"Chidhar, the Prophet ever-youngThus loosed the bridle of his tongue."I journeyed by a goodly Town,Beset with many a garden fair,And asked of one who gathered downLarge fruit, 'how long the Town was thereHe spoke, nor chose his hand to stay,'The town has stood for many a day,And will be here for ever and aye.'"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again."No vestige of that Town I traced,—But one poor swain his horn employed,—His sheep unconscious browsed and grazed,I asked 'when was that Town destroyed?'He spoke, nor would his horn lay by,'One thing may grow and another die,But I know nothing of Towns—not I.'"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again."There in the deep of waters castHis nets one lonely fisherman,And as he drew them up at lastI asked him 'how that Lake began?'He looked at me and laughed to say,'The waters spring for ever and aye,And fish is plenty every day.'"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again."I found a country wild and rude,And, axe in hand, beside a tree,The Hermit of that Solitude,—I asked 'how old that Wood might be?'He spoke, 'I count not time at all,A tree may rise, a tree may fall,The Forest overlives us all,'"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again."And there a glorious City stood,And 'mid tumultuous market-cry,I asked 'Where rose the Town? where WoodPasture and Lake forgotten lie?'They heard me not, and little blame,—For them the world is as it came,And all things must be still the same."A thousand years shall pass, and thenI mean to try that road again."Lord Houghton,after Rückert.
"Chidhar, the Prophet ever-youngThus loosed the bridle of his tongue."I journeyed by a goodly Town,Beset with many a garden fair,And asked of one who gathered downLarge fruit, 'how long the Town was thereHe spoke, nor chose his hand to stay,'The town has stood for many a day,And will be here for ever and aye.'"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again."No vestige of that Town I traced,—But one poor swain his horn employed,—His sheep unconscious browsed and grazed,I asked 'when was that Town destroyed?'He spoke, nor would his horn lay by,'One thing may grow and another die,But I know nothing of Towns—not I.'"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again."There in the deep of waters castHis nets one lonely fisherman,And as he drew them up at lastI asked him 'how that Lake began?'He looked at me and laughed to say,'The waters spring for ever and aye,And fish is plenty every day.'"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again."I found a country wild and rude,And, axe in hand, beside a tree,The Hermit of that Solitude,—I asked 'how old that Wood might be?'He spoke, 'I count not time at all,A tree may rise, a tree may fall,The Forest overlives us all,'"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again."And there a glorious City stood,And 'mid tumultuous market-cry,I asked 'Where rose the Town? where WoodPasture and Lake forgotten lie?'They heard me not, and little blame,—For them the world is as it came,And all things must be still the same."A thousand years shall pass, and thenI mean to try that road again."Lord Houghton,after Rückert.
"Chidhar, the Prophet ever-youngThus loosed the bridle of his tongue.
"Chidhar, the Prophet ever-young
Thus loosed the bridle of his tongue.
"I journeyed by a goodly Town,Beset with many a garden fair,And asked of one who gathered downLarge fruit, 'how long the Town was thereHe spoke, nor chose his hand to stay,'The town has stood for many a day,And will be here for ever and aye.'
"I journeyed by a goodly Town,
Beset with many a garden fair,
And asked of one who gathered down
Large fruit, 'how long the Town was there
He spoke, nor chose his hand to stay,
'The town has stood for many a day,
And will be here for ever and aye.'
"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again.
"A thousand years passed by and then
I went the self-same road again.
"No vestige of that Town I traced,—But one poor swain his horn employed,—His sheep unconscious browsed and grazed,I asked 'when was that Town destroyed?'He spoke, nor would his horn lay by,'One thing may grow and another die,But I know nothing of Towns—not I.'
"No vestige of that Town I traced,—
But one poor swain his horn employed,—
His sheep unconscious browsed and grazed,
I asked 'when was that Town destroyed?'
He spoke, nor would his horn lay by,
'One thing may grow and another die,
But I know nothing of Towns—not I.'
"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again.
"A thousand years went on and then
I passed the self-same place again.
"There in the deep of waters castHis nets one lonely fisherman,And as he drew them up at lastI asked him 'how that Lake began?'He looked at me and laughed to say,'The waters spring for ever and aye,And fish is plenty every day.'
"There in the deep of waters cast
His nets one lonely fisherman,
And as he drew them up at last
I asked him 'how that Lake began?'
He looked at me and laughed to say,
'The waters spring for ever and aye,
And fish is plenty every day.'
"A thousand years passed by and thenI went the self-same road again.
"A thousand years passed by and then
I went the self-same road again.
"I found a country wild and rude,And, axe in hand, beside a tree,The Hermit of that Solitude,—I asked 'how old that Wood might be?'He spoke, 'I count not time at all,A tree may rise, a tree may fall,The Forest overlives us all,'
"I found a country wild and rude,
And, axe in hand, beside a tree,
The Hermit of that Solitude,—
I asked 'how old that Wood might be?'
He spoke, 'I count not time at all,
A tree may rise, a tree may fall,
The Forest overlives us all,'
"A thousand years went on and thenI passed the self-same place again.
"A thousand years went on and then
I passed the self-same place again.
