altogether denies that from
natural phenomena we can infer the existence of mind. But we also observe
in natural phenomena, and above all in animal and vegetable structures,
that the results effected are produced, not by simple forces, but by the
careful adjustment of many, or by one counteracting and qualifying the
action of another, and by forces intersecting one another at precisely the
right time and place. Had any of these occurred otherwise, the result
would have been different. Throughout nature we observe innumerable
instances in which various forces have thus combined to produce a definite
result. This we usually designate by the word “adaptation.” Adaptation
implies intelligence and purpose. We are quite as much justified in
ascribing this purpose to the power manifested in nature, as any other
quality whatever, even the possession of mind.

I fully concede that natural phenomena and even the phenomena of the mind
of man, only testify directly to the existence of a power adequate to
their production, and that we cannot directly infer from them the presence
of omnipotence. But this is to quarrel about words. For the power
manifested in nature and in man is so great that the human mind can make
no distinction between it and omnipotence; or in other words, it justly
infers from its manifestations that the power which could originate this
universe and all things in it must be capable of effecting anything which
is possible. To this mind, whether in or out of nature, our reason
ascribes the attributes of intelligence and will. Such a power it is
incapable of conceiving as inherent in material forces; it therefore
assumes that this power exists outside nature, and is capable of
controlling it.

It follows therefore that the reasoning is fallacious, which asserts that
the conception of a supreme Being which represents Him as a spirit
independent of the physical universe, and able from a standing‐point
external to nature to interrupt its order, is a conception which we must
seek from revelation, and cannot be arrived at by any exertion of our
rational powers on the facts of nature and of man. Its apparent
plausibility has arisen solely from ignoring the presence of man, either
in nature or outside it, and neglecting to take the facts of human nature,
man’s reason, conscience and will, into consideration. To affirm that,
independently of man’s moral and intellectual being, physical nature, its
forces and laws, can prove nothing, is a simple platitude. We have not to
go to revelation for the principles on which we reason, but to man, and
the phenomena of his rational, self‐conscious, and voluntary agency. It
follows, therefore, that the affirmation that in conducting the Christian
argument we reason from God to miracles and from miracles to God, is
utterly disproved. Yet the writer before me has ventured to affirm that,
when we commence with the being of a personal God as the groundwork of our
reasonings, we begin and end with a bare assumption.

The philosophical writings of Dr. Mansel are also pressed into the service
for the purpose of discrediting the evidences of Christianity, and, I own,
with considerably greater reason. Mr. Herbert Spencer has also invoked
them in confirmation of his theory that God is unknown and unknowable. He
refers to them in the following words: “Here I cannot do better than avail
myself of the demonstration which Mr. Mansel, carrying out in detail the
doctrine of Sir W. Hamilton, has given us in his ‘Limits of Religious
Thought.’ And I gladly do this, not only because his mode of presentation
cannot be improved, but because writing as he does in defence of current
theology, his reasonings will be more acceptable to the majority of
readers.”

Before referring to Dr. Mansel as an unquestionable authority on this
subject, it would only have been candid in both writers to have informed
their readers that not only have his principles been repudiated by a
considerable number of Christian writers as unsound, but they have been
carefully examined by that eminent atheistic philosopher, Mr. Mill, who
gives it as his deliberate opinion that they are founded on fallacious
principles. It is absurd to urge principles, though they have been
maintained by an eminent Christian writer, which an eminent unbeliever has
pronounced unsound, as a clear and conclusive argument against
Christianity.

The work of Dr. Mansel may be described as an attempt to prove the truth
of Christianity on the principles of the most sceptical philosophy. It may
be briefly stated thus: Reason is incapable of forming any idea of God as
He is, whether as the Infinite, the Absolute, or the first Cause. All the
conceptions which we can frame on the subject are mutually self‐
destructive. On similar principles our conceptions of His moral attributes
are wholly inadequate to inform us of His real perfections. It by no means
follows that our human conception of benevolence or justice is a measure
of the divine benevolence, or of divine justice; and so of His other
attributes. It is affirmed that because they are the attributes of an
infinite Being, they lie beyond the possibility of being realized in human
thought. Consequently, holiness in God may admit of very different
manifestations from holiness in man. Upon these principles, which affirm
the inadequacy of the human intellect, even to conceive of anything as it
exists in God, it follows that our only possible conceptions of God are
relative; or, to use the word chosen by the author in relation to
Christianity, regulative; _i.e._ fitted to regulate our conduct, but not
to illuminate our understanding.

Upon the assumption that reason, when it attempts to analyse our ideas of
the Infinite, the Absolute, or the first Cause, lands us in hopeless
contradictions, Dr. Mansel arrives at the conclusion that it is incapable
of forming any conception of God as he actually exists. It follows as a
necessary consequence from this, that even by revelation we are only
capable of attaining relative ideas of Him, and that these relative ideas
do not represent His real nature, but are only regulative of conduct,
_i.e._ we are to act upon them as if they were true. _E.g._ God is
revealed as holy. Our only conception of holiness is our human conception
of it. But we cannot know that this is an adequate measure of the divine
holiness. God is declared to be benevolent. We have no conception of
benevolence but that which is derived from the human mind. So likewise
with respect to justice. But benevolence and justice as they exist in God
may differ from these qualities as they exist in man. The same thing
follows as a necessary conclusion from Dr. Mansel’s premises with respect
to all the other attributes of God. Nothing will better illustrate the
position to which this argument reduces us than to apply it to the
truthfulness or veracity of God. All that we know about truthfulness is as
it exists in finite beings, that is, in men. But God is an infinite being.
It follows therefore that truthfulness in man is no adequate
representation of truthfulness as it exists in God, that is to say, that
the divine veracity may differ from our human conception of it. This is
certainly a very startling position.

If, therefore, these principles are correct, acquiescence on the part of
man in the divine character is impossible. It is impossible to love a
being who does not present to us the aspect of loveliness; or to reverence
one who does not present to us an aspect capable of exciting this emotion;
or to feel trust in a being of whose justice we have no certainty that it
resembles our conception of justice; or to rely on the promises of one
whose veracity may differ from our own. Such feelings cannot be made to
order. They can only be generated by the contemplation of a being who is
holy, benevolent, just, and true, in the ordinary acceptation of these
words. They cannot be excited by any merely regulative ideas. We love,
reverence, and trust, not ideas or conceptions, but persons, possessing
moral attributes. But on the principle of merely regulative ideas of God,
the assertion that “God is love,” loses all its value, if God is not what
I mean by love, but, because he is infinite, he may be something else, I
know not what; and thus the great precept of the moral law, “Thou shalt
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, mind, soul, and strength,”
becomes meaningless. Such devotion of our entire nature cannot be created
by the mere command to render it. It can only be rendered to a being whose
claims over us we both feel and know to be an absolute reality, and to
whom on the conviction of their reality we can offer ourselves up a
voluntary sacrifice. But if we cannot know Him as He is, how is the fire
of devotion to Him to be kindled in our hearts? How shall we trust in Him?
How shall we acquiesce in His character? How shall we worship Him, how
shall we adore Him, if it is true that the justice, benevolence, or
holiness of the divine character may not resemble our conception of them?
Nay, more: the theory in question lays the axe to the root of the
Christian revelation itself. There is no affirmation of the New Testament
more decisive than that Jesus Christ in His divine and human personality
is the image of the invisible God, as far as His moral perfections are
concerned. Are the perfections of the character of Jesus Christ only
regulative, or are they real representations of these attributes as they
exist in God? Are the divine attributes of holiness, benevolence, or
justice, adequately represented by the manifestations of them, as made by
Jesus Christ? If we accept the testimony of St. John’s Gospel, our Lord
himself has expressly affirmed, “He that hath seen me hath seen the
Father” (John xiv. 9). But this is impossible if our conceptions of God’s
moral attributes are only regulative, and if the human idea of holiness is
no adequate representation of the divine.

However erroneous a system may be, yet if it has been elaborated by a
powerful mind, it has generally some foundation in reason, and I am far
from affirming that, with considerable qualifications, some important
elements of truth may not be found in that of Dr. Mansel. It is well that
we should be made to feel that there are limits of thought beyond which
the human mind cannot penetrate, and that there are profundities of
metaphysics which an imperfect measuring‐line cannot reach. But placing
the matter as he has, the Christian apologist may well feel indebted to
Mr. Mill for his crushing demolition of the dangerous portions of Dr.
Mansel’s system. When unbelievers quote the authority of Dr. Mansel, why
do they not also tell their readers that there was at least one unbeliever
of very high logical power, who wrote against the validity of his system.

It is one thing to affirm that we cannot penetrate to the depths of the
Deity, and that after we have raised our thoughts to the highest, there is
something higher still; and quite another to affirm that our highest
thoughts of him have no validity; or, to use the terms of a fashionable
philosophy, that God is unknown and unknowable, that no true conception of
Him can be formed in thought; in one word, that he is absolutely
unthinkable. The difficulties of this subject have arisen mainly from
discussing it in terms of pure abstractions, instead of embodying them in
a concrete form. It is impossible in this place to enter on the profound
depths involved in these questions; but a few observations will be
necessary for the purpose of clearing away the difficulties in which our
opponents seek to involve the subject of miracles. I shall confine myself
to our conceptions of the Infinite.

It is affirmed that no conception of the infinite can be framed in
thought; that it is therefore unthinkable, and transcends the limits of
human knowledge; that it is a negation; and that therefore our reason is
unable to affirm anything respecting it; that the idea of personality is
incompatible with that of infinity; and that therefore when we speak of
God as a person who possesses infinite perfections, we enter on a region
where human thought is invalid, and respecting which all affirmation
involves a contradiction.

But when we are told that the infinite transcends thought, we are entitled
to demand that we should not be kept playing with an abstraction, and to
ask, what is infinite? In what sense does it transcend thought? Does this
mean that it is absolutely unthinkable; or only partially so; or that our
conception of it is imperfect? Is it simply unknowable, or does it consist
of something which we know, _plus_ something that has not come within the
limits of our knowledge, but which something is of a similar character to
the known? It will be at once seen that the determination of these
questions is at the root of the whole controversy. If then by the infinite
we mean something known _plus_ something unknown, to speak of God as
unknowable and unthinkable is absurd. Our knowledge of Him may not be
full, but yet real so far as it goes. When it is affirmed that God is a
being who exists, but is unthinkable by man, the effect is to place Him
beyond the bounds of human knowledge, and thereby free us from all
necessity of troubling ourselves about Him. We know that He exists in the
profundities of the unknown; and that is all. For the purposes of thought
and of morality, He is thus made of less value than an algebraic _x_.

When it is affirmed that the infinite is unknowable, I again ask, what
infinite? The infinite as an abstract idea has no real existence; but
something that is infinite. The conception itself is an essentially
quantitative conception, and is only strictly applicable to number and
extension. When I speak therefore of an infinite number, what do I mean?
The only answer possible is, “The greatest number I can conceive, _plus_
all possible number without limit.” Does my adding on the latter factor
invalidate the reality of my conception of the former? Is that which is
added on anything else than number? Surely here I have a valid conception.
The same is true when we speak of the infinity of space. I mean by it the
greatest space I can conceive, _plus_ space without limit. Is the idea of
space rendered unthinkable, because I add the conception of space without
limit? Does it cease to be space? But space is conceivable. It follows
therefore that neither infinite number nor infinite extension is
absolutely unthinkable. We speak of the infinite divisibility of matter.
Does matter, because it goes on to be divided for ever, cease to be
matter?

In the same manner we speak of God, and call Him infinite. It would be far
more correct to speak of Him as a Being who has infinite attributes. Here,
however, if accuracy of thought is to be preserved, a distinction must be
made. Some attributes of God may be viewed as quantitative; others cannot.
It is to the former only that the term infinite properly applies. A moral
attribute cannot have a quantitative measure applied to it. It is
therefore not infinite, but perfect.

When we speak of God as a being possessed of infinite power, what do we
mean? The thing intended is, that He is a being who possesses such power
as enabled Him to create the universe, and that He is capable of exerting
every other degree of power which is possible. We may call this, if we
like, power without limit; though there is always one limit to possible
power, viz., that of working contradictions. Of course we are ignorant of
what are the limits of possible power.

But when we make this addition to our finite conception, we mean by it
power similar to that exhibited in the universe—it and all other power
beyond it. Must such a conception be banished outside the limits of
rational thought? Is the idea of a being who possesses power sufficient to
build the universe, and all possible power besides, unthinkable? Again, we
speak of God as infinitely wise. What do we mean by it? We affirm that He
knows all things actual and possible. The knowledge is none the less
knowledge, because to the knowledge of the actual we add on the knowledge
of the possible. Such a being is certainly not unthinkable.

Again: God is often spoken of, not only as a being possessing infinite
attributes and perfections, but as the Infinite Being. Here the attempt is
made to entangle us in a puzzle. It is argued: if He be the infinite
Being, there can be no being beyond Him. He must therefore include all
being, both actual and possible. If this be so, He must also include the
finite, otherwise there would be a being which is not included in infinite
being—or in other words, being without limit would not include all being,
which is self‐contradictory. Several other self‐contradictions may be
easily adduced by reasoning on the same principles.

I reply that the term “Being” is used here in a sense so intensely
abstract, that we have removed it out of all those conceptions of which
quantity can legitimately be predicated. Of material being we can affirm
that it is quantitative, but of no other. The adding on the word
“infinite,” and calling God the infinite Being, is to use words which have
no validity as conceptions.

But it is also common to speak of God’s moral attributes as infinite, such
as His benevolence, holiness, justice and truth. This again is inaccurate,
and its result is to plunge us into hopeless confusion of thought. Such
attributes admit of no quantitative measures. They are perfect, not
infinite. To speak of God’s truthfulness as infinite is simply absurd. A
thing is true, or not true. A moral being is truthful or not truthful.
Benevolence may be perfect or imperfect; but it cannot be measured by
number or by line. These conceptions can only mean what we mean by them,
and nothing else, even when applied to God, or we are attempting to pass
off forged notes for genuine ones. The only possible additional idea which
we introduce when thus ascribing them to God, is that in Him they are
perfect, free from the imperfections with which they exist in us. To
affirm that when we say that God is perfectly benevolent, or perfectly
truthful, we introduce into the conception, as applied to Him, a new
factor, beyond the meaning of benevolence and truthfulness as used in
human language, and that this new factor can make the divine benevolence
different from our human conception of it, or can lead God to actions
which man can by no possibility view as benevolent or true; and then to
say that God is benevolent or true, is an abuse of language, or, to use
Mr. Mill’s words, an offensive flattery.

But it has been urged that the moral attributes of God, even if we view
them not as infinite but as perfect, must be beyond the limits of human
thought, and therefore may produce results different in character from the
corresponding principles in man, because they are the attributes of an
infinite being. I have already disposed of this objection. Benevolence,
holiness, and truth cannot be other than benevolence, holiness, and truth,
to whatever being we may attribute them.

It is therefore no necessary consequence, because we ascribe to God some
attributes which are infinite, and others which are perfect, that God must
therefore be unknowable or unthinkable. We may know much about Him,
without knowing all things. Our not knowing all about things does not
render them either unknowable or unthinkable. Our knowledge may be
imperfect; but as far as it goes it maybe real. If we were to affirm that
we only know that which we know perfectly, or were unable to reason on
imperfect knowledge, mental progress would be brought to a standstill. Nor
is it right to affirm that we are only reasoning in a circle when we
reason from His moral attributes as displayed in the government of the
world in favour of the probability of a revelation; or if because a
revelation which claims to be from God, bears the impress of His
character, we employ this fact as an evidence that it comes from Him. To
affirm that He is unknowable or unthinkable is to proclaim that man has no
concern with God, and that all revelation is impossible; therefore, the
objections urged against the evidence of supernatural religion on these
grounds are untenable.

But there are the difficulties about the Absolute and the First Cause. It
has been urged that the Absolute is that which is out of relation to every
thing else—perfectly independent in itself. It is argued, therefore, if
God be this Absolute, he cannot be the first Cause, because a cause can
only be a cause by its being in relation to that of which it is the cause.
For similar reasons, if he be the first Cause, He cannot be the Absolute.
But as He is both, He must therefore be unknowable and unthinkable.

It is impossible in a treatise like this to enter into such profound
metaphysical questions. For my present purpose, I can safely refer to Mr.
Mill’s discussion on this subject. As far as the views in question bear
adversely on Christian evidence, he has sufficiently refuted them. It is
not fair for unbelievers to put forth these positions as subversive of
Christianity, without answering the reasonings of so eminent an unbeliever
as Mr. Mill in proof of their inconclusiveness, or even alluding to the
fact that he has pronounced them untenable.

There is no point which reasoners of this class have laboured more
diligently to prove than that it is impossible for human reason to think
of God as a person. The assumption of the personality of God is the
foundation of the Christian argument, without which, even if the
occurrence of miracles could be proved as objective facts, they would have
no evidential value. It follows, therefore, that if our only mode of
attaining the knowledge of the personality of God be from revelation, we
are arguing in a vicious circle.

Briefly stated, the argument of unbelief is as follows: God is the
infinite Being. Personality is a conception which necessarily involves the
finite. Therefore it cannot be predicated of an infinite Being. It follows
therefore that to speak of God as infinite, and at the same time as a
person, involves a contradiction.

It is an unquestionable fact that the only beings whom we are directly
acquainted with as persons are finite beings, _i.e._ men. No less certain
is it that the only beings whom we know to be possessed of wisdom and
intelligence are finite beings, _i.e._ men, and those various classes of
animals by which the latter quality is manifested. The argument is equally
valid for proving that wisdom and intelligence can only belong to finite
beings; and consequently that the existence of wisdom and intelligence in
the first Cause of all things is inconceivable, and the assumption that He
is wise and intelligent is a contradiction. The same argument is no less
valid against ascribing any moral perfection to Him, or in fact any other,
for all our knowledge of such things is both in itself finite, and derived
from finite beings.

But it even goes further than this. If, as the positive philosophy lays
down, our real knowledge of things is confined to direct subjects of
cognition; as the only beings which we know to be possessed of wisdom and
intelligence are men and animals, it is quite contrary to sound reasoning
to infer that these qualities can be possessed by any other class of
finite beings. To do so is to transfer human conceptions to beings who are
not human. Equally valid would be the reasoning of an animal, if he could
reason on the subject, as for instance a horse or a dog, that the
existence of wisdom and intelligence beyond his own limited sphere was an
unwarrantable assumption. Pantheists have also propounded theories on the
assumption of the existence in nature of an unconscious wisdom and
intelligence. This assumption is open to the most formidable objections;
but even on their own principles it is utterly invalid; for if on the
grounds which they allege it is impossible to ascribe personality to God,
the same reasonings are equally valid against ascribing wisdom and
intelligence to unconscious nature.

I conclude, therefore, that it by no means follows because our direct
knowledge of personality is confined to human beings, and is derived from
them, that personality itself cannot be conceived of as a property
belonging to any other than human beings. It is absurd to maintain that
the qualities of things must be confined to those things from which we
learn their existence.

But it will be objected that the very essential notion of personality is
limitation; consequently that although it may be conceived of as belonging
to limited beings, it transcends the power of thought to conceive of it as
the attribute of a being who is unlimited or infinite; that is to say,
that although it lies within the power of thought to conceive of the Being
who had adequate power to build the universe as a Person, because the
power may be a limited power, yet when I ascribe to Him beyond this the
possession of all possible power, the conception of personality becomes
unthinkable. This is the real meaning of the affirmation, unless our
reasonings are to be confined within the region of abstractions. But we
have no assurance that such reasonings are valid, unless we can bring them
to the test of some concrete form of thought.

Next: It by no means follows because our conception of personality is
derived from finite beings, that it is necessarily limited to them; and
that it cannot be thought of in connection with a being, some of whose
attributes are infinite and others perfect; in other words, that the idea
of finiteness is necessarily involved in that of personality. What are the
conceptions that make up the idea of our own personality? I reply, the
power to affirm “I” of one’s own being—the possession of will—the power of
self‐consciousness, and these in union with rationality. These conceptions
we undoubtedly derive from the contemplation of our own finite being, but
there is nothing in them which is necessarily limited to the finite. If
the conception of an infinite being is possible (and the fact that it is
so constantly introduced into this controversy proves that it is
possible), then there is no reason why these conceptions, which certainly
contain in them nothing quantitative, should not be applicable to such a
being. The real fact is, these conceptions are not inherently finite,
because they have nothing in them of a quantitative character,—they are
only derived from a being whose manifestation in space we conceive of
under the form of limitation, and whose attributes are neither infinite
nor perfect.

I must call attention to the remark already made that the correct
representation of God in thought is not that of a pure abstraction, the
infinite Being, but of a being who possesses attributes, some of which are
infinite and others perfect. To affirm that such a being is a person, is
not to attempt to think that which is unthinkable. When we affirm that God
possesses the power adequate to build the universe, and all possible power
beside, we do not ascribe to Him that of which it is impossible to
predicate the possession of will or self‐consciousness. When we affirm
that such a being exists now, that he has existed in all past known times,
and that no limits in point of time are conceivable of him, there is
nothing contradictory in ascribing to such a Being personality. It is
quite thinkable that an ultimate particle may never have had a beginning
and never will have an end; no less so is it that such a particle may be
possessed of personality, for it is finite. Surely therefore there is
nothing in the ascription to God of existence without beginning and
without end, which destroys the idea of His personality.

It has been necessary to enter thus far into this subject, because in
reasoning on the Christian revelation we must assume the existence of a
personal God, unless all such treatises, in addition to their own proper
subject‐matter, must likewise contain an elaborate work on the principles
of theism, and a refutation of those of pantheism and atheism. The
defender of Christianity is charged with reasoning in a circle, as though
he first assumed the existence of a personal God, and then derived the
idea of his existence from revelation. This charge would undoubtedly be
true if the idea of God being a person is unthinkable. I am at a loss to
conceive how it becomes one atom more thinkable if communicated by a
revelation. Much obscurity has undoubtedly been thrown on this subject by
Christian writers who have fancied that the more they can invalidate our
reason the greater gain accrues to Revelation. This is not only unwise but
irrational. Our reason doubtless is but an imperfect light, but its
extinction is to leave us to grope in darkness. I affirm therefore that
the assumption of the divine personality as the groundwork of our argument
involves no _petitio principii_, or reasoning in a circle.

One more remark and I will bring this portion of the subject to a close.
The affirmation made by this philosophy that certain things are
unthinkable is fallacious. What do we mean by “unthinkable”? It may mean
many things; first, that the subject cannot be made in any sense an object
of thought. This, in fact, is the only legitimate use of the word. But in
this sense the affirmation cannot be true of even Mr. Herbert Spencer’s
unknown and unknowable God, for it is evident that he does manage to
reason and think about him somehow. It may mean a being respecting whom we
may know much and attain a knowledge continually progressing, but
respecting whom there is much which is unknown. This unknown is called
unthinkable. But it is not unthinkable. It has only not yet become the
subject of our knowledge, and is no more unthinkable than any other
unknown truth. Or that may be pronounced to be unthinkable respecting
which our conceptions are wanting in definiteness and precision. But to
designate such things as unthinkable is an abuse of language. Or that may
be designated as unthinkable of which our conceptions fail fully to
represent the reality. As far as they go, they may be true, but there may
be something beyond of a similar kind, which they do not embrace. This is
the only sense in which it can be affirmed that God is unthinkable, but
the assertion is altogether misleading. The only correct meaning of the
expression is when some particular thing is affirmed to exist and at the
same time contradictions co‐exist in it. The actual co‐existence of these
two contradictions is unthinkable, but nothing more. Thus the existence of
a round square is unthinkable, so would the affirmation that the divine
power was at the same time both limited and unlimited. But in no other
sense is a conception unthinkable. To affirm that the cause of all things
is unthinkable because our conceptions of Him do not measure the entire
depths of His being is simply misleading.

I have gone into this question because it is evident that if God is
unthinkable a revelation of Him is impossible, and if a revelation of Him
is impossible, all miracles affirmed to have been wrought in attestation
of one must be delusions.





CHAPTER VI. THE OBJECTION THAT MIRACLES ARE CONTRARY TO REASON CONSIDERED.


Under this head are included the whole of that class of objections which
extend from the direct assertion of the impossibility of miracles to the
affirmation that even if their possibility is conceded, they are so
extremely improbable that it is a violation of the first principles of our
reason to believe in their actual occurrence. They are alleged to be
violations and contradictions of the laws of nature, and as such to be
incredible, as the stability of its laws is founded on a universal
experience. This unquestionably forms the most formidable difficulty in
the way of the acceptance of miracles, as actual occurrences, at the
present day, and therefore demands a careful consideration.

The question of the abstract impossibility of miracles need not occupy us
long. Such an affirmation can only be made on the assumption that our
reason is inadequate to affirm the existence of such a being as a personal
God. If this can be established, the whole argument is ended for all
practical purposes. It may be conceded that the occurrence of some
anomalous event as a bare objective fact is quite possible, even on the
principles of pantheism or atheism. But such objective fact would be no
miracle in any sense in which the word can be used in this discussion. If
the evidence was sufficiently strong to attest it as a fact, it would be
explicable on the supposition of some unknown force in nature, or even as
a purely chance occurrence. A miracle, in any sense in which it enters
into the present argument, is not only an abnormal objective fact, but one
which takes place at the bidding of a moral agent. It is the union of
these two which imparts to a miracle any power to attest a revelation. If,
therefore, there is no evidence of the existence of a God, miracles may be
pronounced impossible for all practical purposes in this controversy, and
we need not further discuss the question.

The whole argument as to whether the occurrence of a miracle is or is not
contrary to reason must proceed on the assumption of the existence of a
personal God. It is also a proposition so clear as to render all proof of
it superfluous, that if a personal God exists who has created the universe
and governs it by His Providence, miracles are possible.

First, I observe that a miracle cannot be pronounced incredible, on the
ground that it is an effect without an adequate cause. On this point I may
refer to the high authority of Mr. Mill, that the idea of a miracle
contradicts no law of causation. “In order,” says he, “that any alleged
fact should be contradictory to a law of causation, the allegation must be
not simply that the cause existed without being followed by the effect,
for that would be no uncommon occurrence, but that this happened in the
absence of any adequate counteracting cause. Now in the case of an alleged
miracle the objection is the very opposite of this. It is that the effect
was defeated, not in the absence, but in consequence, of a counteracting
cause, viz., a direct interposition of an act of will of some being who
has power over nature; and in particular of a being whose will being
assumed to have induced all the causes, with the powers by which they
produce their effects, may well be supposed able to counteract them.”
(_Logic_, vol. ii. p. 167.)

A miracle therefore may not be the result of the action of any force which
falls within the range of our knowledge. It may be necessary for its
performance to neutralize the action of all existing forces by the calling
into energy of more powerful ones. But their operation need not even be
suspended. An adequate force, or power, or cause (it matters not by what
name we call it) is present to effectuate the result; viz. the power which
rules the universe, _i.e._ God. As Mr. Mill justly observes, the only
question which can be raised if the existence of God is assumed, is, not
the want of the presence of an adequate cause, for the supposition pre‐
supposes the presence of one, but the want of will on the part of God to
bring about the result. Thus it may be fairly argued that God will not
work a miracle, from the fact that He has not done so in the course of
previous observation.

It has been frequently affirmed that a miracle is an act which is contrary
to the laws of nature, or a violation of them, or a suspension of them, or
a violation of the order of nature; and that its occurrence is therefore
incredible, as being contrary to reason. A miracle need involve neither of
these. The laws of nature as conceived by physical science are a set of
antecedents followed by a set of invariable consequents. A miracle does
not interfere with this. Its very conception involves a new antecedent
followed by its consequent. The utmost that can be urged is that we have
never before witnessed the presence of that particular antecedent and
consequent, or that the antecedents which we have witnessed have been
followed by totally different consequents. The only mode in which such a
law could be violated would be, if a particular antecedent was present and
no other capable of modifying its action, and it failed to be attended
with its proper consequent. But this is not involved in the conception of
a miracle.

Let us now suppose that the expression “laws of nature” is extended so as
to comprise the forces of nature as well as its invariable sequences. Such
a use of the term is very common. In this point of view, it is impossible
to affirm that the laws of nature are violated by the performance of a
miracle. This could only be the case if they were made to produce the
opposite results to those which they actually produce. Thus, if a boiler
were filled with water and a fire kindled under it, and no other force was
present capable of neutralizing the action of the fire; if, instead of the
temperature of the water being raised, it gradually froze, there would be
a clear violation of the laws of nature, _i.e._ its forces would cease to
produce their usual results. But there is nothing in the idea of a miracle
that involves this. It postulates the presence of a force or forces which
are adequate to counteract the action of those already in existence, and
to produce the adequate result.

It will be objected that we have never recognized the existence of such
forces in our previous experience. Such an objection would be valid only
on the assumption that there is no force in the universe besides those
which have been already recognized by us. This, however, science will in
the present state of our knowledge hardly venture to affirm. Besides, it
is contrary to the supposition with which we started, viz. the existence
of a power able to control nature, that is, God.

Nor is the assertion correct that the performance of a miracle necessarily
involves even a suspension of the laws of nature. This may be the mode of
the divine acting; but it is most important to observe that it by no means
follows that it must be so. A miracle may be performed by the introduction
of a force which has sufficient power to counteract the forces of nature
even while they are in the fullest operation. To take an illustration: It
has been frequently said that the force of gravity must have been
suspended in favour of Peter’s body when he walked on the water, and in
favour of that of our Lord when he ascended into heaven. But this is by no
means the case. The mere suspension of the law of gravitation would not in
either case have effected the results in question. The presence of other
forces was necessary. The law of gravitation might have been in the
fullest operation, and the miracle might have been performed by the action
of other forces adequate to neutralize it. The narrative itself implies
that this force was so far from being suspended, that it was in full
operation at the time when the miracle was performed, for the moment the
power which supported Peter’s body ceased to act he began to sink.

But further: even if we assume that any natural forces have been suspended
in the performance of a miracle, we are not called on to assume their
general suspension, but only in favour of the particular case in question.
This observation is rendered necessary because it has been frequently
urged against the possibility of miracles that their performance must have
thrown the whole mechanism of the universe into confusion, and involved an
extensive reconstruction of the processes of nature. This would
unquestionably be the case if the working of a miracle involved the
difficulty in question. But I have shown that it need not involve even the
suspension of any natural law whatever, and if such suspension took place
in any particular case, the force might have been acting with full energy
everywhere else.

The counteraction or modification of one force by the agency of another is
an event which we witness every day. The force of gravity is in the
fullest operation whenever we lift a weight from the ground—it is not
suspended for a single moment. The ability to modify the results of the
action of one force by the agency of another, or to combine many forces so
as to produce a definite result, constitutes the essence of all mechanical
contrivance. The self‐determining power of the human will is that which
calls all these particular modifications of existing forces into activity.
By means of it, the entire aspect of external nature has been changed from
the appearance which it would have presented, if no other agency had
existed besides the forces of nature which belong to matter. Man has been
a power manifested in the midst of them. I am quite aware that he can
create no new force, and that he can only control or modify the action of
those which exist, but is never capable of suspending them. Yet this power
has produced marvellous results on the external world, so that it presents
a wholly different aspect from that which it would have done if the forces
of nature had simply continued acting uncontrolled by the influence of
mind. Even in material nature itself, we meet with repeated instances of
such modifications of the results of one force by the action of another,
as for example when the force of gravitation is counteracted by that of
magnetism, or of capillary attraction. The action of no force is
suspended, it is only modified.

The assertion therefore is inaccurate which affirms that the performance
of a miracle involves the suspension of a single force in nature. It is
consequently so far no violation of any natural law. All that the idea of
it involves is the presence of a force which is capable in a particular
instance of counteracting the action of those forces which would produce a
contrary result if left to themselves. It is quite unnecessary for us to
determine, in reference to the subject under consideration, whether the
result may be brought about by a combination of forces which energize
within the visible sphere of things, or by bringing into action some
latent force, or one which only occasionally manifests itself, or by the
immediate action of the divine mind, which, having in itself all the
forces necessary to produce the universe, must possess those which are
necessary to effect the miracle.

It is a fact worthy of observation that in the case of the miracles
recorded in the Bible, the materials out of which the new results were
produced already existed in nature, as in the miracle of the
multiplication of the loaves and fishes. No act of creation was necessary.
All that was required was the presence of a force or forces, able to build
up these materials into the forms in question. God does this in ordinary
course by what we designate natural forces, by means of which corn is
grown and flesh produced. Can it be pretended that no other forces are
under the control of, or exist in God, which are able to produce these
results in a different manner, even while the ordinary forces of nature
continue in activity?

It has been further urged that a miracle involves a violation of the laws
of nature, because as it cannot be effected by any of the forces of nature
with which we are acquainted, the presence of an unknown force adequate to
produce one must be a violation of the laws of nature.

I reply that any apparent force which this objection may possess is due to
an ambiguous use of the word “law.” It is here used to denote the order of
the various occurrences in nature, and not its antecedents and invariable
consequents. If there are forces in nature beyond those with which we are
acquainted, how can their action be a violation of nature’s order? If God
is always present energizing in nature’s forces, how can any fresh putting
forth of his energy be a violation of nature’s laws? In a certain sense of
the words the order of nature may be said to be violated whenever one of
its forces is modified by the action of another, that is to say, an order
of events results from the modified action different from that which would
have resulted from the unmodified one. In this sense man is daily
violating the order of nature. But this has no bearing whatever on the
question at issue.

It will perhaps be urged that the resurrection of a dead man, or the cure
of a man born blind by a word is a violation of the laws of nature.
Whether this be so can only be determined when we are acquainted with the
means by which such an event may be brought about. The assertion itself is
a mere general statement that, as far as human observation has gone, dead
men have never returned to life; and that blindness has never been cured
at any person’s command.

But with respect to a resurrection it may be objected that it is an
observed fact amounting to a complete induction, that all men die and that
after death has taken place it is a fact no less universal that with the
exception of a few alleged instances to the contrary no resurrection has
ever taken place. It may therefore be said to be a law of nature that all
men die, and that death is followed by no resurrection. This, however, if
put into other language amounts to the following proposition. That it is a
law of nature that these results must follow, as long as the present
forces which we observe and no others are in energy. But it would cease to
be so as soon as any others capable of producing such a result were
brought into activity. The truth is that death is a phenomenon which is
caused by the joint action of a multitude of natural forces. But if these
were overborne by any force of nature, or by the Author of nature calling
any unknown force into activity, or even by the energy of his own creative
will, it would be absurd to call such an event either a violation of the
laws or of the order of nature, and therefore to affirm that it was
incredible. Death is the result of the action of the natural forces which
we observe around us. No natural force with which we are acquainted can
effect a resurrection. If it be affirmed that in this sense a resurrection
is contrary to the laws and order of nature, the expression is ambiguous
and misleading, for it is intended to be inferred that such a violation
would be contrary to reason and therefore incredible.

But the affirmation that a miracle is contrary to the order of nature
requires further consideration. What do we intend to affirm when we speak
of an order of nature or of an event being contrary to it?

In a scientific sense the order of nature can only mean the results of
forces energizing in conformity with invariable law. Every event which
occurs is the result of a combination of such forces and the product of
their joint action. These results necessarily follow an orderly
arrangement; _i.e._ the orderly result always occurs when precisely the
same antecedents and no other are present, and is invariably altered
whenever the antecedents are modified to the precise extent of the
modification. As far then as the results in nature are the effect of known
forces unmodified in their action by other forces, they follow a definite
order. Thus all the motions of the heavenly bodies present themselves to
the scientific mind as the perfection of order, because they are the
results of the action of known forces acting in conformity with invariable
law. Whenever a fact is observed which deviates from the order which these
known forces would produce, the action of another force which has hitherto
been unknown is inferred. The order of nature therefore means that the
same forces always produce the same results. There is nothing inconsistent
with this in the correct conception of a miracle. Viewed as a physical
event only, it would be due to the action of a force which has hitherto
been outside the sphere of our observation.

It is clear therefore that whenever a fresh combination of forces takes
place, their combined action will modify the result, and a very different
order of events will take place from that which would have resulted from
their unmodified action. Such modification therefore must produce a
different order of nature from that which would have otherwise resulted.
But such modifications frequently take place through the agency of man. It
therefore follows that man has the power of effecting modifications in the
order of nature, without causing any violation of nature’s laws.

But various other influences, and among them those usually designated as
chances, exert a powerful influence in changing the order of nature. It is
necessary that its forces should not only be combined, but combined at the
right time and place, or the effect which is due to their combination will
not take place; _i.e._ a different order of natural events would have
happened. An illustration will make this clear. Let us take the case of a
disintegrating rock; according as the different forces, which act on it,
meet at the suitable time and place, the progress of disintegration is
greatly lengthened or shortened. Such concurrences of events are what we
view as pure contingencies. _E.g._ water penetrates into one of its
fissures; this takes place in summer, and no appreciable result follows.
But if in winter a frost happens immediately afterwards, it will produce
an order of events widely different from that which would have happened if
either no rain had fallen or frost occurred. By their joint agency the
fissure is widened, or the rock split asunder. It follows therefore that
the concurrence of these two forces is necessary at a particular time and
place to produce the particular result. Such concurrences, though due to
natural causes, are what we call fortuitous. Yet their occurrence or non‐
occurrence occasions a different order of natural events.

Further, let us suppose that a bird with a seed in its mouth, in the
course of its flight casually drops it into a fissure in the rock, which
has been opened by the frost; and also that another concurrence of forces
has supplied the conditions suitable for its taking root and growth. This
produces a new series of events, which occasions a more rapid
disintegration, and modifies the whole of the results which follow. If the
casual act of the bird had taken place at any other time or place, the
whole series would have been different, varying with the causes which
produced the seed, and the contingencies which brought the bird to the
spot, and induced it to drop it. Let us now suppose that man with his
rational agency intervenes. He deliberately watches for the prospect of a
frosty night, pours water into the fissures, and plants seeds in fissures
where he knows that suitable material has been prepared for their growth.
Here a new order of events has been introduced, which, originating in
human agency, entirely modify the order of the results.

It is important to observe that all theories which attempt to account for
the production of living organisms by the principle of development are
compelled at almost every step of the process to postulate the concurrence
of forces of this description at the suitable time and place to render
their production possible. These must have taken place in past time in
numbers passing all comprehension. In the case of many vegetable
structures the result has been entirely modified by the contingency of
some insect choosing to enter one flower and not to enter another; and
according as this takes place a wholly different order of events follows.
Whether we choose to designate such concurrences of events at the suitable
time and place fortuitous or not, the law which regulates them is wholly
unknown, even if they are regulated by law. So far it is impossible to
affirm that these results follow a known and definite order in nature. The
concurrence of two or more such causes introduces a new series, and
occasions a break in the previously existing order of nature.

Still more completely has this happened when man with his reason and
powers of volition is introduced on the scene. It will doubtless be
objected by our materialistic philosophers, that the forces which energize
in mind act with the same uniformity as those that energize in matter, and
that volition exerts no appreciable influence on the results of our
actions. These theories, however, contradict the experience of an
overwhelming majority of mankind. Such as do so require that the strongest
proof should be given before their truth can be considered as established.
Such proof certainly yet remains to be given. Its advocates, however, tell
us that it will be forthcoming at some future time. In the meanwhile the
fact is sufficient for our purpose that man is capable of acting on nature
and of producing most important changes in the results of the action of
its forces. This being so, it is certain that an order of events takes
place through the interference of man, quite different from that which
would have taken place apart from his interference. But these
interferences take place in conformity with no known law, and their
results occasion a break in the previously existing series of events, by
the introduction of a new one. Man, therefore, is capable of interfering
with and effecting changes in the order of nature. It will be objected
that all the agencies by which such results are brought about are forces
energizing in nature in conformity with invariable law, and consequently
that the order of nature is preserved intact. It is unquestionably true
that the actual forces at work are forces in nature. But there is another
principle at work which interferes with the regular course of their
action, and brings out a series of results quite different to that which
would have been produced if they had not been interfered with. This is
man’s reason and intelligent volition. It is impossible to reduce the
action of this to any known law of invariable sequence. It follows
therefore that man is a power either in or out of nature, which is capable
of interfering with the order of the results of its material forces, or,
in the language of those with whom I am reasoning, of violating the order
of nature.

But it will be further objected that man in his action on nature can only
use or combine such natural forces as come within his knowledge; and this
proves nothing about the possibility of the action of a power outside
nature which is able to employ its known and unknown forces for the
purpose of producing such results as miracles. I answer that this
objection can have no validity unless it is first assumed that man is a
portion of nature in the sense in which we are now speaking of it. But the
proof of this has certainly yet to be given. By the word “nature,” as it
is used by this philosophy, is meant the sum total of known material
forces, acting on matter in conformity with invariable laws; that is to
say, of forces which are devoid of intelligence and volition. It is
impossible in this sense of the word to include man in it, until his
entire intellectual and moral being can be shown to be the result of
material forces. Nor even if this could be done, would it avail for the
present argument; for however it may have originated, man’s power to
modify the action of material forces is an existing fact, and produces
results quite different in kind from the action of the unintelligent
forces of nature.

The fact that the mind acts through a material organism, and is incapable
of calling into existence any new force, does not alter the position above
taken. I am quite ready to take either of the following alternatives. Man
is either in nature, or he is outside of it. If he is in it, then a power
exists within it which is capable of compelling its unintelligent forces
to effectuate the determinations of rational volition. If he is outside
nature, then a power exists outside it which is capable of effectuating
these results. It follows, therefore, that in either case a power exists
which is capable of modifying the order of nature. Now it would be absurd
to deny that whatever man can effect, God is able also to effect; and that
He is so much the more able, in proportion as His knowledge is more
perfect. Whether, therefore, God works in nature, or outside it, a power
exists which is capable of varying the order of nature without
interrupting the action of any of its forces, or violating its laws. He
also must have other forces at His command beyond those which are known to
man, and can combine them and thereby modify their action in conformity
with His pleasure. He must also be the primary force everywhere underlying
nature, which imparts to every other force its energy and power. It
follows that He can work a miracle without even suspending any of the
existing forces of nature, and that the allegation that miracles are
contrary to reason, because they are contrary to nature, and a violation
of its laws and order, is disproved.

I will now proceed to adduce examples of these contradictions to our
reason which are said to be involved in the occurrence of a miracle, for
the purpose of illustrating the confusion arising from the various senses
in which the words “nature” and “natural law,” and other similar
expressions have been employed. Although the instances will be taken from
the opponents of Revelation, I by no means wish to imply that they alone
have been guilty of this ambiguous use of language. Its defenders are
equally obnoxious to the charge.

After quoting a brief passage from Dr. Newman, the author of “Supernatural
Religion” urges the following objections: “Miracles are here described as
‘beside, beyond, and above’ nature, but a moment’s consideration will show
that in so far as these terms have any meaning at all, they are simply
evasions, and not solutions of a difficulty. If the course of nature be
interrupted in any way, whether the interruption be said to proceed from
some cause which is said to be beyond, or beside, or above nature, it is
certain that the interruption is not caused by nature itself; and every
disturbance of the order of nature, call it by whatsoever name we may, is
contrary to nature, whose chief characteristic is invariability of law. It
is clearly unnatural for the ordinary course of nature to be disturbed,
and indeed were this not the case, the disturbance would be no miracle at
all.”

It is by no means my purpose to defend Dr. Newman’s use of the
expressions, “natural,” “beside nature,” “beyond nature,” or “above
nature.” But while the author criticises Dr. Newman, it is clear that in
this passage he has fallen into a number of very singular confusions of
thought.

First: The words “nature” and “natural,” are used as though they had one
clear, simple, and invariable meaning, whereas in this passage they are
used so as to include phenomena which widely differ from one another. We
are not told what is included under the term “nature,” whether it is
restricted to matter, its forces, and its laws, or whether it also
includes mind and all its phenomena. When we speak of interruptions in the
order of nature, we usually intend it to be assumed that volition is the
cause of these interruptions. This being so, the author has included in
nature phenomena which differ so widely from one another as those of mind
and matter. He then speaks of the chief characteristic of nature being
invariability of law. The laws and forces which regulate matter are
distinguished by this invariability. But the action of mind is very
different. All men habitually speak of some portions of it as capricious.
Whether they are so or not, nothing is more certain than that many of our
mental phenomena have not been reduced to the action of known laws.

When, therefore, such expressions as “beside, beyond, and above nature,”
and “natural,” are used, I ask what nature is intended? Is it matter, its
forces and laws; or mind, including the principle of volition; or both? If
man is included in nature, then there is a power in nature which is
capable of controlling other portions of nature, and even of acting on
itself. If man is excluded from nature, then there must exist a power
outside nature, which is “beyond and above nature,” and is capable of
acting on it. But if by nature is meant the sum total of all the forces
which exist, whether material or immaterial, then it is clear that a power
must exist in nature which is capable of controlling the forces of
material nature, and of compelling them to effectuate its purposes.
Whichever point of view we take of it, the objection falls to the ground.

But, says the author, “If the course of nature be interrupted in any way,
whether the interruption proceed from a cause beyond, beside, or above
nature, such interruption cannot be caused by nature; and every
disturbance in the order of nature is contrary to nature.” This passage
seems to imply that an interruption in the order of nature cannot proceed
from nature itself. But this is certainly incorrect. Natural forces, that
is to say, material ones, modify one another; and by their combined
action, they produce a series of events quite different from what would be
the result of their separate action. Such a new series of events is to all
intents and purposes an interruption of the previous order of nature and
the introduction of a new one. Such results are produced by fortuitous
combinations taking place, in the manner which I have already illustrated,
at the right time and place. The fortuitous combination of forces in
nature is capable of producing a new order “contrary to” the previous
order of nature.

This, as I have shown, is still more evidently the case if we include the
phenomena of mind in nature.

But it is affirmed, “if the interruption be due to a cause either beyond,
beside, or above nature, the interruption cannot be caused by nature.”
This is of course a self‐evident truth. But then it is inferred that such
interruption is a disturbance of the order of nature; and that every
disturbance of its order is contrary to nature. The inference which the
reader is left to draw, and which is directly stated in other parts of the
work, is, that what is contrary to nature is contrary to reason; that a
miracle is thus contrary to nature, and therefore contrary to reason.

I observe that, although the interruption here referred to cannot be
caused by nature (for it is contrary to the conditions of the case that it
should be), yet it by no means follows that it is a breach of the order of
nature in any other sense than that which I have already discussed. Such
disturbances occur every day. It is, therefore, misleading to designate
them as contrary to nature, as they neither necessarily suspend any
natural force nor violate any natural law. I have already proved that
there is nothing in such disturbances, or, if we persist in so designating
them violations of the order of nature, that is contrary to reason. Such a
use of the terms “course and order of nature” is full of ambiguities and
certain to betray us into fallacious reasonings.

But, adds the writer, “it is clearly unnatural that the ordinary course of
nature should be disturbed.” Here the ambiguity of the expressions used,
and the consequent fallacy of the reasonings, are brought to a
culmination.

What, I ask, is intended by the ordinary course of nature? Is it the
invariable action of its forces, or the invariable sequences of their
results, or the orderly arrangement of its parts; or does it include mind
and all its phenomena, of the precise nature of the forces, laws and order
of which we are ignorant, and its action on the physical universe? What,
again, is the precise meaning which can be attached to the word
“unnatural” in such a context, where it is evident that its meaning must
vary according as we include in nature one, several, or all of these
phenomena? If by the word “unnatural” the meaning intended to be conveyed
is unusual or impossible, it is then clearly not unnatural that the course
of nature should be interrupted in the manner I have previously pointed
out. Nor if man is included in nature, is it unnatural that the results
produced by its physical forces should be greatly modified by his action?

The remark of the author in connection with this subject is perfectly
true, that a grain could never of itself, nor according to the law of
natural development, issue in a loaf of bread; but it is wholly aside from
the issue which he raises. It is unquestionable that forces purely
physical could not effect this result; but does it follow from this that
the production of a loaf of bread is an event contrary to nature? The
result can only be produced by the combination and controlling of a number
of material forces by human reason. The grain of wheat must be planted by
man at the proper season. It must be cared for by him. Various physical
forces must contribute to the growth and development of the plant. The
ears produced must be reaped in harvest‐time. This process must be
repeated until the grains are sufficient in number to produce our intended
loaf. Then they must be threshed, ground, prepared for the oven, baked. In
one word, the miller and the baker must be invoked to control, combine,
modify and give a new direction to the forces of nature under the
direction of intelligence. All this involves something more than the
action of material forces. The forces of nature carry on the work to a
certain point. Then man takes it up and interrupts their order, although
he does so by compelling other forces to effectuate the purposes of his
will. The ordinary course of material nature is disturbed in the
production of a loaf of bread. A new order of events is introduced. Man is
either within or without nature. In either case a power exists which is
capable of producing innovations in its order.

But how stands the case of the feeding of five thousand persons on seven
loaves and two fishes? The seven loaves and two fishes had been previously
produced, by the action of material forces out of materials already
existing in the ground, in water, and in the air. Of such materials there
was abundance at hand to produce the requisite amount of food for the
feeding of the multitude. The only question was how to build them up into
the forms of bread and fish. There was no occasion to create one single
particle of matter. As to the nature of the forces employed to work the
miracle the narrative says nothing. Nor does it imply that one of the
ordinary forces of nature was suspended on the occasion. All that it
asserts is the presence of a force adequate to build up the materials
already existing into the forms of bread and fish, that force being God.
In the manufacture of the loaves and in the catching of the fish, man had
interfered with nature’s order by the blending of her powers. God
interfered with nature’s order at a higher stage by building up the
particular forms of bread and fish out of materials already in existence,
by means of forces differing from those which come under our cognisance.
The act of man is evidence of the presence of a being who is able to
control the forces of external nature for his own purposes. The miracle
would be evidence of the presence of a Being who is able to exert a
mightier influence over them in order to effect his own.

Equal ambiguity prevails in the use of the term “law.” What do we mean by
law when we apply the term to nature? In physical philosophy, the Duke of
Argyll tells us it is used in a great variety of senses. Its proper
meaning is to denote an invariable sequence of phenomena. It is frequently
made to include the conception of the forces at work which produce the
phenomena. This ambiguous use of the word has been a source of endless
confusion. The following quotation will furnish us with an example:—

“If in animated beings we have the solitary instance of an efficient cause
acting among the forces of nature and possessing the power of initiation,
this efficient cause produces no disturbance of physical law. Its
existence is as much a recognised part of the infinite variety of form
within the order of nature, as the existence of a crystal or a plant; and
although the character of the force exercised by it may not be clearly
understood, its effects are regulated by the same laws as govern all the
other forces of nature. If the laws of matter are suspended by the laws of
life, each time an animated being moves any part of its body, one physical
law is suspended in precisely the same manner and to an equivalent degree,
each time another physical law is called into action. The law of
gravitation, for instance, is suspended by the law of magnetism each time
a magnet suspends a weight in the air. In each case a law is successfully
resisted precisely to the extent of the force employed.... No exercise of
will can overcome the law of gravitation or any other law to a greater
extent than the actual force exerted, any more than a magnetic current can
do so beyond the action of the battery. Will has no power against
exhaustion. Even Moses in the sublimest moments of faith could not hold up
his arms to heaven after his physical force was consumed.” P. 44, vol. i.

First: it is alleged “that an efficient cause” (man for example) “acting
among the forces of nature, and possessing the power of initiation,
produces no disturbance of physical law.” What is here meant by
disturbance of physical law? It is plain that physical forces would work
out a wholly different result apart from the action of man upon them.
Though he suspends no physical force, the action of man has produced an
order of events in nature different from that which would have taken place
without it, but by balancing one against the other he modifies their
action. What is more, he possesses a power of self‐determination. Other
forces are unintelligent. Man is an intelligent force capable of
introducing an order of nature quite different from that which the
material forces of nature would have produced without his intervention.

Next: we are told that the existence of man “is as much a recognised part
of the infinite variety of form within the order of nature as the
existence of a plant or a crystal.” I again ask, what nature? Is the order
spoken of that of blind unintelligent forces, or does it include
intelligence and free agency? Unless man is a blind unintelligent force,
although he be supposed to exist within nature, he belongs to an order
wholly different from that of a plant or a crystal. To assert the contrary
is to assume the whole question. The results produced by intelligent
volition differ completely in character from those effected by the
unintelligent forces of nature. The one follows an order of necessity: the
other of freedom. The affirmation that the results of the latter belong to
the same order as those of the former is directly contrary to facts.

Again: “the laws of matter are suspended by the laws of life.” If laws are
the invariable sequences of phenomena how is it possible that one law can
suspend another law? It is not even true that one force can suspend
another force. All that it can do is to neutralize its action. Physical
philosophy is constantly attributing to laws what can only be true of
forces, and even frequently ascribes to them what is only true of
intelligent forces. It must never be overlooked in this controversy that
the laws of nature can effectuate nothing. Forces, not laws, produce
results. The following sentence will be a correct expression of a truth,
if we substitute “force” for “law:” “The law of gravitation is overcome by
the law of magnetism each time a magnet suspends a weight in the air.”
Immediately after, we are told that the arm falls in obedience to law. It
falls by the force of gravitation. When theologians use metaphors of this
description they are charged with anthropomorphism. Such a charge is
equally valid against the language in which physical philosophy expresses
itself.

Again: The author affirms “that the solitary instance of an efficient
cause, if it be distinguished from the other forces of nature by the
possession of an initiatory impulse, is from the moment when that power is
exerted subject to physical laws like all other forces; and there is no
instance producible, or even logically conceivable, of any power whose
effects are opposed to the ultimate ruling of the laws of nature. The
occurrence of anything opposed to these laws is incredible.” p. 48.

What is meant, I ask, by “the intimate ruling of the laws of nature”? Even
if we substitute forces for laws, the meaning is sufficiently obscure.
Probably the expression is intended to mean the combined result effected
by the energy of all the forces in nature. If these include all mental as
well as all material forces, then the assertion is a simple truism, that
nothing can be contrary to itself. But if they exclude mental force, then
the results which they produce are clearly opposed to the ultimate ruling
of the forces of unintelligent nature. Numerous instances are not only
logically conceivable, but actually producible. The occurrence, therefore,
of anything opposed to the ultimate rulings of these unintelligent
physical forces is not incredible. It is perfectly true that man can only
produce results through the agency of these physical forces; but he can
modify their results, and so use them as to make them the means of
effectuating his purposes. It is quite true that nothing can occur opposed
to the forces of nature; that is to say, that, while the force of
gravitation is in energy, and no other force is present capable of
overcoming its power, the ascension of a human body into heaven is
impossible. But who has ever affirmed that it was possible? Those who
affirm that an ascension has taken place, also assert that another force
was in active energy, which was capable of counteracting the force of
gravitation. This assertion, therefore, is totally irrelevant to the point
at issue.

The consideration of the next question before us may very properly be
introduced, by quoting the following passage of the same author:

“Our highest attainable conception of infinite power and wisdom is based
on the universality and invariability of law, and inexorably excludes as
unworthy and anthropomorphistic any idea of its fitful suspension.”

This at once raises the very important question, whether there is anything
in the performance of a miracle inconsistent with the divine character and
perfections. It has been often alleged by those who deny the possibility
of miracles, that God energizes in the universe in conformity with
invariable laws, which express the uniform mode of the divine working.
From these, as the result of his wisdom, He will never deviate. To alter
or vary from this mode of acting implies that the machinery of the
universe, through which He acts, is imperfect. The supposition that He has
worked a miracle therefore involves the assumption that He has ceased from
one mode of action and adopted another; or, in other words, that the
forces of the universe fail to effectuate his purposes; or that the whole
machine has got out of order and requires rectification. Any action of
this kind in the case of a Being possessed of all power, is a reflection
both on his wisdom and his immutability. Still further: it is affirmed by
some that the love of order is an attribute so inherent in Deity, that it
is inconceivable that any alteration in the existing order of the universe
should take place under his government.

One objection raised in the above quotation I may dismiss summarily, viz.
the idea that God interposes with any fitful interventions in the
universe. The idea of fitful intervention is quite foreign to the
conception of a miracle, which is described in the New Testament as one of
the means by which he realizes his deliberate purposes. I shall elsewhere
disprove the allegation that Revelation is an intervention of the Creator
to rectify a miscarriage in his creative work.

It will also be desirable in this place to answer the charge of
anthropomorphism so frequently urged against the defenders of
Christianity. When they speak of God as a person, they are charged with
manufacturing a gigantic man. When they ascribe to Him a moral character,
or describe Him as acting in nature, they are then accused of making a God
out of a number of conceptions which are purely human. This fault, if it
be one, must be shared alike by philosophers, men of science, and
theologians. The plain fact is, that man has no conceptions but human
ones. To abandon these is to cease to think altogether. When philosophers
and men of science speak of nature, they are obliged to apply to it
conceptions which are strictly true only of man. We are obliged to do
precisely the same with respect to God. So far all thought, the most
elevated and the most ordinary, is anthropomorphic. The term can be fairly
used as a reproach only when certain material conceptions or degraded
passions are directly affirmed to exist in the divine mind.

The author, in the following passage, places the objection before us in a
still more striking light: “Being therefore limited to reason for our
feeble conceptions of the divine Being of which we are capable, and reason
being totally opposed to an order of nature so imperfect as to require or
permit repeated interference, and rejecting the supposition of arbitrary
suspension of law, such a conception of the Deity as is proposed by
theologians must be pronounced irrational, and derogatory to the wisdom
and perfection which we recognize in the invariable order of nature. It is
impossible for us to conceive the supreme Being acting otherwise than we
actually see in nature; and if we recognize in the universe the operation
of his infinite wisdom and power, it is in the immutable order and
regularity of all phenomena, and the eternal prevalence of law that we see
their highest manifestation.”

It is asserted by this writer and a great number of others, that the most
perfect conception of the universe is that of a machine, which when once
set into action shall go on eternally grinding out its results without the
smallest occasion for the intervention of its Maker. According to this
view, all the He has to do for the future after the machine is once set
into operation, is to retire from the scene of His creative work, and to
contemplate the results of its wonderful operations. Any intervention on
His part would imply a defect in the construction of the machine. It
follows therefore that the most perfect conception of God (if there be
one) is that of a perfect mechanist and chemist, who has originally formed
matter with its properties and forces acting in conformity with invariable
law, and that this has been done by Him with such perfection, that they
have gone on ever since evolving whatever has existed, without the need of
His intervention or supervision; or to put it in other words, after the
original act of creation, His presence in the universe may be dispensed
with as unnecessary. The universe is therefore a self‐acting machine which
goes on in an eternal series of self‐evolutions.

Such a conception may be the most worthy one that we can form of a perfect
mechanist or chemist, though it may be doubtful how far the idea of having
his services dispensed with for the future would be wholly satisfactory to
him. It is far from clear, however, that it is the most perfect conception
we can form of God. The creations of the mechanist and of the chemist are
destitute alike of feeling, reason and volition, a moral nature,
conscience, and spiritual affections. They may therefore when completed be
left to themselves; and the more perfect the irrational machine may be,
the more perfectly it will grind out its results. But many of the
constructions of God possess attributes, which exhibit other qualities in
their maker than those of a perfect mechanist or chemist. It follows,
therefore, that this is not the most perfect nor the most worthy
conception which we can form of God.

But it will be objected that even if we concede that the Creator is ever
present energizing in the works of nature, and even if the forces of
nature are viewed as the expressions of His energy, His action in
conformity with unchanging order is the worthiest conception of Him, and
to assert that He ever has varied from this mode of action is to degrade
Him. Such being the case, to affirm that miracles have been wrought by
Him, is to introduce a degraded view of the character of God, one alike
inconsistent with His wisdom, immutability and power.

I reply: that the objection overlooks the existence of purpose in the
divine mind, and that it may not be confined to the realization of a
mechanical result. The purpose or idea of creation in God includes the
production of both the material and the moral worlds. If this be so, one
harmonious purpose, including the divine manifestations, both in the
material and moral universe, may be carried out by a succession of
progressive manifestations, each forming a portion of one great divine
plan. A miracle, therefore, as a part of such a moral intervention, would
be no interruption of the orderly action of the divine mind, but a portion
of it.

But further: if God exists, He must have other attributes besides those of
a mechanist or a chemist. He has created not only the material universe,
but a moral one. God, therefore, must be a moral being, and a person, for
moral attributes can only be conceived of as belonging to a being who is
possessed of personality. It follows, therefore, that manifestations of
Himself, under aspects suitable to moral beings, are as much to be
expected as manifestations of His power or of His wisdom addressed to an
intellectual nature. The supposition, therefore, that all His
manifestations can only be made through the laws of material nature, and
in an unchanging series, and that it is not a portion of His purpose to
manifest Himself as a moral being, is only valid on the denial that He is
one. It involves the absurdity of denying to God that freedom from the
trammels of necessary law which as matter of fact He has bestowed on man.

If therefore God be a moral being and not an impersonal force, it is
perfectly consistent with the highest conceptions of Him, that He should
manifest Himself in the moral as well as in the material universe. This is
the more necessary, because philosophy is never wearied with telling us,
that we can know little or nothing of His moral attributes from material
nature. As a part of such manifestation a miracle is addressed to our
highest reason.

It is absurd to argue on the assumption that there is a God, and then to
found our reasonings on principles which are inconsistent with it. If
there is a God, He must be the creator of the universe. It must,
therefore, have been consistent with His perfection and immutability to
create. It follows, therefore, even on the assumption of the truth of the
Darwinian theory of creation, that a new order must have been introduced,
when God first breathed life into the lowest forms of matter. But if He
introduced a new order then, that is to say, when He first deviated from
the previous order of His existence, and performed His first creative act,
how can it possibly be contrary to reason to affirm that He has repeated
it. A miracle would be such a repetition, or, in other words, the
introduction of a new series of events.

I fully admit that reason is opposed to the supposition of such an order
of nature as to require repeated interferences with it, assuming that what
is intended is a frequent meddling with it to set it right, not constant
presence and superintendence. Still more is it opposed to the idea of
arbitrary interruption of law. The entire validity of these reasonings
which we have been considering proceeds on the assumption that the
argument requires this. I care not what some Christian apologists may have
said on this subject. The New Testament affirms in the most unequivocal
language that revelation is the steady carrying out of a pre‐determined
purpose in God to make a manifestation of Himself not only to man, but to
other rational beings besides man. The objection therefore falls to the
ground.

The assertion that it is impossible to conceive of the supreme Being
acting otherwise than we see him act in nature, may be met by a direct
denial. On the contrary the presence of evil, moral and physical, forms
the greatest difficulty connected with the belief in theism. The elder
Mill was so capable of conceiving that if a supreme Being existed, the
order of the universe would have been so wholly different from its present
order, that it led him to affirm that the proof of His existence was
altogether wanting.(3) But intelligent Christians fully recognize in the
immutable order and regularity of the universe and the eternal prevalence
of law, the operation of His infinite wisdom and power. Unless there was
such a general regularity and order in the universe, the evidential force
of miracles would be deprived of all value.

It follows therefore, whichever views we may take of the mode in which a
miracle may be performed, that there is nothing in the idea of it which is
contrary to our reason. Whenever it is affirmed to be so, the assertion
originates in an ambiguity in the use of terms, or in partial views of
nature, or of the mode of the divine working, or from confounding under a
common name phenomena so different in character as those of mind and
matter, or by making assumptions respecting the divine operations which
contradict the laws of the universe, or respecting the divine character,
which reason refuses to endorse. How far the known or unknown forces of
nature may be employed in the performance of a miracle is an abstract
question that we have no means of determining. The agency of some of the
known forces of nature is unequivocally asserted in the Old Testament to
have been the media employed in the performance of some of its miracles.
No such affirmation is made in the New Testament. Still there is not one
word to imply that any of the forces of material nature were for a single
moment suspended in their action. The only assertion made is the presence
and active energy of a force capable of producing them. That force is the
Creator of the universe bearing witness to the divine mission of Jesus
Christ. “The Father himself, which hath sent me, hath borne witness of
me.” “The works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works
that I do, bear witness of me, that the Father hath sent me.” (John v. 36,
37.)





CHAPTER VII. THE ALLEGATION THAT NO TESTIMONY CAN PROVE THE TRUTH OF A
SUPERNATURAL EVENT.


Hume’s position, which affirmed that it is impossible to prove the truth
of a supernatural event by any amount of testimony however strong, is
certainly one of the most plausible that have ever been assumed by
unbelief. Stated briefly and in his own words, it is as follows: “A
miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and
unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a
miracle from the nature of the fact is as entire as any argument from
experience can possibly be imagined.” Again: “No testimony is sufficient
to establish a miracle unless the testimony is of such a kind that its
falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to
establish.” The fallacy of these positions, notwithstanding the plausible
arguments by which they are supported, has already been pointed out by a
multitude of writers. Mr. Mill himself has practically abandoned Hume’s
argument as either a harmless truism, or, in another point of view, one
that requires to be modified to such an extent as to deprive it of any
real cogency. Under ordinary circumstances, therefore, it might be passed
over in silence.

But the author of “Supernatural Religion” has endeavoured to rehabilitate
it even against Mr. Mill. He affirms that Christian “Apologists find it
much more convenient to evade the simple but effective arguments of Hume,
than to answer them; and where it is possible, they dismiss them with a
sneer, and hasten on to less dangerous ground.” He then endeavours to show
that Mr. Mill has been partly misapprehended, and is partly inaccurate;
and he proceeds to address himself to Paley’s argument against Hume, as
though it was relied on by modern apologists as entirely conclusive. No
other writer is even noticed by him. In the recent work of the late Mr.
Warington, “Can I believe in miracles?” one chapter is devoted to the calm
and dispassionate examination of Hume’s argument. It is perhaps the ablest
dissection of it in existence. Yet this writer, who charges Christian
apologists with evasion, and even with getting rid of its force by a
sneer, has left Mr. Warington’s crushing reply to Hume completely
unnoticed. The position taken by him renders a few general observations
necessary. As it will be useless to repeat arguments that have been fully
elaborated elsewhere, I shall content myself with briefly stating the
positions which have been firmly established on this subject.

First: Experience consists of two kinds; 1st, That which has fallen under
our own direct cognizance, which from the nature of the case must have
been very limited. 2dly, The general experience of all other men, as far
as we have the means of knowing it. This latter experience we become
acquainted with exclusively by testimony, and it rests entirely on its
validity. The two together constitute what we mean when we say that a
thing is, or is not, contrary to experience.

Secondly: There is a sense in which miracles are contrary to our
experience. They would be destitute of all evidential value, if they were
not so. But while this is freely admitted, we must lay down clearly in
what sense we use the words. They are not so, in the sense that we have
had direct evidence of their non‐occurrence. They are contrary to our
experience only in the sense that we have never witnessed them, and that
the order of events which we have witnessed is always different; for
instance, we have witnessed as a matter of experience that men die, and
that none return again to life; or that blind men, when cured, are never
cured by a word or a touch. In this sense alone it is that the
resurrection of a dead man, and the cure of a blind man by a touch, is
contrary to our experience.

Thirdly: It is not true that an occurrence which in this sense is contrary
to our experience cannot be believed on adequate testimony. If it were so,
all additions to our knowledge that lie beyond the limits of our past
experience, ought to be rejected. Every extraordinary occurrence must be
at once pronounced incredible.

Fourthly: The experience of one age differs from that of another. That
which lies outside the experience of one century becomes within the
experience of the next. The truth is that the sum of human experience is
receiving continual additions, in proportion as the sphere of observation
enlarges. If it is true that we ought to reject everything contrary to
experience, it follows that if many of the inventions of the present age
had been reported in a previous one, they ought to have been rejected as
incredible. For example: if a century ago it had been affirmed that a
message had actually been conveyed one thousand miles in five minutes, the
assertion ought on this principle to have been rejected as contrary to the
universal experience of mankind. In an earlier age, no miracle could have
been more difficult to believe. Yet although contrary to prior experience,
it has been established as a fact. The principle, therefore, as laid down
by Hume, leads to an absurd conclusion.

Fifthly: The experience of each individual is limited by his own
observation and what he has learned respecting that of others. This
constitutes as far as he is concerned the experience of mankind. Now,
under the Equator the experience of man is that each day and night is
twelve hours long. Neither he, nor his ancestors, nor any person whom he
trusts, have ever had any other experience than this. To him, therefore,
the affirmation that there is a place on the earth where each day and
night is six months long, is contrary to experience, and ought to be
rejected as a fable.

