On the whole doctrine of final causes: a dissertation ... with an introductory chapter on the character of modern Deism

Front matter

ON THE WHOLE DOCTRINE OF FINAL CAUSES. A DISSERTATION IN THREE PARTS, WITH AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. BY WILLIAM J. IRONS, M.A. of queen's college, oxford, and curate of st. mary's, newington, surrey. nATEP AIKA1E, KAI 'O KOZM02 2E OTK ErNs}, Ersl AE 2E ErNslN, KAI 'OYTOI ErNllZAN 'OTI 2T ME AnEZTEIAAZ- KAI ErNslPISA ATTQI2 TO ONOMA XOT. IHZOr2. IHSOrl. LONDON: J G., & F. RIVINGTON, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD, AND WATERLOO-PLACE. 18:16. T. C. HANSARD, PATERNOSTER-HOW.

Preface

. So little attention is ordinarily paid to what an Author says of his own performance, that a Preface is now almost thought to be a superfluous piece of labour. But for the sake of those who may yet consider it as a courtesy due to the Reader, as Avell as for my own sake, I shall venture to trespass for a few lines. It may appear to many, that the phrase " Whole Doctrine/' used in the Title-page, requires some explanation ; which, I own, I have difficulty in briefly giving ; though on a general review of the Dissertation, I cannot persuade myself to alter it. I would, indeed, if it be necessary, disclaim the vanity of im plying thereby, that much more may not be said on this subject, than I have brought for ward : and yet I must say, that I have attempted to ascertain the exact Truth, that is to say, the " Whole Doctrine," in opposition

PREFACE.

. to the partial depreciations of some writers, and exajrcrerations of others. And I cannot help thinking, that if I were to omit the word " Whole," the title would be less suitable to the book than it is at present. Whether it be so, or not ; or whether the question be of any importance, I must leave to the decision of the Public, who will be the ultimate judges, not of this only, but (which is of much more consequence) of the Book itself. I could not acquit myself of ingratitude, if I were here to omit all reference to the late Regius Professor of Divinity, in the University of Oxford, the Rev. Edward Burton, D.D., whose loss the Church and the University have such deep and painful reason to deplore. Having received the permission of that distinguished divine to dedicate this Dissertation to him, I am bound to state, that he could not have been held responsible for every opinion herein advanced.

Well knowing that no patronage could ultimately benefit any book which is destitute of all intrinsic merit, I was yet induced to seek the sanction of Professor Burton's name, thinking that it might secure a fair portion of attention for an

PREFACE.

. V unknown author, which in the crowd and bustle of the world, he might not otherwise have obtained. I was also anxious to testify the high respect which I then bore to his character ; and with which I now regard his memory ; as a man, who by his learned and arduous labours, had so ably supported the cause of sound Christianity ; which sacred cause, I venture to hope that this Dissertation may contribute in some degree to maintain. My motives for seeking the learned Professor's sanction cannot now, I trust, be liable to mis construction ; and I will not pretend that in giving me that sanction, he intended any thing more than an expression of his kind estimate of my character. I could, indeed, wish that this Volume were more worthy of such patronage. In the hope of making it so, I have already delayed its publication for several months.

The new and arduous duties which I have been called to perform, (which left me no leisure even to correct the press,) are my sole excuse for the brevity and imperfection of the Third Part of the Work in particular ; the subject of which is of such powerful inter est and high importance, that I purpose at some future time, should my present attempt VI

PREFACE.

. prove successful, to publish a distinct treatise upon it. With regard to one particular, in the style of the Dissertation, I crave some indulgence ; I fear that I may sometimes appear egotistic, because I have not in general moulded my sentences in the fashionable plural form, [" we"] nor in the awkward impersonal sin gular: which results from this circumstance; that while I was writing, my thoughts generally flowed in the same channel as if I had been speaking, and I could not afterwards alter it, without introducing a wearisome uniformity and pompous stiffness, which would have been intolerable. And I conceived that this rheto rical manner might not be very reprehensible (unless it degenerated into looseness of expression) in a professed Dissertation ; which is, so to speak, a kind of oration at the bar of Human Reason.

