VII. Wit and Logic.
“Who would say that truth ought to stand disarmed against falsehood, or that the enemies of the faith shall be at liberty to frighten the faithful with hard words or jeer at them with lively sallies of wit, while the Christians ought never to write except with a coldness of style enough to set the reader asleep?”—Augustine.
WIT AND LOGIC.
“I was not gone far before I heard the sound of trumpets and alarms, which seemed to proclaim the march of an Enemy; and as I afterwards found was in reality what I apprehended it. There appeared at a great distance a very shining light, and in the midst of it a person of most beautiful aspect; her name was Truth. On her right hand, there marched a male deity, who bore several quivers on his shoulders, and grasped several arrows in his hand. His name was Wit.”—Addison.
In her essay on Heine, George Eliot writes: “Every one who has had the opportunity of making the comparison, will remember that the effect produced on him by some witticisms is closely akin to the effect produced on him by subtle reasoning which lays open a fallacy or absurdity; and there are persons whose delight in such reasoning always manifests itself in laughter. This affinity of wit with ratiocination is the more obvious in proportion as the species of wit is higher and deals less with words and with superficialities than with the essential qualities of things. Some of Dr. Johnson’s most admirable witticisms consist in the suggestion of an analogy which immediately exposes the absurdity of an action or proposition; and it is only their ingenuity, condensation and instantaneousness which lift them from reasoning into wit.” The opinion of George Eliot has been shared by others. Pitt declared that “all wit is true reasoning,” and Rogers says that “wit is truth.” A French writer has observed that “reason needs to be armed with the terrible epigram.” And even solemn John Milton writes of Plato’s dialogues, “There is scarce one of them, especially wherein some notable sophister lies sweating and turmoiling under the inevitable and merciless dilemmas of Socrates, but he that reads, were it Saturn himself, would be robbed of more than a smile.”
There are in literature abundant examples of the condensed logic of wit,—the logic that exposes a fallacy, answers an objection and demolishes an argument, without resorting to major and minor premise and formal conclusion. One or two of these may pave the way to the main purpose of this chapter. “Where was your Protestant Church before Luther?” asked a Catholic of Wilkes. “Did you wash your face this morning?” said Wilkes. “I did, sir.” “Where was your face before you washed it?” The logic of wit as employed by Dr. Johnson, is referred to by George Eliot. On one occasion it was debated whether a clergyman who had five years before been guilty of some grave sin should be reinstated. Johnson inquired whether the man had repented. It was admitted that he had. “Then,” said Johnson, “if he has repented, is he not good enough to go to heaven?” “Certainly.” “Why, sir, then there is no objection. A man who is good enough to go to heaven is good enough to be a clergyman.” Johnson denounced Lord Bolingbroke in the following immortal analogy: “Sir, he was a scoundrel and a coward; a scoundrel for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality, a coward because he had not resolution enough to fire it off himself, but left half-a-crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw the trigger after his death.”
A certain clergyman who had been addicted to bawling and roaring in the pulpit said, “I once thought it was the thunder that killed, and know now that it is the lightning that does the execution. I mean to thunder less and lighten more.” Sir Thomas Overbury punctures certain pretensions thus: “The man who has not anything to boast of but his illustrious ancestors, is like a potato—the only good belonging to him is underground.” Thompson, of the Westminster Review, defended the Radicals against the attacks of the Whigs in this manner: “Noah was a Radical when, hearing the world was to be drowned, he went about such a commonsense proceeding as making for himself a ship to swim in. An antediluvian Whig would have laid together half-a-dozen sticks for an ark and called it a ‘virtual representation.’”
The principle that underlies these instances is obvious. The form may vary but in every case there is an analogy that serves all the purposes of formal logic,—“an analogy which immediately exposes the absurdity of an action or proposition.” The writers of the Bible understood and employed the same principle.
I.
One of the best examples of its use is found in Nathan’s parable. He goes to David and tells him: “There were two men in our city; the one rich, the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb, which he had brought and nourished up; and it grew up together with him and with his children; and it did eat of his own meat and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his own flock and of his own herd to dress it for the wayfaring man that was come unto him; but took the poor man’s lamb and dressed it for the man that was come unto him.” Such an action is so atrocious that it kindles David’s wrath. He little suspects the purpose of the wily prophet. “As the Lord liveth,” he cries, “the man that hath done this thing shall surely die! And he shall restore the lamb four-fold because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.” Beware, David, beware! This Nestor-prophet, this Nathan of the subtle wit and keen-edged tongue hath digged a pit for thee and thou hast fallen into it. Swiftly the prophet smites the bewildered king with the conclusion, “Thou art the man!” Could a volume of reasoning have so impressed David with the enormity of his crime as this simple “analogy” of Nathan?