"And there a glorious City stood,And 'mid tumultuous market-cry,I asked 'Where rose the Town? where WoodPasture and Lake forgotten lie?'They heard me not, and little blame,—For them the world is as it came,And all things must be still the same.
"And there a glorious City stood,
And 'mid tumultuous market-cry,
I asked 'Where rose the Town? where Wood
Pasture and Lake forgotten lie?'
They heard me not, and little blame,—
For them the world is as it came,
And all things must be still the same.
"A thousand years shall pass, and thenI mean to try that road again."Lord Houghton,after Rückert.
"A thousand years shall pass, and then
I mean to try that road again."
Lord Houghton,after Rückert.
"What a modern talks of by the name, Forces of Nature, Laws of Nature; and does not figure as a divine thing; not even as one thing at all, but as a set of things, undivine enough,—saleable, curious, good for propelling steam-ships! With our Sciences and Cyclopædias, we are apt to forget thedivineness, in those laboratories of ours. We ought not to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not what else were worth remembering."—Carlyle.Heroes.
"What a modern talks of by the name, Forces of Nature, Laws of Nature; and does not figure as a divine thing; not even as one thing at all, but as a set of things, undivine enough,—saleable, curious, good for propelling steam-ships! With our Sciences and Cyclopædias, we are apt to forget thedivineness, in those laboratories of ours. We ought not to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not what else were worth remembering."—Carlyle.Heroes.
"Two worlds, the one intellectual, the other sensual, were equally given to us from the beginning, and all attempts to deduce them from one principle (except the Deity) have failed."—Von Feuchtersleben.
"Two worlds, the one intellectual, the other sensual, were equally given to us from the beginning, and all attempts to deduce them from one principle (except the Deity) have failed."—Von Feuchtersleben.
"What am I? how produced? and for what end?Whence drew I being? to what period tend?Am I th' abandon'd orphan of blind chance?Dropped by wild atoms in disorder'd dance?Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,And of unthinking substance, born with thought?By motion which began without a Cause,Supremely wise, without design or laws."—Arbuthnot.
"What am I? how produced? and for what end?Whence drew I being? to what period tend?Am I th' abandon'd orphan of blind chance?Dropped by wild atoms in disorder'd dance?Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,And of unthinking substance, born with thought?By motion which began without a Cause,Supremely wise, without design or laws."—Arbuthnot.
"What am I? how produced? and for what end?Whence drew I being? to what period tend?Am I th' abandon'd orphan of blind chance?Dropped by wild atoms in disorder'd dance?Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,And of unthinking substance, born with thought?By motion which began without a Cause,Supremely wise, without design or laws."—Arbuthnot.
"What am I? how produced? and for what end?
Whence drew I being? to what period tend?
Am I th' abandon'd orphan of blind chance?
Dropped by wild atoms in disorder'd dance?
Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,
And of unthinking substance, born with thought?
By motion which began without a Cause,
Supremely wise, without design or laws."—Arbuthnot.
"Pouvoir c'est vouloir."—Guesses at Truth.
"Pouvoir c'est vouloir."—Guesses at Truth.
"Pouvoir c'est vouloir."—Guesses at Truth.
"If only once weird Time had rent asunderThe curtain of the Clouds, and shown us NightClimbing into the awful InfiniteThose stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under,Glory on glory, wonder upon wonder!..."Ah! sure the heart of Man, too strongly triedBy Godlike Presences so vast and fair,Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair,Had wept for ever, and to Heaven cried,Or struck with lightnings of delight had died!"But he, though heir of Immortality,With mortal dust too feeble for the sight,Draws thro' a veil God's overwhelming light;Use arms the Soul—anon there moveth byA more majestic Angel—and we die!"Frederick Tennyson.
"If only once weird Time had rent asunderThe curtain of the Clouds, and shown us NightClimbing into the awful InfiniteThose stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under,Glory on glory, wonder upon wonder!..."Ah! sure the heart of Man, too strongly triedBy Godlike Presences so vast and fair,Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair,Had wept for ever, and to Heaven cried,Or struck with lightnings of delight had died!"But he, though heir of Immortality,With mortal dust too feeble for the sight,Draws thro' a veil God's overwhelming light;Use arms the Soul—anon there moveth byA more majestic Angel—and we die!"Frederick Tennyson.
"If only once weird Time had rent asunderThe curtain of the Clouds, and shown us NightClimbing into the awful InfiniteThose stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under,Glory on glory, wonder upon wonder!...
"If only once weird Time had rent asunder
The curtain of the Clouds, and shown us Night
Climbing into the awful Infinite
Those stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under,
Glory on glory, wonder upon wonder!...
"Ah! sure the heart of Man, too strongly triedBy Godlike Presences so vast and fair,Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair,Had wept for ever, and to Heaven cried,Or struck with lightnings of delight had died!
"Ah! sure the heart of Man, too strongly tried
By Godlike Presences so vast and fair,
Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair,
Had wept for ever, and to Heaven cried,
Or struck with lightnings of delight had died!
"But he, though heir of Immortality,With mortal dust too feeble for the sight,Draws thro' a veil God's overwhelming light;Use arms the Soul—anon there moveth byA more majestic Angel—and we die!"Frederick Tennyson.