An apology may, I freely admit, be re quired, for the style of some part of the Intro ductory Chapter, especially in a work of this kind, where precision of expression is to be expected. But I have thought that the

PREFACE.

. VII practical truths therein enforced might per haps produce a stronger impression, by being communicated in the natural, if somewhat impassioned, language, in which they were first written, than if they were enunciated in a milder tone, and with a more rigid manner. Of the subject-matter of the Volume, it were needless for me to speak, as no observations of mine can enhance its momentous importance; and all necessaTy information respecting my drift and design, will be found in the commencement of the Dissertation. As Truth has been my object, and not singu larity of sentiment, it will not seem strange that I have sometimes advanced opinions which have been held by those who have preceded me in the same inquiry. And though I hope that some important Truths, which seem to a great extent to have escaped previous observation, are here put forth ; and some plausible errors detected ; (otherwise, I could have no right to appear thus before the public ;) yet I cannot of course pretend that all is novel, which is here brought forward. I have some times only attempted a clearer statement and development of admitted Truth; which may,

PREFACE.

. perhaps, be oftentimes as valuable as original discovery. " If I have done well, it is that which I desired ; if I have done ill, it is that which I could attain unto." But if, while earnestly endeavouring lo discover Truth, I have unwittingly said any thing injurious thereto, it is my hearty desire that it may meet with that faithful exposure which error deserves; and which is as distinct from asperity of censure, as honesty is from ill-nature. From the Critics who may honour me with their notice, I have no right to demand indul gence for my errors, whatever may be the character of my motives. I only ask, there fore, what I have but little doubt that I shall obtain, the fair and candid treatment which fellow -workers in the mine of Truth have a right to expect of each other.

Introduction

. ON THE CHARACTER OF MODERN DEISM. The history of man, for nearly six thousand years, presents us with the phenomenon of a slowly-advancing civilization, which forms a stern antithesis to those visions and hopes of the future, which Philanthropists often entertain. This tardy progress of human society is not to be accounted for by vainglorious imputations on the intelligence of former times. They who ascribe so much to modern illumination, and speculate largely on the possible extension of knowledge and happiness, are not therefore the wisest or most thoughtful of their generation. In their bold calculations of the glories of a coming era, they take but little notice of the obstacles which always arise to thwart the operation of the noblest schemes, and render abortive the strongest efforts for promoting human good.

Above all, they forget that mighty counteracting cause — the original depravity of the hearts of men — which (unchecked, as the ma jority always are, by a sense of religion) bursts forth, overpoweringly, from time to time, bearing down the B

INTRODUCTION.

. virtue of the good, and defying the sagacity of the wise. Thus, it would seem that " vain philosophy" delights to build faery palaces on the ridges of a volcano, beneath which, evermore, the pent-up lava boils and flames. The Moral Eras in the history of our race are but few, and have generally been accomplished by the operation of unobserved causes. Nature loves not to usher in her great events with pomp and ostenta tious noise. We pass from the old year to the new, and hear no announcement of the change ; and thus when man is passing from one stage of civilization to another — when one moral cycle is completed, and another is about to begin — no trumpet's voice is heard proclaiming it to the Universe. But the transition is not the less real, because thus silently performed, and unmarked by the multitude. — When the obscure shepherds of Judea hastened to the villages of Palestine, telling that they had seen at midnight a sudden glory, and had heard mysterious music from a choir of the descended Seraphim — the great, and wise, and noble of the earth knew nothing of the era that then began to dawn on man kind.