A similar instance is found in the first book of Kings. Ahab the king of Israel had allowed the Syrian general, Ben-hadad, to escape. One of the prophets, determined to rebuke him, disguised himself and sat by the wayside, waiting until the king should pass by. “And as the king passed by, he cried unto the king and said: Thy servant went out into the midst of the battle, and behold a man turned aside and brought a man unto me and said, Keep this man; if by any means he be missing, then shall thy life be for his life or else thou shalt pay a talent of silver. And as thy servant was busy here and there he was gone.” Ahab does not suspect the snare of the prophet. What would my lord, the king, decide? Shall thy servant pay the forfeit? “And the king of Israel said unto him, So shall thy judgment be; thyself hath decided it.” And he made haste, removed his disguise, and said to the king: “Thus saith the Lord: Because thou hast let go out of thine hand a man whom I had appointed to utter destruction, therefore thy life shall go for his life, and thy people for his people.” Ahab has judged himself. No wonder he was vexed. “And the king of Israel went to the house heavy and displeased.” Nothing so disconcerts one as the recoil of his own logic.
Let us place side by side with these illustrations one or two pieces of the same kind of reasoning from Shakespeare. The Court Fool endeavors to show Lear his own pitiful lack of wisdom in giving away his kingdom to his daughters:—
“Fool.—Nuncle, give me an egg, and I’ll give thee two crowns.
“Lear.—What two crowns shall they be?
“Fool.—Why, after I have clove the egg i’ the middle and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i’ the middle and gavest away both parts, thou borest thine ass on thy back o’er the dirt; thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away.”
Upon another occasion the following dialogue occurs:—
“Fool.—Canst thou tell how an oyster makes his shell?
“Lear.—No.
“Fool.—Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
“Lear.—Why?
“Fool.—Why to put his head in; not to give it away to his daughters and leave his horns without a case.”
Lear is so stung with the sense of his folly by these “analogies” of his jester that he exclaims in rage and bitterness, “I shall forget my nature!” It is the argument of Nathan, “Thou art the man.”
Upon the same principle, but in a different way, the Psalmist reasons with those who “slay the widow and the stranger and murder the fatherless,” and who say, “The Lord shall not see, neither shall the God of Jacob regard it.” Thus he argues: “Understand, ye brutish among the people; and ye fools, when will ye be wise? He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that formed the eye, shall he not see?”
Under this head must we also place the judgment of Solomon, when the two women came before him, each claiming the living child. “Then said the king, The one saith, This is my son that liveth and thy son is dead; and the other saith, Nay; but thy son is the dead and mine is the living one. And the king said, Bring me a sword. And they brought a sword before the king. And the king said, Divide the living child in two and give half to one and half to the other. Then spoke the woman whose the living child was unto the king, for her heart yearned upon her son, and she said, O my Lord, give her the living child and in no wise slay it. But the other said, Let it be neither thine nor mine, but divide it. Then the king answered and said, Give her (the first) the living child, and in no wise slay it; she is the mother thereof.” Solomon had to use a sharp argument, but he settled the controversy.
II.
The “suggestion of an analogy that immediately exposes the absurdity of an action or proposition,” was the favorite method of argument with Jesus.
He spun no metaphysical cobwebs, he used no long chains of linked propositions; it is no irreverence to say that his quick wit was his main reliance. In a sentence or two, with a simple, homely figure, he reduced to an absurdity the conduct he censured and the proposition he opposed.
On one occasion he was asked, “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath day?” “What man shall there be among you,” he answered, “that shall have one sheep, and if it fall into a pit on the Sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it and bring it out? How much more, then, is a man better than a sheep? Wherefore it is lawful to do well on the Sabbath day.”
At another time the same subject came up. Because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath day, the ruler of the synagogue was filled with indignation and made a very grotesque spectacle of himself. He stormed, scolded, and roared to the people, “There are six days in which men ought to work; in them therefore come and be healed, and not on the Sabbath day.” Jesus answered: “Thou hypocrite, doth not each one of you on the Sabbath loose his ox or his ass from the stall and lead him away to watering? And ought not this woman, being a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan hath bound, lo, these eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?” The indignant ruler had to smother his wrath. “And when he (Jesus) had said these things, all his adversaries were ashamed.” The people enjoyed their confusion, and evidently applauded the sharp-witted young prophet who had silenced the fault-finding tongues of the rulers. “All the people rejoiced for the glorious things that were done by him!”
