The sorrows of life necessary to soften and humanize the heart -
The excitement of social sympathy often produce characters of a
higher order than the mere possessors of talents - Moral evil
probably necessary to the production of moral excellence -
Excitements from intellectual wants continually kept up by the
infinite variety of nature, and the obscurity that involves
metaphysical subjects - The difficulties in revelation to be
accounted for upon this principle - The degree of evidence which
the scriptures contain, probably, best suited to the improvements
of the human faculties, and the moral amerlioration of mankind -
The idea that mind is created by excitements seems to account for
the existence of natural and moral evil.
THE sorrows and distresses of life form another class of
excitements, which seem to be necessary, by a peculiar train of
impressions, to soften and humanize the heart, to awaken social
sympathy, to generate all the Christian virtues, and to afford
scope for the ample exertion of benevolence. The general tendency
of an uniform course of prosperity is rather to degrade than
exalt the character. The heart that has never known sorrow itself
will seldom be feelingly alive to the pains and pleasures, the
wants and wishes, of its fellow beings. It will seldom be
overflowing with that warmth of brotherly love, those kind and
amiable affections, which dignify the human character even more
than the possession of the highest talents. Talents, indeed,
though undoubtedly a very prominent and fine feature of mind, can
by no means be considered as constituting the whole of it. There
are many minds which have not been exposed to those excitements
that usually form talents, that have yet been vivified to a high
degree by the excitements of social sympathy. In every rank of
life, in the lowest as frequently as in the highest, characters
are to be found overflowing with the milk of human kindness,
breathing love towards God and man, and, though without those
peculiar powers of mind called talents, evidently holding a
higher rank in the scale of beings than many who possess them.
Evangelical charity, meekness, piety, and all that class of
virtues distinguished particularly by the name of Christian
virtues do not seem necessarily to include abilities; yet a soul
possessed of these amiable qualities, a soul awakened and
vivified by these delightful sympathies, seems to hold a nearer
commerce with the skies than mere acuteness of intellect.
The greatest talents have been frequently misapplied and have
produced evil proportionate to the extent of their powers. Both
reason and revelation seem to assure us that such minds will be
condemned to eternal death, but while on earth, these vicious
instruments performed their part in the great mass of
impressions, by the disgust and abhorrence which they excited. It
seems highly probable that moral evil is absolutely necessary to
the production of moral excellence. A being with only good placed
in view may be justly said to be impelled by a blind necessity.
The pursuit of good in this case can be no indication of virtuous
propensities. It might be said, perhaps, that infinite Wisdom
cannot want such an indication as outward action, but would
foreknow with certainly whether the being would choose good or
evil. This might be a plausible argument against a state of
trial, but will not hold against the supposition that mind in
this world is in a state of formation. Upon this idea, the being
that has seen moral evil and has felt disapprobation and disgust
at it is essentially different from the being that has seen only
good. They are pieces of clay that have received distinct
impressions: they must, therefore, necessarily be in different
shapes; or, even if we allow them both to have the same lovely
form of virtue, it must be acknowledged that one has undergone
the further process, necessary to give firmness and durability to
its substance, while the other is still exposed to injury, and
liable to be broken by every accidental impulse. An ardent love
and admiration of virtue seems to imply the existence of
something opposite to it, and it seems highly probable that the
same beauty of form and substance, the same perfection of
character, could not be generated without the impressions of
disapprobation which arise from the spectacle of moral evil.
When the mind has been awakened into activity by the
passions, and the wants of the body, intellectual wants arise;
and the desire of knowledge, and the impatience under ignorance,
form a new and important class of excitements. Every part of
nature seems peculiarly calculated to furnish stimulants to
mental exertion of this kind, and to offer inexhaustible food for
the most unremitted inquiry. Our mortal Bard says of Cleopatra:
Custom cannot stale
Her infinite variety.
The expression, when applied to any one object, may be considered
as a poetical amplification, but it is accurately true when
applied to nature. Infinite variety seems, indeed, eminently her
characteristic feature. The shades that are here and there
blended in the picture give spirit, life, and prominence to her
exuberant beauties, and those roughnesses and inequalities, those
inferior parts that support the superior, though they sometimes
offend the fastidious microscopic eye of short-sighted man,
contribute to the symmetry, grace, and fair proportion of the
whole.
The infinite variety of the forms and operations of nature,
besides tending immediately to awaken and improve the mind by the
variety of impressions that it creates, opens other fertile
sources of improvement by offering so wide and extensive a field
for investigation and research. Uniform, undiversified perfection
could not possess the same awakening powers. When we endeavour
then to contemplate the system of the universe, when we think of
the stars as the suns of other systems scattered throughout
infinite space, when we reflect that we do not probably see a
millionth part of those bright orbs that are beaming light and
life to unnumbered worlds, when our minds, unable to grasp the
immeasurable conception, sink, lost and confounded, in admiration
at the mighty incomprehensible power of the Creator, let us not
querulously complain that all climates are not equally genial,
that perpetual spring does not reign throughout the year, that it
God's creatures do not possess the same advantages, that clouds
and tempests sometimes darken the natural world and vice and
misery the moral world, and that all the works of the creation
are not formed with equal perfection. Both reason and experience
seem to indicate to us that the infinite variety of nature (and
variety cannot exist without inferior parts, or apparent
blemishes) is admirably adapted to further the high purpose of
the creation and to produce the greatest possible quantity of
good.
