This subject is one of intense interest, and suggests reflections of the most important kind, respecting the powers and properties of the thinking principle. In particular, it leads us to a period, which we are taught to anticipate even by the inductions of intellectual science, when, the bodily frame being dissolved, the thinking and reasoning essence shall exercise its peculiar faculties in a higher state of being. There are facts in the mental phenomena which give a high degree of probability to the conjecture, that the whole transactions of life, with the motives and moral history of each individual, may then be recalled by a process of the mind itself, and placed, as at a single glance, distinctly before him. Were we to realize such a mental condition, we should not fail to contemplate the impressions so recalled, with feelings very different from those by which we are apt to be misled amid the influence of present and external things.—The tumult of life is over;—pursuits, principles, and motives, which once bore an aspect of importance, are viewed with feelings more adapted to their true value.—The moral principle recovers that authority, which, amid the contests of passion, had been obscured or lost;—each act and each emotion is seen in its relations to the great dictates of truth, and each pursuit of life in its real bearing on the great concerns of a moral being;—and the whole assumes a character of new and wondrous import, when viewed in relation to that Incomprehensible One, who is then disclosed in all his attributes as a moral governor.—Time past is contracted into a point, and that the infancy of being;—time to come is seen expanding into eternal existence.
Such are the views which open on him who would inquire into the essence by which man is distinguished as a rational and moral being. Compared with it, what are all the phenomena of nature,—what is all the history of the world,—the rise and fall of empires,—or the fate of those who rule them. These derive their interest from local and transient relations,—but this is to exist for ever. That science, therefore, must be considered as the highest of all human pursuits, which contemplates man in his relation to eternal things. With its importance we must feel its difficulties; and, did we confine the investigation to the mere principles of natural science, we should feel these difficulties to be insurmountable. But, in this great inquiry, we have two sources of knowledge, to which nothing analogous is to be found in the history of physical science, and which will prove infallible guides, if we resign ourselves to their direction with sincere desire to discover the truth. These are,—the light of conscience,—and the light of divine revelation. In making this statement, I am aware that I tread on delicate ground,—and that some will consider an appeal to the sacred writings as a departure from the strict course of philosophical inquiry. This opinion, I am satisfied, is entirely at variance with truth,—and, in every moral investigation, if we take the inductions of sound philosophy, along with the dictates of conscience, and the light of revealed truth, we shall find them to constitute one uniform and harmonious whole, the various parts of which tend, in a remarkable manner, to establish and illustrate each other. If, indeed, in any investigation of moral science, we disregard the light which is furnished by the sacred writings, we resemble an astronomer who should rely entirely on his unaided sight, and reject those optical inventions which extend so remarkably the field of his vision, as to be to him the revelation of things not seen. Could we suppose a person thus entertaining doubts respecting the knowledge supplied by the telescope, yet proceeding in a candid manner to investigate its truth, he would perceive, in the telescopic observations themselves, principles developed which are calculated to remove his suspicions. For, in the limited knowledge which is furnished by vision alone, he finds difficulties which he cannot explain, apparent inconsistencies which he cannot reconcile, and insulated facts which he cannot refer to any known principle. But, in the more extended knowledge which the telescope yields, these difficulties disappear, facts are brought together which seemed unconnected or discordant, and the universe appears one beautiful system of order and consistency. It is the same in the experience of the moral inquirer, when he extends his views beyond the inductions of reason, and corrects his conclusions by the testimony of God. Discordant principles are brought together, doubts and difficulties disappear, and beauty, order, and harmony are seen to pervade the government of the Deity. In this manner there also arises a species of evidence for the doctrines of revelation, which is entirely independent of the external proofs of its divine origin; and which, to the candid mind, invests it with all the characters of authenticity and truth.
From these combined sources of knowledge, thus illustrating and confirming each other, we are enabled to attain, in moral inquiries, a degree of certainty adapted to their high importance. We do so when, with sincere desire to discover the truth, we resign ourselves to the guidance of the light which is within, aided as it is by that light from heaven which shines upon the path of the humble inquirer. Cultivated on these principles, the science is fitted to engage the most powerful mind; while it will impart strength to the most common understanding. It terminates in no barren speculations, but tends directly to promote peace on earth, and good-will among men. It is calculated both to enlarge the understanding, and to elevate and purify the feelings, and thus to cultivate the moral being for the life which is to come. It spreads forth to the view, becoming smoother and brighter the farther it is pursued; and the rays which illuminate the path converge in the throne of Him who is Eternal.