Sixthly: If we confine experience to scientific experience, extraordinary
discoveries are made and facts established in one age which are contrary
to that of a former one. On this principle, the ground on which Herodotus
rejected the story of the Phœnician navigators that they had sailed round
Africa was satisfactory. It was contrary to his experience that they
should have seen the sun in the position in which they affirmed that they
had seen it, though it is not contrary to ours.

Seventhly: Miracles viewed as mere _phenomena_ stand on exactly the same
ground as very unusual occurrences, or very wonderful discoveries. As far
as they are contrary to past experience, they are alike credible or
incredible. They are events of which the cause is unknown, but may or may
not hereafter be discovered. It is quite true that any extraordinary
phenomenon requires a stronger testimony to render it credible than an
ordinary occurrence. But this involves no question of abstract possibility
or impossibility, but is one purely of evidence, each case having to be
decided on its own merits. It must be carefully observed that when we
affirm that this or that matter lies within human knowledge, or is
contrary to it, experience has to do with phenomena alone. All questions
of causation lie entirely beyond its cognizance.

Eighthly: The moment we view an event otherwise than as a mere phenomenon,
and take into consideration the causes producing it, however unusual it
may be, it is impossible to affirm that it is contrary to experience. When
we take these into consideration the entire character of the event is at
once changed, and the probability of the occurrence must be estimated on
wholly different grounds. Under such circumstances, an extremely
improbable event, which we might otherwise justly reject as contrary to
experience, becomes simply one of which we have had no experience. Thus it
is contrary to experience that men can live for one hour under water, but
when we take into consideration and thoroughly understand the contrivance
of the diving‐bell, the event becomes one of a different order from that
of which we supposed that we had experience. Before this apparatus was
invented, the assertion that men could live an hour under water would have
been rejected as fabulous. The invention has introduced a fresh condition
into the case. The event has now become a portion of our experience; but
prior to the discovery of the apparatus it was merely an event lying
outside our experience, and not to be rejected as being contrary to it. In
a similar way, a miracle, as a mere phenomenon, may be said to be contrary
to our experience; but the moment that we take into account its true
character, viz. that its very conception implies the presence of a force
of some kind with which we were previously unacquainted, then such an
event is no longer one which we can pronounce contrary to our experience,
but merely one which lies beyond or outside it. In the case of miracles,
therefore, the position of Hume is inapplicable.

Ninthly: It is not true that in estimating the truth of testimony, we
simply balance probability, against probability, as stated in Hume’s
argument. The form in which it has been put by him is too abstract to
admit of application to individual cases; nor does any man, in estimating
the truth of testimony for practical purposes, set down and deliberately
balance probabilities against probabilities. The whole process is of a far
more instantaneous character, and a number of minute considerations are
involved, which do not admit of statement in the form of general
propositions. Thus, if an event lying outside my present experience is
reported to me by a friend on whose veracity and powers of judgment I have
implicit reliance, I accept the truth of his statement, notwithstanding a
great degree of abstract improbability; it being assumed that the event
was one in which it was impossible that he should be deceived. In
estimating this latter point, we never balance the probabilities as to the
truth or falsehood of human testimony, but we consider the individual
circumstances of the case, whether they are of such a nature that our
friend could be deceived about them. If on consideration we are convinced
that deception was impossible, we yield assent to his known veracity,
although, as far as we know, the event reported by him has never before
come within the range of human experience.

Let me remove the question from an abstract into a concrete form. There
are numberless events in which it happens that men of unquestionable
judgment and veracity are deceived. There are others in which no deception
can be possible. An instance of one class is the alleged case of persons
living a considerable time without food. Here astuteness may impose on the
vigilance of the most wary. Take, on the other hand, the case of a man
born blind. One informant, on whose veracity we have the fullest reliance,
tells us that he has known the man from his birth; that, up to a certain
day, his blindness was established beyond all reasonable doubt to every
one who knew him, that on that day, he saw a person touch the eyes of the
blind man, who not only instantly received his sight, but could use his
eyes as perfectly as those who had enjoyed the use of them from birth. I
admit that this case is a supposed one, and does not exactly represent any
case recorded in the Gospels. But though an assumed one, it is perfectly
valid for the purposes of argument. In it deception would be impossible.
If all this was affirmed to have come under the direct knowledge of one,
of whose veracity and judgment we were assured, we should accept his
statement as true, without balancing the abstract probability of the truth
of evidence against the probability of its falsity, although the event
narrated lay outside the range of our experience. Our knowledge of the
judgment and veracity of the informant is the essential element in judging
of the truth of evidence. It is only when our means of forming this
judgment are deficient that we attempt to balance abstract probabilities.

Tenthly: The question of the truth of testimony as against past experience
and the alleged greater probability that testimony should be false, than
that past experience should be unreliable, is greatly modified by the
consideration that an overwhelming amount of the sum total of past
experience rests for its acceptance on the validity of testimony itself.
That portion which is not the result of our own individual experience
rests for its truth exclusively on the validity of human testimony, and
must be unreliable in proportion as testimony is invalid. It must be
observed, however, that I by no means deny that testimony is much more
frequently invalid in its narrations of extraordinary events than of
ordinary ones.

Eleventhly: While it is freely conceded that the evidence to prove the
truth of a very extraordinary occurrence must be far stronger than that
which is required to prove an ordinary one, it must never be forgotten
that the amount of evidence necessary to prove any particular fact always
varies with the amount of the antecedent probability of its occurrence.
The very same action may be credible or otherwise, just in proportion as
we can discern an adequate purpose for its performance, or infer the
presence of a particular motive. If, for example, it were reported that a
man of the highest character had been seen during the hours of early
morning issuing from one of the lowest haunts of vice in London, those who
knew him well would require an overwhelming amount of evidence to
establish the truth of the assertion. They would undoubtedly fall back on
the question of abstract probability, and argue that it was more likely
that it was either a case of mistaken identity (a very common error), or a
deliberate falsehood, than that the statement should be true. But, if, on
the contrary, it could be shown that he had been sent for to visit a dying
person, and had gone at his particular request, the whole of the
antecedent improbability would vanish, and the otherwise incredible
testimony would become perfectly credible. It follows, therefore, that the
credibility of testimony varies with our knowledge of the motive for the
performance of the action.

This consideration ought to have due weight in considering the evidence of
miracles. Viewed as mere phenomena, their abstract improbability is great.
When they are viewed as deviations from the ordinary course of nature,
their improbability becomes still greater. But those who believe in the
existence of a personal God energizing in the universe at every moment,
and in every place, postulate the presence of a force fully adequate to
work them, for this is involved in the idea of God. But the question
arises, Will He? Until a well‐attested miracle has actually been
performed, the antecedent probability derived from our experience of the
order of nature is against the supposition that He will, and throws on the
reporter the necessity of giving a stronger proof than we require for an
ordinary fact. But in proportion as we can show that it is probable that
God will make a revelation, the antecedent improbability of a miracle is
diminished; and if it can be shown that it is very probable that He will
do so, it wholly disappears.

It will be readily admitted that such an argument can only have weight
with a believer in the existence of a God, who is the moral Governor of
the Universe. To him, however, it is of the utmost value, for on the
supposition in question, the probability of some higher manifestation of
the divine character than that displayed in the material universe does not
rest on theory, but on the facts of man and his condition. Looking at the
past history of the world, it is matter of fact that God has made higher
and higher manifestations of himself. So far it is antecedently probable
that He will continue to do so. His last manifestation has been in the
production of a being possessed of a moral nature, with powers capable of
immense elevation. It is also no theory, but a fact, that this moral being
now is, and ever has been within the historical periods in a state of
great imperfection. It is therefore highly probable that the Creator will
adopt means for elevating the moral being whom He has created, and that He
will effect this by acting, not on matter, but on mind. Contemplating the
actual state of man, the known law of the Creator’s previous action, and
the moral character of God, the antecedent probability that God will make
a further manifestation of himself is established quite independently of
the facts or assertions in the Bible.

Twelfthly: Whatever be the supposed antecedent improbability of an
occurrence, it is capable of being overcome by an amount of evidence which
can leave no reasonable doubt in a mind endowed with common sense.
Theoretical objections may be adduced against any evidence which can be
brought in proof of particular facts, but the ultimate appeal must be, not
to a multitude of abstract theories, but to the common sense of mankind.
Of this character is all historical evidence. It rests on the same
principles as those which guide us in the affairs of daily life. There is
a certain amount of evidence which leaves no doubt on the common sense of
mankind, although it may be open to many theoretical objections. Such
evidence is capable of proving a fact against a very high degree of
antecedent improbability. Mr. Mill may be considered as a witness whose
predilections were all in favour of unbelief. Yet his clear logical mind
has led him to state the case fairly as far as the _à priori_ probability
or improbability of miracles is concerned. His conclusions are adverse to
the position assumed by the author of “Supernatural Religion.” I will
briefly state the most important of Mr. Mill’s positions.

First. He points out that a miracle involves nothing contradictory to any
law of causation. He well remarks that to prove such a contradiction, it
is not only necessary that the cause should exist without producing the
effect, but that no contravening cause should be present. But the very
idea of a miracle presupposes an adequate contravening cause, _i.e._ God.
The possibility of a miracle therefore cannot be denied on the ground that
it does not presuppose the presence of a force adequate to produce it. Mr.
Mill states, “Of the adequacy of that cause, if present, there can be no
doubt, and the only antecedent improbability that can be objected to a
miracle, is the improbability that any such cause existed,” that is to
say, the whole controversy resolves itself into the question between
Pantheism and Atheism on the one hand, and Theism on the other.

Secondly. He observes: “All therefore that Hume has made out, and this he
must be considered to have made out, is, that (at least in the imperfect
state of our knowledge of natural agencies, which leaves it always
possible that some of the physical antecedents may have been hidden from
us) no evidence can prove a miracle to any one who did not previously
believe in the existence of a being or beings with supernatural power, or
who believes himself to have full proof that the character of the being
whom he recognises is inconsistent with his having seen fit to interfere
on the occasion in question. If we do not already believe in supernatural
agencies, no miracle can prove to us their existence. The miracle itself,
considered as an extraordinary fact, may be satisfactorily certified by
our senses, or by testimony; but nothing can ever prove that it is a
miracle: there is still another possible hypothesis, that of its being the
result of some unknown cause; and this possibility cannot be so completely
shut out, as to leave no alternative but that of admitting the existence
of a being superior to nature. Those, however, who already believe in such
a being have two hypotheses to choose from, a supernatural and an unknown
natural agency; and they have to judge which of the two is the most
probable in this particular case.”

It is impossible to deny that this is a correct statement of the question.
Hume’s position is a generalized statement, that no evidence can establish
the reality of a miracle, on the ground that our experience of the
uniformity of nature’s laws is so firm and unalterable, that no amount of
testimony can establish a fact in opposition to it; or as he elsewhere
puts it, “unless the testimony be of such a kind, that its falsehood would
be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish.” He
affirms this to be equally true on the principles of Atheism, Pantheism,
or Theism, for the only thing that he takes into account is the inadequacy
of the testimony, and not the inadequacy of the cause. Mr. Mill therefore
says correctly that all that this argument avails to prove is, that it is
impossible to prove a miracle, except to persons who are already convinced
that a being or beings exist who are possessed of supernatural powers, and
that it is in conformity with their character to work one. If this is the
only intelligible meaning of Hume’s position (and it is evident that it
is), it reduces his argument against miracles to a very harmless one. The
conception of a miracle as distinct from an unusual phenomenon implies
purpose. Purpose is only conceivable of a being possessed of personality
and will. To those therefore who either deny the existence of any such
being higher than man, or who affirm that we have no evidence of his
existence, it is impossible to prove a miracle _as a miracle_. The utmost
that could be done would be to prove that an event had taken place in
nature which in the present state of our knowledge could be assigned to no
known cause. In such a case the Pantheist and the Atheist have always the
alternative of believing that the event in question must be due to the
operation of some unknown force in nature, but which in the gradual
development of knowledge we may hereafter be able to detect. This is a
position that no defender of revelation worthy of the name can be anxious
to dispute. Let it further be observed that Mr. Mill does not deny, but
affirms, that the occurrence of an extraordinary event analogous to a
miracle viewed simply as a phenomenon, may be satisfactorily certified by
our senses or by testimony. To affirm the contrary would be simply absurd,
as involving the stereotyping of human thought, and making the wisdom of
our ancestors the only standard of truth. There was a time when the earth
was believed to be an extended plain. If at that time any one had asserted
that by continually sailing westward he had at last arrived at the place
from which he started, or, in other words, had circumnavigated the globe,
this affirmation ought to have been rejected, not only as founded on
testimony contrary to all previous experience, but as intrinsically
impossible. Yet if Hume’s dictum has any value as an argument against the
possibility of a miracle, it must affirm the impossibility of establishing
such an occurrence by any amount of evidence whatever. Mr. Mill’s mind was
far too logical not to perceive that such a position is altogether
untenable.

Mr. Mill, however, affirms that there is one ground on which the argument
might be tenable against a theist, not because the evidence is
insufficient to prove the occurrence of an extraordinary fact, as a mere
phenomenon, but because it could not prove it to be a miracle. It is not
only necessary, says he, in order to render this proof valid, that one
should believe in the existence of a supernatural being who is able to
bring about the occurrence, but also that “the character of this Being is
not inconsistent with his having seen fit to interfere on the occasion in
question.” Thus a man may be a believer in the existence of God, and yet
be persuaded that it was not consistent with his character to interfere
with the course of natural phenomena at all, or in such a manner as the
conception of a miracle pre‐supposes. To such a theist the utmost that
evidence could prove would be, that the extraordinary event had been
brought about by the action of an unknown force. Again, the same principle
acts, and acts reasonably, on the minds of multitudes of intelligent
Christians, who summarily reject a certain class of reported miracles
without inquiring into their evidence, on the ground that the working of
such miracles is inconsistent with their conceptions of the divine
character; that is to say, they think it more probable that the stories
should be untrue, than that God should work in the way in question. But to
give this argument any validity against the miracles wrought in
attestation of Christianity, it must be proved that it is inconsistent
with the divine character to make a revelation, or to introduce a
deviation from what is to us the ordinary mode of His working; or that the
miracles recorded in the Gospels are repugnant to the character of God.

Mr. Mill’s general position is therefore incontrovertible, that those who
believe in the existence of God “have two hypotheses to choose from, viz.
a supernatural, or an unknown natural agency;” and that they must judge
which of these two is the more probable; and that, in forming their
judgment, a most important consideration must be the character of God, and
the conformity of the supposed event to that character. This position
every intelligent Christian will readily accept.

Mr. Mill adds: “But with the knowledge which we now possess of the general
uniformity of the course of nature, religion, following in the wake of
science, has been compelled to acknowledge the government of the universe,
as being on the whole carried on by general laws, and not by special
interpositions. To whosoever holds this belief, there is a general
presumption against any supposition of divine agency, not operating
through general laws; or, in other words, there is an antecedent
improbability in every miracle, which in order to outweigh it, requires an
extraordinary strength of antecedent probability derived from the special
circumstances of the case.” These observations require consideration.

There is no doubt that the polytheistic religions postulated the existence
of a vast number of superhuman beings by whose agency and caprice many
natural occurrences were brought about. Such a belief indicates a very
imperfect conception of “order” in nature. But these supposed
interferences with it would by no means realize the notion of what we now
designate a miracle, the very idea of which implies an order in nature to
which the miracle forms an exception. If there is no order in nature,
there can be no miracle.

The Hebrew monotheism involved conceptions directly opposite to this. It
viewed the action of God as the foundation of all the forces in nature.
Whilst above and outside nature, He was everywhere present in nature. Its
forces were the expressions of the energy of His will. Its order (for the
Hebrew recognised a high order in nature) was the result of His good
pleasure, and due to His constant working. In the Old Testament the
commonest events in nature are no less ascribed to God than those which we
designate miraculous. A Hebrew never conceived of a miracle as a deviation
from the divine order, but as a consistent carrying out of a divine
purpose in the government of the world. A modern conception of theism
differs from this in supposing that there are certain forces in material
nature which, when once called into action, go on energizing without any
direct intervention of God. But when this conception comes to be minutely
analysed, if we believe in a God, it is impossible to conceive of force,
at least in its ultimate form, except as a direct expression of the divine
energy.

Science has so far modified religious thought on this subject, that while
it still continues to hold that the various forces in nature are modes of
the divine acting, it nevertheless believes that God does not deviate from
his predetermined course for the purpose of meeting what we are pleased to
call special contingencies. The divine action is, in fact, not altered to
meet man’s convenience, and His government is carried on as far as it lies
within our cognisance by the general forces of nature. God acts in nature
in conformity with a definite law, and from that He will not deviate,
whatever consequences man’s ignorance or disregard of his mode of action
may bring upon him. Mr. Mill observes that to any person holding this
belief, there is a general presumption against any supposition of divine
agency, not operating through general laws. That is to say, we have had a
constant experience of his acting through general laws; and no experience
of his acting otherwise. But the idea of a revelation introduces a factor
into the case, entirely different from anything of which we have had
previous experience. It forms part of a great purpose existing in the
divine mind, and is in its nature analogous to the first introduction of
life, or the first creation of a free moral agent. Respecting the laws by
which God regulates his creative acts, we are ignorant. Yet the theist
firmly believes in creative acts of some kind, and that they are regulated
by law. In this ignorance of God’s law of creation, it is impossible to
affirm that it is antecedently improbable that in making a fresh
manifestation of himself, he will operate only through those general laws,
which are the ordinary manifestations of his will.

There is some want of clearness in Mr. Mill’s expression, that in order to
outweigh the antecedent improbability of miracles, arising from those
modes of the divine action which fall within the limits of our experience,
an extraordinary strength of antecedent probability, derived from the
special circumstances of the case, is required. If by this antecedent
probability he means something such as has been above referred to, there
can be no objection to his statement. He ought to have observed, however,
that the antecedent improbability which may be supposed to belong to
miracles, only attaches to them while contemplated as phenomena, and that
such an improbability readily yields to positive evidence. This is
virtually admitted in a subsequent sentence. “According as this
circumstance, viz. the unknown cause, not having previously manifested
itself in action, or the falsity of the testimony, appears more
improbable; that is, conflicts with an approximate generalization of a
higher order, we believe the testimony or disbelieve it with a stronger or
weaker degree of conviction, according to the preponderance, at least
until we have sifted the matter further.” “This,” says the author of
“Supernatural Religion,” “is precisely Hume’s argument, weakened by the
introduction of reservations which have no cogency.” We say, this is
precisely what Hume’s argument is _not_, for, if it be valid, the whole
question of miracles may be summarily dismissed without any inquiry into
the evidence on which they rest.

Still, however, as the author affirms and endeavours to prove that Mr.
Mill’s position leave Hume’s argument untouched, a few further
observations will be necessary. Hume’s statement is, “A miracle is a
violation of the laws of nature, and as a firm and unalterable experience
has established these laws, the proof against a miracle from the nature of
the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience which can possibly
be imagined.”

I reply, that the conception of a miracle does not involve any necessary
violation of the laws of nature. All that it implies is the presence of
another force different from those which have come under our cognisance:
and this may act so as to produce the miracle without violating one of
nature’s laws. But, it is added, “uniform and unalterable experience has
established these laws.” What has this experience really established? It
is this, and this only, Given the presence of certain forces, _and no
others_, certain results invariably follow. But experience cannot tell us
anything, as to what would be the law of nature, if some other force were
in action; nor is it able to say one word as to the non‐existence of any
force which has not come under its observation. Abstractedly, it is true
that the argument against a miracle is as entire as any argument from
experience can be imagined, because experience really supplies us with no
basis for argumentation in the case. Prior to the invention of railways
and the discovery of the uses to which steam can be applied, the argument
from experience was equally valid against the possibility of travelling in
a carriage not propelled by animal force. In each case a new force enters
into the conditions, of which experience is unable to take cognisance.

“Why is it more probable that all men must die?” asks this writer, “or
that lead cannot of itself remain suspended in the air; or that fire
consumes wood, and is extinguished by water, unless it be that these
events are found agreeable to nature, and there is required a violation of
its laws, or in other words, a miracle, to prevent them?” I answer that it
is probable that all men must die, because we observe under the action of
the known forces of nature that all men do die. But this says nothing as
to what must take place if another force was present; or a combination of
existing forces was discovered sufficiently potent to counteract the
action of those which in the present state of things bring about the
dissolution of man’s frame. There is no necessity, for the purpose of
effecting this, that one of the existing forces should be suspended. The
time was, when certain forms of disease invariably resulted in death. The
advance of medical science has averted this result. Ought the discovery to
have been rejected because it pretended to produce a fact contrary to
prior experience? Are any of the laws of nature violated, or are its
forces suspended in such a case? What has taken place? Man has discovered
agencies which have neutralized the effect of other agencies. Our belief
that all men must die rests on the assumption that no force can or will at
any future time be brought into action which will counteract the forces
now in operation by which that event is produced.

The same remark applies to the other three cases. To the second of them
the author has himself supplied the answer: “Lead cannot of itself remain
suspended in the air.” Doubtless, it cannot _of itself_. Who ever supposed
that it could? But it can be suspended when a force adequate to counteract
that of gravitation is present. So fire will always consume wood, or be
extinguished by water, as long as no other forces but the usual ones are
in operation. But man has already invented the means of producing
combustion under water. No violation of nature’s laws is required in any
of these cases. Nor is there any required in a miracle. The fact is, that
there is an assumption in all arguments of this kind, which for obvious
reasons is not openly avowed, but which alone imparts to them an apparent
validity. “No such force can exist,” which translated into other language
is identical with the proposition, “There is no God.” To keep this
assumption in the background, when the very basis of the argument for
miracles is the assumption that there is one, is a course which can lead
to no good result.

But the author remarks further: “There must, therefore, be a uniform
experience against every miraculous event, otherwise the event could not
merit that appellation. And as a uniform experience amounts to a proof,
there is hence a direct and full proof from the nature of the fact,
against the existence of any miracle; nor can such a proof be destroyed,
or the miracle rendered credible, by any opposite proof which is
superior.”

Here again we encounter the same faults of reasoning, which amount to a
virtual assumption of the point at issue. “There must be a uniform
experience against any miraculous event, otherwise it would not merit the
appellation—doubtless.” But what is the nature of this uniform experience?
Exactly this, that the ordinary forces acting around us being present, and
none other, the event has not, and therefore cannot take place. But this
is not involved in the idea of a miracle. It assumes the presence of
another force, viz. God. But what then? The objector will urge that we
have had no experience of the existence of any such force. Is it to be
urged, that no force can exist, except those of which we have had
experience, or any combination of forces now in action, different from the
present? The men of a former century were equally entitled to make the
same assumption. If they had done so, it would follow, that if the
discoverers of America had found our present railway system in full
operation, and reported it to be so, the contemporaries of Columbus would
have been justified in treating him as an impostor.

But the author further observes: “Mr. Mill qualifies his admission
respecting the effect of the alleged counteracting cause, by the all
important words ‘_if present_;’ for in order to be valid, the reality of
the alleged counteracting cause must be established, which is impossible;
therefore the objection falls to the ground. No one knows better than Mr.
Mill, that the assertion of a personal deity working miracles, upon which
a miracle is allowed for a moment to come into court, cannot be proved;
and therefore, that it cannot stand in opposition to a complete induction
which Hume takes as his standard.”

This passage strikes us as an extraordinary one to have been written by
any one who possesses the logical powers of the author. We are dealing
with a formal argument with a view of testing its validity, we have the
fullest right to test it by a supposed case. That supposed case is the
presence of an unknown cause, or an unknown combination of known causes,
or the presence of a personal deity. If the argument breaks down under the
application of these tests, it is worthless. Does the author mean to say,
that it is necessary to prove every assumption to be a fact, before it can
be used in argument? How about the assumptions in Euclid? I submit that
the reasoning is by no means vitiated by the assumption, and consequently
that by the application of the same principles of reasoning, Hume’s
argument falls to pieces. In one sense the words “if present” are all
important, yet it is not necessary to prove the fact in order to establish
the validity of the reasoning, which is entirely independent of the truth
of the assumption. Has the author never heard of contingent reasoning in
which both antecedent and consequent may be false, but the proposition
valid?

“No one knows,” again says the author, “better than Mr. Mill, that the
allegation of a personal God working miracles, upon which a miracle is for
a moment allowed to come into court, cannot be proved.” It seems then
after all that we are reasoning with a person who rejects theism; although
he has been dealing with the question on principles which assume its
truth. In arguing a question of this kind it is necessary to be
consistent, and take our stand either on the principles of theism, or on
those of pantheism or atheism, and not to fall back on either as the
exigencies of the case demand. Least of all should this be done by a
writer who charges the defenders of Christianity with shifting their
ground to suit the necessities of their argument.

But is the case correctly stated? No doubt that the conception of a
personal God is essential to it. But that of a personal God actually
working miracles forms no portion of it. If this were assumed, the entire
reasoning would be a _petitio principii_. We are considering whether
miracles are possible; or if, supposing one to be wrought, it can be
established by evidence. All that we assume is, that God _can_ work
miracles, not that He has wrought them. Whether we can prove by good
evidence that He has wrought miracles, is quite independent of the present
question.

“No one knows better than Mr. Mill, that the assertion of a personal deity
working miracles cannot be proved.” It is perfectly true that Mr. Mill
believed that the evidence adduced to prove the being of a personal God
was insufficient, and that respecting the origin of all things, nothing
can be known. But yet it is impossible to treat the existence of a
personal God as a bare assumption. “It is impossible to be proved,” says
the author. But to whom? To minds constituted like Mr. Mill’s. The
evidence that a personal God exists has appeared irresistible to an
overwhelming majority of mankind, including a great majority of minds
gifted with equal, and even with greater powers than that of Mr. Mill. One
might imagine from the mode in which this point is here represented, that
the belief in the existence of a personal God was exploded among all men
of intellect, and that the proofs adduced for it were unworthy of
attention. Surely the question of miracles has a legitimate place in the
court which tries the issue of their truth or falsehood.

One more point requires notice. Hume says, “Though the being, to whom the
miracle is attributed be in this case Almighty, it does not on that
account become a whit more probable, since it is impossible for us to know
the attributes or actions of such a being, otherwise than from the
experience which we have of his productions in the usual course of
nature.”

This position involves an evident fallacy. It is also one which underlies
one or two of the statements of Mr. Mill, whose philosophical theory of
necessity was one almost certain to involve him in it. The statement is,
that it is impossible to know either the attributes or the actions of such
a being, except from our experience of his productions in the course of
nature. What is the course of nature here intended? does it include mind
as well as matter? If the former is included, and we attain our knowledge
of God from that source—and every theist maintains that our chief
knowledge of God is derived from it—then the experience we have of man
leads us to infer the presence of certain moral attributes in God; and
there is nothing in that experience which renders the performance of a
miracle inconceivable or impossible—but as far as that experience is
concerned, it is rendered antecedently probable. What is included, I again
ask, in nature? Are _we_, the percipient beings ourselves? Whether we are
regarded as included or excluded from nature, it is evident that a
considerable portion of our knowledge of the divine character is derived
from the contemplation of our own being. God is more manifested in our
rationality, “personality,” freedom, and conscience, than in the material
forces and laws of nature. To perform a miracle therefore is consistent
with what we know of His character.

These observations will render it unnecessary for me to examine in detail
the writer’s observations on Paley’s arguments against Hume. Even if his
arguments are not perfectly conclusive, their failure does not establish
the truth of Hume’s positions, or invalidate the refutation of them by
others. As the object of this author is to re‐establish the validity of
Hume’s argument, he ought not to have confined himself to Paley, whose
mind was little adapted to the investigation of purely logical or
metaphysical questions, but to have noticed the argument of the numerous
subsequent writers who have more fully handled the subject.





CHAPTER VIII. THE OBJECTION THAT THE DEFENDERS OF CHRISTIANITY ASSUME
CERTAIN FACTS THE TRUTH OF WHICH CAN ONLY BE KNOWN BY REVELATION, AND THEN
REASON FROM THOSE FACTS TO THE TRUTH OF THE BIBLE, CONSIDERED.


It has been objected that the very idea of such a revelation as that of
Christianity implies a defect on the part of the Creator in the original
construction of the Universe, and that He has been under the necessity of
interposing for the purpose of correcting this defect. It is affirmed that
divines endeavour to prove that a revelation was probable by first
assuming a number of the most irrational propositions, which, if true, can
only be proved to be so by the authority of the Bible, and then arguing
back again that it is highly probable that God would interfere to remedy
the defects of his creative work by a supernatural revelation; in other
words, that they assume a state of things which reason would pronounce to
be incredible, unless their truth was asserted in the Bible, and then
argue on the principles of that reason whose validity they deny, that it
is probable that the Creator would interfere to remedy a state of things
the existence of which reason pronounces to be incredible.

The author of “Supernatural Religion” has strongly urged this argument,
and placed the difficulty clearly before us. Although the entire passage
is too long for quotation, yet as it is important that we should have the
question which he raises before us in his own words, I will cite a portion
of it.

“Here again the argument is based on an assumption. The supposition of a
divine design in a revelation is the result of a foregone conclusion in
its favour, and not suggested by antecedent probability. Divines assume
that a communication of this nature is in accordance with reason, and was
necessary for the salvation of the human race simply because they believe
that it took place, and no evidence worthy of the name is ever offered in
support of the assumption. A revelation having, it is supposed, been made,
that revelation is consequently supposed to have been contemplated, and to
have justified any suspension of the order of nature. The proposition for
which evidence is demanded is necessarily employed as evidence for itself.
The considerations involved in the assumption of the necessity and
reasonableness of such a revelation, however, are antecedently incredible
and contrary to reason. We are asked to believe that God made man in His
own image, pure and sinless, and intended him to continue so; but scarcely
had His noblest work left the hand of his Creator, than man was tempted
into sin by Satan, the all‐powerful and persistent enemy of God, whose
existence and antagonism to a being in whose eyes sin is an abomination,
are not accounted for and are incredible. Adam’s fall brought a curse upon
the earth, and incurred the penalty of death for himself and for the whole
of his posterity. The human race thus created perfect and without sin,
thus disappointed the expectations of the Creator, and became daily more
wicked, the evil spirit having succeeded in frustrating the designs of the
Almighty, so that God repented that he had made man, and at length he
destroyed by a deluge all the inhabitants of the earth, with the exception
of eight persons who feared him. This sweeping purification, however, was
as futile as the original design, and the race of man soon became more
wicked than ever.” Here follows a statement of what may be regarded as a
plan of salvation as held by some modern Churches, and the apparent
contradiction of the whole to the divine character and perfections is
elaborately pointed out. He then concludes as follows: “We are asked to
believe in the frustration of the divine design of creation, and in the
fall of man into a state of wickedness hateful to God, requiring and
justifying the divine design of a revelation, and such a revelation as
this, as a preliminary to the further proposition that on the supposition
of such a design miracles would not be contrary to reason.” To this
follows an elaborate piece of reasoning, by which the author attempts to
prove that every proposition in this so‐called plan of salvation is
thoroughly contrary to reason.

The general positions laid down in this passage (omitting points of
detail) are as follows: Certain incredible occurrences in the past history
of man are assumed by divines to be facts on the authority of the Bible.
These include the complete breaking down of the divine plan in the
creation of man through the agency of a being who has frustrated the
purposes of the Almighty. Next it is asserted on the same authority that
another series of events has taken place which are in the highest degree
contrary to reason, for the purpose of remedying this failure of the
original plan. Then it is alleged that the probability of a divine
interference, in order to remedy a state of things which reason pronounces
to be incredible, is argued on the authority of reason for the purpose of
proving the occurrence of another state of things equally repugnant to
reason. Such a line of argument is affirmed to begin in irrational
assumptions, and to terminate in a vicious circle.

I have before observed that the work from which the above passage is
taken, although entitled “Supernatural Religion, or an inquiry into the
reality of Divine Revelation,” is really an attack on the central position
of the New Testament, the historical value of the Gospels. In taking this
course the author raises an intelligible issue instead of spreading the
argument over an endless mass of controversial matter. If the historical
character of the Gospels cannot be maintained, the whole controversy as to
whether Christianity is a divine revelation is ended. This forms the key
of the Christian position, to which the other parts of the controversy
stand in the relation of mere outworks. If the events recorded in the
Gospels are historical, Christianity must be a divine revelation,
notwithstanding the difficulties connected with certain statements of the
Old Testament. The real point at issue between those who believe and those
who deny that God has made a supernatural revelation of Himself, is
confined to the following question: Are the contents of the Gospels
historically credible? Is the character of Jesus Christ as depicted in
them the delineation of an ideal conception or of an historical reality?
The author discerns clearly that this is the turning point of the
controversy, and has accordingly addressed himself to prove that the
Gospels are valueless as historical documents. This line of argument is
candid, and one which, if adhered to, will save an immense expenditure of
reasoning power.

Now the question of the historical character of the Gospels is quite
distinct from that of the truth or falsehood of any system of
Ecclesiastical Christianity, which asserts that its theology is a
deduction from the Gospels and the other portions of the New Testament. It
is not revelation itself but a system erected by the application of reason
to the facts of revelation. It is most important that this distinction
should be kept in view. The truth is, that the facts of revelation stand
in the same relation to theology as the facts of nature do to physical
science. Incorrect reasonings respecting both the one and the other are
alike possible. The Ptolemaic theory was propounded as an adequate
solution of the facts and phenomena of the universe, and although utterly
incorrect in all its parts, it for ages held unlimited sway over the human
mind. In a similar manner various theories have been propounded as
solutions of the facts of revelation, but it by no means follows because
they have attained a wide acceptance that they afford the true solution.
In examining the claims of the Gospels to be viewed as historical, it is
quite as much out of place to make them responsible for all the theories
which Ecclesiastical Christianity has propounded respecting the plan of
salvation, as it would be to make the facts and phenomena of the universe
answerable for all the theories which have been propounded for their
solution. In examining the claims of the Gospels to be accepted as
historical documents, it is most unreasonable to make them responsible for
theories which were not formulated in the Church until centuries after
their publication.

Most of the positions affirmed in the above quotation were not formulated
until a late period of the Church’s history. Certainly they are nowhere
directly laid down in the New Testament. The utmost which can be asserted
of them is, that they are alleged to be derived inferentially from its
teaching. They form no portion of the Apostles’ or of the Nicene Creeds,
which are the only formularies outside of the New Testament which can be
represented as embodying the creed of the universal Church. Nor can they
be found even in the Athanasian creed. In discussing the claims of the
Gospels to be esteemed as historical, they can only be made fairly
responsible for what they actually contain. To bring into such a
controversy positions only affirmed in recent attempts to formulate a body
of Christian doctrine, as though they had any bearing on the claims of the
New Testament to be viewed as containing a divine revelation, can lead to
no satisfactory result.

I now return to the consideration of the difficulties above referred to.
It is important to take a careful survey of the entire question, because
they are not only put with great force in the passage which I have quoted,
but I believe that in different forms they weigh heavily on the minds of
many thoughtful men. I will first offer a few observations on the general
principle.

Nothing is easier than to affirm that the introduction of moral evil into
the universe is a marring of the Creator’s plan in its formation. The
argument is founded on the supposition that an Almighty God exists, who is
wise, holy, and benevolent, and who intended to manifest these attributes
through the rational beings which he has created. It is affirmed that the
existence of moral evil in man is a failure of this purpose on the part of
God. But it is the most certain of facts that moral evil does exist in the
world, and that it exists quite independently of Christianity. The
objection therefore is not one directed solely against the Christianity of
the New Testament, but bears with equal weight against every form of
theism, which admits that the universe has been created, and is governed
by a God who is almighty, wise, holy, and benevolent.

If there be a God who is the Creator of the Universe, it is clear that He
must have been the Creator of man, and that man could only have come into
being in conformity with His pleasure. Now, if we decline to admit that
man was created morally perfect, yet as he must have been created a moral
agent, it is clear that the first man must have sprung into being either
with the moral faculties of a savage, or in some intermediate condition
between these and a state of moral perfection. It follows, therefore, that
man must have been made capable of moral progress. This is affirmed by all
those who assert that he was first produced in a savage state. But the
possibility of moral progress involves also the possibility of
retrogression. The truth of this is borne witness to by the most palpable
facts of daily experience. Men of the highest mental powers are capable of
abusing them to the worst purposes, and thus of sinking fearfully low in
the moral scale. The case of a man like Fouché will illustrate my
argument, a man gifted with high intellectual powers, but who sunk into
the lowest condition of moral turpitude. Such a man is incomparably worse
than the first original savage. I submit, therefore, that whatever view we
may take of the condition in which man was originally created, even if he
were created a savage, yet he was made a moral being capable of elevation
or degradation; and that, to use a human metaphor, the purpose of a holy
God must have been his elevation. Yet this involves the possibility of his
moral degradation. This degradation has also become a fact. It is clear,
therefore, that the difficulty is one which is inseparable from every
possible form of theistic belief, and is no peculiarity of Christianity.

I shall not attempt to enter on so profound a question as the origin of
evil, and how its existence is consistent with the perfection of a holy
God. It is a subject quite beyond the issue before us, and lies not at the
foundations of Christianity, but of theism, the truth of which is taken
for granted in the objections which the author adduces against the popular
view of the scriptural account; for if there is no God the objections are
valueless. Still he ought to have informed his readers that it is urged as
a partial explanation of those difficulties by the defenders of
Christianity, that it is highly probable that the creation of a moral
being possessed of free agency, but who at the same time is not capable of
sinking into a state of moral degradation, involves as great a
contradiction as the conception of a circle which should possess the
property of concavity and not of convexity. No rational man believes that
it is within the compass, even of omnipotence, to work contradictions. If
this be so, it follows that the possibility of the existence of moral evil
is a necessary condition of the existence of free agency. The production
of a free moral agent capable of yielding a willing obedience to the moral
law is a more glorious work than anything in the material universe, even
than that universe itself. It might, therefore, have been the good
pleasure of the wise, holy, and benevolent Creator to create free moral
agents, even if it involved the existence of moral evil. I am far from
propounding this as a complete solution of the difficulty, but when it is
thus used unsparingly against Christianity, it would have been only candid
to have told the reader that it bore with equal weight against every form
of theism, and to have given the partial explanation which has been
propounded by theologians.

In reply to the definite statements before us, I affirm that nowhere in
the Gospels, or in any other portion of the New Testament is it asserted
or even implied that revelation was rendered necessary by the frustration
of the divine purpose in creation, or that redemption was a kind of
afterthought in the divine mind rendered necessary by such a failure. On
the contrary, the synoptic Gospels make no affirmation whatever on the
subject. The fourth Gospel contains several statements about the end and
purposes of the Incarnation, but of a description totally different from
those which are alleged in the above quotation to constitute the
groundwork of Christianity. As I have already shown, the Gospel of St.
John speaks of its great purpose as being a revelation of the moral
character of God in the person of Jesus Christ. According to its theology
God has already manifested himself in creation; in the Gospel He makes a
still higher and nobler manifestation of His moral character in the person
of our Lord. The author of the first Epistle ascribed to St. John, whom I
must assume to have been the author of the Gospel, makes the following
direct affirmation on the subject. “That which was from the beginning,
which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have
looked upon, and our hands have handled of the word of life; for the life
was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear witness, and show unto you
that eternal life which was with the Father and was manifested unto us;
that which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may
have fellowship with us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father and
with his Son Jesus Christ.” In these words it is evidently the intention
of the writer to set forth the divine purpose of the Incarnation. It is
true that in other passages he assumes the existence of evil in the
universe, and declares it to be the work of the devil, and that one of the
purposes of this divine manifestation was its destruction. Still he drops
no hint of any failure in the Creation, or that it was the purpose of the
Incarnation to mend a marred scheme. On the contrary, the great truth set
forth in the Epistle and in the Gospel is that Creation and Redemption
form portions of one great whole; and that the latter is a manifestation
of the divine glories beyond God’s previous manifestations of himself,
whether in creation or in history.

Similar are the views of the Apostle Paul. According to him, while many
other purposes were effected by the Incarnation, there is one great
purpose running through all divine revelation. In several passages he
affirms that its influence extends far beyond that which it exerts on the
race of man. He again and again asserts that it was the gradual unfolding
of an idea or purpose which existed from eternity in the divine mind. Thus
he writes: “And to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery
which from the beginning of the world hath been hid in God who created all
things by Jesus Christ, to the intent that now unto the principalities and
powers in heavenly places might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom
of God, according to the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus
our Lord.” (Eph. iii. and ix.) “Having made known to us the mystery of His
will, according to His good pleasure, which He purposed in Himself, that
in the dispensation of the fulness of times He might gather in one all
things in Christ, both which are in heaven and in earth, even in Him.”
(Eph. i. 9, 10.) “And having made peace by the blood of His cross, by Him
to reconcile all things unto Himself: by Him, I say, whether they be
things in earth or things in heaven.” (Col. i. 20.) I fully admit that the
Apostle affirms that the design of bringing man into union with God was a
portion of this purpose. Nothing however is more foreign to the ideas of
St. Paul than that revelation is an afterthought adopted as a remedy for a
marred plan.

Nor are the views of the other writers of the New Testament different. St.
Peter tells us that the angels desire to look into the redemption wrought
by Christ. St. James assures us that, “known unto God are all His works
from the foundation of the world.” The author of the Epistle to the
Hebrews speaks to the same effect: “God, who at sundry times and in divers
manners spake in times past unto the fathers in (by) the prophets, hath in
these last days spoken unto us in His Son.” So far from its being the idea
of the sacred writers that redemption is an afterthought designed to
remedy the failure of the original purpose of creation, that both of them
are viewed as parts of the same whole; both are purposes which have
existed in the divine mind during the eternal ages, and have been
gradually evolved in time. Nothing is further from their mind than that
the divine mode of working is by fits or starts, or sudden interventions.
Man was the last form of life which God has introduced into the world, and
in that sense He is said to have rested from His creative work. But God is
no less distinctly affirmed to be always working in nature and in
providence, so that Sabbath days form no exception: “My Father worketh
hitherto and I work.”

Such being the views of the writers of the New Testament on this subject,
the whole of those objections, as far as they are founded on the assertion
that revelation is intended to remedy the failure of God’s creative
purpose, fall to the ground. My present supposition is that I am reasoning
with believers in theism. If God has gradually evolved creation, each
successive stage of the evolution forms a part of one great and
comprehensive whole. At each stage the work is incomplete, but its
incompleteness is no proof of failure. A period has existed when the only
beings in the world were devoid of rationality. If an objector could have
contemplated it in this stage, he might have urged that the plan of
creation was a failure, while in reality it was only incomplete. Man came
in at the next stage of the great design. The next stage, according to the
New Testament, is the Incarnation of the Son of God, intended as a higher
manifestation of the moral glories of the Creator for the purpose of
raising man to a higher moral and spiritual elevation. To the attainment
of this purpose all the previous events in man’s history have been made
subservient. Surely those persons with whom I am reasoning ought to be the
last to object that there is anything inconsistent with the divine
character in such a gradual unfolding of the divine purposes. We might as
well object that every advancing stage of the great design of Creation was
introduced to remedy a preceding defect as assert that Christianity
originated in this cause. The world was in a most unfinished state when it
was only tenanted by the lower forms of life, and great fault might have
been found with its construction. But a higher came, and a higher, then
man, then Christ our Lord, the second Adam, as St. Paul designates him,
“from heaven heavenly.” Whatever may have been the assertions of certain
classes of theologians who have attempted to fathom the divine mind by
their own short sounding line, the sacred writers take no narrow view of
the purposes of the Incarnation. It is declared that they will be realized
in the yet distant future, towards which consummation they are gradually
being carried out in time.

It follows, therefore, that the New Testament affirms that a purpose is
consistently carried out in the history of redemption far different from
that which has been here placed before us as the assumptions of
Ecclesiastical Christianity. The author has placed these in their most
objectionable form; and if Christian apologists have affirmed on such
premises as those above stated that a divine interposition was rendered
probable, I shall not attempt to defend them. To establish the probability
of a revelation additional to that afforded by creation we have no
occasion to appeal to theories, but to facts.

The existing moral and spiritual condition of mankind is universally
admitted to be imperfect. Both believers and unbelievers in revelation
alike acknowledge that the attempt to improve it is desirable. No less
certain is it that man possesses faculties which can only receive their
perfect development in a higher condition of things than the present.
These as much point to a higher development of man as the organization of
the lower forms of animal life points to the higher and more perfect ones.
If, therefore, God be the Creator and moral Governor of the world, a
further manifestation of Him is rendered highly probable.

This probability may be reasoned out by analogies in the history of the
past. Higher developments from lower forms have been the rule. Are they
then to cease with man in his present state of imperfection? How man came
to be thus imperfect, how his moral degradation has originated, is a
question which does not fall within the present argument. It is a fact, by
whatever theory it may be attempted to be accounted for. If a rational
being had existed in those ages during which there was manifested nothing
but the lower forms of life, and had come to the conclusion that the world
as it then existed was the work of an intelligent Creator, he would have
pronounced it highly probable that the resources of creative power would
yet receive a more glorious manifestation. When vertebrate life was first
introduced into the world, a careful examination of the state of things
would have led to a similar conclusion. But the lower forms of vertebrate
life are typical of the higher, and the higher point to man. Before man
entered the world a being capable of comprehending the condition of things
as then existing would have pronounced it highly probable that there would
be yet a further manifestation of creative energy, and that the work
required for its consummation the production of rationality.

Such and far more numerous have been the actual stages of creative action.
Are we entitled to call them a failure because they were relatively
imperfect, or any fresh intervention of divine power an interference to
remedy a previous failure? On the contrary, these so‐called interventions
are the persistent carrying out of a determined purpose. The acts of Deity
are inaccurately designated interventions. He is always working with the
most perfect knowledge of the means which He employs, and the most perfect
controul over them. Failure with Him is impossible. The word
“intervention” as applied to the operations of God conveys the idea of a
machine which He originally constructed, and then left to its own
operations. Such a machine will in course of time get out of order, or
perform its work imperfectly, and require to be supplemented by additional
contrivances. Thus when the clock ceases to go there arises a necessity
for the intervention of the clockmaker. He constructs his clock and leaves
it to itself. But creation is no mere machine; the Divine worker is always
present in His works. The last idea which would have occurred to the
authors of the Bible was that God was obliged to be making a number of
special interventions to cure defects in the results of His operations. As
the Bible cannot help using the language of man, expressions derived from
the defects of human language are at times used in it, but the one
prevalent idea is that God is always present working in the kingdoms of
nature and of grace, that all His actions are the constant carrying out of
a predetermined purpose, and that with Him is no variableness neither
shadow of turning.

If the possibility of the introduction of moral evil into the universe is
a necessary condition of the creation of a free moral agent, or in other
words, if the contrary supposition involves a contradiction, the Creator
must have viewed the production of such a free agent as so desirable, that
it formed a part of His purpose to create him notwithstanding this
possibility. If then moral evil became a fact, it involved no failure in
the purposes of God. He must have viewed the existence of such beings as
desirable, even if this contingency became a fact. Why, I ask, may not a
further manifestation of Himself, by means of which moral evil might be
reduced to the smallest dimensions, or even ultimately removed, while
freedom is still preserved, form a portion of the same great purpose of
the divine mind? If this be possible, the assertion that Redemption is a
special intervention of God for the purpose of remedying the breaking down
of his creative plan, is disproved, and with it all the other inferences
of the numerous writers whose views I am considering.

In affirming the probability of a revelation, the Christian apologist need
not go beyond the region of actual facts. He has no occasion to rest his
proof on any statement made by a supposed revelation the truth of which is
the point at issue. To do so would be to assume the thing which requires
to be proved. But facts as they exist, independently of any statements in
the Bible, are quite sufficient. Man exists. He is possessed of powers and
aspirations which this state of things does not gratify. He is capable of
moral action, and there is something within him which affirms that he
ought to obey the moral law. Yet its realization by him is of the most
imperfect character. Does the actual condition of man afford satisfaction
even to the unbeliever, account for it as he may? Is there not a great
amount of moral evil in the world? Do not considerable numbers of men,
instead of progressing to higher degrees of moral perfection degenerate
through various stages of moral corruption? Does not moral evil cause a
great amount of physical suffering? Are not vast numbers of men the prey
of ignorance and superstition—great evils doubtless, and of which
unbelievers heavily complain? In one word, when we contemplate the present
condition of mankind, does not the sternest reason affirm that it is
inconceivable that this can be the final condition of God’s creative work?
Yet these things are no theories but obvious facts, and on the supposition
on which we are reasoning, facts in the universe of God.

It follows therefore, that facts such as these, when contemplated by
reason, establish the probability, nay almost the certainty of a further
divine action. Of course this is based on the assumption that there is a
wise and holy God who is the author of the universe, but both the
opponents and believers in revelation can only argue this subject at all
on the supposition that God exists. Any fresh mode of divine action will
probably differ from the preceding ones, because man exists as a moral and
spiritual being. It is therefore probable that such divine action will be
moral rather than physical; or, in other words, the divine purpose of
creation includes within it a yet further manifestation of the divine
character and perfections. This is what the New Testament affirms to have
taken place in the Incarnation. This is my position.

I shall only add one or two more brief remarks. Those who charge
theologians with making unfounded assumptions should be guiltless of
making them themselves. The warning against falling into this error may be
profitably taken to heart by both parties to this controversy. It is
affirmed that the constitution of nature bears everywhere the indications
of systematic upward progression. I ask, is this systematic upward
progression everywhere true of man? Are there no where indications of
retrogression? Europeans generally during the last two thousand years have
progressed, although even this is not universally true, for some of the
fine arts attained to greater perfection in the ancient than in the modern
world. But has the Hindoo race progressed during the last three thousand
years? Have the Chinese? Is it not true that the progress of these two
races has been one of considerable retrogression? Where is the progress
made by the Negro races from the first dawnings of their history? Yet
these three races form more than half of the human family. Again, have the
Arab races progressed since the days of Abraham? Are the Mahommedan races
in a state of gradual improvement? These are questions to which a definite
answer must be returned before the proposition above referred to can be
esteemed a solution of all the problems of human history.

It will perhaps be replied that nature is gradually extinguishing these
unprogressive races, under the pressure of her inexorable laws. Yet they
constitute an overwhelming majority of the human race, and it is strange
to talk of this progressive improvement of the human race as a great law
of nature, if the mode of improvement be the extinction of the great
majority of mankind. But are the Hindoo, Chinese, Negro, and other
unprogressive races less numerous than they were three thousand years ago?
The evidence is all the other way. We want present facts and not theories
of the future. It has been affirmed, that “The survival of the fittest is
the stern law of nature. The invariable action of law of itself eliminates
the unfit. Progress is necessary to existence. Extinction is the doom of
Retrogression.” These assertions may receive their fulfilment in some
period of the distant future, but they certainly do not agree with the
past history of man. Whatever progress the European races may be capable
of, certain conditions of climate form an inexorable barrier to their
supplanting the Negro, the Hindoo, or the Chinese, and we know that
European blood in certain climates has actually degenerated.

Again, it is stated “that the highest effect contemplated by the supposed
revelation is to bring man into harmony with law; and this is insured by
law acting on intelligence, and even on instinct.” Where, I ask, is the
proof of this derived from the history of man? Is the moral condition of
the races above referred to higher than it was three thousand years ago?
Did the moral condition of the Greek race progress or retrograde during
the four centuries which preceded the Advent? Which was the more elevated
condition of Roman morality, that of the century which preceded and
followed the conquest of Italy, or that of the empire and its crumbling
institutions?

Again, we are told that “there is not in reality a gradation of breach of
law that is not followed by an equivalent gradation of punishment.” This
may be the case in some Utopia in which the author lives, but it certainly
neither is nor ever has been the condition of this world. Does villany, I
ask, always receive adequate punishment in this world? It has been the all
but universal opinion of mankind that it does not. Did not Fouché die
quietly in his bed, possessed of wealth and honours, and a darkened
conscience? Did not Philip II. of Spain, after all his crimes, die under
the delusions of self‐approbation? In a controversy like this the most
confident assertions will not supply the want of facts on which to ground
our reasonings.

It follows, therefore, that the assertion that the Christian argument
involves reasoning in a circle, or else that it assumes the point at
issue, is disproved.





CHAPTER IX. DEMONIACAL MIRACLES—GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS.


It has been objected that the admission which the New Testament is alleged
to make as to the reality of demoniacal miracles weakens, if it does not
destroy, the value of miracles as an attestation of a revelation. In order
to do full justice to the force of this objection I will state it in the
words of the author of “Supernatural Religion:”—

“The necessity of asserting the dependence of miracles on doctrines is
thrust upon divines by the circumstance, that the Bible narrates so many
cases of false miracles, and contains so many warnings against them.”

“The first thought which must occur to any unprejudiced mind is amazement
that an Almighty God should select as a guarantee of his supposed
communications signs and wonders which can be so easily imitated by
others, that there must always be a doubt whether the message be from the
kingdom of heaven, or from the kingdom of lies. It seems _à priori_
absolutely incredible that a divine revelation which is so important, and
which it is intended that man should believe, should be made in such
obscure language, and with such doubtful attestation. That heaven should
condescend to use the same arguments as hell, and with so little
difference in the degree of the power exhibited, that man can scarcely, if
at all, discriminate between them, is a theory of the most startling
description.”

“Does not the necessity of this theory of false miracles, of the power of
God thus placed on a level with the power of Satan, in a matter where the
distinct purpose is to authenticate by miraculous testimony a miraculous
revelation, rather betray the unreality of miracles altogether, and
indicate that the idea of such supernatural intervention originates solely
from the superstitious ignorance of men in ages when every phase of nature
was attributed to direct supernatural interference, and ascribed with
arbitrary promptness to God or to the devil? It is certain that as
miracles are represented as being common both to God and Satan, they
cannot be considered as a distinctive attestation of a divine revelation.”

After quoting Dr. Mozley to the effect that “Miraculous evidence cannot
oblige us to accept any doctrine contrary to our moral nature”—an
abstractly true statement, but quite inapplicable to the New Testament,
which no where affirms that miracles have been wrought in attestation of
doctrines—the author continues: “The assertion that evidence emanating
from God is in some cases to be rejected is a monstrous proposition; and
the evidential force of miracles is totally destroyed by the logical
inference from it, and from the double character of miracles as Divine and
Satanic; that God is not only capable of exerting supernatural power to
attest what is true, but that Satan equally possesses and exercises the
same power in opposition to God for purposes of deception. If miraculous
evidence is indifferently employed to certify truth and error, it is at
once degraded by such common service into contempt.”

These passages put us in possession of the author’s views, and perhaps it
would be impossible to state the objections more strongly. I have quoted
them thus fully, not only as embodying the views of this particular
writer, but as placing before us in a clear and distinct light the chief
objections which can be urged against the attestation that miracles give
to the truth of the Christian revelation, on the assumption that
demoniacal miracles have been performed, or even on the admission that
they are possible.

Before I enter on the general question, I must briefly draw attention to
the statements and assumptions contained in this remarkable passage.

1. The assertion that miracles are alleged in proof of doctrines, and that
divines, when the necessities of their position compel them, affirm the
direct converse of this, viz. that miracles are dependent for their truth
on doctrines, is an entire misapprehension of the Christian argument. Its
true position will be discussed in a subsequent chapter.

2. The assertion that the miracles of Almighty God can be imitated by
Satan is a gratuitous assumption. Nowhere is this affirmed in the New
Testament. On the contrary, our Lord uniformly declares that His works
were clearly distinguishable from the working of Satan, and could only
maliciously be confounded with them.

3. While the Bible speaks of false miracles, its language is quite
consistent with the fact that they were impositions practised on the
senses, like the acts of jugglers.

4. The word “miracle” is here used to denote a supernatural fact in
external nature devoid of all moral environment. I have already pointed
out the inaccuracy of this position; and shall have much to say on this
subject hereafter. To strip a superhuman occurrence of its moral aspect is
simply to assume the question at issue.

5. It is not correct that the essence of a miracle consists in the degree
of power manifested in the performance of the outward act. The performance
of a miracle does not necessarily involve a greater exertion of power than
is manifested in the ordinary occurrences of nature. A miracle is not only
an act of power, but it involves the elements of prediction and of
purpose.

6. The affirmation that the Christian argument involves the position that
heaven must condescend to use the same arguments as hell, if demoniacal
possession is supposed to be possible, is altogether inaccurate.

7. The Christian argument nowhere involves the assumption that evidence
emanating from God is under certain circumstances to be rejected. It is
quite conceivable that a real miracle may have been wrought, which was
adequately attested when it was performed, but that the evidence has
become imperfect by lapse of time.

8. Even if it be supposed that demoniacal miracles are possible, there is
nothing in that assumption which renders it necessary to take for granted
that Satan is allowed to ramble over the universe and work miracles at his
pleasure, and to imitate the miracles of God. The New Testament uniformly
asserts that whatever agency he can exert is a permitted one, which is
confined within definite limits.

In considering the question of demoniacal miracles it must be kept in mind
that the language employed by the writers of the Bible is invariably
phenomenal. They describe events as they appeared to the eye of the
beholder. Hence it by no means follows, when they refer to the arts of
magic and other similar practices which were so prevalent in the ancient
world, and say that the magicians did such and such things, that they
meant to affirm the reality of their performance. Their language is always
taken from the observer’s point of view. As far as he saw, they did so. We
frequently speak in the same way of modern feats of conjurors. Thus, when
it is said that the magicians brought forth frogs, the language is quite
consistent with the act being a delusion successfully practised on the
senses.

It is affirmed by the author that the Bible asserts the reality of such
miracles. I reply that it makes no such assertion, but merely describes
them as they appeared to the eye of the beholder. Its strong denunciations
of such practices is no evidence that they were anything else than
deceptions which the performers endeavoured to palm off for wicked
purposes. The precept of Moses, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,”
has been urged as affording proof that the Bible in unqualified terms
asserts the reality of witchcraft. Whether the art was real or simulated,
the sentence of the lawgiver would have been equally just, for impostors
who practise such arts for the purpose of delusion, are far more injurious
to society than many kinds of criminals who have undergone the severest
punishment. In the New Testament “lying wonders” are occasionally referred
to. The expression may legitimately mean one of two things, either a
supernatural act performed for the attestation or propagation of a lie, or
an apparent miracle, which is in itself a lie. It cannot be denied that
the language of the New Testament will honestly bear this interpretation.
I will quote the strongest passage to be found in it. St. Paul, writing to
the Thessalonians, in speaking of the manifestation of a great anti‐
christian power, says, “Whose coming is after the working of Satan, with
all power, and signs, and lying wonders, and with all the deceivableness
of unrighteousness, in them that perish, because they receive not the love
of the truth that they might be saved.” This language is quite consistent
with the idea that the works here spoken of were not supernatural, but
deceptions wrought for the propagation of a system of falsehood.

There can be no question that impositions of this kind have been
systematically practised in later times in support of a great system of
ecclesiastical power, and to attest doctrines in connection with it. But
it is worthy of observation that the demoniacal supernaturalism which we
read of in the New Testament, is not represented as having been employed
for the attestation of any system of doctrine whatever. Elymas, the
sorcerer, practised his art for the purpose of establishing an influence
over Sergius Paulus, but for aught that appears he was a simple impostor.
All the other cases of Satanic supernaturalism referred to in the Gospels
resolve themselves into cases of possession, or the occasional production
of a disease.

It is further to be observed that nowhere throughout the New Testament is
a miracle, properly so called, ascribed to Satanic action. Possession is a
phenomenon entirely different from a miracle. I admit that there is one
apparent exception, namely in the history of our Lord’s temptation. This
if it is intended to be a description of an objective fact, is undoubtedly
an instance of direct interference with the action of the forces of
nature; Satan is here represented as possessing and exercising the power
of counteracting the force of gravitation by transporting the body of our
Lord from place to place. As this is the one solitary instance in the New
Testament in which such power is ascribed to him, it demands especial
consideration. We are told that during one period of his temptation our
Lord was carried by Satan to an exceeding high mountain; and again, that
he was placed on a pinnacle of the temple. These acts involve such an
exercise of supernatural power as may justly be put in comparison with his
walking on the water. It becomes therefore a very important question
whether this account is intended to be taken as a literal narrative. The
fact of its being the only recorded instance of its kind affords a
contrary presumption, for if the writers had believed that there was
nothing in such interference with the physical forces inconsistent with
the ordinary course of Satanic action it is hardly possible that they
could have viewed this as a solitary instance of the exercise of such
power, especially when the case of the demoniacs afforded so many
opportunities for its manifestation. It is clear from the narrative itself
that the only source of information regarding the temptation must have
been an account given by our Lord himself to his disciples, as it was an
occurrence of which there could have been no witnesses. Otherwise it must
be assumed to be a mere fiction. It is also clear that the three
temptations into which the narrative is divided are intended to describe
three great crises through which our Lord’s mind passed. According to
Mark’s account he is represented as undergoing temptations during the
whole period of forty days. Matthew and Luke present us with the general
results of the entire temptation. If our Lord gave an account of it to his
disciples, there can be no reason why he should not have embodied its
results in a narrative form, as is the course which he adopted in his
parables. If the parables were not usually introduced with the formula “he
spake a parable,” we might easily mistake them also for narratives of
actual occurrences. But although this is the usual form, it is not the
only one, as appears in the parable of Dives and Lazarus. It is therefore
quite conceivable that on giving his disciples an account of the crises
through which his mind passed during the period of the temptation he may
have put it into a parabolic form, of which himself was the centre, as one
which would be most adapted to the level of their apprehensions; otherwise
it would have assumed the character of a number of abstract disquisitions.

But we are not left to infer from mere probabilities that the narrative
was not intended to be understood literally. One portion of it places it
beyond doubt that it was intended to contain a visionary or parabolic
element of some kind. In the account of the temptation to fall down and
worship Satan, it is expressly stated that the Devil transported our Lord
to an exceeding high mountain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the
world and the glory of them. The narrative of Luke adds that all this was
done in a moment of time, which shows clearly that it was not intended to
be from one end to the other a literal statement of facts. It is therefore
absolutely necessary to assume the presence of a visionary element
somewhere; the only question is, where, and to what extent? If we attach
the meaning usually assigned by the writers in the New Testament to the
word “world,” it is impossible to imagine that any amount of credulity can
have believed that there was any mountain from whose top such a view could
have been attained by the unaided power of the human eye. But further, it
is asserted not only that the kingdoms of the world were rendered visible,
but _their glory_; that is to say, the spectator was able to see their
great cities, their buildings, and all their signs of outward
magnificence, for the sight of their glory was obviously intended to add
force to the temptation. Yet even the most credulous people possess some
moderately correct idea as to the extent of view which the eye can reach
and would feel quite certain that without the interposition of a miracle
such a survey in a moment of time would be impossible.

It may probably be urged by some that the first part of the account only
is intended to be a description of an objective fact, and that the last
temptation was visionary. To this I reply that the entire narrative is
couched in language of fact, and the latter portion quite as much so as
the former. Besides, if the sight of the kingdoms of the world and their
glory was a visionary representation, then the reason for conveying Jesus
to a lofty mountain ceases, for such a vision might equally well have been
presented to him in a plain; whereas if we take it as an account of a
literal fact, it is clear that the reason for conveying him to the
mountain was to afford him an extensive view. It is therefore impossible
to draw a distinction between the two portions of the narrative.

Every consideration therefore proves that the entire narrative is either
parabolic or an account of a visionary transaction, precisely similar to
many of those described in the Old Testament, and not of an actual
occurrence. This being so, we arrive at the inference that nowhere in the
New Testament is Satanic influence described as interfering with the
ordinary action of the forces of nature, by a direct exertion of power.

It may however be objected that there were probably reasons why he was
permitted to do so on this particular occasion; but on such a question I
shall not enter. I shall only repeat that it is impossible to view the
latter portion of the narrative as an account of an objective fact; and
this being the case it is far more probable that the whole partakes of the
same character. At any rate it is the single instance in the New Testament
in which the possession of such power is ascribed to Satan.

This has a very important bearing on the argument. The author affirms that
the writers of the New Testament attributed to Satan a general power of
interfering with the forces of nature, and of working miracles which may
fairly be contrasted with the miracles of God. But whatever may have been
the opinions of others on this subject, it is clear that such opinions
were not held by them. If they had believed that Satanic agency was
constantly exerted in the affairs of the visible universe, there is every
reason why they should have invented numerous stories of this description,
and ascribed them to Satanic intervention. The writer to whom I am
referring, urges in the strongest manner, that the belief in magic, and in
frequent exertions of demoniacal power over the external universe, was
universal among the Jews at the time of the Advent. To prove this, he has
adduced a number of opinions entertained by the writers of the Talmud and
others, involving the most grovelling superstitions, and asserts that
indications of the same are to be found in the Gospels. As an instance, he
favours us with the following story told by Josephus, who declares that he
was an eye‐witness of the fact.

“Josephus had seen a countryman of his own, named Eliezer, release people
possessed of devils in the presence of the Emperor Vespasian and his sons,
and of his army. He put a ring containing one of the roots prescribed by
Solomon, into the nose of a demoniac, and drew the demon out of his
nostrils, and in the name of Solomon, and reciting one of his
incantations, he adjured him to return no more. In order to demonstrate to
the spectators that he had power to cast out demons, Eliezer was
accustomed to set a pitcher of water a little way off, and he commanded
the demon, as he left the body of the man, to overturn it, by which means
the skill and wisdom of Solomon was made very manifest.”

The object for which this and kindred stories are referred to, is to prove
that the Jewish mind was so intensely credulous and superstitious on the
subject of demoniacal action at the time of our Lord, that there was
nothing so monstrous, which it was not in the habit of accepting as fact.
We are also repeatedly informed that the followers of Jesus shared in this
unbounded credulity. It may be even inferred from the assertion before us,
that they were far more credulous. The argument which this writer adduces
is plausible, and it may be stated thus. If a writer like Josephus, who
was extensively acquainted with Greek literature, and the Talmudists who
belonged to the _élite_ of the nation, could narrate such follies as
facts, what must have been the beliefs of the vulgar herd? We must not
forget that the followers of Jesus were chiefly from the lower orders.
“The common people heard him gladly.” The inference which the reader is
allowed to draw is that they must have been addicted to yet more gross
credulity.

What were the reasons which induced Josephus, a man who had seen the wide
world, to relate this monstrous story I shall not inquire. One can hardly
believe that he was a dupe; his reporting it, however, no more proves that
such beliefs were universal when he wrote, than the existence of a wide‐
spread spiritualistic literature proves that a belief in spirit‐rapping
prevails generally among all classes of society at the present day,
although many of the believers in spiritualism belong to the educated
classes, and readily accept absurdities which the sound sense of
multitudes of artisans would immediately repudiate.

The argument before me tells in a direction precisely opposite to that
which is intended by those who have invoked it, and it is marvellous that
they do not perceive that it is destructive of their own case. I put it as
follows: If the authors of the Gospels entertained the views of demoniacal
agency which this author represents them to have held, their narratives,
which directly lead them to refer to that subject, would have contained
numerous references to stories of the type of that quoted from Josephus.
Let me illustrate this argument by an example. The Arabs and other
Orientals believe in the power of demons and magicians over external
nature. They consider this action to be of frequent occurrence. Their
literature therefore abounds with accounts of such monstrous
interventions. But the Gospels, with the exception of the history of the
Temptation, do not contain an account of a single marvel wrought by the
agency of demons on external nature. Demoniacal agency is repeatedly
mentioned by them; but it belongs to an order of phenomena of an entirely
different character. What, I ask, is the only legitimate inference? That
the authors of the Gospels were free from the superstitions in question.

Before going further it will be necessary to ascertain what is the precise
nature and character of that demoniacal supernaturalism which is
apparently asserted in the pages of the New Testament. Without doing so,
it will be impossible to form a correct opinion on the subject under
consideration.

The New Testament apparently ascribes to Satanic agency not only a power
of suggesting temptations to the minds of men, but also in certain cases
of depriving them of the supremacy of their wills, of enslaving their
intellectual and moral powers, of interfering with the use of their bodily
organs, and, in one instance, of imparting an unusual strength. These
phenomena constitute what is designated as “possession,” and bear no
inconsiderable resemblance to different forms of insanity.

But the New Testament also makes mention of lunacy as well as possession.
How far they were distinguishable from each other we have no sufficient
data to enable us to determine. At one time they are spoken of as the same
disease; at others they are clearly distinguished from each other.

