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Title: The Philosophy of Natural Theology
An Essay in confutation of the scepticism of the present day
Author: William Jackson
Release Date: November 8, 2014 [EBook #47314]
Language: English
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THE PHILOSOPHY
OF
NATURAL THEOLOGY.
AN ESSAY,
IN CONFUTATION OF THE SCEPTICISM
OF THE PRESENT DAY,
WHICH OBTAINED A PRIZE AT OXFORD, NOV. 26TH, 1872.
BY THE REVEREND
WILLIAM JACKSON, M.A., F.S.A.,
FORMERLY FELLOW OF WORCESTER COLLEGE,
AUTHOR OF "POSITIVISM," "RIGHT AND WRONG,"
"THE GOLDEN SPELL," ETC.
NEW YORK:
A. D. F. RANDOLPH & CO.,
BROADWAY.
MDCCCLXXV.
TO THE MOST NOBLE
THE MARQUIS OF SALISBURY,
CHANCELLOR
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD,
&c., &c., &c.,
THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE,
WITH HIS LORDSHIP'S PERMISSION,
RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
BY THEIR AUTHOR.
_From the "Oxford University Gazette" of June 14th, 1870._
PRIZE ESSAY.
Circumstances have induced an Individual, who wishes to remain
unknown, to offer a Prize of £100, to be competed for by Members of
the University of Oxford of not less standing than Master of Arts, and
by any above that standing, for the best Essay in confutation of the
Materialism of the present day by arguments derived from Evidences of
Intelligence, Design, Contrivance, and Adaptation of Means to Ends, in
the Universe, and especially in Man considered in his Moral Nature, his
Religious Aptitudes, and his Intellectual Powers; and in all Organic
Nature. The observation also to be made and supported in the course of
the Essay that the Will and Wisdom of the Creator may be a sufficient
cause for deviations from the established course of nature, and that
the Free-will of man, in things within his power and influence, may be
a cause of similar deviations.
It is desired that all arguments used against Materialism should be
independent of those of Hegel, and of what is called the Spiritual
Philosophy, which had its rise in Germany.
A period of two years will be allowed after the Public Announcement of
the subject before the competing Essays will be required to be sent
in to the Judges: and it is a condition of the competition that the
Copyright of the successful Essay shall be the property of the Donor
of the Prize; but that if published, the profits (if any) shall belong
to the Writer.
The Very Reverend the Dean of St. Paul's, the Regius Professor of
Divinity, and the Rev. C. Pritchard, Savilian Professor of Astronomy,
have consented to act as Judges.
Essays must be sent to the Registrar of the University on or before
the 12th of June, 1872. The Essays are to be distinguished by mottoes,
the writer's name being sent at the same time in a sealed envelope, in
the manner prescribed for the Chancellor's Prizes.
F. K. LEIGHTON,
Vice-Chancellor.
ALL SOULS COLLEGE,
_June 13, 1870_.
After the decease of Dean Mansel the last clause but one of the above
notice was thus modified in the _Gazette_ for Dec. 5th, 1871:--
The Very Reverend the Dean of Canterbury, the Regius Professor of
Divinity, and the Rev. C. Pritchard, Savilian Professor of Astronomy,
have consented to act as Judges.
The following announcement appeared in the _Gazette_ for Nov. 26th,
1872:--
PRIZE ESSAY.
The Judges appointed to award a Prize of £100 offered for the best
Essay in confutation of Materialism have adjudged the Prize to the
Rev. W. JACKSON, M.A., F.S.A., late Fellow of Worcester
College.
H. G. LIDDELL,
Vice-Chancellor.
_November 25, 1872._
In a letter dated Dec. 26th, 1872, the Donor of the Prize surrendered
any claim that he might have upon the Copyright of the Essay, and
requested the Author to proceed with its publication.
PREFACE.
The Essay now published is the expansion of a thin volume by the
present writer, which was printed more than four years ago.[1] Natural
Theology, considered as a science, had been at that time pronounced
extinct and impossible by very eminent authorities. From this decision
I felt myself constrained to differ; and thought it worth while to put
on record a plea for what appeared to me an unduly neglected branch of
Philosophy.
Such contempt of a pursuit possessing so many claims on the favourable
attention of educated minds, seemed a fact to be accounted for in some
way. After considerable thought, I ventured on asserting that the
method latterly employed in treatises on this once popular science,
furnished the true reason of its decline and fall. That method I could
not avoid condemning as both inadequate and suicidal.
The publication of my Sermon in 1870, was followed by a number of
letters and critiques from scientific and literary men. Not one amongst
them alleged any worse fault than novelty against the matter of my
book, and undue compression against its manner. Many of their remarks
were of the most encouraging description, and affected me deeply by
reason of the celebrity of their writers, whom I had previously known
only by their works and their reputation. One most generous letter
from the Author who, above all others, had called my own intellectual
life into active energy, excited, in my mind, a warmth of feeling
absolutely indescribable.
When, therefore, a Prize on this subject was offered for adjudication
subject to the appointment of my own University, I felt glad to embrace
an occasion which might be called in the truest sense an "Opportunity."
What I have produced is to be found in the following pages. When
engaged in writing them, it was my most anxious wish and endeavour to
be _honest_: to advocate what I thought and still think true, without
disguising the difficulties of my own conclusion, or assailing its
antagonists by gratuitous insinuations or unfairnesses of any sort.
Should such a meanness appear, I would earnestly desire the leaf on
which it is printed to be torn from my book.
The delays which have befallen these pages since they were first sent
to press in the former half of 1873, have caused much regret to both
author and publishers. Our troubles began with a singular misadventure
to a quantity of MS.; which, together with other circumstances, delayed
printing till after the time originally fixed for publication. The next
season was lost in consequence of severe domestic affliction. Those of
my readers who have ever gone into print, will most readily commiserate
the anxiety caused by such unlooked for disappointments.
* * * * *
The ensuing line of argument was suggested to my mind when a young
Oxonian, in consequence of circumstances with which it is needless
to trouble my readers. What I then thought its special strength,
lay in the point of its combining two totally different kinds of
proof:--one, drawn from a survey of the world we live in,--the other,
from what is nearer to ourselves--the moral truth given us by our
personal consciousness. I also thought that any particular weakness
alleged against one proof, could not be incident to the other; and,
therefore, that since both lines of evidence, (kept apart while under
examination), met at last in one and the same result, my inquiry had
arrived at a demonstrably certain conclusion. At the same time, I could
not but feel a wholesome distrust of my reasonings on a subject, which,
though often discussed, had never, as I then believed, been looked at
exactly from my own point of view.
Somewhat later in life, I learned from Paley's commentators and
continuators, that the attack and defence of Natural Theology had for
years been conformed to the position taken up by the Archdeacon, so
far at least as the popular science of this country was concerned. But
the sceptical tactics of Hume shewed me a much wider plan of assault;
and in studying his great German antagonist I saw that a double line
of defence had been contemplated by him. I have since observed that no
part of Kant's philosophy is less commonly known to English readers
than his method and results in those most priceless of his critical
investigations, the treatises forming a ground-work of Moral Science.
As may at once be supposed, the discovery that I really had a sort of
sympathiser in Kant, was the greatest possible encouragement to my mind.
Yet there remained a very heavy discouragement. Evidently, any one
who should try to pursue two very separate but convergent lines of
reasoning, must undergo a most toilsome task, and one little likely
to be performed without long and continued effort. And, harder yet to
answer was the question next following: Who will read your patiently
obtained results, to say nothing of the collateral topics which must
in logical fairness be argued by the way? After all, the inevitable
drawback to Natural Theology lies in the fact that, in order to be held
a valid science, it must necessarily become a complex one.
This last difficulty remains my chiefest apprehension still. Neither
in the Essay itself, nor yet in the additions made to it, have I
introduced any one point which it seemed permissible to omit with
justice to the real issue. Yet I dare not hope that many eyes, except
those of the practised student, will easily perceive how germane to
that issue are several among the subjects discussed. One class of
thinkers will, however, welcome the whole of these inquiries; and this
class contains the earnest men for whom above all others I have written.
The amount of MS. sent to the Registrar was much less in compass than
the present volume. But Notes and Illustrations were intended from
the first, and, had there existed a doubt as to their propriety, it
would have been at once removed by the counsel of competent advisers.
The risks attaching to the Essay in its smaller shape were said to
be two: (1) An evident appearance of unwilling brevity, and (2) a
possible charge of novel thought, bordering on paradox. In attempting
to overcome these obstacles to favourable attention, I have pursued the
following course:--
The text of the Essay is printed as originally written, with only a
very few verbal changes for the sake of improved clearness. A number of
foot-notes belonging to its first draft, remain distinguished by the
ordinary marks of reference.[2]
In reperusing the text, I set myself to consider how many sympathisers
I could find. The best answer to any possible charge of Paradox,
seemed to be a roll-call of thinkers who, for their own purposes, have
asserted positions more or less approaching those I had attempted
to maintain. The number of auxiliaries I have thus succeeded in
assembling, is, I confess, a matter of considerable self-gratulation.
Yet, I do not appeal to such opinions as _authorities_, in any other
sense than so far forth as they are the decisions of _experts_
in different provinces of knowledge. In whatever concerns his own
department, each scientific worker has assuredly a right to be heard.
The weight of confirmation thus given to my own previous results, is
enhanced by the fact that most of the authors cited, pursued different
objects from mine, and wrote without any bias favourable to Natural
Theology. Respecting more than one of them, I feel inclined to repeat
the ancient adage, "My antagonist has become my helper."
The Quotations themselves have been divided into separate classes.
The greatest number illustrate particular expressions, sentences, and
paragraphs. These are arranged as foot-notes on the several pages of
Text, and are referred to by the _small_ letters of the alphabet.
Others, explaining or confirming principles, of general importance to
the argument, have been distinguished by _capital_ letters, and placed
at the end of the chapters to which they appertain. With this latter
division are classed a third set of extracts, which aim at expounding
certain special thoughts, and opening out to the real student useful
paths of prolonged investigation.
One circumstance connected with the Additional Notes, is alluded to at
the bottom of page 27. Originally, I had made only a few citations from
thoroughly sceptical writers. But, against this plan were urged the
following objections. (1.) In arguing questions of all kinds, definite
points are present to the mind of every disputant, and against them he
directs his argument. His expressions are always antithetic to these
points, and should they be left in the shadow, all antithesis is lost,
and the real force of the argument obscured. Sometimes it is even
mistaken;--a truth which may be illustrated by comparing the positions
of great leaders in politics or theology with the positions occupied
by their disciples. The former always speak by way of antithesis,--the
latter seldom construe their leaders' words antithetically. Hence,
the disciples never fail to outrun their teachers. Antithesis is
in truth a verbal counterpoise; and where it disappears, balance is
not seldom overthrown. Thus, said my advisers, your reasoning must
necessarily suffer by a general loss of clear definition. Again, (2)
they continued;--Since the time when you began your Essay, Scepticism
in general, Materialism and Mechanism in particular, or, to speak
briefly, the various denials of Theism, have ceased to be subjects on
which reticence is feasible. An Address of Mr. Gladstone's delivered
in a room, and spoken to a company of youths, soon became world-wide;
it has been, and will be read, quoted, and commented on, wheresoever
the English language is understood. One daily newspaper attractively
written, devotes many of its clever pages to making known in a forensic
manner the many different phases of sceptical opinion. And some
religious journals explain, with complete freedom, what the disbeliefs
are which they consider most reprehensible. Reticence, therefore, is
simply thrown away. Some may desire to see it practised towards young
people, but such "economizers" are, in effect, theoretical. They forget
that the Battle of Thought comes to educated young minds along with the
Battle of Life; and woe to the unprepared either way! They become, one
and all, bewildered.
These reasons have satisfied my own judgment up to a certain point. I
have consequently added _such_ quotations from sceptical authors, as
seemed desirable for the purpose of _limiting_ my several positions
with antithetic distinctness; a kind of definition which I admit to
be the most distinct of all. And to these extracts I have appended
some others, plainly expressing the conclusions which the opponents
of Theism _ought_ to reach, provided their views are carried out with
fairness and consistency. Conclusions of this kind can only be obtained
from Sceptics themselves. In what are called "logical consequences"
put by an author into the mouth of his adversaries, I, for one, have
no confidence whatever. To draw such inferences and glory in their
wrong-headedness, is like inventing both sides of a controversial
dialogue, defeating the party destined to defeat, and then laying claim
to a philosophic victory. Or, we may take the reverse supposition. A
writer is too honest for such ill-gotten triumph. This same quality of
candour will, most probably, induce him to put the case he opposes in a
light so advantageous, as to throw fresh doubt upon his own.
If, then, I have erred in over-quoting upon these accounts, I cannot
plead that the error is committed unadvisedly.
It seems right to say, that, in mustering auxiliaries, I found the best
friends to my argument were the most truly philosophic Biologists.
It would indeed be strange and sad, should the genuine leaders of
thought in any among the Natural Sciences be reckoned real adversaries
of Natural Theology. But, in order to convey an exact impression to
the reader's mind, I must beg him to peruse, in connection with this
statement, the note on Materialism appended to Chapter III.; and,
more particularly, its concluding pages. Towards the hybrid class
mentioned p. 246, I cannot help entertaining a sentiment the reverse of
complimentary.
To several distinguished persons who have bestowed upon this
undertaking the aids of advice or sympathy, I offer a tribute of
respectful gratitude. In one particular they will, I hope, think their
kindness not utterly thrown away; since, unlike many recipients of
good counsel, I have followed the opinions given me. It is with a
deep solemnity of emotion, I thus venture on recording my heartfelt
indebtedness. One, who was glad that words of his had helped me, now
adorns no longer the noblest of assemblies by his eloquence. To my
personal sorrow, he will not cast a glance on the pages over which his
favour threw a ray of encouragement.
That same last change, O half-sceptical yet whole-earnest Reader,
awaits both thee and myself. To thee, I am no more than the unseen
utterer of certain thoughts, nourished through a period of blended hope
and anxiety. It is now thine, to take unto thyself such reasonings
as may fairly lay claim to some serious consideration. It is mine to
accept the mixed consequences of their utterance;--the kindness and
contempt which follow believing advocacy always. Through all, and above
all, there will remain with me--and perchance with thee also--the sense
of a new Responsibility.
These two shares in this slight book on the largest of subjects, belong
in a fashion to earnest reader and anxious author for the time present.
Soon they will be ours, and not ours. As days pass by, thought and
utterance will bring less to both of us. We shall both have tinctured
our lives more deeply with the Divine, or the Not-Divine; we shall both
have sealed the secret fountains of our hearts, in readiness for the
Grave and its inevitable Futurities.
* * * * *
[asterism] "Natural Theology attempts to demonstrate the existence of
a personal First Cause, supreme Reason, and Will. The relations of
mankind towards such a Being, are called natural religion.
* * * * *
We look upon the starry heavens and say, _as_ man creates within his
own soul, and gives to airy nothing a thought, a name, a purpose, and
a reality, _so_ Almighty God created the Divine poem of this universal
frame; His will is its substance, His majestic thought and purpose
shine out in its adornment, and we--we are hidden in the hollow of His
hand. Every marvel of the visible raises our sense of the infinite
variety and beauty of the invisible, until, attracted by Him Who is
the first mover of the outward and the inward alike, we make of this
wonderful orb we tread upon a solid ground of support from which to
mount, to fly to God and be at rest."
These paragraphs are taken from the Appendix to my little volume on
Natural Theology alluded to in the beginning of this Preface. They
were intended as comments on the words with which the Sermon itself
concluded:--
"I have only to add that time could not permit my carrying this
fruitful subject beyond its obscure and dry first principles. There
is a brighter district of thought, an upland territory, as it were,
rising towards our highest inheritance; a border country where Natural
Theology melts into Spiritual Religion, and where the true offspring
of God learn the lineaments of their Father's divine love. I turn with
regret from this land of living light."
Such, then, were the feelings with which I could not help regarding
the scientific limits of Natural Theology. I felt it nothing less than
a disappointment to traverse the paths of positive fact and argument,
and to close just at the very point where the human head gains a
response from the human heart. It seemed like the task of a landscape
painter, who, after depicting successive plains made shadowy by tangled
brushwood and dark forest-growth, should be compelled to lay down his
pencil, and forbear transferring to his canvas the beautiful downs and
sun-lighted hills overlooking those more obscure regions. Compared with
the painter's regrets, were mine, I asked, less natural? The attributes
of Deity already dwelt upon through the chain of my argument, were
not only fitted to bring His existence home to Reason, but also to
move earnest spirits by a strong sense of elevated hopes and duties,
devotion and aspiration. These religious sentiments might have yielded
the purest lights of my landscape. All that had gone before seemed more
negative than affirmative;--rather to have been sketched in neutral
tints than in radiant and glowing colours.
A similar feeling of deep concern attended the conclusion of the
present Essay; increased by an inevitable thought that the reiterated
disappointment seemed likely to be a disappointment always. It was,
therefore, a very great gratification to find in the honour of an
election to the Bampton Lectureship for 1875, the possibility of adding
a crown and completion to all my foregone work. The scheme of these
Lectures enables me to treat of Natural Religion; to penetrate the
upland territory, the border country where Man may view, as he walks
heavenwards, the lineaments of his Father's Divine love.
* * * * *
Before this time next year, I may, therefore, hope to have realized my
purpose. The volume of Bampton Lectures for 1875, may then have become
the appropriate conclusion of this present book.
OXFORD,
_Nov., 1874_.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Right and Wrong. A Sermon upon the Question Under what Conditions
is a Science of Natural Theology possible? Preached before the
University of Oxford, March 6, 1870.
[2] All citations made in the original draft, or in the foot-notes
belonging to it, have been revised and altered to suit later editions
of the authorities cited. Thus there are several extracts from
books which may appear to be recent publications, but are, in fact,
authorized _rifaccimenti_.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGES
I.--INTRODUCTORY: MOTIVES OF ESSAY--DIVISION
INTO CHAPTERS--METHOD OF STUDY--CONSILIENT
PROOFS 1-18
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 18-39
II.--PHILOSOPHY OF DESIGN: HOSTILE CRITICISMS
EXAMINED--EXPLANATIONS AND RESTATEMENTS 41-82
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 83-138
III.--CONDITIONS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE: ITS DISABILITIES
AND FIRST PRINCIPLES--IDEALISM--POSITIVISM--MATERIALISM--WE
MUST ACCEPT ULTIMATE TRUTHS 139-181
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 182-248
IV.--BELIEFS OF REASON: PRINCIPLE OF INDUCTION
--THEISM--CONFIRMATIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS 249-289
V.--PRODUCTION AND ITS LAW: CONDITIONS OF
ACTIVITY--WILL AND REASON IN CONTRAST
WITH MATERIALISM AND MECHANISM--CREATIVE
MIND CHARACTERISED BY VISIBLE PRODUCTS 291-348
ADDITIONAL NOTE 349
VI.--CAUSATION: LIMITS OF PHYSICAL LAW--THE
BEGINNING--CAUSE AND WILL--MIRACLES 351-373
VII.--RESPONSIBILITY: RIGHT AND WRONG--A
FUTURE STATE--SUPREME WILL AND PERSONALITY--
POSSIBLE RELATIONS OF THE
DIVINE BEING WITH MANKIND--EXPECTATION
OF SUPERNATURAL AIDS TO KNOWLEDGE
AND PRACTICE--THE BALANCE 375-396
L'ENVOY 396-398
LIST OF
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
The Right Honourable W. E. Gladstone and others on Modern
Scepticism 19
On Corruption of the Judgment by misdirected Moral
Sentiments 28
Special Pleading in History and Morals 29
The Method employed throughout this Essay 31
On the Effect of Consilient Proofs 37
The abstract reasonings involved in Natural Theology 83
On the phrase "Design implies a Designer" 98
Hume on the Analogies of Art and Nature 101
The Pantheistic consequences charged upon Physical
Speculations 103
The extent and divisions of the Science of Natural
Theology 104
On Teleology 107
Account of some theories respecting our Personal Identity 182
Helmholtz, Popular Lectures on Recent Progress of the
Theory of Vision 190
Helmholtz on Specialties of Sensibility 199
Popular account of Pure Idealism with critical remarks 204
On the Relations of Fact and Theory 215
On the "Unknowable" 217
Mr. J. S. Mill as an Independent Moralist 223
Archebiosis, or Spontaneous Generation 226
On Materialism 237
The Doctrine of Chances applied to the Structural
Development of the Eye 349
THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.
"Finis vitæ in primis noscendus est, ut ad eum actiones omnes dirigere
valeamus; non minus quàm naviganti portus ad quem deveniat ante omnia
statuendus."
_Ficinus in Platonis Philebum_, Cap. I.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
"Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;--
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower--but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is."
_Tennyson._
"I have written under the conviction that no Philosophy of the Universe
can satisfy the minds of thoughtful men which does not deal with such
questions as inevitably force themselves on our notice, respecting the
Author and the Object of the Universe; and also under the conviction
that every Philosophy of the Universe which has any consistency, must
suggest answers, at least conjectural, to such questions. No _Cosmos_
is complete from which the question of Deity is excluded; and all
Cosmology has a side turned towards Theology."--_Whewell, Philosophy of
Discovery_, Preface, p. vi.
"All science is but the intercalation, each more comprehensive than
that which it endeavours to explain, between the great Primal Cause
and the ultimate effect."--_Professor Allman's Address to the British
Association at Bradford_, 1873.
"Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom,
Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled splendour and gloom.
Speak to Him, thou, for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet,--
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet."
_Tennyson._
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER I.
This Introductory Chapter consists of three parts. The first lays down
the questions proposed, and shows the necessity of asking them. The
second illustrates what may be termed in Art-phrase the _motives_ of
the Essay. The third briefly describes its method, and explains the
readiest mode of studying Natural Theology.
_Analysis_--Inquiries underlying Natural Theology--Way in which they
are answered by our Instinctive Persuasions--How far this answer is
sufficing; how far influential.
Phases of Doubt; undeclared Scepticism and Indifferentism--Origin and
leaders of the modern Sceptical and Materialistic Schools--Doubts of
Intellect distinguished from Scepticism of Immorality--Social dangers
and alarms exemplified.
Method of this Essay, and requests as to the mode of reading
it--Divisions of Argument; their separate and consilient effect.
_Additional Notes and Illustrations._
A.--The Right Honourable W. E. Gladstone and others on Modern
Scepticism.
B.--On Corruption of the Judgment by misdirected Moral Sentiments.
C.--On Special Pleading in History and Morals.
D.--On the Method employed throughout this Essay.
E.--On the Effect of Consilient Proofs.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
No subjects of thought have ever been proposed more essential to the
culture and happiness of mankind than the two following inquiries.
Upon the first, human minds dwell unweariedly through every change of
circumstance from childhood to advanced age. It is this:--What reason
have we to look for a future life after that hour of dissolution which
inevitably awaits us all?
The second question unites itself closely, as by indissoluble links,
to the first. We always proceed to ask, Is there sufficient ground for
believing in the existence of a Supreme Moral Being, to whose righteous
care and kindness we can calmly commit ourselves when we come to die?
Suppose any man to maintain that the universe we inhabit,--and we who
are a portion of its occupants--came into existence by chance, he
renounces at once every right and title to expect a life succeeding
his bodily death. Chance--if the word means anything--means absolute
uncertainty; and from that which is in its own nature uncertain, what
continuing effects, what conclusive expectation, can be drawn?
Neither is the prospect improved by Materialists[a], in whose opinion
the being of man comprehends no element differing essentially, and in
kind, from the natural world he rules over. We see actually consequent
upon every death-bed the decay of our material frame; if, therefore,
that frame be not the casket of a brighter jewel, we can assuredly
affirm no hope higher or happier than corruption.
The feelings of most human beings revolt from a destiny so ignoble. And
many persons are satisfied that this revolt of feeling is in itself a
sufficient ground for some belief in Immortality. Why, they ask, should
so powerful an instinct dwell in the breast of our race with only a
misleading issue? The higher instincts of creatures below us do not
mislead them regarding that which is to come. Insects innumerable make
provision for the certain sustenance of a progeny they never can live
to behold. They also anticipate for themselves a futurity of life and
development. The caterpillar invests himself with the web he has spun,
and sinks into a chrysalid-sepulchre, to emerge from it in sun-lighted
beauty. Can any valid reason be assigned why the intuitive aspirations
of man should be more fallacious than such practical foresights of the
merely animal world below him?
So far as the writer of these pages is aware, no one has ever alleged
a reason why mankind should be thus deluded. And without going
further than our own country, it seems probable that this instinctive
persuasion is seldom wanting amongst the greater part of our people.
Although the moral consequences of such a persuasion, sometimes merely
passive, may be far less than good men could desire, yet they are
frequently strong enough to assist the weak and wavering when exposed
to sudden temptations. In the "short and simple annals of the poor,"
may be read countless instances of the fact. Neglected men and women,
the scorned outcasts of society, have been often held back by it from
greater criminality. They have found themselves unable to acquiesce
in the belief of _their_ world's opinion--the opinion of their evil
friends and companions--that death must be to all creatures the certain
end of all things.
If, on the other hand, absolute knowledge of a future state were the
natural gift of each person's understanding, there are thousands
amongst our educated classes to whom the trial and terror of their own
hearts would be incalculably mitigated. Numbers feel that speculative
doubts concerning the Being of a God, and life after death, are sources
of a continual perplexity and distress, under which they find little
or no sympathy. In every fresh affliction or anxiety, such a mind has
to sustain a double burden of sorrow, and concerning such it seems
emphatically true, that "the heart knoweth his own bitterness." There
may, however, be suggested one alleviation for every similar instance
of despondency. The same rule holds in this respect as in all human
pursuits,--labour is, and will always continue, the appointed path
by which we must attain. The more noble the object sought, the more
arduous the task and toil,--and what can be nobler than a well-grounded
belief in God and Immortality?
Another very large class of educated persons bear their doubts with
stoical composure, account them an inevitable burden, and consider it
lost time to ask questions concerning "the Unknowable." This class is
sustained in its attitude by the prevalence[b] of really sceptical
writings;--writings (that is) which deny the possibility of knowledge
beyond the circle of positive phenomena. Maxims to this effect are
not uncommonly disseminated through the periodical press, books of
fiction, and other kinds of light literature. The rapidity of modern
life leads men to take opinions upon trust, and keeps them back from
serious investigation. An ephemeral satirist becomes in their eyes
as valuable an authority as the most deeply-thinking reasoner. Much
work is saved by this valuation, to say nothing of the great gain
in self-complacency. And, no doubt, many persons feel particularly
complacent in taking their tone from minds which are evidently no
better informed, and no more finely strung than their own[c].
The class of sceptics just described, cannot be reckoned in figures.
They make up multitudes never enumerated apart in any religious
census. They live and die and make no sign,--and how can quiet
unavowed disbelief obtain a separate place in the columns of the
Registrar-General? Among the audible tones of respectable people it
finds no utterance, and therefore occupies no position. Every one
experienced in the world knows that this species of Indifferentism
is usually regular at public worship, and reticent where sceptical
phrases pass current. The only sure test is a moral one--of very slow
application, since it takes time for a decent sceptic to balance the
pleasures against the risks of immorality. Meantime, there remains some
possible hope for a happier choice during the period of indecision.
Far fewer, because far more strongly declared, are the literary
lodestars of that harbourless sea, where all beyond the horizon of
cloud and billow seems veiled and uncertain. Some amongst them may,
after all, be but wandering lights themselves[d], floating and drifting
like meteors which glimmer at nightfall across shadowy waters. Others
appear really fixed in a dim and joyless firmament where the Present
only is true, the remote Past a conjecture, and the Future altogether
inscrutable. According to them this bounded prospect is the true goal
and real aim of our transitory life,--within it the trials and griefs
of humanity assume their proper dimensions and pale their ineffectual
terrors, while peace, like a river of Eden, flows out over the once
martyred but now ransomed race of man. Even in our own imperfect
struggling day, the human creature may be happy who certainly knows
that this mixed existence is his All--that outside it he can live no
life except in the memory of his fellow-men--that there is no God,
no futurity of individual progress or perfection; but that one thing
happens equally to the good and the bad--the wise and the unwise.
This knowledge brings happiness, because it chases from the breast
self-centred hope and fear: the man who accepts this blank beholds
himself, as he really is, an atom of the Universal Whole--borne now by
the irresistible tide of force into sunlight--borne soon by the same
irresistible tide into a darkness of the shadow of death.
Compared with this creed, the martyrs of Monotheism were
self-loving--for did not they hope? Compared with this simple creed,
all who have stopped short on the threshold of frightful crimes, and
hesitated to stain their souls, were also self-loving--for did they not
fear?
A great variety of remonstrances have been addressed to writers of
this latter type[e]. Social consequences have been eloquently urged
against hypotheses which, if realised, would weaken, or perhaps
destroy, self-control, foresight, and self-improvement. In reply we
are told that these objects of pursuit still appear good and useful
to benevolent eyes. But it should be remembered that our age is one
of transition--half-developed as it were in Doubt. Our benevolent
men have not yet been fully disciplined in the coming school. Who,
therefore, shall safely predict for us the effects of its proposed
discipline? Add that, looking at the civilised world in general,
certain ideas (illusions, as they are sometimes called) respecting
a Futurity influenced by our present right and wrong-doing, are
ingrained in cultured man, and may perhaps be described as connate
with his nineteenth-century existence[f]. Is it possible, then, for
any one to say beforehand what may or may not be the consequence of
uprooting cherished principles fitted in their own nature to exercise
so practical an influence?
Remonstrances of this kind, however truthful and valuable in
themselves, would be out of place in the ensuing pages. A contribution
to the constructive science of Natural Theology must rest its
arguments upon the reason of the case, to the exclusion of many
interesting and persuasive considerations. All questions of Sociology,
have, however, a special fascination for numerous thinkers who are
unlikely to overlook negative conclusions lying close upon the confines
of their own science, and to them the treatment of such questions must
be remitted.
That these phases of thought have not, in fact, escaped the
consideration of benevolent observers, may be inferred from the special
circumstances under which this Essay is composed. Into every condition
(each being required by the exigencies of the subject) the present
writer enters with honest cordiality. His wish and aim is to place
before those who, while they doubt, still debate, certain reasonable
considerations which have appeared convincing to other speculative
minds. And he may defend himself from any possible charge of causeless
intermeddling with other men's concerns, in the words of one amongst
our most genuinely English poets:--
"'Twere well, says one sage, erudite, profound,
Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nose,
And overbuilt with most impending brows,
'Twere well could you permit the World to live
As the World pleases: what's the World to you?
Much. I was born of woman, and drew milk
As sweet as charity from human breasts.
I think, articulate, I laugh and weep,
And exercise all functions of a man.
How then should I and any man that lives
Be strangers to each other?"[3]
There are, however, doubters whom the writer can scarcely desire
to address--human beings in whose hearts to deny God kindles a
vivid delight, because belief in Him would compel the renunciation
of some darling wickedness. The true spring of their Materialism,
Pantheism,--or whatever else happens to be the adopted form of
Negation--lies within the will[g] itself. And, therefore, the wish
to be better must precede the wish to hear any one who reasons of
righteousness, temperance, or judgment to come.
To those who doubt, yet desire that Truth--whichever way Truth may
incline--shall distinctly prevail, the ensuing pages are dedicated.
And one main endeavour to be kept in view by both writer and reader
is, that, laying aside passion and prejudice, these questions may be
discussed under the _siccum lumen_--the purified ray--of Right Reason.
To argue for victory may be allowed an advocate who pleads subject to
the intervention of a judge. But here we have no arbiter to say what
is or is not allowable; here, too, the matter is in itself something
graver than corporeal life, or death, or all else beneath the sky;
here, finally, the case is personal, since each reasoner first settles
an account with his own heart; next, tries and decides a conclusive
issue, and by his own sentence, accepts more than any human foresight
can declare. Here, then, special pleading[4] is altogether out of place
on either side, and we must, if we aim at what is best, argue for
nothing more or less than the plain and simple truth.
There must, of course, be difficulties in keeping this straight and
honest road. Few men like making admissions apparently at variance with
their own conclusions; fewer still like to forego pleas which, though
in their own judgment unsound, are certainly specious, and to many
minds persuasive. Such, however, is the wish and aim of the present
essayist. And, that he may bind himself the more firmly to his own
resolution, he requests his readers to believe that any over-statement
or other error of which he may fairly be found guilty, is occasioned
by the unpleasantly common cause of ignorance,--a cause which Dr.
Johnson confessed was his reason for defining "_pastern_" as a "horse's
knee." "Ignorance, madam, pure ignorance," he replied, to the surprise
of his fair critic, who expected an elaborate defence. _Per contra_,
the essayist may equitably claim that he shall not be convicted by a
too summary and inconsiderate process. At the first blush, there will
certainly appear in the eyes of many readers numerous seeming mistakes,
which, if carefully scrutinized, may afterwards be held the reverse. At
all events, plain dealing and honest purpose demand that, when Truth is
the issue truly sought, those who approach it from opposite sides must
(if they desire to do right) sift their objections and difficulties as
well as their favourite arguments.
Reasoning on Natural Theology falls necessarily into two divisions. The
_first_ is made up of arguments drawn from the world without us. The
_second_, of arguments drawn from the world within[h]. Each path of
reasoning is subject to a cross division. We may argue affirmatively to
a definite conclusion. We may also argue negatively with the same end
in view;--we may show how much more difficult and less tenable is the
contradictory hypothesis.
It would be an awkward and almost impracticable task to keep these
kinds of reasoning far apart. The natural procedure of thought, is to
combine, rather than to dissever, when we marshal facts for the purpose
of a full and wide generalization. Yet it does seem practicable to mark
every transition of thought distinctly; and, if clearly marked, the
distinction may easily be kept in mind.
With this precaution, it may appear allowable to treat Natural Theology
in a more discursive manner than could otherwise be permitted. The
object of so doing will be to divest discussion as much as possible of
a dry, logical stiffness; and, by ranging round each topic[i] to look
at it in various lights; a process which generally discovers both the
weakness and the strength of reasoning. Any one who has read Plato will
understand the advantage of Dialogue in this respect. A more familiar
book, Coleridge's "Friend," is another apt illustration. Each of its
series of essays takes a sweep of the kind; and each "landing-place"
affords a rest to the reader, and a fresh beginning to the intellectual
tour. Without venturing to copy the quaint invention of landing-places,
the present writer intends making every Chapter the occasion of a
fresh _start_. The separate trains of thought will thus proceed from
distinct points, and travel by separate routes, so as to admit of full
inspection in their progress. Each argument allowed by the reader to be
valid, will finally link itself to its neighbours; and all thoughtful
persons know how to estimate the strength of convergent conclusions.
The writer trusts, also, that he may be allowed to escape the two
alternatives,--either circumlocution, or the use of an objectionable
pronoun _singular_, by employing the plural "_we_." This word may
perhaps have a further good effect; it may remind both reader and
writer that they are engaged as pilgrim-companions on a journey of
joint exploration.
At the head of all their reasonings, Natural Theologians usually
place the celebrated argument from Design. It would be impossible, in
discussing it, to reproduce here the many illustrative examples of
Design which have been collected. It would likewise be useless; partly,
because they are all easily accessible and mostly well known; partly,
because their appositeness as _illustrations_ is now fully admitted;
and the controversy turns upon questions of another and more abstract
kind. It is asked whether the analogy founded on these instances is
relevant?--whether it proves too little, or too much?--and, how far
the inferences drawn from such examples really go? Our plan will,
therefore, be to devote our second Chapter to the examination of
such objections; to the review and elucidation of the argument from
Design. But if the reader wishes really to study the various questions
closely connected with this celebrated line of thought, and to view
the reasoning in a shape so complete as to be at once relevant and
satisfactory, he may be pleased to bestow a leisure hour on the
consecutive perusal of Chapters II., V., and VI., with their appended
notes and illustrations.
The _third_ Chapter is intended as a critical propædeutic or foundation
for the constructive science of Natural Theology. So far as our
experience of men in great cities teaches anything with respect to the
speculative difficulties which keep them from God, it seems to teach
one undoubted fact. There is grounded in their minds a persuasion
(underlying all further objections), that, whatever else we can know,
little or nothing is to be learned concerning God. The idea of Theism
is thus isolated from every other idea; and there is a presumption
against all reasoning which in any way leads up to a determinate
thought of the Divine Being or the Divine attributes.
Some such doubters allege the necessary limitation of human knowledge
in general:--
"Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is man."
But, is not one chief object in knowing man, to acquaint ourselves with
God? In this spirit Quarles says:--
"Man is man's A B C; there's none that can
Read God aright, unless he first spell man."
We may be perfectly sure that every human being, who (as Pope
continues) hangs between the sceptic and the stoic,--
"In doubt to deem himself a god or beast,"
will never arrive at any knowledge of God whatsoever.
Others, again, who suppose mankind to know a great deal, conceive
all special thought which transcends the every-day human circle, to
be encompassed by a number of difficulties exceptionally its own.
If, it is said, there are angelic natures, they must needs pity our
poor attempts to survey _super_-human or _extra_-human spheres of
existence:--
"Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal man unfold all nature's law,
Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And show'd a Newton as we show an ape."[5]
Pope's cynicism has been lately re-echoed in various comparisons. A
death-watch has been supposed to speculate on the final end of a clock;
a timepiece on the nature of its makers. Writers who use similitudes
may be asked to remember that if Man really possesses reason (to say
nothing of an immortal spirit), he cannot be ranged in analogy with
apes, death-watches, and timepieces. The moment brute organisms, or
inorganic constructions, are represented as _reasoning_, they cease to
be what they are--a Thing suddenly becomes a Person. If this were all,
the speech and faculties of Man would be represented as intact, though
veiled beneath some shape worthy of the invention of a Babrias or an
Æsop. But this is not all. The monstrous shape is at once both Thing
and Person, and its thinkings in this double character are supposed to
show by their grotesque failures the absurdity of our human endeavour
to reason concerning God or Immortality.
To this whole kind of preoccupation the third Chapter is addressed.
There are really no special difficulties in the way of Theism. It
argues from the known to the unknown; so do all the inductive sciences.
It accepts more than it can explain; so do we, each and all, in
accepting the truth of our own individuality and personal identity,
of the world outside us, and the mind within, which scrutinizes that
changing world. The more thoroughly questions relating to our first
sources of knowledge are debated, the more surely shall we perceive how
safe is the starting-point of Natural Theology.
Against Materialism, on the other hand, there may be urged a series
of difficulties properly its own, and this may be most easily seen
by placing it in contrast with pure Idealism. The Materialistic
starting-point is from an unauthorized postulate--in common parlance,
an unfounded assumption; each step it takes is attended with a fresh
need of postulation, amounting at last to the gravest burden of
improbability. And when the materializing goal is reached we gain
nothing--no treasure is discovered--no vista opened into new realms
of intellectual or moral empire. We are only told that our supposed
insight was but a dream. We are only warned to dream no more.
Materialism has murdered insight.
With the argument of this Chapter there arises a very important
question, which the reader is entreated to put to himself more than
once, and bestow upon it from time to time a pause of serious thought.
In a negative form the question runs thus: Since the difficulties
supposed to bar the _first_ march of Natural Theology are in no wise
peculiar to it, but attach themselves equally to a multitude of our
daily grounds of thinking and acting, must we not, _if_, on account of
such difficulties, we deny Natural Theism, also deny those persuasions
of ordinary life? How else can we maintain our critical consistency?
Let no man henceforward be confident that there exists an outward world
of either men or things--let him not carelessly suppose that he has
even an individual mind to speak of as his own--let all that concerns
_other_ness--all that concerns _self_ness be relegated along with the
Divine Being to the region of the Unknown and the Unknowable.
But we may imagine that, instead of denying these truths of common
life, many men will be hardy enough to affirm them. If so, in accepting
these they clearly accept a great deal more. To be consistent they must
accept also the reasonable beliefs and first principles upon which
reposes Theism.
The question thus put is therefore a dilemma or choice between two
alternatives. And there may seem to remain no great doubt as to which
alternative most practical reasoners will accept. This kind of dilemma
will recur at many several steps of our inquiry, but having been
illustrated in one instance at considerable length, its examination
on other occasions may be safely left to the intelligence of the
thoughtful reader.
The _four_ following chapters argue for the truth of Theism on
four several and independent grounds. These arguments are purely
constructive; and each is so far apart from the other three as to stand
or fall upon its own merits. But, when each of these four arguments
has been separately examined, if admitted either wholly or in a
modified shape, their consilient and conjoint effect must be taken into
consideration[j].
To minimize impediments in the way of true knowledge; and to rise into
clearness;--_these_ should be the hopes and aims of us all. Life is
full of foiled endeavours; but let us onward now with the hopeful!
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER I.
A.--THE RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE AND OTHERS ON MODERN SCEPTICISM.
_Extract from Mr. Gladstone's Address delivered at the Liverpool
Collegiate Institution, December 21st, 1872._
"It is not now only the Christian Church, or only the Holy Scripture,
or only Christianity, which is attacked. The disposition is boldly
proclaimed to deal alike with root and branch, and to snap utterly the
ties which, under the still venerable name of Religion, unite man with
the unseen world, and lighten the struggles and the woes of life by the
hope of a better land.
"These things are done as the professed results and the newest
triumphs of Modern Thought and Modern Science; but I believe that
neither Science nor Thought is responsible, any more than Liberty is
responsible, for the misdeeds committed in their names. Upon the ground
of what is termed evolution, God is relieved of the labour of creation;
in the name of unchangeable laws, He is discharged from governing the
world; and His function of judgment is also dispensed with, as justice
and benevolence are held to forbid that men should hereafter be called
to strict account for actions, which under these unchangeable laws
they may have committed. But these are only the initial stages of the
process. Next we are introduced to the doctrine of the Absolute and
the Unconditioned; and under the authority of these phrases (to which,
and many other phrases, in their proper places, I have no objection)
we are instructed that we can know nothing about God, and therefore
can have no practical relations with Him. One writer--or, as it is now
termed, thinker--announces with pleasure that he has found the means
of reconciling Religion and Science. The mode is in principle most
equitable. He divides the field of thought between them. To Science he
awards all that of which we know, or may know, something; to Religion
he leaves a far wider domain,--that of which we know, and can know,
nothing. This sounds like jest, but it is melancholy earnest; and I
doubt whether any such noxious crop has been gathered in such rank
abundance from the press of England in any former year of our literary
history as in this present year of our redemption, eighteen hundred and
seventy-two." (pp. 22-3.)
The writer, or thinker, mentioned by Mr. Gladstone is thus described
at the end of the address, p. 33:--"My reference is to Mr. Herbert
Spencer. See his 'First Principles,' and especially the chapter on
the 'Reconciliation of Science and Religion.' It is needless to cite
particular passages. It would be difficult to mistake its meaning, for
it is written with great ability and clearness, as well as with every
indication of sincerity. Still it vividly recalls to mind an old story
of the man who, wishing to be rid of one who was in his house, said,
'Sir, there are two sides to my house, and we will divide them; you
shall take the outside.'
"I believe Mr. Spencer has been described in one of our daily journals
as the first thinker of the age."
To some people the Premier will appear more than reasonably disturbed
by the journal's description. There is (as we have remarked) a very
advanced type of the genus journalist in England, and its anonymous
zealots are liberal in distributing titles of honour--that is, among
their friends. _Per contra_, upon authors of Mr. Gladstone's calibre
and lofty mode of thought they bestow epithets very much the reverse of
complimentary. They seem, in fact, somewhat to resemble those critics
of whom Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote, that "though excellent fellows in
their way, there are no gentlemen in the world less sensible of any
sanctity in a book, or less likely to recognize an author's heart in
it." So far, however, as Mr. Herbert Spencer is concerned, the journal
censured might observe in justification of its approval that his system
seems a good deal read by the students of more than one school in our
Premier's own University--a proud distinction shared by Mr. Spencer
with several other eminent thinkers of the same speculative tendencies
as himself.
The eloquent speaker next passes under brief review two other typical
books,--one by a German, the second by an Englishman. Respecting the
opinions of the former author (Strauss[6]) Mr. Gladstone writes thus
(Authentic Report, p. 24):--"In his first chapter he puts the question,
'Are we still Christians?' and, after a detailed examination, he
concludes, always speaking on behalf of Modern Thought, that if we
wish our yea to be yea, and our nay nay, if we are to think and speak
our thoughts as honourable, upright men, we must reply that we are
Christians no longer. This question and answer, however, he observes,
are insufficient. The essential and fundamental inquiry is, whether we
are or are not still to have a Religion?
"To this inquiry he devotes his second chapter. In this second chapter
he finds that there is no personal God; there is no future state; the
dead live in the recollection of survivors--this is enough for them.
After this he has little difficulty in answering the question he has
put. All religious worship ought to be abolished. The very name of
'Divine Service' is an indignity to man. Therefore, in the sense in
which religion has been heretofore understood, his answer is that
we ought to have no religion any more. But proceeding, as he always
does, with commendable frankness, he admits that he ought to fill with
something the void which he has made. This he accordingly proceeds to
do. Instead of God, he offers to us the All, or Universum. This All, or
Universum, possesses, he tells us, neither consciousness nor reason.
But it presents to us order and law. He thinks it fitted, therefore,
to be the object of a new and true piety, which he claims for his
Universum, as the devout of the old style did for their God. If any one
repudiates this doctrine, to Dr. Strauss's reason the repudiation is
absurdity, and to his feelings blasphemy."[7]
Many readers will agree with the Premier in calling these "astonishing
assertions." Many will also speak of Strauss's positions as something
worse than astonishing when they read in the Illustrative Passages
(Address, p. 34) a declaration which he holds it his duty as well as
his right to make without any kind of reserve.[8]
Most persons will likewise agree with the Premier's further observation
(p. 38):--"I have made a statement that these ideas are not a mere
German brood, though I fear that we owe much of their seed to Germany,
as France owed to England the seed of her great Voltairian movement, so
far as it was a movement grounded in the region of thought."
In illustration of the statement that "there are many writers of
kindred sympathies in England, and some of as outspoken courage"
(Address, p. 26), Mr. Gladstone quotes four passages from Mr. Winwood
Reade's "Martyrdom of Man." The three first cited possess a painful
interest for the Natural Theologian. They are as follows:--(1.) "When
the faith in a personal God is extinguished; when prayer and praise are
no longer to be heard; when the belief is universal that with the body
dies the soul; then the false morals of theology will no longer lead
the human mind astray." (2.) "We teach that the soul is immortal; we
teach that there is a future life; we teach that there is a Heaven in
the ages far away: but not for us single corpuscles, not for us dots of
animated jelly, but for the One of whom we are the elements, and who,
though we perish, never dies." (3.) "God is so great that He does not
deign to have personal relations with us human atoms that are called
men. Those who desire to worship their Creator must worship Him through
mankind. Such, it is plain, is the scheme of Nature." (pp. 38-9.)
On account of his Address and _pièces justificatives_, Mr. Gladstone
has been already (like a prophet of old) "wounded in the house of his
friends." It may therefore be well to support his judgment by some
additional testimony. Now the _Pall Mall Gazette_, whatever faults may
be imputed to it by its adversaries, cannot be justly charged with
harshness or discourtesy towards materializing writers. And it so
happens that both Dr. Strauss and Mr. Reade have lately been criticised
in its columns. From these notices, therefore, I shall venture on
making some extracts.
Strauss's "Der Alte und der Neue Glaube" was reviewed at considerable
length in the number for November 27, 1872. I quote two passages only.
After an interesting introduction the reviewer proceeds thus:--
"As the title of the book indicates, the work to be effected divides
itself into two main parts. First, it is necessary to settle the
relations to be adopted towards the old Church faith, or Christianity.
That accomplished, the outlines at least of the new views that take
its place must be sketched out. Of course, before that can be done
it must be settled whether or not there is anything to put in place
of Christianity. It is logically correct to ask, first, whether
'we'--meaning 'the thinking minority,' who have grown dissatisfied with
'the old faith'--'are still Christians' in any sense. Having answered
that question in the negative, it is in order to ask next 'whether we
have any religion,'--which cannot be answered by a simple negative
or affirmative, or without further explanations as to the nature of
religion. We must see 'how we regard the world,' or the system of
existing things; what results we are led to by modern researches as
to its origin, purpose, and destiny. Although in the light that flows
from these, Strauss maintains that the old idea of a personal God must
disappear, he finds a Divinity in the All or totality of nature, whose
forces and course exhibit purpose or design--subjectively speaking--and
order, and to which we are bound, recognizing the wisdom that regulates
them, piously to resign ourselves, seeking to fulfil that order of
which we ourselves are a part." The following extract concludes the
notice:--"We have seen that Strauss refuses to acknowledge Christianity
because on examination its assertions appear to him incredible, and its
claims therefore inadmissible. That is the result of an examination
of the nature of Christianity, in which we have nothing new, as it is
substantially a synopsis of the fuller process of reasoning contained
in 'The Life of Jesus.' But it is not Christianity alone that must be
dispensed with. In accordance with the old declaration that miracles
are impossible, the supernatural also disappears. It is not merely
relegated, as by Herbert Spencer and Comte, to the sphere of the
Unknowable; it is not recognized in any manner whatsoever. In place of
creation, we have in these pages a process of continuous development
through immense periods of time; instead of God, as the source of law
and authority and order, nature proceeding harmoniously in an unending
process; instead of individual immortality, the conclusion that every
individual fulfils his destiny in this world. The divinities and the
after life of man are, as with Feuerbach, declared to be simply his
own desires. 'What man might be but is not, he makes his god; what he
might possess but cannot win for himself, that shall his god bestow
upon him.' In reference to the argument that man must somewhere
realize all the possibilities that are in him, and as he does not do
so in this life there must be a future one, Strauss asks whether all
seeds in nature come to maturity. Having dispensed, then, with the
supernatural, are we necessarily without any religion? We have seen
that Strauss answers in the negative, though not very confidently.
The fundamental views on human life, the existence of the world, and
so forth, are without doubt a religion, or the theoretical side of
one. If in order to a religion it be necessary to believe that the
universe fulfils a rational purpose through a rational order, we
have that presented to us. There is constant process and continuous
development. There is an ascent, as it were, of the forces of nature
which perform their mighty cycles through the ages, and a consequent
descent and vanishing away. The All remains ever the same, is at no
moment more complete than in the preceding, nor _vice versâ_, but there
is a process of becoming and disappearing which goes on, or may go on
_ad infinitum_. The design or purpose of every part is being fulfilled
at every moment, for at every moment there is the richest possible
unfolding of life in the total system of things. The highest idea to
which we can attain is that of the universe.
"Many people were scandalized when a few years ago Mr. Mill maintained
that the idea of a God was not indispensable to a religion. Comte's
'Religion of Humanity' was then in view. Strauss's religion, though
equally without a God, is deformed by no such crudities of thought
and feeling as Comte's. Rather is his book a representation in brief
compass of the views to which, whether we regret it or not, the
majority of educated and thinking men are in our day more and more
attracted."
One remarkable circumstance dwelt upon in this notice, as well as
in Mr. Gladstone's Address, is that Strauss, like Comte, finds a
substitute for the worship of a Deity--a something which both are
pleased to call a Religion. Strauss takes the theoretical, Comte the
sentimental view. According to the Frenchman, men are to worship
"Humanity" with a leaning to the female side. The un-deformed
religion of the German centres upon an Optimistic theory of the All
or Universum.[9] Both would seem practically to confess the real
necessity of some Religion to mankind, and the question naturally
occurs whether these _succedanea_ are more wholesome and elevating than
Theism, or whether (it may be added) they are as likely to be true
after all.
Mr. Winwood Reade's "Martyrdom of Man" had been criticised four days
earlier (_Pall Mall Gazette_, Nov. 23). As he is an English writer, I
take the liberty of making more copious extracts, but would recommend
such of my readers as have not perused the article to bestow half an
hour's steady thought upon it.
"Mr. Reade," writes the critic, "puts forth his book as a sort of
review, or survey, or abridgement of the general history of the human
race, and he has given to it the strange title it bears because he is
of opinion that 'the supreme and mysterious Power by whom the universe
has been created, and by whom it has been appointed to run its course
under fixed and invariable law; that awful One to whom it is profanity
to pray, of whom it is idle and irreverent to argue and debate, of
whom we should never presume to think save with humility and awe; that
Unknown God has ordained that mankind should be elevated by misfortune,
and that happiness should grow out of misery and pain.' But, although
the work is in the main historical, it is also partly cosmological,
partly physiological, and partly polemical. It deals with the past, the
present, and the future of the world as well as of humanity....
