ARTICLE III.-SECONDARY CAUSES.

EVERY fact points us to a preceding fact. The mind sees upon every event the reflection of a cause. A mighty kingdom, long the center of civilization and the synonym of power, declines from its imperial place; we turn back the pages of its history, in its religion and laws and customs, in its people and emperors and statesmen, to find the elements of decay. Why does the inference of a cause rise up in the mind as it contemplates effect? Who taught us in the seen of the present to behold the unseen of the past? When did we begin to suspect a connection between the is and the has been? Is this faith of ours in causes a true faith; will it abide? Are we certain that it is not an illusion, a fancy, splendid but unreal?

Is this idea of a cause suggested by the constant recurrence of antecedent and consequent ? Two phenomena are seen always conjoined; the first always preceding the second, the second always succeeding the first. All phenomena are found to be grouped in the same way. Suppose the mind to bring to the contemplation of these phenomena no preconceived idea of cause. Suppose the mind furnished with all its faculties,these so constituted, however, that no idea of cause and effect has been obtained, either from consciousness or the operation of an innate principle, or divine revelation. Could the mind, thus without a pre-conception, looking steadfastly at this universal conjunction of phenomena, ever attain to this inevitable idea of cause and effect? If this idea ever is obtained from observation under these circumstances, it must by the majority of minds, if not by all, be obtained from observation of natural phenomena, which are earliest noticed and can be most minutely scrutinized. Now it is very certain that if an antecedent, absolutely new, were about to be introduced into the natural world, no one could predetermine its consequent, nor after its consequent had been established, decide why some other did not make its appearance. That there is any necessary connection between the antecedent and the consequent in the natural

world, we do not know. And with no notion at the outset, that there is any such thing in the universe as cause and effect, with no insight whatever into the nature and operation of physical causes, so called, we are required to infer that one event is the cause of another. We are required to infer the existence of a general law of cause and effect, simply from the fact of sequence. Under these circumstances, why should the idea of cause arise rather than that of annihilation? Why should any idea arise? Why should we not look with stupid indifference upon events in their series? These questions cannot be answered; they must be answered, or the theory must fall to the ground. And if mere sequence in the natural world teaches us nothing, neither can mere sequence in the mental world instruct us in the idea.

Must faith in this idea of cause be therefore given up? By a consistent disciple of Locke it must be; for he has derived all ideas, directly or indirectly, from the world external,—and by no possibility can this idea originate there. Hume reasoned! correctly from his premises when he denied the existence of any

cause.

Is not this idea of cause, which men confessedly have, taught by consciousness? We are conscious that we exert power. We have power to act or to refrain from acting. We have power over our thoughts to extend them far out through infinity, beyond the central sun, beyond the utmost star, beyond the gates of Heaven, into the very presence of the Almighty God, and then to fix them on the meanest things of Earth. We can summon back the beings of departed days, and clothe them as they walked before us, and hear them as they spake, and then dismiss them to forgetfulness. The will represents this power; the will is the power. Here is something which acts, which does, which causes, of which effect may be predicated. It is true we know no more about the hidden workings of mind than about the secret constitution of matter. It may be said that cause and effect in the mind is only antecedent and consequent; that the same reasoning which has been applied to the material will apply with equal force to the mental world; and that the conclusion which we have refused to 4*

VOL. II.

draw in the one case, we have no right to draw from the same facts in the other. Already this has been admitted, and the objection is fully stated in order to give prominence to the fact, that the idea of cause which is derived from the mind is no conclusion, it is not the result of reasoning. We know from our own consciousness, that we do refer these personal effects to our individual will. The authority of consciousness in the world of mind must be supreme. He who doubts his consciousness within these limits, will doubt his existence; and he who doubts his existence must soon entertain some very grave doubts as to whether he is really in any doubt at all; for he who exists not, doubts not.

This is as solid an argument as there is to be found in the universe.

But the mind immediately perceives that there are phenomena external to itself, with the production of which it has nothing to do. The worlds would move on in their courses above our graves, and the seasons would depart and return, though the race of man had departed to return no more. Here is power exerted which is not exerted by us. The idea of cause which the mind has obtained within, it now applies without to phenomena whenever apparent. And as the efficient power within us is will, so also must the power without us be. This is the only efficient cause of which we know anything, or can conjecture anything. Any conception which we may form of an effect wholly disconnected from will, is entirely gratuitous. When we transfer the idea of cause from the me to the not me, we must transfer it in its original proportions, with its original relations. Reasoning thus, the mind arrives at the idea of the will, the first great cause.