The language of the Gospels seems to imply that some maladies were
believed to be produced by the influence of possession. In one or two
instances language is used which may imply that a bodily disease was
brought on by Satanic agency without actual possession. Whatever may have
been the belief of the Jews on this subject, it is certain that the cases
referred to in the Gospels are very few; and although the mention of
diseases is very common, nothing is said about their being due to
demoniacal influence. Not a single case occurs in which ordinary accidents
are referred to this influence, although such is affirmed to have been the
common belief of the Jews. In the Acts of the Apostles only two cases of
possession are mentioned, one that of the damsel at Philippi, and the
other the occasion when certain Jewish exorcists undertook to exorcise
demoniacs at Ephesus in the name of Jesus.

The former case is of some importance. The girl is described as possessed
by a spirit of Pytho, _i.e._ she pretended to practise the art of
divination by the inspiration of the god Apollo, and in many respects she
practised the arts of the modern fortune‐teller. Such persons were not
uncommon at the time. The Pythia at Delphi professed to prophesy under the
influence of a similar inspiration. Whatever may have been the real causes
by which this mental condition was brought about, the paroxysms were so
real that one is recorded to have died under their influence. Her state
when under prophetic influence, is described as one of phrensied
excitement. St. Paul is represented by the historian as addressing himself
to the spirit, and commanding him to come out in the name of Jesus Christ.
The powers of such persons were confined to diving into the secrets of the
future; but to other kinds of supernatural power they made no claims.

If the language here employed be other than phenomenal, it seems to imply
that in St. Paul’s opinion certain practices of the ancient world which
were far from uncommon, were connected with demoniacal agency. These were
usually combined with certain forms of religious phrensy, such as even in
the present day manifest themselves in connection with the more degraded
forms of religion. At no period was this class of phenomena more prevalent
than during the century which preceded, and that which followed the
Advent, when human nature was stirred to its profoundest depths.

There are also a few passages in St. Paul’s writings which seem to affirm
a connection between demoniacal agency and pagan worship. Whatever may
have been his own opinions on this subject, it is evident that the action
which he supposed to have been exerted was entirely mental. Not one word
is uttered by him which implies that he regarded this mode of demoniacal
action as involving a power of interfering with the forces of the material
universe.

Such is a general statement of the facts as they appear in the New
Testament in connection with possession, and demoniacal action. It has
been necessary thus distinctly to state them, in order that we may keep
the subject clear of all adventitious issues with which it has been
attempted to obscure it. That form of demoniacal action involved in the
supposed power possessed by demons of tempting men to evil does not fall
within the limits of the present controversy.

But the opponents of Christianity are not content to reason on the facts
respecting demoniacal action as they are presented to us in the pages of
the New Testament. They charge its writers with a number of the most
grotesque beliefs on this subject, for which the book itself furnishes us
with no evidence. This course has been taken for the purpose of fastening
on them a boundless credulity, and thereby destroying their claim to be
accepted as credible reporters of historical facts. I will cite one or two
examples of this mode of reasoning, in order that we may be able to form a
correct estimate of its value.

After having given a detailed account of a number of monstrous beliefs
gleaned from the Talmud and other sources respecting angels, the author of
“Supernatural Religion” then proceeds: “The belief in demons at the time
of Jesus was equally emphatic and comprehensive, and we need not mention
also that the New Testament is full of it. They are in the air, on earth,
in the bodies of men and animals, and even at the bottom of the sea. They
are the offspring of the fallen angels who loved the daughters of men.
They have wings like angels, and can fly from one place in the earth to
another. They attain a knowledge of the future by listening behind the
veil of the temple of God. Their numbers are infinite. The earth is so
full of them, that if man had the power to see, he could not exist on
account of them; there are more demons than men, and they are about as
close as the earth thrown up out of a new made grave. It is stated that
each man had 10,000 demons on his right hand, and 1000 on his left.... The
crush on the Sabbath in the synagogue arises from them; also the dresses
of the Rabbins become so soon worn through their rubbing; in like manner
also they cause the tottering of the feet. He who wishes to discover these
spirits must take sifted ashes, and strew them about his bed, and he will
perceive their footprints upon them like a cock’s tread.” Here follow a
number of the most ineffable absurdities, unsurpassed by anything
contained in the Arabian Nights, which I need not cite. The author then
proceeds: “Demons, however, take more especial delight in foul and
offensive places, and an evil spirit inhabits every private closet in the
world. Demons haunt deserted places, ruins, graves, and certain kinds of
trees. We find indications of these superstitions throughout the Gospels.
The possessed are represented as dwelling among the tombs, and being
driven by unclean spirits into the wilderness, and the demons can find no
rest in clean places. Demons also frequented springs and fountains. The
episode of the angel who was said to descend at certain times and trouble
the water of the pool of Bethesda, so that he that first stepped in was
healed of whatsoever disease he had, may be mentioned here in passing,
although the passage is not found in the older manuscripts of the fourth
Gospel, and was certainly a late addition.” Here follow further citations
of Rabbinical absurdities. The author then proceeds: “The Talmud and other
Rabbinical writings are full of references to demoniacal possession, but
we need not enter into details on this point, as the New Testament itself
presents sufficient evidence respecting it. Not only could one spirit
enter into a body, but many took possession of the same individual. There
are many instances mentioned in the Gospels, such as Mary Magdalene, out
of whom went seven demons (ἑπτὰ δαιμόνια), and the man whose name was
legion, because many demons (πολλὰ δαιμόνια) had entered into him. Demons
likewise entered into the bodies of animals, and in the narrative to which
we have just referred, the demons, on being expelled from the man,
requested to be allowed to enter into the herd of swine, which being
permitted, ‘the demons went out of the man into the swine, and the herd
ran violently down the cliff into the lake and were drowned,’ the evil
spirits, as usual, taking pleasure only in the destruction and injury of
man and beast. Besides possession, all the diseases of men and animals are
ascribed to the action of the devil and demons. In the Gospel, for
instance, the woman with a spirit of infirmity is described as bound by
Satan, although the case was not one of demoniacal possession.” The author
then proceeds to enumerate a large number of grotesque beliefs as held by
the Jews at the time of the Advent.

I regret the necessity which has compelled me to cite so lengthy a
passage, but it is absolutely necessary that the reader should be enabled
to see, beyond the possibility of misapprehension, the nature of the
objections which are urged against the historical credibility of the
Gospels, and the reasonings by which they are attempted to be supported.
The general principle that underlies them may be stated in a few words,
that the followers of Jesus and the authors of the Gospels were a prey to
such a multitude of degrading superstitions on the subject of demonology
as wholly to destroy the value of their historical testimony.

The effect of this passage with its context is to produce the impression
on the mind of the reader, not only that these absurd beliefs were
generally entertained by the Jews at the time of the Advent, but that they
constituted the form of thought of the followers of Jesus. It may be urged
that the object of the author is to prove the general superstition of the
times; and that he does not intend to affirm that it was shared in by
every one of the followers of Jesus. This may be correct; but if it is not
intended to be asserted that the followers of Jesus were the prey of equal
superstitions, the reference to this mass of credulity can have no bearing
on the present argument, and is simply misleading. To what purpose, I ask,
is it made, unless it is intended to implicate our Lord’s followers in
these beliefs? Unless it were so, the fact that others entertained them
would not in the smallest degree affect the value of their historical
testimony. But on this point we are not left to inferences; not only are
passages in the Gospels referred to, but we are repeatedly informed that
the followers of Jesus did share in these popular delusions.

The position, therefore, which is taken by the author is clear. His
readers are invited to believe that the followers of our Lord were a prey
to the belief in a number of ineffable absurdities respecting demons such
as he has enumerated. If this can be established, the conclusion is
inevitable, that their historical testimony is valueless.

Let us now consider the mode in which the proof of this is attempted to be
established. The authorities quoted are chiefly the Talmudical writers;
that is to say, persons who wrote as late as from A.D. 200 to A.D. 500,
are cited as the proof that such opinions were universally entertained by
the Jews in the time of Jesus Christ. Equally valid would it be to quote
the writers of modern spiritualism to prove that such opinions were held
by our ancestors in the time of the Stuarts or the Plantagenets. On the
strength of this and kindred evidence, such opinions are ascribed to the
original propagators of Christianity, and to the authors of the Gospels.

But this is not all. The only correct method of ascertaining the
superstition and credulity of any particular writer is carefully to
examine the contents of his book, and to note the various instances which
we find in it of what we consider to be superstitions; and then proceed to
estimate their value, and, if needful, to compare them with other
contemporary authorities. This course, however, is not that pursued by
this writer. On the contrary, he quotes the absurdities which we have seen
from the Talmudical writers, and refers in the midst of them to nearly
every passage in the Gospels which can be made to bear even a remote
reference to the views in question. I submit that such a mode of reasoning
is not conducive to the interests of truth.

A few examples of this mode of conducting the argument require notice.

After referring to a number of monstrous superstitions, he tells us that
the Jews believed that “demons took especial delight in foul and offensive
places, and that an evil spirit inhabits every private closet in the
world. Demons haunted deserted places, ruins, graves, and certain kinds of
trees. We find indications of these superstitions throughout the Gospels.
The possessed are represented as dwelling among the tombs, and as being
driven by unclean spirits into the wilderness, and demons can find no rest
in clean places.”

“We find indications of these superstitions throughout the Gospels.” To
this observation I invite the reader’s attention. Is it meant to be
affirmed that any indication can be found in the Gospels that the writers
believed that a demon inhabited every private closet in the world? Two
instances only are referred to in the text, in one of which the demoniac
of Gadara is represented as dwelling among the tombs, and as having been
driven into the wilderness; and the other the parable of the unclean
spirit going out of the man, and finding no rest when walking through dry
places. Do these two cases prove the truth of the sweeping assertions
above referred to? Does the parabolic representation that the expelled
demon found no rest in dry or clean places prove that the disciples of
Jesus believed that they took especial delight in foul or offensive ones?
Does the fact that the demoniac of Gadara had been driven by the evil
spirit into the wilderness prove that it was a universal belief that
deserts and graves were haunted by demons?

In proof also of these assertions we are referred in a note to five
passages in the Gospels, viz. Matt. viii. 28; xii. 43; Mark v. 3‐5; Luke
viii. 27‐29; xi. 24. Five passages are very few to justify the assertion
that we find indications of these superstitions throughout the Gospels. On
examining them, however, the five references are reduced to two, three
belong to the account of the demoniac at Gadara, reported by each of the
Synoptics; and two to the twofold report of the same parable as given by
Matthew and Luke! This is a very slender foundation on which to ground the
assertion that the followers of Jesus believed that “demons took especial
delight in foul and offensive places, that they inhabited every private
closet in the world, and that they haunted deserted places, graves, ruins,
and certain kinds of trees, and that we find indications of these
superstitions _throughout the Gospels_.”

Still more extraordinary is the next reference. “Demons haunted springs
and fountains,” says the author. To this he adds, “the episode of the
angel who was said to descend at certain seasons and trouble the water of
the pool of Bethesda, so that he who first stepped in was cured of
whatsoever disease he had, may be mentioned in passing.”

Why, I ask, mention it at all? Is the visit of an angel to this particular
pool for the purpose of working a miracle, a proof that the followers of
our Lord believed that demons inhabited springs and fountains?

But our astonishment at the author’s reference to it is increased when we
read the following words: “_Although the passage is not found in the
oldest manuscripts of the Fourth Gospel, and it is certainly a late
interpolation_.”

I must put the question again in real earnestness. This being so, why
mention it here? The author admits that it formed no portion of the
original Gospel of St. John, and that it is certainly a late
interpolation. Now the Gospel of St. John, according to the opinion of the
most eminent unbelievers, was not published before A.D. 170. If this was
the case (the author himself evidently assigns to its composition a very
late date) a late interpolation could not have found its way into its
pages until about the year 250, at the earliest 200. What then is the
nature of the reasoning before us? We are referred for proof that the
followers of Jesus held these opinions to an authority which the author
himself admits to have been a late interpolation, which could not have
been introduced into this Gospel earlier than 180 years after the ministry
of our Lord, as a proof that his original followers believed that demons
inhabited springs and fountains. Such reasonings furnish their own
refutation.

The exposure of one more fallacy of this description will be sufficient.
We are told that, “Not only one evil spirit entered into a body, but many
took possession of the same individual. There are _many instances
mentioned in the Gospels_, such as Mary Magdalene, out of whom went seven
demons, and the man whose name was legion, because many demons had entered
into him.”

I ask, where are these “many instances”? The plain fact must be stated,
that the two here referred to, constitute the only ones which are
mentioned as facts by the Evangelists. Besides these there is the parable
of the unclean spirit going out of the man above alluded to, who, when he
could find no rest returned to his former habitation in company with seven
other spirits more wicked than himself. It should be observed that in two
of the cases the number given is the mystical number “Seven”; and that one
of them occurs in a parable, the moral of which is, to warn the Jews, that
although they had got rid of the evil spirit of idolatry, they were in
danger of falling into the greater evil of Phariseeism and hypocrisy.

But to return to the argument. The great mass of the author’s citations
for the purpose of proving that the Jews at the time of the Advent, and
among them the followers of Jesus, were a prey to these grotesque beliefs
respecting the action of demons, are made from authors who are separated
by an interval of centuries from the ministry of our Lord. I submit,
therefore, that such authorities are utterly valueless to prove that His
disciples and early followers were a prey to these gross delusions. Nor
has he adduced an atom of valid proof from the New Testament itself. The
references above referred to have either been made in a most careless
manner, or have been used to assist in proving a foregone conclusion.

But let us suppose for the sake of argument that the Jews at the time of
our Lord did generally entertain these monstrous demoniacal beliefs: to
what conclusion, I ask, would such a fact, if true, indubitably point?
Credulous and superstitions people, invariably invent stories that are the
counterparts of their own credulity. This is proved by the whole mass of
existing mythology. Mythological inventions give us the precise measure of
the beliefs of those who have originated them. If then the demonology of
those who have elaborated these portions of the Gospels was of the
character that this writer and others assert it to have been, the Gospels
would have contained an embodiment of such demoniacal beliefs as those
which the author has so industriously collected, and has endeavoured to
fasten upon their writers.

Now the idea of demonology having been present in the minds of the
writers, it is obvious that they did not omit all reference to these
absurd beliefs, merely because they were outside the subject on which they
were writing. But while demoniacal action is repeatedly alluded to, it is
an undeniable fact that no stories of the description given by this writer
are to be found in them. The author therefore has furnished the most
conclusive proof, without intending to do so, that these forms of thought,
to whomsoever else they may have appertained, were neither those of the
original followers of Jesus, nor of the authors of the Gospels.

It follows therefore that this attempt to prove that the followers of our
Lord and the authors of the Gospels were a prey to such a mass of
grotesque beliefs respecting demons, as to invalidate their historical
testimony, falls to the ground, and that the data on which this has been
attempted to be established, afford proof on the contrary that they did
not entertain the beliefs in question.





CHAPTER X. THE EXISTENCE AND MIRACLES OF SATAN.


I fully admit that a difficulty is involved in the idea that a being like
Satan is permitted to perform actions which bear even a remote analogy to
divine miracles. I have already shown that the New Testament only
apparently ascribes to him a supernatural action of a very limited and
special kind, differing widely from our usual conception of a miracle. I
now proceed to inquire how far this limited action, thus attributed to
him, if we suppose that possession was an objective fact, and not a form
of madness, interferes with the validity of the attestation of miracles to
the Christian revelation.

The existence of a being like Satan is alleged as constituting an enormous
difficulty against the statements of the New Testament. A numerous class
of writers dismiss the idea of his existence as unworthy of serious
argument, and endeavour to dispose of it with a sneer. This world however
contains numerous analogous cases of very evil men endowed with the
highest mental powers, who have exerted the most injurious influences on
others. Their existence is a fact; and the difficulties attending it
cannot be got rid of by any kind of evasion. The objections that have been
urged in connection with this subject are not founded on the facts of the
moral universe as they exist; but on _à priori_ principles alone. It has
been affirmed to be incredible that Almighty God should have permitted the
existence of such a being as Satan; or if his existence is permitted, that
he can be allowed to interfere in the affairs of men.

In dealing with this question it is evident that I must proceed on the
supposition that I am reasoning with theists only. The whole question is
irrelevant on the principles of Pantheism or Atheism, or, to put the case
more distinctly, on such principles there is no greater difficulty in
supposing that nature has evolved evil beings superior to men in their
faculties and powers in some other part of the universe, than that it has
evolved evil men, who are gifted with high forms of intelligence in this;
or even that such beings should be capable of interfering in human
affairs. If Pantheism or Atheism is a correct account of the facts of the
universe, it is impossible to say what kind of beings nature may have
evolved in the past, or may evolve in the future from her prolific womb.

But if it is once conceded that a personal God exists, who is the moral
Governor of the Universe, the affirmation that the existence of such
beings is inconsistent with his attributes, is only another form of
asserting that the existence of moral evil is incompatible with them. The
ground of its existence has been a problem, into which the human mind has
striven to penetrate from the earliest dawn of thought, without ever
approaching to its solution; but into this question it is useless to
enter. In the present argument we are dealing with facts, and the
existence of aggravated forms of moral evil in the universe is a fact. If
there be a God, it must be consistent with his attributes. The real
difficulty lies in its existence at all in the universe of a God who is
all‐powerful and good.

But since it does exist, the existence of a being like Satan is a mere
question of degree. It is an unquestionable fact, whether we can explain
it or not, that many men of the worst moral principles have been gifted
with the highest intellectual powers, and have been placed in positions in
society which have enabled them to inflict the greatest evil on others.
History is full of such cases. The most extreme forms of human corruption
have been not inaptly designated as “Satanic.” If therefore under the
moral government of God it is a fact that such forms of human wickedness
exist; and if it is supposable, that there are other rational beings in
the universe endowed with higher powers than man, how can it be
inconceivable that they may differ in moral character, precisely in the
same way as men do; and that some may be eminently virtuous, and others
fearfully corrupt? It is clear that the difficulty centres in the
existence of moral evil in the universe of a God who is possessed of
almighty power, and perfect holiness and goodness. Why has He permitted
it? Is its existence a necessary condition of the creation of a free moral
agent? If so, might not the amount of it have been greatly diminished? The
utmost light that reason can throw on these questions consists of a few
very imperfect glimmerings. The fact is undeniable, that a large mass of
moral evil exists, and in very fearful forms. If there be a Creator of the
universe, it is plain that the present state of things must be consistent
with his attributes. The only mode of escaping from this difficulty is by
taking refuge in the vastly greater ones of pantheism or atheism.

Many theists, pressed by these difficulties, have attempted to evade them
by endeavouring to reduce the amount of moral evil in the universe, the
existence of which they cannot deny, to indefinitely small proportions,
and then affirming that it will be ultimately swallowed up in the ocean of
universal good. But the mere diminishing of its amount by no means solves
the difficulty. The real question is, how has it come even into temporary
existence? But there is also a still more grave objection to this course
of reasoning. It renders it necessary that we should close our eyes to the
most obvious facts. So far is it from being the case that the amount of
moral evil in the world is small, that it is very large. This fact is
indisputable. The whole course of history tells us that it has existed in
all past ages and in very aggravated forms. To try to get rid of the
difficulty in this manner is simply to close our eyes, and refuse to see
it.

But not only does moral, but physical evil exist. This is another
unquestionable fact, and its existence bears directly on my argument. Many
and vain have been the attempts to explain it away. It has been affirmed
that pain after all is no such great matter. I strongly suspect that those
who have asserted this, have experienced but little of it. It is true that
it may ultimately result in good under God’s government, but taken by
itself, it is undeniably an evil. Do not frightful sufferings abound? Do
not most painful diseases afflict our frames? Is it not possible to suffer
terribly from causes quite independent of our own conduct? Is not a great
earthquake a terrible calamity to those who suffer from its effects,
although it may be attended with beneficial results to those who do not?
Pains may be said to be useful warnings; but surely the warning might have
been given without the extremity of the suffering. They are also affirmed
to be the penalties of ignorance, and this may be partially true: but the
ignorance is in a vast majority of cases unavoidable. It is a simple fact,
that a great amount of physical suffering exists, the reason of which we
are wholly unable to explain.

But further: moral evil propagates itself, and inflicts calamities on
those who are not implicated in its guilt. Is it not true that men have
existed both in the ancient and modern world, whose actions have inflicted
the greatest evils on mankind for generation after generation? Can any one
doubt that descendants suffer for the sins of remote ancestors, and
children for those of their parents? Facts are facts, and they will not
become less so by our refusing to look at them. The evil wrought by such a
man as Philip II. of Spain, is a fact, and it has extended its baneful
influence to our own times. Is not a large portion of the evils under
which France has groaned, traceable to the misdeeds of two of her
sovereigns? These were quietly sleeping in their graves, when the evils
they had occasioned burst on the head of their guiltless successor. But it
is needless to quote examples. History is one long succession of them.
Whether we like it or not, the old saying is an accurate account of the
moral order of the universe as it exists, “Visiting the sins of the
fathers on the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that
hate me, and showing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep
my commandments.” These are facts which the theist equally with the
Christian must face, for they exist in the universe of that God, in whose
moral perfections both believe. I repeat, therefore, that the only way of
escaping from them is by rushing into the far greater difficulties of
pantheism or atheism.

These reasonings might be indefinitely extended. The result which follows
from them is clear, that if we attempt to reason from abstract principles
to the constitution of a universe, we shall produce one utterly unlike
that which actually exists. It follows, that as they cannot account for
the facts of the universe, as they come under our observation, they are
unsafe guides on all similar questions. Consequently they are unable to
show that the existence of evil beings possessed of superhuman powers, is
inconsistent with the perfections of God.

Nor is there any greater force in the objection, that if such beings exist
at all, it is inconsistent with our conceptions of the divine government,
that they should be allowed to interfere in the affairs of men. I reply,
that it is equally inconceivable, that God should have allowed a man, to
whom he has imparted the greatest mental endowments, and whom he has
placed in an elevated position in society, who lived centuries ago, to
exert an evil influence on the present generation. The difficulty that a
powerful influence for evil can be exerted by men on those who have never
seen them, and of whose existence they have never heard, is just as great
as the one under consideration. Yet it is one of the most undeniable of
facts, that men do exert the most powerful influence on one another, and
that such influence can be exerted by generations long since passed away
on those who live ages afterwards; and that it can be exerted
unconsciously.

I am far from wishing to deny, that the difficulty is a real one. On the
contrary, I fully admit it; and that it is one which our present faculties
are unable to explain. But it is one which is not peculiar to
Christianity, nor has it originated in it. The interference of superhuman
beings in human affairs for the purposes of evil, would be only another
form of the same difficulty.

Precisely similar reasonings to those which have been employed to prove
that the existence of a being like Satan is impossible, when they are
applied to other subjects, bring us into direct collision with realities.
There can be no doubt, that if the constitution of the universe had been
placed in our hands, its phenomena would have been very different. But our
function is a far humbler one. It is not to erect a universe according to
our conceptions of what is best, but to learn the order of that in which
we live, and to accept facts on sufficient evidence, however strongly they
may conflict with abstract theories.

I now proceed to consider the real difficulty connected with this subject,
and which has been very strongly urged by the author of “Supernatural
Religion.” It is this. “If it is conceivable that beings exist who possess
superhuman knowledge and power; and that they are capable of interfering
as the New Testament affirms, in the affairs of men, how can the
performance of a miracle be the guarantee of a divine commission? May not
inferior agents, who possess superhuman knowledge and power, be able to
produce results which would to all outward appearance be miraculous? Might
not an evil being, who was possessed of the highest intelligence like
Satan, perform such actions as would be equivalent to miracles, for the
purpose of authenticating falsehoods? All that such actions prove is the
presence of superhuman knowledge and power; but they would leave it quite
uncertain whether the power was divine or Satanic.” Such is the objection,
and it demands an adequate solution.

I reply, that if we view the question merely as an abstract one, it is
quite possible, if a superhuman being of high intelligence is permitted to
interfere in the affairs of men, that he should be able to perform actions
which might have all the appearance of being supernatural. Such results
might be even brought about by a superior acquaintance with the existing
forces of nature, and by a successful combination of them, without the
introduction of any new force whatever. For such results we need not
invoke the aid of a supernatural being. They have been frequently effected
by a superior human intelligence acting on an inferior one. We all know
how Columbus used his superior knowledge of astronomy, to predict an
eclipse, and the ignorant natives of America mistook this as denoting the
presence of a superhuman being. Such results may be always produced, when
superior knowledge acts on ignorance; and such is the origin of no
inconsiderable number of impositions which have been practised on mankind.
It is therefore quite conceivable, as an abstract question, that as men
who possess a very superior intelligence, are capable of producing results
which to an inferior intelligence would have the appearance of being
supernatural, without really being so, in the same manner, if Satan is
supposed to possess an intelligence greater than that of the wisest of
mankind, and if his interference in human affairs is permitted, he may be
able to perform actions which would have the appearance of being
supernatural, by a skilful use of the existing forces of nature.

But to such power there must be a limit. There are certain results which
plainly lie beyond the power of any mere combination of the forces of
nature to produce. Of these, many of the miracles recorded in the Gospels
are instances, such as the cure of blind or leprous men by no other
visible instrumentality than a word or a touch. Actions of this kind
differ wholly in character from those which we are now considering. If a
miracle was a more objective fact taking place in external nature, and
nothing more, it might be open to question whether its performance was
owing to supernatural agency, or to some combination of known or unknown
forces. But the miracles with which we are concerned in this controversy,
involve a great deal more than more objective facts in material nature.

But assuming, as I cannot help doing in an argument like the present, the
existence of a God, who is the Creator and Governor of the universe, the
question is not a mere abstract one, what a Being like Satan, if he is
supposed to exist, might be capable of doing; but it becomes entirely one
of permitted agency. It is plain, that if there is a God, every being in
the universe, however powerful or intelligent, can only act within a
certain definite sphere of operation, which the Governor of the universe
has assigned to him. Within what limits then is he allowed act? Are
subordinate agents permitted to interfere with the material forces of
external nature? and if so, within what bounds? Can they wander over the
universe at their mere will and pleasure, and interfere with its
operations? How far is their interference permitted in the moral and
spiritual worlds? The question before as is even reduced to one of far
narrower limits. Our only direct knowledge of the existence of such an
agency is derived from Revelation. The real point therefore which concerns
us is, to what extent is such permitted agency affirmed in the New
Testament. Do the Satanic interventions there described interfere with
divine miracles as attestations of a divine commission? We have nothing
whatever to do with abstract propositions or with what Rabbinical writers
may have affirmed on this subject, but with the assertions of the New
Testament alone.

If there is a God, it is certain that the present order of nature must be
a manifestation of His will. So must be the energy of its forces in
conformity with invariable law. Whatever power He has delegated to
subordinate agents, must form a portion of this universal order, and be
exercised in conformity with the divine purposes. It is inconceivable that
subordinate agents can be allowed to break in upon it at their will and
pleasure, for the general permanence of its order forms an essential
condition for the exercise of moral agency. If they are allowed to do so,
it must be only within clear and definite limits, which ultimately
effectuate the purposes of the Creator. Such is the nature of the power
which man can exert over material nature. It can only modify results, by
giving a new direction to its forces. In the case of man this power is
limited to the world in which he lives. In a similar manner, if beings
superior to him in power and intelligence exist, their interference must
be subject to definite limitations. Such is the uniform affirmation of the
writers of the New Testament. Even if we take their language in the most
literal sense, the supernatural interventions which they attribute to
Satan, are confined to a very definite order of phenomena. In one word,
the sacred writers have described Satanic intervention as limited to the
world of mind; and as capable, through its action on the mind, of
producing certain results on the bodily organization. To this there is one
exception, the apparent ascription of a few diseases to Satanic agency.
This I shall consider hereafter.

It is a remarkable fact, and one worthy of particular attention, that the
supernatural action attributed to Satan in the New Testament, with the
exception above referred to, is a mental one. It is through the action on
men’s minds alone, that demoniacal agency produces any results on their
bodily frame. No direct action on the material forces of nature is ever
attributed to it. We find nothing in the smallest degree resembling the
act of a demon overturning a pitcher of water. The kind of influence
attributed to Satan is of a similar character, though much higher in
degree, to that which one man can exert over another. One man of superior
mental power is capable of exerting an influence over a weaker mind to
such a degree, as almost to enthral it. We call this a species of
fascination. In the New Testament the similar but mightier Satanic
influence is Possession. One mind, by getting a powerful hold on another,
can exert an influence on the body, as in mesmerism. The Satanic influence
exerted in possession is only a more powerful one.

It is certain that the extent to which one human mind can act on another
is bounded by no narrow limits; what is more, it is one which is
frequently exerted for evil. It is evidently within the purposes of the
Creator to permit this. Why it is allowed to the extent to which it is, is
beyond our powers to discover. But the wide extent to which it not only
can be, but actually is exerted, is a fact that cannot be denied. It is
also an influence that can be exerted secretly. The difference between
this power and that which is supposed to be attributed to Satan in the New
Testament is far more one of degree than of kind; and the latter is one
which is bounded by clear and definite limits. Between a Satanic
possession and a miracle performed by Jesus the distinction is
unmistakable.

It follows from the foregoing considerations, that the Satanic
supernaturalism, which we have to consider, as far as if stands in
opposition to the miracles of God, is reduced to very narrow limits. It
consists almost exclusively of possession and its phenomena. No other kind
of action bearing even a remote analogy to a miracle, with the single
exception of the history of the temptation, is anywhere attributed to
Satan in the New Testament.

In estimating the evidential character of miracles, it has been a far too
common practice with those who deny the historical character of the
Gospels, to keep out of view their moral aspect as an important portion of
their evidential value. It has been affirmed that a miracle must be
estimated as an act of power quite apart from its moral impress. The
author before me even goes the length of supposing, that, if Satan is as
cunning as he is represented in the New Testament, he may even turn
himself into an angel of light and perform works bearing the impress of
holiness for the purpose of furthering the interests of the kingdom of
lies.

Such an idea receives no countenance from anything which is affirmed by
St. Paul. The passage in which allusion is made to Satan transforming
himself into an angel of light is as follows: “For such are false
apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of
Christ. And no marvel, for Satan himself is transformed into an angel of
light. Therefore it is no great thing if his ministers should be
transformed as the ministers of righteousness.” It is quite clear that
nothing was further from the Apostle’s mind than the idea of Satanic
miracles bearing the impress of holiness as wrought in support of the
kingdom of falsehood. He is simply speaking of Judaizing teachers, who
claimed the support of apostolical authority, for the purpose of
disseminating their unchristian views.

The idea is absurd and ridiculous, but we know that it occurred to the
opponents of our Lord, who charged him with working miracles by Satanic
agency. The special instance in which they made this charge was that of
his supposed expulsion of demons. Our Lord met it by the decisive
argument, “How can Satan cast out Satan? If Satan be divided against
himself, how shall his kingdom stand?” In a word, he appealed to the moral
aspect of his miracles as a convincing proof that their accusation could
only have been instigated by deliberate malice.

The same objection was doubtless urged against his other miracles,
although it is nowhere stated in express terms in the Gospels. But
whatever absurd beliefs may have been entertained by the learned Rabbis,
they were easily met by the common sense of the people. “We know,” said
the Rabbis, “that this man is a sinner.” “How can a man that is a sinner
perform such miracles?” is the reply. “Whether he be a sinner, I know not,
but one thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.” “Can a devil
open the eyes of the blind?” It is evident that the difficulties suggested
by the author of “Supernatural Religion” as to the evidential value of
miracles being nullified by the views which prevailed respecting
demoniacal action were not appreciated when the fourth Gospel was
composed, although according to this theory they ought to have been at
that time in full force. But apart from the peculiar character ascribed to
Satanic supernaturalism in the New Testament, the entire idea that there
could have been any danger of confounding Satanic miracles with the
miracles of God, rests on the fallacy of confounding a mere objective fact
with an action of a moral agent. A miracle does not consist merely in the
outward event, which is caused by him, but in the occurrence united with
the character and purpose of the agent. The actions of holy beings must
bear the impress of their holiness; those of evil ones, of the contrary.
If, therefore, evil moral agents are capable of performing actions which
are analogous to miracles, they cannot fail to be stamped with the evil of
their characters. Such would always form a discriminating mark between
Divine and Satanic miracles, even on the supposition that the latter are
possible.

This precisely represents the case as it stands in the New Testament. All
the miracles alleged to have been wrought by God, bear a definite impress
of character and purpose. The supernaturalism ascribed to Satan is no less
definitely marked. The one clearly comes from above. The indications that
the other, if real, must have come from below, are equally distinct. The
moral impress which the two series of events bear, is fully sufficient to
discriminate the one from the other.

The attempt to distinguish between the miraculous act and its moral
environment, is absurd. It has been affirmed that one miraculous act is as
good as another, quite apart from the circumstances with which they are
attended. Such a principle would destroy the distinction between a highly
meritorious act and the foulest crime. A, for example, has killed B. The
outward act may be the same; but the accompanying circumstances make all
the distinction between a justifiable homicide, and a most atrocious
murder. It is ridiculous to affirm that principles which are legitimate in
common life become invalid only when they are applied to the evidences of
Christianity. Why, in the name of common sense, may not one miracle be as
clearly distinguishable from another by its moral environment, as an event
in ordinary life is similarly distinguished? The affirmation, therefore,
that the supposition of the possibility of Satanic miracles must
invalidate the miracles of God is absurd.

Our Lord, therefore, was right in appealing to the character of his works
as affording a conclusive proof of the source whence they originated, and
in contrasting them with the species of supernaturalism which was
popularly attributed to Satan. “How can Satan cast out Satan? If I do not
the works of my Father, believe me not; but if I do, though ye believe not
me, believe the works, that ye may see and believe that the Father is in
me and I in Him.”

This is conclusive reasoning. It is only possible to darken the question
by treating it as one of bare possibilities, as to what kind of actions a
being like Satan might be capable of performing, if he is allowed to
interfere with the arrangements of the universe at his pleasure. Such a
supposition is foreign to the question at issue, which is whether the
supernaturalism which the New Testament is supposed to attribute to him
can interfere with the evidential value of the miracles wrought by Jesus.
My reply is, Examine and compare the two. When this has been done, no
doubt can remain on any reasonable mind that the latter, if real, are from
above; and the former from below. The affirmation therefore that if
Satanic miracles, such as possession, are possible, it invalidates the
evidence of those wrought by God in attestation of the truth of a divine
commission is disproved.

Equally invalid is the objection against a miraculous attestation to a
divine commission, on the ground that such testimony can be easily
imitated. I reply, that the great mass of the miracles recorded in the New
Testament do not easily admit of a fraudulent imitation. I by no means
deny that the art of legerdemain is capable of producing results which to
an ignorant observer have the appearance of being supernatural. But this
class of actions bears not the smallest analogy to the miracles recorded
in the New Testament. No art of legerdemain can persuade a man who has
been for many years blind to believe that he has recovered his sight, and
enable him to act accordingly.

But it has been argued; if God is the moral Governor of the universe, is
He not bound to prevent a being like Satan from acting for the purposes of
evil in the affairs of men? This question may be best answered by asking
another. Is He not equally bound to hinder evil men from exerting such
terrible influences on others, even long after they are dead? Is He not
bound to hinder the possibility of the bringing up of children by their
parents in various forms of vice, so as to render them in after life, more
wicked than themselves? Yet it is an indubitable fact that such an
influence is exerted under the moral government of God. Human life abounds
with such cases, which bear a close analogy to Satanic action exerted in
the affairs of men. When we can fully fathom the reason for the permission
of the one, we shall have made considerable progress in understanding
those of the other. The case may be simply stated. There are difficulties
in the moral government of the universe, into the grounds of which we
cannot penetrate. These press equally on every form of theism. The Satanic
supernaturalism described in the New Testament presents a precisely
analogous difficulty. This therefore can form no reason why one who
believes that God is the moral Governor of the universe, as it now exists,
should reject Christianity because the difficulties are of a similar
order, and press equally on both. The only escape from them, as I have
already said, is the inevitable position assumed by atheism, or pantheism,
and the dreary prospect which they afford to the aspirations of the human
mind.





CHAPTER XI. POSSESSION: IS THE THEORY THAT IT WAS MADNESS SUBVERSIVE OF
THE HISTORICAL VALUE OF THE GOSPELS OR INCONSISTENT WITH THE VERACITY OF
CHRIST?


There can be no doubt that the subject of possession is attended with real
difficulties, whichever view we may take of its actual character.

The symptoms which are alleged to have accompanied it present many of the
usual phenomena of madness. No possession is believed to take place now,
but such phenomena are attributed to causes purely natural. The supposed
possessions therefore which are mentioned in the New Testament or in other
ancient writings are said to be due only to ignorance of natural causes.
Many very eminent defenders of Christianity have been so deeply impressed
by these and other reasons that they have admitted that possession is only
a form of madness, and that the language respecting it in the New
Testament is based on the current ideas of the day.

It is desirable that the difficulty should be put in the strongest light.
I will therefore state it in the words of the author of “Supernatural
Religion.” “It would be an insult to the understanding of those who are
considering this question, to pause here to prove that the historical
books of the New Testament, speak in the clearest and most unmistakable
terms of actual demoniacal possession.” Now what has become of this theory
of disease? The Archbishop of Dublin is probably the only one who asserts
the reality of demoniacal possession formerly, and in the present day; and
in this way we must say that he is consistent. Dean Milman, on the other
hand, who spoke with the enlightenment of the 19th century, “has no
scruple in averring his opinion on the subject of demoniacal possession to
be that of Joseph Mede, Lardner, Dr. Mead, Paley, and all the learned
modern writers. It was a kind of insanity, and nothing is more probable
than that lunacy would take the turn, and speak the language of the
prevailing superstition of the times.” The Dean, as well as “all the
learned modern writers” to whom he refers, felt the difficulty, but in
seeking to evade it, they sacrifice the Gospels. They overlook the fact,
that the writers of these narratives, not only themselves adopt “the
prevailing superstition of the times,” but represent Jesus as doing so
with equal completeness. There is no possibility, for instance, of evading
such statements as those in the miracle of the country of the Gadarenes,
where the objectivity of the demons is so fully recognised, that on being
cast out of the man, they are represented as requesting to be allowed to
go into the herd of swine, and being permitted by Jesus to do so, the
entry of the demons into the swine is at once signalised by the herd
running violently down the cliff into the lake and being drowned. (p.
131.) The author might have strengthened his case, as far as modern
authorities are concerned, by drawing attention to the fact, that even Dr.
Farrar, who seems to maintain the objective reality of demoniacal
possessions in his recently published “Life of Christ,” admits that in the
statement that the demons locally passed from the man into the swine, some
inaccuracy has crept into the narrative of the Evangelists.

It will be at once seen that the all‐important point in this objection is
the apparent acceptance by our Lord of demoniacal possession, as being a
correct account of an objective fact. I fully agree with this writer, that
those who affirm that it was madness and nothing else are bound, when they
propose this solution of the difficulty, to point out distinctly how it
affects the question of our Lord’s veracity, and the historical character
of the Gospels.

In approaching this question, let me at once observe that while I
entertain a definite opinion as to the nature of the inspiration of the
New Testament derived not from _à priori_ assumptions, but from a careful
study of its facts and phenomena, yet the question at issue is not what is
the nature or the extent of the inspiration, but the reality of the
supernatural events recorded in the Gospels. This issue is one which is
purely historical, and therefore I have simply to examine it on historical
grounds, and not to defend any particular theory of inspiration. Our
business is first to ascertain what are the facts of the New Testament
which are supported by historical evidence; when we have ascertained
these, we shall be in a position to propound a theory of inspiration in
accordance with the facts and assertions; still, however, it will be
necessary to find out how a certain state of the facts will affect the
character which the Gospels attribute to our Lord.

The following facts are plain on the surface of the Gospels. First, that
the followers of our Lord believed that the demoniacal possessions there
recorded were objective facts, and not mere forms of disease.

Secondly, that our Lord himself, if the words attributed to Him are
correctly reported, used language which seems to imply that He shared in
this belief.

Thirdly, that in a particular instance, not only do the Evangelists affirm
that our Lord addressed a demoniac, but also the demons who possessed him,
and that He permitted their departure into a herd of swine, thereby
apparently confirming the objective reality of the possession.

The question is a far more serious one, as it affects our Lord, than those
on whose reports the statements of the Gospels are founded. He is
represented as being a divine person, and as possessed in His human
nature, not of infinite but of superhuman knowledge. His apparent sanction
of an erroneous view is therefore a very different thing from the apparent
sanction of it by an author of a Gospel, or from the mistaken views which
his followers might have entertained as to the causes of a bodily disease.

I should find no difficulty in adopting the theory of the eminent writers
above named, that the demoniacal possessions mentioned in the New
Testament, were nothing but forms of insanity, if it were not that our
Lord has apparently recognised their reality. It has been urged that if
possession was nothing but insanity, there is an end of the miracle. But
this is not the case, for the cure of a madman is quite as much a
supernatural act as the expulsion of a demon.

Let me now assume for argument’s sake, that possession was simple madness.
How does such a supposition affect the veracity of the authors of the
Gospels, and their judgment as credible historians of the events of our
Lord’s life?

If we assume that possession was madness, it is evident from the language
which the Evangelists have employed that they must have shared in the
ignorance of the times in which they lived as to the true causes of the
complaint. When however we speak of the ignorance of any particular
period, it should be observed that the expression is an indefinite one. We
have no right to impute to any body of authors opinions on particular
subjects of which their writings contain no traces. It has been affirmed,
as we have seen, that the Jews of the apostolic age held a number of
opinions on the subject of possession of the most grotesque and monstrous
description. I have already shown that to impute these opinions to them,
when no trace of them can be found in their writings is a most unfair mode
of reasoning.

When, therefore, I use the expression that they must have shared in the
ignorance of the age respecting the causes of this disease, I must guard
against the danger of ascribing to them a greater degree of ignorance than
that which they have actually shown. The expression, “ignorance of the
age,” denotes no uniform quantity of ignorance shared in by every
individual alike. In an ignorant or superstitious age, one person may be
far more so than another. It is quite conceivable that two thousand years
hence human improvement may have become so great, that those who live in
the present century may be designated as ignorant. It may be hereafter
asserted that such writers as Huxley, Tyndall, Herbert Spencer, and Mill
shared in the ignorance of the age in which they lived on some important
physical facts. But from this it would be absurd to draw the conclusion
that they were believers in the alleged facts of spiritualism because
large numbers of their contemporaries were known to have believed in them,
and spiritualistic publications enjoy a large circulation both in Europe
and America in this nineteenth century.

As far as the Evangelists are concerned, the supposition that I am now
considering involves nothing more than that they held a false theory as to
the cause of a particular form of disease, and that they have used
language respecting it that embodies this theory. In this point of view
they would not differ from writers of every age who have entertained false
theories as to the causes of physical phenomena. In such cases it is easy
to separate the fact from the incorrect view as to what were the causes of
that fact. Ancient philosophical writers held many false theories as to
the place of the local habitation in our bodies of certain affections of
our moral nature. These can be traced very distinctly in the language of
the present day. Thus we say that a man is devoid of heart, and talk of
making appeals to the heart. These, and multitudes of similar expressions
which occur both in ancient and modern writings, involve false
philosophical theories; but it is easy to separate the facts intended from
the theories. Thus, if the authors of the Gospels inform us that our Lord
cured a demoniac, and give an account of the demoniac’s outcries, as
though they were the utterances of a demon, we have only to substitute
madman for demoniac, and the correct state of the case is easily
discovered.

The real difficulty which is felt on this subject, arises not from the
narratives as ordinary histories, but on the supposition that the writers
possessed an inspiration which ought to have guarded them from such
errors. Popular theories of inspiration unquestionably render such an
assumption necessary, but I can see no ground for it, either in the
statements of the Gospels, or any other portion of the New Testament.
Nowhere is it affirmed that its writers were to be guided into all truth,
scientific, philosophical, or even historical. All that is affirmed is
that they possessed a degree of supernatural enlightenment adequate to
communicate the Christian revelation to mankind. Neither is there a hint
given, nor can a fact be adduced, to show that their supernatural
illumination extended beyond this. The spiritual gifts bestowed no
enlightenment beyond the special function of those gifts. This the
affirmation of St. Paul in the Epistles to the Corinthians makes clear. A
person having the gift of tongues, if he had not also that of
interpretation was unable to interpret his own utterances, and the
possession of the high gift of prophecy by no means exempted the possessor
from the danger of using it in a manner to create confusion in the Church.
Even the highest apostolic gifts conferred no infallibility, but were
strictly limited to their proper functions of communicating the great
truths of the Christian revelation. The idea that they conferred a general
infallibility is no statement of the New Testament, but a pure figment of
the imagination.

It therefore by no means follows because the writers of the New Testament
had an illumination sufficient for their functions that they had any other
than their ordinary enlightenment beyond that limit. They might have been
good teachers of religious truth, and yet utterly ignorant of physical
science. The assertion may be correct that St. Luke possessed a
supernatural guidance sufficient to enable him to compose the third
Gospel, and yet it may be no less true, that as a physician he had no
medical knowledge beyond that of his time, and that he shared in all its
errors as to the causes and cure of physical disease. A man may be a good
physician of the soul, and at the same time a very ignorant physician of
the body. It is quite conceivable, therefore, even if the Evangelists or
those followers of Christ from whom they derived their accounts possessed
various degrees of supernatural enlightenment on matters directly
affecting Christianity, that they possessed none whatever as to the causes
of disease, and that they may have viewed madness as a result of
demoniacal action, and described it accordingly. The facts would remain
the same; the symptoms might have been exhibited, and the cure actually
effected.

But the New Testament likewise affirms that our Lord imparted to His
followers the power of expelling demons, as well as that of healing
diseases. Now, on the supposition that these demoniacs were simple
maniacs, how does this affect the credibility of the narrative?

I reply that during the mission of the Apostles and the Seventy (for these
are the cases alluded to) there is no promise made them of supernatural
enlightenment. They were simply sent out to announce a specific fact, the
near approach and setting up of the kingdom of heaven, and to work
miracles in confirmation of it. It is true that in His address to them,
our Lord told them that a time was coming when they would have to testify
to Him before princes and kings, and that He promises them, that they
should receive supernatural assistance, suitable to the emergency. But
this never arose during the mission in question. They were commanded to
cure the reputed demoniac in confirmation of their mission. This would be
an equally miraculous sign whether he was one possessed or a simple
maniac. In this case, therefore, there was no reason why they should be
supernaturally enlightened as to the causes of this disease, more than of
any other. No doubt the theories then prevalent as to the causes of
disease generally were very faulty. It could not be otherwise in the state
of medical science at that period. So they must always have been while
such a truth as the circulation of the blood was unknown. But the object
of Christianity was not to communicate scientific knowledge, or to teach
the true causes of disease, but to discover truths mightily operative in
the moral and spiritual worlds. It follows, therefore, that the ignorance
of the disciples as to the actual causes of mania no more affects the
credibility of the narrative than their ignorance of the causes of
paralysis or leprosy.

It is also evident from the statements of the Gospels, that there were a
considerable number of persons who practised exorcisms of various kinds,
and who fully believed that the persons on whom they operated were
possessed by demons. It seems also probable from the allusions made to
them, that these exorcisms were occasionally successful in effecting a
cure; and it may be, more frequently, in mitigating the symptoms. This,
however, was not always the case; for the Evangelists describe the
disciples as entirely unsuccessful in the case of the child, out of whom
they invoked the demon to depart in the name of Jesus. It is worthy of
observation, that in this instance, the father of the demoniac describes
his son’s case as a combination of lunacy and possession, “He is lunatic
and sore vexed.” Their failure is directly attributed to want of faith,
_i.e._ that there was something wanting in their mental state which
prevented them from exerting the requisite influence over the lunatic
youth. The want of success with which exorcists were not unfrequently
attended is strikingly set before us in the account given in the Acts of
the Apostles, of the attempt made by certain Jewish exorcists to cure the
demoniac at Ephesus. In this case it not only ended in a complete failure,
but in an aggravation of the malady.

Now when we consider the various forms which mania assumes, it is quite
credible that exorcisms may have exerted a favourable influence on it,
altogether apart from any supernatural power possessed by the operator. It
is clear that the supposed maniacs imagined themselves under the influence
of demoniacal possession. When we consider the powerful influence that one
mind is capable of exerting over another under these circumstances we can
see that the presence of superior mental power was an influence exactly
suited to produce a favourable result. In our modern treatment of mania
(whatever may be the opinions as to its physical origin) it is now
universally admitted that moral means are the most efficacious. Some
obvious physical causes can be dealt with and removed, while others
cannot. But the most successful operator on these forms of lunacy is he
who applies to them the most effective moral treatment, under which in
many cases its symptoms have gradually disappeared. One of these modes of
treatment is never to cross the patient on the subject of his delusions.
Nothing is more remarkable than the influence which the efficient
practitioner can exert over persons suffering from these forms of madness,
by the mere energy of his will; a display of mental power analogous to
that of strong faith. This will often produce a calm among maniacs which
persons of inferior endowments utterly fail to excite. It is an
unquestionable fact that high mental and moral power is capable of
producing striking results on different forms of maniacal disease.

This being so, it follows that exorcists might be capable of exerting upon
maniacs a powerful influence favourable to cure. In the ancient world the
usual treatment was that of extreme harshness. The demoniac of Gadara had
been bound with chains and fetters. This is now known to have a direct
tendency to aggravate the disease, rather than to cure it. It is no
wonder, therefore, if the exorcist, by adopting an opposite mode of
treatment, and even by sympathizing with the sufferer’s delusions, was
capable of alleviating the symptoms of the complaint, if not of effecting
a cure. The whole result may have been due to moral influence and
spiritual power, which may have been taken for the expulsion of a demon.
In whatever way it was effected, the cure or the alleviation was no less
real.

It follows, therefore, that the exorcists of the ancient world were far
from necessarily being a set of impostors, even on the supposition that
possession was simple mania. They may have been able to effect real
alleviations or even cures of the complaint, although they were ignorant
as to its cause, or how their exertions produced a successful result.
There is nothing inconsistent with their general honesty, if they
themselves were under the belief that they were expelling demons, while
they were really curing ordinary mania. It should also be observed, that a
real power of exerting an influence on madmen was one which in those times
of ignorance, both of mental and physical science, admitted of fearful
abuse, and if exercised for evil purposes, was capable of producing many
of the worst results with which the practice of witchcraft and sorcery
have been attended. A large portion of these latter operations no doubt
resulted from the successful practice of ocular deception, but another
portion of them unquestionably resulted from the mighty influences that a
powerful mind can exert over a weak, imaginative, and superstitious one.
There are many depths of human nature into which science has as yet failed
to penetrate; and among these are the entire phenomena of mania and
religious frenzy.

These facts and considerations are sufficient to vindicate the credibility
of the writers of the New Testament in their statement, that a power of
exorcism was known and exercised in their time, and that its exercise was
at times attended with favourable results. The statement on this subject
attributed to our Lord, “If I by Satan cast out devils, by whom do your
sons cast them out? therefore shall they be your judges,” is plainly an
_ad hominem_ argument. It amounts to no more than this; You Pharisees
accuse me of casting out demons through Beelzebub. You assert that your
disciples exercise a power of exorcism; and that they do this in virtue of
a divine power communicated to them. On what principle of common sense can
you affirm that the power which I exercise is demoniacal, and that which
your disciples exercise is divine?—There is no assertion made one way or
the other as to the reality of the acts in question; nor is there any
difficulty in supposing that our Lord recognised that some of the
influences thus exerted were genuine.

I have hitherto, in treating this part of the subject, been dealing with
the supposition that our Lord’s disciples mistook maniacs for demoniacs,
and the consequences of such a mistake on the authenticity of the Gospel
narratives. I must now address myself to the far more important question
as to the consequences which follow from our Lord’s apparent recognition
of the existence of demoniacal possession on the supposition that it was
simple mania.

The facts as they appear in the Gospels are unmistakable. It was the
distinct opinion of their authors that our Lord recognised the phenomena
which they have reported as the results of demoniacal possession and not
of simple mania. In proof of this it will be needless to refer to every
instance they have recorded. The account of the demoniac at Gadara and
that of the lunatic youth are among the most remarkable, and on them the
case may be allowed to rest. In the former case the words of St. Mark,
whose description of the scene abounds in those details which are rarely
seen except in narratives derived from direct ocular testimony, are: “And
all the demons besought him, saying, Send us into the swine that we may
enter into them. And forthwith Jesus gave them leave. And the unclean
spirits went out and entered into the swine, &c.” In the case of the
demoniac child the Evangelist describes the Apostles as asking Jesus, “Why
could not we cast him out?” The following words are ascribed to our Lord:
“This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.” It is undeniable,
therefore, that the Evangelists have ascribed to Jesus a belief in the
reality of demoniacal possession.

I am not concerned in the present argument with the words and actions
which they have attributed to the demoniacs; but with the words and
actions attributed to Jesus. We know that some madmen labour under the
delusion, not only that they are emperors and kings, but even in a few
instances that they are God himself. This being so, it is quite possible
that a maniac may confuse his personality with one or more demons; and
speak and act consistently with the delusion. The maniacs may have given
utterance to exclamations resulting from mere delusions; but the
Evangelists in recording these utterances gave simple statements of facts.
It is quite possible, that the demoniac of Gadara may have imagined
himself possessed by a legion of demons, and have spoken and acted
accordingly, whilst he was at the same time labouring under simple mania.

Now, on the assumption that possession was simple mania and nothing more,
the following suppositions are the only possible ones.

First, that our Lord really distinguished between mania and possession;
but that the Evangelists have inaccurately reported his words and actions,
through the media of their own subjective impressions, or, in short, have
attributed to Him language that He did not really utter.

Second, that our Lord knew that possession was a form of mania, and
adopted the current notions of the time in speaking of it, and that the
words were really uttered by Him.

Third, that with similar knowledge, He adopted the language in question as
part of the curative process.

Fourth, that He accepted the validity of the distinction, and that it was
a real one during those times.

These alternatives demand our careful consideration, not for the purpose
of determining which is the correct one, but of estimating the results
which flow from either of them on the central character of the Gospels.
The position which I take must be clearly stated. It is this: If
possession be mania, there is nothing in the language which the
Evangelists have attributed to our Lord which compromises the truthfulness
of his character. If, on the other hand, we assume that possession was an
objective fact, there is nothing in our existing scientific knowledge of
the human mind which proves that the possessions of the New Testament were
impossible.

Let us consider the first alternative.

A careful examination of the phenomena presented by the synoptic Gospels
leads to the irresistible conclusion that they largely consist of accounts
which had been handed down by oral tradition, for a considerable time
prior to their being committed to writing, and that these have been in
various degrees supplemented by information derived from other sources.
Assuming this to have been the case it gives an adequate account of the
differences of form which they present, their variations in minor
circumstances, and that most remarkable of all their phenomena, the
samenesses of expression interwoven with considerable diversities, which
is presented alike by the parallel narratives and discourses. The
threefold and more frequently twofold form in which several of the
discourses have been handed down to us, prevent us from believing that
these discourses were intended to be rigid reproductions of the verbal
utterances of our Lord. All they can be is an accurate account of the
sense and very frequently of his words. The important question for our
present consideration is, Have the Evangelists, in reporting the
discourses of Jesus, imparted to them a colouring derived from their own
subjective impressions or do they accurately convey to us his meaning and
his meaning only? Or with respect to the point before us, Have the
Evangelists in reporting the utterances of Jesus to the demoniacs and his
observations on possession to his disciples given us the substance of what
He actually said, or their own impressions of what He might have said?

I reply, the internal grounds for assuming their accuracy are strong. This
is vouched for by the fact that while we have a three or twofold report of
the same discourse, varying very considerably in words and arrangement,
and while we have whole sentences in one Evangelist which materially aid
in determining the meaning, either omitted in one or inserted in another,
still with all these variations in expression, the variations in sense are
of the smallest possible importance. This being the case the whole aspect
of the discourses leads us to infer that they are altogether unaffected by
the subjective impressions of those who reported them. They are indelibly
stamped with the mind of Jesus himself and with his alone. There are many
points on which his teaching ran strongly counter to the subjective
impressions of those who reported it. Here then if such impressions had
intruded themselves we should be certain to find indications of such
intrusion, and that in no doubtful form. But there are none. The theory
therefore of the introduction of the subjective impressions of the
followers of our Lord into the discourses has no foundation in their
contents, and therefore it is wholly illegitimate to assume it for the
solution of a difficulty.

The phenomena which distinguish St. Mark’s Gospel strongly display the
marks of autoptic testimony. This greatly increases the difficulty of the
supposition in question, for these expressions are found in that Gospel,
and in it we also find the remarkable saying, “This kind goeth not out but
by prayer and fasting.” It seems therefore impossible to doubt the
Evangelist’s assertion that such words were uttered by our Lord.

But I must now inquire whether Dr. Farrar’s supposition is tenable, that
some misapprehension has crept into the narrative when it affirms that the
demons in objective reality left the body of the man and entered into the
swine.

I answer that there is nothing in the Evangelists which requires us to
consider their words as an accurately scientific statement of the mode in
which the demon acted on the mind of the possessed.

It is true that they repeatedly say that they entered in and out of the
man, but this may well be in conformity with popular ideas on the subject,
without intending to assert as a scientific fact, that the demons made
either the body or the spirit of the man their local habitation. The New
Testament attempts to determine nothing respecting the _modus operandi_ of
spirits. God is said to dwell in a holy man, but it is ridiculous to
affirm that the omnipresent Spirit makes the man his local habitation.
There is a case in point as to the use of such language in the narrative
of the woman who was healed of the issue of blood. The effect produced on
her is described by our Lord and the Evangelists by the words “Power
(δύναμις) has gone out of me.” Yet no one who considers the mode in which
the Gospels are composed, will affirm that our Lord by using these words
intended to convey a scientific truth as to his _modus operandi_ in
performing the miracle, or that it was actually performed by some subtle
emanation called “Power,” which issued from his person. With those who
assume that neither our Lord nor his Apostles could use popular
expressions of this kind, but were bound to use terms of strict scientific
accuracy all reasoning is thrown away. If the strictest verbal accuracy
must be observed on every occasion it would be incorrect to say that a
physician has cured a lunatic, for the idea on which the term lunacy is
founded is scientifically inaccurate. It follows therefore that the terms
which are so constantly applied to demons in the New Testament, that they
entered into, departed out of, or possessed a man may well be popular
expressions, denoting that they exerted a mighty, nay, an overwhelming
influence upon him, which in the shattered state of his physical or moral
condition he was unable to shake off, without determining anything as to
the mode in which that influence was exerted. Thus, in St. John’s Gospel,
the devil is described as having put it (βεβληκότος) _into the heart_ of
Judas Iscariot to betray our Lord. After the giving of the sop, Satan is
said to have entered into him. Surely the only fact which these words are
intended to convey is that Judas allowed his whole moral and spiritual
being to be overpowered by the influence of the evil one. It is quite
possible that the Evangelists might have thought that the influence was
exerted by actually going in or coming out of a man. But this is a mere
physical theory as to the mode of action, and certainly is not a point on
which the writings of the New Testament anywhere affirm that a
supernatural knowledge was imparted to their authors.

It follows therefore that the expressions “going out from the man,” and
“entering into the swine,” may only denote the cessation of the influence
of the demons over the man, and its exertion on the swine, without
determining the mode in which that influence was exerted. Surely when our
Lord promised that He would come to the man who loved him and make his
abode with him, that did not imply a local indwelling of his person but an
indwelling of influence.

With such expressions in abundance before us, in which it is obvious that
they were never intended to denote anything local, it is absurd to fix it
on the sacred writers in this particular case. They nowhere assert that
the demons were seen to pass from the man and enter the swine. It was
simply a matter of inference from the facts which they witnessed that they
had done so. The man ceased to rave and became a rational creature. The
swine rushed down into the lake and perished. They also affirm that the
result took place by the permission of Jesus. Yet it is somewhat
remarkable that it is only Matthew who attributes to him the word “Go.”
Mark and Luke only mention the request of the demons, and the result which
followed. There is nothing therefore derogatory to the character of the
Evangelists as historians in supposing that the facts received a colouring
from their own subjective impressions, though it would be so if under such
circumstances they had allowed those impressions to assign a different
meaning to our Lord’s words from that which he actually conveyed.

This conclusion at which we have arrived, that our Lord’s meaning is
accurately reported by the Evangelists, disposes of the first alternative.
We will now proceed to examine the second, viz., that our Lord knew that
possession was mania, and that He adopted the current notions of the times
in speaking of it. The all important question is, how far does this affect
his veracity?

On this point Archbishop Trench has laid down the following position
broadly: “If Jesus knew that the Jewish belief in demoniacal possession
was baseless and that Satan did not exercise such power over the bodies or
spirits of men there would be in such language that absence of agreement
between thoughts and words in which the essence of a lie consists.”

If this position is correct it involves a principle far more extensive
than the case immediately before us. It is nothing less than that our Lord
neither in his formal teaching nor in his conversation should have used
language which was other than scientifically correct. It might be argued,
that if He had done so He would have lent his sanction to the error which
it involved. Even if the principle thus laid down could be confined to
religious truth (which it cannot), it would then have been necessary that
whenever the current ideas, or the mode of conception of the day contained
an assumption involving an incorrect theory or endangering a religious
error, our Lord ought to have corrected it in the course of his teaching.
If we admit that demoniacal possession was a real agency there can be no
doubt that the Jews would confound many cases of ordinary mania with it.
This being so, if the principle is correct, our Lord ought to have pointed
out the distinction. Again, even if it is assumed that demoniacal agency
was sometimes manifested in the phenomena of witchcraft, there can be no
doubt that much of it was due to human imposture. On the principle laid
down by the Archbishop our Lord ought to have corrected every error that
was prevalent on that subject. On the same principle it would have been
impossible for him to have used an _ad hominem_ argument or in fact any
form of expression founded on an erroneous conception. It is therefore
evident that the principle, if accepted at all, can only be accepted under
very considerable qualifications, or we shall convert our Lord from the
revealer of truth and teacher of Christianity into one whose duty it was
to combat every erroneous opinion of the day. On such a theory it is
difficult to see how our Lord was not bound to correct every erroneous
opinion then current respecting the first and second chapters of Genesis,
and to point out their true relation to the modern discoveries of geology,
for He expressly referred to the second chapter in his teaching. He also
referred to the flood, respecting which many erroneous opinions were
undoubtedly current. If the principle is good it might be urged that He
sanctioned those errors by his silence.

The same principle must also have been applicable to many other erroneous
opinions which the Jews entertained respecting the interpretation of the
Old Testament. In fact it would be difficult to assign any limits to our
Lord’s duty of correcting popular errors which had any kind of bearing on
religious truth.

But to return to the demoniacs. Is there any thing inconsistent with our
Lord’s truthfulness, if we suppose that they were lunatics and nothing
more, in his using the current language of the day respecting them? Let it
be observed that two considerations are really involved; first, our Lord
is represented as conversing directly with the demoniac. Secondly, He also
occasionally speaks of demoniacal possession in his ordinary teaching in
the current language of the day. Now if it be admitted to be consistent
with his truthfulness to address such language to the maniac, is it
equally so to employ such language in his discourses to others?

I observe first, that if possession was mania, the real ground of the
popular error was an erroneous opinion as to the cause of a natural
disorder. The popular belief in fact ascribed it to supernatural instead
of natural causes. So far, but no farther, it touched religious questions.
To correct the error involved not merely the teaching of religious truth,
but in this particular case the enunciation of sounder principles of
mental philosophy. I think that I may fearlessly affirm that the teaching
of scientific truth, either mental or material, did not come within the
scope of our Lord’s divine mission. Political truth is a part of moral
truth, and moral truth is closely allied to religious truth. Now although
Christianity is a power which will ultimately reform the political world,
our Lord expressly affirmed that it was no part of his mission to
enunciate political truth.

In the same manner it may have formed no direct portion of his mission to
teach correct views respecting the origin of mania, or to counteract the
opinions which ascribed it to supernatural causes.

If this principle is correct, there is nothing inconsistent with his
truthfulness if when our Lord conversed with a supposed demoniac, He
addressed him in language which took for granted the truth of his
delusions. Even if it is supposed that truthfulness required that He
should have exposed a popular delusion, surely it was no occasion for
doing so, when He was addressing a madman. Who would affirm that a
physician is wanting in truthfulness if he addresses his patient in terms
of his own delusions, or imagines that it is his duty to enter into a
discussion with a madman as to the causes of his malady?

On these principles it is quite consistent with our Lord’s truthfulness to
suppose that the dialogue with the demoniac of Gadara actually occurred,
while He himself knew that possession was nothing but mania. Let us
suppose that the man was a raving madman. He had been treated cruelly. He
rushed towards Jesus and was awed by the greatness of his character. The
dialogue takes place, as it is described by the Evangelist. I see no want
of truthfulness on our Lord’s part, nor can I conceive any necessity for
explaining to the man that he was not possessed by a multitude of demons;
or if the madman requested that the demons by whom he imagined himself
possessed might be allowed to go into the swine, that our Lord should
explain to him that it was impossible that they should do so because the
idea of the demoniac was a delusion. The case would be one of confused or
double personality, and accordingly the narrator has described the demons
and the man as alternately speaking, and our Lord as addressing them. In
such a case the form of the narrative would be modified by the subjective
impressions of the narrator.

But the words which our Lord is described as addressing to the demoniac
lad also require consideration. St. Mark describes them as follows. Jesus
rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him, “Thou deaf and dumb spirit, I
charge thee come out of him, and enter no more into him; and the spirit
cried, and rent him sore and came out of him.” Let us suppose that the
disease was mania, and that our Lord knew it to be so, but that the
father, as well as the maniac and the others who were present believed
that it was caused by the action of an evil spirit. What was there
inconsistent with veracity in addressing the maniac in terms of his own
delusions? If it is urged that the belief in possession was a
superstition, and that to use such language tended to confirm the belief,
I reply that if we assume that our Lord was bound not to use the language
which was common among his hearers in speaking of such diseases, or that
He ought to have given explanations of their true causes, then we assume
that his character as a revealer of Christianity rendered it necessary
that in the course of his public ministry He should correct all the errors
which He encountered, and never use language which had originated in them.

The words which are ascribed to our Lord by the Evangelist when He stilled
the tempest will throw light on this subject. St. Mark gives them as
follows: “He rebuked the winds and said to the sea, Peace, be still.” The
word here rendered “Be still” is in the Greek far more emphatic, _Be
gagged_ (πεφίμωσο). In the case of the demoniac our Lord is represented as
rebuking the evil spirit. Here He rebukes the waves. Now it is only
possible to rebuke rational agents. Such an expression would therefore be
only accurate if addressed to a being who was capable of hearing it, and
who was uttering load cries. It may be objected that the expression
favours the notion that the speaker supposed the roaring of the waves to
be the voice of an evil spirit, who was exciting the tempest, or, in other
words, that He gave countenance to the heathen belief, that it was the
voice of Æolus, the spirit of the storm. Whatever amount of superstition
may be attributed to the Jews at the time of the Advent, it will scarcely
be urged that the followers of Jesus attributed the roaring of the gale to
the voice of a demon. Still it may be urged on the principles above
referred to that the words uttered by our Lord tended to confirm
superstitions notions as to the nature and origin of storms. I argue, on
the other hand, that these expressions prove indisputably that the
language used by Him was not always intended to be a literal description
of fact, any more than the numerous similar addresses to the inanimate
creation which we find in the Psalms.

But in the case of the demoniac, the real difficulty consists in the
results which are alleged to have happened to the swine. I have already
obviated some portion of this as far as the form of the narrative is
concerned. But there remains the fact that the swine are stated to have
rushed into the lake and perished. As to the reality of such an occurrence
there can have been no mistake. The mere mode of expression offers no
explanation, nor can a mistake respecting such an occurrence have
originated in any possible deception of the imagination. _If it was not a
fact it must have been a fictitious invention._ Can any explanation of it
be given? It has been suggested that the swine were driven down the cliff
by the madman. Against this supposition, it has been urged that no animals
are less easily driven than swine. How then could it have been possible to
drive two thousand of them into the water? But there is no necessity to
assume that they were driven at all. The scene as it is described by the
Evangelists was well calculated to inspire animals with fright. It would
however have been impossible to frighten two thousand of them. Granted:
but large herds of animals follow their leaders implicitly. When under
excitement one makes a leap, the others will follow. All that would have
been necessary, if we suppose that the herd was near the edge of the
cliff, was that the leaders should have received the requisite impulse
from the madman, and under its influence rushed wildly down the cliff, and
been followed by their companions.

