Questions on Chapter 9.

we may see “the finger of God” in the miracles he performs. As none but God can perform miracles, according to our definition, and as it is absurd to suppose that God should contradict, or work in opposition to himself, so it necessarily follows that he can neither perform himself, not permit any other being to perform a miracle in attestation of any thing but what he approves; and what he approves must be not only true, but right and proper. Hence we conclude that, if Christianity has been confirmed by real miracles, in the sense of our definition, it is established by evidence as satisfactory and convincing as the nature of the subject admits, or as any rational mind should demand.

We are persuaded that no intelligent deist can either doubt that God is able, should he please to do so, to reveal his will to man, or that he can confirm that revelation by the performance of miracles. Nor, so far as known to us, has any one questioned the validity of the evidence of miracles, when performed in our presence, and attested by our own senses. QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER 9.

QUESTION 1. Have the various authors differed in the classification of the evidences of Christianity?

2. What is the plan preferred?

3. How are the two classes of evidence defined?

4. What is the first department of external evidence?

5.What are the three points to be considered in reference to miracles?

6. How has miracle been defined by different authors?

7. What is the correct definition?

8. Can any but God, or one empowered by him, perform a real miracle?

9. Is the evidence of miracles conclusive and satisfactory?

10. Is this evidence, when witnessed by our own senses, generally admitted to be conclusive?

CHAPTER 10. — MIRACLES — HUME’S ARGUMENT.

ABOUT a hundred years ago, that shrewd and renowned Scotch metaphysician and champion of infidelity, David Hume, aiming a blow that would sap the foundation of Christianity, boldly advanced the theory that “no human testimony can have such force as to prove a miracle and make a just foundation for any system of religion;” and, although the rottenness of this position and the sophistry by which it was advocated have been fully exposed again and again by masterly hands, yet it still lives in the world, and once in awhile is unblushingly paraded by the advocates of modern infidelity.

Such has been the fame of Hume’s argument against miracles, that scarce a treatise has appeared on the evidences of Christianity, since the first enunciation of that gilded sophism, in which it has not been brought upon the arena for discussion. We here call attention to it, not so much from any conviction of its intrinsic force as from the fact that it has occupied so conspicuous a place in this controversy that no treatise on the question can ignore it entirely without being viewed by many as incomplete. We briefly state the substance of Mr. Hume’s argument in his own words, thus: “A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined; and if so, it is an undeniable consequence that it cannot be surmounted by any proof whatever from testimony. A miracle, therefore, however attested, can never be rendered credible, even in the lowest degree.”

In considering the argument here set forth against miracles, our first observation is this: It is in contradiction to the dictates of common sense. It implies that we ought not to believe a miracle, though confirmed by the most indubitable testimony of our own senses. His argument is this: “A miracle is a violation of the laws of nature, and as a firm and unalterable experience has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined; and if so, it cannot be surmounted by any proof whatever from testimony.” Omitting for the present several points in which the fallacy of this argument is manifest, is it not clear that it bears with equal force against testimony for miracles, whether it be the deposition of those who have witnessed them, or the direct testimony of our own senses to the fact? If, as Hume asserts, a miracle is a violation of the laws of nature, and these laws are so firmly established that no argument from experience can possibly surmount the evidence we have of their stability, does it not follow, not only that a miracle is incredible on any testimony of others, but also on the testimony of our own senses? If the laws of nature are so firmly proved not to be susceptible of suspension, change, or violation, that no evidence from experience can possibly surmount that proof, it is undeniable that the personal experience of our own senses is as fully excluded as the testimony of others. According to this argument, nothing can prove a miracle. It does not appear that Mr. Hume carried out his argument so as to assert that we ought not to credit our own senses, though we might, again and again, and under every variety of circumstances, witness with our own eyes, and ears, and hands, the performance of the most notable miracles; but it does appear, unquestionably, that his argument proves this, if it proves any thing at all. Indeed, this consequence is so undeniable that we think it could not have been repudiated by the author of the argument himself. Hence we conclude that, as this argument necessarily leads us to discredit the evidence of our own senses, even when we have the most satisfactory reasons to believe that those senses can be under no illusive or deceptive influence, and as we can gain no knowledge of any kind, or from any source, in reference to which we have a firmer conviction that we are not deceived, than what we derive from the testimony of our senses, our own common sense teaches us that this argument, which would require us to discredit this knowledge altogether in application to miracles, must be fallacious.

In the next place, the argument in question, if conclusive against the proof of miracles, must be equally so against every thing new, coming under the head of the marvelous.