The obscurity that involves all metaphysical subjects appears
to me, in the same manner, peculiarly calculated to add to that
class of excitements which arise from the thirst of knowledge. It
is probable that man, while on earth, will never be able to
attain complete satisfaction on these subjects; but this is by no
means a reason that he should not engage in them. The darkness
that surrounds these interesting topics of human curiosity may be
intended to furnish endless motives to intellectual activity and
exertion. The constant effort to dispel this darkness, even if it
fail of success, invigorates and improves the thinking faculty.
If the subjects of human inquiry were once exhausted, mind would
probably stagnate; but the infinitely diversified forms and
operations of nature, together with the endless food for
speculation which metaphysical subjects offer, prevent the
possibility that such a period should ever arrive.
It is by no means one of the wisest sayings of Solomon that
'there is no new thing under the sun.' On the contrary, it is
probable that were the present system to continue for millions of
years, continual additions would be making to the mass of human
knowledge, and yet, perhaps, it may be a matter of doubt whether
what may be called the capacity of mind be in any marked and
decided manner increasing. A Socrates, a Plato, or an Aristotle,
however confessedly inferior in knowledge to the philosophers of
the present day, do not appear to have been much below them in
intellectual capacity. Intellect rises from a speck, continues in
vigour only for a certain period, and will not perhaps admit
while on earth of above a certain number of impressions. These
impressions may, indeed, be infinitely modified, and from these
various modifications, added probably to a difference in the
susceptibility of the original germs, arise the endless diversity
of character that we see in the world; but reason and experience
seem both to assure us that the capacity of individual minds does
not increase in proportion to the mass of existing knowledge. (It
is probable that no two grains of wheat are exactly alike. Soil
undoubtedly makes the principal difference in the blades that
spring up, but probably not all. It seems natural to suppose some
sort of difference in the original germs that are afterwards
awakened into thought, and the extraordinary difference of
susceptibility in very young children seems to confirm the
supposition.)
The finest minds seem to be formed rather by efforts at
original thinking, by endeavours to form new combinations, and to
discover new truths, than by passively receiving the impressions
of other men's ideas. Could we suppose the period arrived, when
there was not further hope of future discoveries, and the only
employment of mind was to acquire pre-existing knowledge, without
any efforts to form new and original combinations, though the
mass of human knowledge were a thousand times greater than it is
at present, yet it is evident that one of the noblest stimulants
to mental exertion would have ceased; the finest feature of
intellect would be lost; everything allied to genius would be at
an end; and it appears to be impossible, that, under such
circumstances, any individuals could possess the same
intellectual energies as were possessed by a Locke, a Newton, or
a Shakespeare, or even by a Socrates, a Plato, an Aristotle or a
Homer.
If a revelation from heaven of which no person could feel the
smallest doubt were to dispel the mists that now hang over
metaphysical subjects, were to explain the nature and structure
of mind, the affections and essences of all substances, the mode
in which the Supreme Being operates in the works of the creation,
and the whole plan and scheme of the Universe, such an accession
of knowledge so obtained, instead of giving additional vigour and
activity to the human mind, would in all probability tend to
repress future exertion and to damp the soaring wings of
intellect.
For this reason I have never considered the doubts and
difficulties that involve some parts of the sacred writings as
any ardent against their divine original. The Supreme Being
might, undoubtedly, have accompanied his revelations to man by
such a succession of miracles, and of such a nature, as would
have produced universal overpowering conviction and have put an
end at once to all hesitation and discussion. But weak as our
reason is to comprehend the plans of the great Creator, it is yet
sufficiently strong to see the most striking objections to such a
revelation. From the little we know of the structure of the human
understanding, we must be convinced that an overpowering
conviction of this kind, instead of tending to the improvement
and moral amelioration of man, would act like the touch of a
torpedo on all intellectual exertion and would almost put an end
to the existence of virtue. If the scriptural denunciations of
eternal punishment were brought home with the same certainty to
every man's mind as that the night will follow the day, this one
vast and gloomy idea would take such full possession of the human
faculties as to leave no room for any other conceptions, the
external actions of men would be all nearly alike, virtuous
conduct would be no indication of virtuous disposition, vice and
virtue would be blended together in one common mass, and though
the all-seeing eye of God might distinguish them they must
necessarily make the same impressions on man, who can judge only
from external appearances. Under such a dispensation, it is
difficult to conceive how human beings could be formed to a
detestation of moral evil, and a love and admiration of God, and
of moral excellence.