"But he, though heir of Immortality,
With mortal dust too feeble for the sight,
Draws thro' a veil God's overwhelming light;
Use arms the Soul—anon there moveth by
A more majestic Angel—and we die!"
Frederick Tennyson.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER VI.
The two last Chapters are intended to be read consecutively, but are formally separated in order to mark the transition of Argument. If this is borne in mind, and the line of thought pursued continuously, there will appear to be little need for further elucidation.
The main object of the present Chapter is to distinguish the physical chain of Sequency from Causation properly so termed. In other words to divide the World, as we see it, into two spheres; the Mechanical and the Personal.
The former is characterized by invariable Sequency. The latter by Causation, and by causal interference with the mechanical chain of antecedent and consequent.
Inferences are drawn from these contrasted facts.
Analysis.—Causation not explained by any of the empirical sciences. Time accounts for nothing. Explicit statements of scientific men on the subject. "Inquire elsewhere." This is one good reason for the study of Natural Theology.
Only one kind of true Cause known to us by Experience. Distinction between a true Cause and the invariable antecedent of an invariable consequent. Antecedent enters Chain of natural sequency; Cause does not. Cause must account for the several links of Chain, for the connection between those links, and for the entire Chain considered as a Whole and Unity in Nature. This position illustrated and investigated. How grasped by the young mind. Its verification.
Known facts of Causation result in the Unknowable; a condition which attaches to the most certain of all truths. Personality a case in point. Another case that of alterations caused by Volition in chains of Natural Sequency. Common-sense allowances made for this last fact.
Applicationà fortiorito the Divine Personality. Presumption for miracles; its nature and limits. Intervention does not destroy Order and Unity. Hence we distinguish two possible kinds of Evidence, from,—
1. General Order of World.
2. Occasional variation.
Both leading up to a Supreme causal Personality.
CHAPTER VI.
CAUSATION.
This sixth Chapter occupies a totally different sphere of Thought from the one preceding it. Instead of examining the world as it now is, we shall inquire what its present existence necessarily presupposes. Time, in the ordinary meaning of the word, is no factor in our calculation. We have to deal with Time's antecedents.
These words sound like a long farewell to our companion and auxiliary,—Natural Science! Geology, Palæontology, Astronomy, are unanimous in telling us of periods immeasurably remote. But, they are all silent on two more distant and profound subjects—a Beginning and an Eternity. In the world best known to us, vast cycles—each comprehending many ages of life—- point back to preceding cycles made up of ages more numerous still, during which the world was absolutely void of life. Upon that primæval fabric, are graved long records of changes beyond the reach of Thought. A single epoch,—the era when our globe, an incandescent mass of matter, was cooling in its flight,—is alone sufficient to exhaust all our imaginative powers. Did water first surround the glowing orb as a heated vapour? Did clouds first descend upon it like a fiery rain-storm? Suppose some sentient creature floating through ether to look upon the unformed world,—how wild, how weird must have been the spectacle! How different from what earth and ocean may appear to any similar Intelligence now.
Science discoursing upon such topics is more poetical than the most sublime poetry. And the science that does speak ofthem is the widest of all sciences, After certain cycles of ages, the Biologist hands us over to the Mineralogist and the Chemist. After certain other cycles, we give up those guides in turn; and gauge nature by measuring mass, speed, force, comparing our own orb with kindred orbs, and trying to collect what the comparison can say respecting the earliest conditions of the Universe. But, all this is no answer to our proposed question concerning Time's antecedents. "The territory of physics" says a well-known physicist, "is wide, but it has its limits from which we look with vacant gaze into the region beyond."[211]And these words are evidently true. Time serves, in this respect, as the index of our incapacity. We travel back from the period of Man to the period of a ferny coal field, a trilobite or an Eozoon, and from thence to the period when nebulous light-masses shone out through illimitable space. No doubt, when we have learned to contemplate such vapoury states of attenuated matter, we have learned a great deal. Modern analysis finds in them the elementary constituents of our own planetary system; the same elements which glow with greater apparent brilliancy in our Sun. But this is not all. To the sober eye of science, those fires, which burned before stars were kindled, display in their splendours materials entering into the composition of our transitory frames; materials required continually by our bodies and by our productive arts. We live, if modern science may be trusted, by the assimilation of elements now shining in the celestial sphere; elements which glittered there through long cycles of ages before our Earth was. And we employ the same elements in the common industries of civilisation.[212]This bewildering thought seems to link us with that Sun, which is the glory of our day, with those wandering lamps which make nightbeautiful; and with all the hosts of heaven, which have always fascinated the upward gaze of man, and have sometimes won his heart to worship them.
The more overwhelming these thoughts appear, the grander is the emphasis of our yet unanswered question. We have seen that we are able to travel backwards—not in fancy, but in reason—from era to era, however incalculable the measurement of each era may be; and, when our travels have reached their utmost goal, we find the marvellous Continuity of Nature still unbroken. And this very fact, is, in itself, a sufficient proof that we have not approached Time's antecedents. What we have really done, is to carry the Present with us into an immeasurably distant Past. We know not yet what is presupposed by both,—we cannot say what went before them.