"In what he has to say on the present occasion Mr. Reade lays no
claim to originality. On the contrary, he warns us that he has
borrowed, 'not only facts and ideas, but phrases and even paragraphs
from other writers.' The purpose he has in view is to illustrate the
investigations and enforce the conclusions within a moderate compass
of higher and more voluminous authorities. But still there is quite
enough of his own handiwork in the volume to entitle him to be regarded
as far more than a mere compiler; and we venture to think that many
readers will find those portions of it which are the fruits of Mr.
Reade's personal experience as an African explorer, and his reflections
upon that which he has himself seen, among the most interesting and
instructive of all.
"In the writings of Mr. Darwin, Mr. Mill, Dr. Draper, and Mr. Herbert
Spencer, the authors to whom Mr. Reade seems to be chiefly indebted,
the assumed antagonism between the conclusions of modern science and
the premisses of popular theology is latent rather than manifest. With
them it is left as a matter of inference, and is nowhere forced upon
the attention as a matter of fact. Mr. Reade endeavours to supply
this deficiency, and he does so distinctly and abruptly enough....
In order to build we must destroy. Not only the Syrian superstition
must be attacked, but the belief in a 'personal God,' which engenders
a slavish and oriental condition of the mind, and the belief in a
posthumous reward which engenders a selfish and solitary condition
of the heart.... What Mr. Reade is pleased to designate 'the Syrian
superstition' is still the direct or indirect source of all the really
practical sympathy existing both between the higher and lower classes
of society and the higher and lower races of mankind. As to the belief
in a personal God, the passage we have quoted above from Mr. Reade
seems to show that he shares it, or the language he uses is mere
nonsense. It would be absurd to talk about anything except a personal
God creating the universe, appointing fixed and invariable laws, and
ordaining the destiny of mankind. And if Mr. Reade is referring merely
to force collectively or in the abstract, we cannot perceive why it
'should be idle and irreverent to argue and debate about' it, or why
'we should never presume to think, save with humility and awe' about
it, more than about its particular and concrete manifestations; for
instance, light, heat, or electricity. Moreover, if we admit that the
universe is in any sense the work of a supreme and mysterious Power who
has in any sense predestined an unalterable course for it to run, we
cannot understand how such a belief is fitted to remove the 'slavish
and oriental condition of mind' of which Mr. Reade complains. We should
have thought rather that the unmitigated fatalism it implies would be
far likelier to generate such an intellectual state than reliance on
providential superintendence and interposition carried to no matter
what extravagant lengths. Mr. Reade's proposition that the belief in
a posthumous reward engenders a selfish and solitary condition of the
heart appears to us likewise wide of the mark. As long as we continue
to be individual beings, our conduct will continue to be the result of
our individual feelings, present or anticipated. Practically, at all
events, the Stoic, the Sadducee, and the Christian equally will fulfil
instead of neglecting their duty--first, because they are conscious
that it is their duty, and secondly, because they know that fulfilling
it will bring them satisfaction, and that to neglect it will bring them
remorse. The only difference is that the Christian trusts that his
satisfaction in the one case, and fears that his remorse in the other
case, will be infinitely prolonged."
Mr. Reade's reviewer concludes his critique with a piece of wit from
Voltaire, which he views as enunciating a pretty fair summary of the
moral contained in the "Martyrdom of Man." Voltaire compares the
Creator of the world to the builder of a great house, and men to the
mice who inhabit its chinks and crannies. The Divine builder has not
enlightened us mice. This comparison has often since been repeated in
new and improved shapes by sceptical moderns, who treat a considerate
Death-watch as a typical thinker on problems of reason, such as Design
and Final Causation.
As author of a Lecture on Positivism in 1871, I cannot but be gratified
to perceive that Mr. Gladstone's views of Comte's character and system
are coincident with my own. (Authentic Report, pp. 25 and 36.)
This note began with extracts furnished by one Premier--it may not
inaptly close with quotations from the writings of another.
Mr. Disraeli, in his preface to the new edition of "Lothair," expresses
himself as follows (p. xv., seq.):--
"It cannot be denied that the aspect of the world and this country, to
those who have faith in the spiritual nature of man, is at this time
dark and distressful. They listen to doubts, and even denials, of an
active Providence; what is styled Materialism is in the ascendant.
To those who believe that an atheistical society, though it may be
polished and amiable, involves the seeds of anarchy, the prospect is
full of gloom.
"This disturbance in the mind of nations has been occasioned by two
causes: firstly, by the powerful assault on the divinity of the Semitic
literature by the Germans; and, secondly, by recent discoveries of
science, which are hastily supposed to be inconsistent with our
long-received convictions as to the relations between the Creator and
the created."
On the first cause of disturbance, Mr. Disraeli continues:--"Man brings
to the study of the oracles more learning and more criticism than of
yore: and it is well that it should be so. The documents will yet bear
a greater amount both of erudition and examination than they have
received; but the word of God is eternal, and will survive the spheres."
On the second, he observes:--"Scientific, like spiritual truth, has
ever from the beginning been descending from Heaven to man. He is a
being who organically demands direct relations with his Creator, and
he would not have been so organised if his requirements could not be
satisfied. We may analyse the sun and penetrate the stars, but man is
conscious that he is made in God's own image, and in his perplexity he
will ever appeal to 'our Father which art in Heaven.'"
Both these sources of doubt and denial have been exemplified in the
preceding note. I might indeed have hesitated to exemplify them so
fully were it not for the considerations mentioned in my preface to
this essay.
B.--ON CORRUPTION OF THE JUDGMENT BY MISDIRECTED MORAL SENTIMENTS.
Talfourd--then Mr. Serjeant Talfourd--thus describes what passed in his
own mind when viewing the site of Gibbon's abode at Lausanne:--"That
garden in which the Historian took his evening walk, after writing the
last lines of the work to which many years had been devoted;--a walk
which alone would have hallowed the spot, if, alas! there had not been
those intimations in the work itself of a purpose which, tending to
desecrate the world, must deprive all associations attendant on its
accomplishment of a claim to be dwelt on as holy! How melancholy is
it to feel that intellectual congratulation which attends the serene
triumph of a life of studious toil chilled by the consciousness that
the labour, the research, the Asiatic splendour of illustration,
have been devoted, in part at least, to obtain a wicked end--not in
the headlong wantonness of youth, or the wild sportiveness of animal
spirits, but urged by the deliberate, hearted purpose of crushing
the light of human hope--all that is worth living for, and all that
is worth dying for--and substituting for them nothing but a rayless
scepticism. That evening walk is an awful thing to meditate on; the
walk of a man of rare capacities, tending to his own physical decline,
among the serenities of loveliest nature, enjoying the thought that,
in the chief work of his life, just accomplished, he had embodied a
hatred to the doctrines which teach men to love one another, to forgive
injuries, and to hope for a diviner life beyond the grave; and exulting
in the conviction that this work would survive to teach its deadly
lesson to young ingenuous students, when he should be dust. One may
derive consolation from reflecting that the style is too meretricious,
and the attempt too elaborate and too subtle, to achieve the proposed
evil; and in hoping that there were some passages in the secret history
of the author's heart, which may extenuate its melancholy error; but
our personal veneration for successful toil is destroyed in the sense
of the strange malignity which blended with its impulses, and we feel
no desire to linger over the spot where so painful a contradiction is
presented as a charm."--_Vacation Rambles._ Ed. 2, p. 238.
We may gladly give Gibbon the benefit of the doubt with which the great
judge closes. But surely most attempts to address the mental state
depicted must needs be found impotent. There is great force in a dictum
of Schelling's ("Idealismus der Wissenschaftslehre") to the following
effect--"The medium by which spirits understand each other is not the
ambient air, but the deep-stirred sympathetic vibrations propagated
by a community of spiritual freedom. When a soul is not pervaded by
this atmosphere of conscious freedom, all inward communion with self
or with another is broken,--what wonder, then, if such a one remain
unintelligible to himself and to others, and in his fearful wilderness
of spirit wearies himself by idle words, to which no friendly echo
responds, either from his own or from another's breast?
"To remain unintelligible to such an one is glory and honour before
God and man. _Barbarus huic ego sim, nec tali intelligar ulli._ This,"
concludes Schelling, "is a wish and prayer from which no man can keep
himself."--_Sämmtliche Werke_, I. 443.
C.--ON SPECIAL PLEADING IN HISTORY AND MORALS.
A few emphatic sentences from Lord Macaulay's strictures on
historical special pleading will repay perusal:--"This species of
misrepresentation abounds in the most valuable works of modern
historians. Herodotus tells his story like a slovenly witness,
who, heated by partialities and prejudices, unacquainted with the
established rules of evidence, and uninstructed as to the obligations
of his oath, confounds what he imagines with what he has seen and
heard, and brings out facts, reports, conjectures, and fancies in
one mass. Hume is an accomplished advocate. Without positively
asserting much more than he can prove, he gives prominence to all the
circumstances which support his case; he glides lightly over those
which are unfavourable to it; his own witnesses are applauded and
encouraged; the statements which seem to throw discredit on them are
controverted; the contradictions into which they fall are explained
away; a clear and connected abstract of their evidence is given.
Everything that is offered on the other side is scrutinised with the
utmost severity; every suspicious circumstance is a ground for comment
and invective; what cannot be denied is extenuated, or passed by
without notice; concessions even are sometimes made; but this insidious
candour only increases the effect of the vast mass of sophistry.
"We have mentioned Hume as the ablest and most popular writer of his
class; but the charge which we have brought against him is one to which
all our most distinguished historians are in some degree obnoxious.
Gibbon, in particular, deserves very severe censure."--_Macaulay's
Miscellaneous Writings--History._
The reader may very advantageously carry along with him the above
quoted just remarks, if he has occasion to travel into Hume's sceptical
writings. Respecting these, where every feature of the author's
character appears with intensified distinctness of expression, it is
not too much to say that their influence, which had suffered suspended
animation,[10] is now felt in almost every cultivated circle in Europe.
Checked for a time under the empire of Kant and his successors, it has
been revived by the German Darwinists (so-called), who are bent on
evolving all that can be got from the theory of Evolution. Comte speaks
of Hume as his own master--an intellectual debt all the more readily
acknowledged, because Hume's treatment of most subjects leans towards
the French, rather than the Teutonic, side of English speculation. The
master's influence over numbers who, without being Comte's disciples,
are addicted to thinking Positively upon questions connected with Mind
and Morality, was never greater than at present.
Here, therefore, the disciplined inquirer will obtain a prolific field
of discovery, if he wishes to convince himself how little originality
pervades the set of opinions just now in fashion.
But the student of Hume ought surely to be a disciplined inquirer.
Many senior residents at our Universities will, therefore, join me in
regretting that his sceptical treatises should be so commonly found in
the hands of very young men. So far as such readers are concerned, it
does not much signify whether Hume's fallacies are due to onesidedness
of intellect or (as has been said by a critic, once himself a doubter)
whether he was influenced "by vanity, appetite, and the ambition of
forming a sect of _arguescents_." An opinion scarcely libellous,
considering what Hume has said respecting the validity of his own
paradoxes. However this may appear, the fallacies remain fallacies,
and are less easy of detection than they would have been were their
author a systematic thinker, instead of a philosophical _dilletante_.
Under any circumstances, it is not every aspirant to the "Round Table"
for whom the quest after secret spells is fitted. The youthful knight
has his own ward to keep, and needs help--not hindrance, much less
betrayal--inasmuch as:--
"Tis his to struggle with that perilous age
Which claims for manhood's vice the privilege
Of boyhood;--when young Dionysus seems
All glorious as he burst upon the east,
A jocund and a welcome conqueror;
And Aphrodite, sweet as from the sea
She rose and floated in her pearly shell,
A laughing girl;--when lawless will erects
Honour's gay temple on the mount of God,
And meek obedience bears the coward's brand;
While Satan, in celestial panoply,
With Sin, his lady, smiling by his side,
Defies all heaven to arms!"
_Hartley Coleridge's Poems_, Vol. II., p. 202.
D.--ON THE METHOD EMPLOYED IN THIS ESSAY.
The advantages which ensue from this mode of "ranging round each
topic" are well described by the late Sir B. Brodie (Psychological
Inquiries, 1st series, p. 18). "Our minds are so constructed that we
can keep the attention fixed on a particular object until we have,
as it were, looked all around it; and the mind that possesses this
faculty in the greatest degree of perfection will take cognisance of
relations of which another mind has no perception. It is this, much
more than any difference in the abstract power of reasoning, which
constitutes the vast difference which exists between the minds of
different individuals; which distinguishes the far-sighted statesman
from the shallow politician; the sagacious and accomplished general
from the mere disciplinarian. Such also is the history, not only of the
poetic genius, but also of the genius of discovery in science. 'I keep
the subject,' said Sir Isaac Newton, 'constantly before me, and wait
until the first dawnings open by little and little into a full light.'
It was thus that, after long meditation, he was led to the invention
of fluxions, and to the anticipation of the modern discovery of the
combustibility of the diamond. It was thus that Harvey discovered the
circulation of the blood; and that those views were suggested to Davy,
which are propounded in the Bakerian lecture of 1806, and which laid
the foundation of that grand series of experimental researches which
terminated in the decomposition of the earths and alkalies."
Dr. Tyndall also considers the case of Newton ("Fragments of Science,"
p. 60). "Newton pondered all these things. He had a great power of
pondering. He could look into the darkest subject until it became
entirely luminous. How this light arises we cannot explain; but, as
a matter of fact, it does arise." Dr. Tyndall had before remarked
on the question thus suggested, that "There is much in this process
of pondering and its results which it is impossible to analyse. It
is by a kind of inspiration that we rise from the wise and sedulous
contemplation of facts to the principles on which they depend. The
mind is, as it were, a photographic plate, which is gradually cleansed
by the effort to think rightly, and which when so cleansed, and not
before, receives impressions from the light of truth. This passage from
facts to principles is called induction, which in its highest form is
inspiration; but, to make it sure, the inward sight must be shown to be
in accordance with outward fact. To prove or disprove the induction, we
must resort to deduction and experiment."--Ibid, p. 57-8.
This last remark concerns the process of verification which the
accomplished writer discusses through several subsequent pages.
Notwithstanding a passing observation of Dr. Tyndall's that "this
power of pondering facts is one with which the ancients could be but
imperfectly acquainted," some readers will be struck by the thought
that it forms the nearest approach which can be made by any inductive
discoverer to the old philosophical method of Dialectic. Janet says, in
a volume to which those who have not encountered it will thank me for
introducing them, "La dialectique logique dans Platon est parfaitement
conforme aux lois de la raison. Elle ne sert qu'à réfuter les idées
fausses, ou à éclaircir les idées données antérieurement par une
sorte de synthèse, qui, suivant les uns, n'est que le progrès de la
généralisation, et, selon nous, est le progrès de l'intuition." (Études
sur la Dialectique dans Platon et dans Hegel, p. 393.) For a more
complete appreciation of what is here stated in few words, the student
should peruse pp. 244, seq. The account given by Janet appears in some
measure to coincide with Dr. Tyndall's idea, though perhaps the word
"Intuition" might be more entirely approved by Schelling or Coleridge
than by any Physicist.
Be this as it may, Dr. Tyndall's outline of the Inductive process in
its highest form is evidently one which describes the prerogative of
Genius--the exercise of Imagination as distinguished from Fancy--the
child, that is, of Reason, rather than a stray bantling of sportive wit.
To bring his general conception within the grasp of every-day workers,
and describe a procedure which may be adopted as a kind of practical
rule or maxim, let us look at this subject in the following manner.
Suppose we take the example of a great idea; that, for instance, of
the constitution of Great Britain, or any other nation which subsists
in tolerable freedom from revolutionary change. There are clearly two
elements involved--one, Permanence; the other, Progress. These, in the
actual working constitution, form its factors, or moments (as they may
be better termed); and in the idea or mental representation of the
same, we may liken them to complementary colours in the spectrum, which
appear separately contrasted in tint, but blend together in a wave of
white light. Now, our analysing faculty of mind is, in point of fact,
our intellectual prism. It separates each bright and strong idea into
elements so antagonistic as to be apparently incompatible. Like clear
yellow and shadowy violet, one component seems excellent in beauty,
another its foil or opposite. To one class of minds truth consists
in Permanence, and Progress is a note of evil omen. Of another class
the contradictory is true. The real statesman alone knows that their
blending is a question of measure and degree, of human affairs,--time,
circumstance, and opportunity.
We may ask with reason what gain accrues to the statesman by looking
at his country's constitution from this point of sight? Evidently a
good deal. He will soon discern that practically it cannot exist in
vigour if either factor be eliminated. Each is given in the analysis
of his prolific idea, and, however great may seem the apparent
incompatibility, both must be capable of co-existence and correlation.
Now, there could be no synthesis if, on the one hand, Progress did not
imply a something which remains identical and in unity with itself,
while it flourishes and grows;--or, on the other hand, if Permanence
were not safest, when its strength is manifested by its vital increase.
Consequently, to grow is to continue essentially the same;--to be
permanent is to live and bear fresh fruit every passing year.
A precisely similar advantage accrues to the Ethical Philosopher from a
process of the like description. He considers (it may be) the concrete
idea of moral activity. Obviously, there must be found in it an
unfettered power of choice, and a conformity to the rule of moral law.
Submitted to the analytic prism, the two elements come out at opposite
poles in very decided contrast. At the pole of necessary conformity
we find what looks like Determinism;--at the pole of choice appears
its irreconcilable antagonist, a sense of Responsibility, logically
unexplained, but inalienable from our moral nature. And our Ethical
inquirer finds the only possible synthesis of his two contrasted
moments of morality in the deep truth that each righteous man is a Law
unto himself. And hence it is, that the righteous shines out over the
lower world of mechanical arrangement--a faint, it may be, but still a
visible image of the God who made him what he is.[11]
By the same process of analysis and reconstruction the Natural
Theologian arrives (as may be shown) at a synthesis of Faith and
Reason. Yet these two are antagonistic in the eyes both of the sceptic
and the superstitious. _Les extrêmes se touchent_, and by both extremes
faith is relegated to the region of sentimental æsthetics.
Reason, say both, is Faith's natural enemy; and must fail to yield
any expectation of future happiness in the presence of a righteous
God, together with its long train of present hopes and fears. Our
plain answer is that the true synthesis of Natural Theism lies in
the chief primary fact of our human nature--the undeniable existence
of its Reasonable Beliefs. They originate deep down, and we may
affirm respecting the birth of each and all, as Dr. Tyndall affirms
of the inward vision which dawns upon the philosophic mind when
photographically cleansed by its own efforts to think rightly,--"how
this light arises we cannot explain, but as a matter of fact it does
arise." In its degree it may be (to use Dr. Tyndall's word) "a kind
of inspiration." And what endowment has a higher claim to such a
representative kinship?--what nobler gift can be conceived from God
to man than a Belief of Reason? Dr. Tyndall's further requirement
that "the inward sight must be shown to be in accordance with the
outward fact," a Natural Theologian may hope to meet by a sufficient
verification. He may meet it in the case of this particular Belief by
showing, as we shall try to show, our actual human experience of its
working and its worth.
We might pursue similar examples through the regions of Discovery
and Production, but the three instances already adduced may fairly
suffice. It is, perhaps, more interesting to observe the real gains
which accrue from pondering over an idea in the manner exemplified.
How much political _charlatanerie_ is at once disposed of when men
distinctly acknowledge that two reputed incompatibilities, however
useful as war-cries, are essentially conjoint elements in all truly
statesmanlike action: what countless angry controversies die in the
moral principle that each righteous man is a Law unto himself! And not
only to Natural Theology, but to other parts of knowledge, it is of the
greatest utility to perceive with equal distinctness that Reason has
its beliefs as well as Unreason; and that when we accept reasonable
beliefs as the basis of scientific investigation, we affirm their value
for the conduct and government of life. The true amount of that value
as a mainspring of our hopeful activities is estimated on another page.
Meantime, we may remark from the three examples above discussed, how
regularly an idea of Reason, analysed into its complementary factors,
resumes a concrete form when we employ it as a maxim of practical
life. The politician who separates progress from stability is really
preparing his country for revolution. The man on whose heart the law
is not written (like the necessity laid upon St. Paul[12]) is as yet
imperfectly righteous. And so too, if in our Beliefs we lose sight of
the gift that makes us human, we are likely to ring the changes between
superstition, atheism, and effeminate sentimentality.
When, from results, we pass to the easiest method for attaining them,
there seems but little to add to the extracts with which this note
commenced. And if the object be clearly defined, the labour of the
mental workshop need not be a severe discouragement. It is true that no
man can take his Thought--the offspring of his inward Light--pull it to
pieces, and reconstruct it, as he would deal with a thing of brass or
iron. But every earnest ponderer may keep his prolific idea steadily in
view, and hold conversations with himself respecting it. This is the
well-known method by which Aristotle virtually obtains his conclusions
before he finally proceeds to deduce them. From the same conception of
Method, real thinking appears to Plato as a Dialogue without speech.
And, doubtless, actual discussion between two or more living men would
be the surest way of arriving at the goal of insight, provided those
most uncommon of all endowments, common sense and common honesty, could
be assured to the dialecticians.[13]
Thus much, then, may serve as an illustration of the task we are
attempting, and of the means by which we hope to accomplish it.
If achieved, it will form a contribution to the great work thus
characterised by the Rector of Lincoln College from the University
pulpit, as reported in the _Oxford Undergraduates' Journal_ for October
26, 1871: "The Natural Theology of the last century is no longer
found to be satisfactory in presence of the geological and biological
sciences as they now stand. The answer that the sciences are wrong
and the theologians are right does not admit of being discussed or
refuted, for it is the answer of ignorance. The answer of the Catholic
Church, which is to take refuge in its own authority, can only be
practically tendered where there is an infallible living authority, as
in the chair of S. Peter. It seems to be the business of the English
Church especially--a Church which has never yet broken with reason or
proscribed education--to fairly face these questions, to resume the
Natural Theology of the past age, and to re-establish the synthesis of
Science and Faith."
E.--ON THE EFFECT OF CONSILIENT PROOFS.
The expressive word "_Consilience_" has been adopted on the authority
of Dr. Whewell and Professor Pritchard, both of whom employ it in
preference to the commoner expression _convergence_. Upon the force of
consilient proofs, Dr. Whewell writes thus:--
"The cases in which inductions from classes of facts altogether
different have _jumped together_, belong only to the best established
theories which the history of science contains. And as I shall have
occasion to refer to this peculiar feature in their evidence, I will
take the liberty of describing it by a particular phrase, and will term
it the _Consilience of Inductions_.
"It is exemplified principally in some of the greatest discoveries.
Thus it was found by Newton that the doctrine of the attraction of the
sun varying according to the inverse square of the distance, which
explained Kepler's _Third Law_ of the proportionality of the cubes of
the distances to the squares of the periodic times of the planets,
explained also his _First_ and _Second Laws_ of the elliptical motion
of each planet; although no connexion of these laws had been visible
before. Again, it appeared that the force of universal gravitation,
which had been inferred from the _perturbations_ of the moon and
planets by the sun and by each other, also accounted for the fact,
apparently altogether dissimilar and remote, of the _precession of the
equinoxes_. Here was a most striking and surprising coincidence, which
gave to the theory a stamp of truth beyond the power of ingenuity to
counterfeit....
... The theory of universal gravitation, and of the undulatory
theory of light, are indeed full of examples of this consilience of
inductions. With regard to the latter, it has been justly asserted by
Herschel, that the history of the undulatory theory was a succession
of _felicities_. And it is precisely the unexpected coincidences of
results drawn from distant parts of the subject which are properly thus
described." ("Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences," B. XI., chap. v.,
s. 3.)
And again, "It is true, the explanation of one set of facts may be
of the same nature as the explanation of the other class; but then,
that the cause explains _both_ classes, gives it a very different
claim upon our attention and assent from that which it would have
if it explained one class only. The very circumstance that the two
explanations coincide, is a most weighty presumption in their favour.
It is the testimony of two witnesses in behalf of the hypothesis; and
in proportion as these two witnesses are separate and independent,
the conviction produced by their agreement is more and more complete.
When the explanation of two kinds of phenomena, distinct, and not
apparently connected, leads us to the same cause, such a coincidence
does give a reality to the cause, which it has not while it merely
accounts for those appearances which suggested the supposition. This
coincidence of propositions inferred from separate classes of facts, is
exactly what we noticed in the last book, as one of the most decisive
characteristics of a true theory, under the name of _Consilience of
Inductions_.
"That Newton's first rule of philosophizing, so understood, authorizes
the inferences which he himself made, is really the ground on which
they are so firmly believed by philosophers. Thus, when the doctrine
of a gravity varying inversely as the square of the distance from
the body, accounted at the same time for the relations of times and
distances in the planetary orbits and for the amount of the moon's
deflection from the tangent of her orbit, such a doctrine became most
convincing: or, again, when the doctrine of the universal gravitation
of all parts of matter, which explained so admirably the inequalities
of the moon's motions, also gave a satisfactory account of a phenomenon
utterly different--the precession of the equinoxes. And of the same
kind is the evidence in favour of the undulatory theory of light, when
the assumption of the length of an undulation, to which we are led by
the colours of thin plates, is found to be identical with that length
which explains the phenomena of diffraction; or when the hypothesis of
transverse vibrations, suggested by the facts of polarization, explains
also the laws of double refraction. When such a convergence of two
trains of induction points to the same spot, we can no longer suspect
that we are wrong. Such an accumulation of proof really persuades us
that we have to do with a _vera causa_. And if this kind of proof be
multiplied,--if we again find other facts of a sort uncontemplated in
framing our hypothesis, but yet clearly accounted for when we have
adopted the supposition,--we are still further confirmed in our belief,
and by such accumulation of proof we may be so far satisfied as to
believe without conceiving it possible to doubt. In this case, when the
validity of the opinion adopted by us has been repeatedly confirmed by
its sufficiency in unforeseen cases, so that all doubt is removed and
forgotten, the theoretical cause takes its place among the realities of
the world, and becomes _a true cause_." (Ibid. B. XII., chap. xiii.,
art. 10.)
The reader of this Essay will be pleased to remark as he proceeds that
its argument is made up of a diversity of proofs (very many among them
being inductive), and that they all lend each other mutual support and
become consilient at last.
FOOTNOTES:
[a] The language of this paragraph is the language of ordinary
life. In Coleridge's "Table Talk," for example, the subject of
Man's distinguishing prerogative of Immortality is discussed by the
great speaker, and his nephew's note of the discussion is headed
"Materialism." There appears, indeed, considerable difficulty in
finding a precise expression for the form of belief, or unbelief,
commonly called Materialism. Most people speak of it as of some clear
and well-defined theory until they begin seriously to investigate
its _rationale_. Investigators are then apt to become loud in their
complaints of its inexactness. Take by way of instance the following
example. Speaking of "the doctrines of Materialism," Lord Brougham
remarks: "The vague and indistinct form of the propositions in which
they are conveyed affords one strong argument against their truth.
It is not easy to annex a definite meaning to the proposition that
mind is inseparably connected with a particular arrangement of the
particles of matter; it is more difficult to say what they mean who
call it a modification of matter; but to consider it as consisting in
a combination of matter, as coming into existence the instant that
the particles of matter assume a given arrangement, appears to be a
wholly unintelligible collocation of words."--(_Discourse of Natural
Theology_, p. 102).
Under such circumstances it may seem difficult for many a Materialist
to describe himself as the adherent of a distinct or closely reasoned
system. The main point we would submit for his earnest consideration
is the question whether his hypothesis lands him in certain subtle
refinements concerning the nature and connection of Force, Mind, and
those generalized facts which have been called the primary properties
of Matter,--or whether it leads him onward to the opinions described in
the text. Looking at the subject in this light, we might feel inclined
to draw a broad distinction between mere scientific Materialism and the
Materialistic doctrines of sceptical philosophy.
[b] "I doubt," said Mr. Gladstone at Liverpool on December 21,
1872,--"I doubt whether any such noxious crop has been gathered in such
rank abundance from the press of England in any former year of our
literary history as in this present year of our redemption, eighteen
hundred and seventy-two." The Premier had before remarked: "I believe
that neither Science nor Thought is responsible, any more than Liberty
is responsible, for the misdeeds committed in their names."
The passage from which these brief extracts are made is given at
greater length in the additional note to this Section (A).
[c] Since writing the above, my attention has been called to Paley's
censure of the "disingenuous _form_" under which Scepticism was placed
before the public in his day. He says (_Moral Philosophy_, B. v. Sect.
9): "Infidelity is served up in every shape that is likely to allure,
surprise, or beguile the imagination; in a fable, a tale, a novel, a
poem; in interspersed and broken hints, remote and oblique surmises;
in books of travels, of philosophy, of natural history; in a word, in
any form rather than the right one,--that of a professed and regular
disquisition. And because the coarse buffoonery and broad laugh of the
old and rude adversaries of the Christian faith would offend the taste,
perhaps, rather than the virtue of this cultivated age, a graver irony,
a more skilful and delicate banter, is substituted in their place."
[d] "Atheists," says the _Pall Mall Gazette_ of January 18, 1873,
"write Atheism because they are Atheists, but Alexandre Dumas writes
Atheism, though a good Catholic, who goes to church every Sunday."
[e] Pre-eminent amongst these remonstrants is Mr. Gladstone. In the
speech before cited, he says, p. 25: "It is to be hoped that they
will cause a shock and a reaction, and will compel many, who may
have too lightly valued the inheritance so dearly bought for them,
and may have entered upon dangerous paths, to consider, while there
is yet time, whither those paths will lead them. In no part of his
writings, perhaps, has Strauss been so effective, as where he assails
the inconsistency of those who adopt his premises, but decline to
follow him to their conclusions. Suffice it to say, these opinions are
by no means a merely German brood; there are many writers of kindred
sympathies in England, and some of as outspoken courage." (Compare the
extracts from this class of writers given along with the Premier's
remarks in Note A.)
[f] Die Zustände eines Volkes hängen hauptsächlich von seiner Denkweise
ab: diese ist der wichtigste und einflussreichste Zustand. Alle andern
können nur nach und in ihr begriffen werden. Sie ist es, die den
Menschen zu einem solchen macht; und in ihrer Ausbildung entwickelt
sich erst die Menschlichkeit.--(Wilhelm H. J. Bleek, "Ueber den
Ursprung der Sprache," p. 12).
[3] Cowper, "The Task," B. III.--It must be confessed that the
honest-minded humanitarian may often find in the reception
he encounters ample reason and motive enough for taking up
Teufelsdroeckh's parable:--"'In vain thou deniest it,' says the
Professor; 'thou _art_ my Brother. Thy very hatred, thy very envy,
those foolish lies thou tellest of me in thy splenetic humour: what
is all this but an inverted sympathy? Were I a steam-engine, wouldst
thou take the trouble to tell lies of me? Not thou! I should grind all
unheeded, whether badly or well,'"--(_Sartor Resartus_, B. III. c. 7).
And when the bigotry of Unbelief is not content with persecuting the
honest-minded humanitarian--when he hears some shallow, half-animalized
specimen of humanity shouting for a red-handed communism and the blood
of the innocent--_then_ he may not irrationally exclaim with the same
philosopher:--"Wert thou, my little Brotherkin, suddenly covered up
within the largest imaginable glass-bell,--what a thing it were, not
for thyself only, but for the world!"
[g] I am indebted to Mr. Gladstone's appendix (p. 40) for the following
apposite quotations from Sir George Cornewall Lewis's very scarce
work, "On the Influence of Authority in Matters of Opinion." Speaking
of "Authority, and its place not as an antagonist of Reason, but as
an instrument of Reason for the attainment of Truth," Sir George
remarks, in page 35 of his book: "'It is commonly said that the
belief is independent of the will,' and that no man can change it 'by
merely wishing it to be otherwise.' But 'the operation of a personal
interest may cause a man insensibly to adopt prejudices or partial and
unexamined opinions.' In page 38 he adds: 'Napoleon affords a striking
instance of the corruption of the judgment in consequence of the
misdirection of the moral sentiments.'"
All friends, and many casual readers, of S. T. Coleridge will
remember that he asserted the same, or perhaps a stronger, conclusion
upon metaphysical grounds, and with a force of language not easily
surpassed. This--one of Coleridge's bursts of gorgeous eloquence and
imagery--will be found in "The Friend," a book which, according to C.
Lamb, contains "his best talk." The subject commences on page 260 of
Vol. III., Ed. 2, and page 211, seq., Vol. III., Ed. 4. In the latter
place it is amplified by a summary of his arguments, pages 213, 214.
The position propounded, that true insight cannot exist apart from
moral rectitude, receives considerable light from the doctrine of
philosophical postulates maintained in the "Biographia Literaria,"
Vol. I. c. 12, and chiefly borrowed from Schelling, to whom there
is an honest reference in the first Edition, I. 250. I mention this
circumstance because Coleridge has been held guilty of unjustifiable
pillage by writers who have noted his borrowing, but omitted to observe
such acknowledgments as he makes, together with the additions and
alterations which he introduces.
The corruption of a naturally acute understanding has seldom been more
graphically painted than by Judge Talfourd. (See Additional Note,
B.)
[4] Compare Lord Macaulay on "Special Pleading in History," Additional
Note, C.
[h] These divisions have been sometimes called Physico-Theology and
Ethico-Theology; but the latter designation is far too restricted for
the line of thought pursued in the latter portion of this Essay.
[i] See Additional Note, D.
[5] Pope, "Essay on Man," Ep. II. Compare Mr. Pattison's notes, pp.
87, 88, and 90. We may remark that the Aphorism "Know thyself" has
been often employed to convey a lesson the most distant possible from
Pope's,--_e.g._, "Know thyself; and so shalt thou know God, as far as
is permitted to a creature, and in God all things."
[j] See Additional Note, E.
[6] The work referred to, "Der alte und der neue Glaube," appeared in
the latter half of 1872.
[7] Compare an illustrative passage, B. III. p. 34. "We have been
seeking to determine, whether our point of view, from which the
law-governed All, full of life and intelligence, is the summit of
thought (die höchste Idee), can still be called a religious point
of view, and we have animadverted upon Schopenhauer, who loses no
opportunity of flying in the face of this which is our Idea. As I have
said, such outbreaks impress our understanding as absurdities; to our
feelings, they are blasphemies. It appears to us rash and reckless,
on the part of a mere human individual, so boldly to set himself up
against the All, out of which he grows, and from which he has the
morsel of intelligence that he misuses. We see in this an abnegation
of that feeling of dependence, which we admit to belong to all men. We
demand the same piety towards our Universum, as the devout man of the
old fashion did for his God."
[8] This declaration we quote in its native German. Its first sentence,
together with the sentences immediately preceding, are those passages
selected for translation by Mr. Gladstone.
"Historisch genommen, d. h. die ungeheuren Wirkungen dieses Glaubens
mit seiner völligen Grundlosigkeit zusammengehalten, lässt sich die
Geschichte von der Auferstehung Jesu nur als ein weit historischer
Humbug bezeichnen. Es mag demüthigend sein für den menschlichen Stolz,
aber es ist so; Jesus könnte all das Wahre und Gute, auch all das
Einseitige und Schroffe das ja doch auf die Massen immer den stärksten
Eindruck macht, gelehrt und im Leben bethätigt haben; gleichwohl würden
seine Lehren wie einzelne Blätter im Winde verweht und zerstreut
worden sein, wären diese Blätter nicht von dem Wahnglauben an seine
Auferstehung als von einem derben handfesten Einbände zusammengefasst
und dadurch erhalten worden." (p. 72.)
[9] As a consequence of the difference in standpoint, the use made by
the two men of their several conclusions is marked by very considerable
contrast. Comte's Humanity was to be served by a ritual as well as a
social set of ordinances. Strauss looks quite another way. Considering
the outrage which would be committed upon philosophy and feeling should
his Universum find irreverent treatment in the words and writings
of men; our emotion, he says, on such occasions becomes thoroughly
religious. If then it be asked in express terms whether he and his
fellow-thinkers really have a Religion or no, they cannot answer
roundly as they will when questioned on Christianity; they must rather
say yes or no according to the meaning of the word Religion in the mind
of their questioner. (See Strauss, p. 143.)
[10] In the Livraison of the Deux Mondes for November, 1856, M.
Cucheval-Clarigny wrote thus: "Personne plus que David Hume n'a éprouvé
l'inconstance des jugemens humains. Après avoir été mis au rang des
esprits qui ont fait le plus d'honneur à l'humanité, on le compte
volontiers aujourd'hui parmi les corrupteurs de la raison et les
apôtres du mal." That another kind of interest has been more recently
felt in Hume is evidenced by the republication of his works in America
and England. While writing this note I learn that a new edition of the
seldom-read Treatise on Human Nature will shortly appear, with notes by
two well-known members of Balliol College.
[11] Compare with this the subjoined orison for a special gift of
moral rectitude penned by Professor Huxley (Lay Sermons, p. 373). "I
protest that if some great power would agree to make me always think
what is true and do what is right, on condition of being turned into
a sort of clock and wound up every morning before I got out of bed, I
should instantly close with the offer. The only freedom I care about
is the freedom to do right; the freedom to do wrong I am ready to part
with on the cheapest terms to any one who will take it of me." It
seems wonderful that the talented writer fails to perceive that should
his terms be granted the bargain would be dear indeed--it must take
place at the expense of his Personality. He would have no choice left,
consequently no rightness of choice. With the loss of his volition his
manhood would be forfeited; and the Huxley of our praise and blame must
needs sink at once and for ever from a Person to a Thing--
"Rolled round in Earth's diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees."
After all, we may trust that this outpouring of soul after mechanical
goodness, is neither more nor less than a fresh rehearsal of the
popular fallacy or fable of a learned and intelligent, but somewhat
over-hasty, death-watch. The difference between the two myths is not
great, and both owe their existence to the prolific fancy of Professor
Huxley. About three years ago the teleological beetle speculated in
a manner which would have grieved the soul of Aldrich or Whately
respecting the purpose of a kitchen clock. The death-watch concluded,
like a death-watch, and not like a logician, that the clock's final end
was to tick. Man, as Bacon tells us, is the servant and interpreter
of nature. Does any one feel sure that a death-watch is the servant
and interpreter of kitchen timepieces? Yet his inconsequent thinking
served as an implement of Fate to "quail, crush, conclude, and quell"
Teleology in general, and the Design argument for Natural Theism in
particular. _Now_, a human Huxley clock always going morally right
_because it must_, is equally conclusive against all freedom and all
Conscience. Equally conclusive, we know, because equally true to Nature
and to Fact. As conclusive as arguments against received biological
tenets drawn from those great natural curiosities the Gorgon, the
dragon of St. George, and the fire-breathing Chimæra, who united in her
own fair person a lion, a dragon, and a goat. This latter well-known
phenomenon may seem nearly as striking as any right-minded clock
imaginable, and not much more incongruous.
Many readers may be reminded of Amurath's Ring. But few probably will
know, and fewer still recollect, Miss Edgeworth's clever comment upon
it in "Rosamond." The book is unfortunately scarce, not having been
reprinted along with "Early Lessons," therefore we add the extract
("Rosamond," vol. i., p. 148):--
"Do you remember, brother," said Laura, "your wish when you were
reading that story in the 'Adventurer,' last week?"
"Not I. What wish?" said Godfrey. "What story?"
"Don't you remember," said Laura, "when you were reading the story of
Amurath and his ring, which always pressed his finger when he was going
to do anything wrong?"
"Yes; I wished to have such a ring," said Godfrey.
"Well, a friend is as good as such a ring," said Rosamond; "for a
friend is, as somebody observed, a _second conscience_; I may call
Laura my _second conscience_."
"Mighty fine! but I don't like secondary conscience; a first conscience
is, in my opinion, a better thing," said Godfrey.
"You may have that too," said Rosamond.
"Too! but I'd rather have it alone," said Godfrey. "There is something
so cowardly in not daring to stand alone."
The lesson seems to be that second-hand goodness falls short of
true goodness, and that the impulse to moral action must arise from
within--so unmanly is every endeavour at shaking off, either by
cowardice or by unreflectiveness, the human burden and birthright of
Responsibility.
Amurath's ring was a mechanical conscience. Professor Huxley's clock
is a mechanism in the outward form of a man. These two imaginations
convey the useful lessons that neither Conscience nor Mankind are mere
machines. A clock goes because it must go its hourly round; a man
chooses which way, when, and whither he will go.
[12] 1 Corinthians ix. 16.
[13] For a useful account of Plato's Dialogue in connection with
Plato's philosophy, see "Introduction to the Republic," by Davies and
Vaughan, pp. xxi.-xxiv. Cambridge, 1852.
CHAPTER II.
PHILOSOPHY OF DESIGN.
"It is an assured truth, and a conclusion of experience, that a little
or superficial knowledge of Philosophy may incline the mind of Man to
Atheism, but a farther proceeding therein doth bring the mind back
again to Religion: for in the entrance of Philosophy, when the second
causes, which are next unto the senses, do offer themselves to the
mind of man, if it dwell and stay there it may induce some oblivion
of the highest Cause; but when a man passeth on farther, and seeth
the dependence of causes and the works of Providence; then, according
to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe that the highest
link of Nature's chain must needs be tied to the foot of _Jupiter's_
chair."
_Lord Bacon's Advancement of Learning,_ Book I.
"Deus sine dominio, providentiâ, et causis finalibus nihil aliud est
quam fatum et natura. A cæcâ necessitate metaphysicâ, quæ eadem est
et semper et ubique, nulla oritur variatio. Tota rerum conditarum pro
locis ac temporibus diversitas, ab ideis et voluntate entis necessario
existentis solummodo oriri potuit."--_Sir Isaac Newton, Scholium at
close of Principia._
"Tax not my sloth that I
Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky
Writes a letter in my book.
"There was never mystery
But 'tis figured in the flowers;
Was never secret history
But birds tell it in the bowers."
_Emerson's Poems.--The Apology._
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER II.
This Chapter enters upon an examination of the kind of reasoning
involved in the Argument from Design, and an inquiry into its special
force. These investigations are accompanied by illustrative examples of
Analogy in different shapes. The most powerful objections against this
argument, and the various modes of stating it, are then described and
criticised.
A re-statement of the whole line of thought is followed by the outline
of a proposed method for the constructive science of Natural Theology.
The Chapter closes with a corollary on Efficient and Final Causes.
_Analysis_--Argument from Design--Its Popular Form, and the Popular
Objections raised against it--Art and Nature dissimilar--Organic
and Inorganic Worlds, their Unlikeness and their Likenesses--Difference
between Similitude and Analogy, whether the latter be Illustrative
or Illative, and easiest ways of stating both Analogies.
Scientific Difficulties--Charge of proving too much--Anthropomorphism
and Dualism--Physical and Moral Antithesis--Was Paley to blame
for introducing these Questions?--Answer to the charge of proving
too much--On how many points need Analogy rest?--Examples.
Charge of proving too little--Design assumes Designer as a Foregone
Conclusion--Process observed is test of Designer in Art, but fails in
Nature--Criticism on these Objections.
Baden Powell compared with Paley--Wide Views and Inductions--Argument
analysed into _Gradations_ of Proof, Order, and Intelligence--Means,
Ends, and Foresight--Physical and Moral Causation--Argument
analysed into various _Lines_ of Proof--Their Separate and
Consilient Force.
Value of Powell's views on Causation--Objections against some
peculiarities of his language--Natural Theology and Natural Religion
distinguished--Professor Newman--Use of Words on subject of Design.
Statement of the Constructive Method now to be employed--Corollary
on Efficient and Final Causes.
_Additional Notes and Illustrations_:--
A.--On the abstract reasonings involved in Natural Theology.
B.--On the phrase "Design implies a Designer."
C.--Hume on the analogies of Art and Nature.
D.--The Pantheistic consequences charged upon Physical Speculation.
E.--The extent and divisions of the Science of Natural Theology.
F.--On Teleology.
CHAPTER II.
PHILOSOPHY OF DESIGN.
The argument from Design in Nature has been made familiar to most
readers in Natural Theology by Paley's well-known book. It is probable
that no argument has ever been more praised, and at the same time
more strongly controverted. Our business lies, of course, with the
controversy; and we must say a few words on our present mode of dealing
with it.
Nothing could be more useless than to repeat illustrative examples
of Design already thrice told by an endless variety of treatises. Of
so wide a subject everything may be quoted as an illustration, from
a pebble to a world, if only the principle illustrated--the pivot on
which the argument turns--be understood and admitted. In modern times,
this turning-point is precisely the centre of the dispute. Untrained
minds misapprehend the meaning of the word Design, and are further
still from apprehending the real force of argument from analogy. And
when these subjects come to be discussed by skilled writers, various
questions are always raised which generally issue in irreconcilable
differences of opinion.
Our plan here will be to take the argument in its best-known shape,
and examine it from the points of view occupied by several classes
of objectors, beginning, as is reasonable, with the most popular
difficulties and misapprehensions. It does not seem necessary to load
the page with references to controversialists of the ordinary sort,
particularly as we endeavour to look at the whole question through
their eyes.
Respecting the more philosophic questions it is necessary to observe,
that the Evolution-theory will not form a topic of the present chapter.
It is excluded for two reasons. One, that we are now trying to put a
value on the argument from Design _per se_, and not to compare it with
rival theories. The other reason springs from the subject of Evolution
itself--it is too extensive to be thus briefly treated--and the sum of
this Essay must be taken together as furnishing a counter statement
to the manner in which it has been employed by certain of its ardent
advocates.[14]
We hope for a further advantage from the method proposed. The cause of
truth ought to gain from being looked at on more than one side; and,
whatever be the worth and true effect of reasoning from Design, we may
expect by this method to display it adequately.
The word itself, like all figurative terms--or words used in a
secondary sense--is by no means free from ambiguity. It has, in common
parlance, several shades of signification. Design being the centre of
Paley's argument, and containing the one idea which gives force to all
the rest: his first object was to fix the sense in which he employed
it. He did so by using an illustration.
To explain by comparison is always a popular resource, some serious
drawbacks notwithstanding. Almost every one prefers that an author
should use a sparkling similitude which tells a great deal, rather
than write what looks like a grammar and dictionary of his science.
Analysis and induction require thought on the part of him who employs
them--thought also on the part of a reader determined to understand
what he reads. Paley saw all this thoroughly, and at the beginning
of his book employed the now celebrated comparison taken from a
watchmaker and a watch. His judgment received support from the
popularity he enjoyed, and from the way in which everybody borrowed his
illustration.[15]
Yet Paley's deference to the popular understanding gave rise to the
first general misapprehension of his treatise. He sets out from a kind
of surprise--the surprise his readers would feel at finding a watch
upon a heath. Now this feeling was immediately alleged as a conclusive
objection against Paley's comparison, and as a ground for distrusting
the whole argument founded upon it. The world, it was said, cannot be
likened to a watch, nor yet to any other sort of mechanism. Between
things natural, and the things which men make, the difference is not
a mere contrast of perfection with imperfection. The real reason why
we are surprised to see Paley's watch lying on a moor--and not at all
surprised to see Paley's stone lying beside it--springs from this
very difference. And though the history of a stone, common, coarse,
and worthless, is really more wonderful than the history of any watch,
and though the stone has an infinitely longer pedigree, we should
never speak or think of it in the same way. We feel that the objects
are dissimilar, and our surprise testifies the fact. A heath is given
up to nature, a watchmaker's shop to art. The watch is out of place
among stones, the stone among watches. The idea raised at the outset,
therefore, is that Art and Nature would seem to be thoroughly unlike.
At a first view of the subject, these remarks appear open to one
obvious rejoinder. The sort of surprised feeling which Paley describes,
is not in itself a proof of real unlikeness. A weed is a plant out
of place; we do not expect thriving crops of cabbage or teazle in a
carefully kept rose-garden, nor gooseberry bushes amongst azaleas. The
proudest flower that blossoms is a weed in a vineyard, in a plot of
opium-poppies, or mixed with other herbs medicinal. So, too, a rough
diamond would not be out of place in a watchmaker's shop; but if we
saw a stone of no selling value inside a case of watches we should
certainly experience some surprise. And the feeling would remain even
though we were quite unable to explain how the poor pebble differed
chemically from the priceless gem. We know that the latter would appear
to a jeweller's customers like a rose among flowers, but the former
worthless as a weed. The jeweller would consider it a trespasser fit
only to be turned out of doors.
But does this rejoinder satisfactorily dispose of the difficulty? Is
not the true reason why we might observe with some wonder a watch lying
upon a moor resolvable into the fact of our knowing its use and being
quite sure that some one had dropped it there?[k] A savage might not
feel in the least surprised, unless, indeed, he happened to suppose
that the watch was a kind of animal he had never seen before, and took
notice of the singular sound it made. In this event he would probably
break it to pieces without discovering the purpose or mode of its
contrivance.
Throughout all disputatious matter, a thought on one side leads to a
thought upon the other--at least, amongst tolerably fair people. The
idea which we have just imagined our savage to entertain respecting a
watch suggests a further question. What effect ought in reason to be
produced upon cultured minds by the contemplation of some unknown or
half-comprehended phenomenon?--a question this, closely bearing upon
the whole subject under discussion. Now surely it is from intelligent
wonder--a contrast of the unknown with what we already know--a feeling
of mystery to be solved by us, that inquiry and science perpetually
spring. A fossil-shell, the former habitation of a marine animal, found
upon some mountain top, presents a contrast and a mystery of this kind.
Moreover, the highest triumph of inquiring science is the discovery,
not of difference anywhere, but rather of resemblances in objects
apparently diverse. An uninquiring mind will never perceive any common
attribute, either ideal or structural, between a stone and a watch.
But did Paley himself perceive any such community of attribute? So
far does he appear from the perception that he speaks of the stone as
an "unorganised, unmechanised substance, without mark or indication
of contrivance," and adds, "It might be difficult to show that such
substance could not have existed from eternity." Paley's day was meagre
in natural science, and Paley was as meagrely acquainted with its
results as he was with metaphysical philosophy. Few people, however,
even now-a-days, know enough of the laws which govern inorganic
products to find their investigation a slight or easy task. For a
purpose of comparison with any human work or mechanism, most inquirers
will prefer having recourse with Paley to the world of organisation.
The flower and fructification of a plant or shrub growing on the heath
beside Paley's watch, though carelessly passed over a thousand times,
and exciting no surprise from anything unusual in its _habitat_, will,
when observed, raise the most sincere admiration. And the same may be
said of the bony skeleton of the lizard[16] racing round plant and
shrub, the forehand of the mole which burrows beneath them, and the
wing of the bat circling nightly in upper air.
Take, then, replies the objector, an organism, vegetable or animal,
whichever you or Paley may prefer. The difficulty formerly urged at
once recurs, slightly altered in shape, but with augmented point and
force. Your organisms are not put together like the parts of a watch
(_undique collatis membris_)--brass from this place, steel from that,
and so on, with china dial-plate, covering-glass, and gold case.
All these things were apart in nature, they were severally chosen,
manipulated, and brought together. What we see is a successful union of
materials possessing inherent adaptation to definite purposes--such as
the freedom of brass from rust, or the superior elasticity of steel,
qualities indicating the skill and workmanlike knowledge of some human
artificer, and showing by their utilization the truth of what was
before asserted. Watches and worlds, the products of Art and of Nature,
are obviously and thoroughly unlike.