But the case is different when our Lord speaks to others, and not to the
demoniacs themselves. His observations to the Pharisees on this subject I
have already considered. There remains the striking one addressed to the
disciples: “This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.” The
circumstances of the case are these. The disciples had failed to cure the
youth, whether a demoniac or a simple lunatic. They ask our Lord why it
was that they had failed. He tells them that it was because of their
unbelief. Now it is impossible for us to say what was the nature of the
influence of faith in affecting miraculous cures, and why the want of it
prevented success. It is sufficient to draw attention to the fact that it
is uniformly laid down in the New Testament, that in the case of
subordinate agents working miracles faith was necessary for their
accomplishment. Our Lord also usually required faith in the recipients of
his cures, but not always. But to his disciples when they attempted to
perform a miracle faith was indispensable to their success. The question
was not what was the nature of the disease, but why in this particular
case they had failed to cure it. Our Lord replied that in this instance
not only was faith necessary to effect the cure, but a very unusual degree
of it. If the question had been what was the cause of the child’s disease,
and if our Lord know that it was not possession, but mania, it is quite
possible that He would have refused to answer it, as He did on other
occasions when curious questions were put to him, and would have deduced
some moral lesson from the fact. This it will be remembered was the course
which He pursued when He was asked whether only a few would be saved. But
the inquiry was not what caused the disease, but why the attempt to cure
it had proved a failure. Such being the question, there is nothing
inconsistent with truthfulness in our Lord’s answer. He avoided entering
into an explanation as to what was a physical cause of the disease, which
was quite foreign to his divine mission. He therefore simply told them
that their failure was owing to their unbelief, and then added, in
language couched in their own forms of thought, and which would not
therefore open a discussion on subjects foreign to the purposes of his
mission, “This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting.”

Those who lay stress on difficulties of this kind are in the habit of
overlooking the plain fact, that our Lord’s teaching was specifically
addressed to the living characters of the day, and to their existing lines
of thought, and cannot without reference to them be directly translated
into our own. This remark is no less true of the moral teaching contained
in the Gospels, than of their historical statements. It is even more so,
for a great number of the moral precepts of Christ cannot be applied as
practical guides until they have been adapted to the altered conditions of
thought and of society.(4) They are in fact principles given in the form
of precepts. If our Lord’s words had been reported so as to make them
square with the lines of thought of every age, they would have given us,
not his actual teaching but a modification of it. It is our duty by a
careful study of the great principles on which it is based to apply it to
our present wants. It may appear to some far more desirable that it should
have been capable of a direct instead of an indirect application, yet the
fact is as I have stated it. Want of attention to this has occasioned no
inconsiderable number of the difficulties of the New Testament.

One or two remarks will be all that is necessary for illustrating the
position which some have adopted that our Lord’s mode of dealing with
demoniacs was intended by Him as part of the process of cure. I should not
have alluded to this subject at all unless the view in question had been
propounded by a very eminent writer. I have already considered its main
principles under the previous head.

It ought to be observed that the care of demoniacs, whatever view we may
take of possession, belongs to a class of our Lord’s miracles which are
distinct from all others. All the others are described as wrought on the
human body, or on external nature. The Evangelists do not record a single
miracle beside these that was wrought on the human mind. This is a
remarkable fact. In the course of his ministry He encountered every form
of moral and spiritual disease, from the weaknesses of his disciples and
attached friends to the opposition of his most avowed enemies. Now,
although He emphatically asserted that He was the physician of the soul,
and although for the spiritual diseases of men He felt the most profound
sympathy, never once is Jesus represented as exerting his supernatural
power for their care. On the contrary, He is uniformly represented as
having recourse to moral and spiritual means and not to miracles to effect
it. Physical diseases He cures instantaneously, moral ones slowly and with
effort. This fact is worthy of deep attention as showing that our Lord
uniformly acted in conformity with the laws of the moral universe. If the
Gospels are fictions, why is the Great Physician of Souls never
represented as performing a sudden or miraculous cure in the moral and
spiritual worlds, in the same manner as He does in the material? The need
of miraculous intervention to secure Simon Peter from the moral and
spiritual danger which surrounded him was as great as to prevent him from
sinking in the water. Yet no other than moral and spiritual influences
were called into action.

The following is the bearing of this fact on the question before us. If
the cure of a demoniac was the expulsion of a demon, it involved the
liberation of a moral nature from its thraldom, and at the same time the
cure of the bodily organisation as far as its disordered condition enabled
the demon to exert his power. If, on the other hand, it was the cure of
simple mania, still the act had a direct bearing on the moral nature of
the sufferer. In either case the use of moral means as well as
supernatural agency would be especially appropriate. If demoniacs were
madmen, our Lord was fully justified in displaying towards them the
highest degree of sympathy, and in bringing to bear on them the mighty
moral and spiritual forces which abode in his lofty personality. The same
remark would be equally true if the sufferer was held in thrall by
demoniacal power. Each class of miracles in the mode of their performance
is exactly suited to the condition of those on whom our Lord was
operating. On either supposition He was dealing not merely with physical
forces, but with moral agency, and He dealt with it accordingly.

I conclude, therefore, that if it may be taken as established that
possession involved nothing but simple mania, there is nothing in the
facts as they are recorded in the New Testament inconsistent with that
supposition, or which affects the credit of the Gospels as historical
narratives. Nor are they inconsistent with the idea that their writers
were favoured with such supernatural assistance in composing them as was
adequate for the purpose of giving us such an account of the actions and
teachings of Jesus as was necessary for communicating all the great truths
of the Christian revelation. Nor is the supposition inconsistent, as it
has been alleged to be, with His divine character and truthfulness.

I will examine in the next chapter the supposition that possession was not
mania, but an actual objective fact.





CHAPTER XII. POSSESSION, IF AN OBJECTIVE REALITY, NEITHER INCREDIBLE NOR
CONTRARY TO THE ASCERTAINED TRUTHS OF MENTAL SCIENCE.


I now proceed to the consideration of the remaining alternative, the truth
of which the form of the narrative seems most to favour, viz., that our
Lord accepted the distinction between possession and mania; and that
during those times possessions were actual occurrences.

In considering this subject, it will be necessary to pay attention to the
distinction to which I have referred in the previous chapter, that even if
many of the phenomena that accompanied possession were due to superhuman
agency, the Gospels are by no means pledged to any particular theory of
the _modus operandi_ by which the phenomena were brought about. What I
mean is that these phenomena might have been due to a superhuman agency,
without involving the fact that the demon had a local habitation either in
the body or the spirit of the man. All that the Gospels can be taken to
affirm is, that the evil spirit in some way or other, of which we are
ignorant, held the man in a state of thraldom, made his mental powers the
subject of a divided consciousness, overpowered the functions of his
reason and his will, and through his action on the mind used for his own
purposes the organs of his body. The writers of the New Testament are
pledged to no theory as to how such results were effected. They have
simply reported the phenomena as they presented themselves to their
observation. In doing this, the language which they have employed denotes
local habitation; but the words used in stilling the storm make it quite
clear that the literal meaning cannot be pressed. Considering the general
character of these narratives, it is impossible to pledge them to the
particular mode in which these results were brought about.

One circumstance seems to militate against the supposition that possession
involved nothing but simple mania, namely, the numbers of those who are
spoken of as possessed. If the Gospel narratives are historical, it would
appear that such cases were numerous. Not only are several miracles of
this description definitely recorded, but the Evangelists several times
affirm that our Lord cured demoniacs in considerable numbers, without
furnishing us with the details. Now it is difficult to believe that
maniacs existed in such large numbers in a country of the size and
population of Judæa. Yet all the phenomena of possession point to
maniacal, and not to harmless lunacy. The number of the cases of mania
that occur bears but a small proportion to those of the latter form of
derangement. It is true that at times of popular excitement various forms
and numerous cases of frenzy manifest themselves; but these differ from
mania, though they not unfrequently terminate in it. I have made these
observations, because, in discussing such a subject, it is only right to
state fully the difficulties with which particular theories are attended.
It is very probable, however, that as the symptoms so closely resembled
each other, many cases of actual mania would be confounded in popular
estimation with possession, and, therefore, that cases of actual
possession may not have been so numerous as at first sight would appear.

On the supposition that possession was a reality, we have no means of
determining what moral or physical preconditions were necessary for its
manifestation. It is clear that the authors of the Gospels must have
considered that it was owing to some predisposing causes, physical or
moral, though they have not described them. Unless this was the case, the
evil, instead of being partial, would have been universal. Various moral
causes would naturally form a suitable precondition for its manifestation.
There can be no doubt that a number of vices, when indulged in beyond a
certain point, reduce man’s moral being to a wreck and render him
obnoxious to the action of external agency. The power of self‐control may
be indefinitely weakened. If vice is carried to its extreme forms, it
produces phenomena hardly, if at all, distinguishable from madness. Such a
state of man’s moral nature would form a suitable precondition to enable a
superhuman being to overpower the reason and the will, the supremacy of
which was already impaired by an influence from within. In such cases
possession would have been rendered possible by a man’s self‐induced moral
corruption.

The testimony of history proves that during the century which preceded and
that which followed the Advent, the state of moral corruption was extreme.
Men were sated with the old, and craving for new and unheard of forms of
sensual gratification. The old class of ideas, moral and religious, were
gradually dying out, and men were eagerly seeking for something to fill
the void. There consequently never was a time when a greater number of
abnormal forms of thought burst on the human mind, which was shaken to its
utmost depths. The outbreak of fanaticism combined with moral wickedness,
which displayed itself forty years after in the Jewish war of
independence, is probably without a parallel in the history of man. For
this there must have been years of preparation. A somewhat similar state
of things existed in the Pagan world, which led to the production of
numerous religious charlatans and impostors. The times were characterised
by an extravagance of thought on almost every subject, philosophy itself
forming no exception. Such an abnormal mental condition was peculiarly
suited to the reception of external mental influences, if we suppose them
possible.

But I am bound to admit that the facts recorded in the Gospels prove that
possession was not always the result of moral degradation. This is proved
by the case of the youth, whose possession the father directly connects
with lunacy, and says that it had seized him from a child. In this case
the cause which rendered the possession possible must have been physical,
probably a derangement of the nervous system.

If I understand rightly the position which is taken by those who affirm
that possession was mania, and nothing else, it is as follows. It is
alleged that at certain periods of history, the belief in possession has
been widely spread. Possessions are unknown in modern times; and all the
instances which have been alleged are either cases of mania or delusion.
The belief in it has gradually died away as knowledge has advanced. In
former times it generated a number of grotesque stories, which were pure
inventions of the imagination heated by enthusiasm. Such facts as were
real may be referred to madness as their cause. The others are simply
disbelieved. Under the influence of increasing knowledge, there has arisen
a widespread belief in modern times, that there is nothing superhuman in
the causes of such phenomena, but that they are due to influences existing
within the mind itself. This, as it is affirmed, being true of all the
alleged instances of possession in the modern world, it is inferred that
similar ones in the ancient world are equally unreal; and if we had the
requisite data before us, we should be able to refer them all to ordinary
human causes.

With respect to the general fact, there can be no doubt that advancing
knowledge has caused a general disbelief in the reality of any modern form
of possession, or of witchcraft. The supreme grotesqueness of the
phenomena of the latter has caused the belief in it to perish under the
influence of common sense, aided by an increased acquaintance with sound
principles of causation, and the stability of the operations of nature.
Still it is incorrect to affirm that the prevalence of such beliefs has
been due to no other cause than universal ignorance. The belief in
witchcraft produced its most unhappy results during the reigns of
Elizabeth and the Stuarts, in the very age of Bacon, Shakespeare, and
Raleigh. Such beliefs originate in certain principles of our minds whose
gratification consists in the contemplation of the marvellous, the action
of which I shall consider hereafter. They have existed in every condition
of society, and only changed the form of their manifestation. Those who
boast of our freedom from such delusions, owing to the superior light of
the nineteenth century, seem to have forgotten the existence at the
present day of a belief in spiritualism, which is little, if at all, less
absurd than witchcraft, though the former has encountered a less severe
treatment than the latter. This has been more due to the improvement of
our humanity than to our knowledge of physical science. It is a fact that
spiritualism is believed in by multitudes; and its votaries belong far
more to the cultivated class of society than to the ignorant and the
vulgar. What the witch mania was to the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, spiritualism is to the nineteenth. It is the peculiar form
rather than the possibility of such delusions that has passed away.

It should be observed also that the demoniacal supernaturalism of the
monastic writers, and of the middle ages, differs from that of the New
Testament to such a degree that they cannot fairly be compared. In the
former the apparition of demons and departed spirits was a thing of
constant occurrence; in the latter, never. To the monks the devil was
continually appearing in the most phantastic forms, and performing the
most grotesque miracles. To this form of demonology modern spiritualism
can put in very strong claims to be esteemed the genuine successor. The
heated imagination of even such a man as Luther suggested to him that he
saw Satan in visible reality. It is worthy of remark that St. Paul knew
nothing of visible Satanic manifestations. With him they were invariably
spiritual.

It is important to keep steadily in view the fact, that the New Testament
invariably represents possession as consisting in the action of a stronger
mind on a weaker one. The influence which the demon exerted on the bodily
organs might have been effected through the agency of the man himself. It
is never described as involving a visible manifestation of the demon, but
his action is one which is purely mental and spiritual. His presence and
his departure were simply judged of by their effects.

It follows, therefore, that the denial of the possibility of an influence
of this kind must rest on a very wide principle. It cannot be confined to
such action alone, but must go to the extent of denying the possibility of
the action of all spiritual beings on the mind of man. The only principle
on which the denial can rest is, that our mental science has so far
succeeded in analyzing all the past and present operations of the human
mind, that it is justified in affirming that they all originate entirely
within the mind itself; and are never brought about by an action on it
from without by any invisible agent. If this is the principle on which the
denial rests, it will be equally valid to exclude the action of God on our
minds, as well as that of all other invisible beings. It will doubtless be
urged that it is only intended to deny the action of invisible evil
beings. But if it is true that our mental philosophy has ascertained that
all our thoughts originate either in the mind itself, or in the mind acted
on by external nature, or by other men, the principle must be valid for
proving that all other spiritual agency exerted on the mind is impossible,
and that all supposed instances of it are delusions. It is impossible on
this principle to exclude the evil agency, and not to exclude the good
also.

It is evident that this principle is far too broad to be used for the
purpose of affirming the impossibility of the action of external evil
agents only. It is based on the supposition that our mental philosophy is
so complete as to be able to assign even the most abnormal portions of our
mental action to definite and known forces, all of which originate within
the mind itself, and are never due to external influences. If mental
philosophy could establish this as a fact, it would doubtless prove that
possession was impossible; but it could prove a great deal more, even that
God never acted on or influenced the spirit of man. But if there is any
one phenomenon of the mind, of the origin of which we are ignorant, the
whole principle is vitiated, for that very phenomenon may be caused by the
action of an external power. The real point of the controversy therefore
is, Is our mental science thus complete? Has it been able to reduce all
our mental phenomena, including the most abnormal of them, to the action
of known forces? Has it analyzed our mental powers to their inmost depths?
Until it has done this, it is impossible to affirm that the abnormal
actions of the mind may not be occasioned by an external agency.

It will probably be urged, that although our philosophy has not yet
succeeded in assigning all our mental phenomena to the action of known
forces, it hopes to accomplish this hereafter; and that its past conquests
ought to be accepted as a pledge of its future performances; and that the
time will certainly come, when it will be able to refer every mental
phenomenon to a cause originating in the mind itself, and acting in
conformity with invariable law. Promises, however, are not performances;
what is requisite to impart validity to wide affirmations is present
actual knowledge, not the hope that future scientific conquests will be
extended over the entire regions of the unknown. Science professes to walk
by sight and not by faith. In a subject of this kind it is most
unphilosophical to assume that the possibilities of the future are the
realities of the present; and to enunciate propositions whose validity
rests solely on the fact that they are so.

I will now definitely state the principle which can alone give any
scientific value to the assertion, that such demoniacal action as that
which is described in the New Testament, is unbelievable. It is as
follows: that we have so completely ascertained the nature of the forces
which act on our minds, and the laws which regulate them, that we know as
a scientifically established truth, that they all originate either in our
own mental organization, or in the action of other men on our minds. The
statement of the principle in this distinct form at once shows that it is
invalid.

It is impossible for one moment to affirm that our knowledge is so
complete, that we have a scientific acquaintance with the causes of all
our varied mental phenomena, and the laws which regulate them. We have
ascertained the nature of several of our mental processes; but how small a
portion of man’s mental activity do they embrace. I need only
particularize a few of which we are in complete ignorance, as to the
forces which generate them, and the laws which regulate their action.

First, with respect to Genius. Genius is a mental power which manifests
itself only on rare occasions. Who can affirm that we have ascertained the
law which regulates its birth? We may judge from analogy that this, as
other things, follows a law of some kind; but respecting the causes which
give it birth our philosophy is profoundly ignorant. Nor have we any
knowledge of its mode of action. It manifests itself in various forms.
There is the genius which makes the poet, the philosopher, the scientific
discoverer, the orator, the politician, and many others. How those who are
possessed of this power effectuate their mental operations, or how their
great ideas originate in their minds is a subject which exceeds the limits
of our scientific knowledge. Take for example the genius of the poet.
Whence came, and what was the nature of that intuitive power with which
Shakespeare was endowed, or how was it called into exercise? We call such
powers intuitions. We say that a great poet is endowed with a species of
inspiration. What is this but to confess our entire ignorance both of the
origin and the mode of his mental operations. Probably the poet himself
would be unable to give us any analysis of the origin of his own thoughts,
or of the laws that regulate them. How then can we venture to affirm that
they must all originate in the mind itself, and not be due to the action
of some external power? The habit of speaking of his inspirations, from
which scientific men are not exempt, proves our complete ignorance both of
its nature and origin.

But to descend to a humbler sphere—our own minds. We are all conscious
that thoughts rush into them in a most unbidden manner, and that we pass
through mental states which our analysis is unable to explain. Can any man
affirm, however deep may be his philosophy, that the known laws of
association of ideas are adequate to account for all the mental phenomena
of which he has been conscious? Who has not had experience of severe
efforts to realize something in thought, which have ended in failure, and
that the right thing has suddenly come into his mind uncalled and
unbidden? Not unfrequently has a sudden thought entered the mind (we know
not whence it came) which has entirely changed the whole current of a
previous life. Still more frequently has a happy idea occurred to us, the
origin of which it is impossible to trace. Who again has not had
experience of the sudden rushing of a temptation into his mind with an all
but overwhelming force, even while his thoughts were occupied with
subjects in no way allied to the suggestion? Many of our mental phenomena
may be explained by the principle of association of ideas and other known
mental powers; but who can venture to affirm that they are adequate to
account for all the various states of which he has been conscious, or that
some of them have not originated in suggestions from without? Scientific
knowledge is certainly able to make no such affirmation.

Next: there are numerous abnormal conditions to which the mind is
unquestionably subject. Who will venture to affirm that he has penetrated
to their depths, or ascertained the laws which regulate their action?
These have a most important bearing on the present subject. They are best
designated by the term phrenzy. Their aspect is very varied. They differ
in many respects from mania, though they are closely allied to it. They
are confined to no one race of men, but are co‐extensive with human
nature. They were prevalent in the ancient world, and connected with
various forms of religious belief. They display themselves with peculiar
violence in the religious rites of savages. In Oriental countries at the
present day, they frequently manifest themselves and assume a great
variety of aspects. Examples might be easily adduced. The phrenzied
fanatic often presents indications of his mind being acted on by an
overwhelming external influence; and when under the influence of the rites
of a degraded religion, the symptoms present no little resemblance to
those which accompanied demoniacal possession.

I have no wish to affirm that such phenomena must be due to an action of
this kind, but to draw attention to the fact that we are ignorant of the
power in which they originate, and that such being the case, it is quite
possible that their most violent and terrible forms may be aroused by the
influence of a power external to the mind itself. Equally ignorant are we
of the causes of even their milder manifestations. Whatever may be the
hopes which are entertained of the future triumphs of science, it is not
too much to assert, that it has not yet reduced these abnormal conditions
of the mind to any thing like a scientific law, and that it has not
succeeded in tracing the phenomena to the exclusive operation of a force
acting within the mind itself. In truth our mental science is ignorant of
their causes: and for aught that it can affirm to the contrary, many of
them may be due to causes human, superhuman, or a combination of the two.
In cases where we are profoundly ignorant, dogmatical assertions should be
carefully avoided. While such phenomena are incapable of explanation by
the action of known mental forces, the students of mental science are not
justified in affirming that possession contradicts its known truths.

I fully admit, however, that there is a system of professed mental
science, which, if its truth could be proved, would establish the fact
that possession was impossible. I need hardly say that I allude to that
which affirms that thought is the result of a function of the brain, and
nothing else. According to the views of these philosophers, the brain
secretes thought as a gland secretes its own peculiar secretion. Until
this philosophy has succeeded in proving the truth of its first
principles, it is useless to consider its bearing on this particular
question.

There is another abnormal mental condition, the existence of which is
unquestionable, and which has a close connection with the present
question, namely, the ecstatic state. The forms in which this has
manifested itself have been extremely various, and it is impossible for
any one to assert that our mental philosophy has fully fathomed them, and
has succeeded in assigning them to forces originating within the mind
itself. On the contrary it is not too much to affirm that it has as yet
wholly failed to analyze its nature, or to account for the abnormal powers
displayed by the mind when in this condition. In the ancient world this
state of mind was closely connected with the manifestations of the
prophetic power, the reality of which was recognized by many of its
philosophers. It will of course be observed that I am not speaking of this
power as it existed in the Jewish church, but of its supposed
manifestations in the heathen world. Similar ecstatic states have
frequently displayed themselves in modern times. When in this condition
the mind is especially liable to be acted on by external influences. Is it
possible, I ask, in the present state of our mental philosophy, to assert
that we know their nature, or the forces which produce them? The ecstatic
in union with a phrenzied state of the mind was apparently the condition
of the Delphian priestess when she delivered oracles to those who
consulted her. According to all the accounts that we possess, she
presented the appearance of being subject to an overpowering external
influence. Every other description which we possess of the manifestation
of this prophetic power, (and we have several) describes it as presenting
phenomena closely allied to raving madness, an influence of some kind
apparently overpowering the prophet’s personality. Until the forces which
produced these phenomena in the ancient world, and the somewhat similar
ones which have been manifested in modern times, can be shown to owe their
origin to forces originating in the mind itself, and to nothing else, it
is absurd to affirm that such a phenomenon as possession is in
contradiction to our scientific knowledge of the human mind.

There is another point which demands our attention, namely, the close
connection between the extreme forms of moral wickedness, and madness. It
is an unquestionable fact that nothing is more difficult than to draw the
precise line where moral wickedness ends, and madness begins. In their
great outlines they are easily distinguishable, but in the more advanced
stages of moral evil, the one passes into the other by insensible degrees.
So difficult is it to lay down the precise line which separates them, that
scientific men are not wanting, who affirm that every extreme case of
moral wickedness is a species of mania. Consistently with this theory
frequent efforts are made to save the most abandoned criminals from the
consequences of their crimes. If the principle is correct, it is
impossible not to assign lesser degrees of moral evil to the same cause.
Such a principle logically leads to the denial of any distinction between
moral and physical action. Happily however, although this conclusion is
one which has been arrived at by a considerable number of physicists, it
is one which the common sense of mankind steadily refuses to accept. It is
sufficient for the present purpose, that extreme forms of moral evil shade
off into mania by insensible degrees; and that ultimately they are capable
of producing insanity. If insanity can be produced by moral causes, it
follows that a superhuman influence powerful for evil, acting on a
degraded moral nature, may be attended with a similar result, and produce
such a phenomenon as possession.

But further: while madness is produced by physical causes, it is a certain
fact that it is frequently occasioned by causes purely mental. Of this the
instances are innumerable. These mental causes react on the brain and the
nervous system; and thus they superinduce disease on those parts of our
bodily organization by means of which the mind exercises its powers. Still
the disease itself originates in causes that are not seated in the body,
but in the mind. The mind is therefore capable of acting powerfully on our
bodily frame. If therefore possession be viewed as the action of one mind
on another, there is no reason why it should not be able to superinduce
those forms of bodily derangement which exhibited themselves in the
demoniacs by the simple action of the mind upon the body. The mental
causes capable of producing mania are, as we know, of a varied
description; and among them is the action and influence which one mind is
capable of exerting on another. As, therefore, in certain states of our
minds, or of our nervous system, mania with all its results can be
produced by the simple action of mind on mind, and through the action of
the mind disorder may be produced in our bodily organization, there can be
no reason why possession with all its attendant phenomena should not
originate in similar causes. There is nothing to imply that the superhuman
agency manifested in possession was directly exerted on the body of the
possessed. An agency which was entirely mental was fully adequate to
produce all the phenomena with which it was accompanied.

In cases of mania produced by mental action the removal of the exciting
cause is the precondition of its cure, and in many cases effects it.
Similarly, in cases of possession the removal of the exciting cause would
produce similar results.

It follows, therefore, from the foregoing considerations, that the
allegation that the possessions described in the New Testament are
incredible, because they contradict the known truths of mental science, is
disproved.

The question really resolves itself into the following one: Do evil
beings, other than men, exist in the universe? Or, if they exist, is it
credible that they are allowed to interfere in the affairs of men? This
question we have already considered in a former chapter, and we have
arrived at the conclusion that if we free ourselves from the trammels of
_à priori_ theories, and judge only by the facts of the universe as it
exists, neither their existence nor their intervention in human affairs is
contrary to our reason.

Two things, however, must be steadily kept in mind. First: that if such
interventions in human affairs are facts, the agency which can be exerted
is only a permitted agency, and only capable of being exerted in
subordination to the divine purposes in the government of the universe. A
large number of the difficulties with which the subject is attended have
originated in the wholly inaccurate idea that a power is attributed in the
New Testament to Satan, of interfering both in the material and the moral
universe at his own will and pleasure. This, however, is altogether
contrary to the fact. Whatever power is attributed to him is an entirely
permitted one, and exercised in subordination to the general purposes of
God. Secondly, that although the disorder in the moral world might lead us
to suspect the presence of an evil agency, different from that of man; yet
as it is not a visible one, but confined to the regions of the mind, it is
one which cannot come under our distinct observation, and could therefore
only become known to us by revelation.

One more difficulty has to be considered. It is alleged that possession
never takes place now. It is therefore inferred that it never took place
at all.

I reply first, if we grant that demoniacal action, in the form of
possession has now ceased, it by no means follows that it was not once
real. The objection overlooks the fact that its action was a permitted
one; and could only be exercised within the limits assigned to it. There
may have been reasons at the time of the Advent why the exercise of a
Satanic agency should be permitted at that particular period to a greater
extent than it ever has been before or since.

Secondly: certain moral and physical conditions were necessary for its
exercise. These may be no longer in existence, but they may have passed
away with many other abnormal conditions of human nature which existed in
the ancient world.

Thirdly: it is not possible to affirm with certainty that, even at the
present day, no supernatural agencies bearing an analogy to possession,
are exerted on the mind. This will be only possible, when all those
abnormal phenomena which manifest themselves in connection with various
debased forms of religion and other cases of phrenzied excitement can be
traced to known forces, originating solely in the mind itself.

There is one further objection which requires a brief consideration. It is
urged that the writers of the New Testament entertained the belief, that
diseases were generally occasioned by demoniacal action, quite
independently of possession; and that this belief has received the
sanction of our Lord. One case only is alleged in proof of this, that of
the woman with the spirit of infirmity. She was no demoniac, but an
ordinary diseased person, and the disease is asserted to have been
occasioned by demoniacal action.

I reply, that considering the large number of diseases of various kinds
mentioned in the New Testament, in none of which is there any allusion to
demoniacal agency as their cause, a single example is a narrow foundation
on which to build the affirmation that the followers of our Lord held such
a theory as to the origin of disease in general. I admit that
disorganization of the bodily functions is mentioned among the phenomena
of possession. But this differs widely from a bodily evil superinduced
without the agency of possession. Let us inquire whether the special
instance affords any justification for this wide assertion.

The Evangelist states that the woman was bowed down by a spirit of
infirmity, and could in no wise lift herself up. Here it is just as absurd
to fasten on him the intention to describe a scientific fact, as when on
another occasion it is said that “_power_” went out of our Lord “and
healed them all.” The one stands on the same ground as the other.

In effecting the cure, our Lord uses the words, “Woman, thou art loosed
from thine infirmity.” Here there is no reference to Satanic agency
whatever. The only mention of it occurs in his argument with the ruler of
the synagogue on the lawfulness of effecting such cures on the Sabbath
day. The words are, “Thou hypocrite, ought not this woman, who is a
daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, to
be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?”

These words are addressed to the ruler in answer to the objection that our
Lord was no prophet, because he effected his cures on the Sabbath. If so,
as the reality of the miracle was not denied, it was intended to be
implied that it had been wrought by the power of Satan, of which the
violation of the Sabbath was the proof. The real point of controversy
therefore was the lawfulness of effecting cures on this day, not the
Satanic origin of the complaint. Was there any conceivable reason why our
Lord should not discuss the point with the ruler on his own principles?
Why was it necessary to raise a wholly different issue, viz. the Satanic
or non‐Satanic origin of the disease, instead of confining it strictly to
the point, which was the all‐important one, that His curing this woman on
the Sabbath day was so far from being a proof that He did not come from
God, that it was a strong reason for believing that He did so? To have
entered on a discussion as to what was the cause of the complaint, would
not only have diverted attention from the real question, but would have
introduced one wholly foreign to the purposes of His divine mission.

Two suppositions only are possible respecting possession. It must have
been either a form of madness produced by natural causes, or a
manifestation of superhuman power. As the facts on which a judgment can be
formed are meagre, I have not ventured to determine which of these two
theories is alone consistent with the facts and phenomena of the New
Testament. I have therefore taken either alternative, and shown, that
neither does the theory that it was mania interfere with the claims of the
Gospels to be accepted as historical documents, nor is the language
attributed to our Lord contrary to the truthfulness of His character; nor
does the supposition that it was due to superhuman causes contradict the
established truths of mental science.





CHAPTER XIII. THE ALLEGED CREDULITY OF THE FOLLOWERS OF JESUS.


The allegation that the followers of Jesus, and the early Christians
generally, were a body of intensely credulous and superstitious people,
may be considered as not only the stronghold of those who impugn the
historical character of the Gospels, but also as the arsenal from which
they draw no small number of their weapons of attack. A credulity which
knew no limits is liberally ascribed to them as showing how every
miraculous narrative might have been invented. They have even been
credited with a facility of inventing fictions, and then deluding
themselves into the belief that they were facts which they had actually
witnessed. Thus it has been asserted that it was their firm belief that
the Messiah ought to have wrought miracles; that Jesus himself may not
even have professed to perform them; but that the fervid imaginations of
His followers invented a set of miracles, attributed them to Him, and
ended with the belief that they had seen Him perform them. On the other
hand, whenever these objectors are pressed by a difficulty in accounting
for the origin of particular phenomena in the Gospels, they retire on the
credulity of the followers of Jesus as into a kind of citadel, in which
they consider themselves so strongly entrenched that they may defy every
attack. There is also another important purpose which it is made to serve.
It is asserted that it renders worthless the testimony of the followers of
Jesus as to the actual occurrence of miracles.

The allegation takes two forms:

1st. That the followers of Jesus were the prey of a credulity and
superstition which greatly exceeded the limits of the ordinary credulity
of mankind; and that therefore the value of their historical testimony is
destroyed.

2nd. That the ordinary credulity of mankind with respect to the occurrence
of supernatural events is so great and widespread, as to render the
invention of miraculous narratives easy, and to destroy the credit of all
narratives containing them.

I propose to consider these subjects in this and the following chapter.

Nothing is easier than to charge a body of men with intense credulity and
superstition. Before, however, such charges deserve to have any notice
taken of them, they should be substantiated by direct proof. It is
impossible to meet them if urged in a mere general form. Fortunately, the
author of “Supernatural Religion” makes a number of specific and definite
charges, in which he endeavours to fasten an unspeakable degree of
credulity and superstition on the immediate followers of Jesus and the
authors of the Gospels, and refers to authorities in support of his
assertions. I will state his general position in his own words.

“We have given a most imperfect sketch of some of the opinions and
superstitions prevalent at the time of Jesus, and when the books of the
New Testament were written. These, as we have seen, are continued with
little or no modification throughout the first centuries of our era. It
must however be remembered that the few details that we have given,
omitting much of the grosser particulars, are the views absolutely
expressed by the most educated and intelligent part of the community; and
that it would have required infinitely darker colours adequately to have
portrayed the dense ignorance and superstition of the mass of the Jews. It
is impossible to receive the report of supposed marvellous occurrences
from an age and people like this, without the gravest suspicion. Miracles
which spring from such a hot‐bed of superstition are too natural in such a
soil to be the object of surprise; and in losing their exceptional
character, their claims on attention are proportionally weakened, if not
altogether destroyed. Preternatural interference with the affairs of life
and with the phenomena of nature was the rule in those days, not the
exception, and miracles in fact had apparently lost all novelty, and
through familiarity had become degraded into mere commonplace.”

“There can be no doubt that the writers of the New Testament shared in the
popular superstitions of the Jews.”

Before proceeding further, I must draw the reader’s attention to three
affirmations in this important passage.

1st. That the educated Jews of the time of Jesus were a prey to the
superstitions in question.

2nd. That the common class of Jews were a prey to yet grosser
superstitious.

3rd. That the followers of Jesus, who were chiefly Jews of the lower
classes, and the authors of the Gospels, shared in these superstitions.

The author devotes not less than fifty pages to a minute description of
the superstitions of the educated classes. These are alleged to have been
of so gross a nature, that the reader will get but a very imperfect
conception of the point at issue, unless I give a brief sketch of some of
them.

I. The Jews are affirmed to have believed in an innumerable multitude of
angels, whose agency was continually displayed in the ordinary phenomena
of nature. They presided over and energized in its ordinary operations, as
for instance, in thunder, lightning, the winds, the seas, frost, hail,
rain, mists, heat, light, &c.; heaven and earth in fact are filled with
them, and they are also continually busying themselves in human affairs,
of which minute details are given.

II. They are alleged to have believed in a demonology of the most
phantastic description. To this I have elsewhere sufficiently alluded.

III. They are likewise affirmed to have believed that the sun, moon and
stars are rational beings, and traces of this belief are distinctly
affirmed to exist in the New Testament.

IV. The belief in sorcery, witchcraft and magic is affirmed to have been
universal among them. To give the reader an idea of the grossness of these
beliefs, to which even the educated classes are affirmed to have been a
prey, I must quote the following passage:

“Amulets consisting of seals, or pieces of paper, with charms written upon
them, were hung round the necks of the sick, and considered efficacious
for their cure. Charms, spells and mutterings were constantly said over
wounds, against unlucky meetings, to make people sleep, to heal diseases,
and to avert enchantments; against mad dogs for instance, against the
demon of blindness and the like, as well as formulæ for averting the evil
eye, and mutterings over diseases.” Here follow several pages of
unutterable absurdities. It is not too much to say, that there was hardly
an occurrence in nature, and hardly an event of daily life, which was not
influenced by these supernatural powers, and very frequently in a manner
unspeakably grotesque. If such were the beliefs of educated people, urges
the author (and he tells us that he has omitted the grosser forms of
them), what must have been those of the lower orders, and the extent of
their degraded superstition? It must be kept constantly in mind that the
followers of Jesus chiefly consisted of persons taken from the lower
strata of society. But the author in express words charges them with
sharing in such beliefs. If they did not, the reference to them would have
no bearing on the argument.

We have therefore in this portion of the work a definite issue raised for
our consideration. It is no vague charge of general boundless credulity
and superstition, such as is generally urged against the followers of
Jesus and the authors of the Gospels. It is presented to us in a clear and
definite form. I fully allow that if this charge could be substantiated,
it would deprive the Evangelists of all historical credit.

The issue which is thus raised is consequently one of the highest
importance. It will be necessary therefore for us carefully to examine the
mode in which it is attempted to establish the truth of these charges. The
process is an extremely singular one.

When we have a set of writings before us and endeavour to estimate the
amount of credulity and superstition to which their authors were a prey,
the only legitimate mode of proceeding is to subject these writings to a
thorough and minute examination as to the indications of credulity and
superstition contained in them. Having done this, it then becomes our duty
to ascertain the amount of general good sense or the want of it which is
displayed by them in these or in other subjects, and then to form a
general conclusion by fairly balancing the indications of credulity and
good sense against each other. The author, however, seems not to have had
the smallest idea that it is the duty of the critic to ascertain what are
the facts of the case as presented by the writings, and to form a general
conclusion by a careful review of the entire evidence. On the contrary,
his mode of reasoning is to quote a number of opinions held by various
writers, widely separated from each other in time, to charge them on the
contemporaries of our Lord, and refer to nearly every passage in the New
Testament which has even the remotest bearing on the subject, for the
purpose of fastening these superstitions on the followers of Jesus. Such a
mode of reasoning can only avail to establish a foregone conclusion.

Again: In forming a judgment on such a subject, it also behoves us most
carefully to consider whether the subject‐matter of the writings is or is
not of such a character, that if their authors had been addicted to such
gross superstitions, there would not of necessity have been frequent
examples of them in their pages? Also whether the absence of such
references, when the subject on which they were writing was certain to
have suggested them to their minds, does not constitute a strong proof
that these superstitions were not held by them? In one word, it is absurd
to attempt to charge writers with boundless credulity and superstition, on
the ground that a multitude of grotesque beliefs were prevalent in their
day. No author can be held responsible for beliefs other than those which
appear in his pages, especially when subject‐matter of his writings would
have been certain to call them into activity if he had entertained them.

The course pursued by the author is directly opposite to this. He has been
compelled to adopt it, because it is the only method by which extreme
credulity and superstition can be fastened on the writers of the Gospels.
The available contemporary literature, besides that contained in the New
Testament, which can throw light on the opinions of the followers of
Jesus, is very small. The point which requires proof is that the entire
Jewish nation, _without any exception_, was a prey to the basest
superstition and credulity. Unless this can be established, the charge
against the authors of the Gospels falls to the ground, except so far as
it can be proved by the Gospels themselves. The contemporary proof of it,
however, failing, he endeavours to substantiate his position by quoting
the opinions of writers separated from the times of Jesus by several
centuries, and affirming that they were held by the entire body of His
contemporaries. Such a mode of reasoning is useless to support anything
but a foregone conclusion.

A brief reference to the authorities relied upon will at once expose the
fallacy of the argument. First, certain differences existing between the
Septuagint and the Hebrew Scriptures are pressed into the service, which
are no instances of either credulity or superstition. Then the frequent
idolatries which prevailed among the Jews prior to the captivity are
adduced as a proof of the superstitious tendencies of the Jewish mind, as
if superstitions prevalent at the time of Becket were any evidence of the
condition of English thought at the present day. Next the absurdities in
the Apocryphal Book of Tobit are put in as evidence, although the contrary
evidence afforded by the other books of the Apocrypha, which contain no
traces of such superstitions, is left without mention. The writings of an
Assyrian Jew who lived about three hundred and fifty years before the
Christian era are about as valid to prove the opinions held by Christ and
his followers as the opinions of Cicero would be in evidence of the
beliefs of Constantine. Then reference is made to the angelology and
demonology contained in the writings of Philo, who was unquestionably a
contemporary of our Lord; but not the smallest hint is given to the reader
that he was deeply tinged with the principles of the Neo‐Platonic
philosophy, a mode of thought wholly alien from that of the Palestinian
Jews, or that Philo was himself an Alexandrian Jew. Next the book of Enoch
is quoted, which (whenever it was written, for its date is uncertain) is
unquestionably not the work of a Palestinian Jew. This book, which is an
Apocalypse, contains a monstrous angelology and demonology, and abounds
with extravagances. Although part of it was written prior to the Advent,
other portions are clearly subsequent to it. Its author is unknown; but it
is highly probable from certain resemblances of expression between it and
the New Testament, that he was acquainted with portions of the latter; or,
to state the theory of unbelievers, that the authors of the New Testament
borrowed from it. If this view is true, then it is evident that they must
have rejected its angelology and demonology, for that contained in the New
Testament is utterly dissimilar in character to that which we read in the
book of Enoch. As far, therefore, as the evidence of this book is
concerned, it affords a distinct proof that they were not a prey to its
monstrous superstitions. This remark is equally applicable to the book of
Tobit, and the writings of Philo.

But there is a reference made to Philo which deserves particular notice as
an exemplification of the mode adopted by those who endeavour to fix the
charge of unbounded credulity on the authors of the Gospels. I cite the
author.

“The belief that the sun, moon and stars were living entities possessed of
souls was generally held by the Jews at the beginning of our era, along
with Greek philosophers, and we shall presently see it expressed by the
fathers. Philo Judæus considers the stars spiritual beings full of virtue
and perfection, and that to them is granted lordship over other heavenly
bodies, not absolute, but as viceroys under the Supreme Being. We find a
similar view expressed regarding the nature of the stars in the
Apocalypse, and it constantly occurs in the Talmud and Targums.”

“We find,” says the author, “a similar view expressed regarding the nature
of the stars in the Apocalypse,” _i.e._ that the stars are spiritual
beings full of virtue and perfection, and that they hold lordship over
other heavenly bodies. No quotation is made from this book, but four
passages are referred to in a note as proving this. They are as follows:
“The mystery of the seven stars which thou sawest in my right hand, and
the seven golden candlesticks. The seven stars are the angels of the seven
churches, and the seven candlesticks which thou sawest are the seven
churches.” (Rev. i. 20.) With as good reason may it be said that the book
of Revelation teaches the rationality of candlesticks.

“These things saith He that hath the seven Spirits of God, and the seven
stars.” (Rev. iii. 1.) It is difficult to see how this proves that the
author of the Revelation was of opinion that the stars were rational
entities. The next passage referred to (Rev. iv. 5) makes no mention of
stars at all, but of “seven lamps of fire burning before the throne, which
are the seven Spirits of God.” The last reference is: “I saw a star fall
from heaven unto the earth; and to him was given the key of the bottomless
pit.” (Rev. ix. 1.) Here a star is spoken of as a living agent; but to
refer in proof of this to a book which is full of symbols and is an avowed
vision is ridiculous and misleading. On the contrary, the New Testament
supplies the most unquestionable evidence that its writers were free from
this superstition, into which even philosophers had fallen.

The next writer referred to, to prove that the followers of Jesus were a
prey to credulity and superstition, is Josephus, in his narrative of the
signs which preceded the destruction of Jerusalem.

To what extent Josephus embellished these signs may be a question. Most of
them have a very heathen aspect, and it is unquestionable that he was much
disposed to conciliate his heathen readers. It is sufficient to observe
that the pages of the New Testament contain nothing resembling them.

But the chief source whence these ineffable puerilities are derived, and
charged on the contemporaries of our Lord, and through them on the writers
of the New Testament, is the Talmud. Probably there are no writings in
existence from which a more monstrous set of absurdities can be collected
than from those of the Talmudists. But how does this prove that this mass
of nonsense was believed in by the Jewish nation in our Lord’s day? One
portion of the Talmud, the Mishna, was composed between A.D. 180 and A.D.
200, or some years after the date assigned by unbelievers to the Fourth
Gospel. The lateness of this date is urged by them as conclusive proof
that that Gospel does not embody the real traditions of the early
followers of Jesus. How then can it be urged with any thing like
consistency that the Mishna adequately represents their views respecting
the order of nature? But the other portion of the Talmud, the Gemara, was
not put forth in a written form prior to A.D. 500. To quote works thus
remote in time as proofs of the superstitions of the followers of Jesus,
is to adopt a course which if applied generally to history, would reduce
it to a tissue of falsehoods. Bishop Jewell was a believer in witchcraft;
but it would be absurd if some future writer were to quote the writings of
modern spiritualists as a proof that he believed in their doctrines.

Nor is it true that the opinions of the masses of a nation are at all
adequately represented by those of its learned men, especially when
learning, as in the case in question, assumed the most unbounded licence
of speculation. In most cases the common sense of the masses who are
brought into contact with the hard facts of daily life will preserve them
from puerilities, into which learning, which draws exclusively on the
imagination, is certain to fall. There is sufficient evidence of the
superstition of the masses during the middle ages; but nothing would be
more absurd than to quote some monstrous opinions held by the great
scholastic writers to prove that they were the current opinions of the
vulgar. Yet the principle here adopted is to adduce opinions propounded by
learned writers, who lived centuries afterwards, as a proof that they were
current among the entire Jewish race at the time of Jesus Christ.

The remaining references in proof of this position are still more
noteworthy. To establish the superstition of the Jews at the time of the
Advent, a set of opinions are adduced which were held by Christian
Fathers, whose writings cover a period of not less than four centuries. A
list of them will be sufficient. The apocryphal Barnabas and Hermas,
Justin Martyr, Theophilus, Clement of Alexandria, Tatian, Tertullian,
Cyprian, Origen, Augustine, Jerome, Chrysostom, Lactantius, Eusebius, and
Cyril of Jerusalem. A number of grotesque opinions are collected from
these writers, as though they could have any possible bearing on the
question whether the followers of Jesus were able correctly to report what
they saw and heard.

I submit therefore that the facts adduced utterly fail to establish the
charge of intense superstition and credulity against the followers of
Jesus. But I go further, and affirm that they furnish the means of giving
a most conclusive proof of the contrary.

These quotations furnish us with a clear and conclusive proof, which is
also furnished by the entire range of literature, that when writers are
the prey of a definite class of superstitions, their pages will afford
abundant evidence not only of their existence, but of their nature and
character. This, of course, must be qualified by the supposition that the
subject‐matter on which they wrote is one suitable to call their latent
superstitions into activity. This always happens when the works are of a
religious character. In such cases they will faithfully reflect the
superstitions entertained by their authors. This is pre‐eminently the case
with all the writings in question. They are all on religious subjects, on
which they allowed their imaginations to run riot. They entertained a
number of grotesque opinions, and accordingly we find in their writings a
grotesque super‐naturalism, exactly corresponding to the peculiar ideas of
each individual writer. On the principle that “out of the abundance of the
heart the mouth speaketh,” we may be quite certain that when an author is
extremely credulous and superstitious, it will find expression in his
pages whenever he is writing on a subject on which his imagination gives
scope to exhibit them.

I put the argument as follows: all writers exhibit in their pages the
superstitions to which they are a prey. The writers of the New Testament
do not exhibit the superstitions in question. It follows therefore that
from these particular superstitions they are free. Consequently the charge
against them of intense superstition and credulity falls to the ground, as
far as it rests on the evidence in question.

The amount of subject‐matter in the New Testament which, independently of
a general belief in miracles, the opponents of Christianity can designate
as superstitious, is of a very limited and definite nature. It may be said
to be almost exclusively confined to a belief in the reality of
possession;—a few cases of disease occasioned by Satanic agency;—an
occasional intervention of angels, and their power to act on nature;—and
perhaps that demonology and heathenism were in some way connected with
each other. This is the sum total of such beliefs which appear on the face
of the New Testament. They appear in unequal degrees in the works of
different writers; and viewing them as mere human compositions, we have no
right to charge on one writer the beliefs of another. The book of
Revelation, and its imagery as professedly merely seen in a vision, cannot
fairly be introduced into this controversy.

If then we concede, for the sake of argument, that the Jews in the time of
Christ were a prey to the extravagant superstitions referred to; if they
believed that the whole course of nature and human life was incessantly
interfered with by an army of spirits in numbers passing all
comprehension, and that these interferences were of the most grotesque and
phantastic character; if they universally believed in magic, charms and
incantations, the non‐appearance of such phenomena in the pages of the New
Testament is a proof that its authors were not a prey to the current
superstitions of the day. No inconsiderable number of supernatural events
are recorded in their pages, but unbelief itself is compelled to admit
that they are all of a dignified character, with perhaps the exception of
the entrance of the demons into the swine, and the discovery of the piece
of money in the mouth of the fish. From what is monstrous, grotesque and
phantastic, they are absolutely free.

If it be conceded, for the sake of argument, that miracles are possible,
then it cannot be denied that those of the New Testament, taken as a
whole, stand out in marked contrast to the current supernaturalism of
superstition. Their whole conception is lofty; there is in them nothing
mean or contemptible; they subserve a great purpose; they are worthy of
that great character to whom they are ascribed, Jesus Christ. I put the
question boldly: how is it, if the followers of Jesus were a prey to the
degrading superstitions above referred to, that we find no indications of
them in their pages? Also: how is it possible that men of such a character
should have invented such a number of noble creations? Let unbelievers
account for this on any principle which a sound philosophy can recognise.

But further: the Gospels mention a certain number of possessions, and
their cures effected by our Lord. Here then we are in the very presence of
a demonology such as was actually believed in by the followers of Jesus.
Here, therefore, is the very condition of mind and outward circumstances
where, if they had been a prey to the phantastic and disgusting beliefs
about demons above referred to, such beliefs would certainly have made
their appearance in their pages. But, as I have shown, the demonology of
the Gospels stands in marked contrast to that of the Talmud, of Josephus,
and of the Christian Fathers. We have no fumigations of demoniacs with the
liver of a fish, we hear nothing of a demon drawn out of a man’s nose, and
overturning a basin of water, nothing of a demon inhabiting every private
closet. On the contrary, their action is described as mental, and, through
the mind, affecting the body, with the exception of a few doubtful cases.
I am not here arguing whether a belief in the reality of demoniacal
possession is a superstition or not. But I affirm that if the writers of
the New Testament had been a prey to the superstitions with which they are
charged, these are the narratives in which they could not have failed to
make their appearance. Again: It has been affirmed that they held a
monstrous angelology. I reply that although angels are unquestionably
stated to have appeared, and their existence is affirmed by the writers of
the New Testament, still their recorded appearances are rare. They are
confined to a few very remarkable occasions, viz.: the Annunciation and
birth of our Lord, the temptation, the agony in the garden, and the
resurrection. Surely this does not look as if the authors of the Gospels
thought that they were always interfering with the course of nature or the
events of life. In the Acts of the Apostles, they appear at the Ascension;
once to liberate St. Peter, and at another time the Apostles, from prison;
to direct Philip to preach to the eunuch; twice in a vision to St. Paul;
and Herod Agrippa is also said to have been smitten by the ministry of an
angel. There were certainly many occasions when, if the writers had
believed in the habitual intervention of angels, we should have found them
introduced. Thus an angel is not sent to deliver Paul from prison, or to
still the tempest, but simply to assure him of his safety. St. Paul
enumerates in a passage of some length the various dangers which beset him
in his missions, especially mentioning the perils he encountered in
travel. But neither he nor St. Luke once refers to an angelic intervention
in his favour. In numerous passages he refers to dangers and persecutions
which he encountered. But it is our Lord, and not angels, who delivered
him. Is this consistent with a belief in their habitual intervention in
nature? If he was the visionary which he has been asserted to have been,
would he not have been continually seeing visions of angels for his
protection?

In St. Paul’s writings we are in the presence of documents which are in
the highest degree historical. Even those who endeavour to prove that the
Gospels and the Acts were not written until the second century, are
obliged to allow that at least four of the most important of his letters
were written within 30 years after the Crucifixion, and that the evidence
that four of the remainder are his, vastly preponderates. Here then we are
in the presence of historical documents of the highest order, compared
with which such a writing as the book of Enoch is worthless, and the
Talmud and the Fathers are modern compositions. What light then do these
letters throw on the opinions of St. Paul and the Pauline Churches? Much
every way: they let us into the secret of their inner life. They tell us
that these Christians thought they possessed certain supernatural gifts;
that St. Paul asserted that he wrought miracles; that demons by an
invisible agency tempted men to sin, and opposed the progress of the
Gospel; but beyond this there is scarcely a trace of angelology or
demonology in them. With these epistles in our hands, is it credible that
their writer, or those to whom he wrote, held a multitude of monstrous and
phantastic beliefs on this subject? Are not these writings characterized
by supreme good sense? Do they not in this point of view marvellously
contrast even with those of the earliest Fathers? The writer undoubtedly
believed that unseen spiritual agencies were capable of acting on the mind
of man, and that they were active agents in the production of moral evil;
but where is the evidence that he considered that external nature was
under their control, or that they made themselves visible to the mortal
eye? Although he affirms that he possessed a supernatural illumination on
religious subjects, only on two occasions does he refer to visions as
actually seen by him; and he directly affirms that he had the power of
distinguishing the ecstatic from the ordinary condition of his mind. Even
with the aid of the Acts of the Apostles, we can only add a few more to
the number. Surely this is not the mental condition of a man who was a
prey to unbounded superstition. Contrast the amount of good sense in the
epistles of St. Paul with an equal number of consecutive pages from the
Fathers and the Talmud, and the difference is enormous. Where are the
ineffable puerilities found in these writings even hinted at in those of
St. Paul?

Again: if we include in our examination the other writings of the New
Testament, they wholly fail to supply us with any evidence of the
superstition or credulity of their authors. On the contrary they are
characterized by the marks of uniform good sense. It will be doubtless
objected that they, as well as St. Paul, were bad logicians, and that
their applications of the Old Testament Scriptures are inapt: but this
does not affect their trustworthiness as historians. They were undoubtedly
men of great religious fervour, yet they are both sparing in the use of
miracles, and when they report them, the miraculous action is never
represented as extending beyond the necessities of the case. Their
miracles consist of simple acts, as for instance the cure of diseases, but
all marvellous superadditions are wanting. It has been urged that in
comparing the miracles of the Gospels with other miraculous narratives, we
have no right to do more than compare the external miracle of the one with
the external miracle of the other; as for instance a resurrection with a
resurrection, or a cure of blindness recorded in one with a similar case
recorded in another; and not to take into account either the external
circumstances or the moral aspect of the miracle. I have elsewhere proved
that this position is untenable. But for the purpose of the argument let
us here assume that all the circumstances may be the invention of the
narrator. If it be so, it proves at any rate the soundness of his judgment
and the elevation of his ideas, _i.e._ that it is impossible that he could
have been either intensely superstitious or credulous. How is it possible,
I ask, for minds which were a prey to such monstrous beliefs as those
which we have been considering, to have dramatized miraculous narratives
of the elevated type of those contained in the Gospels? Would not all the
circumstances with which they invested them be the counter‐part of their
own degraded conceptions?

But there is one most distinctive phenomenon presented by the Gospels
which affords a conclusive proof that neither their authors nor the
followers of Jesus could have been a prey to either degrading superstition
or credulous fanaticism. I allude to the fact that, whatever theory may be
propounded to account for their origin, the Gospels, as a matter of fact,
unquestionably contain a delineation of the greatest of all characters,
whether actual or ideal, that of Jesus Christ. I shall hereafter draw
attention to the portraiture of this character for the purpose of proving
that they are veritable historical documents. In this place I refer to it
simply for the purpose of proving that their authors and those who
invented the alleged fictions of which their contents consist, were
possessed of a soundness of judgment which is wholly inconsistent with the
truth of the assertion that they were a prey to boundless superstition or
credulity.

For the purpose of the argument I must assume that this character is a
fictitious one, because to assume that it is a delineation of an actual
historical character, would be to take for granted the entire question at
issue. If the Jesus of the Evangelists is an historical personage, there
can be no doubt respecting the claims of the Gospel to be a divine
revelation. But even if we make the assumption above mentioned, it is
quite clear that those persons who invented the character, or who put it
together out of the number of legendary stories floating about in the
Church, must have been possessed of a sound judgment, and the highest
appreciation of what was great and noble. The character we have before us,
and it is confessedly the noblest which can be found either in history or
fiction. The inventors, whoever they were, have succeeded in portraying a
great harmonious whole. Such a character could only have been delineated
by men possessed of sound discriminating judgment. The more the Gospels
are depreciated as histories the more does this depreciation establish the
credit of their authors as the successful delineators of an ideal
character, to which they have succeeded in imparting a naturalness which
men of the most exalted genius have mistaken for an historical reality.
They must have been, therefore, consummate masters of the art of ideal
delineation. The mental powers adequate to effect such results are those
of high genius, to which in this case must have been added a very elevated
conception of morality. Such mental qualities are never exhibited by men
who are the prey of gross credulity and superstition. The great ideal
delineations of poets have been only capable of being produced by the
_élite_ of the human race. On the other hand, if we assume that the
character is a fictitious one, and its inventors men of the mental calibre
which they are affirmed to have been by those against whom I am reasoning,
it would have been inevitable that its proportions should be marred by the
introduction into it of traits marked by meanness, puerility, and
monstrosity.

In support of this assertion we have no occasion to appeal to theories but
to facts. Happily antiquity has preserved to us several delineations of a
mythical Jesus on which the inventors have stamped the most unmistakable
impress of their own credulity and superstition. I need not say that I
allude to the Apocryphal Gospels, the delineations of Jesus which they
contain, and above all to their miraculous narratives. Those who reiterate
these charges against the authors of the Canonical Gospels, are very slow
to draw attention to their bearing on this portion of the argument. In the
Apocryphal Gospels we are brought face to face with the legendary spirit
exerting itself in the invention of miraculous stories. There can be no
doubt that their authors were both extremely credulous and superstitious;
and their miraculous narratives give us the precise measure of their
credulity. There is every reason to believe that two of these compositions
were written as early as the second century. What, I ask, is the general
character of the miracles which they have attributed to Jesus? There can
be only one answer. They are mean, ridiculous, degraded, burlesque,
destitute of all trait of moral grandeur. If the authors of the four
Gospels, or the inventors of their miraculous narratives, whoever they may
have been, had been a prey to similar credulity and superstition, the
marks of them would have been indelibly stamped on their pages.

These documents also contain accounts of miracles wrought by Jesus, some
of which, as bare facts, are precisely the same as some recorded in the
Canonical Gospels, _i.e._ they contain accounts of resurrections from the
dead, and the cure of diseases. I ask, do their accompanying circumstances
and moral aspect stand as nothing in our estimate of the credibility of
their authors? Compare the account of the resurrection of Lazarus, or that
of our Lord himself, with the resurrections in the Apocryphal Gospels, and
mark the difference. Compare likewise the other miracles, which, as bare
facts, resemble one another. The one have the stamp of historical
probability, and precisely fit in with the lofty character of Jesus; the
other of an unbelievable legend, in which the character is degraded to a
level with the conceptions of the inventors.

Let not unbelievers, therefore, decline to grapple with the question. Let
them cease to pass it over in silence. I propose to them the following
questions for solution. If both sets of Gospels originated with minds
intensely credulous and superstitious, whence has come the difference
between them? Why is the one set of miracles dignified, and the other
mean? Whence the entire difference of their moral aspect? Why is the Jesus
of the Canonical Gospels the most elevated personage in history, and the
Jesus of the Apocryphal ones, one of the most mean and silly? If two of
the Apocryphal and the four Canonical Gospels are the production of the
superstition and credulity of the same century, whence the marvellous
contrast between them? Which of the Fathers of the second or third century
was equal to the task of reducing a mass of floating legends, the
creations of numbers of superstitious men, into their present form, as
they stand in our Canonical Gospels? Would they not certainly have
coloured the events with their own absurdities? If, on the other hand, it
be allowed that the Canonical Gospels are the production of the first
century, and the Apocryphal Gospels of subsequent ones, how came the
credulous followers of Jesus to produce fictions dramatized with such
admirable taste in the first century, and the same spirit in subsequent
centuries to present so striking a contrast? The only possible answer
which can be returned to these questions is that the phenomena of the
Canonical Gospels are inconsistent with the supposition that their
miraculous narratives are the invention of men who were the prey either of
credulity or dense superstition; they must have been men well able to
distinguish between a genuine miracle and a mythic parody of one.

But it has been urged that the dignified character of Jesus induced the
compilers of our present Gospels to select all the miraculous stories of a
high type which were current in the hotbed of Christian fanaticism, and to
attribute them to Jesus, and to suppress all of a contrary description. If
this be the true solution of the facts, then it certainly follows that the
compilers of the Gospels must have been free from the superstitions of the
times in which they lived. Otherwise, how came they to select all the
elevated stories and attribute them to Jesus, and to consign those of a
lower type to a well‐merited oblivion? Is it not a fact that credulous and
superstitious people have often attributed what is contemptible and mean
to elevated characters? Let the Apocryphal Gospels bear witness. It
follows, therefore, that even on this supposition the question must be
decided in favour of the authors of our present Canonical Gospels, that
they must have been free from the degraded superstitious to which their
fellow‐believers were a prey.

But there is yet another problem, even if we assume the above supposition
to be true, which urgently demands solution. If, among the mass of legends
with which the history of Jesus was incrusted, a certain portion of the
miraculous stories were of an elevated type, who among His credulous and
superstitious followers were the inventors of them? Were they men of like
credulity with the remainder? There are only two alternatives. They were,
or they were not. If they were, I ask, how came they to invent elevated
stories? If they were not, then it follows that there were persons among
His followers who were neither intensely credulous nor superstitious. If
the latter be the alternative adopted, then the theory which I have been
considering, which attributes to the followers of Jesus such a degree of
those qualities as to render their historical testimony valueless, falls
to the ground.

It follows, therefore, on a careful consideration of the position, that
the data on which the charge which we have been considering is made
against the followers of Jesus and the authors of the Gospels utterly fail
to establish it; and that the phenomena of the New Testament prove the
contrary to have been the fact.





CHAPTER XIV. THE LOVE OF THE MARVELLOUS—ITS BEARING ON THE VALUE OF
TESTIMONY TO MIRACLES.


It has been objected that the love of the marvellous has in every age
constituted so remarkable a phase of human nature as greatly to weaken, if
not entirely to invalidate the testimony to the performance of miracles.
It is alleged that the great historians of ancient times have recorded a
number of supernatural occurrences which are now summarily rejected as
incredible: and it is therefore argued that all narratives of miraculous
occurrences must share the same fate. This objection differs from that
which I have considered in the former chapter, in that it avoids the
necessity of imputing to the followers of Jesus and the authors of the
Gospels a degree of superstition and credulity greatly in excess of that
which characterizes the majority of mankind. It will be therefore
necessary to give this subject a careful consideration.

It is an unquestionable fact that the human mind has been in all ages
disposed to accept a number of narratives of supernatural occurrences upon
very insufficient testimony, and which the principles of sound reason lead
us to reject as untrue. Such beliefs have been peculiar to no one period
of the world’s history, but have been co‐extensive with the human race;
and they form one of the most remarkable facts in our nature. Many of the
ancient historians have reported such occurrences without apparent
suspicion; or if they entertained any doubts respecting their truth, they
did not venture even to whisper them into the popular ear. What is still
more; eminent men of the ancient world did not scruple to act in matters
of this kind a part which they knew to be deceptive, because they held the
opinion that such beliefs, though they might be laughed at by
philosophers, were necessary to act as restraints on the vulgar. Thus we
know, on the most indubitable authority, that a Roman Augur could gravely
act his part before the public at the very time that he was secretly
laughing in his sleeve at the ridiculousness of his art. It does not
therefore follow because the ancient historians have reported numbers of
occurrences of this nature with considerable gravity, that they accepted
them as facts. They were frequently influenced by the spirit of
accommodation, thinking it necessary for the welfare of society to keep up
the vulgar ideas on the subject. It would be inaccurate therefore to
attribute all the accounts of such things which we meet with in ancient
writers to simple credulity, or to infer from them that they did not
believe in an inviolable order of nature of some kind. With respect to the
arts of magic, however, one feels that even the greatest of the ancient
writers contemplated them with a kind of bated breath. This would appear
to have been the state of mind even of Tacitus, with one exception the
greatest historian of the ancient world, and one who was intimately
acquainted with the various systems of its philosophy. Conscious as he was
that vast numbers of the professors of magic were impostors, he seems
hardly able to realize the fact that the whole art was a delusion.

It has been affirmed that the progress of physical science has destroyed
in this nineteenth century all belief in the actual occurrence of the
supernatural, and that it now prevails only in some of the dark corners of
Christendom. The widespread belief in the phenomena of spiritualism, which
is certainly very far from being confined to religious men, and from which
some students of physical science have not been exempt, is a striking
proof of the contrary. All that can be affirmed with truth is that, in
these modern times, these forms of belief have taken a new direction.
Modern science has done much to establish and spread the belief that the
operations of all natural, _i.e._ material forces are uniform. Many of its
students have even brought themselves to the belief that the occurrence of
any event whose existence is due to the action of any other than the known
forces of nature, is impossible: though this is far from being the
invariable, and is certainly not the necessary result of its study. Still,
probably, the most ardent votary of these opinions would find it difficult
to keep himself wholly free from terrors arising from unseen causes, if
they were aroused by a suitable apparatus. The study of physical science
is far from being a universal safeguard against the invasions of
superstition. Its causes lie far more deeply rooted in our nature than the
principles of physical science can reach. Nor is it able to guard against
an extravagant use of the imagination.

Whether, in the present state of our philosophy, we have fully penetrated
to the depths of this principle thus working in the mind of man, may admit
of doubt; but its presence there, as an essential portion of our nature,
is an unquestionable fact. We are not without the means of getting a
general idea of its character. It is doubtless intimately connected with
those principles of our nature which constitute man a religious being, and
which form a fundamental part of his mental constitution. As such it must,
like all our other faculties, have a legitimate and an illegitimate
action. It points, as we shall see, to the existence of the supernatural.
A rational religion forms the object for its appropriate exercise.
Whenever man has been destitute of this, and his reason has been weak,
this principle, devoid of its proper object, has always manifested itself
in various forms of extravagance. So powerful is it in the human mind that
even avowed atheism has not been proof against its power. Julius Cæsar was
an atheist, and possessed one of the most powerful minds that ever
inhabited the human frame. Yet, on the great day of his triumph, he
ascended the steps of the Capitol for the purpose of averting an avenging
Nemesis. Napoleon the First was no atheist, though few persons who have
ever lived have been more free from the restraints of religion or
superstition. Although he possessed a mighty intellect and was no stranger
to the truths of modern science, yet even he believed in his star. Many
other instances of men of powerful intellect who disbelieved in religion,
yet who entertained singular superstitions, might be easily adduced. I
refer to them for the purpose of proving that the principle out of which
such things originate must be one which is deep‐seated in the nature of
man, and therefore an essential portion of it. If it is founded on a
fundamental principle of our mental constitution, it follows that it must
have a legitimate subject‐matter on which to exercise its powers, and that
the abnormal forms of it which are so frequently manifested are the
results of some disorder in its action. What then is its nature?

There are certain principles deeply‐seated within us, which form as
definite a portion of ourselves as even our rational faculties, and which
directly prompt to the belief in the supernatural, and therefore point to
its existence. Among these, the faculties of imagination, wonder,
reverence and awe, hold a conspicuous place. It is impossible to deny that
they form portions of the actual constitution of our minds, however we may
account for their origin. Is it then our duty to eradicate them because
they prompt us to the belief in something which transcends the visible
order of nature? This will hardly be affirmed by the most thorough‐going
sceptic; for if it be our duty to do so, the human mind must be a mass of
disorder in the midst of a universe of order. If we were to make the
attempt (for indeed it has been attempted) the result would be to upset
the balance of our mental constitution, and it would terminate in failure.
Human nature, taken as it is, constitutes a whole. These faculties hold in
it a place subordinate to reason and to conscience. When our rational, our
imaginative, and our moral powers act harmoniously together, they
constitute man a religious being.

But, for the purposes of the present argument, I have simply to draw
attention to the fact that imagination, wonder, reverence and awe form an
essential portion of our being. It would be in the highest degree
undesirable to get rid of them, even if we were able. How mighty is the
influence of the first of these principles! It lies at the foundation of
everything that is great and noble in man. To it are due the magnificent
creations of poetry; in fact everything which adorns life, and much of
that which raises us above the mechanical forces of nature. Destitute of
it, our reason could not act; nay, it could not even exist; and we should
be reduced to the mere mechanical action of the understanding, the wheels
of which would be in danger of rusting. Nor has the faculty of wonder a
less definite place in our being. It is closely connected with our
imagination, which supplies it with objects fitted to excite it, and ought
to be exercised under the guidance of reason. Its object is the great and
the vast, shall I not say, the infinite? Regulated by reason and united
with awe, it produces reverence. Reverence points to the existence of some
object which is really worthy of veneration. Veneration can only be
legitimately exercised on that which is truly venerable. As such it
directly points to a personal God, and refuses to rest in anything short
of Him as able fully to gratify its aspirations. Viewing them as a whole,
the legitimate object of these faculties, and the subject from which they
can receive their fullest gratification, is that Great Being who
everywhere manifests Himself in this glorious universe. But when man has
ceased to contemplate in nature a rational power guiding and controlling
it, the principle of wonder has frequently prompted him to gratify its
aspirations by peopling it with a multitude of phantastic creations. When
under the influence of awe, he has contemplated it in its terrible
aspects, unguided by a being who possesses a moral character, these
feelings have prompted the imagination to fill it with beings who excite
the feeling of superstitious dread.