It isveryimportant for us to be thoroughly clear upon the result. For there is a sort of unreflecting idea afloat, that if vast periods of Time are conceived, the whole Universe is conceived also. All seems explained, since everything may come to pass in Time! So it may, inonesense. Time gives opportunity; but then there must be a moving power[213]to workinthe opportunity. Let it therefore be distinctly borne in mind, that Time causes nothing. To dispense with a spring of action, is to imagine that Time will stop the river's flow, or that the river will stop without a cause in time:—
"Rusticus expectat, dum defluat amnis; at illeLabitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum."
"Rusticus expectat, dum defluat amnis; at illeLabitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum."
"Rusticus expectat, dum defluat amnis; at ille
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum."
In reality, Time accounts neither for good nor for evil,neither for the end nor yet for the beginning of any single work.
And the same is true respecting any chain, however long, made up of antecedents and consequents, however numerous. We see in them movements propagating movements; but then we are obliged to ask, what moved the first of them? The reader may remember Professor Huxley's picture of a cosmic vapour, from a knowledge of which a sufficient Intelligence might have predicted our present world. Looking further, we find this cosmic vapour to be composed (as he says) of molecules possessing forces or properties; in other words, what he really described was a potential Universe; not a Cause, but an already caused production. What, then, caused it?
It was not the Professor's business,—nor is it the business of any Physiologist or of any Physicist, to explain what lies beyond the territories of his science. Consequently he doesnotaccount for the existence of this "primitive nebulosity." The "sufficient Intelligence" is only spoken of a possible interpreter or prophet. And Professor Huxley is right and wise in his reticence.
Professor Tyndall is equally wise and right in telling us that "Science knows much of this intermediate phase of things that we call nature, of which it is the product; but science knows nothing of the origin or destiny of nature."[214]
There is always a rightness and wisdom in stating a limit, and an issue,distinctly. No one endowed with clearness of vision, will think the Universe as likely to be adequately accounted for by an eternal nebula, as by an eternity of Mind. No one will exactly state to himself, the meaning of such words as Chance, Time, Law, and others of a like description; and, with those meaningsin remembrance, pronounce that any or all of them can explain the origin of anything. But by popular lecturers and article-makers, immeasurable series of conditions are sometimes mentioned in a manner which almost implies that, because immeasurable, the speaker or writer supposes that such conditions may possibly be creative.
Any reader of current literature will scarcely need reminding,that most modernsavantsusually acquiesce in, and feel burdened by, a sense of "the Inscrutable." And therefore, when summing up the results of scientific truth, they honestly and consistently reduce their disciples to analternative,—an alternative of which no disciple of any special science ought reasonably to complain. Choose, they tell him, between confessing, "here is the Incomprehensible—here I rest;" or, if you please, endeavouring to "find other means of knowledge, which we donotpretend to furnish." This is no more than to say, and say fairly, "Be satisfied with such information as we can give,—or, if you please, inquire elsewhere." And this seems reasonable; for who would assert that a Professor of Poetry ought to give competent instruction in the Calculus?
We may assume that every student of Natural Theology has made up his mind to "inquire elsewhere." And it is the part of an earnest man so to do. Were not the Future linked to the Present, we all might feel less earnest, less persevering, less anxious for inquiry. Yet, if there be a Future beyond our Present, we at once perceive a weight of reason beyond all powers of estimate,whysuch a connecting chain must certainly exist. All our experience, every argument from analogy, and all morality, fall into one and the same scale. But of this, more hereafter. There is no doubt that our wisdom and our duty coincide with our natural instincts, in bringing us to this resolution. We may not be able to learnallwe could wish of that Future which follows our present; but what we can truly learn is to us a treasure beyond price. Let us, therefore, proceed as fellow-pilgrims in the search.
It is an undeniable fact—one amongst the hard and actual facts which life teaches—that, in the whole of our experience, we never know of more than one kind of cause,—a cause, that is, in the true sense oforiginatingany event or series of events. Nothing can be more certain as respects our knowledge of the material world. From this point of view, Sir J. Herschel describes Brown's book on "Cause and Effect" as "a work of great acuteness and subtlety of reasoning on some points, but in which the whole train of argument is vitiated by one enormous oversight; the omission, namely, of adistinct and immediate personal consciousness of causationin his enumeration of thatsequence of events, by which the volition of the mind is made to terminate in the motion of material objects. I mean the consciousness ofeffort, accompanied withintention therebyto accomplish an end, as a thing entirely distinct from meredesireorvolitionon the one hand, and from mere spasmodic contraction of muscles on the other."[215]
This causation we experience continually. A heavy stone falls from a wall, and kills a man. No one threw it. We say it fell—or, as a physicist might express it, obeyed the law of gravitation. But we may remember that from the tower of Thebez "a certain woman cast a piece of a millstone upon Abimelech's head and all to break his scull." We form quite a different opinion of this event. We say, here is a case in which "the volition of the mind is made to terminate in the motion of a material object." Some might accuse, others excuse, the woman of Thebez; but all would argue that she caused the death of Abimelech.