By way of answer, it might be observed that in organization we do
really see very distinct constituents combined. In a plant, for
instance, there is the combination of a growing point, a humus or
pabulum that feeds it, and the stimuli, air, water, light, and all
the "skiey influences" by which its passive vitality is excited
and sustained. We see plant life, by reason of these concurrent
adaptations, swelling into leaf, stem, bud, corolla, and fruit,
throughout all the brighter tribes of vegetable beauty that bloom
apparent to the unassisted eye. And the like holds true respecting
animals, but with increased variety and complication of conditions,
made necessary by their higher mode of existence. The marvels of
their many powers, habits, and perfections of form and movement are
great, but greater still the vast multitude of ministering aids put in
requisition to ensure their earliest appearance and after continuance
in life and enjoyment. When we contemplate microscopic Nature, a like
sweep of combination is again evident to the skilful naturalist, and
excites his constant wonder, especially when observed in connection
with the exquisite finish of minute creatures and their infinitesimal
parts, both alike unperceived by our ordinary human senses. And a
similar idea of invisible, and perhaps almost incomprehensible, harmony
might be raised by a consideration of the elements, metallic and
non-metallic, brought together in numberless inorganic productions, as
well as of the forces which bind them in hard cohesion, and give them
such properties as we may discover in the commonest block of granite.
And what if we could extend our field of view to a world--to the
universe?
The answer suggested by this last paragraph has its value, and the
principle involved in it will occur for our scrutiny further on. But
at present this train of thought, if pursued, might be likened to the
weed we spoke of,--it would not be altogether in place here. The truth
is that the whole objection thus parried appears more out of place
still, and is therefore itself not a flower, but a weed of popular
rhetoric. And the reason of its irrelevancy is plain. Paley's argument
does not really turn upon the similitude of any two objects of simple
apprehension, but upon an analogical comparison; the discovery, that
is, of the likeness between two ratios, a process known in common life
under the name of Proportion. Hence it is from the illative force of
analogy that this topic of Design derives its value. The analogy does,
in fact, serve a double purpose,--- _first_ to explain, and _secondly_
to prove. We had better look at it from both points of view.
The easiest method for making an _illustrative_ analogy intelligible is
to state it in old-fashioned style as a rule of three sum; the fourth
term being the conclusion which completes it. "As a watch is to the
watchmaker, so is creation, (exemplified by such and such a specimen,)
to its Creator." That is to say, there exists some ratio or relation
connecting the watch and the watchmaker, which exists also between the
world and its Creator.
To see its _illative_ force used as an argument, we need only alter the
position of the four terms, and state our proportion as is more usual
in modern day. "As the watch is to such and such specimens of creation,
so is the watchmaker to the Author of any and all of these things."
In the _first_ statement Paley's similitude is displayed in full as an
asserted illustration of Design. The watch is a thing contrived--that
is, a design realized, and the maker is its contriver. Just so, is the
world a Design realized by its Creator. And it appears plainly implied
in the assertion, that even as the little watch shows the limited power
and intelligence of its maker, so the vast and unfathomable universe
illustrates the infinite power and wisdom of its incomprehensible
Author.
The _second_ mode of statement displays the force of Paley's analogy
viewed as a chain of reasoning. The watch is _not like_ the world, but
there is something in common between them, and this something it is
Paley's purpose, and the purpose of his various continuators, to show
at the greatest convenient length. Now such community of character must
be sufficient to establish a further community still. When we see a
watch we are sure it had a designer,--the watchmaker; and here, again,
Paley means to argue that from every example of contrivance which we
can adduce and examine, the same inference ensues, and always must
ensue. Therefore (he concludes) from the immeasurable designed world we
infer the world's omnipotent Designer.
The chief Divine attributes (as, for example, omnipotence) are dwelt
upon by Paley towards the close of his treatise. But it seems well to
insert the adjective at once. Most thinking persons admit that whoever
believes in a Creator may find from the physical Cosmos and its
"Mysterious worlds untravelled by the sun,"
ample reason for justifying the noblest of such adjectives. They
generally go further, and allow that any Theist finds in these endless
marvels a full confirmation of his faith--there is, as Coleridge says,
a whole universe at hand to ratify the decision. But what many educated
people who concede thus much disallow, is the sufficient witness of
Design standing by itself to prove what it may fairly corroborate or
even extend. To illustrate, confirm, or widen what is already held a
truth is one thing; to serve as its sole sufficient witness is another.
This conclusiveness some deny, and more scruple to affirm. And one of
the drawbacks in arguing from analogy seems to be, that all except the
most philosophically trained minds experience a sort of hesitation
in estimating its force--a hesitation which they are at a loss to
define in words. Consequently, the attack upon its adequacy is always
difficult to answer; so many various shades of negation must be classed
together for brevity's sake, and met by one or two general lines of
defence. The safest way, probably, is to make the negative classes as
wide as possible, and to put the scientific doubts in their most fatal
form of expression. And it appears hard to imagine anything really
destructive of evidence which may not be brought under one of the two
following heads. There may be, first, a failure of evidence when it
is not strong enough in its facts and circumstances to justify the
conclusion drawn--when, in short, it proves too little. Secondly, it is
worthless, if its acceptance so damages the position occupied by those
who employ it, that their purpose is thereby destroyed, their _locus
standi_ demolished--in other words, they have proved too much.
May we not, then, presume it impossible to bring worse charges against
any argument than whatever can be urged in support of these two
accusations? And we will _first_ put the well-known analogy on its
trial for proving too much, because it is from anxiety to avoid this
charge that most analogical reasoners are apt to risk proving too
little.
Admit, say Paley's most decided antagonists, the relevancy of an
argument from human art. It must be taken to show the Creator of the
Universe as Theists conceive and acknowledge Him. Let us at once ask
in what light He is thereby represented? Is it not, so to speak, as a
supreme Anthropomorphic[l] Craftsman sketching a vast plan or design,
and moulding the materials necessary for its realization? We begin with
the remark that His work--the world--must show some traces of that
plastic process and the hand of its Moulder. The requirement seems just
and reasonable, and is commonly answered by an appeal to what have been
termed the records of creation, the structure of the heavens, and the
structure of the earth. Thus, for example, we are referred to Geology
and Palæontology, and are led from age to age, and type to type. In
passing from one formation to another we seem (as Goethe said) to catch
Nature in the fact. At all events the plastic process is everywhere
traceable, and to its evidences the Theist points with triumph.
But no intelligent objector can stop here. He will next inquire what
on theistic principles was the origin of this material substance so
constantly undergoing transformation. Most sceptical thinkers put the
inquiry in a trenchant manner; they not only demand to be answered,
but they prescribe beforehand the sort of answer to be returned. It is
useless, they tell us, to speak of archetypes existing in the Divine
mind, and to illustrate them by the creative thought of musician or
sculptor, of painter or of poet. The hard, coarse world must be looked
at as it is: an actual material habitation for sorrowing and sinful
human creatures; its physical conditions, imperfect in that respect,
unhappily corresponding too well with the low moralities of its tenants.
Now, they say, if we examine Paley's common-sense analogy no one
can at all doubt what answer is suggested there. The steel of the
watch-spring, the brass of the wheel-work, and other materials for all
the curious mechanical contrivances required, were taken into account
by the watch-designer when he formed his design. Had it been otherwise
he could not have calculated on finding the necessary strength,
elasticity, resistance to rust, and other properties on which Paley
dwells so distinctly. In like manner, it has been said by some physical
science Christians since Paley's time: "Let matter and its primary
properties be presupposed, and the argument from Design is easy." True,
but it seems quite as easy to suppose the world itself eternal. And we
know that this supposition was adopted by pagan philosophers, to whom
it appeared the easiest of all beliefs.
But other philosophic pagans, holding clearly that the world
had a beginning, conceived its First Cause to be like Paley's
Designer--analogous to an earthly workman. They carried out the analogy
thoroughly--more thoroughly than modern writers, and believed both
Artificer and the matter from which He shaped the visible universe,
self-subsistent, indestructible, and co-eternal.
In this eternity of matter and its native inflexibilities, these
great heathen thinkers found an apology for what they considered
the failure of creative power--misshapen things, monstrosities, and
imperfections. The Creator never desired them, but His will was
thwarted by the material He worked in. Against this dualism the early
Fathers protested. Will the modern Theist (his assailants ask) deny
himself, and affirm two independent and self-existent principles;
or will he deny the parallelism asserted in Paley's analogy? Can he
conscientiously believe that its issue is a worthy representation of
the Divine and omnipotent Creator? If not, it has failed by proving too
much[m].
raised. Who can help seeing that several of them lie equally against
all rational theories which have ever been suggested to account for the
origin of that sorrow and evil which we see and acknowledge everywhere?
And does not the same remark apply to every attempt at solving the
antithesis of mind and matter? Some thoughtful men have believed that
they could see their way to a solution; others believe it altogether
above human reason, and point with a kind of triumph to the failures
of philosophy. However this may be, the mournful moral enigma,[17]
and the unexplained antithesis underlying our knowledge of nature,
attach themselves equally to every possible conception of the universe,
religious or irreligious, common-sense or metaphysical. They have no
special connection with our argument from Design, and ought not in
fairness to be brought as objections against it.
The more real question just now is, whether Paley's mechanical analogy
was to blame for introducing the problem of cosmical matter into the
discussion.
On this question the opinions of competent and unprejudiced judges
disagree. By an eminent and accomplished writer the case is summed
up as follows, in the Harveian Oration for 1865. Having previously
included the material factor under mechanical adaptation as
distinguished from art in the highest sense, Dr. Acland goes on to
say (page 13): "The illustration of the watch so quaintly employed by
Nieuwentyt, and so entirely appropriated by Paley, only in a coarse
way suggests the parallel between infinite art and common mechanical
skill. It has done some mischief to the cause it advocates, by making
familiar a rude illustration, which minds without imagination, or void
of constructive power, have accepted as a recognised explanation of the
_method of operation_ by an Infinite Creative Will."
Paley's critics should however observe, that he did not himself
intend the objectionable inference. Probably he never even perceived
that it might be drawn from his comparison. Abstract inquiries
connected with Theism, he banished to the end of his book, where they
are discussed in a manner little calculated to satisfy any readers
who have ever felt them as substantial difficulties.[18] But then,
he would most likely have referred these persons to the writings of
professed metaphysicians. It may be wise for us to take warning both
by what Paley did and by what he left undone. Some deeper questions
are indispensable to the argument from Design, but we shall follow
his example so far as to avoid such disquisitions as were current in
his day under the name of metaphysics. On the other hand we shall
draw the required data from that critical Fact-philosophy of Mind and
Human Nature, which forms to so many thinkers the birth-star of a new
science, one amongst the rising hopes of our nineteenth century.
Meantime, our business on hand is to rebut the present accusation of
proving too much, brought against Paley's analogy. We shall try to
complete our answer by setting his argument in the point of view under
which he evidently meant it to be looked at.
Either as an illustration or as a means of proof, Analogy need not hold
in more than a single point; provided only that this single point is
clear and well-established--resting, for example, on a moral law or a
causal _nexus_. Any one who desires to make an analytical investigation
into this law of inference will receive valuable aid from Ueberweg's
Logic, §§ 131 and 2, particularly if compared with § 129.
To a common-sense mind we may give sufficient satisfaction by adducing
one or two good analogies. Thus, for instance, the duties of a
religious minister are often explained by saying that he ought to be
the shepherd of his flock; that is, his relation to his people ought
to resemble that of the shepherd to his sheep. We all understand how
truly is here expressed a world of watchful care. But are all points of
the relation to be implied? May the spiritual pastor ever become the
slayer or the salesman of his flock?
Again,--writers upon political subjects some years ago used very
commonly to quote from the days of Alfred the Great supposed precedents
for our most modern constitutional _dicta_. In many cases the thing
defended was a legitimate outgrowth of the precedent cited; but
to pronounce the two _identical_ seemed sufficiently absurd. In
confutation of some such absurdities, clever men argued that the body
corporate has, like the individual body, its childhood, growth, and
maturity. The argument became generally accepted, and got extended to
the distinctions between healthy increase and sickly degeneration, with
other like inferences. The further conclusion was next drawn, that
every national body resembles the human frame in a necessary decay, and
inevitable mortality. Now, whatever opinion may be entertained as to
the fact of a death-rate of nationalities, nothing seems more certain
than that those who first employed the comparison never contemplated
this particular corollary. Whether their first use of it was wise
or unwise, has been, like Paley's Watch-analogy, a matter of some
considerable dispute.
The general subject of Analogy, rightly or wrongly extended, admits of
wider illustration.
Simile and metaphor are often compressed analogies, and many of them
gain in beauty from expansion. Pope's celebrated comparison of the
traveller ascending the Alps with the student who scales the heights of
literature; and how
"Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise;"
is a good example of a poet's successfully expanding his own thought.
Still more exquisitively true to nature is the final parallel drawn in
Coleridge's description of the divided friends who stood apart,--
"Like cliffs which had been rent asunder,"
while the marks of a former union lingered indestructible. Perhaps
few readers of "Christabel" ever looked at Lodore, and "its scars
remaining," without feeling how aptly they represent traces of
thought and affection engraved upon the soul of man, deeper and more
imperishable than the primæval rocks between which the "dreary sea" now
flows.
The wonderful force of many among Shakespeare's metaphors is derived
from compressed analogy. But by expanding
"The slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune,"
we should form no better conception of the goddess; and the next line,
"Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,"
might easily be turned into nonsense! Like Paley's "watch," the "sea"
holds true only in one point. Shakespeare had before his eye the image
of multitudinous vastness. But what arms could we take up to stem the
billows of a swelling tide?
No one can read many commentators on the Scripture without feeling
how groundless are numberless conclusions arrived at by extending
Scriptural analogies beyond their just limits. Preachers and platform
speakers are still more guilty. Not content with straining Holy Writ,
they add to the mischief by pressing into their service comparisons
of double meaning. The above quoted word "sea," has long been a
much-enduring similitude in its relation to the countries and islands
of the earth. What is it really to us, the earth's inhabitants? Our
highway and bond of union? or a waste of waters given to divide rivals,
as Horace phrases it, "_Oceano dissociabili_"? The last is the oldest
metaphor.[19]
Enough has been said upon various analogies to show how frequently even
in their widest use (that of illustration), the effect of extending
them beyond their one salient point, is utter confusion. And with
respect to illative analogy, this rule becomes obviously more stringent
still. Paley meant it to be observed strictly as regards his own
analogous reasoning.
But the caution itself must be cautiously applied, where the salient
point on which the inference turns is too superficial, or too weak
to stand alone. And this is the very thing we have to discuss
next,--because a _second_ accusation brought against the argument from
Design is, that by reason of weakness in its pivot, it proves far too
little.
This second charge is less usual amongst popular than scientific
writers, and most of us may learn something by sifting it. Their
position may be described in few words as standing thus:--
All examples which men can, of their own knowledge, connect with
Design, fall under one sole class, and from this class alone they
can argue. It contains the products of human workmanship and
manufacture--and nothing else. By its characteristic processes (which
together with their result make the sum of what we know about this
class) it is so essentially dissociated from the products of Nature,
that any appearance of design common between them must be pronounced
superficial in the absence of stronger _nexus_. But since proof of
such _nexus_ remains wanting, Paley's analogy is worthless. It will
be observed that the effect of this position is to sever between
human works and natural things quite as completely as did the popular
objection which we put first in our list of assaults upon Paley. Yet,
though these conclusions may seem suspiciously coincident, the grounds
of argument are really distinct. Scientific persons do not compare two
objects natural and artificial, nor yet their two sets of constituents,
and say, "These are unlike." They argue rather that the relative or
proportionate likeness asserted is insufficiently made out, and that
when it is said "Design implies a designer," people are speaking of
design worked out in the known way of workmen. We (they observe) need
not _deny_ a designer of the world, but we desiderate evidence of his
actual workmanship. By this we shall know that he first conceived and
then realized the alleged design. We do not feel convinced by being
shown certain organic _somethings_ in their perfect state, and being
told to observe how very like contrivances they are. They may be very
like, certainly, but we want assurances that they can be nothing else.
We want to have shown us some work _being_ done, and to ascertain
that it is carried on in a workmanlike manner. Then we shall say with
confidence, Here is the active hand of a designer. To compress our
requisition into a single sentence,--We want not only to catch Nature
in the fact, but also to ascertain that Nature's way of performing the
fact has something essentially humanlike about it.
To see our meaning clearly (add these objectors) take the instance of
some marvellous work of man's art previously unknown to us. We could,
if we perceived the _marks_ of human fabrication, reason from a watch,
or some other well known machine, to the conclusion that some person
had designed it. In other words, we should feel sure that we were
looking at a new product of skill, which differed from what we had seen
before in the degree of excellence attained. The difference we feel in
our transition from Art to Nature appears, on the contrary, to be a
difference not only between more or less perfect products or processes,
but a thorough difference of kind in the whole _manner_ of bringing
about the results placed before our eyes. Or put the case (they
continue) as a piece of circumstantial evidence. We say positively of
this or that machine, They are contrivances, things designed, because
we know the _history_ of their manufacture. We feel positive, because
we are arguing from a plain patent fact to a hidden but absolutely
essential condition, without which the fact could not exist. As regards
natural products we have not got the fact--we do not know the history
of their production. We cannot say, Here is the process, because the
processes of Nature are mostly unknown to us. Paley therefore would
have us assume the fact and argue from it; first to design, next, to
something more hidden still,--a Designer. Yet what we _do_ know of
natural processes is not encouraging; there is visible about them more
unlikeness than likeness to the processes employed by man. The truth
may be surmised, that Paley was always seeing in his own examples the
footprints, as he thought, of a Designer. Hence he affirmed Design,
and then argued back again in a never-ending circle. There is really
no reason why he should have travelled round such a circuit. If his
argument shows anything, it shows a Designer at once.[n]
With some risk of tediousness, this last attack on Paley has been
detailed at great length, and placed (as the present writer believes)
in several of its most formidable shapes[o]. But for additional
security of fair dealing with the strongest of all objections--one
which, if established, would be a death-blow to all argument on the
subject (since its _ultimatum_ is unconditional surrender)--for these
reasons, then, and in order to satisfy the most rigorous understanding,
let it be finally rehearsed in the words of a most eminent physicist
whom no one will accuse of haste, oversight, or credulity. To this
rehearsal the Professor adds what is to us more important still,--his
judgment on the point at issue.
But before quoting Professor Baden Powell, it may be worth while to
make two short notes on the few preceding paragraphs. Let us take the
last paragraph first.
It really does appear that marks of Design and the footprints of a
Designer are in common sense very nearly one and the same thing. If we
concentrate our attention on the former, we are looking at an object
on the side of certain properties,--that is, of certain subjectively
perceived relations. For instance, we may think of the eye only as an
optical instrument wonderfully constituted, and enumerate the parts of
its visual apparatus. But the moment we speak of this apparatus as a
provision _intentionally_ made for sight, we have introduced the idea
of a Designer in the strongest sense of the word. Now, it is difficult
to think of anything as an example of intelligent arrangement, and
at the same time give no hint even to our own thoughts of arranging
Intelligence. We can hardly look through a pane of glass and admire the
perfect transparency of _one_ surface to the exclusion of the _other_!
We are not now speaking of what _might_ be done, if attempted by a man
so profoundly skilled in analytics that
"He could distinguish, and divide
A hair 'twixt south and south-west side."
We are rather speaking of what it is _natural_ to do. And it may be
doubted whether anybody thinks of a design _as_ design very long
without thinking also of the Designer.
One other remark is suggested by the reference to _process_ as
contradistinguished from _product_. Here, again, the real question
is, How far is such a distinction maintainable in fact? Does it rest
upon any definite separation in Nature? The exact contradictory is the
truth; taking the world as it is, the distinction, though clear in
thought, becomes essentially fluent when objectively regarded. What
we call a production one moment, we say is a process the next. You
have, for example, a galvanic current, produced by certain chemical
combinations, and often a product _per se_ of some importance. Yet the
current itself is a part of the electrotyping process. Suppose this
done, you have your electrotype--your coin,--a hard fact,--a solid
production, bright, beautiful, admirable! But we will suppose you,
while devising all this, to have a further view;--the coin is to be
employed in the process of imposture. Here again comes a result--a
great fraud committed; but this is not all. The fraudulent procedure
turns out a very useful police-trap, and your chemical combination
sends the last actor on the scene to Portland, for at least ten years.
Consider in this brief history the scientific arrangements, material
conditions, and workmanlike execution, discernible in its earlier
parts; then, see how mind becomes gradually predominant, and how Law,
based on ideas of corrective justice, enters the series. Add the
judge and jury, and you admit the force of intellect,--deliberating,
deciding, putting further activities in motion; till, perhaps, if the
reformatory process succeeds, Portland may have the honour of giving to
society the welcome product of (as times go) a passably honest man. We
might really frame a curious inquiry as respects this flowing tide of
process and production, production and process, with its commingling
currents and waves which seem to interrupt each other like circles of
diffracted light. We might ask which of all these parts of the moving
diorama is most distinctly human. I believe most people would say,
those scenes in which mind, not mere workmanship, is most evidently
discernible.
Professor Powell seems to have thought so too. The difficulty we have
been discussing he states as an objection requiring solution.[20]
"In those cases most nearly approaching the nature of human works,
such as the varied and endless changes in matter going on in the
_laboratory of nature_, the results, even when most analogous to those
obtained in human laboratories, yet present no marks of the process or
of the means employed, by which to recognise the analogous workman;
and in all the grander productions, the incessant evolutions of
vegetable and animal life, which no human laboratory can produce,--in
the structure of earth and ocean, or the infinite expanse of the
heavens and their transcendent mechanism, still further must we be
from finding any analogy to the works of man, or, by consequence, any
analogy to a personal individual artificer."
The next paragraph contains his own judgment.
"But the more just view of the case is that which arises from
the consideration that the real evidence is that of _mind_ and
_intelligence_; for here we have a proper and strict analogy. _Mind_
directing the operations of the laboratory or the workshop, is no
part of the _visible apparatus_, nor are its operations seen in
_themselves_--they are visible only in their _effects_;--and from
effects, however dissimilar in magnitude or in kind, yet agreeing
in the one grand condition of _order_, _adjustment_, profound and
recondite connexion and dependence, there is the same evidence and
outward manifestation of INVISIBLE INTELLIGENCE, as vast and
illimitable as the universe throughout which those manifestations are
seen."
This second extract may be analysed into distinct propositions somewhat
as follows:--
In a manufactory,--
Mind is no part of the visible apparatus--nor are its operations
visible,--
But the effects make the operations manifest.--
In the universe,--
Effects may be seen differing from Human productions in many ways,--but
agreeing in one common characteristic,--order--adjustment--hidden
interdependence.
Such effects make manifest the operation of an Invisible Intelligence
as vast as the Universe itself.
The majority of people might suppose this a conclusive inference from
Nature to the Being of a Personal God. But Professor Powell does not
so intend it; and therefore some readers may feel disposed to blame
his use of words. It is, however, only fair that before so doing, they
should carefully consider his whole mode of apprehending the subject in
its completeness. And the easiest way of understanding Powell is, most
probably, to compare him with Paley.
The latter is confident that when he has derived the design and
arrangement of the world from a mind analogous to the mind of man, but
immeasurably vast as the Universe which man inhabits,--little more need
be said. He thinks the infinite intelligence thus demonstrated, is
clearly no other than the Great First Cause, and Creator of all things.
"Contrivance, if established, appears to me to prove everything which
we wish to prove." This sentence begins Chap. xxiii., and the rest of
Paley's Natural Theology is intended to demonstrate and verify its
correctness.
Powell thinks that the step from a mind or intelligence, even if
conceived illimitable as the Universe, to a First Cause, Supreme Mind,
or Moral Cause, is a very much longer ascent[p] than Paley thought it.
By these latter terms he meant--as Paley did--the Divine Personality
believed in by Theists, and evidenced, _first_, as mind by a reign
of law, order, and arrangement, so far as the world can evidence
Him;--but manifest, _secondly_, in His higher nature as the fountain
and originator of law--that is, a true Cause, a manifestation due to
the causal structure of our own human minds. The point of difference is
the length of the step to be taken from Law to Causation; but Powell
agrees with his predecessor in asserting it, though arduous, to be
absolutely safe. The point he insists on is that we cannot take it by
a contemplation of the world without us only. "Ever-present _mind_" he
says,[21] "is a direct inference from the universal order of nature,
or rather only another mode of expressing it. But of the _mode_ of
existence of that mind we can infer nothing."
From this view he draws conclusions in opposite directions.
Pantheism,[22] the co-existence or identification of mind with
matter, "is at best a mere gratuitous hypothesis, and as such
wholly unphilosophical in itself, and leading to many preposterous
consequences." There are also grounds on which Theism appears certain
and Pantheism extravagant, absurd, and contradictory.[23] To see
these grounds we are to carry out the analogy given us by the common
characteristics of order, adjustment, and interdependence visible
through their effects as in the human workshop or laboratory, so, too,
in the vast illimitable Universe, and described in our second extract
as manifestations of Mind or invisible Intelligence. In the paragraph
immediately following that extract,[24] he continues:--
"It is by _analogy_ with the exercise of intellect, and the volition,
or power of moral causation, of which we are conscious within
ourselves, that we speak of the _Supreme Mind_ and _Moral Cause_ of
the Universe, of whose operation, order, arrangement and adaptation,
are the external manifestations. _Order_ implies what by _analogy_
we call _intelligence_; subserviency to an observed end implies
intelligence _foreseeing_ which by analogy, we call _Design_."
The last sentence of the paragraph now quoted is very remarkable.
The eminent writer directs attention to a distinction between two
several inferences which can be drawn from the observed manifestations
of Order, and of Foresight. From the first, he says, we infer
Intelligence, from the latter we infer Design. It seems singular that
Powell should have defined this distinction so clearly, and made no
further use of it.
He might naturally have insisted upon the separate and diverse
evidences thus afforded by the physical world. Amid the variety of
human minds, some may feel impressed by the contemplation of Nature in
one of these ways, some in the other. To many persons the magnificent
spectacle of a law-governed Universe, infinitely manifold yet
everywhere harmonious, appears to justify the belief in one supreme
Reason and sovereign Will. Separate parts of this same Universe--or
the whole in its entirety of vastness--when considered as manifesting
purpose--that is, intentional adaptation to separate ends or to one
end--are to other minds a more convincing line of thought.
With many writers on Natural Theology the different shades of meaning
implied in the word Design[25] may prevent clearness of conception in
this respect. But our author (like Paley) appears to use this word in
its strongest signification.
And this usage of Powell's brings into view another point in his
reasoning even more singular than the one to which we have just
adverted. Surely, if in the natural world we observe the manifestations
of an Intelligence foreseeing an End, and employing means in
subserviency to that end, it seems strange to conclude that respecting
the mode of existence of such Intelligence we can infer nothing,
yet the words occur on the very next page. It would seem almost an
impossibility to suppose such a mind existing as anything less than a
Personality under the twofold aspect of a Reason and a Will. Paley's
common sense drew this conclusion at once, and very profound thinkers
have agreed with Paley on the topic. "That," says F. H. Jacobi, "which,
in opposition to Fate, makes God into a true God, is called Foresight.
Where it is, there alone is Reason; and where Reason is, there also is
Foresight. Foresight in itself is Spirit, and to that only which is of
Spirit do those feelings of admiration, awe, and love, which announce
its existence, correspond. We can indeed declare of any object that
it is beautiful or perfect, without previously knowing how it became
so, whether with or without the operation of Foresight;--but the power
which caused it so to be, _that_ we cannot admire, if it produced the
object, without aim or purpose, according to laws of mere Necessity of
Nature."[26]
In point of fact Professor Powell was himself of the same opinion, for
in another place he writes thus:--
"Now, the bare fact of order and arrangement is on all hands
undisputed, though commonly most inadequately understood and
appreciated.
"The inference of design, intention, forethought, is something
_beyond_ the last mentioned truth, and not to be _confounded with it_.
This implies intelligent agency, or moral causation. Hence again, we
advance to the notion of distinct existence, or what is sometimes
called personality; and thence proceed to ascribe the other Divine
attributes and perfections as centring in that independent Being."[27]
It appears only just to the Archdeacon that we should notice this
variation of language on the part of his censor.[28] Of this variation
itself the true account seems undoubtedly to be as follows. The writer
was engaged in tracing the progress of conviction in his own mind.
He first observes order, adjustment, interdependence, throughout
the Universe. Hence he is penetrated by the impression of pervading
Intelligence. Next, he perceives that these results could never have
taken place unless foreseen and provided for by a designed subserviency
of means to ends, and this convinces him of the Personality of that
universal Mind. Finally, he draws, from the analysis of Causation, a
full definition of the great Originator of all things.
The fact, however, remains that each of these gradations of reasoning
may be stated just as easily and more logically as separate and
convergent lines of thought, because each can be rested on a separate
combination of proofs. But the elucidation of this subject cannot be
compressed into few words, and must be deferred to our fifth and sixth
chapters.
Still there is a very peculiar and special satisfaction in following
the path of argument which persuaded an acute and practised reasoner,
accomplished in several departments of knowledge, and himself of a turn
of mind which would appear naturally adapted to the utmost refinements
of sceptical investigation. We shall, therefore, now return to our
comparison of Powell with his predecessor.
These two distinguished writers do, in fact, come at last to the
same conclusion. But they reach it through a difference in the paths
travelled over by such logic of evidence as may after all seem natural
enough to a theological pleader on one side, and on the other to a
scientific physicist.
Professor Powell, of course, leads us more deeply than his predecessor
into the thorny thickets surrounding Natural Theology. No one can read
his essays without remarking the subtlety of his thought, which to
many readers appears over refined, and to some as employed on points
in themselves unimportant. Mr. Baden Powell's own deliberate judgment
was the other way, as we find from the last[29] of his considerable
performances on our subject. "Points," he writes, "which may be seen to
involve the greatest difficulty to more profound inquirers, are often
such as do not occasion the least perplexity to ordinary minds, but are
allowed to pass without hesitation.... On the other hand, exceptions
held forth as fatal by the shallow caviller are seen by the more deeply
reflecting in all their actual littleness and fallacy."
We may add that a subtle argument is often like a sharp thin blade,
cutting clean into the very heart of a question. If it indeed prove
a home thrust, few things ought to be more fearlessly and cheerfully
welcomed by those who desire to dissect out the naked, intrinsic truth.
We will, therefore, dissect a little deeper, following the Professor's
track of demonstration.
We find him, then, reaching down to a _septum_, or, as botanists prefer
to speak, a strong dissepiment between a _law of Nature_ or _physical
causation_, and a _true Cause_ in the highest and most emphatic
sense[q].
Such a separation is not to be sought from a writer of Paley's date,
when the modern notion of law was unformed, or rather was in process
of formation. Thus Newton's discoveries were thought by many persons
irreligious, because the stability of the heavens appeared like
something necessarily determined. Respecting this opinion, Powell
observes (and from his point of view with truth), that "such necessity
of reason is the highest proof of design." Paley, on the contrary,
felt inclined to despair of discovering much evidence of Design in
Astronomy, but he looked upon the starry heavens as affording the
most ample and glorious confirmation of the agency of an intelligent
Creator, when proved from some other source. In his next chapter (the
23rd) he proceeds to reprehend the mistaken sense of law, growing up
amongst physicists in his own day. "It will," he says, "be made to take
the place of power, and still more, of intelligent power," and will
"be assigned for the cause of anything or of any property of anything
that exists." In this remark he shows his accustomed penetration. Law,
antecedent and consequent, with their series of physical evolutions,
have been talked of by men who confuse physics and metaphysics, as
if they could thereby account for a whole universe.[30] Now, from
this cloudy confusion[r], Professor Powell is exempt. He accepts (as
obviously he must accept) the natural-science idea of law, which looks
at it as an orderly expression of force, and tells us that "law and
order, physical causation and uniformity of action are the elevated
manifestations of Divinity, creation and providence."[31] But from
the conception of Mind or Intelligence thus given us, which, though
invisible to the eye, is yet, in its effects, plainly visible, he
distinguishes, over and over again, the idea of a true originating
first Cause.[32] We see the necessity of a moral Cause as distinguished
from a physical antecedent, when we survey Nature. But Nature does
not contain the idea in an explicit shape. She only necessitates its
acceptance. This idea, we find, he tells us, manifest in our own moral
nature,--by analogy we discern it in the Divine. He likewise severely
blames those who commingle in words the two contrasted thoughts and
lines of inference, and mentions Coleridge and Sterling[33] by way of
example. As concerns his own mode of establishing the idea of causation
in its proper and peculiar force, Professor Powell agrees with a large
number of metaphysicians, ancient and modern. It might seem superfluous
to name as an instance the late Dean Mansel, were not a passage in his
"Prolegomena" so full of good matter on the topic.[34]
In this view of causation, then, Powell advanced nothing new. But what
he did advance was really valuable. The man who can rise no higher than
law or succession as he sees it impressed on outward nature, stands in
a totally different position from the man whose insight into Reason
and Will has shown him the idea of true Causation. For, he has seen
that whoever is the author of his own act, does something which puts
in movement a new series of antecedence and consequence,--a new train
of events, the issue of which no man can foresee;--though of what has
come, and is coming, he, the individual man, is the truly responsible
cause[s]. But if _he_ can introduce into the order of the outward world
a new antecedent carrying after it a chain of new consequents, what
shall he think respecting the absolute Cause of all worlds, things and
beings, the thinker himself included? Who shall persuade him to deny
the reasonableness of a Providence following creation? Who can reprove
the man when he feels and asserts his own moral power, for a belief in
Miracles? Above all, who will demonstrate that prayer is inefficacious,
if we can rise (as Baden Powell says we can rise) "by _analogy_
with the exercise of intellect, and the volition, or power of moral
causation, of which we are conscious within ourselves, to the Supreme
Mind and Moral Cause of the universe?"
It is no slight praise to say that Professor Powell clearly saw,
and no less clearly expressed, a truth not always apprehended among
physicists. By giving it expression, he rendered a substantial service
to Natural Theology. It is, indeed, a serious drawback and impediment
to Natural Theologians that their argument requires some acquaintance
with more than one wide field of knowledge. They have to reason from
the material world,--they have also to reason from the world of mind;
and in countries like England, France, and Germany, where division of
labour penetrates every calling, literary as well as manufacturing, a
combination of this sort is a matter of infrequent occurrence. To this
retarding circumstance may be ascribed the want of progress in several
mixed sciences,[35] which, like the subject we are treating, occupy two
distinct tracts of border-land territory.
The separating wall between Law and Cause built up by Professor Powell,
was founded on fact, and will probably remain unshaken. But he added to
it a theoretical limitation of the term, Natural Theology, which, like
many changes in verbal usage, does not appear defensible,--particularly
as its bad effects are plainly shown in Professor Powell's own book.
Within two pages of the passage on Causation last quoted, he startles
the unwary reader by saying (p. 173) that "Natural Theology confessedly
'proves too little,' because it cannot rise to the metaphysical
idea or scriptural representation of God." It is generally vain to
inquire what may be meant by "Metaphysical." Few people are aware
that everybody, learned or unlearned, talks metaphysics either well
or ill; and usually (as M. Jourdain talked prose) without knowing it.
The epithet "metaphysical" figures often enough as another name for
what is unintelligible;--and most Englishmen apply it to all "ideas"
not strictly commercial or practical. Here it seems to stand along
with Scripture, in opposition to Natural Theology; while the latter
term is in turn opposed to the science of the human mind. Yet does not
Powell distinctly trace a Mind and Intelligence analogous to the mind
and intelligence of Man, throughout the world of outward Nature; and
does he not further determine that this same analogy, fairly carried
out, leads to what he _now_ calls "the metaphysical idea, or scriptural
representation of God?" In other words, when discussing the question
of Evidence, he finds Mind pervading outward Nature,--he treats Mind
as the ordering and sovereign part of the Natural world, which visibly
shows the effect of its invisible direction, and bids us follow up this
higher nature in its analogies to God, of Whose operation the order
and arrangement of the Universe are external manifestations. But, when
he speaks of Natural Theology, that higher nature seems to disappear;
intellect, volition, and the power of moral causation, slip out of
sight, and are blotted from his catalogue of natural facts. Human
nature must thus be treated as no part of universal Nature, in order
that a needlessly narrow and purely theoretical fence may be drawn
round the science of Natural Theology! Natural Theology and Natural
Religion are, in truth, terms originally adopted as mere antitheses
to Revelation. The _first_ signifies what mankind might have known,
or may know, of the Divine Being, prior to, or apart from, any direct
message sent by Himself. The _second_ is intended to comprehend those
relations between that Divine Being and ourselves, which must ensue
immediately upon the acceptance of Theism.[36] The _ideas_ expressed by
these two terms are as old as Revelation itself,--a strong reason why
their meaning should not be lightly altered.[37] But this antithetic
usage was never intended to prejudge the question whether the results
of Natural Theology and Religion do not coincide to a very great extent
with the teaching of revelation. Much less was there any idea of
answering this question in the negative, as a hasty reader of certain
isolated passages in Professor Powell's book might easily be led to
answer it.[38]
Our strictures may be aptly concluded by a quotation taken from another
recent writer. Professor Newman understands the evidence of Design in
the same breadth of meaning which we have attached to it. Under it he
comprehends the evidence of Mind naturally known to us, as may be seen
by the following extracts:--
"A lung," says Mr. Newman,[39] "bears a certain relation to the air,
a gill to the water, the eye to light, the mind to truth, human
hearts to one another: is it gratuitous and puerile to say that
these relations imply design? There is no undue specification here,
no antagonist argument, no intrusion of human artifice: we take the
things fresh from nature. In saying that lungs _were intended_ to
breathe, and eyes to see, we imply an argument from Fitness to Design,
which carries conviction to the overwhelming majority of cultivated
as well as uncultivated minds.... If such a fact stood alone in
the universe, and no other existences _spoke of Design_, it would
probably remain a mere enigma to us; but when the whole human world is
pervaded by similar instances, not to see a Universal Mind in nature
appears almost a brutal insensibility.... Of the physical structure
of mind, no one pretends to know anything; but this does not weaken
our conviction that the mind was meant to discern truth. Why should
any philosopher resist this judgment? One thing might justify him;
namely, if there were strong _à priori_ reasons for disbelieving that
Mind exists anywhere except in man. But the case is just the reverse.
That puny beings who are but of yesterday, and presently disappear,
should alone possess that which of all things is highest and most
wonderful, is _à priori_ exceedingly unplausible. As Socrates and
Cicero have pointedly asked: 'Whence have we picked it up?' Its source
is not in ourselves: there must surely be a source beyond us. Thus the
tables are turned: we must _primâ facie_ expect to find Mind in the
Universe, acting on some stupendous scale, and of course imperfectly
understood by us. Consequently, such Fitnesses as meet our view on all
sides bring a reasonable conviction that Design lies beneath them. To
confess this, is to confess the doctrine of an _intelligent Creator_,
although we pretend not to understand anything concerning the mode,
stages, or time of Creation. _Adding now the conclusions drawn
from the Order of the universe_, we have testimony, adapted to the
cultivated judgment, that there is a Boundless, Eternal, Unchangeable,
Designing Mind, not without whom this system of things coheres: and
this Mind we call GOD."
To take stumbling-blocks out of the reader's way has been the main
object of this Chapter. It has discussed the meaning and force of
several words. The discussion may have seemed somewhat intricate,--but
if honest, and, so far as it goes, thorough, no one will deny its
utility. For facts are known to us as words, and words are facts to
our intellect, since they express our apprehension of objects. They
are, in brief, the interpreters of a world-wide human consciousness.
And in the strength of consciousness our knowledge stands, if it does
stand;--unfaithful to consciousness, it must fall, and ought to die the
death of a traitor.[40]
The word most discussed has been that one upon which turns the best
known argument by Natural Theology--"Design." We trust also, that it
may hereafter gain additional clearness under sidelights from other
trains of thought.[41] And what next follows will be essentially a
discussion of thoughts and things--in which words are to be treated
less as their representatives, and more as our servants and implements.
For this Chapter will have been written to very little purpose if the
reader has failed to perceive that Natural Theology[42] includes at
the very least two distinct elements--two separate sets of premises
drawn from different sources. One of these factors rests upon our
human knowledge of the natural world we live in--the other requires a
deeper kind of knowledge, and one far less cultivated upon inductive
principles--the knowledge, that is to say, of our own nature--our
essential humanity and self-ness.
The investigation of this last element is of paramount importance for
the purpose we have in hand, since, without some ascertained principles
and conditions of truth, men may fold their hands and view all behind
and above the moving diorama of present impressions as ideas sublime
but hopeless[43]--too high for us, who surely can never attain to
them. The plan, therefore, of this essay is to take from the point now
reached a fresh start--to set out, not from a consideration of what we
may desire to know, but of how much or how little can be known, and the
conditions of our knowing it.
An honest wish to be sure of one single thing soon shows us the
impediments we meet in making quite sure of anything. Soon, also, we
painfully learn that these impediments arise from _two_ persistent sets
of causes. Difficulties on the one hand occasioned by the obscurity,
complication, or many-sidedness of objects actually existing _in
rerum naturâ_. Difficulties on the other hand, which, like barnacles
and remoræ attached to a good ship's wooden bottom, act as drags
and retardations on our own apprehending faculties. Barnacle-like,
they can only be kept at a distance or detached by carefully-devised
contrivances. And these again give rise to troubles of other
kinds,--just as copper-sheathed keels or iron vessels are not without
their drawbacks.
The inquiry we propose will have a great collateral advantage, both to
him who doubts and to him who accepts Theism. For we shall at least
get rid of what may fairly be termed a stupid prejudice. Persons who
read and think little, are apt to base upon their own ignorance a vague
presumption that the path of knowledge is plain and easy, until men
try to know God. _Then_ all is hard; the pleasant path becomes a rough
and toilsome road. Others who read, but think less than they read,
are aware that very real obstacles beset all deep inquiry, yet form
hazy and imperfect notions as to the true extent of those obstacles.
They little think how often we are all obliged to accept and maintain
first truths;--difficulties objective, and difficulties subjective,
notwithstanding.
Of one practical conclusion resulting from these difficulties, we
may feel assured beforehand. Many objects of the greatest interest
and importance to truth can never be truly known as they are in
themselves;--our utmost hope is to know, not them, but as much as we
can discover respecting them. And sometimes this limited knowledge is
invaluable. If it does not gratify our natural desire for speculation,
it may often guide and govern our lives. Unspeakably important, for
example, in itself and in its consequences, must be an affirmative
answer to our anxious question concerning the existence of a God.
* * * * *
COROLLARY.--It plainly appears from what has been said, that
the knowledge of an "efficient cause" (in physics) does not, and
cannot, at all preclude the inquiry after a purpose or "final cause";
but, on the contrary, leads to its investigation. In a watch's action,
the former is represented by the moving power--that is, the spring; the
latter, by the watch's function--that of indicating hours, minutes,
and seconds. Would any uninformed person, examining a watch for the
first time, and knowing no more than what he sees,--be able to give to
himself any real account of the watch, if spring, train of wheel-work,
and pointers, were shown him; but _no_ hint given of the purpose and
object of the _whole_ construction? Now, to tell him this, would be
to convey the _idea_,--a principle which resides in Mind, and in Mind
alone;--and, so residing, leads to intelligent adaptation;--that is,
a law or laws apprehended by the active exercise of certain mental
faculties.
Let the intelligent reader ask himself whether _any_ functional
structure can be comprehended on _any_ lower terms?--As however this
latter question will be fully discussed further on, it is unnecessary
to say more respecting it at present.
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER II.
A.--ON THE ABSTRACT REASONINGS INVOLVED IN NATURAL THEOLOGY.
In his discourse on Natural Theology, Lord Brougham writes thus (p.
78):--"The whole reasoning proceeds necessarily upon the assumption
that there exists a being or thing separate from, and independent of,
matter, and conscious of its own existence, which we call _mind_. For
the argument is, 'Had I to accomplish this purpose, I should have used
some such means'; or, 'Had I used these means, I should have thought
I was accomplishing some such purpose.' Perceiving the adaptation of
the means to the end, the inference is, that some being has acted
as we should ourselves act, and with the same views. But when we so
speak, and so reason, we are all the while referring to an intelligent
principle or existence; we are referring to our mind, and not to our
bodily frame."... "The belief that mind exists is essential to the
whole argument by which we infer that the Deity exists. This belief ...
is the foundation of Natural Theology in all its branches; and upon
the scheme of materialism no rational, indeed no intelligible, account
can be given of a first cause, or of the creation or government of the
universe."
In a foot-note, Lord Brougham adds:--"It is worthy of observation that
not the least allusion is made in Dr. Paley's work to the argument here
stated, although it is the foundation of the whole of Natural Theology.
Not only does this author leave entirely untouched the argument _à
priori_ (as it is called), and also all the inductive arguments derived
from the phenomena of mind, but he does not even advert to the argument
upon which the inference of design must of necessity rest--that design
which is the whole subject of his book. Nothing can more evince his
distaste or incapacity for metaphysical researches. He assumes the very
position which alone sceptics dispute. In combating him they would
assert that he begged the whole question; for certainly they do not
deny, at least in modern times, the _fact_ of adaptation. As to the
fundamental doctrine of causation, not the least allusion is ever made
to it in any of his writings,--even in his Moral Philosophy."
It is when reviewing this last-named treatise that Dr. Whewell remarks
(History of Moral Philosophy, p. 169):--
"The fact is that Paley had no taste, and therefore we may be allowed
to say that he had little aptitude, for metaphysical disquisitions.
In this there would have been no blame, if he had not entered into
speculations which, if they were not metaphysically right, must be
altogether wrong. We often hear persons declare that they have no
esteem for metaphysics, and intend to shun all metaphysical reasonings;
and this is usually the prelude to some specimen of very _bad_
metaphysics: for I know no better term by which to designate the
process of misunderstanding and confounding those elements of truth
which are supplied by the relations of our own ideas. That Paley had no
turn or talent for the reasoning which depends on such relations, is
plain enough."
The reader may with little trouble collect for himself what is meant
by bad metaphysics from the following extracts. The first is Lord
Macaulay's criticism on the metaphysics of the Schools, which he
introduces into his essay on Francis Bacon, as follows:--
"By stimulating men to the discovery of useful truth, he" (Bacon)
"furnished them with a motive to perform the inductive process
well and carefully. His predecessors had been, in his phrase, not
interpreters, but anticipators of nature. They had been content with
the first principles at which they had arrived by the most scanty and
slovenly induction. And why was this? It was, we conceive, because
their philosophy proposed to itself no practical end--because it was
merely an exercise of the mind. A man who wants to contrive a new
machine or a new medicine has a strong motive to observe accurately
and patiently, and to try experiment after experiment. But a man who
merely wants a theme for disputation or declamation has no such motive.
He is therefore content with premises grounded on assumption, or on
the most scanty and hasty induction. Thus, we conceive, the schoolmen
acted. On their foolish premises they often argued with great ability;
and as their object was "assensum subjugare, non res" (Nov. Org. I.
Aph. 29), to be victorious in controversy, not to be victorious over
nature, they were consistent. For just as much logical skill could be
shown in reasoning on false as on true premises."[44] Of course, if
any genuine metaphysical philosophy exists at all, its right and real
object must be to try and discover true premises of the more abstract
sort--premises, the truth of which affects the procedure of all the
ancillary series.[45]
Our next quotation contains Hume's sentence of execution rather than
critique upon metaphysics as he saw them in connection with dogmatic
theology. First, for his fiery anathema:--
"When we run over libraries, persuaded of these principles, what havoc
must we make? If we take in our hand any volume of divinity or School
metaphysics, for instance, let us ask, _Does it contain any abstract
reasoning concerning quantity or number?_ No. _Does it contain any
experimental reasoning concerning matters of fact and existence?_ No.
Commit it then to the flames: For it can contain nothing but sophistry
and illusion." (Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, § XII.) Alas
for certain of Hume's own speculations!
The student of Positivism knows how this fierce invective was echoed
and re-echoed by Comte and his followers. They, however, omitted the
qualifying word "School," which Hume prefixed to metaphysics. With
Comte, metaphysic of every kind was "anathema maranatha"; and even
psychology got excommunicated, by way of making "a clean sweep."
Hume, on the contrary, had an idea of what philosophy ought to be, and
thus outlined his preparation for a Metaphysic of the Future:--
"The only method of freeing learning, at once, from these abstruse
questions, is to inquire seriously into the nature of human
understanding, and show, from an exact analysis of its powers and
capacity, that it is by no means fitted for such remote and abstruse
subjects. We must submit to this fatigue in order to live at ease ever
after: and must cultivate true metaphysics with some care, in order to
destroy the false and adulterate. Indolence, which, to some persons,
affords a safeguard against this deceitful philosophy, is, with others,
overbalanced by curiosity; and despair, which at some moments prevails,
may give place afterwards to sanguine hopes and expectations. Accurate
and just reasoning is the only catholic remedy, fitted for all persons
and all dispositions; and is alone able to subvert that abstruse
philosophy and metaphysical jargon, which, being mixed up with
popular superstition, renders it in a manner impenetrable to careless
reasoners, and gives it the air of science and wisdom.
"Besides this advantage of rejecting, after deliberate inquiry, the
most uncertain and disagreeable part of learning, there are many
positive advantages, which result from an accurate scrutiny into the
powers and faculties of human nature. It is remarkable concerning
the operations of the mind, that though most intimately present to
us, yet, whenever they become the object of reflection, they seem
involved in obscurity; nor can the eye readily find those lines and
boundaries which discriminate and distinguish them. The objects are
too fine to remain long in the same aspect or situation, and must be
apprehended, in an instant, by a superior penetration, derived from
nature, and improved by habit and reflection. It becomes, therefore, no
inconsiderable part of science barely to know the different operations
of the mind, to separate them from each other, to class them under
their proper heads, and to correct all that seeming disorder in which
they lie involved, when made the object of reflection and inquiry.
This task of ordering and distinguishing, which has no merit when
performed with regard to external bodies, the objects of our senses,
rises in its value when directed towards the operations of the mind,
in proportion to the difficulty and labour which we meet with in
performing it. And if we can go no farther than this mental geography,
or delineation of the distinct parts and powers of the mind, it is at
least a satisfaction to go so far; and the more obvious this science
may appear (and it is by no means obvious), the more contemptible still
must the ignorance of it be esteemed, in all pretenders to learning and
philosophy." Ibid. Section I.
It seems worth while to consider what the effects might have been, had
Hume been faithful to his own idea.[46] In the first place he would
have remedied the weakness pointed out by Macaulay in the premises of
the schoolmen, which were in fact little better than sententious maxims
often derived from mistranslated passages of Scripture, one-sided
opinions of the Fathers, and other sources of doubtful value. These,
Hume would have abscided altogether, and rested his "true metaphysics"
upon such principles as survived a searching inquiry into the
conditions of Human knowledge. Hence, secondly, he would have rendered
a great service to Divinity itself, which can never be benefited
by such arguments as have been described, but must look for a safe
alliance to a synthesis of Faith and Reason. And in the third place he
might have probably given to his country a critical Philosophy adapted
to English modes of Thought. Kant's mind was fired by a spark of
Hume's kindling, but when we think what might have been the shape and
acceptance of Kant in this country had Hume heralded him by a critique
of Reason, it is impossible to read the great Scotchman's writings
without a feeling of disappointment.[47]
It would however be unjust to omit the fact that Hume did really
entertain a serious intention of dealing with these difficult
questions. Thus much is expressed in his earliest work, and we may
conjecture that literary disappointment was at least one cause of that
later preference for "easy philosophy" which contrasts so strongly with
the programme of his treatise on Human Nature. Few programmes were ever
more vigorously outlined, than the ensuing.
"From hence," he says, "in my opinion, arises that common prejudice
against metaphysical reasonings of all kinds, even amongst those
who profess themselves scholars, and have a just value for every
other part of literature. By metaphysical reasonings, they do not
understand those on any particular branch of science, but every kind of
argument, which is any way abstruse, and requires some attention to be
comprehended. We have so often lost our labour in such researches, that
we commonly reject them without hesitation, and resolve, if we must for
ever be a prey to errors and delusions, that they shall at least be
natural and entertaining. And, indeed, nothing but the most determined
scepticism, along with a great degree of indolence, can justify this
aversion to metaphysics. For, if truth be at all within the reach
of human capacity, 'tis certain it must lie very deep and abstruse;
and to hope we shall arrive at it without pains, while the greatest
geniuses have failed with the utmost pains, must certainly be esteemed
sufficiently vain and presumptuous. I pretend to no such advantage
in the philosophy I am going to unfold, and would esteem it a strong
presumption against it, were it so very easy and obvious."--Treatise on
Human Nature, Introduction, p. 12.