Although the vastness of the material universe and the energy of its
forces can excite the feeling of wonder, yet that of reverence refuses to
find in the mere extension of space, or the might of material forces, any
object adequate to its demands. The vastness of the material universe may
fill the mind with wonder and admiration; but even wonder refuses to rest
satisfied with a vastness of which the limits are known. It demands
something which is conceivable, which yet runs up into the regions of the
inconceivable. But even here the feeling of reverence can find nothing on
which to energize. It directly points to a moral being in whom it can find
a centre, and it will find its gratification in nothing short of one. To
talk, as many Pantheists do, of feeling reverence for an impersonal
Universe, is a misuse of language. What! to reverence a Being, if the
impersonal Universe can be called a Being, which is everlastingly casting
up the bubbles of existence in the form of moral agents, and is
everlastingly devouring them, devoid alike of consciousness, volition, and
a moral nature!

It follows, therefore, if these principles form a constituent portion of
our nature, that like all our other faculties, they must admit of a right
and a perverted use. It is therefore absurd to lay down as a general
principle, because they admit of an illegitimate use, that the whole class
of phenomena connected with them are worthy of nothing but summary
rejection, without exercising our reason on the evidence on which they
stand. All that their existence can prove in reference to this subject is
something which is very like a truism; that mankind, being liable to all
kinds of mistakes and errors, and having frequently fallen into them, no
class of phenomena ought to be accepted as facts, until evidence of their
occurrence has been adduced which is capable of satisfying our reason. But
this is a very harmless proposition.

There can be no doubt that to a perverted use of these faculties is due
the belief in a kind of current supernaturalism, which in various forms
runs through the entire history of man. This has owed its origin to the
efforts of the imagination to supply objects for its gratification when
the reason is feeble and the moral faculties have become perverted. Hence
the readiness of large masses of mankind to accept narratives of marvels
without regard to the evidence on which they rest. They are accepted
simply as gratifying the principle of wonder. This is the cause of what I
have designated by the term “Current Supernaturalism.”

But because all our faculties admit of abuse, and the higher they are, the
greater, this forms no reason for rejecting their legitimate use, or the
entire subject‐matter on which they operate. As I have observed, the
principle is found energizing wherever man exists. Although in one age it
may be more active than in another, it is alike the inheritance of the
civilized man and the savage. It has displayed itself in the creations of
the poet and the writer of fiction; in the various forms of religious
thought; in the production of ghost‐stories and pictures of the under‐
world; in the creation of the various forms of demonology, witchcraft and
magic; in the milder form of fairy‐tales; in charms and incantations, and
in efforts to pry into the future. Even in philosophy and science we may
trace its influence, not only in aiding and suggesting their great
discoveries, but in propounding multitudes of startling theories, erected
on the smallest basis of fact. These not only gratify this feeling, but
promise an apparently royal road to knowledge, which avoids the long and
tedious one of only propounding theories after a careful investigation of
facts. But in the regions of intellectual pursuit, its abnormal
manifestations are pre‐eminently in the science of historical criticism,
in those numerous departments of historical inquiry where the facts are
few and vague. Here nothing is easier than to supply the absence of facts
by theory, and to erect a magnificent edifice on a foundation of sand. The
ancient soothsayer gratified vulgar curiosity by guessing at the events of
the future. There is a species of modern soothsaying which expends its
energies in guessing at the events of the past. Such guessing presents an
unspeakable fascination to a large number of minds, by its happy mixture
of fiction and fact, and is the true analogue to many of the forms of
ancient thought. It has been necessary to draw attention to these things
for the purpose of proving the widespread influence of this principle on
human nature. Its action has manifested itself in different forms in
different ages; but the cause is the same in all, the existence in man of
a principle which points to the existence of God, and which can only
receive its adequate gratification in Him.

The action of similar principles produces in man the love of the
extraordinary, the unusual and the novel. This is so powerful that unless
it is kept in subordination to reason, it produces a number of fictitious
beliefs. So strong is it, that it may be truly said of large numbers of
mankind that they spend all the time which they are not compelled to
devote to the serious realities of life, in little else than hearing and
speaking of some new thing. It is undoubtedly the cause of a large number
of fictitious beliefs, and produces, in minds where the rational powers
are weak, a ready acceptance of the unusual, the strange, and the
wonderful. The same principle, acting in conjunction with others, when
uncontrolled by reason, has occasioned many of the exaggerations which are
to be found in history.

Still, as one of the fundamental principles of our minds, it cannot but
have a legitimate sphere of action. United with curiosity, it is the chief
source of all mental activity. It is that which produces the earnest
desire to penetrate into the regions of the unknown. As such, it is
essential to the activity of our rational faculties, and has been the
exciting cause which has rendered all our great discoveries possible.

It follows, therefore, that if these principles form part of our mental
constitution, the objection that they destroy the value of miracles as a
testimony to a revelation is absurd. We might as well argue that because
the love of the marvellous has generated a belief in a number of fictions
as facts in ordinary history, it invalidates its testimony to events which
have really happened, or renders all unusual occurrences incredible. I
will illustrate this by an example. Herodotus tells us in his history that
there were certain tribes who dwelt in wooden habitations erected over
lakes, and he gives us several particulars as to their manner of life.
This fact, until a comparatively recent period, might have been pronounced
incredible, and have been supposed to have originated in the simple love
of the marvellous, either in the author or in his informants. I own that
when I first read the historian, this was the opinion which I formed
respecting it. But we now know that he reported an actual fact. On the
other hand it is certain that a great portion of the details of the
Scythian expedition of Darius must have originated in the undue activity
of the mental faculties to which I have referred, _i.e._ that they are
inventions. But if the principle of summarily rejecting narratives of
events which lie beyond our experience is valid, because the abnormal
activity of certain faculties has urged men to invent, and believe in a
multitude of fictions, the account of the lake‐dwellings given by the
historian ought to have been rejected as equally unworthy of credit, with
some of the occurrences of the Scythian expedition. It is impossible to
deal with the events of history on any general _à priori_ principles; they
must stand or fall on their own intrinsic evidence.

It follows, therefore, that if these principles admit of an abnormal
action, we are still by no means justified in a summary rejection of all
unusual occurrences. It only forms an adequate reason for closely
scrutinizing the evidence on which the credibility of history rests. The
faculty of imagination, instigated by that of wonder, has produced
widespread beliefs in a mass of supernatural events which are utterly
incredible. But as that faculty must have a legitimate action somewhere,
it is clear that its abuse can be no valid reason for the rejection of all
supernatural occurrences, unless for other reasons they are proved to be
incredible. The whole must be a question of evidence and of reason. If it
formed a valid ground for the rejection of miracles, it is clear that the
principle on which it is founded cannot be confined to any such narrow
limits, but must have a wide and general application, and extend to all
that is wonderful and unusual.

It is an unquestionable fact that a large proportion of mankind in every
age have eagerly sought the means of affording gratification to the
feeling of wonder, and that this has been the means of introducing into
history a considerable number of fictions of various kinds. But does this
invalidate its testimony? Does it justify us in rejecting whole classes of
phenomena as unworthy of consideration? We have already seen that whatever
principle is applied to miracles must be equally applied to all
extraordinary events, because as phenomena there is no difference between
them. We admit that many fictions have got into history. These it is the
duty of the critical historian to detect and displace. Will anyone affirm
that their introduction invalidates the events in the history of the past,
which rest on an adequate attestation? What that is, I shall consider
hereafter. Whatever effect this may have exerted on the minor details of
history, will anyone affirm that its great outlines do not rest on a
substantial basis of truth? It is impossible to lay down on these subjects
a wide and comprehensive canon which will save us the trouble of careful
and accurate investigation. All reports of extraordinary events, marvels,
and miracles, must stand or fall with the adequacy of the evidence which
can be adduced for their occurrence, and cannot be decided by any
artificial rule. If the evidence is good, they must be accepted,
notwithstanding the fact that extensive classes of marvels have been
accepted by mankind on testimony wholly insufficient to establish their
truth. If the evidence fails, they must be regarded as the result of the
abnormal exercise of faculties which yet have a legitimate place in our
mental constitution.

Nothing is more common than the assertion that at certain periods of
history, mankind have been ignorant that there is an order in nature; and
that this ignorance has given these faculties such unbounded play as to
render all reports of supernatural occurrences unworthy of credit,
notwithstanding any amount of evidence which may be alleged in their
favour. It is urged that, if men are ignorant that there is an order in
nature, to such a state of mind nothing would be really supernatural; but
every event, whether supernatural or otherwise, would be viewed as a
matter of ordinary occurrence. To this state of mind a miracle would
convey no meaning, and therefore it would be valueless as evidence of a
divine revelation. In other words, it has been affirmed that there have
been certain conditions of mankind in which the love of the marvellous has
been so powerful, and the action of reason so weak, as to destroy all
sense of the distinction between a natural and a supernatural occurrence.

I reply that the Christian revelation was not addressed to such a
condition of the human mind. On the contrary, it was made after a long
course of preparation for its introduction. After the whole course of
previous history, under the controlling providence of God, had prepared
the way for His Advent, Jesus Christ appeared. The Gospel was not preached
to men in the lowest state of barbarism, but to civilized man. What may
have been the ideas of degraded savages, at some early period of the
history of our race, it will be needless to inquire. With mankind in such
a condition we have nothing to do in the present controversy, but with the
state of thought in the Roman Empire during the first century of our era.
This was no period of mental darkness or of boundless credulity. In the
early ages, when every phenomenon of nature was viewed as due to the
action of some capricious god, the belief in an order of nature must have
been in a high degree vague and uncertain. But such a state of things,
whatever it might once have been, had long since passed away. The period
of history now under consideration was one of widespread intelligence,
varying greatly in different parts of the empire, but still one of
intelligence and civilization.

It is impossible for men to attain a degree of progress necessary for the
existence of civilization, and still to remain ignorant that a large class
of natural occurrences follow an order which does not admit of deviation.
Civilization would be impossible unless this were generally recognized. It
is in fact founded on its recognition. At the same time, there is a class
of phenomena which are not recognized by the ordinary mind as following a
definite order. It is within this alone that the beliefs of current
supernaturalism exert their activity. But the supernatural occurrences
narrated in the New Testament do not belong to this ambiguous order of
events, and are therefore unaffected by them.

There is a large class of events which civilized man cannot help
recognizing as belonging to a definite order and sequence, and where the
belief in the marvellous exerts little or no influence. The violation of
this order he views as impossible. Thus he cannot fail to recognize the
fact that men cannot walk on the water without support; that thousands of
persons cannot be fed by a few loaves and fishes; that diseases never
leave us instantaneously by no other agency than that of a touch or a
word; and that men who have been actually dead have never returned to
life. No amount of the love of the marvellous has ever induced men to
consider such occurrences possible. Whatever may have been the current
supernaturalism of the ancient world, it did not embody beliefs of this
description. This is proved by the entire course of ancient history. Its
supernaturalism is of a wholly different order. The love of the
marvellous, therefore, has never so confounded the distinction between the
natural and the supernatural among civilized men, as to have deprived a
miracle of its significance.

Such an assertion respecting any part of the Roman Empire, during the
century which preceded and that which followed the Advent, would be
contrary to fact. On the contrary, certain classes of events which were
reported to have happened, were invariably believed to have been really
supernatural. They were so far from being considered as devoid of meaning,
that persons supposed to be skilled in the art of interpreting them were
habitually consulted as to what they were intended to denote. The only
exceptions to this were those occurrences which were supposed to have been
brought about by the art of magic. These seem to have been viewed as in
some measure due to the existence of occult powers in nature, the results
of which the professors of the art had succeeded in mastering. It may be
safely affirmed that at no portion of this period was the love of the
marvellous so prevalent in any portion of the Roman Empire as to have
deprived a real miracle of its signification.

It follows therefore that it is impossible to lay down any abstract rule
which will save us the trouble of investigating the evidence of miracles,
because mankind has in all ages been greatly influenced by the love of the
marvellous, and under its influence has invented a number of occurrences
which reason pronounces incredible. The action of this principle is far
from being confined to subjects connected with religion, but extends over
the whole range of literature. While it is quite true that, under the
influence of various principles of this description, numbers of fictions
have been reported by ancient historians, this forms a valid reason only
for rejecting those which rest on no adequate attestation. The adoption of
the other principle would render all knowledge of the past impossible. All
the faculties of our minds admit of a legitimate and an illegitimate use.
To reject the results of the right use of our faculties, because they are
capable of a wrong one, is absurd.

But an opposite view may be taken of the entire question, and one which is
dictated by the principles of reason.

Several principles in man directly point to the existence of the
supernatural. Among these veneration and conscience occupy a conspicuous
place. These acting in conjunction with reason constitute man a religious
being. Man alone of all living beings is capable of religion. The
principle of reverence finds its only adequate gratification in the
contemplation of moral perfection. Moral perfection is inconceivable where
personality and volition are not. This principle therefore forms the
counterpart in man which is directly correlated to the being and the
perfections of a personal God. It follows that instead of these principles
invalidating the existence of the supernatural, they establish it. The
conception of immensity is the adequate subject‐matter on which our
faculty of wonder works. The highest conception of greatness is realized
in God. In Him therefore this faculty receives its most perfect
realization. Reverence points to greatness united with supreme moral
goodness. The imperfection of man will not satisfy it. It therefore impels
man to bow down before the throne of One who transcends the imperfections
of the created universe. If there be a personal God, supremely good, who
is the Creator and moral Governor of the universe, nothing is more in
conformity with our highest reason than that He should make a further
manifestation of Himself to man, in addition to that which He has made in
the material universe.





CHAPTER XV. OUR SUMMARY REJECTION OF CURRENT SUPERNATURALISM CONSIDERED IN
ITS BEARING ON THE EVIDENCE FOR MIRACLES.


There can be no doubt that there is an enormous mass of supernatural
beliefs which we feel at once justified in rejecting without troubling
ourselves to inquire into the evidence on which they rest. Others also we
reject because on investigation we find them altogether destitute of
evidence. Others again which rest on evidence which would be sufficient to
establish an ordinary fact, we reject notwithstanding this attestation, on
the ground of their inherent improbability. It has been objected that our
summary rejection of the great mass of current supernaturalism puts the
case of miracles out of court, and renders them so improbable, that it is
unnecessary minutely to examine the evidence which can be adduced in
support of them. I propose therefore in this chapter to consider the
reasons for our summary rejection of the great mass of current
supernaturalism, and its bearing on the credibility of the miracles in the
New Testament.

First: I observe that the stories of current supernaturalism are not the
only ones which we reject in a summary manner. We treat in the same way a
great number of other stories which offend against the principles of
common sense. It is clear that in these latter cases, we do not reject
them merely because they are supernatural, but because they are generally
incredible. The fact therefore that we thus reject a number of absurd
narratives without inquiry into the evidence on which they rest, cannot be
urged as a reason for rejecting other occurrences which are not involved
in any such absurdity. If the principle is valid against miracles, it must
be equally so against other extensive classes of facts. To assert that
miracles are thus absurd or ridiculous is to assume the point which ought
to be proved.

Secondly: We reject the great mass of current supernaturalism because it
is unable to assign any adequate reason for its existence. When it is
alleged that a miracle has been performed as an attestation of a
revelation, if it forms a necessary portion of such attestation, this is
an adequate reason for the miracle. But the great mass of current
supernaturalism is utterly unable to assign any reason for its existence;
or if reasons have been given, they are quite inadequate. Of this the case
of magic is an example. If it were a reality, it would not only interfere
with the order of nature, but no reason could be given for this
interference. If, on the other hand, its phenomena were alleged to be due
to secret forces in nature, then they would belong to an order of
grotesque and monstrous phenomena, which we are justified at once in
refusing to believe to be due to the action of intelligence or goodness;
and on the supposition that there is a moral Governor of the universe, it
is utterly incredible that they would occur either by his agency or with
his permission.

Perhaps the best attested occurrences of current supernaturalism are the
phenomena of spiritualism. It will tend to the illustration of this
subject, if we consider the grounds on which we reject a large portion of
its reported phenomena quite irrespectively of the evidence produced in
favour of their reality, and ascribe the belief in them to the effect of
an excited imagination, and in some cases to imposture. In considering
this subject, it is not necessary to examine whether the phenomena alleged
by spiritualists, if true, would be really supernatural, or belong to an
order of nature hitherto unknown.

Many of the manifestations of spiritualism possess a grotesqueness which
we see in no other class of natural phenomena. If they are alleged to be
the results of the action of natural forces previously unknown, then they
must belong to a class of forces which contrast in a most remarkable
degree with all known ones; that is to say, the known and the unknown
forces of nature must be utterly out of harmony with one another. I am now
speaking on the supposition that such forces are merely natural ones, not
under the guidance of intelligence. In that case they must have been
always in existence, only latent; yet they now for the first time manifest
themselves under very special circumstances and conditions, such as are
highly favourable to the existence of delusion. The abnormal character of
these phenomena, so entirely at variance with the known order of nature,
forms the strongest ground for the conviction that they cannot be the
results of the action of unknown natural forces. It would require an
overwhelming amount of evidence to convince us that these two sets of
natural forces, distinguishable by the strongest possible contrasts, (viz.
those which produce the visible phenomena of nature, and those which
produce another class, intermittent in their action, of which
grotesqueness and monstrosity are the most striking characteristics, and
which only manifest their existence under circumstances calculated to
throw a suspicion on their reality), can be the results of the action of
forces which have been present in nature during all past time.

But further: these phenomena, if natural, must belong to an order of
nature which is not only unlike the visible order, but would throw its
action into confusion. I am here reasoning on the supposition that the
moral order of the universe is due to the action of nothing but physical
forces. If this be so, it must form a portion of the existing order of
nature. But the forces which, on the supposition of the truth of
spiritualism, must be capable of being brought into activity, would
interrupt that moral order of which we are actually conscious. Their
action, if real, would interrupt the entire course of the moral world. No
man would be safe from their intrusion. Even in our deepest retirement we
should never be free from the invasion of their prying curiosity. Such a
power would be incompatible with the moral order of society. It follows,
therefore, that an unknown order of nature, presenting the most violent
contrast to the visible one, whose phenomena do not follow an invariable
but an intermittent law, and are only alleged to manifest themselves under
conditions favourable to imposture, possesses such a degree of inherent
improbability as to justify its rejection, even by those who recognise the
action of none but material forces in the universe.

But to those who recognise the present order of nature as due to the
action of a wise and intelligent Creator, it becomes absolutely incredible
that forces such as the phenomena of spiritualism require for their
production, can form a portion of that order which He has created, as they
contradict every conception which we can rationally form of his character.

But if these phenomena are viewed as due to the action of supernatural
agency, the reality of their occurrence becomes still more inconceivable.
If such agency is capable of being exerted, we can only conceive that its
exertion is permitted for the realization of some known end. Yet the
phenomena of spiritualism serve no purpose whatever. Spiritualists have
been holding their _séances_ for many years; but no one practical result
has yet been realized by them. The spirits of the departed have been
invoked, but they have never yet given a single useful response. Surely if
there be a spirit world, its occupations cannot be the production of the
abnormal, the mean and the grotesque. Its employments must possess some
pretensions to be esteemed dignified. It has been alleged that such
manifestations help to convince the incredulous of the reality of the
immortality of man. On the contrary, the idea that spirits can be guilty
of such phantastic tricks can only help to throw discredit on the
doctrine. It follows, therefore, that if the phenomena of spiritualism are
viewed as due to supernatural causes, it is utterly incredible either that
the Governor of the Universe would permit such a course of action, or that
the spirits themselves, unless deprived of reason, would exhibit
themselves in such a variety of phantastic forms, and for no other
apparent purpose than to effect a number of capricious interferences with
the visible order of nature. This incredibility is so great as to entitle
us summarily to reject the idea that the reputed phenomena can be actual
occurrences. In addition to this, the alleged manifestations are made
under circumstances pre‐eminently suited to excite suspicion.

The phenomena of modern spiritualism are a fair illustration of the
general character of the current supernaturalism of the ancient world. It
was for the most part equally senseless and absurd. The attestation to its
actual occurrence was of a very inferior character to that which can be
urged in favour of the alleged facts of spiritualism. I have merely taken
notice of these latter as an illustration of the general aspect of the
phenomena of current supernaturalism, and as placing before us the reasons
which fully justify us in rejecting a large portion of it without minutely
inquiring into its evidence.

I will now proceed to contrast the entire mass of current supernaturalism
with the miracles of the New Testament for the purpose of still further
illustrating the grounds on which we reject it, while we claim for the
latter that their reality must be tested by the evidence which can be
adduced in favour of their actual occurrence.

Let me again draw attention to the fact that the only correct conception
of a miracle in connection with this controversy, is that of an event
wrought in external nature with a definite moral aim and purpose.
Extraordinary events, to which no such moral aim and purpose can be
assigned, may be unusual occurrences, but are in no proper sense of the
words evidential miracles. An isolated occurrence of an extraordinary
nature, and an event marked with a definite moral purpose, are two wholly
different things. The one may be credible, and the other wholly
incredible. We habitually recognise the distinction in ordinary life, and
it entirely affects our judgment of the probability of an event. We esteem
the action of a particular person quite credible under one set of
circumstances, which we should reject as incredible under another. Thus if
we were informed that a friend with whom we were intimately acquainted,
had precipitated himself from a height into the water, supposing him to be
sane, we should not believe it. But if we received the information that he
had done it to save a person from drowning, and we knew that he was a man
of courage, we should accept the fact without the smallest hesitation. On
this account, therefore, the moral aspect of the alleged miracle is of the
utmost importance; and it is necessary for its correct conception that it
should not only be an extraordinary occurrence in external nature, but
that it should take place at the bidding of another, and in order to
render it credible, that it should be calculated to effectuate some
definite moral purpose.

Alleged supernatural events, which are destitute of these accompaniments,
are always liable to a very high degree of _à priori_ suspicion. In fact
it would be difficult to prove them to be supernatural. All that could be
affirmed respecting them would be that they were very unusual occurrences,
which it was impossible to account for by the action of any known force.
If the universe is under the government of God, all supernatural action
must either be the result of His agency or permission. If He interferes
with the order of occurrences, it is evident that such interference cannot
be capricious, but must have a definite purpose. We are justified,
therefore, in refusing to accept occurrences as supernatural, which are
destitute of all appearance of purpose in their performance.

But further: the alleged miracle must be consistent with the character of
God, before it is possible to attribute it to Him as wrought by His direct
agency. This rests on the same principle on which we refuse to credit the
reports of actions performed by men which are contradictory to their well
known characters. But this is far more certain with respect to God than it
can be of man. Human characters can at best be but imperfectly known, and
there are unseen depths in the human heart which sometimes render actions
possible, which stand in striking contrast to the general character of the
agents. To state the truth generally, as it is impossible that man can act
in opposition to the inmost principles of his moral being, so in a far
higher degree is it impossible that God can contradict the perfections of
His moral nature. This being so, it follows that we are entitled to reject
all miracles alleged to have been wrought by God, which are contrary to
His moral attributes; all which are low, mean, or grotesque, and unfitted
to realize an elevated moral purpose.

It will here be objected that if these positions are true, demoniacal
miracles are rendered impossible. I have already pointed out that if
demoniacal supernaturalism is affirmed in the New Testament to be an
actuality, its action is described as being limited to the human mind, and
that whatever permitted activity is conceded to it, always bears the most
distinctive marks of being from beneath. There is no possibility of
mistaking between such supernatural occurrences and the miracles of God.

Such then are our general principles, the truth of which can hardly be
contested. If they are true, the great mass of current supernaturalism is
worthy of rejection for the following reasons.

1. While it claims to be the result of supernatural agency, it is
destitute of all definite moral purpose, and such moral impress as it
bears is mean and degraded. What end, I ask, was it designed to serve? It
involved an almost continual interference with the order of nature; or if
at times it claimed to be due to occult forces, they were only suited to
confound the visible order of the universe. I am reasoning on the
supposition that there is a God who rules the world. This being so, it is
impossible to conceive that such a mode of acting can be His. Under this
head of supernaturalism fall all the monstrous and the grotesque, and the
entire range of magical phenomena.

2. The whole range of ancient supernaturalism is in contradiction to
everything which we can conceive of the moral character of God. Let us
take as an illustration the phenomena of Soothsaying. Who can believe that
God employed the entrails of slaughtered beasts as the means of revealing
the future? or that it was consistent with his character to manifest his
will through a multitude of monstrous portents? There is perhaps not a
single occurrence of ancient supernaturalism which does not offend against
our primary conception of the Divine character; and, therefore, the whole
is worthy of summary rejection.

3. Ancient supernaturalism assigned its occurrences to no cause adequate
to produce them. Those who asserted its reality, referred it to the action
of deities who possessed very limited power, or to occult powers in
nature. Such occult powers we now know to have no existence, and the power
attributed to the supposed deities was far too limited to be capable of
producing the results in question. All reputed events, the alleged cause
of which is unable to produce them, we are entitled to reject without
further investigation.

4. A large amount of ancient supernaturalism rested on no evidence
whatever. Of those portions for which any reasons were alleged, the
evidence itself was of a character exactly suited to discredit it. Of this
kind was the whole of the supernaturalism connected with the state
religions. These were in the hands of men who used them for the purpose of
acting on the vulgar, and who therefore readily accepted the report of
anything, however incredible, which could subserve their end. Other
portions were palpable impostures worked for the basest and most selfish
purposes. A very brief acquaintance with the nature of the evidence on
which it rests is sufficient to justify us in rejecting it without
entering on any inquiry as to its details.

Such being the general character of ancient supernaturalism, it is absurd
to argue that its existence is a reason for rejecting along with it
another order of supernaturalism, which stands contrasted with it in every
particular. We might as well urge the existence of a vast number of
counterfeits as a reason for rejecting everything which is genuine. We do
not reject it because it is supernatural, but because it is utterly
incredible. A statement of a few particulars will exhibit the contrast
between it and the supernaturalism of the New Testament in a striking
point of view.

1. Christian supernaturalism alleges that its occurrences are the result
of the action of a force which, if present, is certainly adequate to
produce them. Ancient supernaturalism alleges no cause whatever, or one
wholly inadequate.

2. Christian supernaturalism alleges a perfectly adequate purpose for its
production; that purpose being the attestation of the divine mission of
Jesus. Ancient supernaturalism alleges either no purpose at all, or a
degraded one.

3. Christian supernaturalism is made to centre around the greatest and
most exalted character that has ever appeared in history. Ancient
supernaturalism, instead of being connected with the most eminent
characters of the times, directly connects itself with the most
questionable.

4. Christian supernaturalism is stamped throughout with a high moral
character and aspect. This is wholly wanting in the supernaturalism of the
ancient world.

5. Christian supernaturalism belongs to an elevated order and type; the
objects realized by it were for the most part benevolent. The mode of its
action was dignified and the effects produced by it were instantaneous,
following directly on the word of the agent. The mode in which its
miracles were performed is characterized by the utmost simplicity,
destitute alike of anything scenic or fantastic, entirely in harmony with
the great character who performed them. The supernaturalism of the ancient
world is marked by the opposite characteristics.

6. Christian supernaturalism, or to speak more correctly, the greatest
supernatural occurrence which Christianity records, namely the
Resurrection of Christ, has not only left a mighty impression on history,
but has created a civilization of its own which embraces all the
progressive nations of the world, and exerts a powerful influence even on
those who deny its truth. The only result wrought by the supernaturalism
of the ancient world was the moral degradation of those among whom it
prevailed.

7. The supernaturalism of Christianity rests on an attestation which even
unbelievers would allow to be quite sufficient to establish the truth of
any ordinary facts. The other rests either on no testimony at all, or on
one which is open to the gravest suspicion.

Such are some of the striking contrasts which distinguish the
supernaturalism of the New Testament from that of the ancient world. When
two series of events present such opposite features, it is the duty of a
sound philosophy to trace these distinctions to their causes, and to show
what is the nature of the forces which have impressed on each series its
own peculiar characteristics. Instead of this, however, we are invited to
pronounce both alike incredible; that is to say, because one series of
events is deeply impressed with characteristics which render them
incredible, we are invited to pronounce a similar condemnation on another
series, which is distinguished by the most opposite features, and which
has only this point in common with the former, that both belong to an
order of events which we designate as supernatural. Nothing can be more
unphilosophical than such a mode of reasoning. We reject the one series in
a mass, not because the events which it contains are supernatural, but
because they are absolutely incredible. A similar rule we apply to
ordinary, no less than supernatural occurrences.

But it will doubtless be objected that there is another series of
supernatural occurrences which rational men, with a few exceptions, greet
with an equally summary rejection, viz. the long series of ecclesiastical
miracles which extends in an almost unbroken succession from the second
century of our era nearly to the present day. These, it has been urged,
are alleged to have been wrought in attestation of Christianity, and bear
some remarkable analogy, as facts wrought in external nature, to the
miracles recorded in the Gospels. It is argued that if we reject the one,
we are for the same reason bound to reject the others.

The following points may be considered as admitted.

First; That every century from the second downwards has been characterized
by a considerable amount of pretension to the possession of supernatural
power; and during this period one section of the Christian Church claims
to have actually wrought miracles.

Secondly; Several of these miracles, viewed merely as phenomena in outward
nature, are precisely similar to those recorded in the New Testament.

Thirdly; When a miracle is alleged to have been performed at the present
day, as has recently been the case in a neighbouring country, not only all
unbelievers in the possibility of supernatural occurrences, but also all
rational Christians concur in its summary rejection, not merely on the
ground that the evidence is insufficient, but that the event is in itself
incredible.

Fourthly; That rational men reject in a similar manner and for similar
reasons the great mass of ecclesiastical miracles as unworthy of serious
inquiry into their attestation.

With respect to the second point, I have already observed that if we view
miracles merely as phenomena in external nature, and if a similar belief
in a current supernaturalism, which we have seen to be one of the
phenomena of human nature, prevailed in the Church, it was to be expected
that the current forms of ecclesiastical supernaturalism would adopt those
of the New Testament for their basis, and consequently that it would
abound in narratives of resurrections from the dead and the cures of
various diseases. This is actually the case. It may also not only excite
our wonder that the model was not far more exactly copied, but that
ecclesiastical, and especially monkish miracles, which constitute an
overwhelming majority of the miracles of Church history, abound so largely
in features which stand in such marked contrast to the miracles of the New
Testament, their peculiar characteristics being the same as those of
ancient supernaturalism, viz. the monstrous and the grotesque. This point
is one which demands the serious consideration of unbelievers; for if, as
they aver, they are both due to the action of the same causes, this
diversity requires to be accounted for. The truth is, that with the
exception that both series contain reports of miracles which are similar
or mere objective occurrences, in other respects their characteristics
differ widely.

With respect to the fact that rational men concur in the rejection of
modern miracles, it should be observed that this is not because all
supernatural events are believed to be incredible; but because the reputed
events themselves possess characteristics which excite in us the gravest
suspicions of their truth; and especially because by far the greatest
number of them are well known not to have originated in mere credulity,
but in actual imposture. Men or communities who have once lent themselves
to the deliberate coining of miracles, are of blasted reputations, and
whenever marvellous occurrences are reported by such persons, we are
justified in rejecting them without further inquiry. It is evident that
these are the grounds on which such stories are rejected, and not simply
because they are supernatural, since those who believe in the
supernaturalism of the New Testament concur with those who disbelieve in
it, in thus rejecting them.

I must now briefly consider the general grounds on which we reject the
great mass of ecclesiastical miracles, while we accept those in the
Gospels as actual occurrences.

The general ground of our rejection of them is precisely the same as that
on which we reject the supernaturalism of the ancient world. The only
thing which distinguishes them from the latter, is that they contain a
number of events which viewed as bare facts are similar to those recorded
in the Gospels. In every other respect the contrast is complete. I shall
only draw attention to a few considerations which might otherwise escape
the notice of the reader.

The ecclesiastical miracles were not wrought in attestation that the
person working them had a divine commission, but that a divine power
permanently abode in the Church. The qualification which was thought
necessary for the exhibition of this power was the possession of a great
degree of reputed sanctity. The exercise of miraculous power was supposed
to prove, not that its possessor had a divine commission, but that he was
a saint. The saint was supposed to have in himself some inherent power of
working miracles, bearing a considerable analogy to that which the woman
with the issue of blood believed to be possessed by our Lord. A miraculous
power in the shape of a virtue issued from the saint. Hence the
supernatural power which was ascribed to dead men’s bones and to relics.
Such a supernatural power is devoid of everything which presupposes a
divine purpose, and of all evidential value. Its frequency would destroy
the nature of a miracle as an attestation of a divine commission, and
involve an interference with the order of nature, which would destroy the
sense of its regularity, the knowledge of which is so essential to our
well being, as well as to the conception of a miracle. Moreover, the
supernatural agency is not supposed to be due to the direct intervention
of God, but to some imaginary virtue residing in man.

The ecclesiastical miracles of which we have anything like a detailed
account, when they are not simply regarded as due to the direct sanctity
of the person performing them, are never alleged to be performed in proof
of a divine commission; but when they are asserted to have been
evidential, they are affirmed to have been wrought in proof of some
doctrine, or in favour of some particular party in the Church; or, what
invests them with a still greater degree of suspicion, in favour of the
power of a particular order. The last class of alleged miracles may at
once be dismissed as due to simple imposture. The first are strongly
contrasted with those of the New Testament, where we cannot find the
account of a single miracle wrought in attestation of a doctrine, the one
or two apparent exceptions being really performed to attest a divine
commission. But when a miracle is wrought to prove an irrational doctrine,
the credibility of the miracle perishes with the truth of the doctrine. We
are, therefore, justified in rejecting the miracles whenever we have
sufficient evidence that the doctrines which they were alleged to attest
are untrue. Again: whenever a particular party alleges a divine
attestation in its favour, its character may be known by its works. The
parties in the Church who have claimed such miraculous attestation, have
proved by their actions that the idea of a divine interference in their
favour is incredible, as being inconsistent with the divine character.

It is perfectly true that at the present day all rational men, with few
exceptions, concur in rejecting almost the entire mass of ecclesiastical
miracles. They do this, however, not because they believe miracles to be
impossible, but because they are persuaded that God will not work one on a
light or trivial occasion, and because the great mass of such pretended
miracles are characterised by marks which are inconsistent with the idea
that they have been wrought by God. With our larger acquaintance with the
order of nature, we no longer believe that it is possible for miracles to
be wrought by any inherent virtue in things themselves, but that if
performed at all, it can only be by the direct agency or permission of the
Author of Nature. In a word, the general incredibility of the
ecclesiastical miracles, and their repugnance to our conception of the
mode of the divine acting is the reason why we reject them altogether.

It is also unquestionably true that at the present day a great majority
even of religious persons would receive with no little incredulity the
report of a miracle, while such incredulity would not have existed at a
former period. This is due to two causes: first, our increased knowledge
of the permanence of the forces of material Nature; and secondly, our
belief that supernatural occurrences can only take place by the direct
agency and permission of God, and not by means of my supernatural power
inherent in particular persons. From this we draw the inference that
almost all the alleged ecclesiastical miracles must be rejected as
inconsistent with the divine character. We are of opinion, therefore, that
a miracle wrought for any other purpose than the attestation of a
revelation is not credible; and as from the nature of the case revelations
must be rare, we summarily reject all reports of supernatural occurrences
as impostures, or the offspring of a heated and undisciplined imagination.

Now although this is generally the case, yet it is unquestionable that if
a miracle was reported to us with a pre‐eminently strong attestation, no
rational person would refuse to give a serious consideration to the
evidence merely because the event was supernatural. A reported miracle
would doubtless be attended with no inconsiderable degree of antecedent
improbability; but if a man with whom we were intimately acquainted, of
sound intellect, and high moral character were to allege that he had
performed an act which, if real, must have been indisputably miraculous,
it would be altogether irrational to reject his assertion summarily as
unworthy of consideration merely because in all ages miraculous stories
have been extensively believed. The application of such a principle would
lead us into the grossest error.

This question has a very important bearing on the subject before us. It
has been alleged that while nothing has been more common than the
ascription of miracles to eminent men, it is impossible to find a man of
sound judgment and high moral character who has deliberately affirmed that
he has performed one himself. That such affirmations have been very rare
is certain, and for the simple reason, that miracles have been very rare
occurrences. But the assertion that no such cases are to be found is
inaccurate. One, at all events, exists, although probably the only one,
but it is that of a man of the most undoubted veracity, the Apostle Paul.
As I have already observed, four of the most important writings which have
been attributed to him are admitted by a vast majority of those
unbelievers who are competent to form an opinion on the subject, to be his
genuine productions. These are before us, and we can form from them a full
judgment as to the character of the man. In them he distinctly tells us
that he performed miracles. He writes: “I have therefore whereof I may
glory in those things which pertain to God. For I will not dare to speak
of any of those things which Christ hath not wrought by me to make the
Gentiles obedient by word and deed, through mighty signs and wonders, by
the power of the Spirit of God; so that from Jerusalem, and round about
unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the Gospel of Christ.” (Rom. xv. 18,
19.) Here at least we have a direct affirmation on the subject. It is not
the only one made by him. But there is also one which is equivalent to
another affirmation made by One whom unbelievers must admit to have been
the greatest man who ever lived, Jesus Christ Himself. Those with whom I
am reasoning allow that the discourses in the Synoptic Gospels are
accounts of His real utterances. In them He directly affirms that He
performed miracles.

Even those against whose opinions I am arguing, will concede that the
characters of Christ and St. Paul stand at the greatest height of moral
elevation. If there are any other persons whose utterances have been
handed down to us, who have deliberately made this affirmation, their
numbers are unquestionably few. Certainly no other thoroughly great and
elevated character has done so. This is a remarkable fact and well worthy
of consideration. While many of the Fathers have affirmed that miracles
were performed by others, not one of them has affirmed that he has wrought
any himself. The supernaturalism of the New Testament differs, as we have
seen, from all other alleged kinds of supernatural occurrences. It differs
moreover in this respect, that one of the persons through whose agency
these miracles are declared to have been performed, has made a deliberate
affirmation that he wrought them; and that the founder of Christianity, in
recorded utterances which are admitted to be genuine, has likewise
asserted that miracles were wrought by Him.

It follows, therefore, that our summary rejection of all the current
supernaturalism which has been alleged to have taken place at various
periods of history, is quite consistent with our accepting as true the
series of supernatural events recorded in the New Testament, which are
distinguished by characteristics of an entirely different order.





CHAPTER XVI. GENERAL OBJECTIONS TO MIRACLES AS CREDENTIALS OF A
REVELATION.


While considering this subject, it will be necessary to keep steadily in
view that miracles are not alleged in the New Testament to have been
performed to prove the truth of doctrines, but that a particular person
possesses a divine commission; or in attestation of particular facts, such
as the Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The truth of a divine commission being established, it follows that the
divinely‐appointed messenger must have some message to communicate. We
further infer that God will not intrust a message to any person whom He
has not previously fully enlightened as to the subject which he has to
communicate, and who would not truthfully communicate the message with
which he is intrusted. A miracle is therefore not only an attestation to
the divine commission of the person performing one, but also to the
adequate information and veracity of the messenger. Although a miracle is
not wrought to prove the truth of a particular doctrine, but that a
particular person is intrusted with a divine commission, we accept a
doctrinal statement as true, when made by a messenger thus attested,
within the limits of the message with which he affirms himself to be
intrusted, on the ground that such a messenger must both be truthful, and
possess adequate knowledge. In other words, our belief in the doctrinal
statement does not rest on the miracle, but on the veracity of God.

This is the affirmation made in the New Testament respecting the most
important class of the miracles which it records. As I have elsewhere
observed, not a single instance occurs in it of a miracle wrought for the
purpose of proving that a doctrine is true. Our Lord’s distinct
affirmation is, “The same works that I do, bear witness of me that the
Father hath sent me.” (John v. 36.) “If I say the truth, why do ye not
believe me?” (John viii. 46.) The miracles which are alleged to have been
performed by the Apostles for directly evidential purposes, were wrought
in proof of the Resurrection of Christ, and of their own divine
commission, which directly depended on it.

Let it also be observed that it by no means follows that every miracle
recorded in the New Testament was performed exclusively for evidential
purposes. This point I shall consider hereafter.

If these principles are correct, they will at once dispose of two
objections which are alleged against miracles: first, that they cannot
prove a doctrine; and secondly, that they cannot prove a moral truth. I
fully accept the statement that moral truths cannot be proved by the
evidence of miracles, but must rest on their own inherent evidence; and
that all positive duties rest on the command of God, to whom we feel, on
other grounds, that all love, reverence, and adoration are due. The truth
of doctrines also cannot be established by the performance of a miracle;
but when we accept them on external authority, they rest on the testimony
of God, and our full persuasion that He must be in possession of all
truth. Although, therefore, I accept as correct these principles, on which
the objection is founded, they have no bearing on the point at issue; for
the New Testament nowhere affirms that its miracles were wrought to prove
either doctrinal statements or moral truths, but facts.

1. It is objected that the prevalence of supernatural beliefs renders the
existence of miracles “so hackneyed as scarcely to attract the notice of
the nation to whom the Christian revelation was in the first instance
addressed.” (_Supernatural Religion._)

I reply that this objection contains two inaccuracies. First, it is not
true that the miracles of Jesus scarcely attracted the notice of those
among whom they were performed. The only authority on this point is the
New Testament itself, and this assertion contradicts its express
statements. Numerous passages in the Gospels directly affirm that the
miracles of our Lord attracted very general attention, and produced a
profound astonishment; and that those who had witnessed them considered
that there was a wide distinction between them and the miraculous
pretensions then current. His fame is represented as having been spread by
them in regions beyond Palestine; and great multitudes are stated to have
collected, both for the purpose of hearing Him and of being healed of
their diseases. The fourth Gospel represents our Lord as rebuking the
multitudes, for attending on Him for sordid purposes. It is quite true,
that notwithstanding the miracles, the body of the Jewish nation
ultimately rejected Christianity, though the epistles bear witness that
the Jewish element which was attracted into the Christian Church was
large. The assertion, therefore, is simply contrary to fact, that miracles
were in those days so common and hackneyed as to attract little or no
attention to him who professed to work them.

Equally inaccurate is the assertion that the evidence of miracles as the
attestation to a revelation was a “hackneyed” one. The Old Testament
professed to rest on miraculous evidence. This being the case, the Jews
were fully entitled to expect that if God made a further revelation of His
will, it would be accompanied by a miraculous attestation. But Judaism was
the only religion of the ancient world which professed to be founded on
the evidence of miracles. A belief in a current supernaturalism was no
doubt mixed up with the ancient religions, but its wonders were not
alleged to have been wrought in attestation of the fact that they were
revelations, nor even as attestations to their truth. The religion of the
Greeks possessed both priests and prophets; but they performed no miracles
in attestation of a divine commission. The only attestation of this kind
which they claimed was the utterance of obscure or mendacious oracles. I
am not aware that anyone who pretended to be a revealer of the divine will
in ancient times ever professed to perform visible and palpable miracles
in proof of his assertions. Similar is the position of the old religions
which still exist in the modern world. Many of them abound in stories of
the most fantastic manifestations of their gods in ancient times. Their
votaries believe in the efficacy of magic, charms, and incantations. But
none of these things have been affirmed to have been wrought in
attestation of a divine commission. Mahometanism claims, in the strictest
sense, to be a divine revelation; yet the Koran even offers apologies for
the fact that its founder wrought no miracles in attestation of his claim
to be a divine messenger. So far therefore is it from being the fact that
miracles are so generally alleged by religions in vindication of their
claim to be revelations, that Judaism and Christianity are absolutely
unique in this respect. The idea of working a miracle in attestation of a
divine commission is so far from being a “hackneyed” one, that it has the
strongest claims to originality.

2. It is urged by the same writer that “every marvel and every narrative
of supernatural interference seemed a matter of course to the
superstitious credulity of the age. However much miracles are the
exception to the order of nature, they have always been the rule in the
history of ignorance. In fact the excess of belief in them throughout many
centuries of darkness, is almost fatal to their claims to credence now.
They have been limited to periods of ignorance and superstition, and are
unknown to ages of enlightenment. The Christian miracles are rendered
almost as suspicious from their place in a long series of similar
occurrences, as they are by their being exceptions to the sequence of
natural phenomena. It would be extraordinary if cycles of miracles
occurring before and since those of the Gospels, and in connection with
every religion, could be repudiated as fables, and these alone maintained
as genuine.”

The principles which I have laid down in a former chapter fully meet the
chief points raised in these objections. A few additional observations on
them, therefore, are all that will be necessary.

First: the assertion that every marvel or narrative of supernatural
interference seemed a matter of course to the superstitious credulity of
the age, is inaccurate. If they had been of habitual or constant
occurrence, they would have ceased to be marvels at all. In such a case
the trade of the impostor would have gone, for it would not have paid him.
The entire plausibility of such reasonings arises from confounding under a
common name phenomena wholly different in character. I ask emphatically,
did the current supernaturalism of any age or nation accept as matters of
course such events as the resurrection of Christ, or the cure of a blind
man, or a man full of leprosy, by a word or a touch? Have not heathen
writers pronounced actual resurrections from the dead to be
impossibilities? Were such occurrences ever believed to be within the
power of magic to effect? Belief in the possibility of such occurrences
became current only under the influence of Christianity.

2. It is not correct to assert that the belief in miracles has been
confined to ages of ignorance. Will it be affirmed that the most
flourishing period of Grecian literature was an age of ignorance? Yet a
belief in a current supernaturalism prevailed in it. Was the Augustan age
an age of ignorance? Both ages were ignorant of physical science: but
during few periods has the human intellect been equally active. Each age
contained men endowed with common sense sufficient to make them adequate
judges whether the supernatural occurrences above referred to were
possible or not.

3. It is inaccurate to affirm that the Christian miracles are interposed
between two similar series of supernatural occurrences. There is only one
point in common between them; the claim to be supernatural. As I have
proved, in every other respect they are strongly contrasted. It is,
therefore, by no means extraordinary that a series of supernatural
occurrences, which have the highest moral impress, and possess other
distinguishing characteristics, should be true; and that the others, one
of which took place before and the other after that in question, and which
are stamped with the very opposite characteristics, should be false.

The same author adduces the following objections, as lying at the root of
miraculous testimony to a revelation: “Surely supernatural evidence of so
common and prodigal a nature betrays great want of force and divine
originality. How could that be considered as special evidence for a new
revelation, which was already so well known to all the world, and which
was scattered broadcast over so many centuries, as well as successfully
simulated by Satan.” Again: “Instead of a few evidential miracles taking
place at one epoch of history, and filling the world with surprise at such
novel and exceptional phenomena, we find miracles represented as taking
place in all ages and in all countries. The Gospel miracles are set in the
midst of a series of similar wonders which commenced many centuries before
the dawn of Christianity, and continued without interruption fifteen
centuries after it. No divine originality characterized the evidence
selected to accredit the divine revelation.” (P. 192.)

I reply, First: It behoves those who except against the plan of attesting
a divine revelation by miracles, to inform us in what other way it is
possible that the truth of a divine commission can be attested. It is
doubtless possible for God to make a special revelation of His will to
each individual man; yet even this would involve supernatural agency of
some kind; and it is very questionable whether to do so would be
consistent with the plan of God’s moral government which comes under our
actual observation. But the Christian revelation is founded on the idea of
making a divine manifestation additional to, and of a different order
from, that which is made by the created universe; and not simply of
imparting so much additional information to each individual. This
manifestation professes to be made by the Incarnation. How, I ask, was
such a manifestation to be made except by a supernatural action of some
kind? It is clear, therefore, that every manifestation of God differing
from that made by the ordinary forces of nature, or by the moral nature of
man, must be supernatural. There can be no doubt as to the means which
must be employed. The only question which can be raised is one which I
have considered elsewhere, namely: whether it is the purpose of God to
make such a manifestation of Himself.

It will be objected that such a manifestation might have been made self‐
evident to the moral nature of man, and consequently it would have
required no additional attestation. To this I reply that, on the
supposition that it is God’s purpose to make such an additional
manifestation of Himself, He must be allowed to be the only adequate judge
of the right mode of accomplishing it.

But even if a revelation involved no such manifestation of God, but only a
communication of truth to man, it is incumbent on those who object to its
attestation by miracles, to find some other method by which the reality of
a divine commission could be attested, and to show that this mode would be
preferable to an attestation by miracles.

But further: if we regard a miracle as a supernatural occurrence wrought
in attestation of a divine commission, which is the unquestionable aspect
of a considerable number of those recorded in the New Testament, the fact
that there was a wide‐spread belief in the existence of supernatural
events is far from interfering with its efficacy. What did the current
beliefs imply? That there existed beings, other than the blind forces of
nature, who interfered in human affairs; and that they were in some way or
other capable of communicating with man. What is the very conception
implied by a revelation? That a God exists, who is the moral Governor of
the universe, who cares for man, and is capable of holding communications
with him. Both conceptions rest on a common ground—the existence of
supernatural beings capable of manifesting themselves by outward
indications. Why then should not the moral Governor of the universe, if it
was His purpose to make a revelation, employ media, which were all but
universally recognized? No inconsiderable number of the objections of
unbelievers rest on the assumption, that if there be a God, it is
derogatory to His character to suppose that He is capable of condescending
to the weaknesses and imperfections of man. A God who neither will nor can
do so may be a very grand conception; but one who is very ill adapted to
the wants of human nature, and who is incapable of exciting human
sympathies. The only thing that would be necessary, on the supposition
that it was His purpose to make such a revelation, would be that His mode
of manifesting His presence should be one clearly distinguishable from the
events of current supernaturalism. What was requisite would have been to
afford evidence that the manifestation in question was due to no other
being than Himself; that is to say, that the miracles should bear the
unquestionable impress of His own perfections. The subject of alleged
demoniacal miracles I have considered elsewhere. The simple question
before us is—Are the supernatural events recorded in the Gospels clearly
distinguishable in their general character from the supernaturalism which
was current previous to the Advent? I have already shown that it contains
no doubtful indications as to who the agent must have been, if we suppose
the facts to have been actual occurrences.

But further: if the objection has any validity, it presupposes that God
ought not to make a revelation in ages of superstition and ignorance; but
must wait until knowledge has cleared away the mists of ignorance and
error, and supplied us with the means of infallibly discriminating between
true miracles and false ones; or, in other words, we must wait for the
much‐talked‐of jury of scientific men, who can submit His alleged miracles
to the whole range of scientific tests. Happily, however, God has gifted a
considerable number of men with common sense, which is quite adequate to
determine whether a certain class of events wrought under certain
circumstances are miraculous operations, or mere natural occurrences, or
due to imposture. If this be so, what is there, I ask, unworthy of God, in
making a revelation at such times as man stands in special need of one?

It is further objected that a miraculous attestation to a divine
commission shows a want of force and divine originality. I ask, how? The
fact is that with the exception of Judaism, no ancient religion professed
to be so attested; and the Jew would naturally expect that any fresh
revelation would be attested in a manner similar to that which he believed
in as divine.

The objection that because the belief in supernaturalism was so general,
therefore miracles must be worthless as evidence, I have already shown to
be fallacious.

But it is also objected: “Instead of a few evidential miracles taking
place at one particular period of history and filling the world with
surprise at such novel and exceptional phenomena, we find them represented
as taking place in all ages and in all countries.”

This is the old objection of the Jews who demanded of our Lord a sign from
Heaven. Both demand a particular class and order of miracle, viz.:
something stupendous, or terrific. The value of each objection lies in
conceiving of a miracle as a mere objective fact in external nature,
stript of all its moral accompaniments. In one word, it contemplates the
miracle in its most vulgar aspect, as a bare act of power, a portent, a
prodigy. A great light everywhere appearing in the heavens might have
appeared to vulgar minds a greater miracle, and have attracted more
attention than the cure of a man full of leprosy by the utterance of a
word. But it would not have presented stronger evidences of having been
wrought by the power of God.

But with respect to the general question, I ask, Is not the resurrection
of Jesus Christ in every respect an exceptional event? Where are
resurrections to be found in the history of current supernaturalism? Who
ever pretended, before or since, to have a divine commission which was
attested by his own resurrection from the dead? This miracle is at any
rate absolutely unique; and it must never be forgotten that it is the only
one recorded in the New Testament on the truth of which its writers stake
the claim of Christianity to be regarded as a divine revelation. Although
they refer to other miracles, wonders and signs which God wrought by Him,
yet whenever they adduce the full and conclusive evidence of His divine
mission, they always appeal to the fact that God had raised Him from the
dead.

But a further objection is urged as invalidating this kind of testimony:
“At the very time when the knowledge of the laws of nature began to render
men capable of judging of the reality of miracles, these wonders entirely
ceased. This extraordinary cessation of miracles at a time when their
evidence ought to have acquired value from an appeal to persons capable of
appreciating them, is perfectly unintelligible, if they are viewed as the
supernatural credentials of a divine revelation.”

This passage contains several fallacies. One, to which I have repeatedly
drawn attention, runs through it, viz., the classing together every kind
of alleged supernatural occurrence, from the miracles of Jesus to the
fantastic performances of the magician, as though they all stood on the
same level. I need not further allude to the fallacy of such reasoning.

2. It is affirmed that miracles entirely ceased when the knowledge of the
laws of nature began to render men capable of judging of their reality. I
conclude that by the word “miracles” in this passage, the author means
ecclesiastical miracles, viz., those which have been alleged to be wrought
in attestation of the established system of belief. If it is meant to be
asserted that all belief in a current supernaturalism has now ceased, the
affirmation is inaccurate, as the wide‐spread belief in spiritualism
abundantly testifies.

But if the assertion is intended to be confined to ecclesiastical
miracles, it involves an inaccuracy as to a matter of history. They had
become thoroughly discredited long before the birth of modern physical
science. The cure of blind and leprous persons by a touch, or the feeding
of five thousand persons on seven loaves and a few fishes, require nothing
else than sound common sense for the appreciation of their supernatural
character, or the testing of their reality. The assertion, therefore, that
miracles ceased precisely at the time when their evidence would have been
most valuable, by their being able to be tested by those persons best
capable of appreciating them, is entirely inaccurate.

I fully admit that a belief in a current supernaturalism, as for instance
in the absurdities of witchcraft, survived the Reformation. What the
Reformation destroyed was a belief in a divine order of miracles wrought
in support of an ecclesiastical system. The belief in this current
supernaturalism has been gradually diminishing ever since, under the
combined influence of the increase of the knowledge of physical science,
and common sense. The objection raised is simply irrelevant to the point
at issue.

But there is another subject which demands consideration. Hitherto we have
been dealing with the evidential character of miracles. But although all
miracles have an evidential value, if they can be adequately attested, it
by no means follows that every miracle recorded in the New Testament was
intended to subserve this purpose alone. It was necessary not only that a
revelation should be communicated, and receive an adequate attestation,
but that it should be propagated among mankind. To render this possible,
it was necessary that its messengers should be armed with some means of
insuring that their message should be heard with attention. There was also
another object to be effected; namely, the establishment in the world of
that great institution, the Christian Church, which was intended so
largely to influence its destinies.

It will be quite clear to any person who carefully considers the various
supernatural occurrences recorded in the New Testament that they are not
all of equal evidential value. The highest class of them are directly
affirmed to have been performed for the purpose of attesting the divine
mission of Jesus Christ, and as a portion of His supernatural
manifestation. To this class belong the miracles wrought by Himself, and
several of those performed by the Apostles. But there is another class
referred to in the Acts of the Apostles, of which the primary object seems
to have been to awaken attention to the Apostolic message, though even
these were not destitute of evidential value. There is also another order
of manifestations frequently referred to in the Epistles, viz., the
supernatural gifts of the Spirit, one of the declared purposes of which
was to lay deep the foundations of the Christian Church. As divine
interpositions, they were all to a certain extent evidential; but it will
be important to observe that there is an order of supernatural
manifestations mentioned in the New Testament, whose apparent primary
intention was to subserve a different purpose.

Let it be observed therefore, that at the introduction of Christianity,
two distinct purposes had to be effected: first, to attest the truth of
the revelation; secondly, to establish the Church.

I will briefly draw attention to this latter portion of the subject, as
far as it affects certain portions of the supernatural action affirmed in
the New Testament. I allude to a certain class of miracles, such as the
cure of the cripple at Lystra, those wrought by the passing of Peter’s
shadow, and by garments brought from Paul’s person, and some others; also
to the entire class of the supernatural gifts mentioned in the Acts of the
Apostles, and so frequently referred to in the Epistles.

One of the greatest difficulties which beset the missionary is to obtain a
hearing in the midst of the hostile elements by which he is surrounded.
Yet to obtain this is the necessary condition of carrying on his work. In
this respect, the modern missionary possesses great advantages compared
with the primitive missionary of Christianity. He belongs to a superior
civilization, and is therefore able to bring to bear the whole force of a
higher on a lower one. This was exactly reversed in the case of the
primitive missionaries. Instead of being able to bring to bear the
prestige of a high civilization on those among whom they laboured, they
belonged to a despised race; or if the missionary himself was a member of
the race whom he addressed, he belonged to the lower sections of society.
How was this enormous deficiency to be supplied? How was a man thus
despised to obtain a hearing for the message with which he was charged?
The New Testament affirms that the deficiency was supplied by imparting to
the early Church a certain number of supernatural endowments, which, when
once communicated, acted like our ordinary faculties; also that a
supernatural gift of curing certain diseases was imparted to particular
individuals, a gift which was exactly suited to obtain an attentive
hearing for their message.

Among the supernatural gifts which St. Paul affirms to have been
communicated to the Church, there were two of which he asserts that the
operation was distinct, but which are merged in the modern idea of
miracles. These he designated by the expressions ἐνεργήματα δυναμέων, or
the inworking of powers; and χαρίσματα ἰαμάτων, endowments of healing
powers. The distinction in function between these powers is affirmed by
him no less than three times; what it consisted in, we are only able to
judge from the terms themselves, and the nature of the case. There is
every probability that the distinction points to a higher and a lower
exercise of supernatural power; the one being the evidential miracle
properly so called, and the other a supernatural knowledge of how to
effect cures—a gift which would be exactly suited to enable the missionary
to obtain that attentive hearing of his message which he so urgently
required. The Epistle of St. James furnishes us with a general idea of the
nature of the gift, when he directs, that in case a person was sick, the
elders of the Church were to be sent for, who were to pray over the sick
man, and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord; “And the prayer of
faith,” says he, “shall save the sick; and the Lord shall raise him up.”
(James v. 15.) The whole description points to a cure which, although in a
measure supernatural, was not instantaneous; the latter point being one
which would be required to make a miracle in the proper sense of the word
evidential. A power of effecting cures, however, whether by a knowledge of
natural means supernaturally acquired, or by supernatural agency, would be
one which would obtain for the despised Jewish missionary a hearing in
Gentile cities, which otherwise he would be unable to obtain.

To such a class of supernatural operations would belong such cures as
those effected by the conveyance of handkerchiefs and aprons from St.
Paul’s body to the sick. These are only asserted to have taken place on
one occasion, at Ephesus, a city greatly addicted to the arts of magic.
They were adapted to the circumstances of the place, where the Apostle had
to encounter a particular form of supernaturalism; and they would have
been exactly suited to meet the difficulty in question. The historian
tells us that the success was great, for many of those who had used
magical arts came forward and confessed their deeds, collected together
their magical books, which were worth a considerable sum of money, and
publicly burned them. The same observations apply to Peter’s shadow.
Although the historian does not tell us that cures were wrought by it, yet
the narrative presupposes that a large outburst of supernatural power took
place in connection with Peter’s person. Although the cure of the cripple
at Lystra belongs to a class of miracles which is strictly evidential, yet
the immediate occasion of its performance seems to have been with the view
of arousing the attention of an ignorant heathen population.

But not only had a revelation to be communicated and attested, not only
had converts to be made and instructed, but it was also necessary that the
foundations of the Church, the visible kingdom of Christ, should be firmly
laid, and that it should be established among the visible institutions of
the earth. Sufficient attention has not been paid to this portion of the
subject in considering the question of supernatural intervention. The
establishment of the Church as a visible institution, which was intended
gradually to leaven mankind with the great principles of His revelation,
is again and again affirmed by Jesus Christ to have been one of the great
purposes of His coming. A description of its character and functions forms
the subject of no inconsiderable number of His parables, and it is the
great end and purpose for which He gave the great final Apostolic
commission to go and gather it together out of all the nations of the
earth.

The Church of Christ had therefore to be formed into a community out of
the most heterogeneous elements. It was destined not for a momentary
existence, but for a continuous growth, so as to leaven human nature with
its influences. The creation of such a society was a conception so bold
that it had never previously entered the head of either poet or
philosopher. Those with whom I am reasoning will not deny that the attempt
was a very arduous, and to all appearance a most chimerical one.

Yet it is the most certain of facts that the Church of Christ is now in
the nineteenth century of its existence. The boldness of the undertaking
will be more fully estimated when we reflect that the Church was intended
to be a society which, while existing in the world, should differ in its
essential character from all the other societies on the earth. Its action
was to be entirely spiritual and moral. Its founder intended it to be
invested with no coercive powers. The appeal was to be, not to force, but
to conscience.

Those who offered to enroll themselves as the subjects of Christ’s
spiritual kingdom had to be formed into a social organization. Unless this
could be effected, one of the great objects for which the revelation was
given must have proved a failure. The elements of which it had to be
composed were of the most unpromising description. The first converts
consisted of no small number of Jews and proselytes, who were extensively
leavened with the narrowest prejudices of Judaism. When the Gentiles began
to join the new community, its members were chiefly derived from the lower
ranks of society, including a considerable number of slaves. The infant
Church embraced a great diversity of opinions and characters. When
converts were made, the time for their instruction was short. Yet such an
institution had to contend with mighty civilization, the habits and
prejudices of existing society, the self‐interest of a corrupt religion,
and the opposition of a powerful government.

Such were some of the difficulties which had to be surmounted before this
new institution could be firmly planted among the existing societies of
the world, and expand itself with the life which was peculiarly its own.
If the primitive followers of Jesus were animated by the credulous
superstition which unbelievers delight in attributing to them, none should
be better qualified than they to form a judgment of the difficulties which
must have beset their path. Yet these have been surmounted. To this fact
the vigorous life of the Church during eighteen centuries testifies. It
has not only held its ground, but it has succeeded in leavening all
existing civilizations with its influences. How has this been
accomplished? The Apostolic Epistles return an answer. They affirm that
the early converts were endowed with a number of supernatural gifts,
exactly fitted to qualify them for the various functions which they were
called upon to discharge. I subjoin a list of them, as they are directly
affirmed by St. Paul to be then existing in the Corinthian Church. They
were nine in number, each of which is asserted by him to have had a
distinct and separate function and subject‐matter: the gifts of wisdom,
knowledge, faith, working of miracles, endowments of healing powers,
prophecy, discerning of spirits, tongues, and interpretation. It does not
appear whether this last is meant to be exhaustive of the supernatural
mental endowments which the members of the early churches supposed
themselves to possess, or whether they were varied for the purpose of
meeting particular exigences. Nor do I ask those with whom I am reasoning
to accept this statement as a true account of an objective fact; but only
that they were supposed to be so by the Apostle and those to whom he
wrote. It is plain, however, that these supernatural endowments, if real,
were precisely such as the Church was in urgent need of, as the
instrumentality for welding together the discordant elements of which it
was composed, and enabling it firmly to plant itself in the soil of human
nature.

These supernatural gifts of the Spirit, with two exceptions, produced no
results on external nature. They constituted enlargements of the powers of
the human mind. As such, they cannot with strict propriety be said to
belong to the class of evidential miracles, although like all other
supernatural operations of which God is the Author, they cannot fail to be
indirectly evidential. It is important to observe that they belong to a
separate class of supernatural phenomena, which were as necessary in
reference to the Christian revelation, contemplating as it did the
institution of a divine society, as the order of supernatural
manifestations which directly attested the divine mission of Jesus Christ
and His Apostles. If this was their end and purpose we can understand why
they were withdrawn at a very early period, before they could be submitted
to the tests of our modern _savants_. They were given for a special
purpose, and they were withdrawn when they had accomplished it. The
Apostle who affirms their existence asserts that they were not intended
permanently to continue in the Church.

There is one more allegation which is occasionally urged against the
miracles of the New Testament, and which I must briefly consider. It is
alleged that pious frauds have been very general in all ages of Christian
history; that many good men have not hesitated to participate in them; and
that literary forgeries were very abundant in the first ages of
Christianity, and were even common in the days of the Apostles. It is
insinuated that this state of mind throws great suspicion on the alleged
miracles of the apostolic age.

As the charge of pious fraud is not made against Jesus himself or his
immediate followers, it is difficult to meet so indefinite an objection.
It seems to be put in to add force to others, rather than for its
intrinsic value. Modern unbelievers express a nearly unanimous concurrence
in endeavouring to account for the miracles of the New Testament, by
assuming that the followers of Jesus were the victims of the most intense
enthusiasm, superstition, and credulity. It is difficult to comprehend, on
the assumption that the existence of the supernatural portions of the New
Testament is due to these causes, how direct fraud could have anything to
do with the concoction of these miraculous stories. Intense enthusiasm and
fanaticism, and deliberate fraud, are usually opposite poles of character;
and if we call in one to account for these miracles, we must exclude the
other from exerting an influence on their origination. To make the charge
of any avail against the narratives of the Gospel, it is necessary not to
prove that pious frauds were common in the second, third, or fourth
century, or even in the first, but to establish directly either that Jesus
professed to work miracles while He knew that they were not such, or that
His followers deliberately invented a number of miraculous stories and
attributed them to Him, well knowing that He had performed none. The
charge that the miracles of the New Testament originated in enthusiasm and
credulity is a definite one, and can be definitely met. So is the one that
they originated in deliberate fraud. So would be the charge that the
innocent followers of Jesus were imposed upon by fraudulent impostors. But
to combine the charge of intense enthusiasm and credulity with that of
conscious fraud, is a mode of reasoning which contains the grounds of its
own refutation.

It is no doubt a fact, that the practice of literary forgery was not
unknown to the early ages of Christianity. St. Paul seems to have thought
that there were in the world impostors daring enough to attempt to forge a
letter in his name, and to try to foist it on the churches which he had
planted, as a genuine production. But the existence of such impostors has
no bearing whatever on the question whether the miracles recorded in the
New Testament are facts or fiction. Did not St. Paul himself assert that
he had performed miracles? Was he an impostor? Did he not believe that
Jesus Christ in veritable reality rose from the dead? What have such
beliefs to do with the existence of a set of daring literary impostors?
Happily, however, the whole of this class of ancient writers were utter
bunglers in the art of fictitious composition. It is a universal
characteristic of them, that they were entirely unable to throw themselves
into the spirit of former times, or of the persons whose names they
assumed. In their references to history, geography, manners, customs, and
character, they lay themselves open at almost every point to certain
detection. There is good reason for believing that no forger or writer of
fiction in the ancient world has succeeded in his art. In investing
fiction with apparent probability, the modern world has completely
outstript the ancient. Still, however, even in the most perfect works,
when the fictions are extended over a wide sphere of action, no amount of
genius will protect a writer from leaving some weak point unguarded. It is
probably not too much to say that neither in ancient nor modern times, has
a fictitious work or a forgery been able to maintain its ground against
the apparatus which can be brought to bear on it by a sound and rational
criticism.

Most of the other objections which are adduced against the miracles of the
New Testament have been answered in principle under the foregoing heads. I
must now adduce some of the most important considerations which prove them
to have been historical facts.





CHAPTER XVII. THE HISTORICAL EVIDENCE ON WHICH THE GREAT FACTS OF
CHRISTIANITY REST—GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS.


It has been urged by opponents, that the defenders of historical
Christianity rest content with endeavouring to prove that miracles are
possible or probable; but that they neglect an all‐important part of their
duty, viz.: that of adducing historical proof that miracles have been
actually performed. If the fact is as here stated, there can be no doubt
that works which profess to discuss the subject of miracles, and omit to
give a clear statement of the chief points of the evidence which can be
adduced to prove that they have actually occurred, must be unsatisfactory.
To answer the objections which are urged to prove that miracles are
impossible, or which affirm on general principles that all evidence in
their favour is unworthy of credit, is an essential preliminary to the
consideration of the historical evidence which can be adduced to prove
their actual occurrence. But to afford proof, that as facts they rest upon
an adequate attestation, is the essential duty of every one who asserts
their reality. To this portion of the work I will now proceed to address
myself.