Your boy wants to beat a chair which has fallen upon him; you tell him why he must not, and all you say is sound philosophy. He also wants to kill his cat for devouring his canary bird; and again you philosophize correctly. But, suppose your young philosopher for his own pleasure wrings his canary bird's neck? The chair fell by mechanical law—the cat obeyed the law of her hungry instinct—but your boy is culpable. He was the true cause of his own cruel act,—in a word he was responsible. And this same truth of Causation, involved in Responsibility, and constituting one of its necessary factors, is like Mind in Mr. Mill,—a truth which wemustaccept—inexplicable, but unquestionably real. Weknowthat Will is a Cause,—and we donotactually know of any other cause in the wide Universe. The fact comes home to us in a variety of ways. Was Thurtell the cause or the physical antecedent of Weare's death? If not the cause, we ought never to think him, or any murderer, slaver, torturer, or tyrant, at all in the wrong; neither can we hold them in any manner responsible.
Let the reader put this case to himself in as many different shapes as he can. The result will always come to the sameissue. We may suppose a Nebula, Law, Force, so arranged as to be the physical antecedent of a world. And nothing can be more marvellous than the idea of such an arrangement! But we cannot imagine any existence really causing an effect, save one,—a Will. Therefore, if we wish to go beyond Nebula, Law, or Force, which are merely physical antecedents,—and ask what caused one or all of them, we are obliged (so far as we are disciples of experience) to say their Cause was a Will. And when we say this, we allegea sufficient reason.
A few paragraphs back, we availed ourselves of the authoritative verdict pronounced by scientific thinkers, on the question of what is, and what is not, from their point of view, knowable. And we sawwherephysics terminated,—that is, in aNebula. This is theirlimit.
Yet, there is nothing to hinder a physicist from becoming also a Natural Theologian. It is not every man who will rest in a negative conclusion. Professor Baden Powell was among the malcontents in this respect; and we desire now to quote from his writings some passages referred to in the argument of a former Chapter.
But before doing so, it would be unfair to conceal that a tribute of gratitude appears due to writers who mark the boundary of their own thought, however little we ourselves desire to stay acquiescently within its limitations. There is honesty in their act;—there is an incitement for other men to try out their lines of thinking also. Finally, all such writers are unexceptionable witnesses to the interest and reality belonging to a separate science of Natural Theology. In all these respects, they occupy a totally different position from the indifferentist or sneering sceptic; and it would be injustice to confound such broad distinctions of moral aspect. With this acknowledgment let us return to Baden Powell.
In his "Connexion of Natural and Divine Truth"[216]he writes thus:—
"The study ofphysical causes(understoodin the simple meaningwhich we have before endeavoured to fix,) while it supplies the unassailable evidence of design and adjustment, as unavoidably carriesus thence onward to the idea of an Intelligence from which that design emanated, and of an agency by which that adjustment was produced. It brings us, in a word, to recognise an influence of another kind, of an orderdifferent from, and far above that ofphysical causesor material action:—to acknowledge a sublimemoral cause, the universally operating source of creative power and providential wisdom.[bd]... We have already noticed, in other cases, the ambiguities arising from the diversity of meaning attached to the same term "cause." Here, then, it becomes more peculiarly necessary if we adopt the popular expression, "the First Cause," to recur carefully to the distinction, if we would preserve any clearness of reasoning."We refer to senses of the term absolutely distinctin kind. Nor is it a term of mere verbal difference. It is of importance, whether in guarding against fallacies in evidence or in answering the cavils of scepticism.... When we ascend to the contemplation of creative intelligence, the distinction is not between a prior and a subsequent train of material action, but betweenphysical orderandmoral volition. It will thus be apparent that the metaphor so often used of thechainof natural causeswhose last and highest linkis its immediate connexion with the Deity;—the very phrase of a succession ofsecondarycauses traced up to afirst cause,—and the like, (so commonly employed,) are founded on a totally mistaken analogy."If we retain such metaphorical language at all, it would be a more just mode of speaking to describe the Deity as the Divine artificer of the whole chain,—not to connect Him with its links;—to represent the secondary causes as combined into joint operation by His power and will,—but not to make Him one of them." And again;—"If we require the aid of metaphor in attempting to give utterance to those vast conceptions with which the mind is overpowered, instead of speaking of the first and secondary links in a chain of causation, and the like, let us rather recur to the analogy of thearch(before introduced,) and we shall be adopting at once a more just and expressive figure, and shall here run no risk of speaking as if we confounded the stones with the builder,—their mutually supporting force with the skill of the architect who adjusted them."[217]
"The study ofphysical causes(understoodin the simple meaningwhich we have before endeavoured to fix,) while it supplies the unassailable evidence of design and adjustment, as unavoidably carriesus thence onward to the idea of an Intelligence from which that design emanated, and of an agency by which that adjustment was produced. It brings us, in a word, to recognise an influence of another kind, of an orderdifferent from, and far above that ofphysical causesor material action:—to acknowledge a sublimemoral cause, the universally operating source of creative power and providential wisdom.[bd]... We have already noticed, in other cases, the ambiguities arising from the diversity of meaning attached to the same term "cause." Here, then, it becomes more peculiarly necessary if we adopt the popular expression, "the First Cause," to recur carefully to the distinction, if we would preserve any clearness of reasoning.