Miracles are incredible, says the argument, because they are against the testimony of experience. The word experience, as used by Mr. Hume, must mean, either our own individual experience, the experience of the whole world, or the experience of the world generally. It could not have referred to the first named, for then we ought to admit nothing whatever on the testimony of others — it could not mean the experience of the whole world, for there are no means of ascertaining what that has been; the meaning, then, must be, that miracles are contrary to the experience of the world generally.

Now, is it not clear that if I am bound to discredit all human testimony for a miracle, because no such thing has been witnessed by the world generally, I am under obligation to reject every thing new and marvelous? Let this mode of reasoning be adopted, and what must be the fate of every new discovery in science — in astronomy, geology, philosophy, or the arts? When any of these are for the first time brought forth, might not every tyro in knowledge sit in judgment upon them, and condemn them “without farther examination?” Might he not exclaim: “These are contrary to experience — who ever heard of them before? — and they are not in accordance, with the known laws of nature; hence we must reject them.” Thus, according to this reasoning, all extraordinary phenomena in nature — all uncommon efforts of memory or of genius — all the wonders of magnetism, galvanism, and electricity — the newly developed mysteries of the telegraph — the reported descent of meteoric stones — all these things we must reject, if, according to this argument, our faith is to be circumscribed by the general experience of the world.

If what has never been experienced is never to be believed, what must have been the situation of man at the beginning of the world? and how suddenly would the wheels of progress now cease to revolve, were we to admit the maxim, that every thing unknown to the experience of the past ought to be rejected as not worthy to be believed by men of sense!

We can see no good reason why miracles should not be susceptible of proof, as well as every other class of facts. That God is able to perform them, none will dispute. And what, we ask, is there in the character of God rendering it improbable that he should, on suitable occasions, thus display his power? If it be reasonable — as proved in a former chapter — that God should reveal his will to man, what evidence could be selected so direct and satisfactory, in confirmation of that revelation, as the utterances of God in a miracle?

Mr. Hume’s argument seems to suppose that the “laws of nature,” as he terms them, possess an abstract existence, and are so unbending in their character that, if even the divine power were capable of suspending or changing them, no evidence could be given that would justify man in believing the fact. But surely this learned metaphysician knew that the “laws of nature” are no abstract essence. All we mean by the phrase is, the method by which God usually governs his creation. These laws are the creature of the divine will, and why may not that will suspend or modify them at pleasure? It is no more difficult for God to work a miracle than to cause the grass to grow. It is as easy for Him who rules over all to speak to the raging storm, “Peace, be still!” and it shall instantly be calmed, as to fan the face with the gentle breeze. Miracles are only improbable, as they are unusual; but because they are not every-day occurrences, that is no reason why we should not accredit them when they do occur, and are sufficiently attested. Miracles are not contrary to the “laws of nature,” in the real and full sense of the word, but are only over and above those laws, as they appear to us. They are not so with the Deity — they are not so in such sense as to imply that an effect is produced without an adequate cause. The difference between an ordinary event and a miracle is, that in the former a natural cause operates, which we may perceive, and, to some extent, comprehend; but in the latter a supernatural cause, whose operations we have not witnessed before in that way, and, though its presence may be known by its effects, yet the manner of its causative connection with the physical effect is concealed from our view.

That miracles may be proved by human testimony, in opposition to Hume’s argument, we might safely leave to the verdict of common sense, before any jury of intelligent, unprejudiced persons. We will present the case, as given by Mr. Paley in his answer to Hume’s theorism, thus: “If twelve men, whose probity and good sense I had long known, should seriously and circumstantially relate to me an account of a miracle wrought before their eyes, and in which it was impossible that they should be deceived — if the governor of the country, hearing a rumor of this account; should call these men into his presence, and offer them a short proposal, either to confess the imposture or submit to be tied up to a gibbet — if they should refuse with one voice to acknowledge that there existed any falsehood or imposture in the case — if this threat were communicated to them separately, yet with no different effect — if it was at last executed — if I myself saw them, one after another, consenting to be racked, burnt, or strangled, rather than give up the truth of their account — still, if Mr. Hume’s rule be my guide, I am not to believe them. Now I undertake to say that there exists not a skeptic in the world who would not believe them, or who would defend such incredulity.”

But wherein, it may be asked, consists the flaw in Mr. Hume’s argument? We reply, that his argument is mainly defective in two particulars: First. In pretending to balance between two experiences, measuring that by which the laws of nature are established, and that by which men’s veracity is established, against each other; whereas he is only in reality balancing total inexperience on the one hand, against positive experience on the other.

Secondly. The fallacy of the argument, as we judge, mainly consists in his blending together in the same category all kinds of testimony, both good and bad.

