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

TESTIMONY TO MIRACLES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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