The few who listened to the wonderful story might smile at what they deemed a rustic reverie. But it was then, in very truth, that an era com menced, of all Eras the greatest, the influence whereof shall be felt and seen in all future time ! HE who then " came to visit us in all humility " made known to man " the mystery hid from ages and generations " — a lowly individual of a despised people, HE revealed a religion which, by the native might of goodness and of truth, was destined, ere long, to shake (that citadel of falsehood) the massy fabric of Heathen superstition ; and which finally overthrew the most gigantic confederacy of priestly jealousy, political hatred, and imperial power, that had been ever known among mankind. He sent forth his unarmed messengers to proclaim war with the opinions of all men — bidding them to spare no prejudices, but trample on the idols, and set at nought the philosophy of the world.

And the spiritual kingdom which they founded (however its advances to universal dominion may be checked for a time) shall eventually prevail against all oppo sition ; for the decree which once went forth will not be revoked — " The nation and kingdom that will not serve thee, shall perish, yea those nations shall be utterly wasted ! " But no Era, no moral revolution in the history of man, ought to come upon us unawares. There are unerring signs whereby the change may be foreseen. Though the nations be keeping high festival — like the Chaldean monarch of old — a solitary hand "coming forth from the obscure" may be tracing words of omen, which seem to have no meaning to the ungifted gaze of the careless passer-by ! Or it may happen that the minds of all men are possessed with vague and general apprehension of what is about to be — and they will stand in expectation, like b

INTRODUCTION.

. the inhabitants of a city who have heard the rum bling of an earthquake, and are waiting for the shock. And, when this is not the case, there will be fore-runners — philosophers or prophets — the har bingers of future times. They may be scorned or martyred — for (in the language of the German poet) " These have been always crucified and burned I"1 but they leave their testimony behind them. An Era is at hand ! Oftentimes before that Era may arrive, the external aspect of things may be such as to lead the superficial to conclude, that all change must be far distant. There may be a strong revulsion in the general feeling — a sudden check to the onward progress of events, and even a recurrence to the abandoned opinions and maxims of a former time. The superficial will be deceived, and conclude, that now the advancing tide of human things has ebbed once more, therefore it will never return ; while the next flowing of the waters may sweep away some huge promon tory that seemed eternal !

Even now, while I write, an Era may be at hand ! Whoever will look steadily at the moral aspect of Christendom, at the present moment, may find abun dant reason for anxious thought and perplexed anticipation. 1 From a MS. translation of Goethe's Faust — by a Gentleman formerly of Queen's College, Oxford. Romish Christianity, and a liberal Deism possess the continent of Europe. The advocates of a maximum and a minimum of Faith dwell strangely together, in perfect amity, mutually tolerating each other. Not the Romanism of the 16th century, nor the Deism of the 18th, — for these could never co exist. The experiment was tried in France a hundred years ago, and after short lapse of time the hostile principles came into actual contact, and in their ex plosion shattered even the iron frame-work of Feudal society !

The Romanist and the Infidel have alike learned wisdom ; both have moderated their preten sions. But their natures are not changed, though their characters be modified. The modern liberal Deism is by its very nature aggressive ; and the best terms which Romanism can obtain of her ancient enemy only provide, that the aggression shall be made by a gradual process, which may postpone, for a while, all serious danger. The two parties appear, with mutual concession, to meet each other half-way. An Abbe may now preach the doctrines of Neology without provoking the thunders of theVatican ; while, on the other hand, the " Enlightened" acquiesce in the miracles of the mendicant priests, deeming some superstition necessary, at present, for the vulgar. And can we doubt of the tendency of this state of things? — The present generation in France1 have not 1 More than half the children born in Paris are illegitimate. More than half the poor die in Hospitals ! —See Alison's Hist. of the French Revolution:

INTRODUCTION.

. now recovered from the effects of the almost Atheistic education of their infancy and childhood ; and, in like manner, will the rising population of Europe have entailed on them the curse of the crude infidelity and liberalized religion of their fathers. England — separated from the great continental nations by her insular position, her religion, and even her prejudices — was long preserved from the contagion of foreign Infidelity and Superstition. At length the plague has reached even to us. Without doubt it is, in some degree, tempered by our peculiar climate, but the symptoms of the disorder are undeniable. However much the truth be dis guised, we cannot be ignorant that, within the last twenty years, there has been a rapid spread among us of subtle modifications of Popery and Infidelity.