"We refer to senses of the term absolutely distinctin kind. Nor is it a term of mere verbal difference. It is of importance, whether in guarding against fallacies in evidence or in answering the cavils of scepticism.... When we ascend to the contemplation of creative intelligence, the distinction is not between a prior and a subsequent train of material action, but betweenphysical orderandmoral volition. It will thus be apparent that the metaphor so often used of thechainof natural causeswhose last and highest linkis its immediate connexion with the Deity;—the very phrase of a succession ofsecondarycauses traced up to afirst cause,—and the like, (so commonly employed,) are founded on a totally mistaken analogy.
"If we retain such metaphorical language at all, it would be a more just mode of speaking to describe the Deity as the Divine artificer of the whole chain,—not to connect Him with its links;—to represent the secondary causes as combined into joint operation by His power and will,—but not to make Him one of them." And again;—"If we require the aid of metaphor in attempting to give utterance to those vast conceptions with which the mind is overpowered, instead of speaking of the first and secondary links in a chain of causation, and the like, let us rather recur to the analogy of thearch(before introduced,) and we shall be adopting at once a more just and expressive figure, and shall here run no risk of speaking as if we confounded the stones with the builder,—their mutually supporting force with the skill of the architect who adjusted them."[217]
What Baden Powell called "physical causation," is now more commonly known as invariable antecedency, or invariable succession. Antecedents and consequents are phenomena of the natural world,—and the connection between them is theirLaw.
Now, suppose we take the Alphabet to represent a series of these antecedents and consequents, the latter invariably following the former; it does not, (as far as argument goes,) in the least signify what the series really is, any more than when we calculate algebraically. But to make things plain, let the Alphabet represent 26 cycles of succession; each cycle containing as many millions of years, or ages, as you choose to grant for the duration of the Natural Universe. We may state the problem thus,—thelawof succession being assumed in our series as constant.
If we have Z, there certainly must have been Y, andconversely;—
If there were no Y, there cannot possibly be Z. We go on,—
If Y, then certainly X;
If no X, then Y is impossible.
As we know Z in fact, we get back to Y; and, as we find Y, we retrogress to X.
And the retrogression continues, say till we reach B,—
If B, certainly A;
If no A, then B is impossible.
But, what are we to say of A?
If A then certainly—what?
If nowhat?—then A is impossible.
It does not signify how far the chain of physical law may extend. From its very essence and definition, you must arrive finally at a first link. Or, in other words, the Continuity of Nature may go back through Time immeasurable,—Time will after all lead you to Time's antecedents. And when you have arrived at your first link, and inquirewhatmust necessarily have preceded Time, it is well to consider thesortof accountwhich alone you can accept,becauseit alone willsufficientlysatisfy your reason.
You want, then, something which properly accounts first for A;nextfor the link between A and B; andthirdly, by consequence, for the whole Alphabet.
If, with this statement in mind, the reader turns back to the extracts made from Powell, he will see the force of several points strongly put by the Professor. He will see, for example, how inevitablyphysicalcausation carries us back toanother, and verydiverseCausation,—diverse inkind—not simply different in degree. Also, how the idea of Cause in this latter sense, takes us quiteoutof the physical nexus. And, further, that the only admissible Conception of a First Universal Cause, must be a conception of something which will not only bring about A, but likewiseaccountfor the entire series, linked together and consecutive, into one resultingWhole. For the Whole itself; in brief for the Many and the One.
We have now to ask further, what Facts can tell us respecting these two kinds of Causation. And let us again employ our letters, but rather in a different way.
Suppose P stands for a fact, which may also be described as a natural phenomenon. To account for P we go back to O, retrogress to N, M, and so on, as shewn already.
Again, suppose another fact which cannot be described as a natural phenomenon. Let us try whether P may, with equal propriety, stand for a human production or performance. That is—whether, instead of being a merephenomenalfact, it may also be spoken of as anact.
We want then to account for P,thusconsidered. A striking circumstance appears at once evident, that to find the "why" of human activity we do not look to any antecedent;—we look to aconsequent, or a series of consequences. The question we ask is,—with whatviewP became an act? In other words, we try to account for P,notbyO,N,M, etc., but byQ,R,S, etc. For example: let P represent a murder. The crime was done for the sake of money, and for things which money will purchase; that is, theconsequents,—Q,R,S, and so on, forming a series designed;—gains and purposes, long or short. But, no one would say thatanotherseriesforegoing(O, N, M)necessitated the act;—that they were thecertain antecedents of a necessary consequent(P)the murder. If it were so, we should have to congratulate the murderer for having beenforcedinto so profitable a performance, and we should also have to leave him in the peaceable enjoyment of his profits.
Acts, therefore,—orvolitionalfacts—moveforwardsthrough a series ofconsequents; while phenomena—that is,physicalfacts—run backwards through a series ofantecedents.
If pressed to find a Cause for an act, we are never in a position to say,—
If P, then certainly O;
If no O, then P is impossible.
We say, on the contrary, that theCauseof the act wasVolitional,—that is, it was done by anagent or person acting. And further, that theconsequents(Q, R, S, etc.) represent thepurposeof the actor or agent, and that he is responsible for having adopted them as his prevalent motives or inducements.