In these sentences Hume has sufficiently condemned the vulgar
objections brought against abstract reasoning. Deep and difficult
questions can be discussed in no other manner; and what is often called
a popular treatise on some subject of philosophic inquiry can never
be more than a statement of its writer's opinions, or possibly of his
sentimental prejudices.
The next paragraph contains Hume's earliest[48] sketch of that critical
inquiry into Human Nature on which he proposed to base all future
philosophy. It is of course deeply interesting.
"'Tis evident that all the sciences have a relation, greater or
less, to human nature; and that however wide any of them may seem to
run from it, they still return back by one passage or another. Even
_Mathematics_, _Natural Philosophy_, and _Natural Religion_, are in
some measure dependent on the science of MAN; since they lie
under the cognizance of men, and are judged of by their powers and
faculties.
"'Tis impossible to tell what changes and improvements we might make in
these sciences were we thoroughly acquainted with the extent and force
of human understanding, and could explain the nature of the ideas we
employ, and of the operations we perform in our reasonings. And these
improvements are the more to be hoped for in natural religion, as it
is not content with instructing us in the nature of superior powers,
but carries its views further, to their disposition towards us, and our
duties towards them; and consequently we ourselves are not only the
beings that reason, but also one of the objects concerning which we
reason."
"If, therefore, the sciences of mathematics, natural philosophy, and
natural religion, have such a dependence on the knowledge of man,
what may be expected in the other sciences, whose connection with
human nature is more close and intimate?... In these four sciences of
_Logic_, _Morals_, _Criticism_, and _Politics_, is comprehended almost
everything which it can any way import us to be acquainted with, or
which can tend either to the improvement or ornament of the human mind.
"Here then is the only expedient, from which we can hope for success in
our philosophical researches, to leave the tedious lingering method,
which we have hitherto followed, and instead of taking now and then a
castle or village on the frontier, to march up directly to the capital
or centre of these sciences, to human nature itself; which being once
masters of, we may everywhere else hope for an easy victory. From this
station we may extend our conquests over all those sciences which more
intimately concern human life, and may afterwards proceed at leisure
to discover more fully those which are the objects of pure curiosity.
There is no question of importance, whose decision is not comprised
in the science of man; and there is none, which can be decided with
any certainty, before we become acquainted with that science. In
pretending, therefore, to explain the principles of human nature, we in
effect propose a complete system of the sciences, built on a foundation
almost entirely new, and the only one upon which they can stand with
any security."[49] Ibid. pp. 13-14.
The present writer has a special interest in citing these passages,
because they do in fact defend as well as describe the procedure of his
very next chapter.
Such then at an early age was Hume's keen-edged critical appreciation
of those intellectual conditions required for a Philosophy of the
Sciences, or as he calls it, the "true Metaphysics." In order to
supplement his clever and clear idea by a very practical delineation
of the metaphysical territory, we turn to another great thinker, the
founder of our modern natural science, the great Lord Verulam.[50]
Bacon divides Philosophy according to its objects, which are
three,--God, Nature, Man. Take, then, Natural Philosophy; it is well
said that the truth of nature lies deeply hidden, and it is also well
said that the Producer imitates Nature. Natural Philosophy divides
itself accordingly into the inquisition of causes and the production
of effects; it is both speculative and operative. There is indeed
an intercourse between causes and effects, and both these kinds of
knowledge. All true and fruitful Natural Philosophy has a double scale
or ladder,--ascendent and descendent; ascending from experiment to
first causes; descending thence to fresh experiment and always fresh
productiveness.[51]
The ascending half is divided into two moieties, of which one is the
science of Physics, the other of Metaphysics. In distinguishing these
two, Bacon so far agrees with antiquity as to say,--"That Physic
supposes in nature only a being and moving and natural necessity;
whereas Metaphysic supposes also a Mind and Idea. For that which I
shall say comes perhaps to this."[52] Or, to put it in another light,
he writes elsewhere:--"Physique, taking it according to the derivation,
and not according to our idiom for medicine, is situate in a middle
term or distance between natural history and Metaphysique. For natural
history describeth the variety of things; Physique, the causes, but
variable or respective causes; and Metaphysique, the fixed and constant
causes."[53]
In order to clear the way for _his_ Metaphysic of the future, Bacon
subjects what had been called by that name to a critical process. He
separates from it a kind of theoretical philosophy, the attainment
of which he considered doubtful, though he desired that it should be
attempted, as the ultimate goal of human wisdom. The object of the
separation is, therefore, to leave his metaphysical science within the
limits of what is certainly attainable,--a fact not to be lost sight of
in its relation to the abstract subjects in which we are now specially
interested. The separated realm of knowledge Bacon calls "First and
Summary Philosophy"; it is a "common ancestor to all knowledge,"[54]
whereas Metaphysic belongs to the philosophy of Nature. It is at the
apex of his pyramid of knowledges,[55]--the basis being a collection of
natural facts--the "stage next the basis," (an investigation of causes
variable and immersed in material existence,) is called "Physique--the
stage next the vertical point is Metaphysique."[56] To enter clearly
into Bacon's meaning, two questions should be answered: one, what was
the wisdom that older Metaphysicians pursued, respecting which he did
not himself feel sanguine? and the other, what remained in his thought
the province of practical Metaphysique?
It is obvious that a wisdom which shall gather up all that every other
realm of wisdom produces, cast it into Thought's winepress, and extract
the rarest vintage of Truth, has been the vision of every age since men
began to inquire and to reason. If this wisdom were possible, it would
become to us an alphabet of the Universe; we should obtain a clear
insight into the world as it is, and the foregone work of its Creator.
Each of us might truthfully say:--
"Der du die Welt umschweifst,
Geschäftiger Geist, wie nah' fühl ich mich dir!"
It needs but a glance at Bacon's indefinite outline of a First and
Summary Philosophy,[57] to see that it must always be greeted by two
opposite sentences of condemnation. A large section of its censors
will pronounce the meagreness of its contents "a gentle riddance,"
or perhaps describe the contents themselves still more harshly as
"rubbish shot here." Another section may compare all that it leaves
for Metaphysics to the year without its spring, or Shakespeare's
masterpiece of philosophy with the part of Hamlet left out.
Let us see then how the reserved province was parcelled out.--Bacon
himself remarks:--"It may fairly therefore now be asked, what is left
remaining for Metaphysic? Certainly nothing beyond nature; but of
nature itself much the most excellent part." Most excellent because
"Physic handles that which is most inherent in matter and therefore
transitory, and Metaphysic that which is more abstracted and fixed.
And again, that Physic supposes in nature only a being and moving
and natural necessity: whereas Metaphysic supposes also a mind and
idea."[58]
This search into the Mind of Nature is divided into the investigation
of _two_ kinds of causes, still called the Formal and the Final.
Bacon's doctrine of Forms--the Philosophy in which is embraced "Natura
naturans"--nature engendering nature--the Queen of Art--and the Regent
of Production, constitutes one of the most difficult parts of the
Novum Organum, the Advancement, and the De Augmentis; and may have
been one chief provocative to King James' irreverent similitude. It
might, according to some writers, even now prove a veritable "peace
of God" could we only grasp its full meaning. "From the discovery
of Forms," says Bacon, "results truth in speculation and freedom in
operation."[59] And his latest commentator believes that this field of
discovery has not been truly explored, because its very idea has been
only imperfectly apprehended. The whole question, however, belongs to
a future Chapter of this Essay, where we propose examining the Law of
Production in its most refined and abstract shape. Yet one further
remark may be allowed here. According to Francis Bacon, one "respect
which ennobles this part of Metaphysic, is that it enfranchises the
power of men to the greatest liberty, and leads it to the widest and
most extensive field of operation.... For physical causes give light
and direction to new inventions in similar matter. But whosoever knows
any Form, knows also the utmost possibility of superinducing that
nature upon every variety of matter, and so is less restrained and tied
in operation, either to the basis of the matter or to the condition of
the efficient."[60]
We are more concerned, at the present stage of this Essay, with
the _second_ portion of Bacon's Metaphysique--the Inquiry into
Final Causes. They are described in the Advancement as not having
been neglected before its great Author's time, but as having been
"misplaced." "For they are," he writes in the De Augm. (E. & S. iv.
p. 363) "generally sought for in Physic, and not in Metaphysic. And
yet if it were but a fault in order I should not think so much of it;
for order is matter of illustration, but pertains not to the substance
of sciences. But this misplacing has caused a notable deficience, and
been a great misfortune to Philosophy. For the handling of final causes
in Physics has driven away and overthrown the diligent inquiry of
physical causes."... "And I say this, not because those final causes
are not true and worthy to be inquired in metaphysical speculations;
but because their excursions and irruptions into the limits of physical
causes has bred a waste and solitude in that track. For otherwise, if
they be but kept within their proper bounds, men are extremely deceived
if they think there is any enmity or repugnancy at all between the
two." (Ibid. p. 364.) Bacon's meaning is indeed clear enough to those
who consider his examples. We do not learn how clouds are produced by
being told they serve for watering the earth. It is no history of our
earth itself, to say that its "solidness is for the station and mansion
of living creatures." "To know the actual nature of a thing," observes
an Oxford commentator on the Organum, "we must investigate it in and
for itself, not for its results."[61]
Perhaps one of the most curious facts relating to the "misplacement"
of Final Causes is that few more flagrant instances of that abuse can
be found than some which occur in the field, not of physical but of
moral science. The following remarkable example is from an argument
framed by Mr. James Mill against Sir J. Macintosh, which appears all
the more worthy of quotation, because it is reproduced and approved by
Mr. J. Stuart Mill. The whole argument deserves perusal as showing how
easily an acquired and customary kind of association will sometimes
predominate over free thought; but for our present object a few
passages will suffice. The italics are not Mr. Mill's, but are here
marked for the purpose of guiding the reader's eye to those steps
which lead from _final cause_ (or motive) to _interest_, from interest
to Utility in its grossest form, the artificial creation, namely,
of our spur to interested action, dignified by this author with the
sacred name of Morality, both in essence, _i.e._, what makes an act
to be moral--and in respect of our moral sense, _i.e._, what are the
sentiments with which we regard our own actions and those of other
persons.
"Men make classifications, as they do everything else, for some end.
Now, for what _end_ was it that men, out of their innumerable acts,
selected a class, to which they gave the name of moral, and another
class, to which they gave the name of immoral? What was the motive of
this act? What its final cause?
"Assuredly the answer to this question is the first step, though
Sir James saw it not, towards the solution of his two questions,
comprehending the _whole_ of ethical science; first, what _makes_ an
act to be _moral?_ and, secondly, what are the _sentiments_ with which
we _regard_ it?
"We may also be assured, that it was some very obvious _interest_ which
recommended this classification; for it was performed, in a certain
rough way, in the _very rudest_ states of society.
"Farther, we may easily see how, even in very rude states, men were led
to it, by little less than necessity.... They had no stronger interest
than to obtain the repetition of the one sort, and to prevent the
repetition of the other.... And here we clearly perceive the origin of
that important case of classification, the classification of acts as
_moral_ and _immoral_. The acts, which it was _important_ to other men
that each individual should _perform_, but in which the individual had
not a sufficient _interest_ to secure the performance of them, were
constituted one class. The acts, which it was _important_ to other men
that each individual should _abstain from_, but in regard to which
he had not a personal _interest_ sufficiently strong to secure his
abstaining from them, were constituted another class. The first class
were distinguished by the name _moral_ acts; the second by the name
_immoral_.
"The _interest_ which men had in securing the performance of the one
set of acts, the non-performance of the other, led them by a sort of
necessity to think of the _means_. They had to _create_ an interest,
which the actor would not otherwise have, in the performance of the
one sort, the non-performance of the other. And in proceeding to
this end, they could not easily miss their way. They had two powers
applicable to the purpose. They had a certain quantity of good at
their disposal, and they had a certain quantity of evil.... And this
is the scheme which they adopted; and which, in every situation, they
have invariably pursued. _The whole business of the moral sentiments_,
moral approbation, and disapprobation, has this for its _object_,--the
distribution of the good and evil we have at command, for the
_production_ of acts of the _useful_ sort, the _prevention_ of acts of
the _contrary_ sort. Can there be a nobler _object_?"[62]
Some people may think that all nobleness is here taken away from moral
distinctions. Others may wonder how such refined calculation could
take place "in the very rudest states of Society." Many more will feel
that _this_ factitious interest is _not_ the moral sentiment of which
they are themselves conscious. We defer these points, however, to a
future chapter, and are satisfied now with calling attention to the
"misplacement" of final causes. To any modern versed (as Bacon was)
in the wisdom of the mediæval schools, the following parallel might
appear complete. Ask two questions--what are clouds?--what are moral
distinctions?--let a "why" be substituted for the "what." Both are
classified by men, both may be defined by their subserviency to _human
interests_,--it is sufficient to discover some use in each. Moral
distinctions exist for the benefit of society, clouds are for watering
the earth. An earth-watering contrivance describes not only one use but
the whole nature of a cloud; and for morality can a nobler definition
be found than that of a notion invented and named on Utilitarian
principles and promoting a public interest?[63] Doubtless morality
does benefit mankind--doubtless clouds do water the earth. But in
either case is the good effect its full and comprehensive "why?"--to
say nothing of the desiderated "what?"
Francis Bacon (as we have seen) strongly affirmed that between Physical
Causes and Final Causes "kept within their proper bounds, men are
extremely deceived if they think there is any enmity or repugnancy
at all." The manner in which, according to the Baconian doctrine,
these two sets of causes harmonize and supplement each other, so as
conjointly to subserve the highest purpose of Natural Theology, cannot
be better explained than in the words of Bacon's late lamented Editor,
Mr. R. Leslie Ellis:--
"It is not sufficiently remarked that final causes have often been
spoken of without any reference to a benevolent intention. When it is
said that the final cause of a stone's falling is 'locus deorsum,'
the remark is at least but remotely connected with the doctrine of an
intelligent providence. We are to remember that Bacon has expressly
censured Aristotle for having made use of final causes without
referring to the fountain from which they flow, namely the providence
of the Creator. And in this censure he has found many to concur.
"Again, in any case in which the benevolent intention can be perceived,
we are at liberty to ask by what means and according to what laws
this benevolent intention is manifested and made efficient. If this
question is not to be asked, there is in the first place an end of
physical science, so far as relates to every case in which a benevolent
intention has been or can be recognised; and in the second, the
argument à posteriori founded on the contrivance displayed in the works
of creation is entirely taken away.
"This is, in effect, what Bacon says in the passage of the _De
Augmentis_, in which he complains of the abuse of final causes. If,
he affirms, the physical cause of any phenomenon can be assigned as
well as the final, so far is this from derogating from our idea of
the divine wisdom, that on the contrary it does but confirm and exalt
it."[64]
Before passing from this subject the reader's attention may be drawn
to two notes by the same eminent commentator. Bacon remarks (Nov.
Org. I. 48) that Final Causes are "ex naturâ hominis" _i.e._, have
relation to the nature of Man. "It is difficult," writes Mr. Ellis, "to
assent to the assertion that the notion of the final cause, considered
generally, is more ex naturâ hominis than that of the efficient. The
subject is one of which it is difficult to speak accurately; but it may
be said that wherever we think that we recognise a tendency towards a
fulfilment or realisation of an idea, there the notion of the final
cause comes in. It can only be from inadvertence that Professor Owen
has set the doctrine of the final cause as it were in antithesis to
that of the unity of type: by the former he means the doctrine that the
suitability of an animal to its mode of life is the one thing aimed
at or intended in its structure. It cannot be doubted that Aristotle
would have recognised the preservation of the type as not less truly a
final cause than the preservation of the species or than the well-being
of the individual. The final cause connects itself with what in the
language of modern German philosophy is expressed by the phrase 'the
Idea in Nature.'"[65]
The epigrammatic comparison of a Final Cause to a consecrated
Virgin[66] has been reviewed by numberless disciples as well as critics
of our author. Mr. Ellis annotates the Latin text thus:--"_Nihil
parit_, means simply, _non parit opera_, which though it would have
been a more precise mode of expression would have destroyed the
appositeness of the illustration. No one who fairly considers the
context can, I think, have any doubts as to the limitation with
which the sentence in question is to be taken. But it is often the
misfortune of a pointed saying to be quoted apart from any context, and
consequently to be misunderstood." And this seems to be a scholarly
explanation.[67]
To complete the sketch of Baconian Metaphysic it appears only needful
to add that his respect for the science of Quantity is sufficient to
make him class under this higher philosophy--this near approach to the
apex of his Pyramid--the whole circle of Mathematics.
Our long note will not have been written in vain if the reader bears
its contents in mind when considering the abstract arguments advanced
throughout this Essay. It is well to see what very great authorities
have thought concerning the true use of Metaphysics;--it is well also
to see how they ought to be applied in questions of physical science,
and for the purpose of grounding a science of Natural Theology.
B.--ON THE PHRASE "DESIGN IMPLIES A DESIGNER."
"It has been contended," says Professor Baden Powell, "that in one
sense it is mere tautology to say that Design implies a Designer."
(Connexion of Natural and Divine Truth, p. 183.)
As a matter of fact there can be no doubt that verbal-sounding
phrases, however useful in a system of Mnemonics, and much in favour
as political war-cries, always tend to discredit the sober course of
a philosophic argument. But Paley, though writing popularly, did not
intend a mere _ad captandum_ effect, as may be seen by a reference
to his second chapter. He meant by Design and Contrivance to express
in brief the conditions he had laid down as _characteristic_ of the
intentional adaptation of means to definitely purposed ends,--with
which conditions he appears to have been fully satisfied.
In his 23rd and 24th chapters, where some hasty writer might have said
"law implies a lawgiver," the Archdeacon prefers to state that "a law
pre-supposes an agent," and proceeds to argue the statement on its
merits. "Law," he says, "is only the mode according to which an agent
proceeds: it implies a power, for it is the order according to which
that power acts. Without this agent, without this power, which are both
distinct from itself, the 'law' does nothing; is nothing." (Chapter
23.) He is well satisfied with this argument also, and repeats it
(slightly varied in form) during the course of his next chapter.
In our comparison of Powell with Paley we were led to remark on the
diverse meanings of the word Design, and the facility with which some
authors have glided from one to another among its significations. If
any thinker believes that the examples he adduces are _distinctly_
instances of Foresight, Intention, and Will, he has the Designer full
in mind before he employs the term Design. But if his instances fall
short of thus much _implicit_ force, the argument founded on them is a
worthless verbality.[68]
Those who protest against the popular phrase, "Design proves a
Designer," say it is a temptation to assume this point--(the one point
at issue)--over which it skims with such secure ease. But to any person
in earnest, few things are more irritating than a piece of cool,
thorough-going assumption. It is like catching a cat and persistently
calling it a hare. Many visitors at certain Roman Hotels are aware
that when deprived of ears and tail _more Italico_ and well roasted,
the resemblance between these two animals may give rise to questions
of disputed identity. Imagine, now, a party of cat-catchers, who not
only assume the Identity, but persevere in calling their mongrel curs
harehounds, and themselves huntsmen. No truer claim in reality do
a multitude of Design-hunters possess to any higher title than the
_leguleii_ of Natural Theology. And the blame of their discredit must
in a great degree be laid upon their words. It is easy to say, "A
thrown-stone implies a thrower." But suppose the stone about which you
and I are talking was thrown by the fiery force of a volcano? Must we
hence infer the existence of a Cyclops or a Titan?
This mode of popular speech reached the climax of absurdity when it was
gravely argued that "Evolution implies an Evolver." So it might appear
to the peculiar mind of the speaker; but how about the mind of him who
promulgated the evolution-hypothesis? Stones (as we may observe) fly
from more than one cause, and there is more than one account to be
given of the theory of Evolution.
Enough has been said to show that the phrase commented on in this
note, prejudices the argument it is intended to assist. It wears the
appearance of embodying a foregone conclusion; and gives trouble to the
honest inquirer, who, in order to estimate reasonings at their true
value, must translate them into accurate forms of speech.
We may aptly finish these remarks by a quotation from Whewell's
Aphorisms on the Language of Science. (Aphorism I., Philosophy of the
Inductive Sciences, II. 483.) "Words borrowed from common language,
and converted by scientific writers into technical terms, have some
advantages and some disadvantages. They possess this great convenience,
that they are understood after a very short explanation, and retained
in the memory without effort. On the other hand they lead to some
inconvenience; for since they have a meaning in common language, a
careless reader is prone to disregard the technical limitation of this
meaning, and to attempt to collect their import in scientific books, in
the same vague and conjectural manner in which he collects the purpose
of words in common cases. Hence the language of science, when thus
resembling common language, is liable to be employed with an absence of
that scientific precision which alone gives it value. Popular writers
and talkers, when they speak of _force_, _momentum_, _action_, _and
reaction_, and the like, often afford examples of the inaccuracy thus
arising from the scientific appropriation of common terms."
A similar line of reflection led Coleridge to remark (Biog. Lit.,
Chap. x.) that "the language of the market would be in the schools as
_pedantic_, though it might not be reprobated by that name, as the
language of the schools in the market. The mere man of the world, who
insists that no other terms but such as occur in common conversation
should be employed in a scientific disquisition, and with no greater
precision, is as truly a _pedant_ as the man of letters, who, either
over-rating the acquirements of his auditors, or misled by his own
familiarity with technical or scholastic terms, converses at the
wine-table with his mind fixed on his museum or laboratory." And such
pedantry is, we may add, not uncommonly just as perspicuous as the
definition which, says old Glanvill, "was lately given of a _Thought_
in a _University Sermon_--viz. _A Repentine Prosiliency jumping into
Being_." (_Defence of the Vanity of Dogmatizing_, Actio Decima, p. 61,
ed. 1.)
C.--HUME ON THE ANALOGIES OF ART AND NATURE.
[_Referred to in footnote (e) in the preceding Chapter._]
The statement in the text is shaped as a not unfairly urged scientific
objection of the kind which might be raised by some actual craftsman
or producer. An objection identical in essence is thrown by Hume into
a refined semi-metaphysical shape, and made to turn upon our general
acquaintance with Human nature contrasted with our general ignorance of
the Divine. It runs as follows:--
"The infinite difference of the subjects, replied he," (Hume's dramatic
Epicurus,) "is a sufficient foundation for this difference in my
conclusions. In works of _human_ art and contrivance, it is allowable
to advance from the effect to the cause, and returning back from the
cause, to form new inferences concerning the effect, and examine the
alterations which it has probably undergone, or may still undergo. But
what is the foundation of this method of reasoning? Plainly this; that
man is a being, whom we know by experience, whose motives and designs
we are acquainted with, and whose projects and inclinations have a
certain connection and coherence, according to the laws which nature
has established for the government of such a creature. When, therefore,
we find that any work has proceeded from the skill and industry of man;
as we are otherwise acquainted with the nature of the animal, we can
draw a hundred inferences concerning what may be expected from him; and
these inferences will all be founded in experience and observation.
But did we know man only from the single work or production which we
examine, it were impossible for us to argue in this manner; because our
knowledge of all the qualities, which we ascribe to him, being in that
case derived from the production, it is impossible they could point to
anything farther, or be the foundation of any new inference....
"The case is not the same with our reasonings from the works of nature.
The Deity is known to us only by his productions, and is a single
being in the universe, not comprehended under any species or genus,
from whose experienced attributes or qualities, we can, by analogy,
infer any attribute or quality in him." (Enquiry concerning Human
Understanding. Section xi.)
Hume himself gives in his own character a reply partially veiled by the
same half-metaphysical style which characterises the objection:--
"There occurs to me (continued I), with regard to your main topic, a
difficulty which I shall just propose to you without insisting on it,
lest it lead into reasonings of too nice and delicate a nature. In a
word, I much doubt whether it be possible for a cause to be known only
by its effect (as you have all along supposed), or to be of so singular
and particular a nature, as to have no parallel and no similarity with
any other cause or object that has ever fallen under our observation.
It is only when two _species_ of objects are found to be constantly
conjoined, that we can infer the one from the other: and were an effect
presented which was entirely singular, and could not be comprehended
under any known _species_, I do not see, that we could form any
conjecture or inference at all concerning its cause. If experience
and observation and analogy be, indeed, the only guides which we can
reasonably follow in inferences of this nature; both the effect and
cause must bear a similarity and resemblance to other effects and
causes which we know, and which we have found, in many instances, to be
conjoined with each other. I leave it to your own reflection to pursue
the consequences of this principle." (Ibid.)
The consequences which ought in fairness to be deduced may be stated
thus. The effect we contemplate, (_i.e._ Nature,) is _not_ singular
but can be compared with other effects--those of Art. The comparison
is made in respect of certain specific attributes or properties upon
which the Design analogy turns, so that we may reason upwards to
certain specific analogies of Causation. Art manifests the foreseeing
attributes of the human artist, and from comparison of these we
infer in the Creator like attributes,--what Hume elsewhere calls the
_natural_ attributes of the Deity. But this likeness is properly termed
_analogical_, because of the vast difference in the magnitude of the
effects _from_ which we thus reason, and of the causes _to_ which we
reason. As our wisdom and power are proportionable to our earthly
works, so are the Divine wisdom and power proportionable to the whole
majestic Universe. There is, then, a comparison in _species_, but not
in grandeur--the attributes are not _similar_, but _analogical_. As the
Heavens are high above the Earth, so are His thoughts higher than our
thoughts.
D.--THE PANTHEISTIC CONSEQUENCES CHARGED UPON PHYSICAL SPECULATIONS.
The following is the passage from Professor Baden Powell referred to in
note (_h_) of the preceding chapter. Some short extracts were also made
from it on a previous page.
"Nothing but the common confused and mistaken notions as to laws and
causes, could give any colour to the assertion that ... physical
speculations tend to substitute general physical laws in the place of
the Deity; and that scientific statements of the conclusions of Natural
Theology are nothing but ill-disguised Pantheism.
"The utter futility of such inferences is at once seen, when the
smallest attention is given to the plain distinctions above laid down
between 'moral' and 'physical' causation; and to the proper force of
the conclusions from natural science establishing the former by means
of the latter.
"This distinction obviously points to the _very reverse_ of the
assertion that physical action is identical with its moral cause; the
essential difference and contrast between them is the very point which
the whole argument upholds and enforces.
"Of all forms of philosophical mysticism, the idea of Pantheism seems
to me one of the most extravagant. Ever-present _mind_ is a direct
inference from the universal order of nature, or rather only another
mode of expressing it. But of the _mode_ of existence of that mind we
can infer nothing.
"To assert, then, that this universally manifested mind is
_co-existent_, or even to be _identified_, with _matter_, is at best
a mere gratuitous hypothesis, and as such wholly unphilosophical in
itself, and leading to many preposterous consequences. But if further
supposed to apply in any higher sense as to an object of worship,
trust, love, obedience, or the like (as is implied in the term
Pan_theism_), it appears to involve moral contradictions of the most
startling kind.
"There are, however, many who, though rejecting Pantheism as _untrue_,
do not conceive it _absurd_ or _contradictory_. Much, however, will,
in all such cases, depend on the precise _sense_ in which it is
maintained. With some it seems to have been upheld on a fanciful
analogy with the conception of the human frame animated by an
indwelling spirit; as if in a somewhat similar manner the supreme mind
might animate nature. Without disputing this in a certain sense, the
cases surely cannot be considered at all parallel: we do not infer the
existence of the human mind, from the arrangement and adaptation of the
bodily organs, nor is it the moral cause of their organisation.
"If Pantheism were asserted merely in the sense of a kind of vital or
animating principle pervading the material world, I would admit that
such an idea involves _no absurdity_, or _contradiction_, but still I
should regard it as visionary and unphilosophical. I could but class
it with the 'vital forces' which Kepler fancied necessary for keeping
up the motions of the planets, with the 'plastic powers of nature,'
'her abhorrence of a vacuum,' and the like chimæras. But it is when men
elevate such a supposed animating principle into a _Deity_, a being
of supreme wisdom, power, beneficence, and goodness, yet residing in
every atom of matter, and _participating directly_ in every form and
case of material action, that the contradiction arises." _Spirit of the
Inductive Philosophy_, pp. 176-9.
E.--THE EXTENT AND DIVISIONS OF THE SCIENCE OF NATURAL THEOLOGY.
The following passages from Professor Powell's Essay "on the Spirit
of the Inductive Philosophy" will go far to justify the praise and
blame bestowed upon his mode of procedure in the text of the foregoing
chapter. But we would recommend his own pages to the student's
discriminative perusal.
In extract No. 1, Baden Powell shows with equal truth and force that
universal Law must be contemplated as a manifestation of one supreme
Intelligence presiding over the whole Universe. A philosopher who looks
on Nature with this majestic breadth of view does not need for his own
deepest convictions to follow Design through a multitude of smaller
evidences.
If extract No. 2 could be admitted as a _full_ account of the
conditions and limitations of Natural Theology, our science would seem
to result in an obscuration of the magnificently Supreme Power already
accepted. So far as its _letter_ goes, the Creator of the Universe
might appear to be shut out from the world which He has made. We cannot
(as has been said) consent to this narrow consideration of Natural
Theology, nor yet of Powell's meaning.
Extract No. 3 acknowledges what all physical investigators ought to
acknowledge,--that although their sciences contribute very much towards
solving the problem of the Universe, and although their results readily
harmonize with the solution maintained by the Theist--yet there rests
over that vast problem a cloud which the physical sciences cannot
completely dispel. This (as we shall see in Chapter V.) is indeed the
confession of the greatest minds at present engaged upon the philosophy
of Natural Science.
_Extract_ No. 1.--"From the inductive philosophy we derive our belief
in the harmony, order, and uniformity of natural causes, perpetually
maintained in a universally connected chain of dependence. And hence it
is, that we arrive at those sublime ideas of a presiding Intelligence
of which _law_ and _uniformity_, universal mechanism once for all
adjusted, are the proper _external manifestations_.
"To the truly inductive philosopher, _fate_ and _chance_, _necessity_
and _accident_, are words without meaning. To him, the world is made
up of recondite combinations of physical laws, and the existence and
maintenance of those laws are the very indication of a Supreme Mind.
But chance is irreconcilable with laws, fate with mind, regulated and
fixed order with blind destiny, fortuitous accident, or arbitrary
interruption.
"All rational natural theology advances by tracing the immediate
mechanical steps and particular processes in detail, and the physical
causes in which the influences of the Great Moral Cause or Supreme Mind
are manifested. The greater the number and extent of such secondary
steps and intermediate processes through which we can trace it, the
greater the complexity and wider the ramifications of the chain of
causes, the more powerful and convincing the instruction they convey as
to the existence and operation of the Divine wisdom and power.
"Yet it is a common mode of illustration to speak of the _chain_ of
secondary causes reaching up to the First Cause. Or, again, fears are
entertained of tracing secondary causes too far, so as to intrench on
the supremacy of the First Cause. But this is an erroneous analogy: the
maker or designer of a chain is no more at one end of it than at the
other. The length of the chain in no way alters our conviction of its
skilful structure, except to enhance it. If the number of links were
truly _infinite_, so much the more infinite the skill of its framer.
"Mr. F. Newman observes,[69] I think most truly, that the _common_
arguments from what are called 'secondary causes' to the 'First Cause'
are unsatisfactory: and I would trace this to the confused sense in
which those terms are commonly used, as already explained; and which, I
think, might be entirely removed by attention to the distinctions above
laid down. While, on the other hand, I fully acknowledge that those
arguments, when correctly understood, lead only to a _very limited_
conclusion; and one which falls infinitely _short_ of those high moral
and spiritual intuitions on which Mr. F. Newman grounds his religious
system, yet in no way discredits or supersedes them." _Essay_, pp.
151-4.
_Extract_ No. 2.--"In the present state of knowledge, law and order,
physical causation and uniformity of action, are the elevated
manifestations of Divinity, creation and providence. Interruptions of
such order (if for a moment they could be admitted as such) could only
produce a sort of temporary concealment of such manifestations, and
involve the beautiful light shed over the natural world in a passing
cloud. We do not indeed _doubt_ that the sun exists behind the cloud,
but we certainly do not see it; still less can we call the obscuration
a special _proof_ of its presence. The main point in the system of
order and law is its absolute _universality_. Exceptions, if real, must
_pro tanto_ imply a deficiency in the chain of connexion, and might, to
a sceptical disposition, offer a ground of doubt.
"But so overwhelming is the mass and body of proof, that no philosophic
mind would allow such exceptions for a moment to weigh against
it; they would be as dust in the balance. A supreme moral cause
manifested through law, order, and physical causes, is the confession
of science: conflicting operations, arbitrary interruptions, abrupt
discontinuities, are the idols of ignorance, and, if they really
prevailed, would so far be to the philosopher only the exponents of
chaos and atheism; the obscuration (as far as they extend) of the
sensible manifestation of the Supreme Intelligence." _Ibid._ 165, 6.
_Extract_ No. 3.--"The whole tenor of the preceding argument is
directed to show that the inference and assertion of a _Supreme Moral
Cause_, distinct from and above nature, results immediately from the
recognition of the eternal and universal maintenance of the order of
_physical causes_, which are its essential _external manifestations_.
"Of the _mode of action or operation_ by which the Supreme Moral Cause
influences the universal order of physical causes, _we confess our
utter ignorance_. But the _evidence_ of such operation, where nature
exists, can never be lost or interrupted. And in proportion as our
more extended researches exhibit these indications more fully and more
gloriously displayed, we cannot but believe that our contemplations are
more nearly and truly approaching their SOURCE." _Ibid._ 179.
The reader will not grudge the time he may have bestowed upon this
note if it leads him to a distinct apprehension of the true breadth and
compass of our science.
"Natural Theology," says Kant, "infers the attributes and the existence
of an author of the world, from the constitution of, the order and
unity observable in this world, in which two modes of Causality,
together with their laws, must be accepted--that is to say, Nature
and Freedom. Thus Natural Theology rises from this world to a
supreme Intelligence, whether as to the principle of all natural or
of all moral order and perfection. In the former case it is termed
Physico-Theology, in the latter Ethical or Moral Theology." This last
term he explains by adding, "Not theological ethics; for this latter
science contains ethical laws, which _presuppose_ the existence of a
Supreme Governor of the world; while Moral Theology, on the contrary,
is an evidence of the existence of a Supreme Being, an evidence founded
upon ethical laws." _Kant's Kritik der reinen Vernunft Transscendental
Elementarlehre_, s. 7.
It was from the fulness and depth of a personal conviction on this
topic that the present writer ventured to assert in 1870 that "The
conditions under which Natural Theology becomes scientifically
possible, are found when it supplements Natural Science by a science of
Right and Wrong," and also that "for the future Natural Theology ought
to follow this path and no other--unless it wishes to commit suicide."
These assertions were made in a University Sermon[70] on the question,
"Under what Conditions is a Science of Natural Theology possible?" and
they were censured as novel and unprecedented by critics who ought to
have known better.
F.--ON TELEOLOGY.
One consequence of the principle on which this Essay has been framed
is an endeavour to place before the reader's eye different modes of
reasoning in the language of their several authors. The method of
looking at any subject-matter in a diversity of lights naturally leads
to copiousness of quotation. There can, it is evident, be no varieties
of thought so undeniably distinct as those which are the actual
products of diverse minds.
The maxim which has governed the following selection is what Bacon
would call a marshalling Idea. They posit one central thought and throw
light upon it from a circle of separate reflectors.
Let it be observed that such a collection of opinions implies no
appeal to authority in the narrow sense of the word. There is indeed a
manifest distinction between authority and authorities--and our present
appeal is to the latter. No man's _ipse dixit_ can dogmatically settle
questions which belong to an inquirer's responsible self; but it is
surely the wisdom of every one who acknowledges the awful sense of
accountability attendant on the determination of questions affecting
his central beliefs, to weigh the reasonings of others who have felt
the same deep impression of their paramount importance. If any one
is reluctant so to do from an idea that by doing thus much he pays a
wrongful deference to prejudices, he has in truth assumed the whole
issue which he is bound to examine. How otherwise can he certainly
allege that the prejudice is not inherent within himself?
Reluctance of this kind would on the present occasion be thoroughly
misplaced. Authorities as here quoted are neither more nor less than
the opinions of experts who have a title to be heard each in his own
proper department. Throughout the practical conduct of life we all
experience the benefit of laying aside our private spectacles from
time to time and of looking through the glasses of other men. And in
questions such as the one now before us, is it possible to do better
than try whether we can see for ourselves what has been pronounced
discernible by men who contemplated this world of ours with more than
ordinary powers of vision?
The present writer has a personal interest in bringing together the
reflections of many who have reached the same resting-place along
various lines of approach, and who have expressed their conclusions
with some diversity of language. He has ventured himself on viewing the
evidences of Natural Theology from a position by no means identical
with that most commonly occupied by Natural Theologians. The student,
therefore, who takes a wide survey of the field will be the critic best
prepared to examine the latter part of this Essay.
The first authority quoted among our ample citations is Hume, whose
appearance as a witness for Natural Theology may surprise some readers.
As, however, is remarked by an eminent writer in the _Quarterly_,
Hume's hard common sense "enabled him when he liked, to control the
excesses of a speculative imagination and subject it to practical
reason, as he understood reason's verdict." He even went so far as to
say that "The whole frame of Nature bespeaks an Intelligent Author;
and no rational inquirer can, after serious reflection, suspend his
belief a moment with regard to the primary principles of genuine Theism
and Religion." (_Natural History of Religion_, Introduction.) Indeed,
according to Cucheval Clarigny,[71] Hume was an "almost Christian" at
certain periods of his life. The repellant forces that kept him back,
are "not far to seek."
The following passages refer to the illative analogy which forms the
proper shape of the argument from Design.
"That the works of Nature bear a great analogy to the productions of
art, is evident; and according to all the rules of good reasoning,
we ought to infer, if we argue at all concerning them, that their
causes have a proportional analogy. But as there are also considerable
differences, we have reason to suppose a proportional difference
in the causes; and in particular ought to attribute a much higher
degree of power and energy to the supreme cause than any we have
ever observed in mankind. Here then the existence of a DEITY is
plainly ascertained by reason: and if we make it a question whether,
on account of these analogies, we can properly call him a _mind_
or _intelligence_, notwithstanding the vast difference which may
reasonably be supposed between him and human minds; what is this but
a mere verbal controversy? No man can deny the analogies between the
effects: To restrain ourselves from inquiring concerning the causes,
is scarcely possible: From this inquiry, the legitimate conclusion is,
that the causes have also an analogy: And if we are not contented with
calling the first and supreme cause a GOD or DEITY, but desire to vary
the expression; what can we call him but MIND or THOUGHT, to which he
is justly supposed to bear a considerable resemblance?" _Dialogues
concerning Natural Religion_, Part xii. in Essays, Vol. II. p. 526.[72]
"If the whole of Natural Theology, as some people seem to maintain,
resolves itself into one simple, though somewhat ambiguous, at least
undefined proposition, _That the cause or causes of order in the
universe probably bear some remote analogy to human intelligence_.
If this proposition be not capable of extension, variation, or more
particular explication; if it affords no inference that affects human
life, or can be the source of any action or forbearance; and if the
analogy, imperfect as it is, can be carried no farther than to the
human intelligence, and cannot be transferred, with any appearance of
probability, to the other qualities of the mind: If this really be the
case, what can the most inquisitive, contemplative, and religious man
do more than give a plain, philosophical assent to the proposition,
as often as it occurs; and believe that the arguments on which it is
established, exceed the objections which lie against it?" _Ibid._ p.
538.
The following is the opinion of Cleanthes, upon whom Hume confers the
palm in the dialogue;--"Take care, Philo, replied Cleanthes; take care;
push not matters too far: allow not your zeal against false religion to
undermine your veneration for the true. Forfeit not this principle, the
chief, the only great comfort in life; and our principal support amidst
all the attacks of adverse fortune. The most agreeable reflection,
which it is possible for human imagination to suggest, is that of
genuine Theism, which represents us as the workmanship of a Being
perfectly good, wise, and powerful; who created us for happiness; and
who, having implanted in us immeasurable desires of good, will prolong
our existence to all eternity, and will transfer us into an infinite
variety of scenes, in order to satisfy those desires, and render our
felicity complete and durable. Next to such a Being himself (if the
comparison be allowed), the happiest lot which we can imagine, is that
of being under his guardianship and protection." _Ibid._ p.535.[73]
The next three extracts give Hume's opinion on the prevailing principle
disclosed by the analogy--design, purpose, and the recognition of final
causes:--
"Though the stupidity of men, barbarous and uninstructed, be so great,
that they may not see a sovereign author in the more obvious works of
nature, to which they are so much familiarized; yet it scarce seems
possible, that any one of good understanding should reject that idea,
when once it is suggested to him. A purpose, an intention, a design is
evident in everything; and when our comprehension is so far enlarged
as to contemplate the first rise of this visible system, we must
adopt, with the strongest conviction, the idea of some intelligent
cause or author. The uniform maxims, too, which prevail throughout
the whole frame of the universe, naturally, if not necessarily, lead
us to conceive this intelligence as single and undivided, where the
prejudices of education oppose not so reasonable a theory. Even the
contrarieties of nature, by discovering themselves everywhere, become
proofs of some consistent plan, and establish one single purpose or
intention, however inexplicable and incomprehensible." _Natural History
of Religion_ XV.--General Corollary, in _Essays_ II. pp. 422, 3.
"In many views of the universe, and of its parts, particularly the
latter, the beauty and fitness of final causes strike us with such
irresistible force that all objections appear (what I believe they
really are) mere cavils and sophisms; nor can we then imagine how it
was ever possible for us to repose any weight on them." _Dialogues
concerning Natural Religion_, Part X. in _Essays_, II. 509.
"The order and arrangement of nature, the curious adjustment of final
causes, the plain use and intention of every part and organ; all these
bespeak in the clearest language an intelligent cause or author. The
heavens and the earth join in the same testimony. The whole chorus of
nature raises one hymn to the praises of its Creator.... I have found a
Deity; and here I stop my enquiry. Let those go farther who are wiser
or more enterprising." _Ibid._ Part IV. p. 467.
Hume is conspicuous amongst reasoners on Natural Theology for having
distinctly comprehended Human Nature along with Nature in the cycle
of its evidences. "This sentence at least," he writes, "Reason will
venture to pronounce, That a mental world, or universe of ideas,
requires a cause as much as does a material world, or universe of
objects; and, if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar
cause. For what is there in this subject which should occasion a
different conclusion or inference? In an abstract view, they are
entirely alike; and no difficulty attends the one supposition which is
not common to both of them." _Ibid._ Part IV. p. 464.
This statement brings us to the impediments which withheld Hume from
forming a sublime idea of the Divine Being, such an idea as kindles the
enthusiasm of devout men, and inspires even timidly sensitive souls
with deathless confidence in the final triumph of a self-sacrificing
virtue destined to survive the grave. These causes were the opinions he
maintained respecting human nature. We may lay it down as a universal
rule that every one who sees the animal, but not the heaven-aspiring
moral element in his own nature, and in our common nature, will fail
to represent to himself the lineaments or reflection of the Divine
attributes. An acknowledged kinship with brutal passions, the lowering
of society and wedlock to animal gregariousness, of moral principle
and the rule of Right and Wrong to a perception of Utility, are fatal
hindrances in the search after God;--a search arduous to the best
of us, since deep as the far translucent heavens, are the majestic
thoughts of Him after Whom we strive to feel. Now Hume failed to
discern the Godlike in Man. "Human life," he remarks in his _Sceptic_,
"is more governed by fortune than by reason; is to be regarded more as
a dull pastime than as a serious occupation; and is more influenced by
particular humour than by general principles." Morality is no fixed
star in Hume's firmament. To omit the laxity of many moral maxims he
lays down, the very nature and foundations of morality were imperilled
by his analytics.[74]
"He has," writes Mackintosh, "altogether omitted the circumstance on
which depends the difference of our sentiments regarding moral and
intellectual qualities. We _admire_ intellectual excellence, but we
bestow no moral _approbation_ on it." And again--"He entirely overlooks
that consciousness of the _rightful supremacy of the moral faculty_
over every other principle of human action, without an explanation
of which, ethical theory is wanting in one of its vital organs."
_Ethical Philosophy_, pp. 182, 4. "If," says Hume in the _Sceptic_,
"we can depend upon any principle which we learn from philosophy,
this, I think, may be considered as certain and undoubted, that there
is nothing in itself valuable or despicable, desirable or hateful,
beautiful or deformed; but that these attributes arise from the
particular constitution and fabric of human sentiment and affection."
And half a dozen pages afterwards--"Good and ill, both natural and
moral, are entirely relative to human sentiment and affection." So
too, "The necessity of justice to the support of society is," he tells
us, "the SOLE foundation of that virtue;" usefulness, he
explains, "is the SOLE source of the moral approbation paid
to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other estimable
and useful qualities and principles." It is also "the source of a
considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity, benevolence,
friendship, public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp."
_Principles of Morals_, Sect. III. _sub fin._ With these sentiments it
is not surprising that while he insists on the analogy between human
workmanship and the natural universe he cannot argue analogically
from moral Truth to the Divine attributes--and even goes so far as to
decide that the first causes of the Universe "have neither goodness nor
malice."
The student of Natural Theology cannot direct his attention too soon
or too steadily to the vast share possessed by our moral sentiments
in our apprehension of the Divine nature. It is from our sense of
Responsibility attached to each act of Will and Choice that we deduce
the idea of causation. It is from our intuitions of immutable moral
truth and the irreconcilable antithesis between Right and Wrong that
we behold the Martyr as one who has not lived in vain, but lives truly
and for ever; and are sure that there exists a God who has regard to
the righteous, the oppressed, the fatherless, and the widow. Clear
moral insight appears in Socrates, who chose to die rather than offend
against the eternal laws. But ought the man to be styled moral or
immoral who should balance together two comparative utilities,--that
of preserving his father's life and that of acquiring by a judicious
neglect, without risk to himself, a property which he resolved to
expend usefully? Of one thing we may be sure, God could not be in all
his thoughts whilst making such a calculation.
It is thus that a pure Morality and an elevated conception of the
Divine Being act and react upon each other. And in this way our
speculative and practical Reason become interlaced--the former giving
to the logical understanding an account of those ideas which form the
essential sublimity and moving influence of our practical beliefs--the
springs of our daily and hourly behaviour. There is no more certain
characteristic of a mind so ordered than its ability to deal with a
moral doubt which casuists might long debate, to solve the enigma
within the compass of a moment's thought, and to defend the solution by
fair and honest argument. As regards our present question it makes no
difference by what means such a condition of mind may have been brought
about, but it is plain that a sense of accountability has much to do
with this condition. And the connexion between Responsibility and our
belief in a life immortal, and in a just and veracious God, will form a
subject for future consideration.
Meantime, the reader must take Hume's acceptance of the doctrine of
final causes and the Design-analogy, for what it is worth. No candid
person ought to condemn Hume as he has often been condemned without
remembering the allowance to be made for his excessive vanity,[75]
his extreme love of paradoxical speculation, and the dramatic irony
which runs throughout his writings. These are in fact some of the
qualities which make him an unfit schoolmaster for the young, and a
shrewd exercise for elder men. One useful lesson we gather just now is
learned from the fact that he places a wide gulf between the natural
and moral attributes of the Deity, and draws a veil over the latter,
because the alleged poverty of our moral ideas precludes any analogy to
reason upon, however remote that analogy may appear. Hence Hume's God
of Nature becomes a shadow like Wordsworth's Laodamia, scarce fit for
the Elysian bowers; He is no longer felt by us to be the God of Human
Nature.
We cannot here omit to observe that Hume had no thought of worshipping
the Order of the World, or of erecting a temple to immutable Laws,
blind Force, or any other blank impersonal Necessity. The limit of his
inquiry was what to human reason might appear the easiest and most
probable interpretation of nature.[76] This question he asked and
answered. Whether modern science has added important data on which
to found a more conclusive reply is a further inquiry which we shall
have to consider, but meantime it appears certain that _if_ the most
sceptical theory of the most sceptical scientist were held true, there
would still remain the same necessity for asking Hume's question. For
neither our life, nor the world we live in, nor the wide universe,
have any real cause or aim scientifically assigned them. We should
still have to inquire by what agency and to what purpose we and the All
exist? That we really _are_ is a fact for you, O reader, and for me;
and we cannot but want to discover _whether_ we shall yet _be_, when
this brief yet tedious life is done; and if so, whether our present
acts and choosings must influence our Hereafter? Science has said
nothing to annihilate our interest concerning these topics, nor yet to
finally decide them.
For the truth of what is contained in this last paragraph, we may
cite as witness amongst scientific men, the distinguished President
of the British Association for 1872. Dr. Carpenter spoke at Brighton
in these words:--"There is a great deal of what I cannot but regard
as fallacious and misleading Philosophy--'oppositions of Science
falsely so called'--abroad in the world at the present time. And I
hope to satisfy you, that those who set up _their own conceptions_ of
the Orderly Sequence which they discern in the Phenomena of Nature,
as fixed and determinate _Laws_, by which those phenomena not only
_are_ within all Human experience, but always _have been_, and always
_must be_, invariably governed, are really guilty of the Intellectual
arrogance they condemn in the Systems of the Ancients, and place
themselves in diametrical antagonism to those real Philosophers, by
whose comprehensive grasp and penetrating insight that Order has been
so far disclosed." And again towards the close of his Address:--"With
the growth of the Scientific Study of Nature, the conception of its
Harmony and Unity gained ever-increasing strength. And so among the
most enlightened of the Greek and Roman Philosophers, we find a
distinct recognition of the idea of the Unity of the Directing Mind
from which the Order of Nature proceeds; for they obviously believed
that, as our modern Poet has expressed it--
"All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body Nature is, and God the Soul."
The Science of Modern times, however, has taken a more special
direction. Fixing its attention exclusively on the _Order_ of Nature,
it has separated itself wholly from Theology, whose function it is to
seek after its _Cause_. In this, Science is fully justified, alike by
the entire independence of its objects, and by the historical fact
that it has been continually hampered and impeded in its search for
the Truth as it is in Nature, by the restraints which Theologians have
attempted to impose upon its inquiries. But when Science, passing
beyond its own limits, assumes to take the place of Theology, and sets
up its own conception of the _Order_ of Nature as a sufficient account
of its _Cause_, it is invading a province of Thought to which it has no
claim, and not unreasonably provokes the hostility of those who ought
to be its best friends."
Our next extract is from Sir Benjamin Brodie, and it, too, considers
the absolute permanence of the laws of Nature in relation to Design:--
Crites. "There have been sceptics who have believed that the laws of
nature were, if I may use the expression, self-existent; and that what
we now see around us is but a continuation of a system that has been
going on from all eternity--thus dispensing with the notion of a great
creative Intelligence altogether."
Eubulus. "Under any view of the subject, it seems to me that it would
be very difficult, if not impossible, for any of us practically to
separate the marks of design, and of the adaptation of means to ends,
which the universe affords, but which are more especially conspicuous
in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, from the notion of an intelligent
Cause. There is not one of the sceptics to whom you have alluded, who
would not, if he were asked the question, "What is the use of the eye?"
answer, "that it is intended to be the organ of vision, as the ear is
intended to be that of hearing, and as the nostrils are constructed
for the purpose of smell." But what I said just now requires some
further explanation. When I stated that at the present time there is no
evidence of any deviation from certain established laws of nature--that
if we could thoroughly know and thoroughly appreciate what those laws
really are, we should be able to account for all the phenomena around
us--I was far from intending to say that there has never been a period
when other laws than those which are now in force were in operation,
or that the time may not arrive when the present order of things will
be in a similar manner superseded. Looking at the structure of the
globe, and the changes in its surface which have been disclosed to the
observation of geologists, we recognize the probability that there was
a time when this planet of ours was no better than a huge aërolite,
and in a state quite incompatible with animal or even vegetable life.
The existence of living beings, then, must have had a beginning; yet
we have no evidence of any law now in force which will account for
this marvellous creation."[77] Psychological Inquiries, Part II., pp.
193-4-5.
The great surgeon next discusses the question of "Equivocal Generation"
now known by the terms Archebiosis and Abiogenesis. His opinion,
together with some later information on the topic, will be found in our
additional notes to Chapter III.
When writing his first series of "Inquiries" Sir Benjamin recorded his
judgment regarding our knowledge and conception of the Divine Existence
and in terms which show how closely he connected the general subject of
Mind and its Essence with his idea of the Creator.