We conclude our notice of his argument by a brief exhibit of these fallacies. First. We call attention to his balancing between two experiences, thus: He argues that we cannot prove a miracle, because it implies a violation of the laws of nature, and these are established by the unalterable experience of the world. This he would balance against our experience of the character of human testimony; and finding, from the experience in reference to the laws of nature, that they never fail or vary, but, from our experience in reference to human testimony, that it has often failed and deceived us, he concludes against the possibility of proving a miracle by human testimony. To show clearly that while he thus speaks of two opposite experiences, which he would balance against each other, he is really only balancing experience against inexperience, we will illustrate the subject by a supposed case of fact. Now, admit that A is charged with having murdered B in the senate-chamber of the United States, at a certain hour of a certain day in a specified year. Twelve men depose that they were present at the time and place specified, and witnessed the act as charged. Now, we have the certified experience of these twelve men, convicting A of the crime of murder. But the counsel for A propose that they will neutralize the evidence against their client by arraying an equal amount of experience acquitting him of the crime. Now, we ask, will it do for them to bring forward the testimony of twelve men who were not present at the time and place specified, but who are ready to depose that they never witnessed the crime charged against A? Of what avail would ten thousand such testimonies be against the depositions of those who were present and witnessed the act? Is that balancing experience against experience? Surely this negative testimony amounts to nothing against affirmative evidence! This is experience on the one hand, against inexperience on the other. But is it not the same kind of balance we have in the argument against miracles? Let us examine. Twelve men depose that they saw, at a certain time and place, a dead man raised to life at the word of another. Now, if we propose to neutralize the testimony of these twelve witnesses, must we not do it by arraying against them twelve others who were present at the time and place, and saw no such thing? The evidence of ten thousand persons who were not present at the time and place, can be of no avail. Their testimony can only amount to this, that they have never witnessed any thing of the kind. As to the fact alleged, all their experience amounts to a total inexperience. It may be true that neither they nor any one else had ever witnessed any thing of the kind, and yet the testimony of the twelve men affirming to the fact, may also be true: there is no contrariety in the evidence. The inexperience of millions, who never witnessed a given fact, cannot neutralize the evidence of such as depose that they did witness it. It is the same principle, so far as the balancing of testimony is concerned, whether the fact in question be miraculous or merely natural. The testimony must stand or fall on its own merits. To assume that a miracle is against universal experience, is merely to beg the question; for that is the precise point in controversy. To set up general experience, which can only testify that men generally have never witnessed such things, may answer a purpose as far as it goes; but it cannot affect the question at issue, since it is not contended that miracles have been common in the world, for then they would have ceased to be such. The point in controversy is this: Was a certain miracle performed at a given time and place? The testimony in favor of miracles, when clear, explicit, ample, and conclusive, cannot be set aside by mere negative proof, whatever may be its amount or character. To proceed upon that principle, would be to ignore, on religious questions, all the principles of evidence and the rules of reasoning on all other subjects. We now call attention to the last point proposed — the manner in which Mr. Hume’s argument blends together testimony of all sorts, placing good and bad in the same category. Here, we think, is to be found the greatest defect in this noted argument. As a miracle implies, according to the argument, that either the laws of nature have been violated, or human testimony has proved false, Mr. Hume proves, by the testimony of experience, that no miracle has been wrought. Now, he argues that our experience in the truth of testimony is not so uniform as our experience in the constancy of nature. Here he contemplates all kinds of testimony in the gross; and finding that testimony has often been deceptive, he infers that the testimony deposing to the miracle in question is not to be relied on, because we have often experienced the falsehood of testimony, but have never experienced a violation of the laws of nature. Hence, as he argues, a miracle never can be established by human testimony. Now, we ask, is not this making all testimony, however good and reliable, responsible for the detects of all other testimony, however false or deceptive? The argument is substantially this: One kind of testimony has often proved false; therefore another kind of testimony, which has never proved false, is not to be relied on — that is, a rogue has often deceived me; hence I ought not to trust an honest man, who has never deceived me. If two things are essentially different in their nature, to prove a defect in the one will not necessarily involve the other in the same defect; but this is the character of the reasoning before us.