The Scribes and Pharisees were once murmuring and complaining that he mingled with publicans and sinners, and even condescended to eat with them. “And Jesus answering said unto them, They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance!”
When the Pharisees and Sadducees desired that he would show them a sign from heaven, he answered and said unto them, “When it is evening, ye say that it will be fair weather for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather to-day; for the sky is red and lowering. O, ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?” He uses essentially the same argument for a similar request: “When ye see a cloud rise out of the West, straightway ye say, There cometh a shower, and so it is. And when ye see the South wind blow, ye say, There will be heat, and it cometh to pass. Ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky and of the earth; but how is it that ye do not discern this time?” Says Geike, “With biting irony, he turned on them in a few brief, incisive sentences. * * * An evil and adulterous generation seeks after a sign of the approach of the Kingdom of God, while it is blind to the signs around that the Messiah must come, if the nation is not to perish.”
In a similar manner he shows how ridiculous are the doubts of those who fear that God will not answer prayer. “If a son ask bread of any of you that is a father, will ye give him a stone?” How this must have arrested the attention of his auditors; how they began to listen, curious to know what was coming next. “Or if he ask a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent?” Now they exchange glances as much as to say, “No, no; surely we would not do that!” But only for a moment. The expectant faces are again turned upon the Great Teacher. “Or if he shall ask an egg, will he offer him a scorpion?” “No, no!” and now they are eager for the conclusion: “If ye then being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?” It is the climax of absurdity for you to think that you are better than God, and will do more for your children than the Great Father will do for his children!
The disciples of Jesus came to tell him that the Pharisees are offended at some of his sayings. His only reply is, “Let them alone; they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch.”
When he charges the Pharisees with tithing mint, anise, and cummin, while neglecting judgment, mercy and faith, he stamps their conduct with an “analogy” that makes them ludicrous forever, “Ye blind guides which strain out a gnat and swallow a camel.”
At dinner, he was rebuked by his host for permitting a penitent woman to wash his feet with her tears and wipe them with the hairs of her head. “Simon,” calmly returned the guest, “I have somewhat to say to thee.” “Master, Say on.” Jesus then proceeds to impale him upon the following question: “There was a certain creditor which had two debtors; the one owed him five hundred pence, the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will love him most?” Simon understands whither the question tends, and slowly and reluctantly comes his answer: “I—suppose—that—he—to—whom—he—forgave most.” “Thou hast rightly judged.” Yes, Simon, but thou hast condemned thyself and justified the woman.
The story of the vineyard and its application are similar to Nathan’s parable. “There was a certain householder which planted a vineyard, and hedged it round about and digged a wine-press in it, and built a tower, and let it out to husbandmen, and went into a far country. And when the time of the fruit drew near, he sent his servants to the husbandmen, that they might receive the fruits of it. And the husbandmen took his servants, and beat one, and killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other servants, more than the first; and they did unto them likewise. But last of all, he sent unto them his Son; saying, They will reverence my Son. But when the husbandmen saw the Son, they said among themselves, This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and let us seize on the inheritance. And they caught him and cast him out of the vineyard, and slew him.”
This is the story. Jesus turns to the Pharisees: “When the Lord, therefore, of the vineyard cometh, what will he do unto these husbandmen?” Priests and Pharisees are moved with indignation. This is horrible; it almost exceeds belief. Those husbandmen were monsters of ingratitude and wickedness! The Pharisees answer: “He will miserably destroy those wicked men, and will let out his vineyard unto other husbandmen, which shall render him the fruits in their seasons.”
Fatal answer for you, O Scribes and Pharisees! “Therefore I say unto you, the Kingdom of God shall be taken from YOU, and given to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof.” There is a touch of humor in Matthew’s description of the manner in which the real object of this story dawned upon the minds of the hearers. “And when the Pharisees had heard his parable, they perceived that he spake of them.” Are we not irresistibly reminded of Falstaff, when the fairies in the forest turned out to be flesh and blood, “I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass?” Do we not feel about many of these condensed arguments of Jesus, as Milton did about the “sophist sweating and turmoiling under the inevitable and merciless dilemmas of Socrates,” that “he who reads, were it Saturn himself, would be robbed of more than a smile?”
Let us add by way of comparison, a passage from the Athenian Master. Here is a fragment of dialogue upon the enslaving power of money.
“Come, now, and let us reason with the unjust who is not intentionally in error. ‘Sweet sir,’ we will say to him, ‘what think you of things esteemed noble and ignoble? Is not the noble that which subjects the beast to the man, or rather to the god in man? and the ignoble that which subjects the man to the beast?’ He can hardly avoid saying Yes,—can he now?”