But from these necessities of thought which hold alike as abstract truths, and in practical experience, several inferences follow:—
A volitional cause or agent, may stand before a series of consequents;—but cannot be ranged after such a series.
Our series represented by the Alphabet, was taken to be a series ofinvariable sequency. That is, each factor (letter) presupposed antecedents, whichnecessitatedevery factor in succession. Therefore we cannot represent any agent or volitional Cause, by an element (or letter) of that series at all. Nor yet his act. It follows on no such chain of antecedents. It is donein viewof certain consequents.
If, therefore, we ask what can be conceived respecting the causation of the Universe,—its cause must (as Powell says), be placed absolutely outside and prior to the whole series. In other words,—a volitional or First cause can never belong to the physical chain of antecedent and consequent, bound together by natural law. And the reason is plain: in no true sense can such Cause ever be a necessary consequent at all. Such a Cause calls into existence, not only A, but the whole consecutive alphabet, representing cycles of millions of ages.Not the world's primæval state alone,—- but the whole law-connected Universe. Thus, First Cause, and Secondary cause, apply not to difference of sequency alone,—but to anintrinsic and essential distinction. And, this distinction is so vast, that between the World's First Cause, and any given Secondary cause, there is fixed a gulf of separation as wide as the whole potential Universe.
Another way of looking at the subject of Causation may appear simpler to some minds.
Let the reader recal the problems of Idealism and Realism already discussed. He will also remember what Mr. Masson calls "the paramount result" to Mill and Hamilton alike;—the inevitable persuasion all men have of their own distinctness from an external world of things and persons surrounding them.
With this accepted result in remembrance, let the reader ask himself the further question,howhe became originally impressed with the grand division of that world of objectivity,—how he first separatedPersonsfromThings? He will account for the conception in some such way as this:—As a child, he was injured both by his nurse and his nursery table. He discovered that the table had been placed where it stood; but that his nurse struck him with a passionate intention of compelling him to obey her, against his own will. And, thus, in the succession of little troubles and events perpetually going on, he learned to distinguish them all into two broad classes: events dependent on previous circumstances, such as the position of the table; and events productive of intentional consequences, such as the ill temper of his nurse. The first class of events he couldcontrolby a change of outside conditions;—he could either move the table or keep his body out of its way. But, the nurse he had to humour and conciliate; and he soon found, to his cost, that very often his efforts to win her favour were unavailing, because her temper was so very, very bad. And this whole process of Childish reasoning became confirmed in after life by his practical reason, and verified by finding it work well every day. The child who thus ceases to blame the table for hurting him, but blames the temper of the nurse, is the "father of the Man," who praises orblames only when he discovers a truecause; and steadily ascribesCausationto aWill. And, employ what words we choose, this causative power is the grand tenable distinction between Persons and Things. And no amount of refined theory will ever induce us to act upon any other supposition. We remain fixed in our belief that a true Cause must, without exception, be always a true Personality.
It is worth while observing, likewise, with what emphasis of words, mankind marks its sense of this fact. We all say that we see such and such acause,—or such and such awillat work. And the energy of expression is justified by analysis. For, when we see an orange or a cathedral, what we really perceive through our eye, may be summed as coloured surface, outline, light and shade. And seeing this, we say that we see thesolid;—that is, seeing effects, we maintain that we see the cause. Moreover, this is true, if we remember that seeing is a compound process; the eye of the mind lookingthroughthe eye of the body. And we ventured to use the same language in our last chapter, and also to justify it, when we spoke of seeing the Intelligible. The man, therefore, is not far wrong who says that he sees God everywhere.
Look at the subject in whatever point of view we will,—as an abstract question—as a calculable problem—or an affair of plain common sense,—the result must finally come to one and the same thing. There can be no Cause,—no First to stand before (not in) the series of sequences, except a Being, Will, Personality.
Now as a matter of truth, there must necessarily exist some sufficient account of the Universe. Physical Science is right to speak of it as unknowable[218]by Physical investigation. It cannot lieinthe physical series,—it must standpriorto the whole. It admits of no antecedent; but the sum of all existence is its consequent. Therefore, the sufficient account is a first Being, Will, and Personality. We must accept the result and acknowledge its truth, because it is an inevitable fact, if the question is argued upon the ground of other facts practically known, and not of theory, conjecture, or supposed possibilities.But it involves theoretical difficulties which we must acknowledge to be inexplicable. We cannot, however, forget that many other truths and matters of fact are inexplicable also.[219]
A circumstance equally true, and equally incapable of theoretical explanation, may be stated as follows. If we revert, once more, to our representative letters of the alphabet, it will be recollected that the letter P was taken to represent a crime,—a murder for the sake of gain. P had for its consequentsQ,R,S, but did not depend on the antecedentsO,N,M; it was introduced extraneously into the series. In other words, the crime entailed a number ofeffects, which had in reality been premeditated by the murderer; while,in itself, it was to beaccountedfor only as the act of a Volitional Cause or Agent. And the remarkable point to us now, is the circumstance that such adesigned series of eventscan thus be introduced into the order of nature byman's spontaneous choice. These determinations are in fact alterations in the ordinary course of Nature; and contradictions of its absolutely invariable sequency.[be]This fact, again, appears to be theoreticallyinexplicable, yet is practically true; and weverifyits truth by determinations of the deepest interest and importance to our individual selves. Sometimes, men almost stand aghast at the consequences of choosing obstinately; and, through years of sorrow, accuse their own, and their friends' pertinacity.