Our ideas of virtue and vice are not, perhaps, very accurate
and well-defined; but few, I think, would call an action really
virtuous which was performed simply and solely from the dread of
a very great punishment or the expectation of a very great
reward. The fear of the Lord is very justly said to be the
beginning of wisdom, but the end of wisdom is the love of the
Lord and the admiration of moral good. The denunciations of
future punishment contained in the scriptures seem to be well
calculated to arrest the progress of the vicious and awaken the
attention of the careless, but we see from repeated experience
that they are not accompanied with evidence of such a nature as
to overpower the human will and to make men lead virtuous lives
with vicious dispositions, merely from a dread of hereafter. A
genuine faith, by which I mean a faith that shews itself in it
the virtues of a truly Christian life, may generally be
considered as an indication of an amiable and virtuous
disposition, operated upon more by love than by pure unmixed
fear.
When we reflect on the temptations to which man must
necessarily be exposed in this world, from the structure of his
frame, and the operation of the laws of nature, and the
consequent moral certainty that many vessels will come out of
this mighty creative furnace in wrong shapes, it is perfectly
impossible to conceive that any of these creatures of God's hand
can be condemned to eternal suffering. Could we once admit such
an idea, it our natural conceptions of goodness and justice would
be completely overthrown, and we could no longer look up to God
as a merciful and righteous Being. But the doctrine of life and
Mortality which was brought to light by the gospel, the doctrine
that the end of righteousness is everlasting life, but that the
wages of sin are death, is in every respect just and merciful,
and worthy of the great Creator. Nothing can appear more
consonant to our reason than that those beings which come out of
the creative process of the world in lovely and beautiful forms
should be crowned with immortality, while those which come out
misshapen, those whose minds are not suited to a purer and
happier state of existence, should perish and be condemned to mix
again with their original clay. Eternal condemnation of this kind
may be considered as a species of eternal punishment, and it is
not wonderful that it should be represented, sometimes, under
images of suffering. But life and death, salvation and
destruction, are more frequently opposed to each other in the New
Testament than happiness and misery. The Supreme Being would
appear to us in a very different view if we were to consider him
as pursuing the creatures that had offended him with eternal hate
and torture, instead of merely condemning to their original
insensibility those beings that, by the operation of general
laws, had not been formed with qualities suited to a purer state
of happiness.
Life is, generally speaking, a blessing independent of a
future state. It is a gift which the vicious would not always be
ready to throw away, even if they had no fear of death. The
partial pain, therefore, that is inflicted by the supreme
Creator, while he is forming numberless beings to a capacity of
the highest enjoyments, is but as the dust of the balance in
comparison of the happiness that is communicated, and we have
every reason to think that there is no more evil in the world
than what is absolutely necessary as one of the ingredients in
the mighty process.
The striking necessity of general laws for the formation of
intellect will not in any respect be contradicted by one or two
exceptions, and these evidently not intended for partial
purposes, but calculated to operate upon a great part of mankind,
and through many ages. Upon the idea that I have given of the
formation of mind, the infringement of the general law of nature,
by a divine revelation, will appear in the light of the immediate
hand of God mixing new ingredients in the mighty mass, suited to
the particular state of the process, and calculated to give rise
to a new and powerful train of impressions, tending to purify,
exalt, and improve the human mind. The miracles that accompanied
these revelations when they had once excited the attention of
mankind, and rendered it a matter of most interesting discussion,
whether the doctrine was from God or man, had performed their
part, had answered the purpose of the Creator. and these
communications of the divine will were afterwards left to make
their way by their own intrinsic excellence; and, by operating as
moral motives, gradually to influence and improve, and not to
overpower and stagnate the faculties of man.
It would be, undoubtedly, presumptuous to say that the
Supreme Being could not possibly have effected his purpose in any
other way than that which he has chosen, but as the revelation of
the divine will which we possess is attended with some doubts and
difficulties, and as our reason points out to us the strongest
objections to a revelation which would force immediate, implicit,
universal belief, we have surely just cause to think that these
doubts and difficulties are no argument against the divine origin
of the scriptures, and that the species of evidence which they
possess is best suited to the improvement of the human faculties
and the moral amelioration of mankind.
The idea that the impressions and excitements of this world
are the instruments with which the Supreme Being forms matter
into mind, and that the necessity of constant exertion to avoid
evil and to pursue good is the principal spring of these
impressions and excitements, seems to smooth many of the
difficulties that occur in a contemplation of human life, and
appears to me to give a satisfactory reason for the existence of
natural and moral evil, and, consequently, for that part of both,
and it certainly is not a very small part, which arises from the
principle of population. But, though, upon this supposition, it
seems highly improbable that evil should ever be removed from the
world, yet it is evident that this impression would not answer
the apparent purpose of the Creator, it would not act so
powerfully as an excitement to exertion, if the quantity of it
did not diminish or increase with the activity or the indolence
of man. The continual variations in the weight and in the
distribution of this pressure keep alive a constant expectation
of throwing it off.
Hope springs eternal in the Human breast,
Man never is, but always to be blest.
Evil exists in the world not to create despair but activity.
We are not patiently to submit to it, but to exert ourselves to
avoid it. It is not only the interest but the duty of every
individual to use his utmost efforts to remove evil from himself
and from as large a circle as he can influence, and the more he
exercises himself in this duty, the more wisely he directs his
efforts, and the more successful these efforts are, the more he
will probably improve and exalt his own mind and the more
completely does he appear to fulfil the will of his Creator.