Increased intercourse with Europe brought with it new opinions, new habits, and eventually new in stitutions. It has been remarked, that even our old national parties are extinct, and new ones have risen up, analogous to those on the continent — the de fenders and the aggressors — the religious and the " liberal." Yet it may be seen, that there is this striking distinction between the present condition of England and that of the rest of the nations : — The contest of our parties, instead of being a mere " War of opinions" seems likely to assume a Religious character. And it may surely be marked as a circumstance of high import. For if a manly, rational, and scriptural Christianity is not to be wholly swept from the earth — if it is to be any where preserved for future generations — where shall it be, if not in England 1 Three hundred years have passed, since England was severed from Papal Europe, and assumed that character which she has since sustained.

She has been placed on a proud eminence. From the days of the Reformation until now, her Church has been looked to, as the bulwark of the Reformed Faith — the headquarters of the Protestantism of the world. She arose, as from the slumber of ages — shook off, with giant strength, the mass of weighty corruptions that had accumulated in the darkness, and stood forth, dauntless in her purity — the witness for God, amidst " a world lying in wickedness." " Truth's deathless voice had paus'd among mankind" — but, now, it was heard once more ! — and the nations were thrilled with tumultuous expectations, " As some lone man who in a desert hears The music of his home." Centuries of ignorance and darkness had gone before, while there had risen up, but at intervals, some solitary Wicliffe, to herald the coming change.

But at length it burst upon the world. The most powerful engine that had ever been brought to bear on human civilization, and which must itself be considered as marking an era in man's history, — the Printing-press, — had been in previous operation, and, by its silent agency, accelerated the mighty crisis of the Reformation. The Rulers of this

INTRODUCTION.

. world mingled variously in the events of that most momentous time, and have left a various fame behind them — of * ambition,1 policy,2 treachery,3 virtuous magnanimity,4 or enthusiasm of religious chivalry5. But the Reformation was the result of a mightier power than theirs. That Era, doubtless, brought with it its blessings and its curses : a future era may annihilate the latter, and leave only the former. The pulpit and the press, without denial, have spread controversy and dissen sion where formerly the unanimity of ignorance had prevailed ; but this may only be the necessary ordeal through which man must pass, to arrive at a nobler state, — the unanimity of knowledge. The weapons of religious strife, in these later times, may (if the parallel be allowable) be likened to the fatal machi nery of modern warfare, which, while it fearfully augments the sanguinary character of war, diminishes its moral malignity and the frequency of its occur rence, and may possibly lead at last to that glorious period, when " there shall be war no more."

The divines of the English Reformation, like armed champions, clothed in the mail of their " ponderous erudition," bore down resistlessly on their encamped enemies, and, with an ardour that dared danger and death, achieved an immortal vic tory. Their immediate descendants retained all their high-wrought zeal; but the mantle of cloistered * ' Henry VIII. ; 2 Leo X. ; ' Charles V. ; « Frederick of Saxony; and 5 Gustavus of Sweden, may be instanced. •4 learning descended not on them. It was a fatal loss,' and, as such, not unperceived by the enemies of the reformed faith, both Romish and Infidel. These, though maintaining hostility to each other, adroitly availed themselves of the error of their common foe, and sedulously cultivated the lore which the descendants of the Reformers had neglected.

They solicited not then the suffrages of the populace — for that had been a vain attempt, — but, in the still retire ment of a philosophic or a courtly circle, defended, with elaborate care, the superstitions of the past, or the scepticism of the coming age. But far different are the times wherein our lot is cast. Our Reformed Church now emulates the learn ing of her early confessors and martyrs, but seems almost fearful of a revival of their enthusiastic zeal for God and truth ; and Romanism and Infidelity have taken signal advantage of her error. For with them may now be found the popular eloquence of the press, the pulpit, and the platform ! Their wisdom despises not auxiliaries so strong : they have abandoned their ancient hatred to each other ; and hoping, at length, to enlist on their side the honest earnestness and powerful prejudices of the populace, they have united their forces, for open war, beneath banners inscribed with the outraged name of " Liberal!"