Eubulus. "When I contemplate the evidence of intention and design which
present themselves everywhere around us, but which, to our limited
comprehensions, is more especially manifested in the vegetable and
animal creations, I cannot avoid attributing the construction and order
of the universe to an intelligent being, whose power and knowledge are
such that it is impossible for me to form any adequate conception of
them, any more than I can avoid referring the motions of the planets
and stars to the same law of gravitation as that which directs the
motions of our own globe. But no one, I apprehend, will maintain that
the mind of the Deity depends on a certain construction of brain and
nerves; and Dr. Priestley, the most philosophical of the advocates of
the system of materialism, ventures no further than to say that we
have no knowledge on the subject. But, to use the words of Sir Isaac
Newton, 'This powerful ever-living agent being in all places, is more
able to move the bodies within his boundless uniform sensorium, and
thereby to form and reform the parts of the universe, than we are,
by our will, to move the parts of our own bodies.' The remainder of
the passage from which I have made this quotation, is not without
interest, as indicating the view which Newton took of the matter in
question:--'And yet we are not to consider the world as the body of
God, or the several parts thereof as the parts of God. He is an uniform
being, void of organs, members, or parts, and they are his creatures,
subordinate to him, and subservient to him, and he is no more the soul
of them than the soul of man is the soul of the species carried through
the organs of sense into the place of its sensation, where it perceives
them by its immediate presence, without the intervention of any third
thing. The organs of sense are not for enabling the soul to perceive
the species of things in its sensorium, but only for conveying them
thither; and God has no need of any such organs, he being everywhere
present to the things themselves.'"
Ergates. "I entirely agree with you in the opinion that we must admit
the existence of the Deity as a fact as well established as that of the
law of gravitation, and that in doing so we must further admit that
mind may and does exist, independently of bodily organization. Be it
also remembered that _mind_, in its humblest form, is still _mind_,
and that, immeasurable as the distance between them may be, it must
nevertheless be regarded as being of the same essence with that of the
Deity himself. For my own part I find no difficulty in conceiving the
existence of mind independently of corporeal organs." (p. 39, seq.)
Those who have read Professor Huxley's article on the Metaphysics of
Sensation,[78] will feel much interested in the passages selected from
Newton by Sir Benjamin. It seems almost a pity that the accomplished
Professor did not cite any of Dr. Clarke's explanatory remarks
addressed to Leibniz respecting Sir Isaac Newton's expressions. The
similitude above quoted, Clarke explains thus:--"Mr. Newton considère
le cerveau et les organes des sens, comme le moyen par lequel ces
images sont Formées et non comme le moyen par lequel l'âme voit
ou aperçoit ces images, lorsqu'elles sont ainsi formées. Et dans
l'Univers, il ne considère pas les choses, comme si elles étaient des
images formées par un certain moyen ou par des organes; mais comme
des choses réelles, que Dieu lui-même a formées, et qu'il voit dans
tous les lieux où elles sont, sans l'intervention d'aucun moyen. C'est
tout ce que Mr. Newton a voulu dire par la comparaison, dont il s'est
servi, lorsqu'il suppose que l'Espace infini est, pour ainsi dire, le
Sensorium de l'Etre qui est présent partout."
A simpler way of putting the case may be to point out that the
comparison of a Sensorium is intended, like other similitudes we have
reviewed, to hold in only one point. Newton uses it apparently to
localize the idea of _immediate intuition_. In this way all Space, the
whole Universe, with its moving contents, which transcend the farthest
flight of human imagination are,--not distantly,--but immediately
present to the mind of God.
* * * * *
Passing from these thoughts which may illustrate, but cannot explain,
a subject dark with excess of splendour, we now enter on a series of
extracts so chosen as to furnish an ample examination of the several
_ideas_ involved in the philosophy of Design, and an estimate of their
several values. It is evidently important that the reader should
possess some means of forming clear conceptions respecting the nature
of these ideas, and the collection now appended, aims at saving him
the trouble of a tedious search. Any points which may have appeared
perplexing or obscure in the preceding Chapter will, it is hoped, be
made sufficiently plain by a perusal of the following pages.
The first in this class of passages is taken from Whewell's Philosophy
of the Inductive Sciences. No one probably was ever much better
fitted by training and attainment than that eminent writer for the
investigation he here undertakes. We must, however, caution the reader
against supposing that Dr. Whewell means to introduce him into a
world of Platonism. The ideas he speaks of may be illustrated in this
way. Suppose a person constructs a right line according to Euclid's
definition and draws it evenly between its extreme points, his mind
has immediately an impression of rightness or straightness, which
he attaches to all lines actually so constructed or conceived of as
theoretically possible. This idea of straightness is absolute and
universal. So, again, looking at two such lines, he knows that they,
cannot, in the nature of things inclose a space, and this idea likewise
is universal and absolutely true.
With the nature of these ideas as a psychological question, the reader
need not concern himself for our present purpose. It is sufficient to
observe they are brought into activity by a practical occasion. Whether
they were wholly or partially pre-existent--or whether they represent
a state of our Reason evoked by the occasion--are points which make no
difference to their exact strength of validity. We find as a matter
of fact in going through life that this particular class of ideas is
so very true that it enables us to gauge the material universe. Yet
notably enough, Hume in his Treatise (I. 247, seq.) reduces applied
mathematics to a species of probability.
Other ideas having various degrees of validity and practical necessity
are involved in the diverse processes which pertain to the inductive
sciences. Dr. Whewell's work was written for the purpose of
elucidating them, which he does at great length. To some such ideas,
principles, and beliefs we shall advert by and bye.
All that seems now necessary is to remark that the distinguished
author's general division (Book IX.) where our extract will be found,
is concerned with the Philosophy of Biology, and that the paragraphs
quoted are sections of its chapter VI., "On the Idea of Final Causes."
"1. By an examination of those notions which enter into all our
reasonings and judgments on living things, it appears that we conceive
animal life as a vortex or cycle of moving matter in which the form
of the vortex determines the motions, and these motions again support
the form of the vortex: the stationary parts circulate the fluids,
and the fluids nourish the permanent parts. Each portion ministers to
the others, each depends upon the other. The parts make up the whole,
but the existence of the whole is essential to the preservation of
the parts. But parts existing under such conditions are _organs_,
and the whole is _organized_. This is the fundamental conception of
organization. 'Organized beings,' says the physiologist,[79] 'are
composed of a number of essential and mutually dependent parts.'--'An
organized product of nature,' says the great metaphysician,[80] 'is
that in which all the parts are mutually ends and means.'
"2. It will be observed that we do not content ourselves with saying
that in such a whole, all the parts are _mutually dependent_. This
might be true even of a mechanical structure; it would be easy to
imagine a framework in which each part should be necessary to the
support of each of the others; for example, an arch of several stones.
But in such a structure the parts have no properties which they derive
from the whole. They are beams or stones when separate; they are no
more when joined. But the same is not the case in an organized whole.
The limb of an animal separated from the body, loses the properties of
a limb and soon ceases to retain even its form.
"3. Nor do we content ourselves with saying that the parts are
_mutually causes and effects_. This is the case in machinery. In a
clock, the pendulum by means of the escapement causes the descent of
the weight, the weight by the same escapement keeps up the motion of
the pendulum. But things of this kind may happen by accident. Stones
slide from a rock down the side of a hill and cause it to be smooth;
the smoothness of the slope causes stones still to slide. Yet no one
would call such a slide an organized system. The system is organized,
when the effects which take place among the parts are _essential to our
conception of the whole_; when the whole would not _be_ a whole, nor
the parts, parts, except these effects were produced; when the effects
not only happen in fact, but are included in the idea of the object;
when they are not only seen, but foreseen; not only expected, but
intended: in short when, instead of being causes and effects, they are
_ends_ and _means_, as they are termed in the above definition.
"Thus we necessarily include, in our idea of Organization, the notion
of an End, a Purpose, a Design; or, to use another phrase which has
been peculiarly appropriated in this case, a _Final Cause_. This idea
of a Final Cause is an essential condition in order to the pursuing our
researches respecting organized bodies....
"5. This has already been confirmed by reference to fact; in the
History of Physiology, I have shown that those who studied the
structure of animals were irresistibly led to the conviction that the
parts of this structure have each its end or purpose;--that each member
and organ not merely produces a certain effect or answers a certain
use, but is so framed as to impress us with the persuasion that it was
constructed _for_ that use;--that it was _intended_ to produce the
effect. It was there seen that this persuasion was repeatedly expressed
in the most emphatic manner by Galen;--that it directed the researches
and led to the discoveries of Harvey;--that it has always been dwelt
upon as a favourite contemplation, and followed as a certain guide, by
the best anatomists;--and that it is inculcated by the physiologists of
the profoundest views and most extensive knowledge of our own time. All
these persons have deemed it a most certain and important principle of
physiology, that in every organized structure, plant or animal, each
intelligible part has its allotted office:--each organ is designed
for its appropriate function:--that nature, in these cases, produces
nothing in vain: that, in short, each portion of the whole arrangement
has its _final cause_; an end to which it is adapted, and in this end,
the reason that it is where and what it is.
"6. This Notion of Design in organized bodies must, I say, be supplied
by the student of organization out of his own mind: a truth which will
become clearer if we attend to the most conspicuous and acknowledged
instances of _design_. The structure of the eye, in which the parts are
curiously adjusted so as to produce a distinct image on the retina, as
in an optical instrument;--the trochlear muscle of the eye, in which
the tendon passes round a support and turns back, like a rope round a
pulley;--the prospective contrivances for the preservation of animals,
provided long before they are wanted, as the milk of the mother, the
teeth of the child, the eyes and the lungs of the foetus:--these
arrangements, and innumerable others, call up in us a persuasion that
Design has entered into the plan of animal form and progress. And if we
bring in our minds this conception of Design, nothing can more fully
square with and fit it, than such instances as these. But if we did not
already possess the Idea of Design;--if we had not had our notion of
mechanical contrivance awakened by inspection of optical instruments,
or pulleys, or in some other way;--if we had never been conscious
ourselves of providing for the future;--if this were the case, we could
not recognize contrivance and prospectiveness in such instances as we
have referred to. The facts are, indeed, admirably in accordance with
these conceptions, when the two are brought together: but the facts and
the conceptions come together from different quarters--from without and
from within.
"7. We may further illustrate this point by referring to the relations
of travellers who tell us that when consummate examples of human
mechanical contrivance have been set before savages, they have appeared
incapable of apprehending them as proofs of design. This shows that
in such cases the Idea of Design had not been developed in the minds
of the people who were thus unintelligent: but it no more proves
that such an idea does not naturally and necessarily arise, in the
progress of men's minds, than the confused manner in which the same
savages apprehend the relations of space, or number, or cause, proves
that these ideas do not naturally belong to their intellects. All men
have these ideas; and it is because they cannot help referring their
sensations to such ideas, that they apprehend the world as existing in
time and space, and as a series of causes and effects. It would be very
erroneous to say that the belief of such truths is obtained by logical
reasoning from facts. And in like manner we cannot logically deduce
design from the contemplation of organic structures; although it is
impossible for us, when the facts are clearly before us, not to find a
reference to design operating in our minds."
It seems well to add here the practical comments made by Müller and
Kant on the passages quoted from them by Dr. Whewell in his first
Paragraph. Professor Müller writes thus (Baly's translation, Vol. I.,
p. 19):--"The manner in which their elements are combined, is not the
only difference between organic and inorganic bodies; there is in
living organic matter a principle constantly in action, the operations
of which are in accordance with a rational plan, so that the individual
parts which it creates in the body, are adapted to the design of the
whole; and this it is which distinguishes organism. Kant says, 'The
cause of the particular mode of existence of each part of a living body
resides in the whole, while in dead masses each part contains this
cause within itself.' This explains why a mere part separated from an
organized whole generally does not continue to live; why, in fact, an
organized body appears to be one and indivisible."
Before proceeding to the great Metaphysician, it may be interesting to
place in connection with this extract from Müller, certain views of
other distinguished physiologists. Sir C. Bell states his own opinions
on the connection of Life and Organization in this manner (_Appendix
to Paley's Natural Theology_ by Sir Charles Bell, commencing with pp.
211-13):--"Archdeacon Paley has, in these two introductory chapters,
given us the advantage of simple, but forcible language, with extreme
ingenuity, in illustration. But for his example, we should have felt
some hesitation in making so close a comparison between design,
as exhibited by the Creator in the animal structure, and the mere
mechanism, the operose and imperfect contrivances of human art.
"Certainly, there may be a comparison; for a superficial and rapid
survey of the animal body may convey the notion of an apparatus of
levers, pulleys, and ropes--which maybe compared with the spring,
barrel, and fusee, the wheels and pinions, of a watch. But if we study
the texture of animal bodies more curiously, and especially if we
compare animals with each other--for example, the simple structure of
the lower creatures with the complicated structure of those higher
in the scale of existence--we shall see, that in the lowest links
of the chain animals are so simple, that we should almost call them
homogeneous; and yet in these we find life, sensibility, and motion.
It is in the animals higher in the scale that we discover parts having
distinct endowments, and exhibiting complex mechanical relations. The
mechanical contrivances which are so obvious in man, for instance, are
the provisions for the agency and dominion of an intellectual power
over the materials around him.
"We mark this early, because there are authors who, looking upon this
complexity of mechanism, confound it with the presence of life itself,
and think it a necessary adjunct--nay, even that life proceeds from
it: whereas the mechanism which we have to examine in the animal body
is formed with reference to the necessity of acting upon or receiving
impressions from, things external to the body--a necessary condition of
our state of existence in a material world.
"Many have expressed their opinion very boldly on the necessary
relation between organization and life, who have never extended their
views to the system of nature. To place man, an intelligent and active
being, in this world of matter, he must have properties bearing
relation to that matter. The existence of matter implies an agency of
certain forces;--the particles of bodies must suffer attraction and
repulsion; and the bodies formed by the balance of these influences
upon their atoms or particles must have weight or gravity, and possess
mechanical properties. So must the living body, independently of its
peculiar endowments, have similar composition and qualities, and
have certain relations to the solids, fluids, gases, heat, light,
electricity, or galvanism, which are around it. "Without these, the
intellectual principle could receive no impulse--could have no agency
and no relation to the material world. The whole body must gravitate
or have weight; without which it could neither stand securely, nor
exert its powers on the bodies around it. But for this, muscular
power itself, and all the appliances which are related to that power,
would be useless. When, therefore, it is affirmed that organization
or construction is necessary to life, we may at least pause in giving
assent, under the certainty that we see another and a different reason
for the construction of the body. Thus we perceive, that as the body
must have weight to have power, so must it have mechanical contrivance,
or arrangement of its parts. As it must have weight, so must it be
sustained by a skeleton; and when we examine the bones, which give
the body height and shape, we find each column (for in that sense a
bone may be first taken) adjusted with the finest attention to the
perpendicular weight that it has to bear, as well as to the lateral
thrusts to which it is subject in the motions of the body."... Again
p. 405, seq.
.... "Mr. Hunter illustrated the subject thus:--Death is apparent or
real. A man dragged out of the water, and to appearance dead, is,
notwithstanding, alive, according to the definition we have given.
The living endowments of the individual parts are not exhausted. The
sensibility may be yet roused; the nerves which convey the impression
may yet so far retain their property, that other motor nerves may be
influenced through them; the muscles may be once more concatenated, and
drawn into a simultaneous action. That vibratory motion which we have
just said may be witnessed in a muscle recently cut out of the body,
may be so excited in a class of muscles--for example, in the muscles
of inspiration--that the apparently dead draws an inspiration. Here is
the first of a series of vital motions which excites the others, and
the heart beats, and the blood circulates, and the sensibilities are
restored; and the mind, which was in the condition of one asleep, is
roused into activity and volition, and all the common phenomena of life
are resuscitated. Such is the series of phenomena which is presented in
apparent death from suffocation; but, if the death has been from an
injury of some vital part, the sensibilities and properties of action
in the rest of the body, though resident for a time, have lost their
relations, and there is a link wanting in that chain of vital actions
which restores animation. Here, then, there can be no resuscitation;
and the death of the individual parts of the body rapidly succeeds the
apparent death of the body.
"We perceive now that our original conception of life and the terms
we use respecting it, in common parlance, are but ill-adapted to this
subject when philosophically considered. We early associate life and
motion so intimately that the one stands for the other. If we then
investigate by anatomy, we find a curious and minute mechanism in
operation, an engine and tubes for circulation, and, in short, an
internal motion of every particle of the frame; and the anatomist is
also led into the error of associating in his mind life with motion and
organization. But when we consider the subject more closely, and divest
ourselves of habits and prejudices associated with words, we perceive
that, without making any vain and even dangerous attempt at definition,
life is first to be contemplated as the peculiarity distinguishing
one of two classes into which all matter must be arranged; the one
class, which embraces all living matter, is subject to a controlling
influence which resists the chemical agents, and produces a series of
revolutions, in an order and at periods prescribed; the other, dead
matter, is subject to lapse and change under chemical agency and the
common laws of matter.
"Let us examine the body of a perfect or a complicated animal. We
find each organ possessed of a different power. But there is as yet
no conventional language adapted to our discourse on this subject,
and that is the source of many mistakes; for when a man even like
Mr. Hunter had his mind illuminated upon this science, how was he to
frame his language, when every word that he used had already a meaning
which had no reference to the discovery he had made--to the distinct
qualities which he had ascertained to belong to the living parts?...
"The difference between dead and living matter will appear to be, that
in the one instance the particles are permanently arranged and continue
to exhibit their proper character, as we term it, until by ingenuity
and practice some means are found to withdraw the arranging or uniting
influence; and then the matter is chemically dissolved: resolves into
its elements, and forms new combinations: whilst the life continues,
not simply to arrange the particles, and to give them the order or
organization of the animal body, but to whirl them in a series of
revolutions, during all which the material is passive, the law being in
the life. The order and succession of these changes and their duration
do not result from the material of the frame, which is the same in
all animals, but from that influence which we term life, and which is
superadded to the material." (_Ibid._ 408.)
Writing on Function Mr. Herbert Spencer discusses the following
question. Its interest to our argument is unmistakable.
"Does Structure originate Function, or does Function originate
Structure? is a question about which there has been disagreement.
Using the word Function in its widest signification, as the totality
of all vital actions, the question amounts to this--Does Life produce
Organization, or does Organization produce Life?
"To answer this question is not easy, since we habitually find the
two so associated that neither seems possible without the other;
and they appear uniformly to increase and decrease together....
There is, however, one fact implying that Function must be regarded
as taking precedence of Structure. Of the lowest Rhizopods, which
present no distinctions of parts, and nevertheless feed and grow and
move about, Prof. Huxley has remarked that they exhibit Life without
Organization....
"It may be argued that on the hypothesis of Evolution, Life necessarily
comes before organization. On this hypothesis, organic matter in a
state of homogeneous aggregation, must precede organic matter in a
state of heterogeneous aggregation. But since the passing from a
structureless state to a structured state, is itself a vital process,
it follows that vital activity must have existed while there was yet
no structure: structure could not else arise. That function takes
precedence of structure, seems also implied in the definition of
Life. If Life consists of inner actions so adjusted as to balance
outer actions--if the actions are the _substance_ of Life, while the
adjustment of them constitutes its _form_; then, may we not say that
the actions to be formed must come before that which forms them--that
the continuous change which is the basis of function, must come before
the structure which brings function into shape? Or again, since
throughout all phases of Life up to the highest, every advance is the
effecting of some better adjustment of inner to outer actions; and
since the accompanying new complexity of structure is simply a means
of making possible this better adjustment; it follows that function is
from beginning to end the determining cause of structure."--_Principles
of Biology_, by Mr. Herbert Spencer, p. 153, seq.
We now return to Kant, from whom Dr. Whewell quoted the sentence--"An
organized product of nature is that in which all the parts are mutually
ends and means." Passing by a metaphysical paragraph expressed in a
manner too technical for the general reader, Kant's practical comment
on this sentence runs as follows:--
"Dass die Zergliederer der Gewächse und Thiere, um ihre Structur zu
erforschen und die Gründe einsehen zu können, warum und zu welchem
Ende solche Theile, warum eine solche Lage und Verbindung der Theile
und gerade diese innere Form ihnen gegeben worden, jene Maxime: dass
nichts in einem solchen Geschöpf UMSONST sey, als unumgänglich
nothwendig annehmen und sie eben so, als den Grundsatz der allgemeinen
Naturlehre: dass NICHTS VON UNGEFÄHR geschehe, geltend machen,
ist bekannt. In der That können sie sich auch von diesem teleologischen
Grundsatze eben so wenig lossagen, als dem allgemeinen physischen,
weil, so wie bei Veranlassung des letzteren gar keine Erfahrung
überhaupt, so bei der des ersteren Grundsatzes kein Leitfaden für die
Beobachtung einer Art von Naturdinge, die wir einmal teleologisch unter
dem Begriffe der Naturzwecke gedacht haben, übrig bleiben würde.
"Denn dieser Begriff führt die Vernunft in eine ganz andere Ordnung
der Dinge, als die eines blossen Mechanism der Natur, der uns hier
nicht mehr genug thun will. Eine Idee soll der Möglichkeit des
Naturproducts zum Grunde liegen. Weil diese aber ein absolute Einheit
der Vorstellung ist, statt dessen die Materie eine Vielheit der Dinge
ist, die für sich keine bestimmte Einheit der Zusammensetzung an
die Hand geben kann, so muss, wenn jene Einheit der Idee, sogar als
Bestimmungsgrund _a priori_ eines Naturgesetzes der Causalität einer
solchen Form des Zusammengesetzten dienen soll, der Zweck der Natur auf
ALLES, was in ihrem Producte liegt, erstreckt werden; weil, wenn wir
einmal dergleichen Wirkung im GANZEN auf einen übersinnlichen
Bestimmungsgrund über den blinden Mechanism der Natur hinaus beziehen,
wir sie auch ganz nach diesem Princip beurtheilen müssen und kein Grund
da ist, die Form eines solchen Dinges noch zum Theil vom letzteren als
abhängig anzunehmen, da alsdann bei der Vermischung ungleichartiger
Principien, gar keine sichere Regel der Beurtheilung übrig bleiben
würde." _Kritik der Urtheilskraft_, Section 65.
For the benefit of those who find Kant's German difficult we subjoin a
neat French Translation from the pen of M. Barni.
"On sait que ceux qui dissèquent les plantes et les animaux pour en
étudier la structure, et pouvoir reconnaître pourquoi et à quelle fin
telles parties leur ont été données, pourquoi telle disposition et
tel arrangement des parties, et précisément cette forme intérieure,
admettent comme indispensablement nécessaire cette maxime que rien
n'existe _en vain_ dans ces créatures, et lui accordent une valeur
égale à celle de ce principe de la physique générale, que _rien
n'arrive par hasard_. Et en effet ils ne peuvent pas plus rejeter ce
principe téléologique que le principe universel de la physique; car,
de même qu'en l'absence de ce dernier il n'y aurait plus d'expérience
possible en général, de même, sans le premier, il n'y aurait plus de
fil conducteur pour l'observation d'une espèce de choses de la nature,
que nous avons une fois conçues téléologiquement sous le concept des
fins de la nature.
"En effet ce concept introduit la raison dans un tout autre ordre de
choses que celui du pur mécanisme de la nature, qui ne peut plus ici
nous satisfaire. Il faut qu'une idée serve de principe à la possibilité
de la production de la nature. Mais comme une idée est une unité
absolue de réprésentation, tandis que la matière est une pluralité de
choses qui par elle-même ne peut fournir aucune unité déterminée de
composition, si cette unité de l'idée doit servir, comme principe _a
priori_, à déterminer une loi naturelle à la production d'une forme de
ce genre, il faut que la fin de la nature s'étende _à tout_ ce qui est
contenu dans sa production. En effet, dès que pour expliquer un certain
effet, nous cherchons, au-dessus de l'aveugle mécanisme de la nature,
un principe supra-sensible et que nous l'y rapportons _en général_,
nous devons le juger tout entier d'après ce principe; et il n'y a pas
de raison pour regarder la forme de cette chose comme dépendant encore
en partie de l'autre principe, car alors, dans le mélange de principes
hétérogènes, il ne resterait plus de règle sûre pour le jugement."
_Critique du Jugement_, Section 65.
Kant is not in any dress the easiest of thinkers to follow--a result
possibly consequent upon the resemblance which his writings bear to
trains of reasoning as they pass from the lips of one who thinks aloud.
The following paragraph from another work of Dr. Whewell's may be
useful to some minds as a comment upon this portion of Kant's teleology.
"There is yet one other Idea which I shall mention, though it is one
about which difficulties have been raised, since the consideration
of such difficulties may be instructive: the Idea of a purpose, or
as it is often termed, a _Final Cause_, in organized bodies. It has
been held, and rightly, that the assumption of a Final Cause of each
part of animals and plants is as inevitable as the assumption of an
efficient cause of every event. The maxim, that in organized bodies
nothing is _in vain_, is as necessarily true as the maxim that nothing
happens _by chance_. I have elsewhere shown fully that this Idea is
not deduced from any special facts, but is assumed as a law governing
all facts in organic nature, directing the researches and interpreting
the observations of physiologists. I have also remarked that it is
not at variance with that other law, that plants and that animals are
constructed upon general plans, of which plans, it may be, we do not
see the necessity, though we see how wide is their generality. This
Idea of a purpose,--of a Final Cause,--then, thus supplied by our
minds, is found to be applicable throughout the organic world. It is
in virtue of this Idea that we conceive animals and plants as subject
to _disease_; for disease takes place when the parts do not fully
answer their _purpose_; when they do not do what they _ought_ to do.
How is it then that we thus find an Idea which is _supplied_ by our
own minds, but which is _exemplified_ in every part of the organic
world? Here perhaps the answer will be readily allowed. It is because
this Idea is an Idea of the Divine Mind. There _is_ a Final Cause in
the constitution of these parts of the universe, and therefore we
can interpret them by means of the Idea of Final Cause. We can _see_
a purpose, because there _is_ a purpose. Is it too presumptuous to
suppose that we can thus enter into the Ends and Purposes of the Divine
Mind? We willingly grant and declare that it would be presumptuous to
suppose that we can enter into them to any but a very small degree.
They doubtless go immeasurably beyond our mode of understanding or
conceiving them. But to a certain extent we _can_ go. We can go so
far as to see that they _are_ Ends and Purposes. It is _not_ a vain
presumption in us to suppose that we know that the eye was made for
seeing and the ear for hearing. In this the most pious of men see
nothing impious: the most cautious philosophers see nothing rash. And
that we can see thus far into the designs of the Divine Mind, arises,
we hold, from this:--that we have an Idea of Design and of Purpose
which, so far as it is merely _that_, is true; and so far, is Design
and Purpose in the same sense in the one case and in the other."[81]
* * * * *
It will be well worth while to close this present series of
illustrations by a review of Professor Huxley's last published and best
considered positions on Teleology. He printed, in 1871, an article on
Haeckel's "Natürliche Schöpfungs Geschichte," and has now entitled it
"The Genealogy of Animals," and included it in his recent volume of
Critiques. We may therefore assume that we here find the distinguished
Biologist's deliberate opinions. He says, p. 305, "The Teleology
which supposes that the eye, such as we see it in man or one of the
higher _Vertebrata_,[82] was made with the precise structure which
it exhibits, for the purpose of enabling the animal which possesses
it to see, has undoubtedly received its death-blow. Nevertheless it
is necessary to remember that there is a wider Teleology, which is
not touched by the doctrine of Evolution, but is actually based upon
the fundamental proposition of Evolution. That proposition is, that
the whole world, living and not living, is the result of the mutual
interaction, according to definite laws, of the forces possessed by
the molecules of which the primitive nebulosity of the universe was
composed. If this be true, it is no less certain that the existing
world lay, potentially, in the cosmic vapour; and that a sufficient
intelligence could, from a knowledge of the properties of the molecules
of that vapour, have predicted, say the state of the Fauna of Britain
in 1869, with as much certainty as one can say what will happen to the
vapour of the breath on a cold winter's day.
"Consider a kitchen clock, which ticks loudly, shows the hours,
minutes, and seconds, strikes, cries 'cuckoo!' and perhaps shows the
phases of the moon. When the clock is wound up, all the phenomena which
it exhibits are potentially contained in its mechanism, and a clever
clockmaker could predict all it will do after an examination of its
structure.
"If the evolution theory is correct, the molecular structure of the
cosmic gas stands in the same relation to the phenomena of the world as
the structure of the clock to its phenomena."
Mr. Huxley's comparisons[83] are always amusing, partly because they
are of an unlooked for description. They also keep up the attention of
his readers or hearers. But they have one great fault--the fault we
noticed in explaining the nature of analogical argument--they carry
away the mind too far, and lead the reader often, sometimes the writer
himself, into very serious oversights. Let us take notice how the
Professor carries out his present similitude. "Now let us suppose a
death-watch, living in the clock-case, to be a learned and intelligent
student of its works. He might say, 'I find here nothing but matter and
force and pure mechanism from beginning to end,' and he would be quite
right. But if he drew the conclusion that the clock was not contrived
for a purpose, he would be quite wrong. On the other hand, imagine
another death-watch of a different turn of mind. He, listening to the
monotonous 'tick! tick!' so exactly like his own, might arrive at the
conclusion that the clock was itself a monstrous sort of death-watch,
and that its final cause and purpose was to tick. How easy to point to
the clear relation of the whole mechanism to the pendulum, to the fact
that the one thing the clock did always and without intermission was
to tick, and that all the rest of its phenomena were intermittent and
subordinate to ticking! For all this, it is certain that kitchen clocks
are not contrived for the purpose of making a ticking noise.
"Thus the teleological theorist would be as wrong as the mechanical
theorist, among our death-watches; and, probably, the only death-watch
who would be right would be the one who should maintain that the
sole thing death-watches could be sure about was the nature of the
clock-works and the way they move; and that the purpose of the clock
lay wholly beyond the purview of beetle faculties.
"Substitute 'cosmic vapour' for 'clock,' and 'molecules' for 'works,'
and the application of the argument is obvious." (pp. 306, 7.)
One thing is very obvious here--and that is a flaw. State the case as
a proposition thus--One or both of the two beetles is to the clock
and its maker, as man is to the world and its Maker. A tremendous
assumption--surely as sufficient to have startled Francis Bacon as the
apparition of a new Idol. Is there any possible reason for elevating
a death-watch--thinking in character as a death-watch--into a capable
interpreter of clocks? Moreover, the ground principle of our human
Teleology is that Man holds a lofty relation, not to the Universe only,
but to its Maker likewise. He claims, in a word, the most sublime of
all earthly kinships. The very fact that he can look with intelligent
and admiring appreciation upon the works of God, justifies his belief
that he has a real insight into their excellence, and is so far at
least akin to the mind of God. If Mr. Huxley meant that a proportionate
degree of insight into clock-making was possessed by his beetles,
they would surely have been able to read the clock's dial-plate and
understand the lesson conveyed by its pointers. The death-watch would
at least say "_labuntur horæ_"--and comprehend that time was being
registered--although he might even then fall far short of our human
belief "_pereunt et imputantur_," and fail of knowing that time
registers itself in a record of moral good and evil.
The truth is that all mixing up manlike attributes with brute
animality, and what seems ten times worse, with machines of wood and
metal, can be nothing better than an attempt to produce a sound and
prolific offspring from some ill-assorted and heterogeneous hybridism.
We have adverted to this peculiarity of style before and venture
upon doing so again, because all admirers of Mr. Huxley's great
powers (and who can read his writings without such admiration?) may
surely be justified in wishing that he would discard it at once and
for ever. Its practical effect is apparently to assume the real
point at issue and to cover up the tacit assumption. That he is
really no chance offender in this respect may be gathered from a few
instances noted at random. We have just had a couple of philosophic
death-watches[84]--one a Teleologist, the other a Mechanicist--the
lucubrations of both being neither exactly human, nor yet Coleopterous.
We observed before a righteous clock[85]--regularly moral if regularly
wound up. He has besides a machine, undescribed but endued with a
gift of ratiocination[86]--and more curious still a piano[87] which
listens when it is played upon, and though possessed of only one sense
(hearing) succeeds in building up "endless ideas" of a certain cast
and cogency. From this self-educated instrument much may of course be
looked for, and accordingly we find
"Its cogitative faculties immersed
In cogibundity of cogitation,"
till it evolves from the depth of its consciousness something like an
idealistic theory of sound. This hypothesis, Mr. Huxley in reply to
his piano, refutes, first by an appeal to the material substance of
the instrument itself; and secondly to the existence of a musician who
plays upon it. Will he permit us to accept in like manner the fact of
our own nobler subsistence, and also the being of One Who attunes its
secret heart-strings to notes of sublime melody?
The monsters aforecited irresistibly remind us of a repartee of
Goldsmith's. He wittily said that Dr. Johnson would make little fishes
talk like great whales. Had they done so it may be doubted whether the
Doctor's idolatrous biographer would have discovered a minnowy mind
beneath their Johnsonian utterances. And we confess to a difficulty of
our own. The righteous clock is indeed genuinely Huxleian, but what
shall we say of his mechanical logic, his piano, and his death-watches?
By way of illustrating our perplexity let us suppose some rural sexton
to mix up his own instincts with those of a biological burying beetle.
The destiny of all flesh would naturally be determined in the first
place by a decent covering of earth. But what about its final end?
Would that be an aldermanic beetle feast or a _Resurgam_?
Think again how a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
to Animals might breathe a benevolent spirit into a much employed
dissecting knife. The sharp thing would certainly entertain a
repugnance to the horrors of vivisection. There might also be a denial
of its utility based on the scalpel's personal experience, or perhaps
a moral doubt as to whether such means are justified by the ends
proposed. Would Mr. Huxley listen to the remonstrance and undertake to
lift up his powerful voice at Paris or at Berlin besides a few other
remote places which need not be particularized?
Or finally what ear would he lend to a magnifying glass accustomed
to habits of observation and possessed by the soul of Spurzheim.
Suppose it should affirm that a slice of Destructiveness is
recognizably different in structure from a section of Benevolence; and
Acquisitiveness in like manner distinguishable from Ideality! Yet a
humanitarian scalpel or Spurzheim magnifying glass may be thought a
Huxleian phenomenon.
A truce to such mongrel meditations. We gladly turn away from them and
continue our quotations from the Professor's sentiments delivered _in
propria persona_, recommencing at the place where our last extract
broke off. (p. 307.)
"The teleological and the mechanical views of nature, are not
necessarily, mutually exclusive. On the contrary, the more purely a
mechanist the speculator is, the more firmly does he assume primordial
molecular arrangement, of which all the phenomena of the universe
are the consequences; and the more completely is he thereby at the
mercy of the teleologist who can always defy him to disprove that
this primordial molecular arrangement was not intended to evolve the
phenomena of the universe."
We quite agree with Mr. Huxley that Mechanism never can exclude final
causes, and that a thorough-going theory of Evolution (taken apart
from its excrescences) disables the theorist from all real disproof
of intention or Design. As we said before, the question of how the
theorist's primordial arrangement began, is left unprovided for. And if
a beginning, so certainly an _end_. The more steadily the first state
of the Universe conceivable by Science is contemplated, the wider and
more determinate the view thus taken, the more evident it becomes that
the ground occupied by Natural Theology is not fenced off by the iron
pale of Mechanism. The fencer is (as Huxley says) "at the mercy of the
Teleologist."
The Professor's next sentence deserves careful consideration--"On the
other hand, if the teleologists assert that this, that, or the other
result of the working of any part of the mechanism of the universe is
its purpose and final cause, the mechanist can always inquire how he
knows that it is more than an unessential incident--the mere ticking of
the clock, which he mistakes for its function."
How far this criticism holds good of many well-meant treatises
filled with special instances of Design is a question for candid
consideration. Meantime the whole sentence amounts to this
conclusion:--We must distinguish between such wide arguments as Baden
Powell's, and the details of certain writers who have dealt with what
they thought good examples and illustrations of a grand universal
principle. And that such is Mr. Huxley's meaning we may perceive from
another paragraph immediately preceding our first extract. (p. 305.)
"In more than one place, Professor Haeckel enlarges upon the service
which the _Origin of Species_ has done, in favouring what he terms
the 'causal or mechanical' view of living nature as opposed to the
'teleological or vitalistic' view. And no doubt it is quite true that
the doctrine of Evolution is the most formidable opponent of all
the commoner and coarser forms of Teleology. But perhaps the most
remarkable service to the philosophy of Biology rendered by Mr. Darwin
is the reconciliation of Teleology and Morphology, and the explanation
of the facts of both which his views offer."
Now, such being the state of facts, we may refuse to say with Huxley
that the following question (asked p. 307) is "not irrational." "Why
trouble oneself about matters which are out of reach, when the working
of the mechanism itself, which is of infinite practical importance,
affords scope for all our energies?"
We cannot forego our trouble, for two reasons. _First_, according to
the statements before quoted, Mr. Darwin's researches have improved the
case for Teleology. Advocates of Design may therefore take courage,
they have gained a potent alliance. _Secondly_, "the practical working
of the Mechanism itself" is very far, we think, from being our All--so
far, indeed, that it sinks into insignificance compared with the hope
of Immortality. Our highest interest lies in gathering such information
as we can regarding Him with Whom we have to do as the Arbiter of our
future existence. Above all things, we desire Him to be our Father and
our Friend. Perchance His attributes are not matters out of reach. He
may be very near to every one of us, if we are indeed His Offspring.
Another opinion of Professor Huxley's is of great auxiliary value to
the argument from Design. The structures mentioned have to some minds
appeared as its most serious difficulties. "Professor Haeckel," he
explains, "has invented a new and convenient name, 'Dysteleology,'
for the study of the 'purposelessnesses' which are observable in
living organisms--such as the multitudinous cases of rudimentary and
apparently useless structures. I confess, however, that it has often
appeared to me that the facts of Dysteleology cut two ways. If we are
to assume, as evolutionists in general do, that useless organs atrophy,
such cases as the existence of lateral rudiments of toes, in the foot
of a horse, place us in a dilemma. For, either these rudiments are of
no use to the animal, in which case, considering that the horse has
existed in its present form since the Pliocene epoch, they surely ought
to have disappeared; or they are of some use to the animal, in which
case they are of no use as arguments against Teleology." (p. 307.) It
would be hard to overestimate the value of this opinion, still more
hard to overrate its genuine and outspoken honesty.
Mr. Huxley places at the end of his recent volume a passage from Bishop
Berkeley which we will venture to borrow by way of conclusion to this
lengthy note:--
"You see, Hylas, the water of yonder fountain, how it is forced
upwards in a round column to a certain height, at which it breaks and
falls back into the basin from whence it rose; its ascent as well
as its descent proceeding from the same uniform law or principle of
gravitation. Just so, the same principles which, at first view, lead to
scepticism, pursued to a certain point, bring men back to common sense."
_Adsit omen!_ May it be even thus with our large-minded Professor
and with all other sovereign princes of Biology--[Greek: Hileôs'
Asklêpios]!
FOOTNOTES:
[14] See more particularly Chapter V., "Production and its Law."
[15] Most literary people are aware that it was borrowed by Paley
himself. A reference very accessible to ordinary readers may be made
to Knight's English Cyclopædia, Article _Nieuwentyt_. "A work," says
the biographer, "was published by him at Amsterdam in 1715, in one
volume 4to, entitled 'The right use of Contemplating the Works of the
Creator': the object of the author is first to convince atheists of
the existence of a supreme and benevolent Creator, by contemplating
the mechanism of the heavens, the structure of animals, etc.; and,
secondly, to remove the doubts of deists concerning revealed religion.
It was originally published in Dutch, but has passed through several
editions, in German, French, and English. The English editions,
translated by Chamberlayne, under the title of the 'Religious
Philosopher,' appeared at London in 1718-19 and 1730, in three vols.
8vo. This work, as was first pointed out in the _Athenæum_ for 1848,
pp. 803, 907, 930, served as the basis for Paley's 'Natural Theology,'
the general argument and many of the illustrations in that remarkable
work being directly copied--and without the slightest acknowledgment,
though Paley was acquainted with the book--from the 'Religious
Philosopher.'"
Lord Brougham, who does not appear to have seen Bernard Nieuwentyt's
book, believes that Derham supplied the fountain from which Paley drank
so freely. Apparently he used both.
To this note it may be added that the want of Natural Philosophy under
which the Archdeacon himself laboured, has been recently commented on
in the following terms:--
"Paley kicked his foot unconcernedly against the stone he found on
the heath; for anything he knew, he says, it might have been there
for ever. Geology was then a practically unknown science, or he might
have found epochs of history in the stone, and evidence of all manner
of special creations for man's benefit. But Paley was no natural
philosopher, only a half-learned theologian, who skimmed over all
difficulties, and produced a book which has done immense harm in
leading Englishmen to anthropomorphic conceptions of God."--_Report of
an Address by A. J. Ellis, President of the Philological Society, in an
American Newspaper_ (_the Index_) _for August 10th, 1872_.
[k] So Hume (Inquiry, Section IV.): "A man, finding a watch or any
other machine in a desert island, would conclude that there had once
been men in that island." And again (Id. Section V.): "A man who should
find in a desert country the remains of pompous buildings, would
conclude that the country had in ancient times been cultivated by
civilized inhabitants but did nothing of this nature occur to him, he
could never form such an inference." The inference is, as Hume says,
from effect to cause--a subject which he is here investigating _more
suo_. To the nature of this inference I have found reason for recurring
more than once.
[16] A striking peculiarity of this skeleton is thus described by
Professor Huxley ("Manual of the Anatomy of Vertebrated Animals,"
p. 217). "In many _Lacertilia_ (_Lacertæ_, _Iguanæ_, _Geckos_) the
caudal vertebræ have a very singular structure, the middle of each
being traversed by a thin, unossified, transverse septum. The vertebra
naturally breaks with great readiness through the plane of the septum,
and when such lizards are seized by the tail, that appendage is pretty
certain to part at one of these weak points."
[l] "God," says Dogberry, "is a good Man." So others besides Dogberry.
Curiously enough, the charge of Anthropomorphism has been brought by
a most eminent naturalist against the greatest authorities on Natural
Selection.
M. Edouard Claparède writes as follows in the "Archives des Sciences
Physiques et Naturelles" for 1870:--
"Mon but est seulement de montrer que les armes dont M. Wallace se sert
victorieusement pour attaquer le duc d'Argyll, se retournent contre
lui-même. Sans doute, c'est un pur anthropomorphisme que de supposer
chez un Créateur un sentiment du Beau entièrement semblable au nôtre,
et une telle hypothèse n'a rien à faire avec la science. Mais cet
autre anthropomorphisme par lequel les Darwinistes supposent chez les
oiseaux un sens du Beau identique au nôtre, est il plus justifié? Soit
M. Darwin, soit M. Wallace, expliquent la formation de la belle voix
et du beau plumage chez les oiseaux mâles par sélection sexuelle. Les
femelles sont censées donner toujours la préférence aux mâles, qui,
au point de vue humain, ont la plus belle voix et les plus brillantes
couleurs. Au contraire, chez toutes les espèces à cri désagrèable
pour l'oreille humaine et à couleur sombre, la nature du cri comme de
la couleur a dû sa formation à une autre forme de sélection que la
sélection sexuelle. Quel oubli de l'antique dicton: _De gustibus et
coloribus non est disputandum_! Si ce dicton a été reconnu vrai chez
toutes les nations civilisées, il acquiert une force bien autrement
grande lorsqu'il s'agit de son application à des oiseaux. Serait il
absurde de supposer chez certains oiseaux un goût prononcé pour les
couleurs sombres, comme ce goût existe chez beaucoup d'hommes? Et alors
ne devient-il pas possible, contrairement à MM. Darwin et Wallace,
d'expliquer la couleur terne de certaines espèces par sélection
sexuelle? N'en peut-il pas être de même pour la voix criarde de tel ou
tel volatile? Certes, il est dangereux de baser un édifice sur quelque
chose d'aussi subjectif qu'un sentiment, quelque soit du reste la
nature de l'être chez lequel on le suppose plus ou moins gratuitement,
oiseau ou Créateur!" (pp. 175-6.)
[m] If any one desires to see how early and how persistently this
difficulty attached itself to the Design Analogy, I may be permitted to
refer him to a thin volume of my own, entitled "Right and Wrong," pp.
17-22 (text and notes), and Appendix, pp. 58-60.
A similar Dualism (coupled with the charge of Anthropomorphism) is
frequently urged against Natural Theology at the present day. The
alternative proposed has been called Monism. The fixed unyielding realm
of Abiology (inorganic nature) is taken as the type of the universe.
The sole supposable Divine principle (or Spirit) is identified with
its law, which is in turn pronounced identical with philosophical
necessity--that is to say, a necessity not imposed by or flowing from
the Divine will, but a necessity which annihilates the possibility of
all will. The Divine principle thus supposed is simply that law or
force which is embodied in the mechanism of the universe.
Professor Haeckel of Jena is the author of a book which has been styled
in Germany, "The Bible of Darwinism." The following passages will show
how he treats the subject under consideration in the text. He writes
(Generelle Morphologie der Organismen, Book II. cap. vi. sec. 2, "On
Creation") to the following effect:--
"THE CONCEPTION OF CREATION is either altogether unimaginable,
or at least perfectly inconsistent with that pure intuition of Nature
founded on an empirical basis. In Abiology a creation is no longer
anywhere spoken of at all, and it is in Biology only that people are
still closely wrapped up in this error. The conception of creation
is perfectly unimaginable, if by it is understood 'an origination of
something out of nothing.' This acceptation is quite incompatible
with one of the first and chiefest of Nature's laws--one, indeed,
universally acknowledged--namely, with the great law, that ALL
MATTER IS ETERNAL." (Vol. i. p. 171.)
There is one general reflection which may fairly strike the honest
and ingenuous mind respecting the difficulties thus "Now if the
conception of such an immaterial force, discoverable exterior to
matter, independent of, yet nevertheless acting upon it, is absolutely
inadmissible and inconceivable in itself, then so, too, becomes the
conception of a creative power from our point of view; and all the
more so, since with it are united the most untenable teleological
conceptions, and the most palpable Anthropomorphism."... "In all these
teleological conceptions, and similarly in all histories of creation
which the poetical phantasy of men has produced, gross Anthropomorphism
is so evident, that we may leave the denial of this Creation-idea
to the insight of any general reader who thinks for himself, and is
not too far involved in traditional prejudices."... "A creation of
organisms is, therefore, partly quite unimaginable, partly in such
complete contradiction to all knowledge of nature empirically gained,
that we cannot in any case allow ourselves to end by accepting this
hypothesis. There remains, consequently, nothing else but to suppose a
spontaneous origination of the simplest organisms, from which all more
perfect ones developed themselves by gradual metamorphosis--that is to
say, a self-forming or self-configuration of matter into organization,
which is generally called primordial production or spontaneous
generation (_generatio æquivoca_). (Ibid. 173-4.)
Haeckel commences his section upon Dualism and Monism (Book I. cap. iv.
section 6), with the following quotation from August Schleicher (die
Darwinische Theorie und die Sprachwissenschaft: Weimar, 1863, p. 8):--
"The tendency of modern thought is undeniably towards _Monism_.
_Dualism_--whether you are pleased to define it as the contrast of
spirit and nature, of contents and form, of appearance and reality--is
no longer a firm ground to stand upon, if we wish to survey the
field of modern science. To the latter there is no matter without
spirit (_i.e._ without the unavoidable necessity that governs it),
nor, on the other hand, is there any spirit without matter. We might
say, perhaps, that there is neither matter nor spirit in the usual
acceptation of the words, but only a something which is the one and
the other at the same time. To charge this view--which is founded on
observation--with materialism, is equally unjust as to lay it at the
door of spiritualism."
Haeckel concludes this section by avowing an unalterable conviction of
the truth of Monism, with which his mind is thoroughly penetrated.
The extracts above given will explain the value of those distinctions
respecting Law and Causation, which are drawn in the latter part of
this chapter. The wider subject pertains, however, to Chapter V., where
it is discussed at some length.
[17] Many readers may be pleased by a perusal of Lord Brougham's
"Dissertation on the Origin of Evil." It gives an account of
various hypotheses, and ends with some interesting remarks. See his
"Dissertations on Subjects of Science connected with Natural Theology,"
vol. ii.
[18] Even Lord Brougham, whom no one will accuse of a too ardent
addiction to metaphysical pursuits, chides Paley very severely for
this neglect. Dr. Whewell's censure is more grave. Passages from these
criticisms are given in Additional Note A, with some explanations which
may conduce to a clear insight of what is meant by bad metaphysics,
particularly in relation to the subject before us.
[19] Compare the figure employed in Rev. xxi. 1.
[n] There seems little doubt that the popular phrase "Design proves
a Designer" has given rise to an extensive distrust of the Design
argument _in toto_. Compare Additional Note B.
[o] Another shape of the objection is stated and examined in Additional
Note C.
[20] Essay on the "Spirit of the Inductive Philosophy," Ed. 2, p. 174.
The italics and capitals are Professor Powell's.
[p] Were Paley now alive, he might plead the example of Mr. Darwin,
whose practice it is to speak of any incidental chasm occasioned by
the link sometimes missing from his premises, as "not a long step."
"Mr. Darwin's argument," says a reviewer of his "Descent of Man," "is
a continuous conjugation of the potential mood. It rings the changes
on 'can have been,' 'might have been,' 'would have been,' 'should
have been,' until it leaps with a wide bound into 'must have been.'"
(_Times_, April 8, 1871.) Any similarity between the reasonings of
the Archdeacon and the Naturalist may appear noteworthy. But the
coincidence ends here. Paley, though reproved by a Lord Chancellor, had
the good fortune to be excused by a Bishop. There is a short account
of both censure and defence in the notes to Powell's "Connection of
Natural and Divine Truth," pp. 287-9.
[21] P. 177.
[22] Ibid.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Pp. 175-6.
[25] Putting aside workmanship exercised on given material, we may
perceive a gliding of thought from the idea of plan, form, or fashion,
to adaptation, and so onwards to purpose and intention--that is,
conscious adaptation to a designed end.
[26] "Sämmtliche Werke," vol. II., pp. 51, 52.
[27] "Connexion of Natural and Divine Truth," pp. 183-4.
[28] See the work last quoted, pp. 287-9. The Professor substantially
agrees with Lord Brougham's censure before referred to, and considers
Dr. Turton's defence of Paley an insufficient apology.
[29] "Essays and Reviews," 8vo. p. 125.
[q] The general reader may reasonably feel a difficulty in assigning
their proper meaning to terms used in senses so technical. He may
possibly be assisted by looking over the field of view thus:--A Force
is visible to us as a movement in Nature;--when we try to formulate it
intelligently to ourselves, its mental equivalent is Law. If, then,
we wish to describe an intelligent præ-conception of Law (such as
distinctly involves the Foresight of its operation) we call the Law
a Creative Idea, or (less definitely) a Design. Tracing the chain of
causation in the reverse or downward direction, the Idea when put in
movement appears to our mind's eye as Law; and when we wish to include
its actual working upon the realm of Nature we term it a Force.
Both James Mill and his son (a truly affectionate annotator), are
careful to point out that the essence of moral causation involves
Intention--that is (as Mr. Mill explains), Foresight, or expectation of
consequences.--"Analysis of the Human Mind," II., 400, 401.
It should be observed that in many branches of Natural Science the
word Law is so employed as to include the conception of Force. Law
is in this usage not merely a logical formula expressive of realized
facts, but it involves the idea of the coercion or impellent motion
which brought those facts into being. "Thus, then," says Dr. Carpenter,
"whilst no Law, which is simply _a generalisation of phenomena_, can be
considered as having any _coercive_ action, we may assign that value
to Laws which express _the universal conditions of the action of a
Force_, the existence of which we learn from the testimony of our own
consciousness." He had before remarked that "it is the substitution of
the Dynamical for the mere Phenomenal idea, which gives their highest
value to our conceptions of the Order of Nature."--_Address to British
Association at Brighton, August, 1872._ This _Order_ of Nature, as the
learned President says in conclusion, is no "sufficient account of its
_Cause_."