The argument of Mr. Hume against the character of testimony, is precisely the same as if he had grouped all animals together, and condemned and punished the innocent and harmless for the mischief perpetrated by the vicious and ferocious. For illustration: The wolf, the tiger, the panther, and the hawk, according to the general experience of the world, have often been found injurious, ferocious, and destructive to the welfare, peace, and happiness of man; therefore the calf, the lamb, the domestic fowl, and the turtle-dove, must be condemned and exterminated, notwithstanding their admitted proverbial innocence and harmlessness, for the crimes of those ferocious and vicious animals in whose company they have been classed! You must never trust your child to play with the gentle lamb, to caress his beautiful bantam, or to place the innocent dove in his bosom, for the wolf, the tiger, the panther, and the hawk, have often been known to prey upon innocent and unprotected children — to pick out their eyes, or to tear their tender flesh to pieces! It is true, the calf, the lamb, the chicken, and the dove, are essentially different in their nature from the wolf, the tiger, the panther, and the hawk; but what of that? They are all animals — they are all grouped together in the same category; and as we have often experienced that animals are vicious and ferocious, therefore animals are not to be trusted. Because we have often experienced that a certain kind of animals has injured us, therefore we ought not to trust a certain other kind that was never known to do us harm!

This is precisely the logic of Mr. Hume. We have changed the term testimony, and substituted for it the term animals, in order to exhibit more clearly the fallacy of the argument, but the logic is identical in both cases. Mr. Hume groups together good and bad testimony — that kind which is honest, full, conclusive, and satisfactory, having every mark of truth, and which we have never experienced to be false, with that other kind which is deceptions, incomplete, indecisive, and unsatisfactory, having every characteristic of falsehood, and which we have never experienced to be true! Now, we undertake to affirm that the diversity in the characteristics of the different kinds of animals which we have classed together is no more essential and striking than that between the different kinds of testimony in the argument under review. Stripped of its sophistical garb, we here see the real fallacious character of that far-famed argument by which it was boasted that the world was to be redeemed from superstition, and men of sense taught to turn away from all proof of miracles, “without examination, as more properly a subject of derision than of argument.” Did Mr. Hume perceive this flaw in his argument, or did he not? If he did not, it argues but little for his perspicacity; if he did, and designedly slurred it over, it argues more for the malignity of his heart than for the honesty of his purpose. We allow Mr. Hume to assert, as confidently as he pleases, that “we have never experienced a violation of the laws of nature;” but we affirm, with an equal degree of confidence, that we — yea, the world — have never experienced the falseness of that kind of testimony by which the miracles of Scripture have been proved; nor can we perceive it possible how such testimony could be false; but we can very readily perceive it possible, and even probable, that God, the author of nature and of nature’s laws, should suspend or hold in check his own laws, by the intervention of a higher law, for the glorious purpose of attesting the revelation of his will to his dependent, accountable creatures.

Having said what we deemed expedient in regard to Mr. Hume’s argument, considered in reference to its intrinsic merits, we close the subject by calling attention to his inconsistency. In a note appended to his Essay on Miracles, he has recorded the following words:

“Suppose all authors in all languages agree, that from the first of January, 1600, there was a total darkness all over the earth for eight days — suppose that the tradition of this event is still strong and lively among the people — that all travelers bring us accounts of the same tradition, etc. — it is evident that our philosophers ought to receive it for certain.” Now mark! these words are a part of the same Essay in which it is recorded: “A miracle, supported by any human testimony, is more properly a subject of derision than of argument.” “No kind of testimony, for any kind of miracle, can possibly amount to a probability, much less to a proof!”

Here we have a clear and explicit condemnation of his own argument against miracles; but, stranger still, he immediately proceeds to condemn his own concession:

“But should this miracle be ascribed to any new system of religion, men in all ages have been so imposed upon by ridiculous stories of that kind, that this very circumstance would be full proof of a cheat, and sufficient with all men of sense, not only to make them reject the fact, but even reject it without farther examination.” It now appears that this celebrated essayist against the miracles of the Bible exhibits himself in several antagonistic attitudes.

He first informs us that miracles cannot be proved by any kind of human testimony whatever. He next affirms that miracles can be proved; and he gives an instance in which even philosophers would be bound to receive the proof as certain. He lastly asserts that this same testimony, by which a miracle is proved to be certain, in the judgment of philosophers, if applied to the subject of religion, should be “rejected as a cheat by all men of sense, without examination.” That so acute and penetrating a metaphysician as Hume should so palpably contradict himself in so short a space, is really marvelous, and can only be accounted for by the admission of the fact, that his malignity against Christianity had supplanted his reason by prejudice. What but prejudice could lead him to affirm that a fact, though proved by such testimony that even philosophers are obliged to admit its certainty, if applied to the support of religion, that moment ceases to be true, and should “be rejected as a cheat”? How can the use to which a fact is applied either change the character of the fact or of the testimony by which it has been established? For this tergiversation of Hume we can find no parallel, unless it be in that inconsistency of the Jesuits, by which they asserted that “what is true in philosophy may be false in theology.” But what plea does Mr. Hume set up as an apology for such contradiction and absurdity? Simply this: that “men in all ages have been so imposed upon by ridiculous stories of that kind, that this very circumstance