The Infidel, as the more powerful of the two allies, dictates the terms of the confederacy ; and the Ro- 1 Deeply deplored by Bishop Jewel. See the Life prefixed to the Apology, p. 62. See also Luthcri Epist. vol. ii. 307.

INTRODUCTION.

. manist, as the reward of his faithfulness to the common cause, claims to be second ruler in the kingdom of the New Antichrist. There was a time when less of policy was wont to mark the counsels of the Infidel ; there was a time — nor has it long passed by — when the apostles of dis belief, inspired with fiendly madness, foamed forth their rabid blasphemies of the " rights of — devils, to lay waste the peace of earth and defy the majesty of heaven ! What marvel was it, that then, all men, as by a common instinct, recoiled from the hideous absurdities of possessed savages — the unnatural enor mities of naked demoniac ferocity? But now the Infidel and his new ally, have left unused no popular artifice, which fraud could suggest or dishonesty employ. They are conciliatory in their tone, and moderate, though steady and undisguised in their advances.

They enter on no sudden crusade against the established opinions of the multitude ; but rather engage their worst passions in their favor, by direct ing all their fierce hostility against, what they insolently call, the " bigotry" of those who are the staunch foes alike of irreligion and superstition, and who are, as yet, the authorised teachers of our people. But Romanism can, in this country, and in these times, only advance, under the protection of the ample shield of " liberal" infidelity, and it behoves us to know well this our arch-enemy. The infidelity of this age assumes a Deistic rather than a sceptical or Atheistic form. If it had been otherwise, it could not have kept terms with Popery. If it had been otherwise, it could never have be come extensively popular. It seems to be tacitly admitted that there is a kind of germ of " natural religion," which is the only essential part of every creed that is found among men ; which the philosopher may see and appreciate in them all, while he winks at the peculiar follies which may accom pany it.

The coarse and infamous maxim, which, at its first announcement long since was repu diated with disgust, now passes current among us — 'that a man is no more accountable for his re ligious belief, than for the colour of his dress.'1 This it is which is now vaunted as " liberality." Need I bid the christian to recall, and place side by side with this impiety, (this black stigma upon the vera city of God !) the dread denunciations, on the one hand, or the " hope full of immortality," on the other, wherewith our divine master accompanied his mes sage of salvation to man ? But " liberality" is now " all in all," and honesty passes for nothing ! Libe rality, which, being interpreted, means nothing less than latitude in religion, and discontent in politics. There are those, even in what is called (perhaps to distinguish it from the church) the " religious world," who cherish this spirit, which wears so fair a name. There are those (and it were needless to define them more plainly) who find a specious " common ground" Lord Brougham.

INTRODUCTION.

. whereon they may meet and associate with the pro fessor, or the despiser, of every creed ; who seem to imagine that a " voluntary" surrender of honesty, is to be regarded as the precursor of a smooth millennium now gradually drawing nigh ! A prospect, indeed, less like to that which the thoughtful christian may look for, than to the delusive dreams of the visionary philanthropist; which yet (alas !) are too often deemed sufficient data for the fantastic schemes of our economic and reforming patriots ! The Christian Church of this realm has, indeed, a powerful enemy to encounter — an enemy, at one time, vindictive and fierce, with menacing brow, and insult ing tongue ; at another, approaching with gentle smiles and words of courtesy. But our church is not now ignorant of her dangers ; and let her not be unmindful of the honour, which, in past times as well as these present, has been conferred upon her; in that she is selected as the " witness for the truth !" — for she will answer it to her God, if she be either awed by terrors, or seduced by treacherous wiles !