What then is the position occupied by the Christian advocate? Is it
requisite in order to establish the truth of Christianity, that he should
give an historical proof of everyone of the miracles recorded in the New
Testament? I answer this question emphatically in the negative, and for
the following reason. The New Testament itself, while it affirm that many
miracles have been performed, rests the truth of Christianity on one
miracle alone, the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. This is the
great event which, according to the Acts of the Apostles, the early
missionaries urged as the distinctive proof of their Master’s divine
mission. The views expressed in the Apostolic Epistles are precisely
similar. In them, the entire evidence of the truth of our Lord’s divine
mission is made to centre in the fact of His resurrection. Not only is the
great fact referred to either directly or indirectly in almost every page,
but St. Paul has distinctly rested the truth of Christianity on the
reality of its occurrence. Such a statement is made respecting no other
miraculous event recorded in the New Testament. It is the miracle of
miracles, unique and alone, by which the seal of God was affixed to the
divine mission of Jesus Christ. It formed the _locus standi_ of the
Church, and the sole ground of its existence. If it was not an objective
fact, those who testified to its occurrence must have been false
witnesses, and the whole of Christianity either a delusion or an
imposture.

It follows, therefore, that this great miracle forms the very key of the
Christian position. Everything else is an outwork, an important one it may
be, but yet an outwork. If this position can be successfully assailed, the
entire fortress of Christianity must surrender at discretion. If, on the
other hand, the most determined unbeliever could be convinced that there
is good historical evidence that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, he would
find no difficulty in accepting the Gospels as historical documents, and
the whole _à priori_ objection against them would disappear.

Again: If the Resurrection of Christ is a fact, Christianity must be a
divine revelation. The perfect historical accuracy of the Gospels in
minute details may be still open to question; deep thought and careful
investigation may be necessary for ascertaining the precise amount of
truth communicated by that revelation; past ages may have erred in its
interpretation, or in their deductions from it; many questions as to the
relation in which revelation stands to science or history may be open
ones—all this is both conceivable and possible—but still, if Jesus Christ
rose from the dead, his entire manifestation, work, and teaching, must be
a communication from God to man.

This then is my position. The real question stands within very narrow
limits. The miracle that requires strong historical proof is the
Resurrection. The other supernatural occurrences recorded in the Gospels
are important portions of the revelation made by Christ. They were
important evidences to those who witnessed them. But to us in these latter
times the one great question is: Is the Resurrection capable of being
established as an actual occurrence? If it is, it will carry with it all
the others. If it is not, the proof of the others will fall along with it.

Let us examine the historical conditions of the case. Christianity differs
from all other religions in professing not to consist of a mass of
abstract dogmatic statements, but to be founded on, and largely to consist
of, a number of historical facts. There are unquestionably a considerable
number of dogmatic statements in the pages of the New Testament; but they
profess to grow out of the facts and to be explanations of them. The facts
form, so to say, the essence of the religion. The Christianity of the New
Testament is a growth which encircles itself around the person of its
founder in a manner in which no other system of thought or religion, which
has existed among men, has ever done. If we take the person of Jesus
Christ out of the New Testament, the whole system of its teaching crumbles
into nothingness. If we remove the person of its founder from every other
system of human thought—its great religions form no exception—the system
remains intact. This is a very striking peculiarity in Christianity. In
this respect it stands absolutely unique.

But as Christianity is founded on an historical person, who lived in a
particular age, so He is the founder of a great historical institution,
the Christian Church. This institution differs from every other society
which has ever existed, in that both its origination and its continued
existence are inextricably bound up with the person of its founder. Other
societies could exist even if it could be proved that their reputed
founders were creations of the imagination; but this would be fatal to the
life of the Church of Christ. If it could be proved that Jesus Christ was
a myth, or nothing but a learned Rabbi, the Christian Church, mighty
society as it is, would certainly collapse. The Christian Church without
Christ would be far more out of place than the play of Hamlet with the
part of Hamlet omitted. In this respect it is a institution unique among
all those which the world has ever seen, whether political or religious.

This great society, which now comprehends a vast majority of the
intelligence of mankind, and all the progressive nations of the world, had
a definite beginning in historical times. It differs wholly from a
philosophic sect, whose bond of union consists in the acceptance of a body
of dogmatic teaching. It is and ever has been an organized society with
specific purposes and aims, and one which has ever meditated schemes of
conquest. It differs widely from all political institutions, and yet ever
since its birth it has taken a place beside them.

The origin of this society is not lost, like that of many others, in the
mists of the hoary past. History enables us to assign a definite time when
this society was certainly not in existence. It no less definitely marks
out a period when it not only was in existence, but had entered on a
condition of active growth. Its origin did not take place in the cloud‐
land of the mythic or the semi‐mythic period of history, but in the reign
of Tiberius Cæsar, and in a country occupied by Roman garrisons, and
presided over by Roman governors.

It will be objected that our only accounts of the causes which led to the
organization of this society are writings composed by its own members. In
this there is nothing peculiar; for until societies have grown
sufficiently powerful to attract the attention of the world outside them,
there can be no other source of information. Still the fact can be
ascertained on the most unquestionable authority, that at a certain date
this society was not in existence, and that within a certain number of
years afterwards, it was not only in existence, but rapidly increasing;
and that it originated in Jesus Christ, who was put to death by the Roman
government.

This society, therefore, came into existence at a definite period of time.
Its early writers give us an account of how it originated. They affirm
that its founder was Jesus Christ; and that, having been interrupted by
His death, it was called into a new existence by His resurrection. To this
great event they most positively affirm that the origin of the Church, as
an institution, was due. To the belief in it as a fact, it has certainly
owed its gradual enlargement, until it has attained its present dimensions
after more than eighteen centuries of existence. To this belief is due the
great moral power which it has exercised on mankind; and if its members
could be persuaded that the belief in the Resurrection of its founder was
a mere delusion, great as this society is, it would certainly perish.

There are five facts connected with the origin of this society, which no
one who believes in the possibility of historic truth will dispute.

First: That at the year A.D. 25, this society had no existence.

Secondly: That in A.D. 40, it was in a state of vigorous growth.

Thirdly: That it was founded by Jesus Christ.

Fourthly: That His crucifixion by the Roman government caused its
temporary collapse.

Fifthly: That an event of some kind, which took place shortly after His
death, imparted to it a new vitality, which it has never lost to the
present hour, and which has caused it to exert a mightier influence on
mankind than any other community, whether political or religious, that has
ever existed.

The problem, therefore, which history has to solve, is to account for the
renewed life, the marvellous progress, the intense vitality of this
society, and the mighty influence which it has exerted on the destinies of
mankind; originating as it did in the smallest possible beginnings, and in
a manner differing from all other existing institutions.

The Christian Church has propounded, from the first commencement of its
renewed life, its own solution of this problem. It is: that its founder,
after having been crucified, rose again from the dead. This account has
this clear and obvious advantage, that if it be true, it sufficiently
accounts for all the phenomena whose existence we have to solve. His
resurrection was a power adequate to revive the society after its
temporary collapse, to impart to it its mighty moral and spiritual energy,
and to impress on the original work and teaching of Jesus, a new and
peculiar aspect. In short, assuming the Resurrection to have been a fact,
it assigns a cause adequate to account for all the phenomena which have
been presented by the Church. Here then we have firm ground on which to
take our stand; viz., the belief of this society as to its origin, capable
of being traced historically to the first hour of its renewed life, and
which also, if true, affords a rational account of it.

But further; besides this account which the Church has given of its own
origin, there is no rival account of it in existence. As far as historical
documents are concerned, there is no other. All others are founded on
conjecture.

Our opponents, however, affirm that the alleged fact which the Church
asserts to have been the cause of its existence is incredible, because all
miracles are impossible. Then, leaving _à priori_ grounds, they also
affirm that the evidence to prove the Resurrection to have been an
historical fact is insufficient for the purpose.

The Church, however, is clearly in possession of a vantage‐ground, from
which it is not easy to dislodge her. The cause which she alleges is
adequate to account for all the phenomena.

The _onus probandi_ therefore clearly rests on the opponents of
Christianity. If they deny the truth of the fact which the Church has ever
handed down as the true account of her origin, they are bound not only to
show that it is devoid of historical attestation, but to propound a theory
which will adequately account for all the facts to which history
testifies. It is clear that nothing short of this is required of them as
philosophical historians. Certain facts are plain and undeniable. A
society, of a very special character, sprang into existence at a definite
point of history, and has exerted a mightier influence than any other on
the destinies of man. If therefore they reject the account which the
Church herself gives, they are bound to supply a rational account of how
this great society came into being; how the phenomena which constitute its
history have been brought about; and what it was that imparted to it its
vitality and power. We are in the presence of the greatest institution
with which history is acquainted, founded as it is on the greatest ideal
conception (if it is not historical) which the human mind has ever
succeeded in inventing. Both these came into existence, not in pre‐
historic times, but in the midst of a period of contemporaneous history.
Respecting the times, the modes of thought, and the general character of
the period, we have extensive historical data. The religious, moral, and
philosophical opinions, and the general line of thought, are well known.
The various forces which were then in activity we are able to appreciate.
With all these data before him, it is incumbent on the philosophical
historian to give us an account of the moral and religious forces in
activity at this period, which were capable of creating the Christian
Church, and generating its conception of the ideal Christ. If it is
alleged that after the utmost investigation it is impossible to account
for their origin by the action of any known moral or spiritual forces
acting on the human mind, this would be at once to confess that the origin
of Christianity and the Church is entirely abnormal, or in other words,
that it is a moral and spiritual miracle.

To do unbelievers justice, they have not been slow to recognize the fact
that if they reject the account which the Church has given of its origin,
they are bound to give us a rational one of how Christianity came into
existence. Accordingly, theory after theory has been propounded on this
subject. No intellectual exertion has been spared to point out how
Christianity and the Church have succeeded in getting into existence, and
in effecting their religious and moral conquests, by forces purely human,
and without the aid of any supernatural intervention.

One thing respecting these theories is worthy of particular attention. No
unbeliever has as yet been able to suggest one which has succeeded in
commanding, I will not say the universal, but even the general assent of
the unbelieving world. Theory after theory has been propounded and
abandoned. It is therefore clear that the difficulty of accounting for the
origin of Christianity and the Church through the action of the ordinary
forces that operate on the human mind, is extreme. There is no analogous
case in the whole history of man. Let me briefly enumerate the chief
principles which have been invoked to aid in the solution of this problem.

First, it has been attempted to get rid of the supernatural elements
contained in the Gospels by representing them as distorted representations
of real facts. This has been justly abandoned as childish. Then came the
mythic and legendary theories. These, having been found inadequate, have
been supplemented by various theories of development of ideas; and the
supposition of a violent party spirit existing in the Church, which under
the influence of a spirit of accommodation produced various compromises; a
mass of varied and often contending opinions seething in the bosom of a
society continually threatened with disruption, until they somehow
succeeded in welding themselves together; enthusiasm, fanaticism,
boundless credulity, aided by a prodigious power of mythic and legendary
invention, and whenever occasion so required, the presence of a moral
atmosphere, which on great emergencies did not shrink from deliberate
imposture. All these, in ever varying degrees and proportions, have been
pressed into the service of creating the Church, the ideal Christ, and the
Christianity of the New Testament. It is impossible in a work like the
present to examine these various theories, and show their inadequacy as
philosophical explanations of the fact. This I have already done in a
former work,(5) to which I must refer the reader for their refutation. A
few observations only will be necessary in this place.

First: The positions taken by unbelievers are theories, which rest on the
smallest basis of historical evidence. I readily admit that where there is
a known fact, but the recollection of the events which would give an
account of its origin has perished, if a theory can be propounded which
fully accounts for the fact, then it has a right to take its place as an
historical event which rests on evidence of the highest probability. An
example derived from the mode in which the study of comparative philology
discloses the history of the past will explain my meaning. We have before
us the facts of language. The history of those who formerly used it has
perished; the accounts of their migrations have nowhere been preserved.
But certain facts of comparative philology justify the assumption that
certain primitive races of men must have migrated in particular
directions. These assumed migrations are really a theory, but one which is
exactly adequate to account for the facts which language unquestionably
presents. Thus the facts of the Indo‐Germanic languages justify the
assumption that in the pre‐historic ages, migrations westward must have
taken place, of which history contains no record. Still the theory affords
so perfect an explanation of the facts, that the occurrence of the
migrations is as certain as if they had been recorded by contemporaneous
writers. On similar grounds it has been inferred with a degree of
probability so high as to be equal to certainty, that a language earlier
than the Sanskrit, and from which both it and the Indo‐Germanic family of
languages have been derived, was spoken by a previous race. Investigations
of this kind are largely adding to our historical knowledge.

Let us observe the basis on which such arguments rest. In all these cases
we have before us not mere conjectures, but a distinct and positive fact,
or set of facts. The connecting links are missing. By the aid of
conjecture we propound a theory; or in other words, we suppose a set of
events to have occurred, which, if they really happened, would be adequate
to account for the facts in question. When they thus account for them, and
for them alone, and no other conjectural occurrence will do so, the
assumed fact is fully entitled to take its place in history as an event
which has actually happened. The reason of this is, that it can stand the
test of historical verification.

A problem similar to that above referred to is the one which those who
deny the historical truth of the Gospels are called upon to solve. We are
in the presence of certain unquestionable historical facts, viz., the five
above referred to, and many others. The denial of the truth of the
Christian account leaves them without the connecting link which once
united them. What was that link? It can only be supplied by conjecture.
But to enable such a conjectural fact or facts to take rank as historical
events, they must be adequate to account for the facts, and be true to
human nature, and to the circumstances of the case; in other words, they
must be capable of enduring a rigid historical verification. Theories
which cannot endure this are no better than ropes of sand. This is the
character of the theories which have been propounded to account for the
Christianity of the New Testament.

Let me illustrate this by one of the favourite theories used by
unbelievers for this purpose. We are told that a number of extremely
hostile factions divided the primitive Church. Of these the followers of
James, Peter, and Paul may be taken as fairly representative. These were
in a state of great hostility to each other, and went on gradually
elaborating a Christianity that was in conformity with their own views and
tastes. After a while it occurred to these hostile parties that it would
be advantageous to compromise their differences. An influential person,
such as we may suppose the author of the Acts of the Apostles to have
been, composed a history, for the purpose of making matters smooth, and to
afford a common ground of union among the contending factions. This
process was repeated as often as was necessary; and in good time, by the
aid of myth and legend, and the whole of the needful apparatus, appeared
the Christianity of the New Testament, and the Church was consolidated out
of these varied elements.

Such theories grievously offend against the logic of history, and are in
direct variance with the facts of human life. We are here in the midst of
a whole mass of conjectural facts, each of which is imagined to account
for the existence of the other; and the whole of them taken together fail
to give an adequate solution of the phenomena before us. They are both
untrue to human nature and unable to account for either the facts of
Christianity or the existence of the Church. I must content myself with
selecting one of them for illustration. We are asked to believe that the
Church was divided into a number of parties, the opposition between whom
was violent; and that these effected a number of compromises, out of which
was ultimately evolved a common Christianity. This result is in direct
contradiction to the testimony of the religious history of man. Religious
parties do not effect compromises, but go on contending and widening their
differences, until their enthusiasm wears out and they die of inanition.
To this the history of all sects bears ample testimony, and the greater
the enthusiasm and not unfrequently the lesser the grounds of difference,
the greater the animosity. Compromises between hostile sects, in the rare
cases in which they have taken place, have been brought about by means of
external coercion. The religious history of mankind presents no example of
furious religious parties, while animated by a living enthusiasm,
voluntarily coalescing on the general principle of compromise. Witness the
unsuccessful attempts at compromise between the Eastern and Western
Churches, even when it was urged by the strongest external pressure.
Witness the sects which grew out of the Reformation. Compromises have
frequently originated among politicians, but these have in vain tried
their healing influences among contending sects. Occasionally they have
been brought about by the aid of pressure exerted by the temporal power,
as in the Church of England. Nothing more strongly illustrates the
difficulty with which compromise between religious parties can be effected
than the failure of the attempts to reconcile the Church of England and
the Methodists. The compromiser who will effect this union exists only in
the hopes of the future. But we need not confine ourselves to the
manifestations of sectarian spirit in connection with Christianity. The
Mahometan Church is also divided by sectarian differences. Is there any
tendency to produce a common Mahometanism, erected on the basis of
compromise? Do Buddhism and Brahminism show any disposition to compromise
their differences by fusing them into a common Pantheism which shall suit
both parties? The idea of producing a Christianity by a succession of
happy compromises entered into by violently hostile parties in the early
Church, is a dream which, however plausible it may have seemed in the
closet, is rudely dissipated the moment we come in contact with the stern
realities of life.

But further: the wide separation of the early Churches from each other;
and, according to the opinions of those against whom I am reasoning, their
want of a governing power acknowledged by all, must have rendered
agreement on the basis of mutual compromise impossible. Compromises are
the results of considerations of policy, and are unheard of among
fanatics, such as my opponents assert the early followers of Jesus to have
been. But what further renders this theory untenable is, that it is
compelled to imagine a number of developments accompanied by corresponding
compromises between hostile parties, before we can succeed in evolving the
Christianity of the New Testament. Not only does it contradict the history
of man; not only is it an assumption made to form the connecting link
between other established facts, but it is itself founded on other
assumptions. Among these are the assertions made as to the evidence of the
party spirit existing in the Church, and the opposition between its
leaders. Party spirit we know to have existed, but not with the violence
which this theory is compelled to postulate. The statement also that the
doctrinal opposition between these parties was of so declared a type is
not founded on the evidence that we possess, but on a highly exaggerated
view of it, distorted for the purpose of adding strength to the theory;
or, in other words, it is founded on a set of unwarranted assumptions. The
passages in the New Testament alleged to prove the declared opposition
between the leaders of the Church, which this theory is compelled to pre‐
suppose, can only be made to do so by taking it for granted that they do.
For example, the assertion that the person denounced in the Epistles to
the Seven Churches in the book of Revelation, is St. Paul, is a simply
gratuitous one, the only evidence for which is the will and pleasure of
those who make it. The theory, therefore, not only contradicts the history
of man, but is based upon a number of alleged facts which are either
absolute assumptions or exaggerations, and fail to give any account of the
origin of Christianity which will stand the test of the scrutiny of a
sound philosophy.

The mythic and legendary theories are equally unable to account for the
facts as they stand in the New Testament. I cannot here attempt to follow
them in their innumerable windings. Taken by themselves they are not now
accepted as adequate accounts of them, but other theories are called in to
aid them. Still, whatever assistance these are supposed to impart, myth
and legend must always hold a prominent place in the systems of those who
endeavour to account for the origin of the Gospels on purely human
principles. As they contain a large supernatural element, it is certain
that if this is not historical, it must have originated in some species of
fiction, _i.e._ either in the mythic and legendary spirit, or in pure
invention. Hence the use of myths and legends must always be freely
invoked by those who, while they deny the historical character of the
Gospels, do not go to the length of accusing the original followers of
Jesus of deliberate invention.

I must here draw attention to one particular portion of the evidence, the
full significance of which I have described elsewhere. Whatever opinions
may be formed as to the unhistorical character of the Gospels, there is
one fact respecting them as to which believers and unbelievers must alike
agree, namely that they contain a delineation of the most perfect
conception ever formed by the mind of man, the character of Jesus Christ.
There it is, beyond the power of contradiction; the overwhelming majority
of men possessed of the most powerful minds have recognized it as the
greatest of ideals, as well as the millions of ordinary men to whom it has
been the object of supreme admiration and attraction. The following
questions respecting it therefore urgently demand an answer.

If the Gospels are a mere collection of mythic and legendary stories,
generated and put together in the manner affirmed by those who deny their
historical character, how got this great character there? If the fables of
which they are composed are the inventions of many minds, whence its
unity? If their inventors were credulous enthusiasts and fanatics, whence
its perfection? If they were implicated in all the superstitions of the
age, whence its moral elevation? Of what order of thought then existing is
it the embodiment? How could the credulity which was necessary for the
acceptance of such fictions, or how could the spirit which invented them,
have conceived these moral elements? There the character is—let us be
distinctly informed how it was put together; how much of it is fact, and
how much fiction; how the fictions were welded together with the facts so
as to compose the whole; and what class or order of minds in the early
Church was equal to its elaboration. This delineation must have been made
at an early period, and could not have been a late invention; for it is
substantially the same as that contained in those Epistles of St. Paul,
which are acknowledged to have been written within thirty years of the
date of the Crucifixion. A distinct answer to these questions is demanded
of those who affirm that the Gospels have no value as histories. It is
impossible to deny that they have a most important bearing on the present
question. Why do not unbelievers set themselves to grapple with this
problem?

But the value to be assigned to the Gospels as histories must be a matter
for subsequent consideration. At present I need simply draw attention to
the fact that while the opponents of Christianity fully recognize the
necessity of propounding a rational theory of its origin, the more we
examine their various theories in detail, the more apparent becomes their
inadequacy to account for the phenomena. The fact, already alluded to,
that unbelievers cannot come to any agreement among themselves on this
subject, shows that they find the problem extremely difficult of solution.
The plausibility of their theories is due to the abstract and general form
in which they are presented. Various causes are held up without any
discrimination as to what each of them is capable of effecting; and the
wished‐for result is ascribed to their combined action. But when we
analyse the various forces at their command, ascertain the mode of their
action, the difficulties they would have to encounter before they could
effectuate their results, and examine whether they are true to the facts
of human nature as testified to by the long course of history, it is not
too much to affirm that all the investigations of unbelievers have
completely failed to give an account of the origin of Christianity which
can take the place of that handed down to us by the Church. Until this can
be given, notwithstanding all the expenditure of intellect on the
question, we are justified in affirming that the problem is insoluble,
although Christianity originated in a period unquestionably historical, in
the midst of the Roman Empire over which it rapidly spread, despite the
opposition of the government and the entire organization of society.

Before proceeding to the direct considerations by which the great fact of
Christianity is attested, I must take a general glance at the nature of
the materials which we have at our command, and at their historical value.

I shall take as my starting‐point the five facts already mentioned, the
historical certainty of which it is needless to prove. My starting‐point,
therefore, is the continuous existence of the Church, which came into
being at a definite period of time, to which it can be traced up in one
unbroken succession. This society has always affirmed that its corporate
existence, as well as the life of its individual members, is due to the
Resurrection of its founder. I shall also carefully examine and estimate
the contemporaneous evidence afforded by the Epistles of St. Paul,
especially those which are acknowledged to be genuine, as well as that of
the other writings of the New Testament, for the purpose of estimating the
value of their testimony on this subject. Even if some of these writings
are not allowed by unbelievers to be the productions of the persons whose
names they bear, still they are all of a very early date, and
unquestionably reflect the thoughts and ideas of those who wrote them, and
of the persons to whom they are addressed. But before I enter on my
immediate subject, it will be necessary to lay down the leading principles
of historical evidence, and to estimate the value of tradition as a
testimony to historical facts.

I am fully prepared to abide by the chief principles laid down by Sir G.
C. Lewis on this subject in his great work on the _Credibility of Early
Roman History_. They are generally considered to be sufficiently severe
and exacting. By many they are viewed as of far too stringent a character.
The evidence on which the great fact of the Resurrection rests, will
endure their most rigid application. They have this great advantage, that
they are laid down for the investigation of a subject purely secular, with
which religion has nothing to do. They are therefore wholly free from
religious bias, and are simply the principles for testing the claims of
ordinary facts on our belief. If the chief facts of Christianity can stand
this scrutiny, it is impossible to affirm that they are not supported by
the strongest historical testimony.

1. Every alleged fact, in order to be entitled to our belief, must be
shown to rest on direct contemporaneous testimony, or that which is its
historical equivalent.

This rule is by no means intended to affirm that every fact for which
contemporaneous testimony can be adduced is true; but only that it is to
be accepted as such when there is no reason for disbelieving it. We must
have some means to enable us to form a judgment of the knowledge and
veracity of the informant. It remains for consideration, when the direct
testimony of a contemporary is not to be had, as must be frequently the
case with events long past, what may be considered as its historical
equivalent?

It must be kept in mind that one of the most valuable forms of
contemporaneous testimony, if not the most valuable of all, is a set of
letters which contain various and definite allusions to the current
events, habits, and modes of thought of the time. For certain purposes
these are far more valuable than formal histories. The latter are
frequently written under the influence of party spirit, partiality, or
bias. The writer of a history is usually on his guard, has carefully
considered what he says, and affords us but little opportunity of
interrogating him. But the writer of a letter, unless he has special
reasons for being guarded, places before his correspondent his entire
mind. We are therefore capable of interrogating him. He often lets us into
the secret causes of events. He also makes a number of incidental
allusions to events which are passing. These form testimony of a most
valuable kind. We can in a manner almost converse with him. As a
confirmation of the facts which formal histories narrate, and as letting
us into the secret springs of events, a series of letters, written by
persons who were actively engaged in them, are historical documents of the
highest order. Their value is increased when they bear all the appearance
of coming from the writer’s heart. Nothing is more striking than the happy
results which have accrued from the extensive use made by modern
historians of original correspondence. It is not too much to say that it
has largely modified our view of events, as they have been reported in
formal histories. Another very high form of contemporaneous testimony is
the existence of institutions and monuments which can be certainly traced
up to a particular period, and which owed their existence to events of
that period. These form a species of living witnesses to the truth of the
facts out of which they have originated, and as far as their testimony
goes, it is incapable of falsehood. The most valuable testimony of this
kind is a great institution of which we possess definite evidence that it
originated in a particular event, or in the belief of it. This kind of
evidence Christianity possesses in the highest form, in the continued
existence of that great institution, the Christian Church.

2. Testimony has a general credibility, subject of course to the knowledge
and honesty of the informant, when the reports are derived from those who
lived during the generation in which a particular event occurred,
supposing it to have been one of sufficient notoriety to attract
attention, and that the reporter possessed adequate means of information,
and investigated it with sufficient care. We are always justified in
assuming that he tells the truth unless there are reasons for suspecting
the contrary.

3. Narratives of events which a man has heard from his father or his
contemporaries, but which happened before his own recollection, are for
the purpose of history, (but subject to the requisite qualifications) fair
representations of contemporaneous testimony.

History admits hearsay testimony under proper restrictions. The knowledge
of the past would be impossible, if it were to allow itself to be fettered
by the technical rules which have been introduced into the administration
of justice. The all‐important considerations with the historian, are the
notoriety of the fact and the truthfulness of the informant. Facts that a
man may have heard detailed by his grandfather or his contemporaries as
having happened in their time stand as representations of contemporaneous
testimony in the same position as those derived from the earlier
generation.

4. But when a third stage is interposed in the transmission of events, as
for instance when we learn from our fathers or grandfathers what they have
learnt from theirs, an element of uncertainty is introduced. Still an
historian, writing after such an interval of time, if he sifted evidence
with care, would be able to report with accuracy all the great events,
whatever difficulty he might have in ascertaining the minor details.
Within this period abundance of sources of accurate information exist on
all points of importance, although the details gradually fade out of
people’s recollections. After this interval, the accounts of events are
likely to receive a certain amount of colouring, according to the
prejudices of the narrators; but the interval is too short, and the
remembrance of them too recent, to allow of their becoming incrusted with
important mythical additions. All the materials for investigation are in
existence, and within the reach of the honest historian. He might find
difficulty in arranging the details in historical sequence; but if he does
not give an accurate account of the great outlines, it is owing, not to
the want of historical materials, but to the absence of a desire to
investigate and report the truth.

5. The limits of time during which tradition can be considered as a
sufficiently accurate medium for preserving the memory of events, may be
put generally at from one hundred to one hundred and twenty years. Within
this period careful investigation and inquiry will enable the historian to
report the main features of events with substantial truth, from the
testimony of those who were contemporaries, or who derived their
information from those who were. Beyond this period, when the knowledge of
occurrences has to pass through three or four media of transmission,
tradition becomes an uncertain and untrustworthy informant, and after the
lapse of a greater interval, it is utterly unreliable, affording no means
of checking the introduction of legendary narratives. There may be a few
exceptional cases which have impressed themselves deeply on the public
recollection. Occasionally the protracted lives of a few individuals may
lengthen the period of trustworthy transmission, but this is an event of
such rare occurrence as but slightly to modify the general rule.

It must be observed that there are two cases in which the traditional
knowledge of events is transmitted with far more accuracy, and over far
longer intervals of time than in ordinary ones, viz., those of families
which have an historical importance derived from the actions of their
ancestors, and those of bodies of men who have a kind of corporate life,
succeeding one another in unbroken succession, especially when this
corporate life is founded on the events themselves. This latter case
presents the means best adapted for the traditionary transmission of
facts, and one in which it is hardly possible that they should fail of
being accurately transmitted within a reasonable interval of time. This
was precisely the position occupied by the Christian Church during the
first century of its existence respecting the chief events in the life of
its founder.

An example will illustrate this: If there had been no written memorials of
the life of John Wesley, there can be no doubt that the society which he
founded would have handed down to the present day an account of the chief
events of his life, which would have been accurate in its main outlines.
Thousands of persons are now living who have conversed with those who have
heard him preach; I myself have done so. It would therefore be impossible
to impose upon them a wholly mythic account in place of that which would
have been handed down by the Wesleyan body. Yet this society is founded on
a set of dogmas, not on the historical facts of its founder’s life. The
Christian Church therefore was in a far superior position for preserving a
substantially accurate account of the chief events in the life of Jesus
Christ, yet the interval which separates us from the death of Wesley is
greater than that which elapsed between the death of Christ, and the
publication of the latest of the Synoptic Gospels, even if we accept the
dates which are assigned to them by our opponents.

6. When the knowledge of past events has perished, it is impossible to re‐
construct them by the aid of conjecture, except within the limits to which
I have previously alluded. These limits must be strictly defined,
otherwise that which is propounded as history becomes nothing else than a
statement of our subjective impressions. Conjectures which cannot stand
the test of historical verification cannot be accepted as facts of
history.

Nothing is easier than, when facts are wanting, to invent them, and thus
bridge over the intervals which lie between others, the connecting links
of which have perished. But how are we to know that such conjectural
events were real facts, and not mere creations of the imagination? Clearly
this can be determined in no other way than by subjecting them to a rigid
verification. If they will not endure this, they must be rejected.
Historical conjectures have no higher claims for acceptance than
scientific ones. Both must be subject to the same tests, and must share
the same fate. I do not deny that many such conjectures may have a
considerable degree of plausibility; but, unless we rigidly reject from
the rank of historic facts those that break down under the test of
verification, histories will be converted into novels or poems. If our
knowledge of the connecting links between events in the history of the
past has perished, we shall not improve it by imagining facts, and calling
the result by the name of history.

We cannot be too guarded in this particular subject, because an almost
boundless license has been introduced into the present controversy. Pure
creations of the imagination, which it is impossible to verify, are
constantly propounded as facts in the history of the past. I by no means
wish to deny that both parties must plead guilty to the charge of this
species of historical forgery. The fact may be unpleasant, but we shall do
no good by refusing to recognize it. When the knowledge of past events has
perished, and our conjectures break down under the test of verification,
we have nothing to do but to remain content with our ignorance.

If these principles are correct, a considerable number of recently
published lives of Jesus, and other similar compositions, have no claim to
the designation of historical writings. They are mere novels evolved out
of the self‐consciousness of their authors. They are nothing but simple
imaginations of what, under certain conjectural circumstances, might have
happened, but are destitute of all evidence that they actually occurred.
If history is thus degraded, it must become devoid of all scientific
value. I have pressed this point because nowhere is this license of
conjectural guessing at events more largely indulged in, than in questions
connected with the Bible and its criticism.





CHAPTER XVIII. THE TESTIMONY OF THE CHURCH, AND OF ST. PAUL’S EPISTLES, TO
THE FACTS OF PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY. THEIR HISTORICAL VALUE CONSIDERED.


I have in the preceding chapter drawn attention to the chief principles of
historical evidence, and to the importance of certain classes of
historical documents; also to the important bearing which the continued
existence of a great institution like the Christian Church has on this
subject, especially as its origin can be traced up to a definite period of
history. I have further shown that as the Church gives a definite account
of its origin, which, if true, is an adequate one; it is incumbent on
those who reject this account to propound another which shall be able to
stand the application of the principles of a sound philosophy of human
nature. I must now consider the evidence which the existence of the Church
as a visible institution, and the Epistles of St. Paul, afford to the
great facts on which Christianity is based.

If it can be proved beyond question that the Church immediately after it
assumed a distinctive form not only believed in the Resurrection of Jesus
Christ, as one among many miraculous facts, but affirmed that the belief
in its truth was the one sole ground of its corporate existence, within a
very short interval after the date of His crucifixion, it must be
admitted, even by unbelievers, to involve a question of the most serious
importance. It proves for certain that the belief in one miracle, and that
the greatest of all recorded in the Gospels, was neither a mythic nor a
legendary creation. It further follows that if the original followers of
Jesus thought that He had risen from the dead, it may be taken as a moral
certainty that they must have believed that other supernatural actions
were performed by Him during His life. The solution which unbelievers
propound as the account of the origin of the miraculous narratives in the
Gospels is that they are a gradual creation of a mythic and legendary
spirit. Hence their efforts to assign them to the latest possible date. If
their publication can be deferred to the early years of the second
century, they consider that this would afford the requisite time for
surrounding the history of Jesus with a halo of mythic and legendary
environment. But if it can be shown that the new‐born Christian Church,
within a short interval after the Crucifixion, affirmed that the sole
ground of its renewed life was the belief in the Resurrection of its
founder, the possibility that such belief could have been either mythic or
legendary is taken away. Whatever may be urged about the other parts of
the story, there remains one miracle (and that the greatest of all), which
it is impossible to affirm to have been either a mythical or a legendary
creation. If the Church accepted it as the sole ground of its existence,
and if that belief can be traced to the hour of its birth, it must have
been due either to some species of delusion, or to a fact. If Jesus was
thus believed to have risen from the dead, it is useless to assign the
belief in His other miracles to a later legendary spirit.

But further: The Church, within a short number of years from the date of
its birth, must have had all the consciousness that it was a young
society. It was engaged in a constant struggle for existence, and had
before it the alternative of enlarging its numbers, or perishing. A new
society constantly struggling for existence could not fail within this
interval of time to have the most lively consciousness of what it was to
which it owed its origin, and which formed the bond of union among its
members. It must have been to them a constantly recurring thought. Every
one must have known that it was an alleged miraculous fact, a supposed
Resurrection of one who had been crucified. Was it possible for the
members of such a society to avoid looking back with anxiety on the
alleged ground of its existence? It was no dogma capable of endless
discussion, but a fact. The bond of union was allegiance to a living
person. Is it conceivable that this person was not the object of daily
interest to its members, or that they did not make His history the subject
of earnest inquiry? Can we suppose for one moment that any of them were
ignorant of or had forgotten the grounds on which they had joined the new
community, or which formed the basis of its life? The recollections of the
members of a society which is only between twenty and thirty years old
must be fresh.

But it may be said, these people were very credulous. Be it so. Credulous
people placed in the circumstances of the Christian Church are never
deficient in curiosity. Even if the belief in the Resurrection of Jesus
had originated in credulity, the first principles of human nature would
have urged them to get all the information which they could respecting it.
They were in the exact position to enable them to do this. Within ten,
twenty, thirty, or forty years, there must have been plenty of information
at hand to enable them to ascertain whether the society to which they
belonged did or did not owe its existence to this belief, and to get full
information as to the general outline of the story on which it was
founded. It is impossible for members of a society whose origin was so
recent to have remained ignorant of the circumstances which gave it birth.
They must have been handed down by a lively tradition. I conclude
therefore, that it would have been simply impossible for the members of
the Church, within this short time, to be mistaken as to whether its
existence and continued life was due to the belief that its founder had
risen from the dead, or whether He was supposed to have worked miracles
during His life; and that its belief could not have been due to mythic or
legendary causes.

The question before us then, becomes clear and definite, freed from the
vagueness with which it has been endeavoured to obscure it. If it can be
proved that the Christian Church owed its origin to its belief in the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ, and that its renewed life began within the
briefest interval after His crucifixion, the whole discussion becomes
narrowed into the following issue: Is it possible that such a belief,
within so short a time after His death, could have originated in a
fiction? Three alternatives are open for our acceptance, and three only;
either:

Jesus did not really die, while his followers supposed that He had, and
they mistook some appearance of Him after His crucifixion for a
resurrection:

Or they imagined that He appeared to some of them after His death, but the
appearance was a delusion of their imaginations:

Or He rose from the dead as an objective fact.

Other alternatives there are none; and with respect to this particular
miracle, the whole apparatus of myth, legend, development and compromise,
which is so liberally used to account for the supernatural portions of the
Gospels, is simply worthless as a rational account of the origin of the
story.

A very bold affirmation has been made, that no contemporary testimony can
be adduced for the performance of any miracle recorded in the New
Testament. This assertion is founded on the supposition that none of the
Gospels can be proved to have been written earlier than the end of the
first, or the beginning of the second century. It is alleged that they are
of very uncertain authorship, that two of them do not profess to
communicate anything but second‐hand information; and the proof of the
early composition of the other two utterly fails. The three first Gospels
being thus quietly assigned to the region of myths and legends, and the
fourth affirmed to be a forgery, it is asserted that contemporary evidence
for the truth of the supernatural narratives of the Gospels wholly
disappears.

What then is contemporaneous testimony to a fact? Few persons who actually
witness events compose histories of them. There is scarcely an account of
a great battle which has been composed by the general who commanded in it;
and when such accounts have been published by persons who were actually
present, they could have witnessed but a small portion of the events which
they describe. Such is the case with the great mass of facts which
constitute the history of the past. The chief actors in them are seldom
the historians.

But although such persons rarely compose narratives of events at which
they were actually present, yet it is quite possible to possess testimony
which for all practical purposes is of equal value. As I have already
pointed out, such testimony consists of historical documents composed by
persons who lived during the time in question, and who had ample means of
procuring information from those who must have known the truth of the
occurrences.

We possess contemporaneous testimony of the highest order in the Epistles
of St. Paul. I have already observed that no documents are of higher
historical value than letters composed by persons actively engaged in the
events to which they refer. I must now point out specifically the
importance of these letters as historical documents.

First: four of the longest of them are admitted, by every school of
unbelievers, who have given any consideration to the subject, to be the
genuine productions of the Apostle. The evidence, both external and
internal, of his authorship, is of the highest character. If it is not
valid to prove that they were written by him, all historical certitude is
rendered impossible. They are the two to the Corinthians, and those
addressed to the Romans and the Galatians. Their importance is greatly
enhanced by their presenting to us a more distinct picture of the
innermost life of the Apostle than any others which have been attributed
to him. To these may be added four more, viz. the two to the
Thessalonians, and those to the Philippians and to Philemon, which,
although doubted by some, are yet fully admitted by other unbelievers,
among whom is Renan, to be genuine. The internal evidence that the
Epistles to the Philippians and to Philemon were written by the same
person who composed those to the Corinthians and Galatians, is as strong
as such evidence can possibly be. The whole form of thought is instinct
with the presence of the same mind. Nor can the two to the Thessalonians
admit of any reasonable doubt. To these follow the two to the Colossians
and the Ephesians, for which the evidence is certainly less strong; but
Renan admits that it greatly preponderates on the side of their being
genuine productions of St. Paul. Altogether, then, we have eight letters
which are undoubtedly his, and two more which are probably so; instinct
with his mind, and placing before us a vivid picture of the innermost life
of the early Church.

Secondly, as to their date. Six of them were unquestionably written within
twenty‐eight years after the crucifixion, by the most active agent in the
propagation of Christianity, who had been employed in this work for a
period of at least eighteen years previously. Let us consider what such a
period of time really means. Twenty‐eight years is about the period which
lies between the present year and the repeal of the corn‐laws. While some
of those who effected it have passed away, many of those who took a most
active part in it are still living. All the events connected with it lie
within the period of the most lively historical recollection. Many persons
are still alive who can look back with the most perfect reminiscence to
the great events of the anti‐corn‐law agitation. While these persons live,
it will be impossible to encircle the chief actors in it with a halo of
myth or legend. In precisely the same position must multitudes have stood
to the ministry of Jesus Christ, and the foundation of the Christian
Church, when these Epistles were written. The fact is worthy of our
deepest attention, that when we read these letters and the various
statements they contain, we are in the immediate presence of some of the
most important events in history.

Although St. Paul had never seen Jesus himself, yet his age was such when
he wrote these letters, that his recollection was good for many years
before the commencement of His ministry. Great numbers of persons also
were alive whose recollections of events that occurred at a much earlier
date must have been distinct and clear. With the early followers of Jesus
he had for not less than twenty years every facility for holding
communication. Is it to be believed that a man whose entire being was
swallowed up in one continuous sacrifice of himself to Jesus Christ, and
who was penetrated with the profoundest love towards Him, had not
accurately informed himself of the great facts of His earthly life, when
during the last twenty years he had enjoyed every means of obtaining
information from His followers, and previously had investigated it with
the keen scent of an angry persecutor? The idea is incredible. In these
letters of St. Paul therefore, as far as they throw light on this subject,
we are in the presence of contemporaneous historical evidence of the
highest order.

Thirdly: Although these letters were written within so brief an interval
after the Crucifixion as from twenty‐five to thirty years, yet they afford
evidence which carries us up to a much earlier period. St. Paul’s
conversion dates at least eighteen years earlier than the earliest of
them. His testimony therefore is good as to the general nature of the
beliefs of the Christian Church during the whole period of his ministry.
It proves, among many other things, this all‐important point, that the
Resurrection of Christ was believed by the whole Christian community, and
formed the groundwork of the existence of the Church, within less than ten
years after the crucifixion. But the Apostle’s hostile connection with the
Christian sect dates still earlier. As a persecutor he must have
ascertained what were the leading subjects of the Christian belief, and
must have subjected the whole matter to a rigid investigation. Above all,
he could not have failed to know whether the belief in the Resurrection of
Christ was or was not from its commencement the ground of the renewed life
of the Christian Church.

Every consideration must have induced him when a persecutor to make this
entire question the subject of a most careful investigation. Nothing was
more important than that he should ascertain whether any considerable
interval had elapsed between the Crucifixion of Christ and the propagation
of the report of His Resurrection; and his means of ascertaining the truth
about it must have been complete. To determine this for certain would have
been most important in his work of convicting the founders of the new sect
of imposture; for if any considerable time had elapsed between the death
and reported resurrection, it would have afforded that of which all the
theories of unbelief stand in need, a sufficient interval for the delusion
to grow and propagate itself; or, if the belief was the result of fraud,
for the imposition to be concocted and spread. St. Paul’s testimony
therefore affords the most conclusive proof that the belief in the
Resurrection as a fact was contemporaneous with the foundation of the
Church; that it was the cause of its renewed vitality; that no interval
could have elapsed between the death of Jesus and His reported
resurrection, sufficient for the growth of myth or legend, the fabrication
of an imposture, or the gradual spreading of the hallucinations of a
single individual among a multitude of persons. In one word, if the belief
in the Resurrection originated in the conversion of some subjective
delusion into an objective fact, it must have been one which spread with
incomprehensible rapidity.

These letters also form the most convincing proof, not only that the
Resurrection was universally believed as a fact by the communities to
which they were addressed, but that it was accepted by the individual
members of these Churches from the first commencement of their
Christianity. Although two of these Churches had been planted by St. Paul,
that of the Romans was not planted by him, and was of considerable
standing when he wrote the letter. Its fame had spread throughout the
whole Christian world. Everything in the Epistle denotes that its
Christianity was of no recent growth. Many of these Churches, especially
the Jewish portions of them, could carry their recollections up to a much
earlier time. It should be carefully observed that the interval of twenty‐
eight years from the foundation of a sect is a period wholly insufficient
for the growth of an hereditary and otiose faith. The majority of the
members of these Churches were beyond all doubt actual converts, who had
once been either Jews or Pagans. However credulous we may suppose them to
have been, their conversion must have been due to an inquiry of some kind.
The short period which had elapsed since the foundation of the Church and
the supreme interest which the whole of the events and circumstances must
have excited in the converts, were precisely what was requisite for
preserving traditionary recollections with the utmost soundness. There
could have been no doubt in any of their minds whether or not the belief
in the Resurrection was the groundwork of their Christianity. They must
have known therefore whether it was a story which had gradually spread, or
had existed from the beginning; or whether the peculiar form of it was an
invention of St. Paul; or whether it was the foundation of the convictions
of those by whom they had been converted. The manner in which the fact of
the Resurrection is referred to in these Epistles proves that the belief
was of no recent growth, but had existed from the beginning. The Epistle
to the Romans opens with these words:—“Concerning His Son Jesus Christ ...
who was declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit
of holiness, _by the resurrection from the dead_.” It is impossible that a
writer could have made such a reference as this at the opening of his
letter, unless he had been certain that the belief in the Resurrection had
been accepted as a fact by those whom he addressed, and by the whole
Christian community with whom they were acquainted.

But further: it is utterly incredible that if the converts accepted the
fact of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ as the foundation of their
Christianity, they should have contentedly remained ignorant of the facts
of His previous history, at a period when there must have been abundant
means of obtaining an acquaintance with it.

Fourthly: the value of these letters as historical documents is greatly
increased by the fact that a strong spirit of party existed in the
Churches. None are more ready to accept the fact that the Church was
divided into a number of parties than the opponents of Christianity. Not
only have they admitted it, but for their own purposes they have greatly
exaggerated it. But it is a weapon which can be used in defence of
Christianity more efficaciously than in opposition to it. It is clear on
the face of these letters not only that the Churches were divided into
parties, but that party‐spirit existed in them with considerable violence.
It is needless for the purpose of the present argument to ascertain the
number of the parties into which some of the Churches were divided; but
these letters, confirmed as they are by incidental references in the Acts
of the Apostles, leave no doubt that the opposition between St. Paul and
those who followed his teaching, and a powerful Judaizing party in the
Church, was of a very decided character; that this party had a great
dislike to the person of the Apostle; and that he himself denounced them
as corrupters of the fundamental principles of the Gospel. They make it
quite clear that even in the Churches of which he was the founder, the
Apostle was far from having it all his own way. Judaizing teachers had
made very considerable progress in alienating the Galatian Churches from
him. His letter to these Churches discusses the entire question between
him and his opponents, who actually went the length of denying his
apostolical authority. In the Church of Corinth also there was a powerful
Judaizing party, who affirmed that he was no true Apostle. In this Church
there were also other parties who designated themselves by the names of
particular leaders in various degrees of opposition to St. Paul. It is
evident that these parties must have derived their views of Christianity
from a source quite independent of the Apostle. Portions of the first and
not less than half of the second Epistle are occupied by St. Paul in
setting forth his claims in opposition to these leaders. It is altogether
a mistake to suppose that these Churches were disposed to accept his
assertions without question, as equivalent to oracles from Heaven. On the
contrary, Judaizing teachers habitually followed his steps, and to some
extent succeeded in subverting the faith even of his own converts.

Nothing can more enhance the value of these letters as historical
documents than the existence of this party‐spirit in the Churches to which
they were addressed. If St. Paul had written them to none but devoted
admirers, as is frequently the case with the leaders of religious sects,
his assertions might have been open to grave suspicion. It might have been
urged that such persons were ready to accept anything and everything which
he affirmed. But nothing is more keen‐eyed than religious party‐spirit in
detecting and denouncing the false positions of an opponent, even when it
is sufficiently ready to accept everything which makes in its own favour.
So strong was the opposition to the Apostle, that in two of these
Churches, as we have seen, a powerful party existed who went the extreme
length of denying his right to the apostolic office. Yet these letters
were not only intended to be read to the whole Church, but portions of
them are directly addressed to the opponents in question. What guarantee
of the truthfulness of statements can compare with this? The Apostle’s
letters are openly read in the presence of the opposing party, before the
assembled Church, challenging them to impugn his statements. It will
perhaps be objected that we have no record of the discussion which
followed the reading of his letters, and of the results attending it. The
second Epistle to the Corinthians has preserved some of those results,
though it is plain that an opposing party still continued. This Epistle is
a very strenuous attack on them. The man who had the moral courage to
write such letters as the second to the Corinthians and that to the
Galatians, to be openly read in the presence of his adversaries, must have
been well assured of the goodness of his cause. Common sense alone would
have suggested to him not to make in them statements which were sure to
receive direct and instant contradiction.

It is clear, therefore, that certain points on which these letters make
very definite statements must have been held in common by St. Paul and his
opponents. If it had not been so, it is impossible that the letters could
have been written in their present form. The Christianity on which the two
parties agreed beyond all doubt, concentrated itself around the Messianic
character of Jesus. The letters themselves make the points on which they
disagreed sufficiently obvious, centering as they did on the necessity of
observing the rites of the Mosaic law in the Christian Church. But the
Epistles contain a vast number of allusions to other subjects, not a few
of which are of a very incidental character. What is the only legitimate
inference which can be deduced from this circumstance? Obviously that the
Apostle wrote them with the fullest conviction that his statements on
these subjects would be accepted by his opponents as part of their joint
belief; and not only by them, but by all the members of the Church. It is
inconceivable that a man of the mental calibre of St. Paul should have
written letters such as those to the Corinthians and Galatians, abounding
as they do with references to facts and doctrines, if he had not been
fully persuaded that they constituted the common faith of himself and
those to whom he wrote.

It is impossible to over‐estimate the historical importance of letters
like these, when in this incidental manner they contain numerous
references to facts and opinions, and to the actual controversies then
existing in the Church. The form in which they are made constitute us
almost as adequate judges of their value as if we were able to interrogate
their author. We have him, in fact, in the witness‐box before us, and can
narrowly scrutinize his mental character. They can leave no doubt on our
minds as to whether the allusions were incidental, or made for a purpose.
The value of letters, written by persons who have impressed on them the
image of their own inner life and character, and referring at the same
time to current events and opinions, is now universally acknowledged as
the best means of correcting the mistakes and misrepresentations of formal
histories. But when we take into consideration that these letters of St.
Paul are outpourings of his inmost mind, intended not only for admiring
friends, but for scrutinizing opponents, we have before us historical
evidence of the highest order.

Fifthly: The Apostle presents himself to us in these letters in the
fullest outbursts of his heart. We have the whole man before us,
intellectually, morally, and religiously. Probably no eight letters exist
in all literature, from which it is possible to construct in equal fulness
the mental portraiture of the writer. Nowhere can we find stronger bursts
of feeling. He was a man of deep sensibility, united with the firmest
resolve. His sacrifice of self, and complete freedom from all selfish
aims, is exceeded by only one character in history. Who can read these
letters through, and question the sincerity of the writer? Can any one
believe that he was not true to his convictions, or that he was capable of
deliberately stating what he knew to be false? If the facts were not as he
has stated them, the only possible alternative is that he was the prey of
an hallucination. Yet in every detail of business, and in disposing of all
practical questions, his judgment was of the soundest character.

There is one remarkable fact which these letters bring out distinctly,
which is probably true of no other man that ever lived. The Apostle
claimed to decide certain questions authoritatively in virtue of a divine
guidance which he possessed. He gave that decision on two points, having
the closest bearing on the daily life of the Christians of that day, and
which excited deep conscientious scruples. These were: whether the
obligation of observing certain days was binding on the Christian
conscience, and whether it was unlawful to eat meat which had been offered
in sacrifice to a heathen god. On each of these points he gives his own
apostolical decision; yet in the very act of doing so, he directly enjoins
that the conscientious scruples of those who could not acquiesce in it
should be respected. Can this be said of any other man who thought that he
possessed a supernatural guidance? Enthusiastic he was; but his was an
enthusiasm which did not blind his judgment. He was a man, too, of a
highly delicate mind, yet capable of using a refined sarcasm in dealing
with his opponents. We have the whole man before us, and his entire
character renders him a witness of the highest order.

As modern unbelievers refuse to allow us to appeal to the Gospels as
historical documents, it becomes a matter of the highest importance to
ascertain what facts in connection with the origin of Christianity and the
beliefs of the earliest followers of Jesus can be established with the aid
of these letters. Unbelievers cannot dispute that they are the authentic
writings of the most active agent in the propagation of Christianity, who
has contributed more to its permanent establishment than any other of the
disciples of Jesus. This being so, it is impossible to deny that they are
contemporary historical records of the highest value. Our opponents demand
contemporary testimony, and we present them with the Epistles of St. Paul.
In pursuing this argument, it will be my duty to forget that we Christians
consider that the man who wrote them had a supernatural guidance, and to
use them as I would the letters of Cicero. I will proceed to examine their
testimony.

First: It has been asserted, with a view of weakening the evidence of the
supernatural portions of the New Testament, that although its writers have
reported miracles as wrought by others, not one of them has affirmed that
he himself ever performed one.

I reply that St. Paul distinctly affirms that he believed he wrought
miracles. “Truly,” says he, “the signs of an apostle were wrought among
you in all patience, in signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds.” (2 Cor.
xii. 12.) He here affirms that such a power was possessed not only by
himself, but by other Apostles also. The power to perform “signs, wonders,
and mighty deeds” was directly connected with the apostolic office.

Again, he says to the Galatians (iii. 5), “He that ministereth to you the
Spirit, and worketh miracles among you.” In this reference he evidently
means himself, and affirms that he had performed miracles in Galatia.

In the Epistle to the Romans he makes the following affirmation: “For I
will not dare to speak of any of those things which Christ hath not
wrought by me, to make the Gentiles obedient, by word and deed, through
mighty signs and wonders, by the power of the Spirit of God; so that from
Jerusalem, and round about unto Illyricum, I have fully preached the
Gospel of Christ.” (Rom. xv. 18, 19.) Here then we have St. Paul’s direct
affirmation that in his own opinion, throughout the mission in question,
he had been in the habit of performing “mighty signs and wonders.” After
these passages it is needless to quote further. The Apostle deliberately
affirms to the Corinthians and Galatians that he performed miracles, and
the whole passage makes it clear that he supposed they would fully
recognize the fact of his having done so. Of course this affirmation does
not prove that they were real miracles; but it does prove that he and
those to whom he wrote thought that they were so. Not less distinct is his
affirmation to the Romans. These passages further distinctly prove that it
was an accepted belief in the Churches when the Apostle wrote, and even at
a much earlier period, that supernatural manifestations attended the early
preaching of Christianity. It follows therefore that the invention of
miraculous stories was not due to a later mythic and legendary spirit.
This the statement made by the Apostle in his Epistle to the Romans
distinctly proves; for he evidently considered that he had been in the
habit of performing miracles up to the very time when he wrote the letter,
and during the whole course of his preceding ministry. Also the
affirmation that miracles were the signs of an Apostle, and admitted to be
such, is a strong corroboration of the statement made by the Synoptics
that our Lord was supposed to have conferred such powers on the Apostles;
and as it is simply incredible that any should have believed that He
conferred on the Apostles powers which He did not exercise himself, it
carries up the belief of the Church that Jesus was a professed worker of
miracles to the very first years of Christianity. I am quite aware that
these beliefs of the Church do not prove these miracles to have been real
ones. But they do prove that the belief in their actual performance was
contemporary with the birth of Christianity itself. They therefore could
not have originated, as the opponents of Christianity are never weary of
assuming, in a mythic or legendary spirit; for myths and legends require a
considerable time to grow; and it is impossible that they can encircle an
eminent character with an unreal halo till after those who witnessed his
actions and personally know him are silent in the grave. But in the case
before us we have affirmations of St. Paul respecting himself, which put
the whole apparatus of myths and legends out of the question. If then this
belief in the manifestation of a supernatural power in connection with
Christianity dates thus early, there are only three modes in which it is
possible to account for it, viz. that it was due to deliberate and
conscious imposture; or that Jesus and His immediate followers laboured
under a delusion when they thought that they performed miracles; or that
they were really wrought. As no one now‐a‐days pretends to maintain the
truth of the first alternative, we may dismiss it from further
consideration.

But it will be asserted that St. Paul does not mention any specific
miracles which he considered that he had performed, and that his
statements are merely general. I reply that such a mode of statement is
precisely what we should expect to find in a letter of this kind, and is
just the one which would be adopted by a person who was satisfied that
those to whom he was writing were as firmly convinced of the fact as he
was himself.... A formal and distinct description of the miracles which he
had performed would have been quite out of place in a reference of this
kind, and would have implied that doubts respecting them existed on one
side or the other. Besides, the words which he uses embrace all the
different expressions by which the various kinds and aspects of miracles
are designated in the New Testament.

Secondly: These letters also afford unquestionable evidence that at the
time when they were written both the writer and those to whom he addressed
them, were firmly convinced that there was then actively operating in the
Church a number of supernatural manifestations of a very peculiar
character, and widely different from any species of supernatural belief
which has been current before or since. I allude to the gifts of the
Spirit, to which the Apostle has so frequently alluded in these Epistles,
and of the nature of which he has in those to the Corinthians given a
distinct account, together with definite rules to regulate their use. The
reason why he has given us a far more definite account of this class of
manifestations than of the other is obvious. In the Church in question
they had become the subjects of ambitious rivalry, and under its influence
some of them had been perverted to pernicious uses. The whole subject is
definitely treated of in the 12th, 13th, and 14th chapters of the first
Epistle to the Corinthians, besides a number of distinct references to it
in other portions of his writings. These assertions on the part of St.
Paul that both he and those to whom he wrote were fully of opinion that
supernatural powers were then manifested in the Church, are so clear that
they require a most careful consideration. The following points respecting
them are proved by this Epistle.

1. That St. Paul, and the various parties in the Corinthian Church,
however much they might disagree on other points, fully believed that
these supernatural powers were _then and there_ manifesting themselves in
the Church. This belief might have been a delusion, but the letter proves
beyond doubt that it was entertained by the whole Church, including all
its various parties.

2. That these gifts were earnestly coveted by the various members of this
Church; that many of them made a very ostentatious use of them; and that
stringent rules were required to prevent their use from degenerating into
an abuse.

3. Nine of these supernatural endowments are enumerated by the Apostle. It
is not clear whether the list is intended to be exhaustive. Probably it is
not; but it is evident that the writer intended to enumerate the chief of
them. They are as follows: the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, faith; gifts of
healing (χαρίσματα ἰαμάτων); working of miracles (ἐνεργήματα δυναμέων);
the gift of prophecy, those of discerning spirits; tongues and
interpretation. This list of gifts in a slightly altered form is repeated
no less than three times in the same chapter. They are affirmed to be
supernatural endowments, qualifying the possessor for distinct functions
in the Church. It is worthy of particular remark, as showing how free the
Apostle was from contemplating the subject with the eye of a credulous
enthusiast, that he distinctly asserts that they were designed for a
definite purpose only, and that when that was effected they were to cease.
A fanatic would certainly have considered that they were destined to
continue for ever. This point is worthy of our deepest attention.

4. The existence of a marked distinction between these gifts is definitely
affirmed by the Apostle. They were not confined to a particular order of
men, but were spread over the entire community. They also differed not
only in kind but in degree. Some of them subserved higher, others humbler
purposes. The reason for which they were given was the building up of the
Church into a distinctive community. When that was effected they were to
cease.

5. The Apostle also most carefully points out that a distinction of
function existed between these various supernatural endowments. This is a
very important consideration. Whether we view them as realities, or as
delusions, it is plain that this distinction of function must have pointed
to some corresponding facts well known in the Church, at the time when the
Epistles were written. The possession of one of them by no means implied
that of another, although the subject‐matter upon which they operated was
closely akin. Thus the possession of the gift of tongues (whatever it may
have been), did not imply the possession of the gift of interpretation. On
the contrary, the rules which the Apostle gives for the regulation of
those gifts, as well as his statements respecting them, prove that they
were a set of distinct manifestations, and were possessed very often by
different persons, and that the presence of the one power by no means
implied that of the other. This must unquestionably point to the existence
of a remarkable phenomenon of some kind. Even if it is supposed that St.
Paul and those to whom he wrote were labouring under a delusion, it proves
that the Apostle possessed a power of discrimination which is not
exhibited by an ordinary enthusiast or fanatic.

A distinction which St. Paul affirms to have existed between two of these
gifts, viz. between the gifts of healing and of miracles, deserves special
attention. That a real distinction existed between them is affirmed three
times over in the same chapter. Both of these gifts, according to our
present mode of viewing the subject, would be confounded under the
designation of a power of working miracles. But it is clear from the
Apostle’s statement, that he, and those to whom he wrote, saw an
appreciable distinction between them. “To another,” says he, “are given
the gifts of healing by the same Spirit; to another the working of
miracles.” “But all these worketh that one and the self‐same Spirit,
_dividing to every man severally as he will_.” (1 Cor. xii. 9‐11.) Again,
in summing up their relative importance, he says: “thirdly teachers, after
that miracles, _then gifts of healing_,” (ver. 28); and again, as
qualifying individuals for particular offices: “Are all apostles? are all
prophets? _are all workers of miracles? Have all the gifts of healing?_”
(ver. 29, 30.) Now although we may deny that these phenomena were
supernatural in their character, it is plain that there must have been
something in existence in this Church corresponding to them, and of which
they were the supposed manifestation. The Apostle and those to whom be
wrote evidently understood one another.

What this distinction was it is now impossible accurately to determine. As
I have already observed, it probably had reference to a higher and lower
class of miracles; those which were in the proper sense evidential; and
those which might in various degrees have resembled the act mentioned by
St. James, the anointing a sick man with oil in the name of the Lord, the
offering fervent prayer for his recovery, and the gradual cure of his
complaint. Such would belong to a lower class of miracles to which I have
elsewhere alluded, as rather fitted to procure a favourable attention to
the missionary than for evidential purposes. Be the distinction what it
may, and even supposing that St. Paul and the Corinthians were under a
delusion as to their supernatural character, it is plain that some real
difference, which was clearly distinguishable, must have existed in the
outward manifestations. This is a fact of very considerable importance, as
it proves that both the Apostle and the Corinthians were in a state of
mind in which they were capable of exercising a clear discrimination
between these gifts, which is the last thing of which visionary and
credulous enthusiasts ever think.

6. These gifts were likewise clearly separate in respect to the subject‐
matter on which they operated. The Apostle and the Corinthians supposed
that they communicated a supernatural illumination of some kind; but the
illumination conferred by one might leave the possessor completely in the
dark with respect to the special subject‐matter of the other. This is
definitely affirmed with respect to the gift of tongues, and
interpretation. A person might possess the former and yet be altogether
destitute of the latter. There can be no doubt that the same analogy ran
through them all. This is affirmed when St. Paul asserts that all these
gifts were the work of one and the same Spirit _dividing to every man
severally as he will_ (1 Cor. xii), and is implied by the comparison which
he institutes between them and the members of the human body and their
respective functions. Thus: the power of seeing furnishes no information
in matters of sound; nor the latter on the perceptions we derive through
the sense of smell. Equally functional were these gifts, each being
confined to its own proper subject‐matter. If the idea was that the
possessor had an inspiration, as far as respects the subject‐matter of his
gift, it conferred on him no supernatural knowledge on matters outside its
special function. Thus a man who had the gift of tongues might remain
perfectly ignorant of the interpretation of them, if he had not the latter
gift. One who possessed the power of discerning of spirits might have been
destitute of the power of working miracles. One who had the gift of
prophecy might have had no illumination with respect to that special
knowledge which was conferred by the gift of wisdom. The inspiration which
was supposed to be conferred by them, conferred no general
infallibility—it was strictly functional and did not extend beyond the
limits of the gift.

All these points are of the highest importance in an historical point of
view. Whether we think that St. Paul and the Corinthians were, or were
not, under delusions about this matter, they clearly prove that there must
have been phenomena of some kind which were supposed to be the results of
the gifts in question; and that the persons who believed that they
possessed them exercised a discriminating judgment respecting them. It is
no less clear that they did believe that they actually possessed them.
Some of them were of such a nature that it is difficult to comprehend how
the possessor could be under delusion on the subject. Take for example the
power of discerning spirits. Once the possessor had it not. Afterwards he
must have believed that he possessed a supernatural insight into the
character of others. It is difficult to comprehend how a man’s
consciousness could be deceived on a point like this. He must have surely
known whether within a definite period of time he had obtained an insight
into character, which he did not possess before. Everywhere in the account
given us of these gifts we seem to be dealing with facts. The distinctions
laid down as existing between them, and the separateness of their
functions are truly philosophical, supposing the gifts to have been real,
and were the last things which were likely to have occurred to credulous
enthusiasts.

7. These gifts admitted of being abused. The possession of them was not
sufficient to confer any infallibility in the use of them. This fact is
worthy of deep attention, not only as pointing to the reality of the
manifestations but to the soundness of the Apostle’s judgment. If these
gifts had been mere inventions of a credulous imagination they would have
been represented as guarded from the possibility of abuse by the
supernatural power in which they originated. Even at the present day it is
a very common idea that the gift of inspiration cannot possibly be a
functional one which is limited to a definite subject‐matter, but that it
must confer a general infallibility. Very different were the views of St.
Paul and of the Churches to which he wrote. The Apostle was of opinion
that when they had been once conferred, they were subject to the control
of the will, and capable of a good or bad use in the same manner as our
ordinary faculties. His statement is clear that in this Church they were
used in a manner little conducive to edification. In order to suppress
this abuse he adopted some stringent rules. No person was to be allowed in
the congregation to use the gift of tongues (a gift which he was so far
from underrating that he thanked God that he possessed it more largely
than any other member of the Church), unless there was some one present
who had the gift of interpretation. The gift of prophecy held the second
rank in point of importance. Yet from the eagerness of its possessors to
use it, confusion arose in the congregation; and the Apostle was compelled
to prescribe rules for limiting its exercise and enforcing order among the
prophets. The more the account is studied the stronger must be the
conviction that it points to actual phenomena, which were exhibited in the
Apostolic Churches; and that St. Paul, in his description of them,
exhibits the strongest indications of a sound judgment.

Such were the phenomena which the Apostle, and those to whom he wrote,
considered to be supernatural manifestations. I observe respecting them:

First: That it is clear that when St. Paul wrote these Epistles, both he
and those whom he addressed were fully persuaded that certain supernatural
manifestations were then habitually present in the Church. It is
impossible to attribute this belief to the presence of the mythic or
legendary spirit.

Secondly: It is clear from other statements in the Epistles, not only that
St. Paul firmly believed that he himself was endowed with several of these
supernatural gifts, but that he had been the means of imparting them to
others.

Thirdly: If we consider the nature of some of these gifts, it is difficult
to conceive that a man like St. Paul could have been deceived respecting
their reality. Several of them involved accessions of mental power, as for
example the gift of wisdom, knowledge, and discerning of spirits. He must
have known that at one time he had nothing but his natural endowments. At
a later period he must have believed that his wisdom, knowledge, and power
of discerning character was increased. These must have been definite facts
of his mental consciousness. It is difficult to conceive how delusion was
possible, when in his treatment of the entire subject he displays such
clear indications of sound judgment and common sense.

Fourthly: It is necessary to suppose not only that St. Paul was a prey to
delusion on this subject—if we deny that the gifts were real—but that a
similar delusion was spread over the entire Church. Its individual members
believed that they possessed them, no less than the Apostle. Those who
possessed only the lower gifts were emulously desirous of possessing the
higher ones. They also made an ostentatious use of them. Such are not the
phenomena presented by enthusiasm. Was it possible that considerable
numbers of persons should be deceived in supposing that they had acquired
particular mental endowments of which they well knew that they had been
previously destitute?