SECT. II.
OF FIRST TRUTHS IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE MORAL FEELINGS.
The knowledge which we receive through our intellectual powers is referable to two classes. These may be distinguished by the names of acquired knowledge, and intuitive or fundamental articles of belief. The former is procured by the active use of our mental powers, in collecting facts, tracing their relations, and observing the deductions which arise out of particular combinations of them. These constitute the operations which I have referred to in another work, under the heads of processes of investigation, and processes of reasoning. The full exercise of them requires a certain culture of the mental faculties, and consequently is confined to a comparatively small number of men. We perceive, however, that such culture is not essential to every individual,—for many are very deficient in it who yet are considered as persons of sound mind, and capable of discharging their duties in various situations of life in a creditable and useful manner.
But the knowledge which we derive from the other source is of immediate and essential importance to men of every degree; and, without it, no individual could engage, with confidence, in any of the common transactions of life, or make any provision for his protection or comfort, or even for the continuance of his existence. These are the principles also treated of, in a former work, under the name of First Truths. They are not, like our knowledge of the other kind, the result of any process either of investigation or of reasoning, and, for the possession of them, no man either depends upon his own observation, or has recourse to that of other men. They are a part of his mental constitution, arising, with a feeling of absolute certainty, in every sound mind; and, while they admit of no proof by processes of reasoning, sophistical objections brought against them can be combated only by an appeal to the consciousness of every man, and to the absolute conviction which forces itself upon the whole mass of mankind.
If the Creator has thus implanted in the mind of man principles to guide him in his intellectual and physical relations, independently of any acquired knowledge, we might naturally expect to find him endowed, in the same manner, with principles adapted to his more important relations as a moral being. We might naturally expect, that, in these high concerns, he would not be left to the knowledge which he might casually acquire, either through his own powers of investigation or reasoning, or through instruction received from other men. Impressions adapted to this important end we accordingly find developed in a remarkable manner,—and they are referable to that part of our constitution, which holds so important a place in the philosophy of the mind, by which we perceive differences in the moral aspect of actions, and approve or disapprove of them as right or wrong. The convictions derived from this source seem to occupy the same place in the moral system, that first truths, or intuitive articles of belief, do in the intellectual. Like them, also, they admit of no direct proofs by processes of reasoning; and, when sophistical arguments are brought against them, the only true answer consists in an appeal to the conscience of every uncontaminated mind;—by which we mean chiefly the consciousness of its own moral impressions, in a mind which has not been degraded in its moral perceptions by a course of personal depravity. This is a consideration of the utmost practical importance; and it will probably appear that many well-intended arguments, respecting the first principles of moral truth, have been inconclusive, in the same manner as were attempts to establish first truths by processes of reasoning,—because the line of argument adopted in regard to them was one of which they are not susceptible. The force of this analogy is in no degree weakened by the fact, that there is, in many cases, an apparent difference between that part of our mental constitution, on which is founded our conviction of first truths, and that principle from which is derived our impression of moral truth:—For the former continues the same in every mind which is neither obscured by idiocy nor distorted by insanity; but the moral feelings become vitiated by a process of the mind itself, by which it has gradually gone astray from rectitude. Hence the difference we find in the decisions of different men, respecting moral truth, arising from peculiarities in their own mental condition;—and hence that remarkable obscuration of mind, at which some men at length arrive, by which the judgment is entirely perverted respecting the first great principles of moral purity. When, therefore, we appeal to certain principles in the mental constitution, as the source of our first impressions of moral truth, our appeal is made chiefly to a mind which is neither obscured by depravity, nor bewildered by the refinements of a false philosophy:—it is made to a mind in which conscience still holds some degree of its rightful authority, and in which there is a sincere and honest desire to discover the truth. These two elements of character must go together in every correct inquiry in moral science; and, to a man in an opposite condition, we should no more appeal, in regard to the principles of moral truth, than we should take from the fatuous person or the maniac our test of those first principles of intellectual truth, which are allowed to be original elements of belief in every sound mind.