It is not reasoning, or thoughtfulness ; but, I repeat, a false " liberality," which is at once the parent and the patron of modern Infidelity. A liberality in morals, which will forgive all delinquencies, save those that are openly scandalous. A liberality in religion, which pardons all motley varieties of creeds, reserv ing its sole anathema for honest uncompromising Christianity. For not only is a reverence for the authority of the Church counted a mark of superstition and weakness, but hardly can a man, in modern life, give utterance to a peculiarly Christian sentiment, without drawing on himself the cold glances of his wondering friends ; and he must express himself with scrupulous caution, if he would avoid the blasting imputation of fanaticism or monomania. And there fore even christian men, of unblemished lives and undoubting faith, too often blink their true principles when thev intermix with the world's society ; and listen, without reproving, to dogmas of falsehood, to unchristian morality, or perhaps to scoffing ribaldry.

To this is it owing, that even when the actual subject of discourse is connected with the Christian faith, it is toned down to the fastidious ears of the " liberal," so that but a hair's-breadth is left, between Christianity and pure Deism. And indeed, it might well become us to reflect, how large a portion of what passes as Christianity is but Deism in disguise ! For the tactics of Infidelity are now such as the world has not seen before. There is no direct assault ; but a hypocritical parley is proclaimed, to give time for the process of undermining. Advantage is taken of the differences among Christians, to inculcate a belief in the " uncertainty" or uselessness of religion ; — which is about as rational a conclusion as to infer, from the differences among governments, that all government is evil, and anarchy the greatest benefit ! But any sophistry is successful when men's hearts are willing to be de ceived by their heads. And thus the opinion gains

INTRODUCTION.

. ground, that in matters of faith, all questions, of more or less, are of but trifling moment ; while, at the same time, the Christian " Revelation" and the Christian " Church," may be artfully mentioned in terms of respectful apathy. This same spirit of " liberality" which has thus blighted the social Christianity of our land, has breathed its influence over a large portion of our literature. Too often are " Jehovah ! Jove, and Lord," most profanely classed together. Too often have even professed Christian writers gracefully diluted the peculiar doctrines of our religion, to make their volumes palatable to the literary sceptic, or escape the sneer of " liberal" criticism. If in their pages " our Saviour" is spoken of at all, it is almost in such in distinct and general terms as might suit the master in a purer school of morals, but which seem too like degradation when applied to him "Who thought it not robbery to be equal with God."

Or, at the best, He is referred to as a Benefactor of our race, who perhaps made the pathway to heaven somewhat more convenient ! While the stern but unpalatable Christian Truth is forgotten— (though pronounced by the voice of our Redeemer himself, when on earth) " I am The Way — The Truth — and the Life! No man cometh unto the Father but by Me !" It may doubtless be urged, with truth, that the guilty extravagances of sectarian folly have struck aghast the sober believer. The fierce Sirocco-blast of fanatical frenzy has, truly, seared the verdure of the " Garden of the Lord.'' And thus it is, that a strict profession of Christianity is, oftentimes, now reckoned a reproach. Thus it is, that the idea of a caricature of Holiness has almost become identified with the very name of "sanctity" — and too often may we search far, and search vainly — for a true portraiture of a " Saint " of God !

And should it be thus ? Are we to be frightened out of sincerity ? — sneered out of truth ? — laughed out of holiness ? Or is it indeed a mark of sober wisdom, to sit still as if stunned into Stoicism, because we are appalled at the ghastly activities of some exulting maniac ? It is true, that Infidelity has found many a bitter sarcasm against our faith, in the ardent vagaries of false or misguided enthusiasts. It is true, that the fiery footmarks of unthinking zealots have left a brand on the ground which they scorched as they traversed. It is true, that dishonesty and ignorance have both assumed the mask of earnestness.1 But it is also true, that the infidel has availed himself, with equal dexterity, of the dormant calmness of our conscious orthodoxy. And, indeed, true heart relio-ion has more to fear, in this world's cold atmosphere, from the chill of neglect, than from the warmth of over-nourishment.