[30] See how the matter appears to a Satirist:--"By the great variety
of theories here alluded to, every one of which, if thoroughly
examined, will be found surprisingly consistent in all its parts; my
unlearned readers will perhaps be led to conclude that the creation
of a world is not so difficult a task as they at first imagined. I
have shown at least a score of ingenious methods in which a world
could be constructed; and I have no doubt that had any of the
philosophers above quoted the use of a good manageable comet, and the
philosophical warehouse, _chaos_, at his command, he would engage
to manufacture a planet as good, or, if you will take his word for
it, better than this we inhabit." Such is the dictum of the profound
Knickerbocker,--"History of New York," 8vo, p. 16. His variety
of theories concludes with that of "the renowned Dr. Darwin," of
Lichfield. If the history were brought down to our day, additional
variety might be given to this part of it.
[r] It is upon this confusion that Powell charges Pantheistic theories
in which physical speculations are mistakenly supposed to have their
natural termination. See Additional Note D, where the passage to which
more than one reference has already been made, is given _in extenso_.
Compare also our Chapter VI. on Causation.
[31] Essay as above, p. 165.
[32] The signification attached by the Professor to Law and Cause may
be most readily explained by a similitude. Let the physical series of
antecedents and consequents be represented by a chain of which we see
the present links, but both its beginning and its end are invisible.
Physical law is this chain. Cause must not be considered its first
link, for Cause differs in _kind_ from the series, is in truth _sui
generis_, and can be illustrated by no physical phenomenon, but by
the fact of our own Moral Volition. Cause, therefore, is external to
the chain, and originates, not only the first, but every link of it.
Each and all--nay, the universal chain in its entirety--may be viewed
as owing its existence to one single fiat of an absolute moral Cause.
Compare on this subject Chapters VI. and VII. ensuing.
[33] Essay, pp. 155, 173. It should, however, be observed that
Sterling's language has been interpreted two opposite ways, and
therefore the obscurity may be verbal. Coleridge's expressions have
regard to certain "so-called _Demonstrations_." His own judgment as to
the cumulative proofs of Theism was that "there are so many convincing
reasons for it, within and without--a grain of sand sufficing, and
a whole universe at hand to echo the decision!--that for every mind
not devoid of all reason, and desperately conscience-proof, the
Truth which it is the least possible to prove, it is little less
than impossible not to believe; only indeed just so much short of
impossible, as to leave some room for the will and the moral election,
and thereby to keep it a truth of religion, and the possible subject of
a commandment."--_Aids to Reflection_, Edition 1843, Vol. I. p. 135.
First and rare edition, p. 177.
[34] "There is thus no alternative, but either to abandon the inquiry
after an immediate intuition of power, or to seek for it in _mind
as determining its own modifications_; a course open to those who
admit an immediate consciousness of self, and to them only. My first
and only presentation of power or causality is thus to be found in
my consciousness of _myself as willing_. In every act of volition,
I am fully conscious that it is in my power to form the resolution
or to abstain; and this constitutes the presentative consciousness
of free-will and of power. Like any other simple idea, it cannot
be defined; and hence the difficulty of verbally distinguishing
causation from mere succession. But every man who has been conscious
of an act of will, has been conscious of power therein; and to one
who has not been so conscious, no verbal description can supply the
deficiency."--_Prolegomena Logica_, p. 151.
[s] It seems singular that this rise of thought has of late years
seldom been explicitly put forward as the natural continuation and
necessary extension of the argument from Design. "He that planted the
ear, shall He not hear? He that formed the eye, shall He not see?... He
that teacheth man knowledge, _shall not He know?_" In other words, if
we may argue from the structure of the eye and ear to an Intelligence
which comprehends our sense-perceptions, their conditions, and their
activities, may we not always argue from the reason of man to an
Intelligence comprehending our highest human endowments?
If so, we reflect these attributes back upon our explanation of the
natural world. We say, further, that such a Creator would never make a
mere _machine_. Humanity was a necessary complement of all that is set
under Man. And thus Francis Bacon's aphorism may be applied in a double
sense,--Man not only interprets Nature to himself--but he affords in
himself a text for her more complete interpretation. Nature and Human
Nature are two correlatives.
[35] Take, as example, the scientific theories on Insanity and its
melancholy accompaniments. How many theorizers seem to justify Sir
William Ellis's old observation, that few of his medical brethren ever
got much notion of Mind?
[36] "Natural Theology attempts to demonstrate the existence of a
personal First Cause, supreme Reason, and Will. The relations of
mankind towards such a Being are called Natural Religion."--_Right and
Wrong_, p. 58.
[37] If any one wishes to convince himself that other meanings proposed
are open to serious objections, let him peruse Max Müller's first
Lecture on the Science of Religion.
[38] Compare Additional Note E, on the extent and divisions of the
Science of Natural Theology.
[39] The Soul, p. 32, seq.
[40] Any strictures of ours on the language employed by Natural
Theologians must be understood as appeals from individual or peculiar
usage to world-wide acceptation and old established custom:--
"Quem penes arbitrium est et jus et norma loquendi."
[41] As regards another important word illustrated in this chapter,
it may be useful to add that the term Analogy is often employed in
a wide or rather vague signification; not only by careless writers,
but by philosophers. There is an important passage in Bacon's Plan of
the Instauratio (prefixed to the Novum Organon) which Wood translates
thus:--"The testimony and information of the senses bears always a
relation to man, and not to the universe, and it is altogether a great
mistake to assert that our senses are the measure of things.
The Latin original for "bears a relation" is "est ex analogiâ," but
Mr. Ellis prefers rendering it by "has reference to," and confirms his
decision by comparing two other Latin phrases;--one, "Materia non est
cognoscibilis nisi _ex analogiâ_ formæ"--the other, "Materia non est
scibilis nisi _in ordine_ ad formam;--ut dicit" (adds Thomas Aquinas)
"Philosophus in primo Physicorum." Mr. Ellis subjoins "That the meaning
of the word Analogy was misconceived by S. Thomas, by Duns Scotus, and
by the schoolmen in general, is pointed out by Zabarella, _De prim.
rerum materiâ_, I. 4."
"Philosophus" means Aristotle, who, however, in the passage referred to
is faithful to his own correct definition of Analogy, and his instance
may readily be stated in four terms, as will appear on reference to the
passage (Ed. Bekker 191, a. 8). Argyropylus translates by "similitudine
rationis," and St. Hilaire explains "analogia" for the benefit of the
general reader by "rapport proportionnel"--(Leçons de Physique I. 8, s.
18).
That Bacon was really thus vague in his use of "ex analogiâ" may be
gathered from his substitution of "in ordine ad" as an equivalent in
the closely related passage, Nov. Org. II. 20. Such being the case with
so great a writer, some little allowance may be made for difference of
phrase employed by ordinary reasoners on Natural Theology.
[42] By way of assisting the young student to a clear perception of
what is involved in our Science, we illustrate its ground-work at
considerable length in an additional note (marked F) on Teleology.
[43] "Die rechte Erkenntniss kann sich erst dann einfinden wenn man
weiss wie man erkennt d. h. wenn man seine eigene Natur begriffen hat."
Page 5 of "Ueber den Ursprung der Sprache," von W. H. J. Bleek.
[44] Macaulay's Essays. Ed. 1852, p. 401.
[45] The division of Sciences into ancillary and "architectonic" is
Aristotelian. It seems also founded in the nature of things. That real
science tends to ground itself, strives after unification with kindred
sciences, and, by so doing, rises into philosophy, is a fact visible
in every line and letter of Faraday; and the general reader will find
it exemplified throughout many fascinating pages of Dr. Tyndall's
_Fragments of Science for Unscientific People_, particularly in his
articles on Vitality, the use of the Imagination, and the life of
Faraday, not to mention his own book on the great inductive philosopher.
[46] It is interesting to compare the French-Scotch, and German-Scotch
types of intellect. The former flowered in the Stuart men and in
David Hume. The latter produced such diversely graven characters
as Sir William Hamilton and Mr. Carlyle. Hume's natural acuteness
received a subtle refinement from his Jesuit educators at La Flêche.
But his intellectual bent and determination was given by the French
parlour-philosophy, which heralded Rousseau and Robespierre. Hume's
well-known face is a truthful index to his mind. If compared with
Kant's, the lesson is obvious to even an unskilled physiognomist.
Self-complacency beams over every feature.
[47] No doubt the actual course of Hume's philosophising was determined
by his zeal against everything he deemed superstitious. It was this
dominant motive which made him less a calm philosopher than a skilful
advocate, and laid him open to the influences of the French Deism of
his period. How strong the tendency was we may infer from the following
anecdote, which occurs in an account of his declining days by his
friend and admirer, Dr. Adam Smith (pp. 47-50):--
Hume had been "reading a few days before, Lucian's Dialogues of the
Dead: among all the excuses which are alleged to Charon for not
entering readily into his boat, he could not find one that fitted
him. He then diverted himself with inventing several jocular excuses,
which he supposed he might make to Charon, and with imagining the very
surly answers which it might suit the character of Charon to return to
them. 'Upon further consideration,' said he, 'I thought I might say to
him, Good Charon, I have been correcting my works for a new edition.
Allow me a little time that I may see how the Public receives the
alterations.' But Charon would answer, 'When you have seen the effect
of these, you will be for making other alterations. There will be no
end of such excuses; so, honest friend, please step into the boat.'
But I might still urge, 'Have a little patience, good Charon; I have
been endeavouring to open the eyes of the Public. If I live a few years
longer, I may have the satisfaction of seeing the downfall of some of
the prevailing systems of superstition.' But Charon would then lose all
temper and decency. 'You loitering rogue, that will not happen these
many hundred years. Do you fancy I will grant you a lease for so long a
term? Get into the boat this instant, you lazy loitering rogue!'"
[48] The "Treatise" was written during his youthful three years'
residence in France, chiefly at La Flêche. Hume was twenty-seven years
old when he published it. See "Life," pp. 6 and 7, and Burton's _Life
of Hume_, Vol. I. pp. 57-124.
[49] This work, the least known of all Hume's writings, but not the
least original, is here cited in the not uncommon reprint 2 vols. 8vo,
1817.
[50] It is curious to compare with both Hume and Bacon a brief
dictum of S. T. Coleridge. Biog. Lit., last chapter. "Poor unlucky
Metaphysics! And what are they? A single sentence expresses the object
and thereby the contents of this science. [Greek: Gnôthi seauton]: et
Deum quantum licet et in Deo omnia scibis. Know thyself: and so shalt
thou know God, as far as is permitted to a creature, and in God all
things. Surely there is a strange--nay, rather a too natural--aversion
in many to know themselves." "People," says Guesses at Truth, "can
seldom brook contradiction, except within themselves."
[51] Compare Advancement. B. II. with De Augmentis. B. III. Chap. iii.
[52] De Augmentis. B. III. Chap. iv.
[53] Advancement. B. II. (Ed. Basil Montague, Vol. II. p. 134). It is
generally an advantage to quote from the enlarged Treatise, the De
Augmentis, but in some places the Advancement is more simple and more
full.
[54] De Augmentis. B. III. Chap. iv. init.
[55] De Augmentis. B. III. Chap. iv. Ellis and Spedding, iv. 362.
[56] "The cone and vertical point" itself is "the work which God
worketh,"--("summariam nempe Naturæ legem")--and "it may fairly be
doubted whether man's inquiry can attain to it. But these three are
the true stages of knowledge." De Augmentis, as before. So too in his
_Valerius_ he speaks of this "highest generality of motion or summary
law of Nature" as reserved by God "within His own curtain."
[57] The great thinker speaks of it as made up in part "of the common
principles and axioms which are promiscuous and indifferent to
several Sciences;" in part "of the inquiry touching the operation of
the relative and adventitious conditions of Essences, as quantity,
similitude, diversity, possibility, and the rest." These he terms
"Transcendentals," and they form a highest kind of philosophical
arrangements, "with this distinction and provision, that they be
handled as they have efficiency in Nature and not logically."
His instances of common principles show how very vaguely this idea
of the first division floated before his mind. Some of them are
axioms mathematically certain and true in more than one province of
philosophy, others are generalized truths obtained by experience or by
comparison of objects diverse in appearance, but to his mind identical
or very similar. Among these latter occurs his celebrated saying, that
"the delight of the quavering upon a stop in music is the same with
the playing of light upon the water";--a thought that haunts us by the
seaside and on the shore of mountain lakes while listening to some
sweet voice or clear-toned instrument.
From his philosophical arrangements Bacon takes away inquiries into the
One, the Good, and the Divine, and assigns them to Natural Theology.
[58] Translation of the De Augmentis in Ellis and Spedding. Vol. iv. p.
346.
[59] Nov. Org. E. and S., iv. 120.
[60] De Augmentis. E. and S., iv. 362.
[61] Kitchin. Nov. Org. p. 134. But Mr. Kitchin believes that could
Bacon have witnessed the actual progress of science, it would have
led him to recognize the usefulness of Final Causes, in the field of
physical inquiry, and by way of illustration proceeds to quote "the
famous case of Harvey's discovery of the circulation of the blood from
the consideration of the Final Causes of the valves in the veins of the
animal body." (Ibid. p. 135.)
[62] Mill's Analysis of the Human Mind. Vol. ii. pp. 310, 11.
[63] In a volume of philosophical Romance some unknown Gulliver
of the 19th century bestows many pages of pleasant satire on the
Utilitarian principle, assumed as a maxim of social life and pushed
to its ultimate conclusions. The author travels into the country of
Nowhere (Erewhon), and learns by personal experience, first in a
prison, and next in the house of a princely swindler Senoj Nosnibor
(_alias_ Jones Robinson) those true laws of Sociology which best
subserve the great final end--the noble object laid down by Mr. Mill.
Ill-health is made criminal. Immorality counts as being out of sorts.
The former is an object of penal justice, the latter of condolence
joined with alterative discipline. The swindler sends for his family
"straightener," and gets well amidst the sympathy of his friends;
the consumptive is condemned to imprisonment and hard labour for the
rest of his miserable days. And this is reasonable in itself, and
justified by the results,--the Erewhonians possess the finest physique
in the world, and rob and embezzle only when they happen to feel
tempted. Our traveller himself, though full of old-fashioned moral
prejudices, becomes convinced by contemplating the great final cause.
"That dislike," he observes, "and even disgust should be felt by the
fortunate for the unfortunate, or at any rate for those who have been
discovered to have met with any of the more serious and less familiar
misfortunes, is not only natural, but desirable for any society,
whether of man or brute: what progress either of body or soul had been
otherwise possible?"--and again, "I write with great diffidence, but
it seems to me that there is no unfairness in punishing people for
their misfortunes or rewarding them for their sheer good luck: it is
the normal condition of human life that this should be done, and no
right-minded person will complain at being subjected to the common
treatment. There is no alternative open to us. It is idle to say that
men are not responsible for their misfortunes. What is responsibility?
Surely to be responsible means to be liable to have to give an answer
should it be demanded, and all things which live are responsible for
their lives and actions, should society see fit to question them
through the mouth of its authorised agent. What is the offence of a
lamb that we should rear it, and tend it, and lull it into security,
for the express purpose of killing it? Its offence is the misfortune
of being something which society wants to eat, and which cannot defend
itself. This is ample. Who shall limit the right of society except
society itself? And what consideration for the individual is tolerable
unless society be the gainer thereby?" Erewhon, pp. 85, 86, and 100,
101.
These sentiments considered, the reader will not be surprised to learn
that our author, after a preparatory college training in the main
doctrines of Self-interest--to wit, Evasion and Inconsistency--ends
happily and usefully for himself by the successful abduction of his
host's daughter--and by advertising a propaganda of certain European
manners and observances unknown in Erewhon, to be carried out by
kidnapping its healthy inhabitants and training them properly on our
sugar plantations. What genuine disciple of Utilitarianism can conceive
a brighter moral triumph than the union of private self-interest with
the interested aims of a great sugar-growing people? Matter-of-fact
Baconians may argue that Utility substitutes a misplaced and one-sided
"why" for the "what" required by Moralists,--but our traveller's
answer is plain--he argues on _data_;--given the premises--his is the
inevitable conclusion. The defence of the former will be an interest
to plenty of people--philosophic and unphilosophic. Leave the data to
them; or if necessary make a further appeal to the religious aims of
society. In Erewhon the great feminine Divinity Ydgrun is supreme; she
is sovereign amongst ourselves also;--only we twist her name and call
the Goddess "Grundy."
[64] Preface to the Philosophical Works. pp. 56, 57.
[65] Works. Vol. i. p. 167.
[66] De Augmentis. iii. 5. init.
[67] Dr. Whewell rises into poetry--yet is not more poetical than
the philosopher on whom he thus comments. "If he" (Bacon) "had had
occasion to develop his simile, full of latent meaning as his similes
so often are, he would probably have said, that to these final causes
barrenness was no reproach, seeing they ought to be, not the mothers
but the daughters of our natural sciences; and that they were barren,
not by imperfection of their nature, but in order that they might
be kept pure and undefiled, and so fit ministers in the temple of
God."--_Bridgewater Treatise._ B. III. Ch. vii. sub. fin.
[68] It is a pleasure to confirm this paragraph by a definition of
Design taken from a writer who must be frequently quoted in these
pages, because his philosophy is of unusually wide scope, and embraces
the mixed sciences employed by a natural theologian:--"We direct our
thoughts to an action which we are about to perform; we _intend_ to
do it: we make it our _aim_: we place it before us, and act with
_purpose_ (_propositum_): we _design_ it, or mark it out beforehand
(_designo_)."--_Whewell's Elements of Morality_, Book I., Chap. i., p.
7.
[69] The Soul, p. 35.
[70] _Right and Wrong_, p. 31.
[71] Dans plusieurs passages de ses écrits, quand il insiste avec le
plus de force sur l'impossibilité où est la raison humaine d'atteindre
à la certitude, il semble tout près d'accepter la révélation divine
comme source de certaines grandes verités que nous ne saurions
repousser, quoiqu'il ne nous soit pas possible de les démontrer. Un
soir qu'à Paris il soupait chez le baron d'Holbach, on vint à parler de
la religion naturelle; Hume déclara que pour sa part il n'avait jamais
rencontré d'athée. On sait la réponse de son hôte. "Parbleu, vous avez
de la chance; pour la première fois vous en rencontrez dix-sept du même
coup." Hume ne demanda point à être compté comme le dix-huitième. Dix
ans auparavant, il se trouvait à Londres lorsque lui arriva la nouvelle
de la mort de sa mère; son ami Boyle, frère du comte de Glasgow, témoin
de la douleur profonde où le jeta cette perte, exprima le regret qu'il
ne pût trouver de consolation dans les croyances chrétiennes sur la
destinée des justes et sur la vie future. "Ah! mon ami," dit Hume
en sanglotant, "je peux bien publier mes spéculations pour occuper
les savans et les métaphysiciens; mais ne croyez pas que je sois si
loin que vous le supposez de penser comme le reste des hommes." _Deux
Mondes_, 1856, Vol. VI., pp. 118, 19. The latter anecdote will be found
in _Burton_ at rather greater length. Vol. I. 293, 4.
[72] These Dialogues were posthumously published in obedience to their
author's will. Hume had kept the MS. by him for twenty-seven years,
and had corrected it from time to time, yet had delayed publication
from deference to the judgment of his friends. He directed his literary
executor, Adam Smith, to publish the Dialogues within two years of his
death; but, in consequence of Smith's distaste for the task, this duty
devolved upon Hume's nephew. They were printed in 1779 translated into
German in 1781, and commented on by Jacobi in 1787.
Lowndes states that these Dialogues were not republished with the
"Essays," but is mistaken in saying so. They appear at the end of
Vol. II. in the 8vo. Edition of 1788. As this is not an uncommon or
expensive book, I quote its paging. The quantity of matter extends only
through 113 8vo. pages, and reference will not be difficult in any
other Edition.
It seems true that the Dialogues were withdrawn from later reprints
of the Essays. They appear to have been considered particularly
objectionable; but there is no doubt that they express Hume's most
deliberate and matured convictions, and thus become to fair inquirers
particularly valuable. It must, however, be added that Hume valued
himself on a conservatism of opinion. Comparing, when forty years old,
his recent Essays with his Treatise "planned before I was twenty-one
and composed before twenty-five," he says, "The philosophical
principles are the same in both; but I was carried away by the heat of
youth and invention to publish too precipitately." _Burton_, I. 337.
[73] There can be no doubt that Cleanthes is meant for the
representative man, both from the tenor of the Dialogue itself and
from a letter to Sir Gilbert Elliot, of Minto, given by _Burton_, I.
331-6. The following extracts may be acceptable to the reader:--"You
would perceive by the sample I have given you, that I make Cleanthes
the hero of the dialogue: whatever you can think of, to strengthen that
side of the argument, will be most acceptable to me. Any propensity you
imagine I have to the other side, crept in upon me against my will; and
'tis not long ago that I burned an old manuscript book, wrote before
I was twenty, which contained, page after page, the gradual progress
of my thoughts on that head. It began with an anxious search after
arguments, to confirm the common opinion; doubts stole in, dissipated,
returned; were again dissipated, returned again; and it was a perpetual
struggle of a restless imagination against inclination, perhaps against
reason.... I could wish Cleanthes' argument could be so analyzed, as
to be rendered quite formal and regular. The propensity of the mind
towards it,--unless that propensity were as strong and universal
as that to believe in our senses and experience,--will still, I am
afraid, be esteemed a suspicious foundation. 'Tis here I wish for your
assistance; we must endeavour to prove that this propensity is somewhat
different from our inclination to find our own figures in the clouds,
our faces in the moon, our passions and sentiments even in inanimate
matter. Such an inclination may, and ought to be controlled, and can
never be a legitimate ground of assent.
"The instances I have chosen for Cleanthes are, I hope, tolerably
happy, and the confusion in which I represent the sceptic seems
natural, but--si quid novisti rectius, etc.... He (Cleanthes)
allows, indeed, in part 2nd, that all our inference is founded on
the similitude of the works of nature to the usual effects of mind,
otherwise they must appear a mere chaos. The only difficulty is, why
the other assimilations do not weaken the argument; and indeed it would
seem from experience and feeling, that they do not weaken it so much as
we might naturally expect."
It seems clear on the whole, that, so far as _Physico-Theology_ went,
Hume was not ill qualified for a Natural Theologian. All the more so
perhaps, because, while seeing the difficulties which attach themselves
to this kind of argument, he pronounced it to hold conclusively at last.
[74] The following quotation is from the _Treatise_ "composed before
twenty-five":--"Nor does this reasoning only prove, that morality
consists not in any relations, that are the objects of science; but
if examined, will prove with equal certainty, that it consists not in
any _matter of fact_, which can be discovered by the understanding.
This is the _second_ part of our argument; and if it can be made
evident, we may conclude, that morality is not an object of reason.
But can there be any difficulty in proving, that vice and virtue are
not matters of fact, whose existence we can infer by reason?... So
that when you pronounce any action or character to be vicious, you
mean nothing, but that from the constitution of your nature you have a
feeling or sentiment of blame from the contemplation of it. Vice and
virtue, therefore, may be compared to sounds, colours, heat and cold,
which, according to modern philosophy, are not qualities in objects,
but perceptions in the mind: and this discovery in morals, like that
other in physics, is to be regarded as a considerable advancement of
the speculative sciences; though, like that too, it has little or no
influence on practice." _Treatise_, Book III., part 1, Vol. II., 170, 1.
This 3rd Book of the _Treatise_ was not printed till Hume was in his
30th year; and he felt some hesitation respecting the latter paragraph.
"Is not this," he asks Hutcheson, "laid a little too strong? I desire
your opinion of it, though I cannot entirely promise to conform myself
to it. I wish from my heart I could avoid concluding, that since
morality, according to your opinion, as well as mine, is determined
merely by sentiment, it regards only human nature and human life.... If
morality were determined by reason, that is the same to all rational
beings; but nothing but experience can assure us that the sentiments
are the same. What experience have we with regard to superior beings?
How can we ascribe to them any sentiments at all? They have implanted
those sentiments in us for the conduct of life like our bodily
sensations, which they possess not themselves." (_Burton_, I. 119.) The
paragraph was, however, published; and helped by consequence to foster
in its author's mind that Utilitarian theory of morals respecting
which many late writers have been only Hume's copyists. In this very
_Treatise_ he did in fact apply that theory to the most important of
Social questions (see same Bk., Pt. II. Sec. 12, more especially p.
299), and was thus led into lax conclusions respecting those bonds
between Man and Woman which underlie the other foundations of Society.
Hume shares this blame with his disciples; for leading Utilitarians are
apt to shew by their own domestic relations that the principle, _when
applied_, results in maxims lower than our present English tone of
thought upon this subject.
But let us suppose that Hume had lived to analyze Rousseau's
Confessions. Would he not have urged with the force of truth, that
to animalize a Man is to destroy his Manhood, to weaken his judgment
and impair his Moral sense? Would he not have argued from Rousseau
the depraved boy, to Rousseau the shopman and footman, and pointed
out that in such cases Truth, Honesty, and Gratitude become mere
names and shadows?--No one could have replied that Hume was wrong in
fact and experience, but some might have said that _all_ which lowers
the supremacy of the Moral sense lowers the Manhood of Man. As Hume
admitted the fact of a Moral sense, he might possibly have felt the
cogency of this argument.
[75] No one who reads Hume's account of his own motives on various
occasions will think it untrue to say that his judgment was largely
influenced by his vanity. Compare for example his well-known letter to
Dr. Blair of December 20th, 1765, with another to the same, dated 1st
July, 1766;--the first a panegyric on the "celebrated Rousseau," the
second a fierce invective against that "blackest and most atrocious
villain." Who can help seeing that the motives of the eulogy are
derived from a series of self-gratulations;--while the cause of the
invective is a sharp wound given to the philosopher's self-love?
[76] In the _Inquiry concerning Human Understanding_, Section XI.,
he puts this case: "As the universe shows wisdom and goodness, we
infer wisdom and goodness. As it shows a particular degree of these
perfections, we infer a particular degree of them, precisely adapted
to the effect which we examine. But farther attributes or farther
degrees of the same attributes, we can never be authorized to infer or
suppose, by any rules of just reasoning." The argument of this section
upon which Hume's limitations are based, is put into the mouth of a
representative Epicurus; it is acute even to extreme subtlety, but it
is also suicidal. The restraints applied to what he explains as the
argument from effects to cause, and conversely down again from cause
to other effects, cannot be maintained without dealing a death blow
at the Inductive Philosophy. How little do we know of the material
Universe, yet we apply the principle of gravitation to the Whole, seen
and unseen. By its aid we find masses of radiant matter previously
unknown, and predict events long before they are phenomenally apparent.
The vast power of _extending_ knowledge which the Inductive principle
asserts, will occur for our investigation in Chapter IV. Another
Epicurean position contained in this same Section XI. has been quoted
in a previous note, together with Hume's own reply to it; see pp. 101,
2 _ante_.
A criticism of Hume's Tenth and Eleventh sections occupies a long note
appended by Lord Brougham to his "Discourse on Natural Theology"--a
volume I suppose accessible to almost all students of the science.
[77] The word Creation must here be construed strictly, so as to
signify a true Beginning;--the idea that is of a law-governed _materies
mundi_, a substantial force, and movement evoked into primary Existence.
The prospect of final change yet to be, is thus similarly connected by
a living philosopher (Helmholtz) with the history of our world's Past:--
"We estimate the duration of human History at 6,000 years; but
immeasurable as this time may appear to us, what is it in comparison
with the time during which the earth carried successive series of
rank plants and mighty animals, and no men; during which in our
neighbourhood the amber-tree bloomed, and dropped its costly gum on
the earth and in the sea; when in Siberia, Europe, and North America
groves of tropical palms flourished; where gigantic lizards, and after
them elephants, whose mighty remains we still find buried in the
earth, found a home? Different geologists, proceeding from different
premises, have sought to estimate the duration of the above-named
creative period, and vary from a million to nine million years.----The
time during which the earth generated organic beings is again small
when compared with the ages during which the world was a ball of fused
rocks. For the duration of its cooling from 2,000° to 200° Centigrade
the experiments of Bishop upon basalt show that about 350 millions of
years would be necessary.----And with regard to the time during which
the first nebulous mass condensed into our planetary system, our most
daring conjectures must cease. The history of man, therefore, is but
a short ripple in the ocean of time.----For a much longer series of
years than that during which he has already occupied this world, the
existence of the present state of inorganic nature favourable to the
duration of man seems to be secured, so that for ourselves and for
long generations after us we have nothing to fear. But the same forces
of air and water, and of the volcanic interior, which produced former
geological revolutions, and buried one series of living forms after
another, act still upon the earth's crust. They more probably will
bring about the last day of the human race than those distant cosmical
alterations of which we have spoken, forcing us perhaps to make way for
new and more complete living forms, as the lizards and the mammoth have
given place to us and our fellow-creatures which now exist.
"Thus the thread which was spun in darkness by those who sought a
perpetual motion has conducted us to a universal law of nature, which
radiates light into the distant nights of the beginning and of the
end of the history of the universe. To our own race it permits a long
but not an endless existence; it threatens it with a day of judgment,
the dawn of which is still happily obscured. As each of us singly
must endure the thought of his death, the race must endure the same.
But above the forms of life gone by, the human race has higher moral
problems before it, the bearer of which it is, and in the completion
of which it fulfils its destiny." Helmholtz, _Popular Lectures on
Scientific Subjects_, p. 191, seq.
The distinguished German had just before observed, "Even though the
force store of our planetary system is so immensely great ... still
the inexorable laws of mechanics indicate that this store of force,
which can only suffer loss and not gain, must be finally exhausted."
On the subject of such vast cosmical changes, the reader may like to
peruse the remarks of _Littré_ in his most recent volume--"Les choses,
ou, pour mieux dire, nos choses sont d'hier, dût cet hier comporter de
prodigieuses durées.
"Cette nouveauté est un témoignage que notre monde, notre univers,
auront une fin. Ce qui a commencé doit finir, la raison le dit, et
toutes nos connaissances physiques le confirment. Le soleil et les
étoiles se refroidissent incessamment, versant dans les espaces une
chaleur qui ne leur revient jamais. Quelque chauds qu'ils soient,
ils le sont chaque jour un peu moins, le calorique s'y épuisera;
ils s'éteindront, comme déjà leurs planètes se sont éteintes. Que
deviendront ces masses animées d'un mouvement rapide? Nul ne peut le
dire. Mais il suffirait d'un choc entre elles pour y transformer un
prodigieux mouvement en une prodigieuse incandescence, et y renouveler
un cycle de chaleur et d'expansion.
"Ce serait se perdre en vaines et gratuites hypothèses, que de spéculer
sur ce que deviendra notre univers quand il aura pris fin, comme de
spéculer sur ce qu'il fut avant qu'il eût pris commencement." Littré,
_La Science_, pp. 560, 1.
There are thinkers who believe that these cycles, immeasurable to Man,
took their governing laws from a supreme Designer. They will be aided
by Helmholtz and Littré in shaping their ideas of His far-reaching
wisdom and power. There are also thinkers who find within their own
inward Being a consciousness of kinship with the Source of Causation,
so infinitely beyond cycles apparently infinite. How great then the
value of human Spirits bearing His likeness, and with it a promise
of surviving the period when our world's cycles shall vanish away in
Space--to be replaced by other hereditary cycles, or to be remembered
no more for ever!
[78] This article has been lately reprinted in a volume of "Critiques
and Addresses," and Leibniz's censure of Newton will be found on p.
323. It may be convenient for some readers to be informed that the
Correspondence between Clarke and Leibniz to which I have referred will
be found at the end of Erdmann's Opera Leibnitii (Berlin, 1840), a
portable and useful Edition. The sentences quoted by me are on page 747.
[79] J. Müller.
[80] Kant.
[81] Philosophy of Discovery, Chap. XXX. 23, pp. 369-70.
[82] It is necessary to observe the Professor's limitations.
[83] They have been noted before. In this place it is necessary to
examine the following instances.
[84] Critiques, p. 306.
[85] Lay Sermons, p. 373.
[86] Critiques, p. 281.
[87] Ibid. 349.
CHAPTER III.
CONDITIONS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE.
"The words which the great German poet put into the mouth of
Mephistopheles when describing himself to Faust, afford perhaps
the most concise and forcible statement of what we may call the
anti-scientific spirit:--
'Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint,
Dem alles, was entsteht, zuwider ist.'
The true spirit of science is certainly affirmative, not negative; for,
as I mentioned just now, its history teaches us that the development
of our knowledge usually takes place through two or more simultaneous
ideas of the same phenomenon, quite different from one another, both of
which ultimately prove to be parts of some more general truth; so that
a confident belief in one of those ideas does not involve or justify
a denial of the others."--_Address of the President of the British
Association_, 1873-4. p. 13.
"Philosophy is but wise and disciplined thought upon the subjects
on which all men think. The minds of men, left to their own natural
working, will never cease to think on these things; and if Philosophy
should cease to attempt to think wisely on them, she abandons her
position as a guide. She has been to blame for the carelessness of her
procedure, for the overweeningness of her pretensions. But the remedy
is soberness, not scepticism. Is it, after all, an evil, that in some
directions we fail to attain certainty by mere thinking?... As in
nature, the picture you see is not broad light and dark, but a thousand
tender tones and hues melting into each other, and vibrating together
between the light and dark: so is the mind of man." Archbishop of
York--on _The limits of Philosophical Inquiry_, pp. 25-26.
"To the _knowledge_ of the most contemptible _effect_ in nature, 'tis
necessary to know the whole _Syntax_ of Causes, and their particular
_circumstances_, and _modes_ of action. Nay, we _know nothing_, till we
_know ourselves_, which are the summary of all the world without us,
and the _Index_ of the Creation." Glanvill, _Vanity of Dogmatizing_,
Chap. xxii. Ed. 1. p. 217.
"A branching channel, with a mazy flood?
The purple stream that through my vessels glides,
Dull and unconscious flows, like common tides:
The pipes through which the circling juices stray,
Are not that thinking I, no more than they:
This frame compacted with transcendent skill,
Of moving joints obedient to my will,
Nurs'd from the fruitful glebe, like yonder tree,
Waxes and wastes; I call it mine, not me."
_Dr. Arbuthnot._
"'To the eye of vulgar Logic,' says he, 'what is man? An omnivorous
Biped that wears Clothes. To the eye of Pure Reason what is he? A
soul, a Spirit, and divine Apparition. Round his mysterious Me, there
lies, under all those wool-rags, a Garment of Flesh (or of Senses),
contextured in the Loom of Heaven; whereby he is revealed to his like,
and dwells with them in UNION and DIVISION; and sees and fashions
for himself a Universe, with azure Starry Spaces, and long Thousands
of Years. Deep-hidden is he under that strange Garment; amid Sounds
and Colours and Forms, as it were, swathed in, and inextricably
over-shrouded: yet it is skywoven, and worthy of a God. Stands he not
thereby in the centre of Immensities, in the conflux of Eternities? He
feels; power has been given him to Know, to Believe; nay does not the
spirit of Love, free in its celestial primeval brightness, even here,
though but for moments, look through? Well said Saint Chrysostom, with
his lips of gold, "the true SHEKINAH is Man:" where else is
the GOD'S-PRESENCE manifested not to our eyes only, but to
our hearts, as in our fellow man?'"--_Sartor Resartus_, Chap. x. Pure
Reason.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER III.
This Chapter may be characterized as a parallel between the
difficulties alleged to be fatal against Theism, and the difficulties
attaching to very various departments of human knowledge, embracing
its most necessary and its most certainly accepted kinds. From this
parallel the conclusion becomes evident, that whoever accepts one
set of truths cannot be debarred by these or similar difficulties
from accepting the higher truth likewise. That such an acceptance
is natural and valid appears further evident from the fact that a
knowledge of God belongs to the class of Practical beliefs, and is
enforced by the same reasonable necessity. This topic forms the
transition to Chapter IV. on "Our Reasonable Beliefs."
The same inferences are also stated in a _destructive_ form, _e.g._,
Should a thinker choose to deny the possibility of Theism, he ought
(if consistent) to deny all those truths which stand or fall by a
parallel set of reasonings. But by doing this he lands himself in
a state of doubt, so extreme and thorough, that the whole Universe
becomes a rayless blank.
A corollary is added on Materialism.
_Analysis_--Man the interpreter of Nature. Nature _gives_ by answering
our interrogations; these must depend on our powers of assimilating
knowledge. Some questions inevitable, _e.g._, What are the first
grounds of Truth?
Has Man any faculty of apprehending the Infinite? Can we know our own
Personality or that of others?--or any Thing in itself? Inference
against Scepticism based on human ignorance.
Fallacy of the Unthinkable or Inconceivable. Ideas of Self and
not-Self, inexplicable, yet undoubted. From things as they are, let us
turn to things as they appear. How do we perceive, hear, see?
Perception as an instrument of Intelligence, inscrutable. We
acknowledge the insoluble mystery but accept the fact.
Marvels of eyesight, and their problems. How much and what do we see?
Comparison with Sound;--Form, Colour, Tone. Evidence on which we
receive sense impressions. Comparison between healthy and diseased
sensations,--between our organs of sense and those of animals. We soon
arrive at a twilight territory of knowledge and can explain no more.
Imperfections in our powers of Verification. How great is the
subjective Element in our perceptions? Idealism,--most difficult
to answer when most extreme. Philosophic denial of all proof of
external things as distinguished from Mind (_e.g._, by Mill).
Fact-knowledge, and absurdities involved in the ordinary method
of defining and alleging Facts. Polar tendencies of Phenomenalism
which take the shapes of Idealism and Positivism, resulting in
Nihilism or Indifferentism. The end of these things! Mr. Herbert
Spencer on Theology, compared with Mr. Huxley, and criticized by Mr.
J. Martineau, who denies that the Unknowable can be any object of
religious feeling,--a protest strongly maintained by Mr. J. S. Mill.
The difficulties attending every kind of knowledge paralleled with
the difficulties alleged against Theism. If the Inexplicable be also
the Unknowable, there is an end to all knowledge. We cannot predicate
veracity of our human Mind, we cannot even know that we know anything.
Mr. J. S. Mill accepts Mind as an inexplicable Fact underlying all
other Facts and Beliefs. We _must_ accept _ultimate_ Truths.
Transition to Chapter IV. on the affirmative evidence for our
Reasonable Beliefs.
Corollary on Materialism. Far more difficult than its antithesis.
Conclusion to be drawn from these difficulties.
_Additional Notes and Illustrations._
A.--Account of some theories respecting our Personal Identity.
B.--Helmholtz, Popular Lectures on Recent Progress of the Theory of
Vision.
C.--Helmholtz on Specialties of Sensibility.
D.--Popular account of Pure Idealism with critical remarks.
E.--On the Relations of Fact and Theory.
F.--On the "Unknowable."
G.--Mr. J. S. Mill as an Independent Moralist.
_Additions to Corollary._
Note H.--Archebiosis, or Spontaneous Generation. I.--On Materialism.
CHAPTER III.
CONDITIONS OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE.
Is the great Book of Nature--the world we live in--a closed or open
book to Man? On this question all have thought often,--and many have
written much,--students--men of science--religious teachers--poets, and
philosophers.
We ask this question of ourselves variously circumstanced, and under
various impulses. We ask it if, like Æschylus' watchman, we contemplate
"The congress of the nightly stars
Bright potentates, set proudly in the sky."
Or when we sail upon a sea made solemn by its vastness, dying in far
distance, with no boundary except itself, as each swelling wave rises
against the sky. We ask it, on some stately mountain top looking down
over light and shadow,--over the rest and the motion of the landscape.
More earnestly still, perhaps, while from the depth of a twilight
valley we admire the sunset lingering upon inapproachable alpine
snows;--rosy heights unveiling their loveliness, yet soon to be hidden
till the Light of this lower world shall shine afresh amongst their
clefts and pinnacles.
And who is not in earnest, as sunset and sunrise remind him how
the majestic clock of Time moves on? Yonder glorious luminary has
warmed with form and life countless organisms, scattered over
mountain summits, in ocean depths, through wild savannahs and
forests;--organisms throughout regions of earth, water, air, so remote
and inaccessible that their wonderful excellence of beauty has never
been beheld by Man's perishable eye. Knowing, as we cannot but know,
how soon our own eyelids must close beneath the sun, we yearn within
our soul, longing for a truer insight into the great Universe above
and beyond us; and for a firmer feeling that we ourselves are an
imperishable part of it. Somewhere in this Universe, must surely be
contained things brighter and better than those we now possess. Else,
why is it clothed so lavishly with half-revealed charms, adapted to
touch our most delicate sympathies, to win us from our worse selves,
and allure us on like willing captives to its loveliness? Awakened in
our senses, awakened in our souls, we desire to know, to feel, and to
attain;--these three impulses become our fixed and enduring aspirations.
But, how? We all remember that Undine sought a soul and found a
sorrow;--a sorrow the more intolerable, because through its burden she
first realized her hard-earned dower of coveted immortality. Yet, as
she truly says, every creature cannot but strive after that which is
naturally higher than itself.
_One_ secret of progress we soon discover. What Nature can give us
depends on what she can tell us. And here is a prevailing motive for
the endeavour to unclose fair Nature's book.
_Another_ step in thought is early taken in our day, though the
civilized world was slow in reaching it. We soon perceive that Nature's
answers must catch their tone and compass from our interrogations. In
numerous sciences, this axiom carries the whole theory and practice of
experiment;--that grand distinction between Bacon's inductive process,
and the induction of the ancient world. In other walks of inquiry,
intellectual and moral, the same truth has grown up and blossomed with
a ruling idea of the crucial or prerogative question: slow in being
framed, and difficult often in the asking, but, when asked, certain to
elicit a reply.
A _third_ postulate is also quickly apparent. Our inquiries must be
subject, for utility's sake, to our power of assimilating knowledge.
And thus our faculty for asking questions is governed by our faculties
for apprehending answers.
The _last_ and paramount requirement is _forced_ upon us. Beyond and
over all, comes the pressure of our own need and private anxiety.
There are many truths which we discern afar off, like features of a
smiling land of promise; and, knowing that they must become one day the
heritage of mankind, we tend towards them without haste, yet without
forgetfulness, and in this temper of mind wait contentedly. But, there
are some truths for which we cannot afford to wait. They concern our
destinies too closely; they are too near our hearts; too influential on
our lives and happiness.
The old question asked in the youth of human philosophy, is the one we
all begin by asking in our first confidence and eagerness of pursuit.
Ask it in what words we may, it always comes to much the same thing;
and if we could answer it, we should answer all questions in one. For,
though we clothe our query with various shapes, and seldom put it in
the form following, its true meaning is, "what are the realities of the
Universe, and what the essential ground of all we see and think?"
It is always worth a thinker's while to look this human problem
more than once in the face. Suppose a faculty[88] for such insight
granted, it must be different in kind, rather than degree, from our
logic of ordinary life. It cannot proceed discursively, abstracting,
generalizing, connecting, deducing. It must know--or look at its object
directly, just as genius knows, images and conveys to other minds, not
through a train of explanatory definition, but by kindling within them
a spark of its own light. If there be such a faculty, it will work, (as
Aristotle[89] says of the Supreme Intellect,) by what seems to us most
like an act of touch; a figure half-shadowed out when we say we grasp
or apprehend a truth; and much as St. Paul speaks, in bidding men to
seek and feel after and find the Lord.
We are not all conscious of such a faculty. But if dim to some, is it
certainly dim to all? Did Plato see farther than Herschel could when he
burst the barriers of the sky? Did Schelling at any time behold what
Hamilton pronounced invisible?[90]
Or again, if not actually ours now,--if those who have asserted it have
spoken in error,--is there a hope that in the Future of Man individual
or collective, he will ever grow up to it? The thought is not unknown
to physicists as well as moralists. In both camps hopeful minds have
conceived the possibility. And, _then_ Mankind will look the secret of
the Universe face to face.
Meanwhile, thinking men have laid siege to the absolute Truth by aid
of such powers as they commonly call into action. For centuries past,
the nature of things in themselves,--and along with (or perhaps above)
all other natures, the "_Self_" within every man has been among the
most fascinating of objects pursued by human thought. Yet, how far
do we really know the life throbbing in every pulse? Can we tell the
secret of our own individuality? We feel it every day;--it endues
us with a separate existence, distinctly several, and apart from
others, and so intensely vivid to ourselves, that we seem in our own
eyes like small centres of the Universe, with men and women,--nay,
worlds and stars,--revolving round us.[91] Yet, strange to say, our
bodies are at all times undergoing change, sufficient in a few years
to eliminate their present frame, and remould a future compound of
gradually assimilated elements. And it seems stranger still, that
while the law of Change rules supreme in these fabrics,--(built to be
continually dissolved and continually built again),--each rude mark and
scar maintains its place; no old wound forgets to ache; no cicatrice
even, nor superficial blemish, dies quite away. We are always changing,
always being transformed; yet, to each of our bodies continues its one
individual configuration; within each of our minds its self-collection,
its memories, its expectations, and its individual consciousness.[t]
Weighing these inconsistencies together, shall we say that, in any
proper sense, we _know_ our own selves? And, if not, can we expect
truly to know the _self_ of anything? May we not travel further, and
inquire whether we can conceive a _self-ness_ of any kind,--whether
the very idea is not to us absolutely inconceivable? And, when this
question is answered as it must be answered, need we feel surprised if
we fall short of conceiving the self-subsistent God? At what value,
therefore, shall we rate sceptical arguments drawn from our failure;
and resting on the fallacious consequence, that the inconceivable (or
unthinkable as some prefer to call it) is likewise the impossible?[u]
That a fallacy really lurks beneath these words,--that the contrary is
true, we know as a matter of fact.[92] We entertain really no doubt
whatever of our own continued sameness, and individual existence. We
are quite sure that our _self-ness_ has, gone on throughout the years
of our natural life. How it first became clear to our inward sense,
is a point confessedly disputable. Some suppose that it existed as
a principle of consciousness,--a kind of primordial instinct in our
minds. Others--that our internal impressions, one and all, formed a
panoramic scene; impressions from without and impressions from within
evenly painted on the retina of the mental eye. Time and comparison
were needful to give us the true distinction. Those who think thus
usually take another step; and add that _resistance_ to our _self-ness_
first informs us of its being. There is resistance to a muscular
sense, somewhat akin to touch, but specialized to feel the kind of
impact given by things impenetrable. There is also a resistance which
thwarts our desires, endeavours, and determinations. Be this as it
may, we never doubt our own identity of being; we never doubt the
_other-ness_ and _outer-ness_ of beings like ourselves, and of objects
beyond number. Yet, that which makes ourselves and them, what we and
they are,--_our_ self-ness and _their_ self-ness--raises a question
we cannot answer; here is, we feel, a something which overpasses our
means of investigation. Men, however, do not stay to discuss such
questions, or to test the origin and limits of intellectual conceptions
before accepting the fact. They do not even ask whether Philosophical
victory sits on the banner of Idealism, pure or constructive; Realism
materialistic or natural;--or whether it crowns any other imaginable
variety of cosmological theorem. We are perfectly sure of our facts;
and no array of possible difficulties whatsoever can prevail to shake
our assurance.
Let us leave for the present, in its native shadows, the central point
of our own self; the original centre of our earliest apparent universe.
Yet, if we cannot _know_ this first growing-point of our individual
life, it may be useful to inquire what can we know _about_ it? can we
learn, for example, how that inner vitality, once begun, is maintained
and fed?--By a process of receiving into itself, (we are told), the
aliment which flows through our senses. We are also told, (as appeared
in the last chapter), how very requisite is a knowledge of _natural_
processes. Let us, then, look at this process of sense-alimentation,
narrowing the problem as much as possible. We have already cut off
_one_ end of it--the germ-point of the _self_-stimulated; and will
now cut off _another_ piece--the assimilation of mental ideas when
elaborated. We simply ask how does this food from without, get _into_
us? The widest avenue of entrance is proverbially our sense of
eyesight. Its information, (as people in general agree, from Horace
down to Mr. Mill), being gathered through many definite impressions,
and received from all distances, is at once the most significant, and
the most commanding. The first step is clear. We see by impinging rays
of light,--movements in a luminiferous ether, making images on the
sensitive network of the eye; a circumstance ascertained by the same
sense of sight which receives the image. From this delicate surface,
begins a second series of movements;--they take place this time in an
organized nerve-material, and are carried, like telegraph-currents, to
the Sensory. Arrived there, we may next suppose that they excite some
new motions, or corpuscular changes. Do we know--_can_ we know any
more? Is the grammar or dictionary written which translates them into
the language of the mind; or teaches us how we have, since our infancy,
worked a perpetual miracle of speech respecting each of them? The eye,
as an optical instrument,[v] is a marvel of science displayed; the eye
as an instrument of intelligence, especially of human intelligence, is
a marvel of inscrutable mystery.
The mysteries of every-day life are the last things dreamed of in
every-day philosophy. When we wake up to their existence, it is
astonishing to find how continually, without being able to explain
things, we can feel, and know them;--know them that is in the sense of
acting intelligently (without theorizing) upon them.
The example we have taken, teaches us several good and important
lessons. There is in it much we can understand; much that we cannot
understand; and a twilight territory between the intelligible and the
non-intelligible. All three are, of course, mixed together when we
speak of sight,--in itself, a matter of every-day experience. So far
as the mechanical construction of an optical chamber goes, everything
seems obvious. We can, likewise, perceive how well contrived is the
apparatus for washing and wiping the outside transparent surface.
Also, the value of its arched hedge against irritants dropping upon
the eyeball from above; and of the arrangements for altering both
axis and focus instantaneously. But what does this instrument enable
us to see? _Not_ the rays of light themselves,--only objects which
they illuminate. The space traversed by rays from all suns and
all stars, remains itself unseen. The ether which fills space is
invisible,--yet its motions make the light of the world.[93] Then,
too, the nervous screen on which these ray movements are received, is
not sensitive to all transmitted undulations. Red excites the optic
nerve by striking it with four hundred and seventy-four _millions of
millions_ of wave-impacts in a single second. Violet strikes it in the
same time with six hundred and ninety-nine _millions of millions_ of
impulses.[94] These two colours are the extremes of the light octave.
In an octave of sound, the highest note vibrates twice as quickly as
the lowest. So too, the shortest wave of violet is half the length of
the longest red wave, and its motion is twice as rapid. But the curious
point is that the human ear receives eleven octaves in the scale of
sound;[95]--the human eye has a range over only one octave in the scale
of light.
Our remarks have carried us over the borders of the twilight
territory,--a circumstance we may ascertain by putting into words what
we think we know, and our reasons for thinking that we know it. If the
eye be in focus, (but not otherwise), a line of light--that is to say
moving imponderable matter of extreme tenuity--so passes through its
transparent liquids as to strike a sensitive spot, and there produce
what is called an image. We apprehend in our minds this image-producing
function as a relation between light and the effect realized. A
relation definite and exact,--in scientific language a "constant";
which we can formulate into optical laws, and thus express with useful
nicety. Taking advantage of the laws thus obtained, and employing
that light-power which everywhere blesses our world, we reproduce the
_like_, image upon a screen. Its likeness we gather from comparison, by
looking into an eye from without. Both images, thus seen by us, are in
point of fact similar sensations.
A philosophic reader may at once perceive what the Idealist will infer
respecting this act of comparison. Neither image--on retina or on
screen--exists apart from the eye. So far as we know, if there were no
eyes there would be no images; and some writers (_e.g._, Schleiden)
have positively affirmed that without eyes all would be, not only to
us, but _in itself_, darkness;--the world absolutely void of Light.
But the truth may be summed in a sentence. Light is not for the eye in
the same sense that the eye is for light. Light is for other things
besides. It exerts its activity on life, animal and vegetable;--on
inorganic substances;--and in other ways likewise.--Going no further
than our screen, we can so manage matters as to engrave and otherwise
fix the image thrown upon it;--in other words our moving line of
imponderable matter will produce further effects, chemical and
mechanical, visible and palpable.
