Part 21 (1/2)

”But would not you also reject it, upon the same principle?”

”Of course I should, if the principle be true; but ah! my friend, pardon me for acknowledging my infirmities; my miserable scepticism tosses me to and fro. I have not your strength of will; and I fear that the rejection in such a case would cost me many qualms and doubts. Such is the infirmity of our nature, and so much may be said on all sides! And I fear that I should be more likely to have these uneasy thoughts, inasmuch as I fancy I see a difficult dilemma (I but now referred to it), which would be proposed to us by some keen-sighted opponent,--I say not with justice,--who would endeavor to show that we had abandoned our principle in the very attempt to maintain it; that the bow from which we were about to launch so fatal an arrow at the enemy had broken in our hands, and left us defenceless.”

”What dilemma do you refer to?” said Fellowes.

”I think such an adversary might perhaps say: 'That same uniform experience on which you justify the rejection of all miracles,--does it extend only to one part of nature, to the physical and material only, or to the mental and spiritual also?' In other words, if there were such things as miracles at all, might there be miracles in connection with mind as well as in connection with matter? What would you say?”

”What can I say, but what Hume himself says, so truly and so beautifully, in his essay on 'Necessary Connection,' and 'On Liberty and Necessity'; namely, that there is a uniformity in both the moral and physical world, and that nature does not transgress certain limits in either the one or the other'? You must remember that he says so?”

”I do,” said Harrington. ”Now, I am afraid our astute adversary would say that such a complication of false testimony as we have supposed would itself be a flagrant violation of the established series of sequences, on which, as applied to the physical world, we justify the rejection of all miracles; that we have got rid of a miracle by admitting a miracle; and that our uniform experience has broken down with us.”

”But again I say, there never was such a case of testimony,”

urged Fellowes.

”I wish this could help us; but it plainly will not; because we have concluded that, if there were such testimony, we must believe it false, and therefore should admit that the miracle of its falsehood was, in that case, necessary to be believed; not to say that there has been, in the opinion of millions, testimony often given to miracles, which, if false, does imply that the laws of human nature must have been turned topsy-turvy,--and I, for my part, know not how to disprove it.

If, in such cases, the testimony, the falsity of which would be a miracle, is not to be rejected, then we must admit that the miracle which it supports is true. I must leave it there.” said Harrington, with an air of comic resignation; ”I cannot answer for any thing except that you may reject both miracles alternatively, if that will be any comfort to you, without being able to disbelieve simultaneously. If you believe the testimony false, you must believe the alleged miracle false; but you will have then the moral miracle to believe. If you believe the testimony true, you will then believe the physical miracle true. Perhaps the best way will be to believe both alternately in rapid succession; and you will then hardly perceive the difficulty at all!”

There was here a brief pause. Harrington suddenly resumed. ”These are very perplexing considerations. One thing, I confess, has often puzzled me much; and that is,--what should we do, in what state of mind should we be, if we did see a miracle?”

”Of what use is the discussion of such a particular case, when you know it is impossible that we should ever see it realized?” replied Fellowes.

”Of course it is; just as it is impossible that we should ever see levers perfectly inflexible, or cords perfectly flexible. Nevertheless, it is perfectly possible to entertain such a hypothetical case, and to reason with great conclusiveness on the consequences of such a supposition; and in the same way we can imagine that we have seen a miracle; and what then?”

”Why, if we were to see one, of course seeing is believing. We must give up our principle,” said Fellowes, laughing.

”Do you think so? I think we should be very foolish then. How can we be sure that we have seen it? Can it appeal to any thing stronger than senses, and have not our senses often beguiled us?” Must we not rather abide by that general induction from the evidence to which our ordinary experience points us? In other words, ought we not to adhere to the great principle we have already laid down, that a miracle is impossible?”

”But, according to this, if we err in that principle, and G.o.d were to work a miracle for the very purpose of convincing us, it would be impossible for him to attain his purpose.”

”I think it would, my friend, I confess; just for the reason that, since we believe a miracle to be impossible, we must believe it impossible for even G.o.d to work one; and therefore, if we are mistaken, and it is possible for him to work one, it is still impossible that he should convince us of it.”

”I really know not how to go that length.”

”Why not? You acknowledge that your senses have deceived you; you know that they have deceived others; and it is on that very ground that you dispose of very many cases of supposed miracles which you are not willing, or are not able, to resolve otherwise. If I believe, then, that a miracle is impossible, I must admit that, if I err in that, it is still impossible for G.o.d himself to convince me of it.”

Fellowes looked grave, but said nothing.

”And do you know,” said Harrington, ”I have sometimes thought that Hume, so far from representing his argument from 'Transubstantiation'

fairly, (there is an obvious fallacy on the very face of it, to which I do not now allude,) is himself precisely in the condition in which he represents the believer in miracles?”

Fellowes smiled incredulously. ”First, however,” said he, ”what is the more notorious fallacy to which you allude?”

”It is so barefaced an a.s.sumption, that I am surprised that his acuteness did not see it; or that, if he saw it, he could have descended to make a point by appearing not to see it. It has been often pointed out, and you will recollect it the moment I name it. You know he commences with the well-known argument of Tillotson against Transubstantiation and flatters himself that he sees a similar argument in relation to miracles. Now it certainly requires but a moderate degree of sagacity to see that the very point in which Tillotson's argument tells, is that very one in which Hume's is totally unlike it. Tillotson says, that when it is pretended that the bread and wine which are submitted to his own senses have been 'transubstantiated into flesh and blood,'

the alleged phenomena contradict his senses; and that as the information of his senses as much comes from G.o.d as the doctrines of Scripture (and even the miracles of Scripture appeal to nothing stronger), he must believe his senses in this case in preference to the a.s.sertions of the priest. Hume then goes on quietly to take it for granted that the miracles to which consent is asked in like manner contradict the testimony of the senses of him to whom they appeal is made; whereas, in fact, the a.s.sertor of the miracles does not pretend that he who denies them has ever seen them, or had the opportunity of seeing them.

To make the argument a.n.a.logous, it ought to be shown that the objector, having been a spectator of the pretended miracles, when and where they were affirmed to have been wrought, had then and there the testimony of his senses that no such events had taken place. It is mere juggling with words to say that never to have seen a like event is the same argument of an event's never having occurred, as never to have seen that event when it was alleged to have taken place under our very eyes!”

”I give up the reasoning on this point,” said Fellowes, ”but how, I should like to know, do you retort the argument upon him?”

”Thus; you see that we maintain that a miracle is incredible per se, because impossible; not to be believed, therefore, on any evidence.”