The first link is found, but how many links long is the chain? What is the manner of the connection between the will and the effect? It is necessary to descend from the elevation which has been gained and to stand upon Earth, surrounded by things of Earth. Climb up the highest mountain, penetrate the darkest forest, stand above the loftiest waterfall, crowd into the busiest streets. God exists in nature, says the Pantheist; He exists above nature, says the Christian. We cannot stop to argue with the Pantheist. A leaf falls to the

ground; why was it? We suppose that the sharp frost has cut the thread which bound it to the twig; the summer's sun has dried up its vigor, and the autumn wind has blown it to the earth. These caused the leaf to fall, we say. Still the great question is unanswered, How is the effect below connected with the will above? Men are accustomed to reconcile their habitual expressions with their religious faith by supposing the existence of certain secondary causes. There is a power in The one power was

nature; there is a power above nature. derived from the other; that is admitted; but it is not admitted by all that the one power is non-dependent upon the other. It has been conjectured that when God made the world He created it with a self-sustaining, self-renewing power. The universe then is a vast machine, wound up at the Creation by the hand of the Almighty, and whose action is immutable, unchanging, whose wheels are forever rolling, forever crushing. Perhaps, if we should listen with our ear to the ground, we might hear the rumbling of this terrible machine, far down in the caverns of the earth. It is very certain that this theory is untenable. For why then should man pray to his Maker? How then can he pray, "From lightning and tempest, from plague, pestilence and famine, from battle and murder, and from sudden death, Good Lord, deliver us ?" If the God of Heaven no longer rules the elements by his immediate power, how can the mariner pray, when the storm is raging around him, "Thou, O Lord, who stillest the raging of the sea, hear, hear us, and save us, that we perish not ?"

Is it necessary to adopt this theory of secondary causes? Is it necessary to suppose that the circumstantia of a natural phenomena are connected with it in any wise as cause or effect? Is it necessary to interpose a cause of any kind intermediate between the particular effect and the great I AM?

It has already been said that the utmost which can be known of secondary causes, supposing them to exist, is, that they are antecedent in point of time to certain effects. We can measure the arc of external phenomena, but cannot calculate the angle of internal cause. What reason can be assigned why fire should burn and not freeze? We may pry into the constitution

of matter as curiously as we please, and subject the elements to every test within our power, and our only conclusion will be that fire burns because it burns, and this is as far as it is possible to go. Every secondary cause is the effect of some other supposed secondary cause. Long must we tread this toilsome stairway before we shall mount up to God.

That sequence of events to which we are accustomed, has not always been observed. Those natural laws, by force of which, as we suppose, events produce events, in ancient times were violated. A dead man was quickened into life, and a star wandered from its orbit, and a storm was stilled by the magic of a word; in more ancient times the waters of a sea arose on either hand, the sun hastened not to go down, and the moon stood still in her place. These were miracles. God's will was immediately concerned in producing them, not mediately through the intervention of secondary causes. He commanded and it was done. He willed and it was accomplished. And why may it not be supposed that God always works in nature as in the cases to which reference has been made,-immediately, directly; not mediately, not indirectly? Such a belief would in no wise detract from the authority of a miracle; a miracle is only a miracle to us.

But why then this arrangement of nature? it will be asked. Secondary causes certainly seem to exert an influence. Why the appearance, if the reality does not exist?

Is there really any difficulty here? Man has been so created that he cannot foresee a single event of the future. He has received no prophetic power. Events file before him, going into the past. From any independent knowledge, he cannot foresee that the sun will rise to-morrow, nor from the seed which he has sown can he foretell what sort the harvest will be. Yet his comfort, his very existence, depends upon events thus hidden from him in the future. How is he to know whether the food which he is about to eat will kill or nourish him? He must have some evidence of the presence of poison, other than an experimental knowledge of its effects upon his system. Therefore phenomena are arranged in clusters. Therefore it has been wisely ordered that one event shall prognosticate another. For each and every event there is a corres