Proceeding to a cross-examination of the knowledge with which we
have credited ourselves, our next business is to try whether we can
verify the objectivity of our optical image. Now it impresses sight
in two respects,--as superficial form--and as colour. The family of
forms is, we are aware widely connected. Sound evokes them. Draw a
violin bow across a string stretched over finely silted sand, and the
different notes will be correlated by a diversity of shapes,[96]
into which the sand will arrange itself. Therefore, we ought to find
means of verifying Form without much difficulty. Indeed we do so
every day satisfactorily; our hands are perpetually demonstrating the
general accuracy of our eyes, and even those delicate instruments our
finger-ends, do not always add much to the information sight has given
us.
But about colour? Distinct colour-waves have (as we said before)
distinct velocities, and are therefore objectively distinguished even
in the inorganic universe. They also act differently upon the growth
of animals and plants,--and other distinctions might be added. The
_sensation_ is, however, our point,--the special thing called colour
both by careful speakers and in child parlance,--what do we really know
about this? Little indeed except as an impression received by sight.
The man born in complete blindness taking a piece of red cloth to
examine, described the fabric minutely; but, when asked if he could say
anything about its redness, likened that "hue angry and brave" to the
sound of a trumpet. A simile most conclusive,--suggested probably by
his having often heard of certain "scarlet-coated gentry";--and proving
beyond doubt that colour is non-existent in the sensory of a person
affected from birth by a deep-seated lesion. To one less thoroughly
blind, spectra are possible, and red light may be produced under
pressure. It thus appears, that colour must be perceived by a nervous
_substratum_, called the rod and cone layer; and hence we explain
our power of distinctly seeing the blood-vessels of the retina lying
immediately before that structure.[97]
These curiosities, of vision shew that our powers of verifying shape
are superior to our powers of verifying colour;[98] add, too, that
the latter sensation, (as an idealist might maintain,) is known to be
sometimes unreal, since it occurs without a coloured object. We can
produce it, for instance, by gazing at the sun--a phenomenon mentioned
by Aristotle. But then, this ideal sense-affection ranges with a
variety of others, which taken together constitute a very much wider
law. Not to mention many superinduced mental states, we see light under
the influence of a touch or blow,--of electricity,--of chemicals, such
as narcotic medicines, which attack the nervous system. We hear sound
under like appliances stimulating the auditory nerve. And the whole of
these affections are to be explained by another Aristotelian doctrine,
extended and pushed to its consequences. Special senses have their own
proper faculties, and when called into action each exerts its power
within its special province. Had Aristotle dissected out nerve-fibres,
he might have discovered the larger empire of specialty now known to
our anatomists.[99]
Idealism easily widens its doubt, to correspond with the dimensions of
the wider nervous law. Does not an aptitude for special impressions,
so stringently determined as to translate the antecedent "blow" into
the consequent, "light" or "sound," disqualify our senses for giving
evidence respecting supposed facts of the outer world? As for the
"distinctive impressibility of the eye," as Mr. Bain[100] describes
colour, it need not be held real except for our own sensorium,[w] and
if colour be a questionable reality, other alleged realities become
questionable too. The world we live in, may be a totally different
world from what we are taught, generation after generation, to believe
it. Who can lay down the limits of what our minds create for themselves
outside us?[101] The mental disease of the madman causes his eye to
see that which is not. Guilt and sickness fill bedchambers with unreal
spectres. Putting disease aside, and taking the case of healthy eye
and healthy mind, it is confessedly difficult to define the exact
province of each. A boy couched by Cheselden[102] saw all things in
one plane; there was no perspective, and objects in the room seemed to
touch his eyeballs. The mind creates perspective, how much then may it
not create? The mind also refuses to surrender its own associations
at the bidding of optical laws. Mr, Wheatstone's ingenious instrument
called the Pseudoscope, brings into play laws which reverse the
impressions of solidity and hollowness. A person looking through it
steadily at the face of a statue sees a hollow mask. The convexity of
feature is gone, and a concave set of features (representing the bust
reversed) is perceived in its stead. But, let the same person gaze
through his pseudoscope ever so long at the face of a human being,
and he will look for a like reversal in vain. The flesh and blood
features refuse to change;--in other words, the mind refuses to yield
its _long-accustomed_ impression.[103] If these things and others
like them are fairly considered, what becomes of our readings in the
unclosed book of Nature? The nature we see is our own thought reflected
back again. Nature's answers take not only tone and compass, but
meaning and utterance from our own interrogations. We think that we are
assimilating knowledge, when we are actually engaged in manufacturing
aliments to suit our own intellectual digestions. The most inward
of all things,--our essential _self_,--at once retired into shadow
when we pursued it; and now, in trying to show how _self_ is fed by
substance from without, we have learned to suspect that all its food is
unsubstantial.[x]
We may henceforth consider ourselves face to face with Sphinx; and
it is well to take the true measure of her lineaments. If the above
reasoning be sound, to know, is to make a mirror and reflect ourselves
back from it. To verify, is to put ourselves in new postures before
our infallible mirror. Each fresh item of induction, is a freshly
reflected phantom. At all events, the contrary position will never
be established. Ignorant as we are, respecting the true centre of
our mental firmament, we must necessarily be always more ignorant
respecting all _possibilities_ which seemingly outlie its glowing
horizon. No one who rationally weighs the worth of a fact, or who
decomposes it into its elementary constituents, will ever be absurd
enough to imagine that he can disprove the ideal theory by proving the
truth of its opposite.
The strongest strain of Idealism comes upon the _last_ sentence. Some
years ago, English philosophers had agreed in the conclusion that all
debates must for the future be settled by an appeal to facts. Could
there be a more happily chosen ground for arbitration?--or one better
suited to the calibre of everybody concerning whose business-like
reflections we might say, with King Henry,--
"His thinkings are below the moon"?
Some inquiring spirits preferred "law," but then they agreed with all
others, (except transcendentalists,) that a law to be valid must also
be a fact.
A belief in this settlement still pervades most non-philosophic
circles. A fact is now-a-days an infallible remedy for the disturbed
mind; just as once
"the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise."
A mind too disturbed to abstain from logical litigation when this
receipt is administered, must certainly be afflicted with monomania.
Nobody, of course, (whether Idealist or Transcendentalist,) need feel
much aggrieved by being called mad. At some time or other, it is the
common lot of all, from a murderer proud of being caught red-handed
in our day, to a Jewish Pharisee and the son of a Pharisee, long ago
departed to his rest. Besides, some madnesses are so fortunate as to
justify themselves, an event now happening to Idealists.[104] In
Germany, France and England, the persuasion gains ground that no tasks
are so difficult as first to define, and secondly to establish a fact.
Now the task of a Natural Theologian, is to establish, (if he can),
the greatest and most solemn of all facts. In order to do his work
honestly, he must ascertain as far as possible the conditions of proof,
the ground on which fact-knowledge reposes. And it will be admitted
that the problem of evidence raised by Idealism, is difficult, crucial,
and underlies all other problems. "The most fundamental questions in
philosophy," says Mr. Mill, "are those which seek to determine what
we are able to know of external objects, and by what evidence we know
it."[105]
This field of inquiry is therefore of the most supreme interest to us.
Idealism possesses an additional attraction for any one who argues
under a belief in the final victory of truth. Both sides of the
argument may be placed in high relief, without incurring the imputation
of bad faith, or worse morality; and thus Idealism furnishes what used
to be sought for during the days of tournaments,--a strictly neutral,
ground.
In this ordeal let no one think a single effort directed
"To crush a butterfly or brain a gnat."
Reasoners on "hard texts" seldom commit any error between premises and
conclusion;--granted the former, the other will surely follow. Most
oversights occur--or are slipped in--over the first postulates.[106]
These generally appear very simple and very true, and pass
unquestioned. Yet, no primary truth can ever be very simple to man,
else why so many conscientious doubters?
What indeed can seem more _simply_ true than the admission of a fact?
Yet facts are often inspissated theories, while many theories are
merely explained facts. One of the greatest authorities on Inductive
Philosophy writes thus (Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences.
Ed. 2. Vol. I. p. 45)--"We are often told that such a thing is _a
Fact_; A FACT and not a Theory, with all the emphasis which,
in speaking or writing, tone or italics or capitals can give. We
see from what has been said, that when this is urged, before we can
estimate the truth, or the value of the assertion, we must ask to whom
is it a Fact? what habits of thought, what previous information, what
Ideas does it imply, to conceive the Fact as a Fact? Does not the
apprehension of the Fact imply assumptions which may with equal justice
be called Theory and which are perhaps false Theory? in which case, the
Fact is no Fact. Did not the ancients assert it as a Fact, that the
earth stood still, and the stars moved? and can any Fact have stronger
apparent evidence to justify persons in asserting it emphatically than
this had?"
The generality of English jurymen might be expected to give an
affirmative verdict. For have they not seen with their own eyes the Sun
rise up in the East, ascend to the top of the sky, and go down in the
West? And is not seeing, believing?
The question, what elements are required to yield the product of
trustworthy perception, phenomenon, or fact, is investigated by Dr.
Whewell through several pages preceding the one from which we have
quoted. After discussing it at length, he writes (p. 42): "And thus,
we have an intelligible distinction of Fact and Theory, if we consider
Theory as a conscious, and Fact as an _un_conscious inference, from the
phenomena which are presented to our senses."
The subject is in itself so singularly interesting that a few more
extracts are added in our Additional Notes.[y] Let the reader, while
perusing them, remember that Idealism once so sovereign in its empire,
is only the other pole of a line of thought which just now happens to
be in the ascendant. Both poles strongly resemble half-truths. And what
is more delusive in evidence than a half-truth, or more perilously
sophisticating to the mind of him who utters it?
The thorough-paced Idealist deals with the presentations of his inner
consciousness, precisely as the Positivist deals with the presentations
of his outer senses. They are _his_ phenomena, his facts. Beyond the
circumstances of their inward occurrence and succession he knows and
can know nothing. You may arrange them into series of antecedents
and consequents,--and then the observation becomes a law,--a law
of association, uniform order, or necessary connection: whichever
you may choose to call it. In one respect, he has an advantage over
the Positivist. No thinker equidistant from both, is likely to deny
that primary facts are for every man, the phenomena most immediately
apparent to his own consciousness.
Amongst ordinary men, however, the reasoning Idealist seldom appears;
the Idealist in feeling and temper is by no means rare. A man weary and
worn by sorrow or old age, thinks and speaks of his life as very like a
dream. And numbers who have exhausted the strength of self-controlling
will, loiter along their way, regardless whether a moving panorama on
each hand is or is not, an unreality. Like travel-tired travellers down
the Danube, or the Rhine, they interweave scenes bright and dark, as
they float by, in one endless train of dimly felt reverie.
The same characteristic holds good in regard to many a Positivist.
Very few people have ever examined those iron wheels, on which the
conclusions of Positively-inclined writers seem to run so rapidly. They
may be flawed--they may be true--hardly any one has thought of sounding
them. But common life has its Positivism, as well as its Chemistry; and
the Positivism of common life is everywhere. It saves labour,--you may
take facts as you find them. It troubles no one,--a Pyrrhonic posture
is the easiest of attitudes. It frees busy people from moral anxieties,
ideal terrors, the shadows of futurity. In short, to men of the world
it is neither more nor less than Indifferentism.
The comparison between these two Nihilistic tendencies might be
pushed farther, but it has been carried far enough for our purpose.
Both sorts, when viewed as principles of practical life, coincide
in yielding the conclusion we now wish to deduce. It is folly to
be deterred from the pursuit of ultimate truth, by any amount of
speculative difficulty whatsoever. And the reason is plain. Practical
truths--the beliefs which affect our hearts and lives--are always
ultimate truths. To give them up, is to give up our highest and
best,--perhaps our all. It is worse than useless to quail before
intellectual obstacles. The Difficult soon begins to appear the
Impossible.
And soon the result ensues, which might naturally be expected. Is it
possible to imagine any discouragement heavier, than the feeling that
we can effect little to acquire a knowledge of truth, goodness, and
God;--a feeling, that do what we will, all we want most--all that
is truly Divine--must remain to us a darkness or a dream? Let any
man think in his heart, that what ought to rule his life, and raise
him higher than his lower self, is a secret unknowable, and he loses
the fear of doing wrong;--for how can he help it?--and the hope of
a brighter and better future;--for how shall he attain it? Then, he
sits down to wrap himself in cynical self-sufficingness. Inevitable
ignorance is soon developed into intellectual Pessimism. The death of
hope and fear, makes the man himself a moral Pessimist. Our conscience,
sympathy, devotion, happiness in higher and in lower things alike,--if
unstirred by vivid emotions--must become dull and blunted. Next follows
"The waveless calm, the slumber of the dead;"--
a state of suspended animation, broken only by fierce stimulants--the
galvanisms of, our lower life. These are succeeded, in due course, by
spasmodic susceptibilities, which demand at no distant day the anodyne
and the narcotic. And--
"Oh, that way madness lies!"--
Therefore we repeat it,--and it cannot too often or too earnestly be
repeated,--let no man excuse himself from the pursuit of practical
truth[z] by any amount of speculative difficulty whatsoever. It
would be a false optimism to say there is no difficulty in thinking
truly;--to represent its difficulties as trifles;--or to forget the
painful fact that they beset our age of cold erudite criticism, like
pitfalls in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. But, must not all things
really great and good be toilsome to men who are neither very good nor
very great? And have we not, every one of us, who tries to be good, our
proper fields of hard yet repaying work? The bee gathers honey where
one idle schoolboy sees only thorns and briers--and where another sucks
poison.
In our days, Doubt is thorough. So thorough, that it soon ceases to be
doubt, and the mind passes quickly from its dim twilight to a rayless
blank. Mr. Herbert Spencer puts the case of Theology as follows (First
Principles p. 43): "Criticising the essential conceptions involved
in the different orders of beliefs, we find no one of them to be
logically defensible. Passing over the consideration of credibility,
and confining ourselves to that of conceivability, we see that Atheism,
Pantheism, and Theism, when rigorously analysed, severally prove to be
absolutely unthinkable." These three conceptions the writer does in
fact analyse after his own fashion,--briefly first, pp. 30-36,--and
further on argues the whole question _in extenso_. The result, of
course, is that all three "beliefs" must finally be abandoned. What
then becomes of the Absolute ground, or First Cause of all things?
Spencer is too clear-sighted not to acknowledge that there must
in reason be a First, and an Absolute. "M. Herbert Spencer," says
Ravaisson,[107] "en proclamant la grande maxime que nous ne connaissons
rien que de relatif, a fait cependant une réserve importante. L'idée
même du relatif, remarque-t-il, ne saurait se comprendre sans celle
à laquelle elle est opposée. Et nous concevons, en effet, au delà
de toutes les relations de phénomènes, l'absolu: c'est ce quelque
chose qui est placé au delà de toute science, et qui est l'objet de
la religion; quelque chose seulement de mystérieux, d'obscur, sur
quoi on ne peut avoir, selon M. Spencer, aucune lumière." The last
negative clause is amply justified on p. 113 of "First Principles." "By
continually seeking to know, and being continually thrown back with a
deepened conviction of the impossibility of knowing, we may keep alive
the consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom and our highest
duty to regard that through which all things exist as The Unknowable."
And this closing word becomes with Spencer, the constant name of a
Power, the consciousness, of which is "manifested to us through all
phenomena."[108]
Such a position, maintained by such a writer, has of course met with
ample consideration. Mr. Huxley appears to have arrived at a somewhat
similar conclusion. Of Religion he says,[109] "Arising, like all other
kinds of knowledge, out of the action and interaction of man's mind,
with that which is not man's mind, it has taken the intellectual
coverings of Fetishism or Polytheism; of Theism or Atheism; of
Superstition or Rationalism. With these, and their relative merits
and demerits, I have nothing to do; but this it is needful for my
purpose to say, that if the religion of the present differs from that
of the past, it is because the theology of the present has become more
scientific than that of the past; because it has not only renounced
idols of wood and idols of stone, but begins to see the necessity of
breaking in pieces the idols built up of books and traditions and
fine-spun ecclesiastical cobwebs, and of cherishing the noblest and
most human of man's emotions, by worship 'for the most part of the
silent sort' at the altar of the Unknown and Unknowable."
Concerning this general idea (or negation of Idea) Mr. J. Martineau has
made antagonistic observations, by way of criticism on Mr. Spencer's
book. "To say," he writes,[110] "that the First Cause is wholly
removed from our apprehension is not simply a disclaimer of faculty on
our part; it is a charge of inability against the First Cause too....
And in the very act of declaring the First Cause incognizable, you do
not permit it to remain unknown. For that only is unknown, of which
you can neither affirm nor deny any predicate; here you deny the power
of self-disclosure to the 'Absolute,' of which therefore something
is known;--viz., that nothing can be known," And again with much
force,[111] "You cannot constitute a religion out of mystery alone,
any more than out of knowledge alone; nor can you measure the relation
of doctrines to humility and piety by the mere amount of conscious
darkness which they leave. All worship, being directed to what is
_above_ us and transcends our comprehension, stands in presence of a
mystery. But not all that stands before a mystery is worship."[aa]
Mr. Mill (doing battle with another antagonist) denies every attribute
claiming faith and worship, to the idea of a _morally Unknowable_ God.
The passage occurs in his Examination of Hamilton, pp. 123-4. "If,
instead of the 'glad tidings' that there exists a Being in whom all
the excellences which the highest human mind can conceive, exist in a
degree inconceivable to us, I am informed that the world is ruled by a
being whose attributes are infinite, but what they are we cannot learn,
nor what are the principles of his government, except that 'the highest
human morality which we are capable of conceiving' does not sanction
them; convince me of it, and I will bear my fate as I may. But when I
am told that I must believe this, and at the same time call this being
by the names which express and affirm the highest human morality, I say
in plain terms that I will not. Whatever power such a being may have
over me, there is one thing which he shall not do: he shall not compel
me to worship him."[ab]
Now, suppose that instead of siding on this occasion with Mill and
Martineau, we were to accept the alternative offered by Spencer and
Huxley. Would this surrender of Natural Theology--or rather of all
Theology--necessitate in reason any _other_ vast surrender also? We
have already answered in the affirmative. The surrender would penetrate
every field of knowledge and of thought. We have already shewn this.
For, the thread binding the present section into a connected whole
runs thus: Survey the conditions of interrogating, _first_, nature;
_secondly_, our own highest nature; _next_, our senses; _finally_, our
consciousness; and _add_ to them the enormous difficulties which attend
every step taken in compliance with those indispensable _conditions_.
Indispensable, that is, to our knowing anything, of any sort, in any
way whatsoever. You have, then, no right to isolate Theism. It is
false logic, to speak of the intellectual difficulties attaching to
our apprehension of the Deity, as if they were substantial objections.
In this respect, Theism stands within the same category of speculative
perplexity, and reasonable necessity, as do other supreme truths.[112]
Put the case to the judgment of Reason, once for all. If we agreed
to accept Herbert Spencer's position, we should consent to deny that
anything can be known of an Absolute. And the denial would proceed
upon _this_ maxim:--"whatsoever is inexplicable is also unknowable."
Consider, now, what other ultimate truths would fall into the same
tomb-like Category. We must silence all human utterance respecting all
first grounds;--our own individuality;--and every object of reason
which becomes inconceivable, when we attempt to define it by the
processes of ordinary logic. All utterance respecting our own senses
and sensations;--our own existence, as beings distinct from a world of
beings and things really existing outside us.
In fine, we could never know that we _know_ either anything or nothing;
for, we should have silenced the deepest of all utterances,--_the_ one
upon which all truth and reason depend. We should have relegated our
Mind along with our God, to the same abysmal gulf of the Unknowable.
Henceforth, we could predicate of Mind nothing essential to purposes of
knowledge,--and least of all essentials,--Veracity.
Mr. Mill closes his laborious endeavours to explain our natural belief
in Mind as follows: "The truth is, that we are here face to face with
that final inexplicability, at which, as Sir W. Hamilton observes, we
inevitably arrive when we reach ultimate facts; and in general, one
mode of stating it only appears more incomprehensible than another,
because the whole of human language is accommodated to the one, and
is so incongruous with the other, that it cannot be expressed in any
terms which do not deny its truth. The real stumbling-block is perhaps
not in any theory of the fact, but in the fact itself. The true
incomprehensibility perhaps is, that something which has ceased, or is
not yet in existence, can still be in a manner, present: that a series
of feelings, the infinitely greater part of which is past or future,
can be gathered up, as it were, into a single present conception,
accompanied by a belief of reality. I think, by far the wisest thing
we can do, is to accept the inexplicable fact, without any theory of
how it takes place; and when we are obliged to speak of it in terms
which assume a theory, to use them with a reservation as to their
meaning."[113] Two pages further he ingenuously adds: "I do not profess
to have adequately accounted for the belief in Mind." In other words,
the perplexities remain on Mill's system as they do on all systems.
But the Belief and the Fact remain likewise.
It is the same with our belief of other ultimate facts. We live an
individual life,--we know not what. We see and perceive,--we know not
how. Yet such are the facts, and we thoroughly believe and act upon
them.
The pivot on which these and similar beliefs turn is a subject of the
greatest interest and importance. On this same pivot turns our primary
affirmative Argument for Natural Theism. To establish it will be the
purpose of the next Chapter, and a succession of affirmative arguments,
separate but convergent, will occupy the remainder of this Essay.
* * * * *
COROLLARY:--If any reader of these pages has felt the
fascination of some one among the many materializing hypotheses now in
vogue, let him remember that, in fair debate, Materialism can never
have the slightest chance against Idealism.
All materializing theories labour under an enormous weight of
unverified postulates. They set out from neither the most _natural_,
nor yet the _surest_, sources of our knowledge. Naturally, we start
from _self-ness_, and learn to put outer things and beings in
opposition to our own primary self-consciousness.
In after life, when we ask _why_ we are sure of any kind of knowledge;
the primary truths upon which _all_ our reasonings proceed, are always
the presentations of our own mind.
If we proceed to analyse accepted relativities, we soon perceive that
Mind enters into our facts, and also into our sense-presentations. In
particular, an examination of the noblest of all senses--the sense of
sight--will convince any careful analyst that such is undeniably the
case. The reader may recal Mr. Mill's words,[114]--"I do not believe
that the real externality to us of anything, except other minds,
is capable of proof." "For ourselves," says Professor Fraser, "we
can conceive only--(1) An externality to our present and transient
experience in _our own_ possible experience past and future, and (2)
An externality to our own conscious experience, in the contemporaneous,
as well as in the past or future experience of _other minds_"[115]
In this view Mr. Mill (who quotes Fraser), entirely acquiesces, and
in this same spirit he writes, "Matter may be defined, a Permanent
Possibility of Sensation;"[116]--and adds that he can accept no other
definition.
Whether the reader can or cannot define Matter otherwise; he will, at
all events, perceive that the Materialist assumes as _his_ primary
postulate, that which is by no means _the_ primary fact accepted
by Mankind. He starts with taking Matter for granted;--but, if he
inquires, he will discover that Matter is known to him in the _second_
place only; he really _first_ knew Mind. When he questions sensation,
or consciousness, he questions Mind; and, throughout his whole life,
theoretical as well as practical, Mind is _nearer_ to him, and more
_strongly_ evidenced, than any other "Possibility" whatsoever.
Such, then, is the _first_ heavy burden of unauthorized postulation,
which the Materialist's theory binds upon him. But, in the task of
postulating without authority from Nature, it seems impossible to
stop short. Mind, being an absolute necessity, must be got in some
way--(from Matter of course)--evolved, correlated, secreted. No account
is given _how_ Matter could have been thus transformed and glorified.
Yet, in default of such account, it is impossible to divine _why_ that
primary postulate ever existed at all.
The highest attenuation of Matter can no more help to explain Life or
Mind, than to say that brain, (deprived of its vitality,) is composed
of cerebrin, lecythin, and cholesterin, explains its sensibility, and
other vital and intellectual endowments. And we encounter the same
unbridged gulf at every turn of the materialistic hypothesis. There is
a wide gap between the inorganic world and all organisms, vegetable or
animal. We are, however, told that when certain inorganic elements are
combined, under certain conditions, they form protoplasm,--a substance
manifesting phenomena of vitality. The elements are known,--the
conditions are unknown,--and until protoplasm has been produced by
a chemical experimenter, instead of within a living laboratory, we
may safely believe that the unknown conditions form the essential
cause of the production. And we are given to understand by Professor
Huxley,[117] that on this subject speculation has been premature.
The gap between Body and Mind is wider still. Body has its known
properties,--measurable figure, weight, and other like specialties.
Mind has its properties also,--such as intelligence, emotion, reason,
will. _Thinking_ has never been shown to be a property of Body; nor
have _weight_ and _measure_ been applied to Mind. The laws of each
differ as decisively as their properties. Body obeys gravitation,
cohesion, and chemical affinity. Mind has its laws of reasoning,
mathematically, logically, analogically. Now, what resemblance is
here visible?[118] Body cannot compel Will,--but is moved by it;
and there is no more verisimilitude known to us of Body to Will,
than there exists between the noble thought of a high-souled Man
and the paving-stone he walks upon. The foregoing is, as every
honest materialist will acknowledge, but a slight specimen of the
many difficulties of Materialism. So little does any materializing
process of "resolution" really resolve anything, that _any_--even the
most plausible--can only be pronounced an abortive attempt to bring
something near and familiar to us, out of something unknowably remote.
The materialist's allegation is generally, that he wishes to accept
as little as possible. But the accusation of the natural Theologian
against Materialism, is that it accepts far too much. Mind being a
necessary and indispensable fact, the one fact underlying all other
facts,--whoever is bent on simplifying his beliefs, had better begin
by believing in his own Soul. And if further bent on viewing all things
as "resolvable," his surest wisdom will be to resolve Matter into
Mind. It is really the easier alternative, and has a double merit,--it
starts from the best-known fact, and it satisfies his desire for
"simplification."
At all events, the consequences resulting from Materialism, are too
serious to permit a disregard of Probability. We must, surely, find and
follow the very best guide we can:--
"These are no school-points; nice philosophy
May tolerate unlikely arguments,
But heaven admits no jests."
Mr. Huxley,[119] who sees advantages (simplicity and unification)
in employing a materialistic terminology, adds the very striking
caution--"But the man of science, who, forgetting the limits of
philosophical inquiry, slides from these" (materialistic) "formulæ
and symbols into what is commonly understood by materialism, seems
to me to place himself on a level with the mathematician, who should
_mistake_ the x's and y's, with which he works his problems, _for real
entities_--and with this further disadvantage, as compared with the
mathematician, that the blunders of the latter are of no practical
consequence, while the errors of systematic materialism may paralyse
the energies and destroy the beauty of a life."
The words italicized are remarkable. The materializing _façons de
parler_ do not embody a knowledge of "real entities" after all. And
such is the language of one[120] who stands in the foremost rank of
European Biologists.
ADDITIONAL NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER III.
A.--ACCOUNT OF SOME THEORIES RESPECTING OUR PERSONAL IDENTITY.
In a sentence worthy of the pen of Glanvill or of Sir T. Browne, Locke
remarked "The _Ideas_, as well as Children of our Youth, often die
before us: And our Minds represent to us those Tombs, to which we
are approaching; where, though the Brass and Marble remain, yet the
Inscriptions are effaced by Time, and the Imagery moulders away. _The
Pictures drawn in our Minds, are laid in fading Colours_, and if not
sometimes refreshed, vanish and disappear." _On Retention_, B. II.,
chap. x. 5.
This truly human feeling did not hinder Locke from writing (chap,
xxvii.) on the subject of Self-ness in a manner which appeared to imply
that Consciousness, or Consciousness _plus_ Memory "_made_" Personal
Identity;--or to use Reid's words "whatever hath the consciousness of
present and past actions, is the same person to whom they belong."
Bishop Butler's strictures on the topic are known to most students:
but, as Sir William Hamilton observes (Foot-note on Reid, pp. 350,
351), "Long before Butler, to whom the merit is usually ascribed,
Locke's doctrine of Personal Identity had been attacked and refuted.
This was done even by his earliest critic, John Sergeant, whose words,
as he is an author wholly unknown to all historians of philosophy, and
his works of the rarest, I shall quote. He thus argues:--'The former
distinction forelaid, he (Locke) proceeds to make _personal identity in
man to consist in the consciousness that we are the same thinking thing
in different times and places_. He proves it, because consciousness
is inseparable from thinking, and, as it seems to him, _essential_ to
it.... But, to speak to the point: Consciousness of any action or other
accident we have now, or have had, is nothing but our knowledge that
it belonged to us; and, since we both agree that we have no innate
knowledges, it follows, that all, both actual and habitual knowledges,
which we have, are acquired or accidental to the subject or knower.
_Wherefore, the man, or that thing which is to be the knower, must have
had individuality or personality, from other principles, antecedently
to this knowledge, called consciousness: and, consequently, he will
retain his identity, or continue the same man, or (which is equivalent)
the same person, as long as he has those individuating principles...._
It being then most evident, _that a man must be the same, ere he can
know or be conscious that he is the same_, all his laborious descants
and extravagant consequences which are built upon this supposition,
that consciousness individuates the person, can need no farther
refutation.'
"The same objection was also made by Leibnitz in his strictures on
Locke's Essay....
"For the best criticism of Locke's doctrine of Personal Identity, I
may, however, refer the reader to M. Cousin's '_Cours de Philosophie_.'"
One of Locke's arguments is worthy of attention from its oddity. He
says (chap. xxvii. 20), "But if it be possible for the same Man to have
distinct incommunicable Consciousnesses at different Times, it is past
doubt the same Man would at different Times make different Persons;
which, we see, is the Sense of Mankind in the solemnest Declaration of
their Opinions, Human Laws not punishing the _Mad Man_ for the _Sober
Man's_ Actions, nor the _Sober Man_ for what the _Mad Man_ did, thereby
making them two Persons; which is somewhat explained by our Way of
speaking in _English_, when we say, such a one _is not himself_, or is
_besides himself_; in which Phrases it is insinuated, as if those who
now, or at least, first used them, thought that _Self_ was changed, the
_self_ same Person was no longer in that Man."
It appears strange that so acute a writer should not have perceived the
true consequences to be deduced from his observation. We never really
treat a man who goes mad as becoming another personage. But if he has
lost his self-control from causes by himself uncontrollable, we do not
punish his criminalities, and we do divest him of his social powers; he
can neither vote for Parliament, bequeath property, nor do many other
acts, during the period of his affliction. But we use all means for his
cure, and rejoice at his return to health and society. If a man "beside
himself" were "a different person," then "tipsy he" would certainly
not be "ipse he."--Yet the father of ethical science decided that the
criminal drunkard deserves double meed of punishment.
To Locke's theory of Personal Identity Hamilton dedicates one more
note. He gives (_Reid_, p. 353), an extract from Lord Kames (_Essays
on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion_), who pronounces
his own opinion and appends some unpublished remarks of Dr. Reid.
"Mr. Locke, writing on personal identity, has fallen short of his
usual accuracy. He inadvertently jumbles together the identity that
is nature's work, with our knowledge of it. Nay, he expresses himself
sometimes as if identity had no other foundation than that knowledge.
I am favoured by Dr. Reid with the following thoughts on personal
identity:--
"'All men agree that personality is indivisible; a part of a person
is an absurdity. A man who loses his estate, his health, an arm, or
a leg, continues still to be the same person. My personal identity,
therefore, is the continued existence of that indivisible thing which
I call myself. I am not thought; I am not action; I am not feeling;
but I think, and act, and feel. Thoughts, actions, feelings, change
every moment; but _self_, to which they belong, is permanent. If it be
asked how I know that it is permanent, the answer is, that I know it
from memory. Everything I remember to have seen, or heard, or done,
or suffered, convinces me that I existed at the time remembered. But,
though it is from memory that I have the knowledge of my personal
identity, yet personal identity must exist in nature, independent of
memory; otherwise, I should only be the same person as far as my memory
serves me; and what would become of my existence during the intervals
wherein my memory has failed me? My remembrance of any of my actions
does not make me to be the person who did the action, but only makes
me know that I was the person who did it. And yet it was Mr. Locke's
opinion, that my remembrance of an action is what makes me to be the
person who did it; a pregnant instance that even men of the greatest
genius may sometimes fall into an absurdity. Is it not an obvious
corollary, from Mr. Locke's opinion, that he never was born? He could
not remember his birth; and, therefore, was not the person born at such
a place and at such a time.'"
When we come to Hume, the case is considerably altered. He opens
the question after his own manner by asking _how_ the fact commonly
stated can be; and using the difficulty of explaining this "how" as
a sufficient objection against the fact asserted. "There are some
philosophers," he writes (_Treatise_, B. I., Part iv., Sect. 6), "who
imagine we are every moment intimately conscious of what we call our
_self_; that we feel its existence and its continuance in existence;
and are certain, beyond the evidence of a demonstration, both of its
perfect identity and simplicity....
"Unluckily all these positive assertions are contrary to that very
experience, which is pleaded for them, nor have we any idea of _self_,
after the manner it is here explained. For from what impression could
this idea he derived?... If any impression gives rise to the idea of
self, that impression must continue invariably the same, through the
whole course of our lives; since self is supposed to exist after that
manner. But there is no impression constant and invariable. Pain and
pleasure, grief and joy, passions and sensations succeed each other,
and never all exist at the same time. It cannot therefore be from any
of these impressions, or from any other, that the idea of self is
derived; and consequently there is no such idea.... For my part, when
I enter most intimately into what I call _myself_, I always stumble
on some particular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or
shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch _myself_
at any time without a perception, and never can observe anything
but the perception.... The mind is a kind of theatre, where several
perceptions successively make their appearance; pass, re-pass, glide
away, and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations.
There is properly no _simplicity_ in it at one time, nor _identity_
in different; whatever natural propension we may have to imagine that
simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theatre must not mislead
us. They are the successive perceptions only, that constitute the mind;
nor have we the most distant notion of the place, where these scenes
are represented, or of the materials, of which it is composed."
It is curious that Hume wishing to represent Mind as a melting mist of
successive perceptions, should be driven into the use of a word which
implied a something continuing and permanent as affording the _stage_
on which all passing scenes called "impressions" are enacted.
Hume next discusses the laws of association; and then proceeds (same
Section sub fin.) "As memory alone acquaints us with the continuance
and extent of this succession of perceptions, 'tis to be considered,
upon that account chiefly, as the source of personal identity. Had
we no memory, we never should have any notion of causation, nor
consequently of that chain of causes and effects, which constitute our
self or person. But having once acquired this notion of causation from
the memory, we can extend the same chain of causes, and consequently
the identity of our persons beyond our memory, and can comprehend
times, and circumstances, and actions, which we have entirely forgot,
but suppose in general to have existed. For how few of our past
actions are there, of which we have any memory? Who can tell me, for
instance, what were his thoughts and actions on the first of January,
1715, the eleventh of March, 1719, and the third of August, 1733? Or
will he affirm, because he has entirely forgot the incidents of these
days, that the present self is not the same person with the self
of that time; and by that means overturn all the most established
notions of personal identity? In this view therefore memory does not
so much _produce_ as _discover_ personal identity, by shewing us the
relation of cause and effect among our different perceptions. 'Twill
be incumbent on those who affirm that memory produces entirely our
personal identity, to give a reason why we can thus extend our identity
beyond our memory.
"The whole of this doctrine leads us to a conclusion, which is of great
importance in the present affair, viz., that all the nice and subtile
questions concerning personal identity can never possibly be decided,
and are to be regarded rather as grammatical than as philosophical
difficulties. Identity depends on the relations of ideas; and these
relations produce identity, by means of that easy transition they
occasion. But as the relations, and the easiness of the transition may
diminish by insensible degrees, we have no just standard by which we
can decide any dispute concerning the time, when they acquire or lose a
title to the name of identity. All the disputes concerning the identity
of connected objects are merely verbal, except so far as the relation
of parts gives rise to some fiction or imaginary principle of union, as
we have already observed."
If any one feels dissatisfied with these conclusions our author
is ready with his apology--"The _intense_ view of these manifold
contradictions and imperfections in human reason has so wrought upon
me, and heated my brain, that I am ready to reject all belief and
reasoning, and can look upon no opinion even as more probable or likely
than another. Where am I, or what? From what causes do I derive my
existence, and to what condition shall I return? Whose favour shall
I court, and whose anger must I dread? What beings surround me? and
on whom have I any influence, or who have any influence on me? I am
confounded with all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in
the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest
darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every member and faculty.
"Most fortunately it happens, that since reason is incapable of
dispelling these clouds, nature herself suffices to that purpose,
and cures me of this philosophical melancholy and delirium, either
by relaxing this bent of mind, or by some avocation, and lively
impression of my senses, which obliterate all these chimeras. I dine,
I play a game of back-gammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends;
and when after three or four hours' amusement, I would return to these
speculations, they appear so cold, and strained, and ridiculous, that
I cannot find in my heart to enter into them any farther." (Part iv.,
Section 7.)
Is not this good-humoured? Is it not a piece of pleasant bantering, to
be equalled only by certain French philosophers? The real conclusion,
however, winds up his First Book and runs as follows:--"A true
sceptic will be diffident of his philosophical doubts, as well as
of his philosophical conviction; and will never refuse any innocent
satisfaction, which offers itself, upon account of either of them.
"Nor is it only proper we should in general indulge our inclination
in the most elaborate philosophical researches, notwithstanding our
sceptical principles, but also that we should yield (sic) to that
propensity, which inclines us to be positive and certain in _particular
points_, according to the light, in which we survey them in any
_particular instant_. 'Tis easier to forbear all examination and
inquiry, than to check ourselves in so natural a propensity, and guard
against that assurance, which always arises from an exact and full
survey of an object. On such an occasion we are apt not only to forget
our scepticism, but even our modesty too; and make use of such terms
as these, _'tis evident_, _'tis certain_, _'tis undeniable_; which a
due deference to the public ought, perhaps, to prevent. I may have
fallen into this fault after the example of others; but I here enter
a _caveat_ against any objections, which may be offered on that head;
and declare that such expressions were extorted from me by the present
view of the object, and imply no dogmatical spirit, nor conceited idea
of my own judgment, which are sentiments that I am sensible can become
nobody, and a sceptic still less than any other.[121]
* * * * *
It is obvious to remark that no amount of easiness would maintain
most minds in this balanced position of the pleasant know-nothing
man. The general tendency would be to acknowledge the negative side
alone. And it would be well if an absence of serious convictions,
seriously asserted, and acted on, did not gradually weaken the sense of
Responsibility by making Truth appear indifferent because unattainable.
We, however, are just now more concerned with two other equally
obvious comments. One, that Hume appears to take for granted the
point at issue. Suppose it for argument's sake to be true that
impressions and ideas (as described by him) make up our whole ordinary
consciousness; does this shew that no latent power or entity exists by
which we _become_ conscious of those passing trains? When impressed by
colours, are we conscious of an optic nerve, retina, crystalline lens
and other instrumental powers of vision? Can we, if we try, perceive by
sense the nerve-currents brainwards, or the sensory which receives and
compares them? In both cases (eye and inward eye) pathology affords an
evidence of consciousness which happy health refuses us. The brainsick
sense sees colours and phantoms which are not--the disordered mind
dwells on impressions and ideas absolutely unreal, and acts on them as
stern realities. And thus our own purely subjective states reveal to us
our own subjectivity. 'Tis so in fevers, in lunacies, in vices--'tis so
to the drowning or the desperate man. These mournful changes which pass
over ourselves issue from an interior activity of self-ness and form
one of its commonest verifications.
This first comment admits of extension. If we endeavour to introduce
experiment (as well as experience) into Mental Science, must we not ask
a previous question:--Shall this or that experiment be tried? In other
words, by what inner law shall we shape our inquiries so as to gain
useful facts for our intended induction?--Nay, we may further ask: What
inner Being is to settle the questions, criticize them, and judge the
final issue? And if we seem to see our way on these topics, we may feel
pretty sure that whenever our psychology comes to practical trial, we
proceed as being sure of a Self, more or less _self-conscious of Self_,
and are quite confident that its self-ness will continue during the
whole time of our investigations.
Our second comment may be simply summed, but the consideration given
to it ought to be minute and careful. Suppose instead of successive
perceptions, impressions, or ideas, we substitute a succession of
phenomena, and then apply to them Hume's line of thought, we have an
acute statement of the modern teachings which relegate the noblest
part of our Nature, our reasonings and our beliefs to the territory of
the Unknowable. In a word, all knowledge thus seems to be gained by
"looking on," none by "looking in." Truth within ourselves especially
if it manifests a Truth above ourselves is made to appear hopeless. And
so far does the process of Elimination extend, that principles involved
even in our "looking on" must not be drawn out of their latency, for
fear they should become accepted parts of knowledge. Let any thinker
repeat with this substitution the Personal Identity argument in his
own mind, and he will soon see what a shadow is cast over an infinitely
wider world of thought.[122]
The same process of repetition ought in fairness to produce another
effect. Are not these philosophic _argutiæ_, these Pyrrhonic subtilties
closely akin to the difficulties raised against _all_ first principles;
and more particularly all Theistic principles? But does anybody on
their account doubt his own Self-ness or Identity? Or does any one
refuse to act on the supposition of _other-ness_, and _outer-ness_, or
ignore his world of fellow-men and hard objectivities which press upon
him from every side? Why then should anybody ignore on their account
the great First-Cause?
In the text of Chapter III. the elements of our reasonable belief
in our own Personal self-ness and sameness have been shortly
mentioned;--of such work-day belief, that is to say, as suffices
for actual life, and gains from it, and throughout it, a perpetual
verification. If any one wishes to go deeper than this, he must inquire
upon what evidence first principles are accepted by reasoning men; what
difficulties attach to such principles; and under what conditions these
difficulties are held to be nugatory. This inquiry is troublesome but
promises real satisfaction. We have not, therefore, declined it, as may
be seen in the ensuing Chapter. One fact is manifest beforehand--that
whatever evidence is presupposed valid by those first principles of
every-day knowledge, may be safely presupposed, accepted, and reasoned
upon, in the ground-work of Natural Theology.
It was Hume's object to push his scepticism to its most extreme verge.
Thus pushed, it "so wrought upon" him that he was "ready to reject
all belief and reasoning" till a return to every-day life made his
speculations appear in his own eyes "cold and strained and ridiculous."
What then was the inference Hume himself intended? Which was really
groundless--every-day belief or scepticism? Will his useful dilemma
induce the reader to receive Kant's excuse for the celebrated doubter,
when he bids us let the man alone because he is but trying the strength
of human reason? At all events, Hume's way of stating his case seems to
justify the old remark, that, while Superstition is refuted by Reason,
Nature itself refutes the Sceptic.
B.--EXTRACTS FROM POPULAR LECTURES, BY PROFESSOR HELMHOLTZ, ON THE
RECENT PROGRESS OF THE THEORY OF VISION.
"If now we compare the eye with other optical instruments, we observe
the advantage it has over them in its very large field of vision. This
for each eye separately is 160° (nearly two right angles) laterally,
and 120° vertically, and for both together somewhat more than two right
angles from right to left. The field of view of instruments made by art
is usually very small, and becomes smaller with the increased size of
the image.
"But we must also admit, that we are accustomed to expect in these
instruments complete precision of the image in its entire extent, while
it is only necessary for the image on the retina to be exact over a
very small surface, namely, that of the yellow spot. The diameter
of the central pit corresponds in the field of vision to an angular
magnitude which can be covered by the nail of one's forefinger when the
hand is stretched out as far as possible. In this small part of the
field our power of vision is so accurate that it can distinguish the
distance between two points, of only _one minute_ angular magnitude,
_i.e._ a distance equal to the sixtieth part of the diameter of the
finger-nail. This distance corresponds to the width of one of the
cones of the retina. All the other parts of the retinal image are seen
imperfectly, and the more so the nearer to the limit of the retina they
fall. So that the image which we receive by the eye is like a picture,
minutely and elaborately finished in the centre, but only roughly
sketched in at the borders. But although at each instant we only see
a very small part of the field of vision accurately, we see this in
combination with what surrounds it, and enough of this outer and larger
part of the field, to notice any striking object, and particularly
any change that takes place in it. All of this is unattainable in a
telescope.
"But if the objects are too small, we cannot discern them at all with
the greater part of the retina.
'When, lost in boundless blue on high,
The lark pours forth his thrilling song,'
the 'ethereal minstrel' is lost until we can bring her image to a focus
upon the central pit of our retina. Then only are we able to _see_ her.
"To _look_ at anything means to place the eye in such a position that
the image of the object falls on the small region of perfectly clear
vision. This we may call _direct_ vision, applying the term _indirect_
to that exercised with the lateral parts of the retina--indeed with all
except the yellow spot.
"The defects which result from the inexactness of vision and the
smaller number of cones in the greater part of the retina are
compensated by the rapidity with which we can turn the eye to one
point after another of the field of vision, and it is this rapidity of
movement which really constitutes the chief advantage of the eye over
other optical instruments....
"A great part of the importance of the eye as an organ of expression
depends on the same fact; for the movements of the eyeball--its
glances--are among the most direct signs of the movement of the
attention, of the movements of the mind, of the person who is looking
at us." _Popular Lectures on Scientific Subjects_, pp. 212-214.
The great German next proceeds to catalogue some principal defects of
the Eye. 1. Chromatic aberration connected with 2. spherical aberration
and defective centering of the cornea and lens, together producing the
imperfection known as astigmatism, and 3. irregular radiation round
the images of illuminated points. "Now," adds Helmholtz, "it is not
too much to say that if an optician wanted to sell me an instrument
which had all these defects, I should think myself quite justified in
blaming his carelessness in the strongest terms, and giving him back
his instrument. Of course, I shall not do this with my eyes, and shall
be only too glad to keep them as long as I can--defects and all. Still,
the fact that, however bad they may be, I can get no others, does not
at all diminish their defects, so long as I maintain the narrow but
indisputable position of a critic on purely optical grounds." (p. 219.)
He then goes on to other faults. 4. Defective transparency. 5. Floating
corpuscules (Muscæ Volitantes). 6. The "blind spot" with other gaps
in the field of vision. "So much," he concludes, "for the physical
properties of the Eye. If I am asked why I have spent so much time
in explaining its imperfection to my readers, I answer, as I said at
first, that I have not done so in order to depreciate the performances
of this wonderful organ, or to diminish our admiration of its
construction. It was my object to make the reader understand, at the
first step of our inquiry, that it is not any mechanical perfection of
the organs of our senses which secures for us such wonderfully true
and exact impressions of the outer world. The next section of this
inquiry will introduce much bolder and more paradoxical conclusions
than any I have yet stated. We have now seen that the eye in itself is
not by any means so complete an optical instrument as it first appears:
its extraordinary value depends upon the way in which we use it: its
perfection is practical, not absolute.... Wherever we scrutinise the
construction of physiological organs, we find the same character of
practical adaptation to the wants of the organism; although, perhaps,
there is no instance which we can follow out so minutely as that of the
eye.
"For the eye has every possible defect that can be found in an optical
instrument, and even some which are peculiar to itself; but they are
all so counteracted, that the inexactness of the image which results
from their presence very little exceeds, under ordinary conditions of
illumination, the limits which are set to the delicacy of sensation by
the dimensions of the retinal cones....
"The adaptation of the eye to its function is, therefore, most
complete, and is seen in the very limits which are set to its defects.
Here the result which may be reached by innumerable generations
working under the Darwinian law of inheritance, coincides with what
the wisest Wisdom may have devised beforehand. A sensible man will not
cut firewood with a razor, and so we may assume that each step in the
elaboration of the eye must have made the organ more vulnerable and
more slow in its development. We must also bear in mind that soft,
watery animal textures must always be unfavourable and difficult
material for an instrument of the mind....
"But, apparently, we are not yet come much nearer to understanding
sight. We have only made one step: we have learnt how the optical
arrangement of the eye renders it possible to separate the rays of
light which come in from all parts of the field of vision, and to bring
together again all those that have proceeded from a single point, so
that they may produce their effect upon a single fibre of the optic
nerve.
"Let us see, therefore, how much we know of the sensations of the eye,
and how far this will bring us towards the solution of the problem." P.
226, seq.
From the Professor's mention of "much bolder and more paradoxical
conclusions," the final result of his next inquiry may be anticipated.
Sensation is so far from making evident the truth of our visual
knowledge that it increases our perplexities tenfold. "The
inaccuracies," he tells us, "and imperfections of the eye as an optical
instrument, and those which belong to the image on the retina, now
appear insignificant in comparison with the incongruities which we
have met with in the field of sensation. One might almost believe that
Nature had here contradicted herself on purpose, in order to destroy
any dream of a pre-existing harmony between the outer and the inner
world.
"And what progress have we made in our task of explaining Sight? It
might seem that we are farther off than ever; the riddle only more
complicated, and less hope than ever of finding out the answer. The
reader may perhaps feel inclined to reproach Science with only knowing
how to break up with fruitless criticism the fair world presented to us
by our senses, in order to annihilate the fragments." (p. 269.)
How triumphant does Idealism now appear! How little trustworthy that
boasted sense of which mankind have constantly said, "seeing is
believing," although an apostle and philosophers innumerable have put
the two in opposition!
Perhaps, however, instead of leading to a "triumph of Idealism," the
paradoxes and incongruities--in a word, the vast accumulation of the
Unknowable--belonging to eyesight _considered as a Sensation_, must
be allowed to land us on the shore of a far-stretching Scepticism
illimitable to the mind's eye. And this seems to be the eminent
writer's own final opinion.[123] So, too, it will always appear when
the case is fairly argued out; and that for the reasons adduced in
our text. The course of argument there pursued was adopted before the
Professor's book came to hand; but we have now added some extracts from
his pages in the shape of footnotes, and have given references to other
interesting topics touched upon by him.
For our purpose, however, it is necessary in some degree to disregard
the variety of those topics, and fix our attention upon the conclusive
issue. It is plain, that respecting our senses, as well as our other
primary sources of information, the limits of what we can completely
explain are very narrow. Yet each for himself and all of us for
our race must needs every day accept and act upon this limited and
imperfect kind of knowledge about what most essentially concerns our
actions as well as our speculations.
Several strong examples of such incompleteness are given by
Helmholtz in his scientific inquiry into the rationale of the
visual sense-impressions. We observe, for instance, in his chapter
on Sensation (p. 236 seq.) that all light-waves are the same in
kind of movement, but differ in size as widely as the ripples on a
sea-beach (round which happy children play) differ from the vast
Atlantic ship-engulfing billows sixty or a hundred feet apart. All
these undulations are similar in respect of reflection, refraction,
interference, diffraction, and polarisation, as well as in their
production of heat.[124] Now, it is the interpretation of such
movements into its own language by which our eye gives us the sensation
of colour. Yet this power of interpretation is curiously limited--it
does not appreciate the gentler ripples of the light-waves--it does
not reach to their mightier undulations. Consequently, there may be
tender colour-delicacies adorning the Universe, completely incognisable
by us, and there may be also glows and intensities of light-beams
magnificently resplendent, and unspeakably grand in tone, of which we
can through our visual apparatus form no possible conception. Thus, our
eye translates some waves into a language which we call colour, but
its scholarship is limited. A certain number of signs it catches and
interprets, the rest lie altogether outside its ken. The Sun's softer
light-harmonies, and his most awful emanations of beauty remain equally
unknown.
And another limitation has been imposed upon our optical apparatus. For
a perception of heating powers belonging to colour-waves the eye refers
us to the skin;--and as to their chemical powers we are only just now
discovering the instruments fitted for their true appreciation.
Skilful, too, and yet at the same time very skill-less, is the
divination into sunlight given us by our human eyes;--sunlight, that
is to say, as a general resultant in its whiteness. For, if our eyes,
keen and susceptible to us perfect clearness, attempt to analyze white
light into its factors and elements, their resolving faculty manifests
still more blank inabilities. And they fail also in examining certain
colours:--
"The most striking difference," writes Helmholtz, "between the mixture
of pigments and that of coloured light is, that while painters make
green by mixing blue and yellow pigments, the union of blue and yellow
rays of light, produces white.... In general, then, light, which
consists of undulations of different wave-lengths, produces different
impressions upon our eye, namely, those of different colours. But the
number of hues which we can recognise is much smaller than that of
the various possible combinations of rays with different wave-lengths
which external objects can convey to our eyes. The retina cannot
distinguish between the white which is produced by the union of scarlet
and bluish-green light, and that which is composed of yellowish-green
and violet, or of yellow and ultramarine blue, or of red, green,
and violet, or of all the colours of the spectrum united. All these
combinations appear identically as white; and yet, from a physical
point of view, they are very different. In fact, the only resemblance
between the several combinations just mentioned is, that they are
indistinguishable to the human eye. For instance, a surface illuminated
with red and bluish-green light would come out black in a photograph;
while another lighted with yellowish-green and violet would appear
very bright, although both surfaces alike seem to the eye to be simply
white. Again, if we successively illuminate coloured objects with white
beams of light of various composition, they will appear differently
coloured. And whenever we decompose two such beams by a prism, or look
at them through a coloured glass, the difference between them at once
becomes evident.