Fifthly: While the phenomena under consideration were unquestionably
believed both by St. Paul and the Corinthian Church to be supernatural
manifestations, yet it is a supernaturalism which differs in its entire
aspect and character from any other which has been believed in by man. We
may wander over the entire regions of history and fable, and we shall fail
to find any belief in the supernatural, bearing the smallest resemblance
to it. It is most definitely contrasted with that which has been ascribed
to the contemporaries of our Lord; and which I have considered in the
earlier portions of this work. Whence has come this most striking
contrast? If St. Paul and the members of the Corinthian Church were a prey
to the superstitious beliefs above referred to, how was it possible for
them to have considered themselves to be living in the midst of an
atmosphere which presented so marvellous a contrast. The gifts, if real,
were precisely suited to the wants of the Church, for building it up into
the great institution which it became. It required accessions to its
numbers from the populations in the midst of which it lived. The two
miraculous gifts, even if they were not evidential, were fitted to draw
attention to its claims. Collected as its members were from Judaism and
Heathenism, without sufficient means for their definite instruction, those
who performed this office were qualified for it by two gifts conferring
various degrees of enlightenment. Then there was the prophet, who as an
inspired preacher expounded and enforced the truths of Christianity. Its
members were ill‐qualified for public offices, owing to the low condition
of the society from which they sprang. Here again were two mental
endowments to supply the need, the power of discerning spirits and the
supernatural gift of faith. All these gifts here enumerated, were the very
endowments suited for the building up of a body of converts taken from
such unpromising sources, into the great society to which it speedily
grew. A new society had to be formed of a wholly different character from
any previously existing. It was designed to leaven by new influences the
state of religious, moral, and political thought out of which it
originated. The old social organization met it with determined opposition.
The problem was how was it to be erected on such a basis as would give it
permanence? The Church of Jesus Christ was to be a new moral creation in
the midst of effete society. An extensive communication of endowments,
such as are referred to in the Pauline Epistles, was the very thing which
was requisite to accomplish this purpose. It came into existence; it grew;
it struggled; it conquered; it subverted the old forms of civilization; it
created new ones. These are facts which require to be accounted for. The
forces referred to in these Epistles as in active energy before the eyes
of St. Paul and the members of these Churches, were adequate to have
effected this. Without some such moral creation attending the first
planting of Christianity, the formation of this unique society out of the
various elements of which it was composed, and their welding together into
an organization instinct with life, which has imbued with its principles
all existing institutions, must remain a problem which baffles all the
attempts of philosophy to solve.

Lastly: These letters prove on the highest historical evidence that a
supernatural power was believed to be manifested in the Church at the date
of their composition, wholly different from any kind of ordinary current
supernatural belief. Through the Acts of the Apostles, its existence can
be traced up to a still earlier period. Two of these gifts, but two only,
involved a power which we should now designate as essentially miraculous.
This being so, the testimony of St. Paul, involving as it does that of the
entire Church, is express as to the belief of contemporaries that miracles
were actually performed. We can trace this belief up to the first origin
of Christianity. If Jesus was believed to have endowed His followers with
this power, it is impossible to believe that He was not supposed to have
possessed it himself. These Epistles therefore are evidence that the
earliest followers of Jesus believed that He was a worker of miracles. So
far the proof is complete that the ascription of miracles to Jesus and His
original followers was not due to the imagination of subsequent
generations.

The careful perusal of these Epistles can leave only one impression on the
mind of the reader, that he is in the presence of facts of an
unquestionably historical character.





CHAPTER XIX. THE EVIDENCE FURNISHED BY THE EPISTLES TO THE FACTS OF OUR
LORD’S LIFE, AND TO THE TRUTH OF THE RESURRECTION.


I have proved in the last chapter that St. Paul and those to whom he wrote
his Epistles firmly believed that a number of supernatural manifestations
were displaying themselves in the Church under their immediate
observation, and that their presence can be traced up to a much earlier
date. I have also shown that St. Paul asserts in the most positive
language that he was persuaded that he wrought miracles during the whole
course of his mission. It is therefore in the highest degree probable that
the servant was convinced that he did by the divine power of his Master
that which he believed that his Master had accomplished before him; in
other words, that he was a worker of miracles. But as it has been asserted
that St. Paul knew only of a divine, and scarcely anything of a human
Jesus, that is to say, that he was to a great extent ignorant of the
events of our Lord’s life, I must inquire what light the Epistles throw on
this subject; for if it can be shown that St. Paul allowed himself to be
ignorant of the human life of Jesus, it lowers the value of his testimony
to the fact of the Resurrection.

The ground of this affirmation is that the direct references to the events
of our Lord’s life are few, and that he chiefly dwells on the glorified
aspect of it after His Resurrection. The only passage, as far as I am
aware, which has been adduced as proving this strange position is the
following:—“He died for all, that they which live should not henceforth
live unto themselves, but unto him which died for them and rose again.
Wherefore, henceforth know we no man after the flesh; yea, though we have
known Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we him no more.
Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are
passed away; behold all things are become new.” 2 Cor. v. 15‐17. The
utmost that this passage can be made to prove is, that the belief in the
Resurrection of Christ had thrown an entirely new aspect over His human
life. The persons who had witnessed it had not seen its true significance.
This is what the Synoptic Gospels plainly affirm to have been the case
even with the Apostles during His public ministry. They had witnessed the
events, but they had failed to penetrate into their inner life. This is
what the Apostle means by “knowing Christ after the flesh,” _i.e._
according to the uniform meaning of that expression in the New Testament,
the knowing the events of His life merely externally, as so many bare
objective facts devoid of spiritual significance. This he affirms would be
the mode in which neither he nor the Church would in future contemplate
this subject. The very words which he uses imply that he and others had
had this knowledge of Jesus. But such a knowledge would have been
impossible without an intimate acquaintance with the events of His human
life. What he affirms is, that he will contemplate them in future in their
moral and religions aspect.

The affirmation that St. Paul was not thoroughly acquainted with the
details of our Lord’s ministry, and that after his conversion he was
simply absorbed in the contemplation of a divine Christ is incredible.
When we are asked to accept a startling proposition, it is necessary that
it should not offend against the first principles of human nature. That a
man like St. Paul did not make accurate inquiries into the facts of his
Master’s life is inconceivable. In his eyes His human was the
manifestation of His divine life. Did not the persecutor Saul thoroughly
inform himself respecting the life and actions of Him whose divine mission
he denied, and whom he believed to be an impostor? Was not this the
obvious course to take, in order to enable him to expose imposition, and
to destroy the Church? On the other hand, the converted Paul was animated
by a more intense love for Jesus than one man ever felt for another. Is it
conceivable that such love did not impel him to treasure up in his bosom
every reminiscence which fell within his reach, and to inquire with the
most profound interest into the life and actions of him who was become the
object of his adoration? Is it conceivable that the man who was
incessantly inquiring into the condition of his converts, made no inquiry
about the life and actions of his Master?

The position of St. Paul, the ardour of his temperament, the fierceness of
his opposition, and the intense self‐sacrifice with which he afterwards
consecrated himself to Jesus Christ, falling into communication as he must
with persons who had witnessed His earthly ministry, are sufficient proof
that the Apostle had used every available means of becoming acquainted
with the facts of His life. But in the Epistles themselves, although owing
to the circumstances which called them forth, they contain few direct
references to it, the indirect allusions are quite sufficient to prove
that St. Paul and those whom he addressed, were in possession of a number
of facts respecting their Master’s life which formed the subject of a
common Christology. I am quite ready to admit that when the Apostle wrote,
none of our present Gospels were in existence. The converts had to receive
their instruction orally, or from short written memoranda. But instruction
of some kind they must have had. Without it, converts from Paganism could
have known nothing about Him to whom in the act of joining the Church they
professed allegiance; Jewish converts living in Gentile cities, but
little. As Christianity was not a mere body of dogmas, like a philosophy,
but consisted in direct adhesion to a person, it is clear that it could
not be propagated at all without at the same time communicating
information respecting His history. The early missionaries announced that
Jesus was the Christ. Such an announcement would have been meaningless
unless they had given an account of who Jesus was, what He had done to
claim the homage of those addressed, and what was the nature of His
office. These considerations establish the fact that an oral account of
His life must have been handed down in the Church prior to the publication
of written Gospels, sufficiently definite to constitute the Christianity
of the converts. The intimations contained in the Epistles prove that such
was the fact.

First let us consider St. Paul’s own positive assertions. The most
important is in 1 Cor. xv. “Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you
(γνωρίζω, I remind you of, or refresh your memories respecting) the Gospel
(τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) which I preached unto you, which also ye have received,
and wherein ye stand; by which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory
what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. For I delivered
unto you first of all (ἐν πρώτοις, as matter of prime importance) that
which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the
Scriptures; and that He was buried, and that He rose again the third day
according to the Scriptures.”

Let it be observed that the subject which the Apostle was here discussing
with certain members of this Church—the possibility of a resurrection of
the dead—led him to refer to the first principles of Christianity as he
had taught them. They denied the truth of a material resurrection. St.
Paul draws their attention to the fact that Christianity as taught by him
consisted of a body of facts. The following points are clearly deducible
from the passage before us.

1. The εὐαγγέλλιον, or message of good news, which the Apostle had
announced at his first preaching at Corinth, consisted of a body of facts
as distinct from mere doctrinal teachings; and that whatever doctrines he
taught were built on them as a foundation.

2. Among the facts of prime importance which he announced, was the death,
burial, and resurrection of Christ.

3. He states that in his preaching there were matters of prime importance,
of which Christ’s death and resurrection was one. It follows therefore
that there were other matters of prime importance, which his present
argument did not require him to notice. This is obvious from the nature of
the case: the announcement of Christ’s death and resurrection would have
been scarcely intelligible without the addition of a great many other
facts to give it meaning. But further, the assertion that there were facts
of prime importance, implies that there were also points of secondary
importance, which he must have announced likewise, or in other words, that
the Gospel which he proclaimed must have consisted of an account, more or
less full, of the human life of Jesus.

4. This account the Apostle says that he delivered to the Corinthian
Church. The words imply that he committed it in a formal manner to their
keeping, as the ground of their Christian instruction. This he likewise
affirms that he had no less formally received.

5. As his statement respecting the Resurrection is somewhat minute, the
inference is, that the other facts of prime importance were communicated
with equal detail. It is also fairly presumable that in his oral
communications the Apostle did not give a bare list of the appearances of
Jesus after his Resurrection, but a detailed account of them; and so with
respect to his other facts. This his converts would naturally have
required him to do, if we suppose that they were only animated by common
curiosity. The less important facts would be necessary to connect together
those of primary importance. In short, the Apostle’s narrative must have
been what we may call a brief Gospel.

6. As St. Paul states that one of the facts which he committed to the
Church was that Christ died for our sins, it follows that he must have
given an account of his death more or less resembling those in our present
Gospels.

7. One of the great facts which he delivered to the Church, was that of
the Resurrection of Christ. This is the great miracle of Christianity; the
one to which it is expressly affirmed that the Church owes its being. The
Apostle’s Gospel therefore contained a detailed account of one great
miracle. It is also fairly presumable that among his other facts of
primary or secondary importance were accounts of supernatural occurrences
in the life of Jesus.

8. The Apostle does not leave us without the means of judging respecting
the amount of matter in these narratives of events in the life of Christ
which he committed to the Church. He has given us (in 1 Cor. xi. 23‐25) a
formal account of the institution of our Lord’s Supper, quite as full as
that contained in either of our Gospels. This account he prefaces by the
same words which we have already considered, as denoting the form or mode
in which he received it, and delivered it to the Church: “For I have
received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord
Jesus the same night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had
given thanks He brake it, and said, Take, eat; this is My body which is
broken for you. This do in remembrance of Me. After the same manner also
He took the cup, when He had supped, saying, This cup is the New Testament
in My blood: this do ye as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me.” This
account varies in words, but it is equal in minuteness, and substantially
agrees with those in our present Gospels; although it more nearly
approaches, while it is not precisely identical with that of Luke, who is
asserted in the Acts to have been the companion of the Apostle. Judging
therefore by this example, the historical details which St. Paul committed
to the Church respecting the life of Jesus must have been of considerable
minuteness.

8. Another fact in the life of our Lord is directly referred to in these
letters, His descent from the family of David. “Who was made,” says the
Apostle, “of the seed of David, according to the flesh, and declared to be
the Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness, by the
resurrection from the dead.” These words prove that St. Paul was in
possession of an account of the birth of Jesus, which in this particular
point was in agreement with that in St. Matthew’s and St. Luke’s Gospels,
and that it was known to the members of the Church at Rome, and received
by them as true. He does not positively affirm that the birth was
supernatural; but his language clearly implies it. It would be absurd in
speaking of an ordinary human birth to say that the person born was
descended from his ancestors, “according to the flesh.” The natural
meaning of such an expression is that both the writer and those whom he
was addressing were well acquainted with an account of the supernatural
birth of Jesus, and accepted it as true. So far their accounts and that in
the Gospels agreed in the main issue.

9. One more reference must be added: “Jesus Christ,” says the Apostle,
“was made a minister of the circumcision for the truth of God, to confirm
the promises made unto the fathers; and that the Gentiles might glorify
God for His mercy.” This passage not only proves that the Apostle and
those to whom he wrote were in possession of an account of the
circumcision of Christ, but also that they well knew that His ministry had
been confined to the Jewish people, but with the ultimate purpose of His
being manifested to the Gentiles. In these particulars it exactly
corresponded with the account given in our Gospels.

10. There are also several passages in which the Apostle directly refers
to our Lord’s teaching, and clearly distinguishes it from his own. These
references uniformly agree with that which is attributed to Jesus in the
Synoptic Gospels, and prove that the Apostle and the Church were in
possession of details of it.

Such are the direct references to the life of Jesus in these Epistles. But
there are numerous indirect references which prove that the Apostle and
those to whom he wrote must have been acquainted with accounts of the life
of its Founder, which went into a considerable degree of detail. I shall
give a few instances:

1. His preaching of the Gospel to the Thessalonians is described as a
proclamation that Jesus was the Christ or Messiah. In one of the Epistles
to this Church he speaks of them as having been so powerfully influenced
that in consequence of it “they had turned to God _from idols_ to serve
the living and true God,” and “as having become _followers of him and of
the Lord_.” Among persons thus utterly ignorant of Christianity, as they
were when he first preached to them, it would have been impossible to make
an announcement of this kind, or to set forth the Messianic claims of
Jesus, without laying before them a great many of the details of His human
life. The expression above quoted, implies clearly that he had put his
converts in possession of such an account of the life of Christ as to
enable them to become “followers of the Lord.”

2. These Epistles contain many definite assertions as to the duty of
imitating Christ. “Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ;” “As many as have been
baptized into Christ have put on Christ;” “Let every one of us please his
brother for his good unto edification, for even so Christ pleased not
himself;” “The God of patience and consolation grant you to be like minded
one toward another, according to Christ Jesus;” “I beseech you by the
meekness and gentleness of Christ;” “Ye have not so learned Christ;” “Be
ye followers of me, as I am of Christ.” Many other similar expressions
might be cited, but these are sufficient.

First: I observe that the exhortation to put on the character of another
is meaningless, unless the persons so exhorted were known to have been
thoroughly acquainted with the life and actions of him whom they are urged
to imitate. The same observation is true when we are deliberately
recommended to make another person our example. Again, the exhortation to
lay ourselves out in efforts to please others for their good to
edification, on the ground that Christ pleased not himself, would be
without meaning, unless the writer felt assured that those whom he
addressed were in possession of facts in the life of Christ, which
exhibited Him in the character of a sacrificer of self. So again, the
exhortation to patience, after the example of Christ, is founded on the
assumption that those whom the Apostle was addressing were acquainted with
details which exhibited him as a model of patience. The same remark is
true with respect to the entreaty addressed to the Corinthians by the
meekness and gentleness of Christ. They must have been acquainted with
actions of His which exhibited Him as supremely meek and gentle. These and
other indirect references form an indisputable proof that the churches to
whom St. Paul wrote must have been in possession of a very considerable
number of details of the human life of Jesus, in which a large portion of
the instruction given to those Churches consisted. This imparts to them a
far higher value than if they had been direct. It is the mode universally
adopted in genuine letters, where the writer, and those to whom he writes,
are freely communicating to each other their inmost thoughts. When one
party is firmly persuaded that the other is well acquainted with a certain
set of events, they never detail them formally, but simply refer to them
in passing allusions. Such allusions are the strongest possible evidence
that the events in question are the common property of the writer and of
those whom he is addressing.

The whole of these Epistles contain a continuous body of references to the
various aspects of our Lord’s divine and human character as it is depicted
in the four Gospels. The references to the former are very numerous. They
contain a Christianity of so advanced a character as to resemble in all
its great features that which we read of in St. John’s Gospel, and which
are only distinguishable from it, if distinguishable at all, by the aid of
minute criticism. I have treated this subject at length in another work in
reference to its evidential value, and therefore need not discuss it here.
I shall only observe that the incidental references in these Epistles to
these subjects form the strongest historical proofs that St. Paul and
those to whom he wrote were in possession of a sufficient number of facts
respecting the life of Jesus to enable them to found on them a definite
Christology; and that there must have been well known in the Churches a
general outline of His human life, which must have been to their members
as recent converts a subject of the profoundest interest. I fully admit
that if Paul and the early Christians, while centering their highest
affections on the glorified Christ, had been contented to remain in
ignorance of the facts of His human life, the value of their testimony to
the truth of the Resurrection would have been greatly weakened. But the
supposition is not only untrue to human nature, but is contradicted by the
facts of the Epistles, which it is impossible not to admit as documents of
the highest historical value.

I will now proceed to examine the evidence which these Epistles afford to
the truth of the Resurrection. The references which they contain to this
great miracle of Christianity are extremely numerous, occurring in some
form or other in almost every page. Shall I not say that their entire
contents are written on the supposition of its reality? They are of the
most direct as well as of the most incidental character. They make it
clear that the belief in it lay at the foundation of the existence of the
Church; that it was that which was supposed to communicate its moral power
to Christianity, and that it was the source of the new spiritual life of
every individual believer. In the following passage St. Paul distinctly
pledges the truth of Christianity on the reality of the fact: “And if
Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also
vain; yea, and we are found false witnesses of God; because we have
testified of God that he raised up Christ, whom he raised not up, if so be
that the dead rise not, ... and if Christ be not raised, your faith is
vain; ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in
Christ are perished. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are
of all men most miserable.” (1 Cor. xv. 14, etc.) Whatever opinion may be
formed as to the genuineness of the other writings of the New Testament,
they give one consistent testimony that the belief in the Resurrection was
co‐extensive with the Church, and constituted the only ground of its
existence. How could it be otherwise? The Church, as a community, was
founded on the belief of the personal Messiahship of Christ; a dead
Messiah would have been utterly worthless to it. Without a living Messiah
to form its centre the whole superstructure must collapse.

The following are some of the most important points which these letters
prove as matters of fact respecting the Resurrection.

First: That the belief in it was co‐extensive with the entire Church. It
was not the belief of any single party in it, but of the whole community.

This they establish on the most indisputable evidence. The existence of
various parties in the Church in direct opposition to St. Paul proves
beyond the possibility of contradiction that it was the one belief
respecting which there was not the smallest diversity of opinion. If these
parties had not existed, it might have been urged with some degree of
plausibility that the testimony of these letters was inconclusive, because
all the members of the Churches received servilely whatever St. Paul chose
to dictate. But as we have already seen, a powerful party existed in both
the Corinthian and Galatian Churches, who summarily rejected his claim to
apostolic authority, maintaining that the twelve were the only genuine
Apostles. Nevertheless, the Epistles make it clear that they must have
believed in the Resurrection quite as strongly as St. Paul did himself.

Let us suppose for a moment that they doubted it. How is it conceivable
that St. Paul should have addressed to them such letters as those to the
Corinthians, abounding everywhere with both direct and incidental
allusions to it as an acknowledged truth and as the foundation of his
reasonings? Would anyone in his senses have thus exposed himself to
instant denunciation if he had supposed that there was the smallest doubt
respecting its reality in the minds of his opponents? Would they not at
once, if they had entertained it, have made short work with the Apostle
and his reasonings? But the point is almost too clear to need any
argument.

In one of the passages where he is discussing with them the reality of his
apostleship he urges as the foundation of his claim to this office: “Have
not I seen Jesus Christ our Lord?” This reasoning is evidently founded on
the supposition that all the other Apostles professed to have seen Him;
and that none could have a valid claim to the office who had not seen Him.
But Paul could only have seen Christ after the Resurrection; and it was in
virtue of an appointment from the risen Jesus that he claimed to hold the
office. If there had been the smallest doubt in the minds of his opponents
as to the reality of the Resurrection, or if they had not been persuaded
that the Apostles, whose claims they set up against those of St. Paul,
affirmed that they had seen Him also, this would at once have settled the
controversy and covered the Apostle with confusion before the assembled
Church.

But if this reasoning requires any additional confirmation, it is afforded
by the Epistle to the Galatians. The opposition leaders in this Church
were yet more hostile to St. Paul than those at Corinth. His denunciation
of them is very severe. They are described as “false apostles, deceitful
workers,” and subverters of the Gospel. Yet in the very opening words of
his address to this Church in which he thus sharply denounces his
opponents, the Apostle writes: “Paul, an Apostle, not of man nor by man,
but by Jesus Christ, and God the Father _who raised him from the dead_.”
Is it conceivable, I ask, that St. Paul should have used such language,
under such circumstances, in addressing this Church, unless he was
absolutely certain that his opponents accepted the Resurrection of Christ
as a fact? We shall see hereafter that these assertions and allusions of
the Apostle not only prove that the Resurrection was believed in by every
section of the Christian community at the time when he wrote these
letters, but that they enable us to carry up the date of this belief to
the very commencement of Christianity.

Secondly: The Epistle to the Romans sets before us the state of this
belief in a Church which St. Paul had not visited. Of the exact date of
the foundation of this Church we have no record; but the entire contents
of the Epistle prove that it had been in existence for many years before
the Apostle addressed to them this letter. The general impression produced
by it is that this was one of the most important Christian communities
then in existence. We learn from it that among its members were persons
attached to the household of Nero. As the intercourse between Rome and
Judæa was very considerable, there can be no doubt that the Church
originated at an early period, either by Christian Jews visiting the
imperial city, or by Roman Jews visiting Judæa and having thus become
converted. At any rate its Christianity must have been derived from a
source entirely independent of St. Paul. The evidence afforded by this
Epistle as to the importance and universal prevalence of the belief in the
Resurrection, and to its early origin is conclusive. The allusions to it
are more numerous than in any other of St. Paul’s Epistles. Most of them
are of an entirely incidental character, and their general nature proves
beyond the possibility of question that both the writer and those to whom
he wrote must have viewed the fact as the fundamental groundwork of
Christianity. The reference to a few passages will render this point
indubitable.

An allusion of a most incidental character as forming the ground of the
writer’s apostleship occurs in the very opening words of the Epistle: “And
declared to be the Son of God with power, according to the Spirit of
holiness, _by the resurrection from the dead_; by whom we have _received
grace and apostleship_ for obedience to the faith among all nations for
his name.” It is inconceivable that St. Paul should have thus addressed a
body of strangers, at the very commencement of his letter, unless he had
been certain that they accepted this belief as an unquestionable fact.

Besides several references in the intermediate chapters, there are three
allusions to it in the sixth chapter of the most incidental character, in
which the belief in the Resurrection is directly connected with baptism,
and affirmed to lie at the very foundation of Christianity, and to be the
divine power exhibited in the renewed Christian life. “Know ye not that as
many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ, were baptized into his
death? Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death, that like
as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even we
also should walk in newness of life. For if we have been planted together
in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his
resurrection: knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that
the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve
sin. For he that is dead is freed from sin. Now if we be dead with Christ,
we believe we shall also live with him: knowing that Christ being raised
from the dead dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him. For in
that He died, He died unto sin once; but in that He liveth, He liveth unto
God. Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but
alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

It is impossible to read this passage without feeling that it is
conclusive of the question before us: the whole community to whom it was
addressed must have accepted the Resurrection as a fact, and that
acceptance must have been contemporary with the very commencement of their
Christianity. A portion of the baptismal rite to which they had all
submitted was viewed by them as symbolical of their Master’s death: the
other portion, of His Resurrection. His death and resurrection were
considered by them as setting forth their cessation from their old habits,
principles and character, in which they had lived as Jews or Pagans; and
their entrance into that new moral life into which they were brought by
Christianity. The Apostle directly appeals to the recollection of those
whom he is addressing, to say whether it was not a certain fact that their
entire Christianity, including all its moral influence, centered in this
truth. His words therefore carry this belief up to the first origin of
this Church. They go, moreover, a step further, and involve the belief and
testimony of those by whom its first members had been converted.

But further: the Apostle, throughout this chapter, speaks of the
Resurrection of Christ as being the great moral and spiritual power of
Christianity. The members of the Church had entered on a new moral and
religious life. They had died to their former sinful habits and practices.
They were living to God, and were reaping the fruits of holiness instead
of receiving the wages of sin. That these facts were true, the Apostle
appeals to their consciousness to witness. Was this a fact or was it not?
It would have been impossible for St. Paul to write in this manner unless
he had been assured that those to whom he wrote thought so. This power had
for its centre the belief in the Resurrection of Christ. It was caused by
their connection with Him as a living person to whom all their regards
were due.

It is impossible to have stronger historical evidence that this belief was
esteemed by the Church to be fundamental to Christianity when this letter
was written. I shall therefore only quote two more passages as showing the
purely incidental character of the allusions:—

“Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that
justifieth; who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather,
that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh
intercession for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?” (Rom.
viii. 38, &c.) Again: “He that regardeth the day regardeth it unto the
Lord; and he that regardeth not the day, to the Lord he doth not regard
it. He that eateth, eateth to the Lord, for he giveth God thanks; and he
that eateth not, to the Lord he eateth not, and giveth God thanks. For
none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For whether we
live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord....
For to this end Christ both died and rose, and revived, that He might be
Lord both of the dead and living.” It is impossible that any words could
make it clearer than these do that the belief in the Resurrection formed
the centre of the daily life of Christians at the time when the Apostle
was writing. The Christian was a man who was consecrated to the service of
Christ as to a living person, who had a right to his supreme regard.

It is therefore established beyond the possibility of a doubt that the
belief in the Resurrection of Christ was universal in the Church when St.
Paul wrote these letters, _i.e._ within less than thirty years after the
event. At this period of time the traditional recollection of it,
according to the principles laid down by Sir G. C. Lewis, would have
formed the best material for history. All the other writings of the New
Testament, whatever be their supposed date, give a uniform testimony in
complete agreement with this. One of them demands a special notice—the
book of Revelation.

Unbelievers do not dispute that this is a contemporaneous document, the
work of the Apostle John, and freely use it to support their own theories
as to the intensity of the opposition between the Jewish Apostles and St.
Paul. I am quite sensible that a book which is professedly an apocalypse
must be used with caution as an historical document, or we may fall into
numerous errors in drawing inferences from obscure allusions contained in
visions. But if there is one point more than another which this book makes
clear, it is the strength of the author’s belief in the Resurrection of
Jesus. The frequent allusions to it, and to Jesus as being the Christ, put
this beyond all dispute. We have here the testimony of a book which
unbelievers concur in considering to have been composed not later than a
year after the death of Nero, and allow it to be the one solitary writing
in the New Testament composed by one of the twelve Apostles.

According to the opinions of the opponents of the historical character of
the Gospels, St. John was the most Judaizing of the original apostles of
Christ. Of this they think that they discern very distinct traces in the
book of Revelation. His opposition to St. Paul was in their opinion
extreme; and they think that he is actually referred to in the second and
third chapters as teaching the Jewish Christians to apostatize. To discuss
the truth or falsehood of these opinions can form no portion of the
present work; but it is plain that in either case we cannot have a more
unexceptionable witness. If these views are correct, the Apostle may be
considered as the spokesman of the Jewish Christians. At any rate he was
one of the original followers of Jesus. Now there is no book in the New
Testament which testifies more strongly to the completeness of the belief
in the Resurrection of Christ, and of His continued Messianic life in the
heavenly world. The writer had conversed with Him before His crucifixion.
The vision is to a considerable extent a description of His resurrection
life.

This testimony alone carries with it the belief of the primitive Church at
Jerusalem, and proves that on this point at least they and St. Paul were
at one. This his Epistles place beyond the possibility of question. The
parties in opposition were beyond all doubt Judaizing Christians.
According to those against whom I am reasoning, they represented the
opinions and claimed to act under the authority of St. James and the
Church at Jerusalem. But as these Judaizing teachers were at one with Paul
about the fact of the Resurrection, it follows that the leaders of that
Church concurred with him in opinion also. If their opposition was as
strenuous as has been attested, if there had been any difference between
St. Paul and the twelve on so fundamental a point, it is impossible that
they could have avoided adducing it to the Apostle’s prejudice.

The strength of St. Paul’s assurance, that there was no diversity of
opinion in the Church respecting this fact is remarkably illustrated by a
passage in 1 Cor. xv. Had it not been so, his reasoning would have been
simply absurd. There were persons in that Church who denied the fact of a
future Resurrection. Yet they must have admitted the truth of the
Resurrection of Christ. This is clear from the following words:—“If there
be no resurrection of the dead, then is Christ not risen.” The reply to
this argument is so obvious that it could not have escaped the dullest
apprehension; if those who denied the reality of a future resurrection of
the dead had entertained the smallest doubt as to the Resurrection of
Christ, they would have had nothing to do but to affirm that the fact was
doubtful, and the whole argument would fall to pieces. On the contrary,
however, St. Paul thought that they were so fully persuaded of the truth
of Christ’s Resurrection, that he could safely use the fact to prove the
possibility of that future resurrection which they denied. It is clear,
that unless the belief was of the firmest character, no logical position
could be more dangerous than this line of argument.

The Epistle to the Romans establishes the same conclusion. The belief of
this Church in the Resurrection as the fundamental fact of Christianity
can be traced up, as I have already observed, not only to the commencement
of their own Christianity, which was palpably of many years’ standing, but
even to the birth of Christianity itself. Of this, one brief incidental
allusion offers decisive proof: “Salute,” says St. Paul, “Andronicus and
Junia, my kinsmen, and my fellow‐prisoners, who were of note among the
Apostles, who were also in Christ before me.”

This passage makes the following points clear. Andronicus and Junia were
converted to Christianity before St. Paul, _i.e._ within less than ten
years from the date of the Crucifixion. They must therefore have been
members of the Jerusalem Church. They were of note among the Apostles.
This expression cannot mean less than that they were highly esteemed by
the original twelve, and by the leaders of the Church at Jerusalem. Yet
the Apostle wrote this Epistle in the fullest confidence that they would
accept his Christology, including his account of the Resurrection. This
proves that both they and the Church at Jerusalem, including all its chief
leaders, accepted the Resurrection as a fact within a very short interval
after its supposed date. But it does more: it proves that its importance
as vital to Christianity was fully recognized; or, in other words, it
proves that the belief must have been contemporaneous with the origin of
the Church.

Equally decisive is the proof afforded by the Epistle to the Galatians. It
mentions two visits which the writer made to Jerusalem. One in which he
paid Peter a visit of fifteen days, during which time he communicated with
James. On the second occasion he went up to Jerusalem as a member of an
embassy from the Church at Antioch, for the purpose of settling points
under dispute between the Jewish and Gentile converts. On this occasion he
tells us that he had a formal interview with the leaders of the Jewish
Church, of which Peter, James, and John were esteemed the pillars. He
expressly informs us that he communicated to them the leading points of
the Gospel which he preached among the Gentiles; and that he received from
them the right hand of fellowship, which can only mean that they
sanctioned his views and fundamental principles. It is true that the
Resurrection is not expressly mentioned as one of these; but it is
impossible that the statement that he communicated his Gospel to them can
be true, if this was not one of the facts which he imparted to them.

It is a very important fact, and worthy of special notice, that in the
account given in the Epistle to the Corinthians of the appearances of
Jesus after His Resurrection, St. Paul expressly affirms that the risen
Jesus was seen by Peter and by James; the latter appearance being
mentioned nowhere else: and the former only referred to in the exclamation
which greeted Cleopas and his companion on their return from Emmaus. It
seems, therefore, morally certain that St. Paul had heard an account of
these two appearances from the Apostles in question. If so, it brings us
directly into contact with two of the most important of the apostolic
body, who must have believed that they had actually seen him. Respecting
the belief of St. John, the third pillar of the Church at Jerusalem, the
testimony of the book of Revelation leaves no room for doubt. These
writings enable us to affirm that three of the original Apostles believed
that they had seen Jesus, risen from the dead. It is evident, therefore,
that this brings us into the presence of historical evidence of the first
order, quite independently of the affirmations of the Gospels.

If the first Epistle of St. Peter is genuine (and there is nothing but
surmises and _à priori_ assumptions about the opposition of his views to
those of St. Paul on which the doubts respecting its genuineness are
based) then we have the affirmation of the fulness of his belief in the
Resurrection under his own hand. Besides the strong external testimony
that it was written by St. Peter, there is one proof of its genuineness
which is almost conclusive, and to which sufficient weight has not been
attached by either the defenders or the opponents of Christianity. It is
hardly possible to read this Epistle carefully without feeling that the
writer of it is the same man as the Peter of the Gospels; the one being
separated from the other by a considerable interval of time; the Peter of
the Epistle being in fact a mellowed form of the Peter of the Gospels. But
this has not only a direct bearing on the evidence of the Resurrection,
but also a most important one, which I shall notice hereafter, on the
historical character of the Gospels themselves.

One more writing of the New Testament must be alluded to, because whoever
was its author it belongs to a school of thought distinct from the other
writings of the New Testament. I need hardly say that I allude to the
Epistle to the Hebrews. The testimony of this writing to the fact that the
belief in the Resurrection of Jesus was fundamental to Christianity is no
less decisive; it not only proves what were the individual opinions of the
writer, but of the school of Christian thought for whom it was intended.
It affords abundant proof that the writer knew that their opinions on the
subject were entirely in accordance with his own.

I have now shown on the strongest historical evidence that it is
impossible that the belief in the Resurrection can have grown up slowly
and only succeeded in gradually establishing itself. On the contrary, I
have proved that it was coeval with the birth of the Church, and that it
formed the one sole ground of its existence. I have also proved that the
belief in it was universal, and that it was accepted by the entire
Christian community without distinction of party; and that their belief
can be traced up as the sole cause of the renewed life of the Church after
the crucifixion. I shall consider in the following chapter the bearing of
these facts on the truth of the Resurrection, and show that the facts
before us are inconsistent with any other supposition but that of its
objective occurrence, and that it is impossible to account for it by any
theory which endeavours to explain it on the supposition that the belief
originated in the credulity and enthusiasm of the followers of Jesus.





CHAPTER XX. THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS CHRIST AN HISTORICAL FACT.


I have proved in the preceding chapter, on the testimony of the highest
order of historical evidence:—

1. That the belief in the Resurrection of Jesus was universal in the
Church when St. Paul wrote these Epistles.

2. That this belief was held by every section in the Church, by the
strongest opponents no less than by the admiring friends of St. Paul.

3. That the Churches holding this belief were separated from each other by
a wide geographical area, and consisted of a great diversity of character,
thereby affording the greatest obstacle to the spreading of an absurd
story.

4. That these Churches did not merely accept the Resurrection as a bare
fact, but that they considered that their existence as communities was
based on its truth.

5. That they viewed the fact of the Resurrection not only as the great
bond of union, but as the source of the moral power of the Christianity
which they professed, and fully believed that their acceptance of it had
exercised a mighty influence in turning them from the low and debasing
pursuits of their previous life.

6. That their belief in the Resurrection was closely bound up with all the
pursuits of their daily life.

7. That these Epistles not only afford indisputable proof that this state
of things existed in the Churches within less than twenty‐eight years
after the crucifixion, but they no less clearly show that the earliest
Christian communities, such as the Churches of Antioch and Jerusalem,
entertained similar beliefs.

8. That it is an unquestionable historical fact that the belief in the
Resurrection was co‐eval with the restored life of the Church which had
been extinguished by the crucifixion.

9. That the three pillar Apostles of the Church of Jerusalem believed that
they had seen Jesus after His Resurrection, and that the entire body
entertained a similar opinion.

10. That as late as A.D. 57 or 58 more than 250 persons were still living
who believed that they had seen Jesus after His Resurrection; and that
originally more than five hundred persons entertained a similar
persuasion.

Such are plain facts of history. The question now before us is, how are
they to be accounted for? Only three possible alternatives present
themselves. Either:

Some of the followers of Jesus must have fancied that they saw Him risen
from the dead, and have communicated this delusion to the rest. Or:

That He did not actually die, when He was supposed to have done so; and
that His subsequent appearance, when partially recovered, was mistaken for
a resurrection. Or:

That He rose from the dead in veritable reality, and was seen by His
followers, and conversed with them.

I omit another possible supposition, that the belief in the Resurrection
was due to a deliberate fraud, because no one capable of appreciating
moral or historical evidence ventures to affirm it. The idea that the
greatest and purest of human institutions can owe its origin to a
deliberate imposture is a libel on human nature.

Around one or other of these alternatives the contest lies. It is useless
to attempt to becloud the question with a number of barren and indefinite
generalities, such as myths and legends, vague charges of enthusiasm,
fanaticism, and credulity, or general assertions of developments brought
about by a succession of compromises between hostile parties. We are here
in the presence of stern historical facts, which require a clear and
definite solution. The Christian Church exists as a fact. We can trace it
up to its first origin. It asserts that its existence is due to the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ, and to nothing else. If unbelievers affirm
that the fact is false, they are bound to offer some theory which is true
to human nature, and lies within the possibilities of things, to show us
how this belief originated, and how it was able to consolidate the life of
this new community.

The idea that the greatest moral power which has ever appeared among
mankind has had no other origin than a baseless delusion is supremely
melancholy. That Christianity has been such a moral power will be disputed
by few; and a large number of unbelievers will allow that notwithstanding
the faults which they attribute to it, nothing has equally contributed to
the civilization and elevation of the race. Yet if it be a delusion, it
must be recognised as such, and we must submit to our hard fate. Still it
is a terrible proposition to realize, that the noblest of human
institutions has originated in a lie, even if it be one which was not
deliberately intended as such.

It is evident that however great may be the general credulity of mankind,
it is a very difficult matter to get any number of men to accept as a fact
the assertion that a person who has actually died has returned again to
bodily life. Such a belief will only be effected by the production of
evidence which, if not true, is at all events in the highest degree
plausible. This, as I have already observed, is fully established by the
history of the past, for however numerous the narratives of marvellous
occurrences may be, whether in histories or fictions, it is next to
impossible to find reports of beliefs in the actual occurrence of a
resurrection, or even in the possibility of one prior to that of Jesus
Christ. Now St. Paul’s conversion cannot be dated later than within ten
years of the crucifixion; most probably it was earlier. It is clear that,
prior to his conversion, communities of Jewish Christians must have
existed in considerable numbers—in such numbers, in fact, as to raise his
wrath and indignation to the highest point. The spirit of persecution is
aroused by a sense of danger. It is clear, therefore, from the fact of the
persecution, that the persons in power saw danger from the progress of the
new sect, and that its numbers most have been considerable. From St.
Paul’s testimony, it is also certain that Christianity had spread at least
to one place beyond Judæa. The inference, therefore, seems irresistible
that in the period which elapsed between the crucifixion and St. Paul’s
conversion, the number of the believers in the Resurrection of Jesus had
increased to several thousands. Those, therefore, against whom I am
reasoning, cannot help admitting that an interval of eight or ten years is
a very short one for the conversion of such a large number of persons to
the belief that a man who had been publicly executed, in the very city in
which many of them lived, had been restored to life.

It is impossible that this belief could have been entertained by only a
few solitary individuals who treasured it up secretly in their bosoms. On
the contrary, the conditions of the case prove that it must have spread
rapidly. It was not sufficient for the creation of the Church that a few
solitary enthusiasts should believe that their Master was risen from the
dead, but it was necessary that the Society, which Jesus had formed in his
life‐time, should be immediately reorganized on the basis of this belief.
The belief in the Messiahship of Jesus constituted the original bond of
union. A dead Messiah was, in the eyes of a Jew, an absurdity; still more
so one who had been publicly crucified. With the death of Jesus,
therefore, the bond of union among His followers must have been severed.
Unless the Church was to perish in His grave, it was absolutely necessary
that it should be re‐constructed on the basis of His renewed life. The
slowness with which any large number of even credulous people will accept
the fact of a resurrection from the dead, must have formed an obstacle,
the force of which it is impossible to over‐estimate. Yet the work was
done, and, within a period of seven or eight years, the belief had spread
so widely that its adherents could be numbered by thousands. The truth of
the Resurrection, founded on the direct testimony of a considerable number
of persons who had had sufficient opportunity of testing it by the
evidence of their senses, would fully account for the rapid growth of the
belief. If, however, it originated in the brain of one or two crazed
fanatics, if the belief of so prodigious an event could propagate itself
at all, a considerable interval of time was absolutely necessary for its
doing so. The memory of the Crucifixion was fresh and recent. What would
have been the natural effect of announcing the fact of His Resurrection?
Incredulity! What has become of His body? Why does He not appear to His
former friends? The strangeness of the event must have prompted even the
most credulous to make some inquiry about the matter, and the inquiry must
have dissipated the delusion. Such a belief could only readily propagate
itself after recent memories had grown dim, and a long interval of time
had elapsed, sufficient for the Founder of Christianity to become
surrounded with a halo of imaginary glory.

Let us now consider the position in which the followers of Jesus must have
found themselves on the night of the Crucifixion, and during the following
days. Their hopes had been based on Him as the Messiah, who was to reign
in the kingdom promised by the prophets; and they expected important
places in that kingdom as the reward of their fidelity. These hopes must
have been annihilated. The Messiah whom they expected to reign had
perished at the hands of His enemies. What was to be hoped for more? Many
could not help thinking that he had been a self‐deceiver, if not an
impostor. Was there any ground for hoping that He could be raised from the
dead? Many of the prophets of the ancient Church had perished by the
authority of former governments, or by the violence of the mob. But God
had never interfered to vindicate the cause of one of them by raising him
from the dead. The utmost that He had done was to raise up some new
prophet to take his place. But this man was more than a prophet—he was the
Messiah. Did not all the old prophets promise Him a kingdom and a glory
and a mighty triumph? Yet He had been cut off by His enemies, instead of
triumphing over them; and His dead body was silent in the grave. Any hint
that the Gospels allege Jesus to have given His followers of His own
Resurrection is, according to the theory of those with whom I am
reasoning, a late invention. On the days, therefore, which followed the
Crucifixion, the Church must have presented the stillness of death, broken
only by a few utterances of loving despair.

But the Church did not perish; it set itself to the work of
reconstruction. It expanded and grew. Within the space of eight years
after the Crucifixion, the believers in the Resurrection could be numbered
by thousands. This is an indisputable fact. Again it expanded and grew,
and it never ceased to grow until in less than three hundred years after
the public execution of its Founder by the authority of the Roman
government, one of its professed adherents mounted the imperial throne,
and found its strength sufficient to enable him to make it one of the
institutions of the State. These facts are without a parallel in history.
How are they to be accounted for? The followers of Jesus affirmed that
their Master rose from the dead; and that He thus resumed His place as the
Messiah of His Church. Unbelievers, in the face of the evidence before us,
cannot deny that the great body of His followers must have believed that
He had done so within the short interval of a few months after His public
execution. Our documents on this point are distinct and definite. They
affirm that He was not only seen but handled by many of His disciples
after His Resurrection, that He ate with them, and that they had
interviews with Him individually and collectively. I must now examine the
alternative positions; and first, that His supposed appearances were
delusions of the imagination.

The loose and general affirmation has been made that the followers of
Jesus were so enthusiastically attached to Him that the idea of His death
was simply unbearable, and that they attempted to get rid of the fact by
supposing that He had risen from the dead.

I reply first: that all such general statements are worthless. We have
specific facts before us; and these can only be accounted for by facts
which are equally definite, and not mere fancies. The assertion before me
is not only a bare supposition without one atom of evidence to rest upon,
but it contradicts all the known facts of the case. So far is it from
having been the case that the disciples were in such a state of
enthusiastic exultation, that our own documents inform us that they had
fallen into the lowest state of despondency.

But further: when a theory is propounded to account for an historical
fact, the possibility of the supposition must be supported by some
analogous cases in the history of man, more or less resembling it. All
theories which are devoid of this support are worthless as history. Let
those, therefore, who would urge this on our acceptance as an account of
the origin of the greatest event in history, show that something like it
has occurred in the records of the past. Let them show us one instance of
a body of men whose enthusiasm for their leader was so great that, when he
had been put to death by the authority of the government of the country,
they got over this by fancying that he had been raised from the dead, and
then took to persuading others of its truth. The enthusiasm of followers
for their leaders has urged them to form plots, and even to make attempts
to rescue them from the hands of their enemies. Such enthusiasm, however,
is not even hinted at in the case of the disciples of Christ. No whisper
of tradition has reached us that any of them formed a plot, or made a
solitary attempt to rescue their Master. Are we then to believe that they
imagined a resurrection to repair the damage of His Crucifixion? Such
imaginative conceits would never have made a single convert to their
story. They left their Master to perish in His agony, and when He had
expired under the hands of His executioners, restored Him to an ideal life
by imagining that He was risen from the dead. Such fictions may be safely
dismissed without further notice.

Secondly: Let us suppose that some one of His disciples thought that he
actually saw Him, and in the height of his enthusiasm converted a fancy
into a fact; and persuaded the other disciples that He was risen from the
dead: that these too, in turn, were wrought up into so high a state of
enthusiasm that they likewise fancied that they saw Him: thus the delusion
spread. I reply:—

First: As I have already observed, we are entitled to demand that some
analogous case should be adduced before we can be rationally asked to
accept such theories as to the solution of an unquestionable historical
fact. Surely, if such are the workings of human nature under influences so
general as enthusiasm and credulity, some similar occurrence must be no
uncommon event in history. Let one therefore be adduced.

Secondly: Nothing is easier to affirm than that some credulous and
enthusiastic follower of Jesus mistook a fancy of his imagination for a
fact, thought that he had seen Him alive, and communicated his enthusiasm
to the rest. Whatever may be said as to the possibility in fits of
enthusiasm of a few half‐crazy fanatics mistaking fancies for facts, it is
clear that to communicate this enthusiasm to others is a very difficult
undertaking, especially when they are in a depressed state of mind. As I
have already shown, it is in the highest degree difficult, if not
impossible, to persuade even very credulous persons of the occurrence of
an actual resurrection, as all history and fiction prior to the Advent
testify. A case of a person who professed to have seen, touched,
conversed, and eaten with one who was raised from the dead is not on
record. The belief in ghost stories and apparitions of the departed is to
be met with at every turn. Sorcery professed to be able to bring departed
spirits from the under‐world, but it never attempted to restore to life a
body which once was dead.

Between these two classes of facts the distinction is most important. The
enthusiasm or credulity which easily creates the one belief, refuses to
accept the other. What we have to account for in this case is, not that
some imaginative follower thought that he had seen the spirit of the
crucified Jesus, come from the under‐world to make a communication to his
followers, and that the other disciples credulously accepted the report:
but that the appearance was that of his body restored to the functions of
animal life—in one word, a _Resurrection_, able to repair the damage which
had been occasioned by his Crucifixion.

But for the purpose of arguing the question we must suppose that some one
of the enthusiastic followers of Jesus fancied that he saw Him after His
death, and mistook that fancy for a fact. I own that it is very difficult
even to assume the existence of enthusiasm in the present instance,
because all the known facts as well as the conditions of the case prove
that whatever enthusiasm had once existed, it was at a very low ebb on the
morning of the supposed Resurrection. Still, however, the assumption must
be made, or argument will be impossible. As one enthusiast will be as good
as another, let us assume that our supposed enthusiast was Mary Magdalene,
who went early to the sepulchre, found the stone gone, saw the gardener in
the dim light, mistook him for Jesus, and went and told her friends that
she had seen Him risen from the dead: or to put the case more simply, that
her excited brain created some spectral illusion; and that under its
influence she thought she saw Him, and proceeded to convey the report to
her friends.

It at once strikes us as most unaccountable that, enthusiastic as she must
have been, she did not do something to assure herself of the reality of
the bodily presence of her Master. It was hard even for an enthusiast to
believe that it was He. If she had spoken, and it was the gardener, she
would have been at once cured of her delusion. If she had attempted to
embrace Him and it had been a phantom, the same result would have
followed. Surely the intensity of her love, however credulous or fanatical
she might be, would not have allowed her to leave the spot without some
suitable demonstration. Equally incredible is it that she should have left
Him, without inquiring whither He intended to betake Himself, or obtaining
the promise of some future meeting at which His disconcerted friends might
see Him. However enthusiastic she may have been, it is simply untrue to
human nature, that she should have thought that her much loved Master had
appeared to her in bodily reality, and that she should neither have spoken
to Him, touched Him, nor endeavoured to ascertain the place of His
proposed retreat, nor what His intentions were about the future. If she
had done any of these things, it would have dissipated her delusions.

Let us suppose, however, that all these difficulties do not exist, and
that she is gone to publish among the friends of Jesus that she had seen
Him risen from the dead. His death had proved to them a stunning blow; but
let us suppose that they were still eagerly desirous of the occurrence of
something which might renew their old faith in their Master’s Messiahship.
It is clear that nothing short of a belief in His resurrection could have
accomplished this. Yet however desirous they may have been of His return
to life, they were confronted with the stern fact that He had been
publicly executed, and that the credulity of the past had not succeeded in
restoring dead men to life. Their despondency occasioned by the events of
the last three days was extreme. Let us suppose that Mary Magdalene rushes
in with the announcement: “I have seen the Lord,—the tomb is empty,—He is
risen from the dead.” However desirous they might be that the news should
be true, it is evident that such an announcement must have filled the
minds of even the most credulous with astonishment. What! not the
apparition of His departed spirit, but a bodily reality, the very man
himself? Is it possible that none of them suspected that it was the dream
of an enthusiastic woman? Is it conceivable that men or women,
passionately attached to their Master, asked her no questions about the
interview; what He had said to her; where He was to be found? Some replies
to these and kindred questions were inevitable; and unless they were
distinct and satisfactory, the rising enthusiasm must have been checked.
Is it true to human nature that the most enthusiastic credulity could have
accepted these things as facts, or that the dead Jesus could have
straightway assumed His place of Messianic dignity in their minds, if He
had made no appointment where He could meet His friends; or if that
appointment was created by the imagination of the Magdalene, but when
tested by the attempt to see him, it proved a delusion?

But even credulity, when united with profound love and attachment to a
departed friend, must have some farther satisfaction than a fancied sight.
If the disciples, in the height of their enthusiasm, imagined that they
saw Him, they surely would have spoken to Him. Could they have helped
embracing Him on his return to life after His cruel sufferings and
ignominious death? Above all, what about the future? Was He going to teach
again in public? Was He not going to bring confusion on His enemies? Was
He actually going to retire from public view out of their way? And if He
did so, what about His Messianic claims? Who was to head the party for the
future? Could they have no secret interviews with Him? If He henceforth
retired into obscurity, what announcement were His friends to make to His
opponents? The most fanatical enthusiasts must have asked some of these
questions.

Either no answer was returned, and the delusions must have been
immediately dispelled; or the enthusiasm which generated a phantom, and
mistook it for a reality, invented an answer likewise. Any reply which
fell short of a promise to appear for the future at their head, and either
convince or confound His adversaries, must have extinguished their belief
in His Messiahship. They either fancied they saw Him again, or they did
not. If the former was the case, they must have had repeated interviews,
all created by the imagination, at which something definite must have been
supposed to have passed sufficient to establish the belief that He was a
Messiah returned to them from the grave. If His old Messianic character
had ceased, some definite plan must have been propounded of the mode in
which He was going to enter on a new one. If, however, we accept the
alternative that He saw them no more, we shall possibly be told that His
followers accounted for His absence by imagining that He had for a time
been taken up into heaven, whence He was shortly coming again to destroy
His enemies. But in that case it must have been a cruel blow to
enthusiastic love. What! their much loved Master, for whom they had
sacrificed their all, to afford them one mute interview after His
resurrection, immediately to go into heaven, and leave them without a
head, exposed to the assaults of the opponents who had murdered Him?

But let us imagine all these difficulties got over, and that they fancied
that they caught one solitary glimpse of Him, and that He was taken up
into heaven, whence He would come again to revive His sinking cause. Was
He to return in a few days, or months, or years? If the days became
months, and the months years, what was to be done with the Church in the
meantime? Was it to organize itself? If so, on what new basis? Was it to
confront His foes? Was it to make converts; or quietly to await His
return? If the latter, as months and years passed away, the Church must
have simply died of inanition, and we should have heard no more of
Christianity. If the former hypothesis be preferred, then it is plain that
His followers must have determined to start His Messiahship on a new
basis. But what was this? How was it to be propounded to the world? How
were His other disciples to be persuaded to accept it? Instead of an
earthly, the Church for the future must be headed by a heavenly Messiah,
who was coming at some future day to take vengeance on His foes. Such a
change of tactics must have been resolved upon, and that speedily; the
whole plan must have been conceived and executed by a few credulous
enthusiasts, or the belief in the Messiahship of Jesus must have been
extinguished in His grave.

But further; the necessity of converting the other disciples to this
belief was most urgent; for until this could be done, the society was
dissolving into its individual elements. How was it to be accomplished? It
is easy to say that these enthusiasts communicated their enthusiasm to the
rest. But this little sentence conceals behind it whole mountains of
difficulty. Every one to which I have already alluded, must have had to be
surmounted in each individual case. There must have been many other
disciples who dearly loved their Master. What must have been their
feelings on hearing that He had appeared to only four or five of them, and
had gone up into heaven? What! He, whom we loved, who dearly loved us,
risen from the dead, and gone to heaven without affording us the
consolation of a parting interview? Such a thought was enough to chill all
ordinary enthusiasm. Was His mother one of those who fancied they saw Him
come again from the grave? If she was, could she have been mistaken? If
she did not see Him, what must have been her feelings at the thought that
He had left the world, without allowing her to behold Him? What would have
been the feelings of the women, whose beneficence had contributed to His
support, or of His intimate friends among the Apostles? Surely all these
would have thought it more certain that their companions’ report
originated in a heated imagination, than that Jesus should have acted
thus.

But the idea that a few fanatics only fancied that they saw Jesus alive
after His Crucifixion is negatived by an historical fact distinctly
affirmed by St. Paul in the face of his opponents in the Corinthian
Church. Having mentioned His appearance to Peter and the twelve, St. Paul
asserts: “After that, He was seen of above five hundred brethren at once,
of whom the greater part remain unto this present, but some are fallen
asleep.”

Here then we are in possession of direct contemporaneous testimony. This
assertion is boldly made in the face of the powerful party who denied St.
Paul’s apostleship. It is clear that if they had not believed in the truth
of his assertion, they would not have lost such an opportunity of throwing
discredit upon him by convicting him of falsehood. The Apostle affirms in
the presence of his adversaries that there were then living more than 250
persons who believed that they had seen Jesus Christ after He had risen
from the dead; and not only so, but that upwards of 500 persons had seen
Him on one and the same occasion. If this assertion was false, nothing was
easier than for the opponents of the Apostle to refute it.

On the supposition, therefore, that the belief in the Resurrection
originated in a delusion, it must have been one on a prodigiously large
scale. Unless St. Paul, and the opposing section of the Corinthian Church,
who must have represented the opinions of the Church at Jerusalem, were
misinformed on this subject, it is necessary to frame an hypothesis which
shall not only account for three or four fanatics, fancying that they saw
Jesus Christ alive, when it was nothing but the creation of a disordered
imagination, but for the fact that more than five hundred persons laboured
under a similar delusion. The assertion of the Apostle is express, not
that more than five hundred persons were persuaded to believe that some
others had seen Jesus Christ after He was risen from the dead, but that
they had actually seen Him themselves.

The only way of evading the force of this testimony is either by directly
impugning St. Paul’s veracity, or by supposing that he made an assertion
based on a vulgar rumour. The whole character of the Apostle renders the
supposition of a deliberate falsehood incredible, besides the danger
already alluded to of certain detection by his opponents. Nor is the other
alternative more tenable, that on such a subject he adopted a mere idle
rumour. No subject more occupied his mind than the Resurrection of Jesus
Christ. For Him he sacrificed everything. To Him he devoted his entire
life. Is it conceivable that such a man would not, under the influence of
common curiosity, have inquired into the alleged facts of his Master’s
Resurrection? But these letters prove that he was a man of far more than
ordinary curiosity. It is clear from them that he kept himself acquainted
with the details of the events which took place in the Churches which he
had planted. Messengers were sent by him to supply him with all necessary
information. Even in so distant a Church as that of Rome, which he had not
even visited, he knew no small number of the chief Christians by name, and
took the deepest interest in their affairs. Are we to believe that such a
man received such a fact connected with the dearest interests of his life
without taking the trouble to ascertain its truth? Moreover, his former
character as a persecutor must have rendered it necessary that he should
institute a diligent inquiry into the alleged Resurrection of one whom he
considered an impostor, and whose adherents he was endeavouring to compel
to renounce their allegiance. We must, therefore, conclude that what St.
Paul here affirms must have been true, that on one definite occasion
several hundreds of persons thought that they had seen Jesus Christ after
He was risen from the dead.

But if it is in the highest degree difficult to account for the
possibility of three or four of the disciples of Jesus fancying they saw
their risen Master, when they saw nothing but a creation of their own
imagination, what theory can be framed to account for the fact of several
hundreds of persons having become the prey of a similar delusion? Large
numbers of persons do not fall into delusions of this kind. Are we to
suppose that some of them affirmed that some distant object which they saw
was Jesus, and that the remainder accepted the assertion without inquiry?
If He had not come near to them, would they not have rushed up to a man,
who was believed to have come up again from the grave, and endeavoured to
converse with him? Let all history be searched for any fact at all like
this. Until something like it can be found, we are justified in
pronouncing such a delusion impossible. Nay: however common the belief in
ghost stories, it would be impossible to find a case of several hundred
persons who believed that, on some one definite occasion, when they were
all assembled, they had seen the ghost of a person who had recently been
executed, appear before them, and on the strength of this belief,
constituted themselves into a new society;—a society which has endured
through eighteen centuries? However cynical our views may be, it is
impossible to believe that human nature is a lie.

Again: If for the purposes of the argument we accept the impossible
supposition that a few deluded fanatics persuaded themselves that they had
seen their Master risen from the dead, and that they set themselves to
persuade others that this was a fact, then it is clear that the wish of
making converts to their belief must have been a very gradual and slow
process. This, in the face of all the evidence supplied by history, does
not require further proof. It would be impossible to make converts at all,
without adducing some overwhelming evidence of the truth of their
assertion. But on the supposition that it was a delusion of the
imagination, such evidence could not be forthcoming. Such beliefs are only
possible after the lapse of very considerable intervals of time, if they
are possible even then.

But in the present case recollections were all fresh. Will the attempt to
persuade persons who live in the city where a public execution has taken
place, that the man executed is alive again, succeed? Will it succeed
anywhere in the neighbourhood, while the events are still in everybody’s
recollection? Living actors must have died out, memories of the past must
have become faint, before such things can be made to wear even the
semblance of possibility. But the plain historical facts refuse to concede
the requisite interval during which such a belief could slowly grow up.
While the belief was growing, the Church would have been perishing from
want of a Messiah to step into the place of the dead Jesus. On the
contrary, the growth of the belief was rapid. The Church speedily rose
from its ruins. Before St. Paul’s conversion, it had increased to such
numbers as to be worth persecuting. There was a Church at Jerusalem; there
were Churches in Judæa; there were Christians in Damascus. Before this
event the small knot of deluded fanatics had persuaded thousands; they had
formed the Society which subverted the religion and institutions of the
Roman empire, and of which all the progressive races of men profess—now in
the 19th century of its existence—to be still members. The facts of
unquestionable history utterly refuse to the advocates of this theory the
time necessary for imparting to it even a passing plausibility.

I infer, therefore, that the theory that one or more credulous enthusiasts
among the disciples of Jesus fancied that they saw their Master risen from
the dead, while in reality they were labouring under some mental
hallucination, and that they communicated their enthusiasm to the rest,
and that these created the Christian Church, is unsound in philosophy,
contradicts the facts of history, and the phenomena of human nature, as
testified to by past experience, and is destitute of the possibility of
verification, and also is contrary to analogy. It follows, therefore, that
this portion of the alternative before us must be pronounced utterly
inadequate as a solution of the facts.

Let us now consider the other alternative, that Jesus did not actually
die, but, although He had been crucified, escaped with His life; that His
disciples saw Him after His crucifixion; and, being persuaded that He had
expired, mistook His appearance for a restoration to life.

This alternative need not detain us long. It is involved in a considerable
number of the difficulties which are connected with the assumption that
some one or more of the disciples fancied that they saw Him when they did
not really see Him, and that they persuaded the others that He was risen
from the dead. These difficulties I have already disposed of. But it has
in addition some difficulties peculiarly its own, which I will now briefly
notice.

I admit that it was possible to recover from the effects of crucifixion,
if taken down from the cross in time. This we learn from Josephus, who, on
his return one day from going to examine a place for the encampment of the
Roman forces, found that three of his friends had been crucified during
his absence. By his entreaties, he obtained the orders of Titus for their
being taken down. Two died under cure; one recovered. Josephus is silent
as to whether they had been scourged before they were crucified. This was
no doubt an important point in reference to the possibility of recovery.
Such was the usual practice; although when the Romans crucified the Jews
in large numbers, as they had now been in the habit of doing for some
time, it may be a question whether it was always inflicted. These persons
had probably been suspended on the cross for some hours before they were
taken down. They were treated with the utmost care, with a view to their
recovery; yet two out of the three died. Such are the facts, as related by
Josephus.

It has been suggested that Jesus was only in a swoon when taken down from
the cross; that in the sepulchre He recovered His consciousness, to which
the large quantity of spices used at His burial might have contributed;
that He managed to creep out of the grave to some place of security, where
He was seen by a few of His disciples, but that He died not long after.
This, it is said, the disciples mistook for a Resurrection, and that it
formed the basis of the renewed life of the Church. Let it be observed
that there would be the same difficulties in re‐constituting the Church on
such a basis, and in procuring converts to this belief, as there would
have been on the other alternative, which I have shown to be untenable.
These, therefore, I need not consider.

This theory pre‐supposes not only that the body of Jesus was interred, but
that it was committed to the custody of His friends. This fact we have
from the Gospels; as well as the additional fact that the time during
which He was suspended on the cross did not exceed six hours at the
utmost. But we also learn from them that, before Pilate ordered the body
to be delivered up, he took care to ascertain, from those in charge, the
certainty of the death; and the fourth Gospel affirms that one of the
soldiers, in order to remove all doubt on the subject, pierced his side
with a spear. Now without the aid of the Gospels it would not have been
known that the body was committed to the custody of His friends. If,
therefore, their historical testimony is good for this fact, it is absurd
to refuse them credence when they testify to the other facts. We say
distinctly: if the truth of the one set of facts is denied, because the
Gospels are unhistorical, the truth of the other set (for the Gospels are
the sole authorities) must not be assumed on their testimony. Apart from
this, we are only at liberty to assume that the crucifixion was conducted
in the usual manner; and that the bodies were disposed of accordingly,
_i.e._ that, if the crucified persons were buried at all, they were buried
ignominiously. It has also been affirmed that Pilate sacrificed Jesus by
compulsion, and that the centurion on guard was not ill‐disposed towards
him. This again, I say, we only learn from our present Gospels, and I must
again protest against the practice of accepting their testimony on one
side and ignoring it on the other. The Romans, moreover, were not the sort
of men to allow a crucified victim to be taken down from the cross until
they were well assured that he had hung there long enough to extinguish
life; and from the frequency of such executions they would learn how long
it would require, and what on such occasions were the symptoms of death;
nor did they concede to persons so executed an honourable burial.

But further: It never occurred to the Jews that it was possible that the
crucified Jesus had escaped with His life, and that this fact was really
at the bottom of the announcement of His resurrection. If it was known to
any person concerned that He had thus escaped, nothing could have been
more dangerous on the part of His followers than to announce that He was
risen from the dead. This was the very thing to promote inquiry, and to
arouse a suspicion among His enemies that He had not really died, and thus
to induce them to make every effort to ascertain the place of His retreat.
The quickest way to put an end to the story of the Resurrection was to
produce the living Jesus, weak and exhausted from His wounds; or, if He
had really died, to produce His body. But not a single whisper has come
down to us from the opponents of Christianity that He did not really die.
If such an idea had afforded even a probable account of the story of the
Resurrection, it would certainly have occurred to Paul when a persecutor,
and he would have had recourse to it as a means of dissipating the
delusion. Such are some of the first difficulties which surround this mode
of accounting for the story of the Resurrection. A sepulchre was a place
ill‐fitted for a man, exhausted by scourging and crucifixion, to recover
in; nor was there a retreat at hand. But, as we scrutinize the matter more
closely, these difficulties become impossibilities.

It is clear that from the hour of His supposed death on the cross, Jesus
disappears from history, except in the form of Jesus the Messiah raised
again from the dead, the great Founder of the Christian Church. If,
therefore, His supposed Resurrection was nothing but a recovery from a
swoon, one of two things is certain: either He died shortly after from
exhaustion, or He lived somewhere in deepest retirement, only receiving
visits from those of His followers who were in the secret, and in due
course He expired. Perhaps it may be urged that His friends succeeded in
carrying Him off into some distant country, and that some one or more of
His followers, who had seen Him slowly recovering, mistook this for a
resurrection, and propagated the story.

We must keep steadily in view that what we have to account for is not a
mere story of a resurrection propagated by a crazed fanatic, but the
erection of the Christian Church on its basis. It is a plain fact that
Jesus appeared no more in public, and that His earthly history ends with
His crucifixion. What became of Him? It is impossible to over‐estimate the
importance of this question.

Let us take the first supposition that He recovered from a swoon, but died
shortly afterwards from exhaustion. This theory involves the necessity
that some one or more of His followers should have seen Him alive and
dying of exhaustion. Was it possible, I ask, for the most deluded
fanaticism to mistake such a condition for a resurrection from the dead?
Was this a basis on which to revive the hopes of the disciples, and to re‐
construct the Church? Would any amount of enthusiastic credulity mistake
such a person for the Messiah of the future? If He died shortly
afterwards, what became of His Messiahship? Did His other followers pay
Him no visits during His illness? Did they see Him die, or attend His
burial? Surely such positions do not require serious argument.

But let us suppose that He recovered, lived in retirement and only
received the secret visits of a few followers, and that out of this the
story of the Resurrection grew. How grew? I again ask. Such growths
require considerable periods of time, and these, history utterly refuses
to grant. Would it be possible, I ask, for any deluded follower to mistake
such facts for a resurrection from the dead? Could Jesus himself have so
mistaken it? or, however well the secret might be kept, would a Messiah,
living in privacy, out of the sight of friends and foes, be a possible
Messiah, who could impart a new life to the Church? In such a case it is
impossible to exonerate the persons concerned from fraud, even the Great
Teacher himself. Are we to suppose that He himself actually mistook His
recovery from a swoon for a resurrection, and justified His followers in
publishing a report of it? Why then did He not appear in public and assert
His Messianic claims? But could His followers have persuaded themselves
that a man who must have shown distinct indications of slow recovery, and
who never ventured to appear again in public, was raised again from the
dead to continue His Messianic work? If this is the true account of the
matter, it was not a delusion but an imposture. If we suppose that a few
friends only visited Him, what did His other disciples say about the
matter? Did the few, with the concurrence of their Master, propagate the
belief that He was gone into heaven, knowing that He was still on earth?
Be these things as they may (and those who have started the idea should
solve it), if the real basis of the story of the Resurrection be a
recovery from a swoon and a subsequent life of privacy, Jesus must have
shared the common fate of humanity and died. This must have been known to
those with whom He lived; it must have been known to those who visited
Him. His death must have dispelled their delusions. Henceforth the
propagation of their story must have been due to wilful fraud—a fraud for
which it is impossible to assign a motive, and which it is not the modern
practice to charge on the first propagators of Christianity.

The remaining supposition, that Jesus, after having been seen by one or
two of His followers alive and slowly recovering, was conveyed away to
some distant place, where they saw Him no more, and that out of this grew
the story of His Resurrection and Ascension into Heaven, is not only in
itself intrinsically incredible, but it offends against every one of the
principles which I have established. I need not, therefore, discuss it
further.

The existence of the Church is a fact. It is professedly based on another
fact, namely, the Resurrection of Christ. If this be true, it fully
accounts for the existence, origin, and growth of the Church. No other
theory can account for it. The Resurrection is a fact, or a delusion. If
it is not a fact, two suppositions respecting its origin are alone
possible. These have been proved, on the strongest historical evidence, to
be impossible. It follows, therefore, that the only remaining alternative
is the true one: that JESUS CHRIST ROSE FROM THE DEAD. Its attestation is
stronger than that of any other fact in history.





CHAPTER XXI. THE HISTORICAL VALUE OF THE GOSPELS AS DEDUCED FROM PREVIOUS
CONSIDERATIONS.