“Not if he has any regard for my opinion.”
“But if he admit this, we may ask him another question,—How would a man profit if he received gold and silver on condition that he was to enslave the noblest part of him to the worst? Who can imagine that a man who sold his son or daughter into slavery for money, especially if he sold them into the hands of fierce and evil men, would be the gainer, however large might be the sum which he received? And will any one say that he is not a miserable caitiff who sells his own divine being to that which is most atheistical and detestable, and has no pity?”
This selection will enable us to see that the method commonly used by Socrates was essentially the method that Jesus so frequently employed.
III.
When we pass on to other portions of the New Testament, we find examples of the same kind of reasoning in James and Paul.
Most admirably does James show the futility of faith without works. “What shall it profit, my brethren, though a man say he hath faith and hath not works? Can faith save him? If a brother and sister be naked and destitute of daily food, and one of you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body, what doth it profit? Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.”
The class of people referred to by James are aptly described by Fielding in the character of Peter Pounce. “Sir,” said Adams, “my definition of charity is a generous disposition to relieve the distressed.” “There is something in that definition,” answered Peter, “which I like well enough; it is, as you say, a disposition to do it, and does not so much consist in the act as in the disposition to do it. But, alas! Mr. Adams, who are meant by the distressed? Believe me, the distresses of mankind are mostly imaginary, and it would be rather folly than goodness to relieve them.” “Sure, sir,” replied Adams, “hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, and other distresses which attend the poor, can never be said to be imaginary evils.” “How can any man complain of hunger,” said Peter, “in a country where such excellent salads are to be gathered in almost every field? or of thirst, where every river and stream produce such delicious potations? And as for cold and nakedness, they are evils introduced by luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no more than a horse or any other animal; and there are whole nations who go without them.” Peter Pounce would have said to the “brother or sister naked and destitute of daily food,” “Depart in peace; be ye warmed and filled.”
The declaration of James that “faith without works is dead,” is illustrated in the sayings of others also:
“Sweet words, empty hands.”—Telugu.
“Kindness, but no milk.”—Urdu.
“Though they are brothers, their pockets are not sisters.”—Turk.
“It is not by saying Honey, Honey, that sweetness comes into the mouth.”—Ib.
“His words leap over forts, his feet do not cross the threshold.”—Telugu.
“If you do not ask me for food and raiment, I will care for you as my own child.”—Ib.
Equally admirable is that comparison of Paul in which he likens the Church to the human body and shows the folly of jealousy and schism: “If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling?”
Very pleasantly, but very effectually, does he remind those who professed to “speak with tongues” a sort of supernatural language, in the early Christian assemblies, that it was “better to speak five words with the understanding than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue.” An illustration serves his purpose. “Even things without life, giving sound, whether pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in sound, how shall it be known what is piped or harped? For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself for battle? So likewise ye, except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be known what is spoken? for ye shall speak into the air.”
Paul maintains the right of those who establish and teach churches, to be supported by those churches. It was a right upon which he did not always insist in his own case; but he fought for it as a great principle. “Mine answer to them that do examine me is this: Have we not the power (the right) to eat and drink?” The objector would admit this. Very well! “Who goeth a warfare any time at his own charges? Who planteth a vineyard and eateth not of the fruit thereof? or who feedeth a flock, and eateth not of the milk of the flock? * * * If we have sown unto you in spiritual things, is it a great thing if we shall reap of your carnal things? * * * Do ye not know that they which minister about holy things live of the things of the temple? They which wait at the altar are partakers with the altar? Even so hath the Lord ordained that they which preach the gospel should live of the gospel.” There is no gainsaying this argument. The “analogy” is unanswerable.
Already once or twice in this chapter, reference has been made to Socrates and his method. Much of the following passage would apply equally well to Jesus or James or Paul: “He generally begins with some question, apparently so simple, so stupidly simple, and at such a distance from the field of discussion, that his opponent often hesitates whether most to admire the docility or wonder at the stupidity of the querist, and with a complacent smile, half of pity, half of contempt, promptly replies. Other questions succeed faster and faster, more and more difficult, and gradually approaching, in one long spiral of interrogations, the central position in which the unhappy sophist’s argument stands. He now finds it impossible to escape, and confounded, perplexed and irritated, discovers that he is compelled to admit some palpable contradiction to his original assertions, and this too by means of those simple and innocent premises which he had so unsuspectingly granted. He feels himself within the coils of a great logical boa-constrictor who binds his folds together tighter and tighter till the poor sophist is absolutely strangled.”