Possibly, the difficulty in theory may be in some degree softened by the admissions of physical philosophers,—inventors and craftsmen of all sorts,—respecting the considerableallowanceto be made for "functioning" their abstract calculations. The necessity of such allowance distinctly proves, that, even in the most exact of applied sciences, pure theory and practical result do not commonly coincide. And, when we look to the concerns of human society, it must be confessed that no amount of sovereign power, insight of statesmen, or experience grounded on precedent or on knowledge of mankind, does away with the absolute necessity of allowing what is called a "margin" for the actual working of any law, scheme, contrivance, or political constitution. Speculative people are apt to find this truth verified to their cost and disappointment; and, perhaps, one reason for the general success of English administrators in government and colonization, is their habit of makingvery largeallowances throughout all the practical arrangements. In managing the world, they consider thenon-calculableelement of Will,—and allow for the way in which it breaks in, with sometimes tremendous effect, upon the otherwise regular current of affairs.
But if this be true of thehumanWill, what ought to be said
of theDivine? If we, with our limited power and understanding, can thus interrupt many series of events in our world, what shall we say concerning the Volitional Cause of the whole Universe? Concerning a Personality, which was before the chain of phenomenal antecedent and consequent began, and Which (as we have shewn must hold true of a First Cause), actually willed the wholeas a whole, and arranged the end from the beginning? Recurring to our selected figure of the Alphabet, this primary Will, this incomprehensible Person is, in our view, the Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, and beside Him there is none other.[220]
So far, therefore, as a consideration of the world goes, and of mankind as existing in the world, arguments from analogy would lead to some positive expectation of Miracles. Our belief in the Uniformity of Nature does not exclude them; and our practical experience gives rise to aprobabilityof their occurrence. When, however, we lift up our eyes to the Divine Mind as Supreme Reason, Miracles appear to us inconceivable without an adequate occasion. For we ourselves strive to act ontrue,fitting, andreasonablegrounds of purpose; and shall we think less of Him, "Who teacheth Man knowledge"? But to pursue this last topic as it deserves, would carry us away from the domain of Natural Theology, and into that of Theology true and proper.
Our business has lain with the Natural world, human nature itself included. And in examining the successional chain, we have perceived that it is not forged of Adamant. Yet there is so much connection and unity running throughout it, that we may with the greatest justice speak of theorderandcourseof nature. And, perhaps thehighestkind of evidence to the being and attributes of God conceivable by us, lies in the concurrence oftwoseparate kinds of proof; both resting on the reality of Divinecausationviewedrelativelyto the World we inhabit. The one,—when we trace (as in this Chapter we have shewn that men ought to trace), the chain of natural sequence up toa Personal First Cause. The other,—when we find reason to believe that the First Cause and Creator of the world, has seen fit to interfere with its orderly course in a manner which distinguishes His intervention from our common every-day experience.
For such intervention,wecould probably conceive no greater fitness, no nobler occasion, than the purpose of raising Men above themselves, and assuring them that there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in their Philosophies. And what human dream, vision, or philosophy, could ever have foreseen the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him?
RESPONSIBILITY.
"The astronomers said, 'Give us matter, and a little motion, and we will construct the universe. It is not enough that we should have matter, we must also have a single impulse, one shove to launch the mass, and generate the harmony of the centrifugal and centripetal forces. Once heave the ball from the hand, and we can show how all this mighty order grew.'"—Emerson.Nature.
"The essence of the Scandinavian, as indeed of all Pagan Mythologies, we found to be recognition of the divineness of Nature; sincere communion of man with the mysterious invisible Powers visibly seen at work in the world round him.... Such recognition of Nature one finds to be the chief element of Paganism: recognition of Man, and his Moral Duty, though this too is not wanting, comes to be the chief element only in purer forms of religion. Here, indeed, is a great distinction and epoch in Human Beliefs; a great landmark in the religious development of Mankind. Man first puts himself in relation with Nature and her Powers, wonders and worships over those; not till a later epoch does he discern that all Power is Moral, that the grand point is the distinction for him of Good and Evil, ofThou shalt and Thou shalt not."—Carlyle.Heroes.
"Our Religion is not yet a horrible restless Doubt, still less a far horribler composed Cant; but a great heaven-high Unquestionability, encompassing, interpenetrating the whole of Life. Imperfect as we may be, we are here, to testify incessantly and indisputably to every heart, That this Earthly Life, anditsriches and possessions, and good and evil hap, are not intrinsically a reality at all, butarea shadow of realities eternal, infinite; that this Time-world, as an air-image, fearfullyemblematic, plays and flickers in the grand still mirror of Eternity; and man's little Life has Duties that are great, that are alone great."—Carlyle.Past and Present.