I have proved in the preceding chapters that one of the miracles recorded
in the Gospels is substantiated by the highest form of historical
testimony, on evidence quite independent of their contents. I have adopted
this course because unbelievers affirm that the miraculous narratives
contained in them are alone sufficient to prove them to be unhistorical.
It has therefore become necessary to prove the truth of the greatest
miracle which they narrate, without any reference to their assertions.
Christianity unquestionably existed before the Gospels were written, and
the all‐important fact on which it rests can be substantiated without
their aid, on data which are conceded by our opponents. Its truth or
falsehood therefore does not rest on any mere question as to what was
their actual date, or who were their authors. Still they are the only
records of the life of Jesus Christ that the Church possesses. The
question therefore as to whether they are true in all their chief
outlines, is one of such importance as to render a few observations on
this subject indispensable.

There can be no doubt that no one would have ever thought of denying their
general authenticity, except on account of the miraculous narratives they
contain. This has made them the battle‐field of Christianity, because it
has been supposed that if their historical character can be shaken,
Christianity would be disproved as resting on no other basis. For this
purpose every variation in them, even the smallest, has been noted, and
these variations have been magnified into contradictions. There is no
weapon which criticism has not employed for the purpose of impugning their
veracity. But the real ground of offence is the miraculous narrative. As,
however, I have proved that the most important miracle recorded in them
can be established on grounds quite independent of their testimony, we can
now approach their consideration with this great antecedent difficulty
removed. If the Resurrection of Jesus is an actual occurrence, the other
miraculous events recorded in them no longer stand in the way of their
acceptance as genuine histories. This one miracle is sufficient to carry
all the rest; not, of course, that it proves that they occurred, but it
gets rid of the entire _à priori_ difficulty with which their acceptance
is attended. Nay, further, if Christ rose from the dead, it is more
probable than not, that this was not the only miracle connected with Him:
or, in other words, if the authors of the Gospels attributed to Him no
other miraculous action, it would rather afford a presumption against them
as credible historians. It follows therefore, that although the proof of
the Resurrection does not by itself establish the reality of the other
miracles recorded as having been performed by Him, it renders them so far
probable, that the same amount of evidence, which is sufficient to
establish the ordinary facts of history, is sufficient to establish the
general truth of the events recorded in the Gospels. I do not mean to
affirm that some miracle may not have been incorrectly attributed to
Christ in the traditions of the Church, from which the narratives in the
Gospels have been derived, in the same manner as some inaccurate reports
of facts have obtained admission into ordinary histories. But as these
latter do not affect the general credibility of history, so errors of this
description would not affect the general credibility of the Gospel
narratives. All that I claim for them is that they should be both alike
tried by the historical canons of criticism applicable to the same species
of documents. Let me state once for all the position that I occupy. I am
not called upon to prove that no error can have crept into their accounts;
that events are all arranged in their true order of sequence; that
variations do not exist in them which with our present knowledge of the
details, it is difficult to reconcile, or even that the Evangelists
themselves may not have misconceived their true order, or grouped them in
one that was the result of religious considerations. The determination of
such questions may affect our views as to the nature of the inspiration
under which we suppose the Gospels to have been written, but it is one
wholly foreign to an historical discussion. The question which I have to
consider is, not the extent of the inspiration of their authors; but
whether they do or do not contain genuine history; and if they do, to what
class of historical writings they belong, and to estimate their testimony
accordingly.

I will consider this last question first. The Gospels most distinctly
affirm that they do not belong to the class of professed histories, but to
that of memoirs. This is a very important consideration; for if they only
claim to be memoirs and not histories it is absurd to demand of them an
accuracy of arrangement and of detail, which would be essential to a
history, but which forms no portion of the plan of a memoir. But they not
only affirm that they are memoirs, but memoirs of a peculiar character;
that is to say, religious memoirs, composed with a double purpose, viz.
that of setting forth the events of a life, and at the same time of
teaching a religion.

This point is so important, and is so generally overlooked in the
arguments both of those who affirm and of those who deny their historical
character, that it will be necessary to prove it. It is not only evident
from the general nature of their contents, but three of the Evangelists
directly affirm it, and two of them, Luke and John, in express terms. The
former distinctly asserts that he composed his Gospel in order that a
person called “Theophilus” might know the certainty of the things in which
he had been instructed. “Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth
a declaration of these things that are most surely believed among us; even
as they delivered them unto us, which from the beginning were eye
witnesses and ministers of the word; it seemed good to me also, having
perfect understanding of all things from the first, to write unto thee in
order, most excellent Theophilus, that thou mightest know the certainty of
those things in which thou hast been instructed.” (Luke i. 1‐4.)

Here we have the purpose of the writer definitely affirmed. It is to set
forth a statement of the leading facts of the life of Jesus, for the
purpose of communicating instruction in the Christian religion. In one
word, the author proposed to teach a religion by means of a narrative of
facts. It is hardly possible to give a more accurate description of a
memoir as distinguished from a history. He also tells us that he meant to
compose it in an orderly arrangement, but he does not tell us whether the
order was intended to be strictly chronological, or merely regulated by
the avowed religious purpose of the work. It is quite possible for a
writer to adopt an orderly arrangement, who arranges his matter as much by
religious considerations as by chronological ones. According to the
statement of this preface, the religious purpose is clearly the
predominant one; and it is therefore only reasonable to suppose that it
has exerted considerable influence on the grouping.

We learn also from this preface that the things most surely believed among
Christians consisted of a number of facts, which had been delivered to
them by persons who from the beginning were eye‐witnesses and ministers of
the word. Several persons had already set forth written accounts of them
before the author composed this Gospel. It is implied that he did so
because he possessed better and more accurate sources of information than
previous writers. The object, however, is clear; it was that Theophilus
might know the certainty of those things, _i.e._ the great facts on which
the Christianity, in which he had been instructed, was based.

The assertion of this religious purpose in the composition of the fourth
Gospel, and that the materials are a selection from a large mass of others
is even more distinct and definite. “Many other signs truly did Jesus in
the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book, but
these are written that ye may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of
God, and that believing ye may have life through his name.” (John xx. 30,
31.)

Words could hardly have been framed which more definitely assert that this
Gospel is a memoir, and not a history; and that the religious purpose, in
its composition, was the predominant idea of the writer.

The assertions of the author of St. Mark’s Gospel, although not equally
full, are sufficiently definite. He designates it as “The beginning of the
gladsome message of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Here, again, the
religious idea is plainly the predominant one in the writer’s mind, and
the obvious conclusion is that he intended his work to be a memoir, and
not a history.

We have no such direct affirmation by the author of St. Matthew’s Gospel,
unless the opening words, “The book of the generations of Jesus Christ,
the Son of David, the Son of Abraham,” are intended to cover the entire
work. The nature of its contents, however, leave not the smallest doubt
that his design in writing was precisely the same as that of the other
Evangelists, viz. to teach Christianity by setting forth a memoir of the
life of Jesus Christ.

Such, then, is the avowed purpose of the authors of the four Gospels. Each
of them is a religious memoir. This being so, it is absurd to demand of
such writings what can only be found in regularly composed histories.

In what, then, does a history differ from a memoir? The object of the
historian is not only to give an account of the events which he narrates
precisely as they occurred; but the order of his narrative is regulated by
the definite sequences of time and place. The writer of a memoir, on the
contrary, is not bound to observe this order, but he is entitled to vary
it in reference to the special object he has in view, and the points which
he requires to illustrate.

But the religious purpose is most definitely affirmed to have been the
predominant one in the minds of the authors of the Gospels. It would
therefore have an important influence on their arrangement of their
materials. We should expect to find them grouped far more in reference to
this end, than to the mere sequences of time and place. When certain of
the actions or portions of the teaching of our Lord illustrated the
particular subject which each Evangelist had before him, he would neglect
the exact historical order, and group them in reference to this special
purpose.

In writings of this description, therefore, while all the chief points of
his life and his discourses ought to present a substantial agreement, we
should naturally expect to find a considerable number of minor
divergencies. While we have the fullest right to expect that the facts
will be accurately reported, we have no right to demand that the writer
should observe no other order in his narrative than the mere sequences of
time and place. It is on the assumption that the authors of the Gospels
intended to set forth an exact historical account of the ministry of
Christ, instead of taking them for what they have affirmed them to be,
religious memoirs of that ministry, that no inconsiderable number of their
alleged discrepancies have originated.

The presence of variations, or if it is preferred to call them
contradictions, in writings of this description by no means invalidates
their historical character. It has been well observed by a writer in the
“Westminster Review,” that they are to be found in every historical
writing from Herodotus to Mr. Froude. As these discrepancies in the
Gospels are so largely dwelt on by unbelievers, I subjoin a passage from
Dean Stanley’s account of the murder of Thomas a Becket, in his “Memorials
of Canterbury Cathedral,” as showing the existence of such inaccuracies
even in the accounts of persons who were actual eye‐witnesses of events in
which they were deeply interested. Speaking of the number of existing
accounts of the murder, he says:—

“Of these thirty narrators, four, Edward Grimes, William Fitzstephen, John
of Salisbury, who unfortunately supplies but little, and the anonymous
author of the Lambeth manuscript, claim to have been eye‐witnesses. Three
others were monks of the convent, and although not present at the
massacre, were probably somewhere in the precincts. Three others, though
not in England at the time, had been on terms more or less intimate with
Becket, and two of them seem to have taken the utmost pains to ascertain
the truth of the facts which they narrate. From these several accounts, we
can recover the particulars of the death of Archbishop Becket to the
minutest details. It is true that having been written by monastic and
clerical historians, after the national feeling had been raised to
enthusiasm in his behalf, allowance must be made for exaggeration,
suppression, and every kind of false colouring which could set off their
hero to advantage. It is true, also, that _in some points the various
authorities are hopelessly irreconcilable_. But still a minute comparison
of the narrators with each other, and with the localities, leads to a
conviction that on the whole the facts have been substantially preserved;
and as often happens, the truth can be ascertained in spite and even in
consequence of attempts to distort and suppress it.”

It is clear, therefore, that the presence of variations, nay even
_hopeless contradictions_ in such narratives, does not interfere with
their general historical character. It appears that from narratives which
contain “exaggeration, suppression, and every kind of false colouring,” we
can ascertain the particulars of the death of Becket to the minutest
particular. Why do not unbelievers apply the same rule to the Gospels? Why
are their minor variations in details alleged to prove that the entire
narrative is unhistorical? One thing respecting them is clear: instead of
presenting indications of “exaggeration, suppression, and false
colouring,” they are characterized by a uniform sobriety in their
statements. They offer no comments, and allow the facts to produce their
own impression on the reader.

It follows therefore that if the Gospels were ordinary biographies, the
variations in them would not interfere with their historical character,
and that differences in mere details would leave the main facts
unaffected. Still more true is this with respect to memoirs, and
especially with those composed with the object of teaching a religion.
Attention to this obvious fact will get rid of a large number of the
objections which have been so pertinaciously urged against them.

With respect to their general credibility, it is important to observe that
even if the date of the Synoptics be placed as late as that assigned to
them by those critics who deny their historical character, viz. somewhere
between A.D. 90 and 115, still the time when they must have been composed
lies, according to the rule of Sir G. C. Lewis, within the period of
trustworthy historical tradition. In this case the earliest of them would
bear date about sixty, and the latest of them about eighty‐five years
after the events they narrate. Renan is of opinion that their internal
evidence proves them to have been composed before the destruction of
Jerusalem. Be this as it may; even at the date assigned to them by the
most sceptical critics, good traditionary information lay within the reach
of their respective authors. The interval is about the same in the one
case as that which separates us from the invasion of France by the allies
in 1814, and in the other case from the outbreak of the French Revolution.
Many persons are still alive who can remember the former event; and
although nearly everyone who could remember the latter has passed away,
yet large numbers of the existing generation, whose recollections will be
good for twenty years to come, have conversed with those who took the
deepest interest in the scenes in question. While this generation lives,
it would be impossible for the whole outline of the facts to become
falsified. Minor errors might creep into the details; their precise order
and sequence might not be accurately preserved; yet their general outline
would be handed down correctly, and it would be impossible to hide the
true history behind a set of legends. If the authors of the Synoptic
Gospels were only separated by this interval of time from the events that
they narrate, they must have had all the materials of true history within
their reach. Persons must have been living when the first Gospel was
written who could accurately remember the events in question; and even at
the latest date which can be assigned to the other Gospels, large numbers
of persons must have been living who had heard narratives of them from
their fathers, which, as unspeakably interesting, they would treasure up
with the liveliest recollection.

It follows, therefore, that even if we assume the latest date which has
been assigned for the publication of the Synoptic Gospels it lies
considerably within the period of accurate historical recollection, even
if we suppose that their authors composed them from traditional sources
only, and were not assisted by written documents. But the existence of
documents is expressly asserted by the author of St. Luke’s Gospel. And
even if we were devoid of this testimony, we might infer it from the
inherent probability of the case. This was inevitable, as the basis of the
religion was placed on a personal history. The system of instruction must
have involved a constant reference to the details of that history. When,
therefore, the members of the Churches heard them from the lips of
original witnesses, the interest of the subject must have induced those
who were able to write, to compose brief memoranda for the purpose of
assisting their recollections. In this way a considerable amount of
Christian literature in connection with the life of Jesus must have grown
up in the course of years, and the necessity for it would become the more
urgent in proportion as the original disciples who had heard His
discourses and seen His actions passed away from the scene. This is
exactly in conformity with the statement made by the author of St. Luke’s
Gospel.

It is clear, therefore, that even if the publication of our present
Gospels did not take place before the time assigned to them by
unbelievers, the historical materials at the command of their authors must
have been ample. It would have been impossible that facts and legendary
inventions should have become blended together within so short a period.
Consequently nothing but neglect to use the materials at hand, or a
deliberate purpose of falsification could have prevented them from giving
an account of the ministry of Jesus which would be substantially accurate
in all its main features. If on the other hand we suppose these Gospels to
have been written for the purpose of falsification, then their
contradiction to the accounts which had been hitherto accepted by the
Church must have destroyed their credit. It would have been impossible for
the authors to have succeeded in concealing the facts behind a mass of
myths and legends while they formed the very groundwork of the daily life
of the community. Under the peculiar circumstances of the Christians of
the first century some portion of the events of the life and teaching of
Christ must have been brought to their minds every day. The hostility of
the Pagan world around them was alone sufficient to ensure this. Moreover,
the religion was not one which was committed to the custody of a caste or
priesthood; but it appealed directly to the individual. As distinguished
from the other religions of the world Christianity may be not incorrectly
defined as the religion of the individual. It awoke emotions of the
profoundest nature in the hearts of even its humblest followers,
addressing itself both to their consciences and their affections. These
emotions were all centered in a personal life. If one fact is more certain
than another, it is that Jesus was viewed by the early Christians as their
religious King, to whom they owed a personal allegiance. This must have
rendered it necessary for them to treasure up all the facts of His history
with the deepest care.

Further: the early Christians not only lived in the midst of a society
extremely hostile to them, but were also zealous proselyters. This alone
would have been sufficient to compel them to keep in lively remembrance
the chief events in the history of Jesus. How else was it possible for
them to persuade others that He was the Christ? The Church was not a
school of philosophy, but consisted of a body of men whose bond of union
was adherence to a leader. To make converts to such a religion would have
been impossible without an accurate acquaintance with the facts on which
His claims were grounded.

Corporate bodies possess a power of handing down a traditionary knowledge
of events in a far greater degree than individuals. The Christian Church
consisted of a set of communities which had not only an individual, but
also the strongest corporate life. Although it contained no priesthood,
properly so called, the cohesion of these communities, placed as they were
in the midst of a hostile population, in Jewish or Gentile cities, was of
the strongest character, and in proportion to their smallness, the action
of each individual member would be important. Each separate Church
therefore formed a corporation as opposed to the Jewish and heathen world
by which it was surrounded; and each separate unit felt himself animated
by a similar life, which dictated to him the necessity of conquering or
perishing. From this arose an intense desire of making new converts and of
increasing the number of the faithful. How was this to be accomplished? An
organization was necessary. Each of the communities had one which was
suitable to its need. One of its most important functions must have been
to instruct new converts in its principles, and to keep actively burning
the zeal of its original members. But as the existence of the community
was founded on an adhesion to a person, the course of instruction must
have consisted to a considerable extent of details of the actions and
teaching of Jesus. “How shall they believe on him of whom they have not
heard?” was a pertinent question of St. Paul, “or how shall they hear
without a preacher?” No society has ever existed in the world which has
had an equal inducement to hand down accurately the events of its
founder’s life, or had equal facilities for detecting any attempt to
substitute a fictitious account of him for the true one.

It follows therefore that at the period in question it would have been
simply impossible that a fictitious or legendary account of the life of
Jesus should have taken the place of the one which these Churches had
accepted at the time when they first came into existence. I have already
proved that the Epistles of St. Paul put it beyond the possibility of
question that an account of the chief facts in the ministry of Jesus
formed the foundation of the religious life of the Churches at the time
when he wrote them, and that it had done so from the first. The difficulty
therefore of introducing an entirely new version of it must have been
insurmountable. A doubtful fact or two might have become incorporated, but
while the religious life of the community was thus strong, it would have
been utterly impossible to give a new colouring to the whole.

But further: this difficulty must have been greatly increased by the wide
separation of such Churches as those of Rome, Corinth, Galatia, Jerusalem,
and others, from one another. Each Church must have had an account of its
own of the chief facts of our Lord’s ministry. If one of them could have
been induced to accept a new set of facts, there would have been the
greatest difficulty in persuading the others to follow its example. Daily
experience teaches us how very slow religious bodies are in changing the
fundamental articles of their belief. However much the sentiments of
individuals may have changed, the original confessions of faith are
retained with the utmost tenacity, even after they have ceased to embody
the religious life of the community. What confessions of faith are to
modern Churches, the chief facts of the ministry of our Lord must have
been to the primitive one; the only difference being that these latter
lived with a far greater tenacity in the minds of the early Christians
than the former have in modern Churches. If therefore a single Church
could have been induced to accept a new version of its Founder’s life, the
separation of these different communities from one another, would have
placed an insuperable barrier in the way of imposing such an account on
the other Churches. The inquiry must have at once arisen, Whence has this
Church derived its new Gospel, thus fundamentally different from that
which has from the first formed the basis of our religious life?

It is clear therefore that even if we accept the latest date which had
been assigned to the publication of the Synoptic Gospels, their authors
must have been in possession of abundance of materials for setting forth
an account of the ministry of Jesus, which would have been correct in all
its great outlines; and that even if they had been so minded it would have
been impossible for them to have succeeded in palming off a previously
unknown set of facts in place of those which had hitherto formed the
groundwork of the life of the different Churches. We have seen also that
when St. Paul wrote his Epistles, the different Churches were in
possession of an outline of the ministry of Jesus Christ which contained
within it, as a matter of the highest importance, the most remarkable
miraculous fact which is recorded in the Gospels. Is it to be believed
that this was the only one; or, is it possible that a set of miraculous
narratives could have succeeded in taking the place of the account of His
life and teaching which was in possession of the Churches, within the
interval of time which separates St. Paul’s Epistles from the publication
of the first of the Synoptic Gospels?

I conclude, therefore, that the original narratives must have attributed a
number of miracles to Jesus Christ; that the accounts of them must have
been handed down to the time when our opponents allow that the Gospels
were published, and that by this means they have been incorporated into
them. Not only has the alleged late date of the publication of the Gospels
been urged as a reason for discrediting them as reports of historical
facts, but also the uncertainty of their authorship. It will not fall
within the scope of this work to examine the value of the testimony by
which each Gospel has been assigned to its respective author. It will be
sufficient here to observe that it is as strong as that by which the
authorship of any other ancient writing is ascertained. The internal
character of two of these Gospels fully agrees with the traditionary
account. Although the assertions of the early Fathers vary as to the
precise relation in which Mark stood to Peter, the ancient traditions are
unanimous in connecting him in some way or other with the Apostle. The
phenomena of this Gospel are precisely such as we should expect if this
was the case. In nearly every case where we can ascertain, either from
this or from one of the other Gospels, that Peter was an eye‐witness of an
event recorded in it, St. Mark gives precisely such a description of it as
we might expect would be given by a man of the peculiar temperament of
Simon Peter. We know, both from the Acts of the Apostles and from the
Epistles of St. Paul, that St. Luke was a companion of that Apostle. The
peculiarities of the Gospel that bears his name are precisely such as we
should have expected if its author was a companion of the great Apostle of
the Gentiles. There is also every reason for believing that Luke was not
an eye‐witness of the ministry of Jesus. The author of the Gospel affirms
that he was not an eye‐witness. In conformity with this the Gospel bears
the most distinctive marks of compilation. So far the internal structure
of these two Gospels entirely agrees with the external testimony as to
their authorship. We know also on the authority of the early Fathers that
Matthew composed a Gospel in the Hebrew language which was designed for
the use of Jewish Christians. Now whoever is the author of the present
Greek Gospel which bears his name, it is distinguished by precisely the
same characteristics as those which are described as appertaining to the
Hebrew Gospel of St. Matthew, that is to say, that the proportion which
the discourses bear to the narrative portions of it is very large; and its
contents make it evident that it was chiefly designed for the use of
Christians of the Jewish race. If therefore our present Gospel was not set
forth by the Apostle himself in Greek, both the external testimony and the
internal evidence prove that it is a representation of its contents
sufficiently accurate for all the practical purposes of history.

But the question as to the names of the persons who actually set forth our
Gospels has been made of far more importance than it deserves, both by the
defenders and the opponents of Christianity. The all important point is,
are they faithful accounts of the primitive traditions of the Church
respecting the chief events of its Founder’s ministry; and were they
composed within that period of time, when the recollections of it must
have been so fresh as to render it impossible to substitute a body of
fictitious and legendary narratives in place of those which had been
handed down in the Church from the beginning? Unless we know enough about
an author from external sources of information, to enable us to form a
definite opinion as to his judgment and means of information, our mere
knowledge of his name will help us little. The information which
ecclesiastical tradition affords us respecting the authors of the Synoptic
Gospels is little beyond that which is contained in the New Testament
itself, and is insufficient to enable us to form a judgment respecting
their character. That judgment must be formed exclusively from the
writings themselves, and can only be arrived at after a careful
examination of their contents.

It will be urged that if our present Greek Matthew could be shown to have
been the work of the Apostle, we should then have the testimony of an eye‐
witness of the ministry of Jesus; and if we have no certain evidence that
it was composed by him, then none of the events recorded in the Synoptics
rest on autoptic testimony. The truth of this position I entirely deny.
The real question is, do the events recorded in them faithfully represent
the traditions of the Church? Have we evidence that the traditions which
were current when these Gospels were composed, are accurate
representations of the accounts of the ministry of Jesus, which were
handed down by our Lord’s original disciples? If so, they must rest on
autoptic testimony, as they could only have been derived from our Lord’s
companions. The mere knowing the name of one of them, unless we knew a
great deal about his judgment and discretion, is of far less importance
than the assurance that we are in possession of the general testimony of
the entire body. Nor does it necessarily follow that any one follower of
Jesus, even an Apostle, was in constant attendance on His person. We know
from the Gospels themselves that this was not always the case. If such a
person had narrated events which occurred during his absence, he must have
been indebted for his knowledge of them to the testimony of others. If
therefore the present Greek Matthew could be proved to be the work of the
Apostle, still it by no means follows that he was an eye‐witness of every
one of the events recorded in it. If, however, it was set forth in its
present form by some other hand, I fully admit that neither of the
Synoptics was composed by an Apostle. But this is a wholly different point
from the consideration whether they do or do not embody the testimony of
the eye‐witnesses of the ministry of Jesus Christ. This does not depend on
our knowledge of the names of their respective authors, but whether we
have good evidence that they faithfully embody the primitive apostolical
traditions.

A careful perusal of the Synoptics will convince the reader that neither
of them professes to embody a set of personal reminiscences. On the
contrary, they bear the strongest indications of being a collection of
apostolic traditions. Of this I shall offer distinctive proof in the next
chapter. The only Gospel which embodies such personal reminiscences as
indicate the authorship of an eye‐witness is that of St. John. But the
indications of the presence of an individual personality in St. Matthew’s
Gospel are almost entirely wanting. In its general structure it forms a
striking contrast to that of John. Supposing it to have been composed by
the Apostle, he has entirely hidden his individuality in his narrative.

The question, therefore, really turns on the conclusion at which we are
able to arrive as to whether the Synoptic Gospels are faithful
representations of the primitive apostolic traditions. I have proved that
even at the latest date to which opponents assign their publication, they
must have been written within the period when all the requisite materials
existed for composing a substantially correct account of all the leading
facts; that such a traditionary account was certainly handed down in the
Church; that it formed the ground‐work of its existence; that it must have
been derived from apostolic men, who had ample means of knowing the facts;
that the Church possessed the means of transmitting them accurately, such
as were never possessed by any other Society; and that it was under the
necessity of doing so as the condition of its life; and that while this
account remained fresh in the recollections both of the community and of
its individual members, it would have been impossible to foist on them a
fictitious story. I shall now proceed to inquire how far the phenomena of
the Gospels tend to establish these positions.





CHAPTER XXII. THE HISTORICAL CHARACTER OF THE GOSPELS AS DEDUCED FROM
THEIR INTERNAL STRUCTURE.


This subject is an extremely extensive one. The utmost, therefore, that I
can do is to notice a few of the most important points which bear on the
argument. I have already shown that the general principles of historical
evidence point to the conclusion that the Synoptic Gospels are three
different versions of the primitive apostolical traditions respecting the
actions and the teaching of Jesus Christ, and that even on the assumption
that the dates assigned to them by the opponents are the correct ones
(which however I would by no means be understood as conceding, for all the
internal evidence points to a much earlier period), they were still
composed within the period when such traditions possess the highest
historical value. I must now inquire whether the general structure of
these Gospels confirms this conclusion.

The question therefore at once arises, what is their general character? Do
they present the marks of traditionary history; or of being three works
composed by three different authors, who not only wrote independently of
each other, but who used no common source of information? Do their
narratives present us with the characteristics of historical truth or of
fictitious invention? The facts before us are ample, and they ought to
enable us to return a definite answer to these questions.

The most remarkable trait which first strikes the reader is the presence
of a common narrative interwoven with a considerable amount of matter
peculiar to each Gospel. Many of the events, and several of the discourses
are narrated by all three Evangelists; others by only two. Besides these
common narratives and discourses, which form the larger portion of the
Gospels, each of them contains narratives and discourses peculiar to
itself. While they possess much that is common, it is clear that each
writer had a distinct object in view in the compilation of his Gospel;
that of St. Matthew being chiefly designed for Jewish Christians; that of
St. Luke for Gentile converts, and that of St. Mark occupying an
intermediate place between the two. It was also obviously the object of
the author of St. Matthew’s Gospel to set forth the discourses; of that of
St. Mark’s to give a graphic description of the actions of our Lord. Each
of these Gospels is also distinguished by a number of minor peculiarities.

When the common narrative comes to be closely scrutinized, it presents us
with phenomena more remarkable than any that can be found elsewhere in
literature. These narratives are couched to a considerable extent in the
same words and phrases, closely interwoven with a number of most singular
variations, which have an important bearing on their historical character.
As far as the words are identical, they force on us the conclusion that
they must have been derived from some common origin. These identities are
more striking in the narrative than in the discourses. Three independent
writers, if they intended to hand down the general sense of a body of
discourses, on the supposition that they were in possession of accurate
information, would repeat them to a great extent in the same words. But
that three independent writers, who used no common source of information
in narrating the same occurrences, should have employed the same words to
the extent to which it has been done by the authors of these Gospels is
simply impossible.

But if they had all copied from the same document, these identities of
expression must inevitably have been more complete. It would have been
impossible that they could have been of the capricious character which
they present to us in the pages of the Evangelists. Even in the
narratives, frequent as is the use of the same words, the variations are
numerous; nor are they much less so in the discourses. They are of the
most singular character, and without the smallest apparent purpose.
Sometimes they are simple changes in grammatical construction, or a word
of nearly the same meaning is substituted for another. Then we find one or
more lines, sometimes a whole sentence, transposed. Sometimes words or
lines which are inserted by one Evangelist are omitted by another, the
omission obscuring, and the insertion throwing light on the sense. At
other times, a whole incident is omitted which, if it had been inserted,
would have made an obscure context plain. In the discourses it
occasionally happens that a part of one which we read in the same context
in another Evangelist, and which seems to be required by the connection,
is omitted, when words of nearly the same import have been attributed to
our Lord elsewhere. Again: sayings are reported in which, while many words
are the same, others are varied without any conceivable reason for the
variation. In one or two instances, when words are put into the mouths of
persons different from those to whom they are attributed by another
Evangelist, the grammatical structure is altered to suit the variation. Of
this we have two remarkable examples in the account of the healing of the
Centurion’s servant, and in the narrative of the request which the two
sons of Zebedee and Salome presented to our Lord. The words are precisely
the same, while the grammatical forms differ, according as the one or the
other is regarded as the speaker.

Such are the chief phenomena. But the full extent and character of these
variations, in the closest union as they are with identities of
expression, can only be appreciated by a careful comparison of the
parallel narrative of the Gospels. Numerous, however, as are the
variations, it must be observed that they exert scarcely any appreciable
influence on the general sense. They utterly negate the idea that they can
have originated in any set or deliberate purpose. Let us take for example
the account of the feeding of the five thousand. The Synoptics employ the
very remarkable expression, that after the performance of the miracle, our
Lord _constrained_ the disciples to embark, without giving us a hint of
the reason of so unusual an occurrence. We turn to St. John’s Gospel; he
says not one word about our Lord’s constraining the disciples to embark,
but tells us that the multitude were designing to come and take Jesus by
force and make Him a king. This notice, which is of the most incidental
character, gives as the fullest explanation of an event which would
otherwise have been extremely obscure.

But further: in the account of the miracle itself, one of the Evangelists
tells us, that the numbers who were fed were about five thousand, besides
women and children. How then were the numbers ascertained? and how came it
to pass that the men only were numbered, and neither the women, nor
children? Another Evangelist tells us that the multitude were directed to
sit down in companies by hundreds and by fifties. This at once explains
how the numbers were arrived at. But if this was the case, how came it to
be known that the men were about five thousand; and how came it to pass,
that the women and children were excluded from the total enumeration? Here
again another Evangelist comes to our help; and informs us that although
the order was given to the whole multitude to sit down in companies, those
who actually did so were the ἄνδρες not the ἄνθρωποι, _i.e._ that the men
only sat down, but the women and children did not. This is told us in the
most incidental form, appearing only in the Greek.

This last case is perhaps the most remarkable example in the Gospels, of
the manner in which an incidental variation in one Evangelist throws light
on the obscurities of another. Can such a narrative be otherwise than
historical? This note of veracity is so entirely incidental that it has in
all probability escaped the notice of nine hundred and ninety‐nine out of
every thousand of its readers. There are many others, though less
striking, all of which are of the same incidental character, and it is
impossible to attribute them to design. Surely this can only have resulted
from our being in the presence of facts and not of fiction.

But the variations in the discourses require a further notice. When
variations occur in highly important discourses, it is open to the
suspicion that they have originated in the deliberate purpose of giving a
different doctrinal meaning to the words. But when we closely examine
those in the Gospels, although they are very numerous, we find them of a
purely incidental character, exerting a very inconsiderable influence on
the sense. I am aware that attempts have been made to show that some few
of these variations have originated in design; but these attempts only
prove the straits to which those who make them are driven. Thus in the
account of the Sermon on the Mount as we read it in St. Matthew, the
passage runs: “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven.” In the corresponding passage in St. Luke it runs: “Blessed are
_ye_ poor,” _i.e._ the poor people who were our Lord’s disciples, for the
Evangelist expressly tells us that these words were addressed, not to the
multitude generally, but to them. The supposition that this variation
indicates the presence of something resembling communistic views in the
author of St. Luke’s Gospel is too absurd to be worthy of serious
discussion. Taking them as a whole, these discrepancies create no
appreciable difference in the teaching of Jesus as reported by the
different Evangelists.

One thing respecting them is clear—they bear the strongest testimony to
the historical character of the writings which contain them. It is simply
inconceivable that the authors of the Gospels made them deliberately. They
must have found them in the sources from which they drew their
information. They form one of the strongest proofs that neither a forger,
nor an accommodater of facts for the purpose of making them fit in with
particular doctrinal theories, has had any hand in originating them. In
simple changes in grammatical structure, purpose or design is
inconceivable.

But the variations in narratives, such as those above referred to, are
even more important as constituting an attestation of their historical
reality than variations in discourses. Four separate versions of a
fictitious incident fail to clear up one another’s obscurities. But the
ability to do so is the distinctive mark of imperfect narratives of facts,
told by different witnesses. When two things of a complicated mechanical
construction exactly dovetail into each other, it is a proof that they
have originated in the same mind. In a similar manner, when a number of
distinct narratives, each of which is more or less incomplete, exactly fit
into each other, this constitutes a proof, that they did not originate in
a fiction but in a fact.

An illustration will aid in showing the force of this reasoning. The early
history of Rome is unquestionably of a highly legendary character. We have
two versions of it, one by Livy, and another by Dionysius. These writers
do not give us direct accounts of the primitive legends, but their
narratives are compiled from authors of a much earlier date, who first
reduced them to writing. Still these historians may be viewed as
substantially accurate reporters of the legendary history, as it was
compiled by the earlier writers. An important question therefore arises,
does the twofold account which we possess of these legends, after all the
efforts made by Livy and Dionysius to weave them into a consistent whole,
bear the smallest analogy to the narratives contained in four Evangelists?
It is clear that great disagreements existed among the original
authorities. Let us take any account of the supposed events of three
years—do the variations in the two accounts bear the smallest resemblance
to the singular phenomena which we find in the Evangelists? Will they
dovetail into one another? Will the small additions in one throw light on
the obscurities of the other? Do the speeches present any indications of
being copies of a common original? All these questions must be answered in
the negative. Whence then comes this difference between the narratives of
the Evangelists and the legendary accounts of the origin of the Roman
power? I answer, because the one is founded on fact and the other on
fiction.

It is not my intention to discuss the innumerable theories that have been
propounded as to the origin of the Gospels, for the purpose of accounting
for the common narrative, its variations, and the additions peculiar to
each. Many of these theories violate the principle of common sense; and if
the contrary were not known to be the fact they would suggest the idea
that their authors had never practised the art of literary composition.
Among them I shall only notice the theories which suppose that the
Evangelists had before them one common document when writing their
Gospels; or that one of them had before him the Gospel of another; that
they deliberately copied the common words and phrases, and no less
deliberately made the alterations, additions, and transpositions which the
common narrative presents. Let us take for an illustration the supposition
that the author of Mark’s Gospel had that of Matthew before him, or the
converse. In the one case he must have deliberately retained all the
common words and phrases, after making the most capricious variations and
suppressions. Next, he must have inserted all the little additions which
distinguish the Gospel of St. Mark from that of St. Matthew, and made the
requisite transpositions. But what is still more remarkable, he must also
have taxed his invention to insert in the midst of its impersonal
narrative all those graphic descriptions which impart to Mark’s Gospel the
appearance of ocular testimony. Besides all this he must of set purpose
have omitted nearly all the discourses in which Matthew’s Gospel is so
full, or have placed them in a different context. If, on the other hand,
we suppose that Mark’s Gospel is the original and Matthew’s the copy, the
whole process must be reversed, and above all the author must have
deliberately struck out the graphic portions of Mark, except in one or two
instances, when he has added some of his own. All theories which are
founded on the supposition that the authors of either Gospel used a common
document and deliberately altered it, or that one of them formed his
Gospel out of that of another by a number of additions and subtractions
axe simply incredible.

But the common narrative exists with the identities of expression
interwoven with its variations. How are we to account for this remarkable
fact? The identities of expression must have had a common origin. But what
do the variations prove? Evidently that the narrative had passed through a
period of oral transmission. No other theory can adequately account for
them.

Such variations would naturally spring up in the course of oral
transmission. We have already seen that the circumstances of the Church
rendered such a mode of transmission necessary, as details of our Lord’s
life must have formed regular portions of Christian instruction. In doing
this, variations would inevitably arise. After a while they would assume a
distinctive type in different Churches. If then the Synoptic narratives
are three versions of an oral Gospel handed down in as many Churches, and
put together with additions by their respective authors, this affords a
reasonable explanation of the phenomena which the common narrative
presents. In this case the only thing which involves a difficulty is the
large number of identities preserved by the Evangelists. This proves the
strong hold which the words must have had on the minds of the members of
the different Churches.

The existence of a traditionary narrative is still further proved by the
fourth Gospel. No one can deny that this is an independent record, and
that its origin must have been wholly different from that of the other
three. Yet in those portions which cover common ground with the Synoptics
we meet with phenomena of a similar order, all proving that there must
have been a narrative in existence which had impressed itself indelibly on
the mind of the Church; so much so that an entirely independent writer
fell into the same mode of expression when his subject led him to narrate
incidents common to the other three.

Every consideration which can be brought to bear on this subject tends to
prove the existence of a traditionary narrative of the actions and
teaching of Jesus which was handed down in the Churches prior to the
publication of either of the Synoptic Gospels, and that their common
matter must have passed through a period of oral transmission. It follows
therefore that our three Synoptics are three different versions of the
same oral Gospel modified in the course of transmission and supplemented
by additional information introduced by their respective authors. We know
as a fact that a traditionary narrative maintained its place in the Church
far into the second century. Papias deliberately expressed his preference
for it as compared with written records; and the writings of other Fathers
show their acquaintance with it.

It is clear therefore that a number of traditionary narratives existed in
the Church; and that if a number of persons had set themselves to reduce
these accounts to writing, they would have presented phenomena analogous
to those of the Synoptic Gospels. I have also shown that these Gospels
present all the phenomena which distinguish this species of narrative. The
substantial agreement of the three, both as to facts and as to the
discourses, is a guarantee that the actual traditions of the Church have
been accurately reported. Their diversities also afford the strongest
proof that these reports were composed in perfect independence of each
other.

It is remarkable that the great majority of those against whom I am
reasoning admit that the discourses in the Synoptic Gospels are fairly
accurate representations of the actual utterances of Jesus, although they
must have passed through a period of oral transmission. Yet it is certain
that the accurate transmission of discourses by oral tradition is far more
difficult than that of a report of facts through the same medium. The
difficulty of preventing the intrusion of foreign elements is much
greater. Slight alterations may materially affect their meaning. Yet the
discourses recorded in the Synoptics bear the indelible impress of a
single mind, that of Jesus Christ.(6) It follows therefore that if the
traditions of the Church were able to hand down accurately the discourses
of our Lord until the time when they were reduced to writing, still more
easily would they transmit a correct account of His acts as narrated by
His original followers. Except on account of the antecedent difficulty
with which the miraculous element in the narrative is supposed to be
attended, it would be absurd to accept the one and to reject the other as
mere legendary invention. But having once established the fact of the
Resurrection, the antecedent difficulty of the miracles is effectually
disposed of, and the facts resume their place in history.

It forms no objection to the general argument that some of the Synoptics
contain narratives of considerable length, which are omitted by others. It
was precisely what was to be expected that the traditionary accounts would
vary in this respect, and have incidents reported by different witnesses
of our Lord’s ministry incorporated into them. They abound in the Gospel
of St. Luke, who distinctly states that it is a compilation.

A careful study of the Gospel of St. Matthew must lead to the conclusion
that its narrative portions are derived from the same general sources as
those of the other two. We find in it precisely the same verbal identities
which have been already noticed as affording proof of the existence of a
common source of information, and the same variations which prove that it
must have passed through a period of oral transmission. Nor are the
indications of autoptic testimony stronger in Matthew than in the other
two Evangelists; in fact, they are less so than in Mark. The discourses in
Matthew, viewed as a whole, are a far more complete collection of the
sayings of our Lord, than those in Mark or Luke. It seems to have been one
of the chief purposes of the author of this Gospel to make a collection of
them, and to unite them by a brief narrative of events. But even in the
discourses, some of the variations found in Mark and Luke possess stronger
claims to be regarded as the original form of the utterances of our Lord,
than the corresponding ones in Matthew. In the parts which are common to
the Synoptics, they are evidently founded on one common source of
information; and in this respect neither of them can put in a higher claim
to originality than the other.

Such are some of the chief characteristics of these Gospels, which have
the most intimate bearing on their claims to be regarded as genuine
historical productions. They are accounts of the traditions of the Church
respecting the life and teaching of its Founder at the time when they were
composed. I have already shown, that if they were composed at any time
between the ministry of Jesus Christ and the first twenty years of the
second century, it would have been impossible to have substituted a
legendary narrative for the account which was handed down in the Church. I
am not concerned to prove that no inaccuracies could have crept into these
traditionary accounts. The only question of the smallest importance is,
are they substantially historical? On this question mere minor details,
the order and arrangement of events, or even the introduction of two or
three erroneous accounts, has no more bearing than it has on the general
credit of other histories. Our question is, what is their value as sources
of history? This must be kept perfectly distinct from the question as to
the nature and extent of the inspiration of the writers.

With respect to a large number of alleged discrepancies, their whole force
as objections to the historical character of the Gospels is disposed of by
the simple consideration that their authors assert them to be memoirs, and
not histories. No small number of others can be shown to exist only in the
imagination of those who allege them. A few real difficulties will
probably remain; but these no more invalidate their historical character,
than similar ones which are to be found in every writer “from Herodotus to
Mr. Froude.”

It must not be forgotten that a careful examination of the Gospels
discloses a mass of additional evidence on this subject which is
inconsistent with the idea that their narratives are a mere congeries of
legendary inventions. It would be impossible to investigate it in a work
like the present, or even to give an idea of its value, as shown in the
intimate acquaintance of the authors with the events, ideas, customs, and
general circumstances of the times. To compose such stories out of any
materials which could have been at his hand at the beginning of the second
century, supposing him to have been devoid of all personal knowledge on
the subject, would defy any modern writer of fiction, even one possessed
of the highest genius; not to speak of the incompetence of the ancient
world in this class of literature, rendering the attempts of such writers
as existed among the early Christians simply hopeless.

There are two additional points to which I must draw attention here, in
the internal structure of the Gospels, as establishing their historical
character.

The strongest evidence which the Gospels afford of their being historical
narratives is the unquestionable fact that they contain a delineation of
the greatest of all characters, Jesus Christ our Lord. This character is
there depicted, even in the opinion of unbelievers of the greatest
eminence, with a matchless perfection. Why will they not grapple with the
question of its origin, and show how it is possible that such a character
should ever have found a place in the Gospels, on any theory which they
have propounded to account for their origin? It does not originate in any
formal sketch or delineation. This the Evangelists have nowhere given. It
is the combined result of all the facts and the discourses which they
contain. The whole subject matter of the Gospels is in fact the material
out of which this great character is delineated. How came it there if the
Gospels consist only of a mass of mythic and legendary stories which
gradually accumulated in the Church? How is it possible that a bundle of
legends thus thrown together can have created the perfect character of
Jesus Christ, forming, as it does, an harmonious whole? How has it come to
pass that the authors of our Gospels, if they each composed their
narratives from a mass of fictions which grew up during a period of
seventy years, have each given us a delineation of the same Jesus? These
are problems which have an intimate bearing on the question whether they
belong to the order of historical or fictitious compositions, but with
which unbelief has hitherto most prudently declined to grapple. I shall
not pursue them further here, as I have discussed them fully in the work
already referred to, and shown that the portraiture of Jesus Christ as
delineated in our Gospels is inconsistent with any theory of their origin
which has been propounded by our opponents. To this work I must refer the
reader.

But there is a second character which is harmoniously delineated in the
Gospels, to which I have not alluded in the work above referred to, that
of Simon Peter. This character, though a subordinate one, is also a
perfect delineation of its kind, instinct with historic life. It differs
from that of Jesus Christ in being that of a purely human character,
possessed of many of the virtues and not a few of the frailties of
ordinary human nature. No student of the Gospels can rise from their
perusal without a lively conception of it. If they are historical, the
account of the origin of this second character of which they present us so
perfect a delineation is a very simple one. It is that of a genuine man,
whose actions they have correctly recorded. But if the Gospels are such as
my opponents affirm them to be, I must earnestly put to them the question,
How came this character there also? Each Gospel presents us with a
delineation of Peter. In each the same living man is before us, in all his
virtues and in all his failings. How, I ask, is it possible that the
author of each Gospel has succeeded in creating a character of Simon
Peter—each true to nature and each manifestly a delineation of the same
person—out of a number of fictions, myths, and legends? Can any one affirm
that the Peter of the Gospels presents us with one single trait of a
character formed by legend?

But the existence of this delineation in each of the Gospels involves
those with whom I am reasoning in a yet further difficulty. The New
Testament contains a fifth delineation of the character of Simon Peter,
professedly drawn by himself. I allude to his first Epistle. This
unbelievers say is not his genuine production, though the external
evidence for it is strong. In either case it will be equally available for
my argument. If it was written by him, it is separated by an interval of
from thirty to forty years from the Peter of the Gospels. After such a
period of time we ought to find the same substantial lineaments of
character, but chastened, improved, and softened by the influence of
Christianity. This is precisely what we do find. The Peter of the Epistle
is the Peter of the Gospels, in all the substantial elements of his
character, but raised to a greater moral elevation. The Peter of the
Gospels is the Peter of youthful aspirations, who has had little
experience of the trials and struggles of human life. The Peter of the
Epistle while continually reminding us of the Peter of the Gospels, is a
deeply softened man, with many of his infirmities changed into the graces
to which they are allied.

Now if the four Peters of the Gospels are fictions, how have their
inventors succeeded in delineating him true to his youthful character, and
true to human nature? If, on the other hand, the Peters of the Gospels and
of the Epistle are all five creations of the imagination, the difficulty
is increased to impossibility. How was it possible for the forger of the
Epistle to have delineated a Peter who should be true to the legendary
character of the Peter of the Gospels, and at the same time such an
improved version of it as would naturally result from the trials of
between thirty and forty years spent in the service and in attempts to put
in practice the teaching of his Master? It follows, therefore, that the
five portraitures of Simon Peter presented us in the New Testament, are so
many distinctive proofs that the Gospels are historical realities, and not
the mere offspring of the imaginations of their respective authors.

I am now in a position to restore the Gospels to their place in history,
and to estimate the value of their testimony. The Synoptics are so many
versions of the traditions, preserved in the different Churches during the
first century, of that portion of the life and teaching of Jesus which
formed the groundwork of Christianity. Such an account, more or less full,
must have been handed down from the first origin of the Church. This
account received enlargements from different narrators who had been
witnesses of different events of our Lord’s life and ministry; but so
completely was it interwoven with the daily course of Christian life, that
it is impossible that matters inconsistent with its fundamental conception
can have become incorporated with it. Moreover, the whole period lay
within the limits of time during which traditions are strictly historical.
No community ever existed which had equal facilities for handing down
accurately the events of its Founder’s life, or had stronger inducements
to do so. The Church was struggling for existence, and seeking to
assimilate to itself the elements by which it was surrounded. This alone
must have kept steadily in its memory the leading events of the life of
Jesus. These, as we have seen, must also have formed the subjects in which
its converts were habitually instructed. Jesus Christ, to use the
expressive language of St. Paul, must have been to the primitive Christian
community from the hour of its birth “all and in all.”

From the various direct and indirect references in St. Paul’s Epistles we
can form a general idea of the life and teaching of Jesus, as it must have
been accepted by the Churches to which he wrote. All the outlines
furnished by these Epistles may be traced in our present Gospels. If we
descend to a still later period, we shall find that accounts,
substantially the same, were spread over the entire Church. Even if it is
true that the early Ecclesiastical writers do not cite the Gospels, it is
evident that they were in possession of accounts, either written or
unwritten, which were for all practical purposes the same. It follows,
therefore, that as the Synoptics contain three versions of the ministry of
Jesus which were handed down by the Churches of the first century, their
claim to the character of historical documents substantially accurate in
all their main features is unquestionable.

Nothing is more lamentable than the manner in which a number of minute
verbal questions have been introduced into this great controversy. Both
parties have freely indulged in it. The life of Christianity has been made
to depend on whether some passage in a particular Father bears a precise
verbal agreement with another passage to be found in our present Gospels.
Such matters may be interesting as mere literary questions, but surely
they are not worthy to be dignified by the title of historical ones. To
represent the life of Christianity as depending on them, is to leave the
broad basis of historical investigation, and descend to the mere
technicalities of legal evidence, by which the parties who are most
capable of throwing light on the case are excluded from giving evidence at
all, while many minor points are debated with the utmost ardour. I desire
to express no opinion as to whether this is right or wrong in judicial
processes; but the principles of history are widely different. All
evidence must be accepted for what it is worth, and for no more. The
issues are great ones, and are not dependent on any mere set of barren
technicalities.

Christianity is not only one of the greatest facts in history, but the
greatest; and its truth or falsehood can never be dependent on whether a
passage more or less in Justin Martyr is an accurate citation of another
in St. Matthew’s Gospel. The only questions of real importance are: Do the
numerous references of the early Christian writers to the life and
teaching of Jesus Christ substantially agree with the accounts of that
life and teaching given in our Gospels? Do they contain any account which
gives a really different version of it? If such agreement exists, although
there may be minor differences, the matter is settled as an historical
question. The Gospels, in all their great outlines, are virtually accurate
accounts of the traditions of the primitive Church respecting the actions
and the teaching of its Founder, and as such they satisfy all the
conditions of history.

It is impossible that I should in this place enter on the question of the
authorship or the date of the Fourth Gospel. The literature on this
subject would fill a library of no mean size. I shall only refer to Mr.
Sanday’s able vindication of its historical character. One thing
respecting it is clear. It is either the veritable work of an eye‐witness
of the facts which it records, or it is a consummate fiction, such as can
be found nowhere else, either in the ancient or the modern world. Its
author must have united a fixed determination to perpetrate a forgery on a
most sacred subject, with one of the loftiest ideals of morality, and an
inimitable power of simple description, and of inventing fictitious scenes
in a manner which is in the highest degree true to human nature. If this
work was really written by a person who was not a Jew, one hundred and
fifty years after the events which are described in it, and a century
after the destruction of Jerusalem, the accuracy of its descriptions is
one of the most singular phenomena in literary history. Wherever it runs
parallel with the Synoptic Gospels, it throws light on their obscurities
without the smallest apparent intention of doing so. In some places it
helps to correct erroneous impressions into which the reader of the
Synoptic narratives might otherwise have fallen. Even in that most
striking disagreement between them, respecting the Paschal character of
the Last Supper, we find in the Synoptics hints which corroborate St.
John’s account of it. One simple alternative, and one only, lies before
us; either to accept this Gospel as a history of the highest authority, or
to reject it as an audacious forgery.

It now remains for me very briefly to consider the value of the testimony
of the Gospels to the truth of the Resurrection.

If one thing more than another is evident respecting them, it is that they
were not written for the purposes of controversy with unbelievers, but for
the instruction of Christians. It is certain that the last thing which
occurred to their authors was to guard their narratives against possible
objections. This is made clear by every page. At the time when they were
composed, the Resurrection had long been accepted by the entire body of
believers, as the foundation of their faith. It was therefore not
necessary for the Gospels to prove it, as it would have been if they had
been composed with a direct view to unbelievers. This is a point which it
is important to bear in mind in considering the nature of their testimony.
Two of the narratives of it are entirely incidental; and it is quite clear
that their authors never intended to give an exhaustive account of the
facts. The other two, though giving us more details, participate largely
in the same character. It is impossible to read either narrative with care
and not feel that it was never intended to be a systematic account of all
the facts with which the author was acquainted respecting the
Resurrection.

It is objected against these narratives that they abound with variations,
amounting to contradictions. The variations are unquestionable, and it
will readily be conceded that it is extremely difficult to piece together
all the details of the existing accounts so as to weave them into an
harmonious whole. In fact they are inevitable whenever the incidents
described are of exciting interest. Such must have been the character of
those connected with the Resurrection.

The chief difficulty is found in the details of the morning of that
important day. They are in an extremely fragmentary form, and it is quite
clear that we have not all the events before us. If we had, we should then
be in a position to judge what is the precise nature of the variations in
the minor details. But even if contradictions could be proved to exist,
how does their presence invalidate the main facts, whose truth is
established by wholly independent testimony? The only way in which it can
be made to do so is by mixing up questions involving particular theories
of inspiration with considerations purely historical. Such discrepancies
exist in connection with some of the most important facts of history in
their minor details, without in the smallest degree invalidating their
historical credibility.

This may be easily tested by examining a number of newspaper accounts of
any exciting event, which are derived from reporters entirely independent
of each other. One witnesses one thing, and one another; and it is often
difficult to weave the whole into a perfectly consistent narrative. No one
can doubt that the morning of the Resurrection must have been one in the
last degree exciting to the disciples of our Lord. They were not mere
reporters, but persons profoundly interested in the various occurrences.
It would therefore have been inconsistent with the historical truth of
their position, if their narratives had presented us with no variations.

It is certain that several women accompanied our Lord on His last journey
to Jerusalem. What was more likely than that they would visit the
sepulchre at different times, and with different purposes? Can any one
doubt that their excitement must have been great? What conceivable
difference can it make to the great fact of the Resurrection, that one
account mentions two Marys as going to the sepulchre; that the second adds
to these Salome; that the third mentions several women; and that the
fourth mentions Mary Magdalene alone? There might have been, as far as
anything which appears in the narratives is concerned, several different
visits; or the same person may have returned more than once. Or what is
the use of urging that there is an apparent variation of about an hour
between the different accounts, as to the precise time when these visits
were made? Do variations of this description, which are found in accounts
derived from eye‐witnesses of Louis XVI’s flight from Paris, in the
smallest degree invalidate the fact? Or what conceivable difference does
it make that one narrative represents the women as seeing one angel, and
another two; and that one describes the appearance as taking place inside,
and another outside the sepulchre? It is quite possible that all these
accounts may be true, and that these occurrences took place on different
occasions. If they were true, nothing was more unlikely than that the
women could have given an orderly narrative of them. Variations must occur
in all reports of events when the witnesses see only a portion of them.
The great facts before us are plain and evident; and unless they are
falsehoods, there could be no possibility of mistake respecting them.
Different bodies of women found the sepulchre empty. Some of them affirmed
that they had seen Jesus risen from the dead, and that He sent a message
by them to His disciples. Peter and John visited the sepulchre, and found
it empty. Later in the same day, Peter affirmed that Jesus Christ appeared
to him; on which day also two other disciples affirmed that they had seen
Him on a journey, at first without recognizing Him, but that they did so
afterwards. On the evening of the same day, these two disciples, ten of
the Apostles, with other persons in company, saw Him in a body, and were
permitted to test the reality of His Resurrection by handling His Person,
and by seeing Him eat. About such facts there could be no mistake. Most of
them were well known and accepted when St. Paul wrote his Epistles, when
the means of testing their truth was ample. We know on the same authority
that the whole apostolic body asserted that they had seen the Lord, and
that as many as five hundred other persons made a similar assertion. These
are the chief facts, and a number of minor variations such as those above
referred to cannot affect their credibility.

It has been objected that the author of St. Matthew’s Gospel was ignorant
of some of these appearances. On what ground is the objection made? On the
fact that he has not mentioned them? Does a writer always report all he
knows, especially when his writing is intended for the use of those who
firmly believe the fact already? Nothing can exceed the fragmentary
character of this portion of his narrative. If this Gospel was composed at
the late period assigned to it by those against whom I am reasoning,
namely, A.D. 90, it is incredible that these were the only facts known to
the writer, at least thirty years after St. Paul wrote his Epistles. The
charge of ignorance might be sustained with far greater plausibility if it
were admitted that St. Matthew was the author of this Gospel, because it
might have been expected that he would mention the first occasion on which
his Master had appeared to him rather than the third. But his authorship
is denied, and the publication of the Gospel assigned to the last ten
years of the century, when it was impossible that the author, whoever he
may have been, could be ignorant that it was alleged that our Lord had
appeared on other occasions besides those mentioned by him.

I will now consider the threefold account of the great appearance on the
morning of Easter‐day. One of them is contained in the supplement to St.
Mark’s Gospel; the other two are those in Luke and John. Let us first
carefully observe the mode in which they are narrated in the supplement.

Its author seems to have entertained a stronger view of the indisposition
of the disciples to believe the truth of the Resurrection than the other
two narratives appear to warrant. He first notices the appearance to Mary
Magdalene on the morning of that day, and says that the disciples refused
to credit her report. Next, he tells us of the appearance to the two
disciples as they went into the country; and states that on their return
they told it to the remainder, “_Neither believed __ they them._”
“Afterward,” he adds, “he appeared _to the eleven as they sat at meat, and
upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they
believed not those who had seen him after he was risen_.” It is evident
that the author of the supplement entertained a strong view of the
incredulity of the disciples when their companions reported to them the
fact of the Resurrection.

Let us now examine how the facts stand in Luke’s narrative. It opens with
a detailed account of the journey into the country of Cleopas and his
companion, and of our Lord’s appearance to them. Our Lord addresses them
in the following words: “_O fools and slow of heart,_” (Ω ἀνόητοι, καὶ
Βραδεῖς τῇ καρδίᾳ) “_to believe all that the prophets have spoken._” After
their recognition of Jesus, they are described as immediately returning to
Jerusalem, “_and find the eleven gathered together and those that were
with them, saying, the Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared unto
Simon._” “_And they_” (_i.e._ Cleopas and his companion) “_told what
things were done on the way, and how he was known unto them in the
breaking of bread._” The narrative then proceeds: “_And as they thus
spake,_” (_i.e._ Cleopas and his companion) “_Jesus himself stood in the
midst of them, and said unto them, Peace be unto you._” It then informs us
that they were terrified and supposed that the appearance was that of a
spirit. On this our Lord reasons with them: “_Why are ye troubled, and why
do thoughts arise in your hearts? Behold my hands and my feet that it is I
myself, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye see me have. And when
he had thus spoken, he showed them his hands and his feet._” The writer
then adds: “And when they yet believed not for joy and wondered, he said
unto them, Have ye here any meat? And they gave him a piece of a broiled
fish, and of an honey‐comb, and he took it and did eat before them.” The
author then proceeds with his narrative: “These are the words that I spake
unto you, while I was yet with you, that all things might be fulfilled
that are written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets and in the
Psalms concerning me.” And he adds: “_Then opened he their understanding,
that they might understand the Scriptures._”

The following is the account given of the same meeting in St. John’s
Gospel. After having given a full description of the appearance to Mary
Magdalene, he thus describes our Lord’s appearance on the evening of
Easter‐day: “Then the first day at evening, being the first day of the
week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear
of the Jews, _came Jesus and stood in the midst, and said unto them, Peace
be unto you. And when he had so said, he showed them his hands and his
side._ Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord. _Then said
Jesus unto them again, Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even
so send I you. And when he had said this he breathed on them, and said,
Receive ye the Holy Ghost._”

The difference between the supplement of Mark’s Gospel and the narratives
of Luke and John is very remarkable. Are the variations such as would be
found in different reports of a set of fictions, or are they such as
distinguish brief but inexact reports of actual occurrences? This is a
very important question.

First: the three accounts bear the clearest indications of being
independent. It is incredible that any one of the three writers having
before him one or both of the other two accounts should have composed his
own as it now stands.

Secondly: the author of the supplement uses very strong language in
describing the unbelief of the disciples. He says that when they told it
to the others, they did not believe their report. St. Luke, on the other
hand, informs us that as soon as Cleopas and his companion entered the
room where on their return they found the Apostles and others assembled
together, they were received with the exclamation: “_The Lord is risen
indeed, and hath appeared unto Simon._”

Again: the author of the supplement says that when Jesus appeared to the
eleven as they sat at meat “_he upbraided them with their unbelief and
hardness of heart_ (ὠνείδισε τὴν ἀπιστίαν αὐτῶν καὶ σκληροκαρδίαν)
_because they did not believe them that had seen him after he was risen._”
St. Luke tells us that not only were Cleopas and his companion received
with the joyful exclamation, “_The Lord is risen indeed_,” but instead of
upbraiding them Jesus addressed them with the words “_Peace be unto you_;”
which is confirmed by the author of the fourth Gospel, who, if St. John
was really the author, must have been present. In neither of these Gospels
is there one word of “upbraiding the disciples with unbelief;” while both
affirm that Jesus proceeded to give them rational grounds for believing
that He was actually risen from the dead, by showing them, according to
one, “his hands and his feet,” according to the other, “his hands and his
side.” It is quite probable that He may have done both. St. John adds,
“_Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord._”

But St. Luke’s account is more specific. He tells us that immediately on
His entry fear took possession of their minds. “_They were terrified and
affrighted_,” and supposed that it might be a spirit, and not Jesus
actually raised from the dead. Our Lord therefore before showing them His
hands and His feet proceeded to reason with them as to the reality of His
appearance. “_Handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones __
as ye see me have._” Here there is nothing of reproach, such as is
suggested by the supplement to St. Mark’s Gospel. Yet there was
incredulity of a certain kind in the room, but not one which was worthy of
reproach. We learn from St. Luke that it was not the incredulity of
_unbelief, but of joy_; in other words, that the news seemed too good to
be true, and they dared scarcely trust the evidence of their senses. On
this however nothing in the form of a _reproach_ passes the lips of Jesus;
but for their further satisfaction, _he asks for food and eats it before
them_.

On all these points the narratives of St. Luke and St. John throw light on
each other, as such accounts, if founded on fact, ought to do, while their
independence is indisputable. According to those with whom I am reasoning,
the Gospel of St. John is much the latest written. If therefore the author
had borrowed from Luke, it is incredible that a writer who had such powers
of setting forth fictions in the garb of facts, should have omitted the
other remarkable incidents mentioned by St. Luke, and not have dressed
them up with the art of which he was so consummate a master, for these
would have communicated a striking reality to the scenes. It is therefore
unquestionable that these two accounts present all the phenomena of
history, and none of those of fiction.

But how stands the continuation of St. Mark’s Gospel, which affirms that
our Lord upbraided the eleven with their unbelief and hardness of heart on
the occasion of His appearance on Easter evening?

The author of the supplement was probably not aware that Cleopas and his
companion were present in the room when our Lord appeared to the eleven,
or even that others besides the eleven were present, as is expressly
affirmed by St. Luke to have been the case. The impression which it leaves
on the mind is that they reported the Resurrection to the disciples
generally on their return, and that it was disbelieved by them, and that
the appearance to the eleven was a subsequent event.

We are now in a position to see how this misapprehension may have
originated; and that instead of invalidating the account, it forms a
strong confirmation of its truth. There were persons in the room whom our
Lord had actually reproached for their unbelief, viz. Cleopas and his
companion; though He reproached none who were present on the occasion of
His appearance. The words stated by St. Luke to have been used by Him
were, Ω ἀνόητοι καὶ Βραδεῖς τῇ καρδίᾳ, “O fools and slow of heart.” Those
used in St. Mark in describing the address to the eleven are ὠνείδισε τὴν
ἀπιστίαν αὐτῶν καὶ σκληροκαρδίαν, “He upbraided their unbelief and
hardness of heart.” The one expression is the very counterpart of the
other. There were persons present who had been thus reproached but a few
hours before: the author of the continuation was aware of the fact that
some had been thus reproached, and he supposed that the reproach was
addressed to all the assembled disciples, instead of the salutation of
peace with its attendant circumstances.

Then as to their having been received with expressions of incredulity on
their return, St. Luke tells us that they returned to Jerusalem, “_and
found the eleven gathered together, and them that were with them._” Now as
they had set out early in the day, it was necessary on their return that
they should make some inquiry as to where the Apostles were to be found.
In doing this it is probable enough that they went to inquire of some
disciples who received their account with incredulity, and that then this
incredulity may through misapprehension have been transferred to the whole
assembly. I submit therefore that notwithstanding this disagreement
between the three accounts, that of the continuation of St. Mark’s Gospel
gives a strong corroboration of the statements of the other two. These are
precisely the kind of variations which we find in reports of events after
they have passed through a few stages of oral transmission.

The narratives of St. Luke and St. John furnish us with one more very
incidental confirmation of each other. St. Luke informs us that on the
occasion of this interview our Lord “_opened their understanding, that
they might understand the Scriptures._” St. John says that “_He breathed
on them, and said, Receive ye the Holy Ghost._” The words and the mode of
expression differ greatly; but both statements point to one and the same
fact, that on this occasion the persons present supposed that they
received a supernatural enlightenment. St. Luke describes the effect
produced on the minds of the disciples; St. John gives the actual medium
of its production. Coincidences of this kind prove that the narratives
must be founded on facts, and are beyond the skill of a forger to imitate.

I have now considered a few of the leading features of the Gospels, which
establish the general historical character of their contents. A close
examination of them would put us in possession of a large amount of
additional evidence, but to enter on such an inquiry here would be
inconsistent with the limits of the present work. As I have already
observed, the minute scrutiny of a number of minor details, as far as the
great historical question is concerned, would be a needless expenditure of
labour. The real question at issue is: Is the account of our Lord’s life
and teaching, as it is handed down in our present Gospels, substantially
true in its great outlines, or has one of a wholly different character
been substituted for the true one, and usurped its place in the teaching
of the Church? On a broad question of this kind, minor discrepancies in
the accounts have no real bearing. If the narrative is true in its great
outlines, it follows that our Lord’s character must have been beyond all
question superhuman, and justifies us in affirming that He must have been
a “teacher come from God.” Such a conclusion will still leave open a
number of questions of the deepest importance, but they belong to the
province of theology to investigate, and form no necessary portion of an
historical inquiry. If the Gospels _in their broad outlines_ are
historical; above all, _if Jesus Christ rose from the dead_, it follows
that the New Testament must contain a divine revelation.

As this last fact forms the central position of Christianity, I have made
its historical truth the chief subject of my investigation. In doing this
I have relied only on documents which are contained in the New Testament
itself, and chiefly on those whose genuineness is conceded by opponents. I
have shown that no species of documents can possess a higher historical
value than these, and that the circumstances under which they were
written, the nature of their contents, and the persons to whom they were
addressed, form an attestation to the truth of the facts asserted in them,
which is unrivalled in the whole course of literature. By means of these I
have firmly established the fact that the belief in the Resurrection of
Jesus Christ was the foundation on which the Church rested as a community
from the first dawning of its existence, and the basis of the life of its
individual members; and that considerable numbers of the followers of
Jesus Christ affirmed that they had seen and conversed with Him after He
had risen from the dead. I have shown that these facts rest on the highest
form of historical attestation. This being so, there can be only two
alternatives respecting them. Either the belief in the Resurrection was
founded on the fact that He actually rose from the dead; or it must have
originated in the delusions of His followers. I have shown that the
various theories which have been propounded to account for it on the
latter supposition, when tested by the actual facts, are untrue both to
human nature and to the possibilities of the case. From this it results,
as a necessary consequence, that JESUS CHRIST ROSE FROM THE DEAD. If He
rose from the dead, the truth of His divine mission is established, and
His claim to be the King and supreme Legislator of the Church is
vindicated. This claim may be fully set forth in two sayings of His own,
recorded in St. John’s Gospel: “I am the light of the world; he that
followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of
life.” (xiii. 12.) “Thou sayest that I am a king. For this end was I born,
and for this cause came I into the world, that I should bear witness unto
the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.” (xviii. 37.)

The practical conclusion which this investigation suggests cannot be
better expressed than in the words of the same divine Teacher: “He that
believeth, believeth not on me, but on Him that sent me; and he that seeth
me seeth Him that sent me. I am come, a light into the world, that
whosoever believeth on me should not abide in darkness. And if any man
hear my words, and believe not, I judge him not; for I came not to judge
the world, but to save the world. He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not
my words, hath one that judgeth him; the word that I have spoken, the same
shall judge him in the last day.”

THE END.






FOOTNOTES


    1 My quotations throughout this work are taken from the first edition.
      The passage here quoted is somewhat altered in the third edition,
      but not so as to affect the general meaning.

    2 The word which is here translated in the A. V. “miracles” is in the
      original σημεῖα.

    3 J. S. Mill, in his recently published essays, considers this the
      most formidable objection against theism.

    4 See for example, Matt. v. 39‐42, Luke vi. 20, 21, 24‐26, and various
      others of a similar description.

    5 “The Jesus of the Evangelists.”

    6 Mr. Mill, in his recently published Essay on Theism, has strongly
      expressed his belief that these discourses are the veritable
      utterances of Jesus.