"Other colours, also, especially when they are not strongly pronounced,
may, like pure white light, be composed of very different mixtures, and
yet appear indistinguishable to the eye, while in every other property,
physical or chemical, they are entirely distinct." (pp. 239-241.)
We may speak of visual Sensation, then, as a _limited_ power of
_translating_ light. And what relation does visual _Perception_ bear to
this Power? Probably the simplest way of expressing it, is to say that
it is neither more nor less than the _translation of a translation_.
The mind thus construes to itself what the visual sense is every moment
busied with expressing in its own special language--the interpretation
of movement, into colour, light and shadow. And from these data--these
colours, lights and shadows, the mind draws its own inferences.
Now these inferences thus drawn from preceding Sense
inferences,--limited in range, as we have seen, and defective in
analytic power;--these inferences, such as they are, constitute the
boasted certainty of eyesight; and of all things apprehended by its
means,--all
--quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus et quæ
Ipse sibi _tradit_ spectator.
It needs but a statement of the mode in which our final
mind-interpretations are constructed,--of these translated
translations,--obscure in grammar and imperfect in vocabulary--to
prove how very difficult is the position of the Realist. In view of
this Empire of the Unknowable proclaimed by Science over the surest
of our perceiving powers, the firmest foundations of our experimental
knowledge, Helmholtz suggests that his reader "may feel determined to
stick fast to the 'sound common sense' of mankind, and believe his own
senses more than physiology." (p. 270.)
And such, no doubt, is the conclusion of the matter to the greater part
of mankind. But we will in the first place prefer hearing the last word
of the physiologist. From page 270 to page 313 of his work, he argues
out the great question of _how_ we perceive under the full impression
of its vast importance to psychology, metaphysics, and the first
principles upon which all science and all reasonings repose. "We have,"
he says (p. 281), "already learned enough to see that the questions
which have here to be decided are of fundamental importance, not only
for the physiology of sight, but for a correct understanding of the
true nature and limits of human knowledge generally."
The Physiologist's last word is this--Sense impressions are signs, the
meaning of which we learn inductively by a process of self education.
"Illusions obviously depend upon mental processes which may be
described as false inductions.... There appears to me to be in reality
only a superficial difference between the 'conclusions' of logicians
and those inductive conclusions of which we recognise the result in
the conceptions we gain of the outer world through our sensations. The
difference chiefly depends upon the former conclusions being capable
of expression in words, while the latter are not; because, instead of
words, they only deal with sensations and the memory of sensations.
Indeed, it is just the impossibility of describing sensations, whether
actual or remembered, in words, which makes it so difficult to discuss
this department of psychology at all." (pp. 307, 8.) And again (p.
314), "There is a most striking analogy between the entire range of
processes which we have been discussing, and another System of Signs,
which is not given by nature but arbitrarily chosen, and which must
undoubtedly be learned before it is understood. I mean the words of our
mother tongue.
"Learning how to speak is obviously a much more difficult task than
acquiring a foreign language in after-life. First, the child has
to guess that the sounds it hears are intended to be signs at all;
next, the meaning of each separate sound must be found out, by the
same kind of induction as the meaning of the sensations of sight or
touch; and yet we see children by the end of their first year already
understanding certain words and phrases, even if they are not yet able
to repeat them. We may sometimes observe the same in dogs.
"Now this connection between Names and Objects, which demonstrably
must be _learnt_, becomes just as firm and indestructible as that
between Sensations and the Objects which produce them. We cannot help
thinking of the usual signification of a word, even when it is used
exceptionally in some other sense; we cannot help feeling the mental
emotions which a fictitious narrative calls forth, even when we know
that it is not true; just in the same way as we cannot get rid of the
normal signification of the sensations produced by any illusion of the
senses, even when we know that they are not real.
"There is one other point of comparison which is worth notice. The
elementary signs of language are only twenty-six letters, and yet what
wonderfully varied meanings can we express and communicate by their
combination! Consider, in comparison with this, the enormous number of
elementary signs with which the machinery of sight is provided. We may
take the number of fibres in the optic nerves as two hundred and fifty
thousand. Each of these is capable of innumerable different degrees of
sensation of one, two, or three primary colours. It follows that it is
possible to construct an immeasurably greater number of combinations
here than with the few letters which build up our words. Nor must we
forget the extremely rapid changes of which the images of sight are
capable. No wonder, then, if our senses speak to us in language which
can express far more delicate distinctions and richer varieties than
can be conveyed by words."
Finally (pp. 315, 16), "The correspondence, therefore, between the
external world and the Perceptions of Sight rests, either in whole or
in part, upon the same foundation as all our knowledge of the actual
world,--on _experience_, and on constant _verification_ of its accuracy
by experiments which we perform with every movement of our body. It
follows, of course, that we are only warranted in accepting the reality
of this correspondence so far as these means of verification extend,
which is really as far as for practical purposes we need.
"Beyond these limits, as, for example, in the region of Qualities,
we are in some instances able to prove conclusively that there is no
correspondence at all between sensations and their objects.
"Only the relations of time, of space, of equality, and those which
are derived from them, of number, size, regularity of co-existence and
of sequence--'mathematical relations' in short, are common to the
outer and the inner world, and here we may indeed look for a complete
correspondence between our conceptions and the objects which excite
them.
"But it seems to me that we should not quarrel with the bounty of
nature because the greatness, and also the emptiness, of these abstract
relations have been concealed from us by the manifold brilliance of a
system of signs; since thus they can be the more easily surveyed and
used for practical ends, while yet traces enough remain visible to
guide the philosophical spirit aright, in its search after the meaning
of sensible Images and Signs."
Let therefore this account of visual Perception be accepted by us,
as it will probably be by three-fourths of scientific men throughout
Europe. And, next, let us ask, as every real thinker will proceed to
ask, on _what_ grounds of _certitude_ rests our assurance as regards
the daily and hourly information received through this avenue of
perception, reasoned and acted upon with unswerving confidence by us
all?
For an examination of the ground principle of Induction, the reader
must be referred to our next chapter. But it is at once clear that no
human _experience_ can possess the attribute of universality, otherwise
it would cease to be human. We have then in this present appeal to the
veracity of Experience, no _absolute_ knowledge to deal with, only
knowledge as relative to mankind. Nay, we must go a little further
still in our limitation, and say to the _generality_ of mankind. For
our eyes do not all see perfectly alike--a North-American Indian sees
what a Cockney cannot discover; the trained eye discerns differently
from the untrained. On the differences of power in eye and ear rest the
differences in many kinds of theorising--amongst which art-perceptions
yield an obvious and familiar set of examples. And if we try for a
more precise estimate of the value of our limited human relativity,
and proceed by way of comparison between _our own_ diverse endowments,
who shall venture to say that the eye of our body interpreted by our
understanding, tells our inmost self more truly than the eye of our
human soul, informing us directly of the facts of its intuitive vision?
So far as our actual means of valuing these two modes of beholding can
go, there is no knowledge so perfect as the product of pure intuition,
the glorious fabric of Mathematical Science. And to pure Science it
matters not whether the requisite Schematism is drawn upon a sheet
of white paper or on the clear tablet of the imagining faculty of a
philosopher. The purely inward view is in truth generally the farthest
reaching, and the most unclouded. When, therefore, it is, and has been
for centuries, apparent to the inmost eye of the generality of our race
that there _really_ exists a spiritual world within themselves--above
them, and in the far distant future beyond us all, permanent while
we change, and the evidence of our own ultimate permanency,--such
knowledge may undeniably be human, the very flower and distinction of
our human nature; and it may on that account be received by us as true.
If, again, our ordinary human soul is so far a Christian as to exclaim
with Tertullian, "O good God," by what logical process shall we confute
its utterance, while we maintain the utterance of our commonest
sense-perceptions?
That we all see in frames, that we all think in frames, no rational
thinker or perceiver will deny. If, however, any of us chooses to be
an Idealist or Nihilist, let him at least be consistent;--if he will
assert the necessity of Doubt, let him maintain its empire by doubting
his own assertion. But let no man think that Doubt leads him any
whither except to an abnegation of thought, a mistrust alike of Sense
and Soul, and an abdication of every human prerogative:--
"Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall,
And universal Darkness buries all."
So sang the witty rhymer, but we may add in prose that Doubt if
thoroughly real, invariably commits suicide, and becomes first
doubtful, after that, a non-entity at last.
C.--HELMHOLTZ ON SPECIALTIES OF SENSIBILITY.
The following passages from this interesting writer will be found in
his Chapter "on the Sensations of Sight," between pp. 232 and 236. They
will, it is hoped, be thoroughly intelligible if read in connection
with the part of our last Chapter (pp. 158, 9) where a reference to
this note was made.
"The nerve-fibres have been often compared with telegraphic wires
traversing a country, and the comparison is well fitted to illustrate
this striking and important peculiarity of their mode of action. In
the network of telegraphs we find everywhere the same copper or iron
wires carrying the same kind of movement, a stream of electricity,
but producing the most different results in the various stations
according to the auxiliary apparatus with which they are connected. At
one station the effect is the ringing of a bell, at another a signal
is moved, and at a third a recording instrument is set to work....
Nerve-fibres and telegraphic wires are equally striking examples to
illustrate the doctrine that the same causes may, under different
conditions, produce different results.... As motor nerves, when
irritated, produce movement, because they are connected with muscles,
and glandular nerves secretion, because they lead to glands, so do
sensitive nerves, when they are irritated, produce sensation, because
they are connected with sensitive organs.... Whether by the irritation
of a nerve we produce a muscular movement, a secretion or a sensation
depends upon whether we are handling a motor, a glandular, or a
sensitive nerve, and not at all upon what means of irritation we may
use. It may be an electrical shock, or tearing the nerve, or cutting
it through, or moistening it with a solution of salt, or touching it
with a hot wire. In the same way (and this great step in advance was
due to Johannes Müller) the _kind_ of sensation which will ensue when
we irritate a sensitive nerve, whether an impression of light, or of
sound, or of feeling, or of smell, or of taste, will be produced,
depends entirely upon which sense the excited nerve subserves, and not
at all upon the method of excitation we adopt.
"Let us now apply this to the optic nerve, which is the object of
our present enquiry. In the first place, we know that no kind of
action upon any part of the body except the eye and the nerve which
belongs to it, can ever produce the sensation of light. The stories
of somnambulists, which are the only arguments that can be adduced
against this belief, we may be allowed to disbelieve. But, on the other
hand, it is not light alone which can produce the sensation of light
upon the eye, but also any other power which can excite the optic
nerve. If the weakest electrical currents are passed through the eye
they produce flashes of light. A blow, or even a slight pressure made
upon the side of the eyeball with the finger, makes an impression of
light in the darkest room, and, under favourable circumstances, this
may become intense. In these cases it is important to remember that
there is no objective light produced in the retina, as some of the
older physiologists assumed, for the sensation of light may be so
strong that a second observer could not fail to see through the pupil
the illumination of the retina which would follow, if the sensation
were really produced by an actual development of light within the eye.
But nothing of the sort has ever been seen. Pressure or the electric
current excites the optic nerve, and therefore, according to Müller's
law, a sensation of light results, but under these circumstances, at
least, there is not the smallest spark of actual light.
"In the same way, increased pressure of blood, its abnormal
constitution in fevers, or its contamination with intoxicating or
narcotic drugs, can produce sensations of light to which no actual
light corresponds. Even in cases in which an eye is entirely lost by
accident or by an operation, the irritation of the stump of the optic
nerve while it is healing is capable of producing similar subjective
effects. It follows from these facts that the peculiarity in kind
which distinguishes the sensation of light from all others, does not
depend upon any peculiar qualities of light itself. Every action which
is capable of exciting the optic nerve is capable of producing the
impression of light; and the purely subjective sensation thus produced
is so precisely similar to that caused by external light, that persons
unacquainted with these phenomena readily suppose that the rays they
see are real objective beams.
"Thus we see that external light produces no other effects in the optic
nerve than other agents of an entirely different nature. In one respect
only does light differ from the other causes which are capable of
exciting this nerve: namely, that the retina, being placed at the back
of the firm globe of the eye, and further protected by the bony orbit,
is almost entirely withdrawn from other exciting agents, and is thus
only exceptionally affected by them, while it is continually receiving
the rays of light which stream in upon it through the transparent media
of the eye.
"On the other hand, the optic nerve, by reason of the peculiar
structures in connection with the ends of its fibres, the rods and
cones of the retina, is incomparably more sensitive to rays of light
than any other nervous apparatus of the body, since the rest can only
be affected by rays which are concentrated enough to produce noticeable
elevation of temperature.
"This explains why the sensations of the optic nerve are for us the
ordinary sensible sign of the presence of light in the field of vision,
and why we always connect the sensation of light with light itself,
even where they are really unconnected. But we must never forget that
a survey of all the facts in their natural connection puts it beyond
doubt that external light is only _one_ of the exciting causes capable
of bringing the optic nerve into functional activity, and therefore
that there is no exclusive relation between the sensation of light and
light itself."
Some of the quotations just made direct attention to illusions of
Sight which (as we have seen in our last note) Helmholtz elsewhere
calls "false inductions." Now one curious fact relative to these
impressions is that in many instances the objective consequent is due
to a subjective antecedent. Some readers may like to peruse a short
account of five variously caused sight-illusions taken from an Oration
on _Positivism_ delivered by the present writer at St. George's Hall in
May 1871. The particulars here given of the fifth illusion should be
compared with the foot-note on page 158 _ante_.
"I will mention five instances in which people believe they see
something, and do not see it; in other words, the objective antecedent
is wanting, and the impression is produced partly by the sensory
apparatus, partly by the mind itself. As I describe these instances
one by one, let my hearers ask themselves, How does this illusion come
about? Is it produced by our optic instrument or by our mental activity?
"First, then, Take a lighted stick, and whirl it rapidly round and
round. You believe you see a circle of sparks--in reality it is no more
than a simple train, and on a like illusion the Catherine-wheel is
constructed. Again, put yourself in the hands of an optically inclined
friend, and let him operate upon you thus. He shall place a cardboard
down the middle axis of your face, quite close against your nose--one
side of his board, say the right, coloured a brilliant red, the left
a vivid green. After an instant or two let him suddenly substitute
another board, white on both sides. Do my young friends guess what will
follow? Your right eye will see green, your left red--the reverse of
what they saw before; yet neither will see correctly, for both eyes are
looking at uncoloured surfaces.
"Thirdly, Watch the full moon rising--how large and round she looks,
resting as it were upon that eastern hill, and seen amidst the tops of
its forest trees! How much larger and broader than when she hangs aloft
in upper sky! Has every one here learned the true reason why? If not,
look at her through a slit in a card, and her diameter will be the same.
"Fourthly, A schoolboy is crossing his bedroom in the deep dark night,
anxiously hoping that his head may not come into collision with the
bed-post. Though carefully and successfully avoiding it, he imagines of
a sudden that the blow is imminent. Quick as thought he stops to save
his head, and, behold, the room is as quickly filled with sparks or
flames of fire. Another moment, and all becomes dark once more. I have
heard many a schoolboy exclaim over this phenomenon, but never knew
one who could explain it. Finally, did you ever, on opening your eyes
in a morning, close them quickly again, and keep them shut, directing
them as if to look straight forwards? Most persons of active nervous
power, after a few trials--say a dozen, or a score--are surprised to
see colours appear and flit before the sight. Some years ago, Germany's
greatest poet tried, at the suggestion of her greatest physiologist,
a series of experiments on these coloured images. He found that
by an effort of will he could cause them to come and go, govern
their movement, march, and succession. And this took place under no
conditions of impaired sensation, nor any hallucination of a diseased
mind. A thoroughly healthy will succeeded in impressing itself upon
physical instruments, controlling their law, and creating at its own
pleasure an unfailingly bright phantasmagoria.
"Some here may, others may not, have apprehended the distinctions
between our five cases. The first two are due to the sensory apparatus,
its optical laws of continued impression and complementary colour.
In the latter three, mind intervenes. The enlarged size of the moon
occurs through rapid comparison, the fiery lights in a dark room
through instinctive apprehension, both influences of mind on the
sensory system. The fifth and most interesting of all is no bad
example of interference between moral and material law. The will truly
causative (you may remark) overrules the natural process of physical
impression, alters it, and creates a designed effect. I wish I could
induce my young friends to devise a number of experiments on similar
mixed cases, and, having tried them, to dissect out their real laws.
These sharpenings of the critical faculty are exceedingly useful--they
cultivate clearness; and most people know that two-thirds among our
mistakes in life are caused by confusion of thought.
"Besides all other uses, such lessons teach at once the necessity, as
we said before, of observing your own observations. And as, first, the
real witness of every observation is our mind; every fact which comes
through our bodily senses being to us a mental impression, it seems
but common sense to hear above all things what mind has to say for and
about itself. Then, secondly, where would be the benefit derived from
our observations, if we could not reason upon them, or could place no
confidence in our own reasonings? Yet the art of reasoning is so purely
a mental process, that it can be represented by symbols as abstract
and free from material meaning as if they were bare algebraic signs.
Thirdly, in the most accurate of sciences mind extends our knowledge
far beyond the circle of observation, and gives us axiomatic assurance
of its own accuracy. Who ever saw, or ever can see, all straight lines
in all conceivable positions, yet who doubts that throughout the whole
universe no two straight lines ever did inclose or can inclose a space?
And, fourthly, can it be a matter of indifference to any of us what
evidence the mind offers concerning its own moral nature, and what is
the value of that evidence, and the laws deducible therefrom? How true
it thus appears that 'know thyself' lies at the root of all knowledge,
and that the man who receives no witness from within can know nothing
as he ought to know it!"
D.--POPULAR ACCOUNT OF PURE IDEALISM WITH CRITICAL REMARKS.
"A classification of systems of philosophy according to the
cosmological conceptions governing them has actually been made. It is
founded on a consideration of the differences among philosophers as to
what that totality of existence is which is to be accepted as really
vouched for by Mind. All agree, as we have said, that Mind is the sole
voucher for anything; but philosophers are divisible into schools
according to the various views they have taken of the constitution of
that phenomenal Universe, that Cosmos, that total round of things,
of which we have a recurring assurance in every act of perception,
and which is orbed forth more or less fully for each man in his wider
contemplations.
"The popular or habitual conception of mankind in general is that there
are two distinct worlds mixed up in the phenomenal Cosmos--a world
of Mind, consisting of multitudes of individual minds, and a world
of Matter, consisting of all the extended immensity and variety of
material objects. Neither of these worlds is thought of as begotten of
the other, but each of them as existing independently in its own proper
nature and within its own definite bounds, though they traffic with
each other at present. Sweep away all existing minds, and the deserted
Earth would continue to spin round all the same, still whirling its
rocks, trees, clouds, and all the rest of its material pomp and
garniture, alternately in the sunshine and in the depths of the starry
stillness. Though no eye should behold, and no ear should hear, there
would be evenings of silver moonlight on the ocean-marge, and the waves
would roar as they broke and retired. On the other hand, suppose the
entire fabric of the material Universe abolished and dissolved, and
the dishoused population of spirits would still somehow survive in the
imaginable vacancy. If this second notion is not so easy or common as
the first, it still virtually belongs to the popular conception of the
contents or constitution of the Cosmos. The conception is that of a
Natural Dualism, or of the contact in every act of perception of two
distinct spheres, one an internal perceiving mind, and the other an
external world composed of the actual and identical objects which this
mind perceives.
"On the first exercise of philosophic thought, however, this conception
is blurred. An immense quantity of what we all instinctively think of
as really existing out of ourselves turns out, on investigation, not to
exist at all as we fancy it existing, but to consist only of affections
of the perceiving mind. The redness of the rose is not a real external
thing, immutably the same in itself; it is only a certain peculiar
action on my physiology which the presence of an external cause or
object seems to determine. Were my physiology different, the action
would be different, though the cause or object remained the same.
Indeed, there _are_ persons in whom the presence of a rose occasions
no sensation of redness such as is known to me, but a much vaguer
sensation, not distinguishable from what I should at once distinguish
as greenness. And, as colour is thus at once detected as no external
independently-existing reality, but only a recurring physiological
affection of myself and other sentient beings like myself, so with
a thousand other things which, by habit or instinct, I suppose as
externally and independently existing. When I imagine the depopulated
Earth still wheeling its inanimate rotundity through the daily sunshine
and the nocturnal shadow, or one of its bays still resonant in moonlit
evenings with the roar of the breaking waves, it is because, in spite
of myself, I intrude into the fancy the supposition of a listening
ear, and a beholding eye analogous to my own. It is only by a strong
effort that I can realize that a great deal at least of what I thus
think of as the goings-on of things by themselves is not and cannot be
their goings-on by themselves, but consists at the utmost of effects
interbred between them and a particular sentiency in the midst of them.
But the effort may be made; and, when it is made repeatedly, in a great
many directions, and with reference to a great many of the so-called
properties of matter, the inevitable result for the philosophic mind is
that the popularly-imagined substance of a real external world finds
itself eaten away or corroded, at least to a certain depth. So far
philosophers are agreed. It is when they proceed to consider to _what_
depth the popularly-imagined substance of the real external world is
thus eaten away, or accounted for, that they begin to differ.
"Some philosophers, departing as little as may be from the popular
judgment, suppose that, however much of the apparent external world may
be resolved into affections of the subjective sentiency, there still
remains an objective residue of such primary qualities as extension,
figure, divisibility, mobility, etc., belonging to external matter
itself, and by the direct and immediate cognizance of which the mind is
brought face to face with external substance, and knows something of
its real goings-on. Philosophers of this school are known generally as
REALISTS. More numerous, however, are those who, not allowing
an objective and independent reality even to the so-called primary
qualities of matter, but believing them as well as colour, odour, or
savour, to be only affections of the sentiency, deny that the mind is
in any sense brought face to face with real external things such as
they seem in the act of perception. To thinkers of this school there
has been given the general name of IDEALISTS. This broad
distinction of Philosophers cosmologically into REALISTS and
IDEALISTS is so far convenient enough. Cosmologically, or in
respect of this present Universe of ours, with its dualism of Mind
and Matter, every man must declare himself either a REALIST
or an IDEALIST, if he understands the meanings attached to
these terms. The distinction has reference solely to his notion of the
so-called external or material world in its relations to the perceiving
mind. If he abides, though only in part, by the popular conception,
and regards the material world as a substantial reality independent
of the perceiving mind, and which the mind, according to its powers,
presses against and directly apprehends in every act of perception,
then he is a REALIST. If, on the other hand, he cannot see
that there need be asserted any external material world with such
characters as we attribute to it, but supposes that our unanimous
agreement in the imagination of such an external world is merely a
habit of our own sentiency, projecting its own ideas or affections
outwards, and giving them a body, then he is an IDEALIST."
Masson, "_Recent British Philosophy_," pp. 58-64. Again p. 69, seq.,
"There is the system of _Constructive Idealism_. It may be so called to
distinguish it from the more developed and extreme Idealism presently
to be spoken of. According to this system, we do not perceive the
real external world immediately, but only mediately--that is, the
objects which we take as the things actually perceived are not the
real objects at all, but only vicarious assurances, representatives,
or nuntii of real unknown objects. The hills, the rocks, the trees,
the stars, all the choir of heaven and earth, are not, in any of
their qualities, primary, secondary, or whatever we choose to call
them, the actual existences out of us, but only the addresses of a
'something' to our physiology, or eductions by our physiology out of a
'something.' They are all Thoughts or Ideas, with only this peculiarity
involved in them, that they will not rest in themselves, but compel
a reference to objects out of self, with which, by some arrangement
or other, they stand in relation. Difficult as this system may be to
understand, and violently as it wrenches the popular common sense, it
is yet the system into which the great majority of philosophers in
all ages and countries hitherto are seen, more or less distinctly,
to have been carried by their speculations. While the Natural
Realists among philosophers have been very few, and even these have
been Realists in a sense unintelligible to the popular mind, quite a
host of philosophers have been Constructive Idealists. These might be
farther subdivided according to particular variations in the form of
their Idealism. Thus, there have been many Constructive Idealists who
have regarded the objects rising to the mind in external perception,
and taken to be representative of real unknown objects, as something
more than modifications of the mind itself--as having their origin
without. Among these have been reckoned Malebranche, Berkeley, Clarke,
Sir Isaac Newton, Tucker, and possibly Locke. But there have been
other Constructive Idealists, who have supposed the objects rising
in the mind in external perception to be only modifications of the
mind itself, but yet, by some arrangement, vicarious of real unknown
objects, and intimating their existence. Among such have been reckoned
Descartes, Leibnitz, Condillac, Kant, and most Platonists. The general
name 'Idealists' it will be seen properly enough includes both the
classes as distinct from the Natural Realists, inasmuch as both classes
hold that what the mind is directly cognizant of in external perception
is only ideas. But, inasmuch as these ideas are held by both classes,
though under divers hypotheses, to refer to real existences beyond
themselves, and distinct from the perceiving mind, the thinkers in
question may also properly enough be called Realists or Dualists,
though not 'Natural' Realists or Dualists. They occupy a midway place
between the Natural Realists and the philosophers next to be mentioned.
"There is the system of _Pure Idealism_, which abolishes matter as
a distinct or independent existence in any sense, and resolves it
completely into mind. Though this system is named in the scheme, for
the sake of symmetry, and as the exact antithesis to Materialism, it is
difficult to cite representatives that could be certainly discriminated
from the merely Constructive Idealists just mentioned on the one hand,
and from the school of philosophers next following on the other. Fichte
is, perhaps, the purest example." _Ibid._ pp. 69-72.
For perfect clearness we must put together two other passages from
Professor Masson's interesting volume:--
"There is the system of _Nihilism_, or, as it may be better called,
_Non-Substantialism_. According to this system, the Phænomenal Cosmos,
whether regarded as consisting of two parallel successions of phænomena
(Mind and Matter), or of only one (Mind or Matter), resolves itself,
on analysis, into an absolute Nothingness,--mere appearances with
no credible substratum of Reality; a play of phantasms in a void.
If there have been no positive or dogmatic Nihilists, yet both Hume
for one purpose, and Fichte for another, have propounded Nihilism as
the ultimate issue of all reasoning that does not start with some _à
priori_ postulate." Masson, "_Recent British Philosophy_," p. 66....
If any one could assert "There is no Absolute," surely it might be the
Nihilist, who has analysed away both Matter and Thought, and attenuated
the Cosmos into vapour and non-significance. Yet, from the abyss of a
speculatively reasoned Nihilism more void than Hume's, Fichte returned,
by a convulsive act of soul,--which he termed _faith_--an intense, a
burning, a blazing Ontologist. _Ibid._ p. 81."[125]
This is certainly an eloquent account of philosophic Idealism as it may
in its various phases be represented to the world of general readers.
It turns, as every such speculation must turn, on the great principle,
that our Sensations are so many series of signs and symbols.[126] They
may be preordained, and our apprehension of them innate;--they may be
arbitrary, and their interpretation the work of man's intelligence. To
decide this question, is to decide something as to the extent of their
_relativity_; but will any one pronounce their information absolutely
true?
At this point occurs a wide divergence between two great schools of
Idealism--the Psychological, and the Theological thinkers. These
schools inosculate in respect of some of their arguments, and of their
objections against ordinary modes of thought. They disagree, however,
in their aims--the ports at which they land themselves and their
disciples.
Psychological Idealism is best known to most readers through Mr. J.
S. Mill. The Theological view, so far as this country goes, seems
to have made scant progress beyond Berkeley and a few of his clever
followers. For ordinary Englishmen, a reference to continental writers
on this question seems useless;--Theology being discussed by them in
so _ab extrâ_ a manner as to put them out of court with even the most
metaphysical of our theologians.
Regarding the subject in a psychological light, Mr. O'Hanlon made
the following common-sense remarks amongst others of a more abstract
nature:[127]--
"To come now to Mr. Mill's Idealism. He, as all the world of thinkers
knows, following the steps of Berkeley and Hume, claims, by means of
his power of analysis, and by the aid of the formidable psychological
instrument furnished him by the doctrine of the Association of Ideas,
to have got rid of all other existences save and except states of
consciousness, actual and possible.... I propose to try and answer his
arguments" (_i.e._ within certain expressed limitations)--
"Let A = all my sensations.
" B = the group of sensations and of permanent possibilities of
sensation I call my body.
" C = the group of permanent possibilities of sensation I call my
friend Smith.
"Now I find B always related to A in a very peculiar manner. B has
in perpetual conjunction with it a long series of manifold states of
consciousness, A. C resembles B in very many particulars, but it is
not so related to A. I hence conclude, if I follow Mr. Mill, that C is
so related to some other A, that is, to some other consciousness. In
drawing this conclusion, in extending to C, which so closely resembles
B, my experience of B, I, according to Mr. Mill, do but extend the
principles of inductive evidence, which experience shews hold good of
my states of consciousness, to _a sphere without my consciousness_."
The italicized words sound simple enough to the ordinary reader, but
argument upon them involves (as Mr. O'Hanlon observes) two serious
postulates. "(a) That there is a sphere beyond my consciousness;
the very thing to be proved, (b) That the laws, which obtain in my
consciousness, also obtain in the sphere beyond it." But;--
"'Such an inference'" he goes on to quote from Mill "'would only
be warrantable if we could know _à priori_ that we must have been
created capable of conceiving whatever is capable of existing: that
the universe of thought and that of reality, the microcosm and the
macrocosm (as they once were called) must have been framed in complete
correspondence with one another. That this is really the case has been
laid down expressly by some systems of philosophy, by implication in
more, and is the foundation (among others) of the systems of Schelling
and Hegel; but _an assumption_ more destitute of evidence could
scarcely be made, nor can one easily imagine any evidence that could
prove it unless it were revealed from above.'" Mill on Hamilton, chap.
VI. p. 65.
The reader will probably see at once where the abstract difficulty
lies, and how it runs up into the higher metaphysics.
Now, as Mr. O'Hanlon puts the case, taking all this for granted;
"A boy cuts his finger and screams.... Yet if I was not by, the boy,
the knife, the blood, the scream, would only exist potentially."
Or on the other hand if I sacrifice consistency and substitute
'actually' for 'potentially,' "I thereby reject the validity of the
Psychological method" which asserts "that the belief in an external
cause of our sensations" is not original but "generated 'so early as to
have become inseparable from our consciousness before the time at which
memory commences.'... Nevertheless, it afterwards admits that the
belief in the case of persons, has an external cause. Hereby the method
commits suicide, falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus."
Finally, he remarks, "the psychological method professes very little
regard for our natural beliefs. Now I can, by a vigorous effort, regard
matter as mere states or possible states of my consciousness (at least
I can do so for the moment), but I can also look on other persons in
the same light. Why should one natural belief be treated more tenderly
than another?... In short, if I refuse to postulate a _non ego_, and if
I hold that, supposing the states of consciousness I call the _ego_ can
be shewn capable of producing the notion of the _non ego_, then they
did produce it, and if I hold that they can be shewn to be so capable,
such a theory is equally applicable to external consciousnesses as to
external matter. In both cases, I cannot get out of the sphere of my
own feelings; there may be something beyond or there may not, but if
there is, it is at all events incognisable by me, and to all intents
and purposes I am alone in the universe."[128]
In drift and true meaning Bishop Berkeley's Idealism differed _toto
cælo_ from Mill's, as well as from Hume's idealistic Scepticism. His
belief in a world outside us all was as firm as that of the firmest
Realist, and by a world outside us he meant a world which neither
we nor our conceptions can alter. His reasoning was also of the most
common-sense description. Sensation is (as before said) a _sign_
between us and things outside. But the sign tells us nothing of any
_substratum_ on which the things signified depend for their sign-giving
powers. Matter (as commonly understood[129]) is a figment devised by
certain philosophers;--the true subsistence of the outward world is in
and for mind, and apart from thought it does not subsist at all. But
my mind, nay the human mind, is limited. There is One whose thoughts
are not as our thoughts;--in Him the world subsists, and in Him we
also have our Being continually. The world is what it is to us, in and
through Him, and it appeals not to our so-called material frames but to
our minds.
Berkeley's argument was simply this. Take away gross matter--and the
world is still perfectly Real. It is real because God is real. Real for
us, real in Him; and by this we _know_ His Reality.[130]
By comparing this phase of Idealism with the modern doctrine of what is
called the "Conditioned," its Theological interest becomes still more
obvious. Suppose we naturally know only what is conditioned (_i.e._
dependent on some Absolute reality to us unknown), what ought, asks Dr.
Mansel, to be the inference? The right inference is that the Divine
Absolute did not leave our world in ignorance, but did really reveal
Himself to Man.
The fate of arguments framed in special interests, however noble those
interests may be, is usually the same. Some clever antagonist allows
their destructive force, but refuses their affirmative conclusions.
Berkeley's denial of the unknown substratum called matter was approved
by sceptics, who scoffed at his unknown God. His idealism was
pronounced unanswerable, his divinity needed no answer. Therefore,
the Reason remained without satisfaction of any kind, "Most of the
writings" says Hume "of that very ingenious author form the best
lessons of scepticism which are to be found either among the ancient
or modern philosophers, Bayle not excepted. He professes, however, in
his title-page (and undoubtedly with great truth,) to have composed
his book against the sceptics as well as against the atheists and
freethinkers. But that all his arguments, though otherwise intended,
are, in reality, merely sceptical, appears from this, _that they
admit of no answer, and produce no conviction_." (_Inquiry concerning
the Human Understanding._ Section XII.) And be it remarked that this
final clause forms a skilled definition of Scepticism--its essential
notion--given by an expert. Dean Mansel himself who left at his death
an unfinished article upon Berkeley, suffered under a charge of
promoting what he desired to discourage. So dangerous is it to deal
with wide questions by narrowing their sweep to a point; yet on the
other hand how few students are prepared to read and think widely?
Shall we attribute to a growing width of Thought, the increased breadth
of view under which Idealism has of late years been represented? The
German Philosopher, with whom Schwegler closes his philosophic history
writes "This ideality or non-substantiality of the finite is the
chief maxim of philosophy; and for that reason every true philosophy
is idealistic" (Idealismus).[131] In England Mr. Green of Balliol
signalises Berkeley's "true proposition--there is nothing real apart
from thought--" and carefully distinguishes it from the one so often
substituted for it--the fatal flaw of the Berkeleian argument.[132]
Another influential thinker, Mr. Herbert Spencer,--who, like Professor
Huxley, uses materialistic symbols treating them as symbols only,--has
been for some time labouring after a "reconciliation of Realism and
Idealism," which again is considered by an able critic, Mr. Henry
Sidgwick, "an impossible compromise."--Mr. Spencer's answer to Mr.
Sidgwick, on this particular point, will be found in his recently
published volume of "Essays" (III. 282 seq.). A very instructive
sentence occurs on p. 290. "Should it be said that this regarding of
everything constituting experience and thought as symbolic, has a very
shadowy aspect; I reply that these which I speak of as symbols, are
real relatively to our consciousness; and are symbolic only in their
relation to the Ultimate Reality."
So much then for a question which in a variety of shapes has exercised
the human intellect throughout countless generations, and in all
countries from India to the United States. It has also pervaded
all spheres of Thought from physical science, (on which compare
further, Additional Note I., and our next chapter), to the great
philosophico-theological domain as we have already seen in certain
specimens of Western thought. It would be easy to illustrate its empire
far more extensively from those wonderful Eastern systems brought
home to English readers thirty-six years ago by the translation of
Ritters' Ancient Philosophy, but very imperfectly comprehended even
now, notwithstanding the agreeable reception which Professor Max Müller
has provided for them. To his writings we will gladly refer the curious
student.
E.--ON THE RELATIONS OF FACT AND THEORY.
"The distinction between Theory (that is, true Theory) and Fact is
this: that in Theory the Ideas are considered as distinct from the
Facts: in Facts, though Ideas may be involved, they are not, in our
apprehension, separated from the sensations. In a Fact, the Ideas are
applied so readily and familiarly, and incorporated with the sensations
so entirely, that we do not see _them_, we see _through them_. A person
who carefully notes the motion of a star all night, sees the circle
which it describes as he sees the star, though the circle is, in fact a
result of his own Ideas. A person who has in his mind the measures of
different lines and countries on the earth's surface, and who can put
them together into one conception, finds that they can make no figure
but a globular one: to him, the earth's globular form is a Fact, as
much as the square form of his chamber. A person to whom the grounds
of believing the earth to travel round the sun are as familiar as
the grounds for believing the movements of the mail coaches in this
country, looks upon the former event as a Fact, just as he looks
upon the latter events as Facts. And a person who, knowing the Fact
of the earth's annual motion, refers it distinctly to its mechanical
cause, conceives the sun's attraction as a Fact, just as he conceives
as a Fact, the action of the wind which turns the sails of a mill. He
cannot _see_ the force in either case; he supplies it out of his own
Ideas. And thus, a true Theory is a Fact; a Fact is a familiar Theory.
That which is a Fact under one aspect, is a Theory under another.
The most recondite Theories when firmly established are Facts; the
simplest Facts involve something of the nature of Theory. Theory and
Fact correspond, in a certain degree, with Ideas and Sensations, as to
the nature of their opposition. But the Facts are Facts, so far as the
Ideas have been combined with the Sensations and absorbed in them: the
Theories are Theories, so far as the Ideas are kept distinct from the
Sensations, and so far as it is considered still a question whether
those can be made to agree with these.
"We may, as I have said, illustrate this matter by considering man as
_interpreting_ the phenomena which he sees. He often interprets without
being aware that he does so. Thus when we see the needle move towards
the magnet, we assert that the magnet exercises an attractive force on
the needle. But it is only by an interpretative act of our own minds
that we ascribe this motion to attraction. That, in this case, a force
is exerted--something of the nature of the pull which we could apply by
our own volition--is our interpretation of the phenomena; although we
may be conscious of the act of interpretation, and may then regard the
attraction as a Fact.
"Nor is it in such cases only that we interpret phenomena in our
own way, without being conscious of what we do. We see a tree at a
distance, and judge it to be a chestnut or a lime; yet this is only an
inference from the colour or form of the mass according to preconceived
classifications of our own. Our lives are full of such unconscious
interpretations. The farmer recognizes a good or a bad soil; the
artist a picture of a favourite master; the geologist a rock of a
known locality, as we recognize the faces and voices of our friends;
that is, by judgments formed on what we see and hear; but judgments in
which we do not analyze the steps, or distinguish the inference from
the appearance. And in these mixtures of observation and inference, we
speak of the judgment thus formed, as a Fact directly observed.
"Even in the case in which our perceptions appear to be most direct,
and least to involve any interpretations of our own,--in the simple
process of seeing,--who does not know how much we, by an act of the
mind, add to that which our senses receive? Does any one fancy that
he sees a solid cube? It is easy to show that the solidity of the
figure, the relative position of its faces and edges to each other,
are inferences of the spectator; no more conveyed to his conviction
by the eye alone, than they would be if he were looking at a painted
representation of a cube. The scene of nature is a picture without
depth of substance, no less than the scene of art; and in the one
case as in the other, it is the mind which, by an act of its own,
discovers that colour and shape denote distance and solidity. Most men
are unconscious of this perpetual habit of reading the language of the
external world, and translating as they read. The draughtsman, indeed,
is compelled, for his purposes, to return back in thought from the
solid bodies which he has inferred, to the shapes of surface which he
really sees. He knows that there is a mask of theory over the whole
face of nature, if it be _theory_ to infer more than we _see_. But
other men, unaware of this masquerade, hold it to be a fact that they
see cubes and spheres, spacious apartments and winding avenues. And
these things are facts to them, because they are unconscious of the
mental operation by which they have penetrated nature's disguise.
"And thus, we still have an intelligible distinction of Fact and
Theory, if we consider Theory as a conscious, and Fact as an
unconscious inference, from the phenomena which are presented to our
senses."--Whewell, _Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences_, B. I. Chap.
ii. Sect. 10.
F.--ON THE "UNKNOWABLE."
If the word which heads this note could be accepted in the sense
understood by Mr. Spencer's American critic, as a truthful and in all
respects complete description of the First Ground of all things, there
must of course be an end of all Theology, natural, and supernatural;
Theism, Pantheism, and Atheism, would together become what Comte
thought them,--equally unfounded, equally unmeaning, and therefore
equally to be opposed, condemned, and ostracized. Between Humanity and
all that is Superhuman the gulf would appear hopelessly impassable.
"To be consistent," says the Editor of the American _Index_,
"Empiricism must utterly sink the soul in its material
surroundings...." Mr. Spencer makes his election in Empiricism, but
shrinks from the acceptance of its necessary implications, and thereby
forfeits his title to rank among the great leaders of philosophy.
Teaching that every faculty of the mind is the effect of impressions
made by the Environment upon the Organism, he should also teach that
the mind is nothing distinct from the organism, and that the mind's
faculties will perish at the disintegration of the organism; that, as
fire is a mere phenomenon of chemical combination, ceasing with it, so
life is a mere phenomenon of organic "re-arrangement of parts," and
will cease when the Dissolution which is the converse and sequel of
Evolution has become complete; and that the "theory of a 'soul' is as
completely exploded as the theory of 'phlogiston.'"
Such is the opinion of an unsympathising reviewer, who calls himself
a Positivist of the latest development. He despises Comte, praises
Hamilton, and preaches the truth of Dualism. "If," he writes, "physical
science sneeringly objects that mental science proceeds on a sheer
assumption of mind, the retort is crushing and cogent that physical
science proceeds on the sheer assumption of matter. Who ever yet
demonstrated the existence of either?... Only by admitting what
can neither be demonstrated without a begging of the question, nor
doubted without a _reductio ad absurdam_ of all intelligence,--namely,
the natural veracity of the intuitive and cognitive powers,--is a
truly positive science possible." From this dualistic Positivism he
predicts the rise of a new Theology. "We believe that Theism must
be re-theologized on the basis of pure Positivism, as the absolute
condition of its future growth." From the same point of view, Mr.
Spencer's "reconciliation of Science and Religion" is "pretended"; and
his "philosophy is chiefly valuable as indicating the rapid spread of
the true spirit of Positivism," but, "like Comtism, it possesses little
or no value as an exposition of Positivism in the highest departments
of science."
This censure of Spencer was combated in a subsequent number of the
_Index_, by a writer signing himself "Evolutionist." The Editor
prints his letter, and replies to it briefly:--"1. The 'unknowable'
must be an absolute blank to every intelligence. It surely cannot
be held legitimate to make _any predicate_ of it whatever, as Mr.
Spencer himself admits. Yet he does make predicates of it which are
'derived from our own natures' and thus violates his own principle.
'Omnipresence' is simply _presence throughout all space_; and what do
we know of 'presence' at all but by our own experience? Mr. Spencer
does the very thing he forbids us to do, in making this predication.
"2. The difference between him and us is briefly this. He denies that
we know anything of Force; we affirm that we know it just so far as it
perceptibly acts. The Cause of Nature we maintain to be known _in its
effects_. Hence Force is not to us the 'Unknowable,' but is rather the
'God of Science,' known just so far as Nature is known."
Here follow some stringent criticisms of the distinction between
phenomena and noumena accepted by Mill as well as Spencer, which we
pass over as being somewhat unintelligible without a longer discussion
than can here be given to them.
On the subject of our first quotation--Empiricism--many readers may
like to peruse the opinion of a writer far removed from Mr. Abbott in
philosophy. The following is Hegel's dictum:--
"In Empiricism lies the great principle that whatever is true must
be in the actual world and present to sensation.... Touching this
principle it has been justly observed that, in what we call Experience,
as distinct from the individual sensation of individual facts, there
are two elements. First, there is the infinitely complex matter, which
so far as itself is concerned is individualised: secondly, there is the
form, as seen in the characteristics of universality and necessity.
Empiricism no doubt can point to many, almost innumerable, similar
perceptions: but, after all, no multitude, however great, can be the
same thing as universality. Similarly, Empiricism reaches so far as the
perception of changes in succession and of objects in juxtaposition or
co-existence; but it presents no necessary connexion. If sensation,
therefore, is to maintain its claim to be the sole basis of what men
hold for truth, universality and necessity can have no right to exist:
they become an accident of our minds, a mere custom, the content of
which might be otherwise constituted than it is.
"It is an important corollary of this theory, that in the empirical
mode of treatment the truths and rules of justice and morality, as
well as the body of religion, are exhibited as the work of chance, and
stripped of their objective character and inner truth."[133]
Considering how far Hegel confirms the American Positivist's opinion
respecting the inevitable conclusions of consistent Empiricism,
Mr. Spencer may with reason be congratulated on his very happy
inconsistency.
The subject of quotation No. 2--Spencer's position in regard of the
Unknowable--contains a censure which unites in alliance many widely
differing authorities on this side the Atlantic. Some of these assail
it from an extremely hostile point of view; but the criticism of others
is conceived in a half-friendly, half-indifferent spirit. Mr. Spencer
has very lately published a third volume of "Essays," and devotes
Articles X. and XI. to his reviewers.[134] It need hardly be said that
these pages will repay perusal. We shall here venture on giving a brief
account of his defence as it presents itself to our own understanding.
The most salient difference between him and his critics _generally_,
seems to lie in this circumstance;--they begin by taking the word
"Unknowable" in its strict (_i.e._ its proper) signification. Hence
they appear to assume that by "Absolute" he means--or _ought_ to
mean even when seeming to say the contrary--"_absolutely_ abstract."
Now of a mere, that is, a pure and complete abstraction, nothing can
be predicated, because the idea is perfectly empty. It is in fact a
Nothingness.
But suppose we say of this Absolute, (as Spencer does), it exists;--we
_have_ predicated something already;--something which destroys its
complete emptiness. And again, if we are asked or, (what is better),
ask ourselves how we _know_ that an Absolute does exist, and proceed
to reply, as Spencer himself replies, because it _must_ exist; we
shall have made respecting our Absolute this highest of all possible
predications. It is not only Being, but necessary Being, or, in
other words, it is a Self-Existent. Still more, since it is so in
contradistinction from the universe of relativities, it is The
Self-Existent, a totally different idea from that which the American
editor dissects.
But now comes the question, who or what is answerable for the
Reviewer's misconception,--Spencer or his critics? Is it the poverty
of language, or the law of controversial sequency,--a law under
which every thought arises as antagonistic to some other thought,
and afterwards, when arisen and firmly established so as to become
the subject of analysis, is found to yield more than was at first
conceived. Then, of course, another antithesis arises respecting it,
and we have to decide how much and what is truly meant, a question
which often comes before us in this shape:--Is our thought merely the
_not_ so and so, or is it a real _substantive_ idea? In the former
case it is one-sided and negative; in the latter it is many-sided and
affirmative.
At the first blush, it seems natural to blame Mr. Herbert Spencer.
Every one must feel astonished to find how much he himself knows
of the Unknowable. The following sentences, however, contain a
good account of one amongst his principal explanations of this
apparent incongruity. Speaking of Mr. Martineau's conception of the
Creator,[135] he writes (_Essays_, Vol. III. p. 299):--
"Finding, as just shewn, that it leaves the essential mystery unsolved;
I do not see that it has an advantage over the doctrine of the
Unknowable in its unqualified shape. There cannot, I think, be more
than temporary rest in a proximate solution which takes for its basis
the ultimately insoluble. Just as thought cannot be prevented from
passing beyond Appearance, and trying to conceive the Cause behind;
so, following out the interpretation Mr. Martineau offers, thought
cannot be prevented from asking what Cause it is which restricts the
Cause he assigns. And if we must admit that the question under this
eventual form cannot be answered, may we not as well confess that the
question under its immediate form cannot be answered? Is it not better
candidly to acknowledge the incompetence of our intelligence, rather
than to persist in calling that an explanation which does but disguise
the inexplicable? Whatever answer each may give to this question, he
cannot rightly blame those who, finding in themselves an indestructible
consciousness of an ultimate Cause, whence proceed alike what we call
the Material Universe and what we call Mind, refrain from affirming
anything respecting it; because they find it as inscrutable in nature,
as it is inconceivable in extent and duration."
There will be to many people much force in this plea for leaving
inscrutables amidst their primary obscurities. But it is open to a
rejoinder suggested by Mr. Spencer himself,--you cannot prevent the
Mind from inquiring; and, in point of fact, Spencer in person leads the
way. He places before us the ultimate idea of a self-existent First
Cause. Now surely he might reflect that such an Idea not only permits
but invites analysis;--it is no empty abstraction, but a substantive
thought and a full one. But he bars analysis to his own satisfaction,
by saying that the Idea is in its own Nature inscrutable. Respecting
this position two questions arise. First, if inscrutable as to its
ultimate nature--its highest essence, and deepest thought,--is it so
in its attributes? Next, if Spencer's special walk in philosophy ends
with the bare positing of this Idea, must _all_ Philosophy do the
same? Suppose the Physicist says--"Here I learn to know the Fact of a
self-existent universal First Cause," may not the investigator of our
Practical human Reason try to discover whether an Ethical view ought
or ought not to be taken of this Self-Existent? To answer "No," is
either to make physical philosophy the _sole_ philosophy; or it is to
dismember and disjoint the universal Body of Truth into departmental
carcase-fragments;--a process which never can begin till all Life
has been effectually crushed out of the Whole.[136] For every one
who takes wide views of Philosophy;--for every inquirer into First
Principles;--above all, if Mr. Spencer will permit us to say so, for
every Encyclopædic writer like himself, a question must arise the
answer to which it is incumbent on all and each to ascertain, "Can we
have any conscious idea whatever of a First Cause without including
that very fact of Personality from which Spencer appears to shrink?"
Nay we may rather put the point thus: "Is not our idea and definition
of _Causality_ derived from Personal existence, and apart from this
source of derivation, does not the derived idea perish?"--If so, to
speak of a non-personal First Cause both of the outside world and
of mind itself is to use words to which no thinker can consciously
attach any real meaning. There must, says Mr. Spencer, be Power behind
Appearance;--in other words, Phenomena imply a Cause behind them,--but
to add that this Power or Cause is conceivably impersonal, seems
nothing better than to imagine (Hibernicè) at the beginning of the
phenomenal chain, a _prior_ phenomenon which in its own nature and _ex
vi verborum_ cannot account for a Beginning[137] at all;--cannot, to
use Mr. Spencer's expression, be "ultimate"; and, in short, requires to
be accounted for, itself.
The truth is, that such ideas as First, Ultimate, Power accounting
for appearance, or Cause underlying phenomena, cannot be spoken of as
altogether Unknowable; because they imply and contain within themselves
certain knowable and strongly defined characteristics. Pressed by his
critics, Mr. Spencer becomes painfully aware of this truth; and is
fearful of being driven by logic and philosophical consistency to plead
guilty of believing in a Personal Author of the Universe, and of making
Theism the ultimate word of Science. We see on pp. 292 and 302 of Vol.
III. how he manifests a preference for the phrase non-relative, _vice_
Absolute; meaning thereby (if he means anything new) to replace an
affirmative idea by a negational abstract, empty enough to land him at
once in American Positivism. For, _if_ the non-relative means _more_
than to say that he is unable to predicate _relativity_ of the _whole_
Universe of things--if it means _more_ than an avowal of Positivist
ignorance--it really does mean a true Absolute after all; and very few
students of Mr. Spencer will doubt that in the sense of an Absolute
(not necessarily Hegelian), this ground idea of his must be accepted.
As courteous antagonists, we will endeavour to abstain from joining
with Mr. Sidgwick in the severest censure which has yet befallen Mr.
Spencer,--the imputation of a "mazy inconsistency," a "fundamental
incoherence," and an "inability to harmonize different lines of
thought." We rather wish to congratulate him on presenting such
an appearance before the eye of a critic so accomplished, and so
equitable; it is a sign that we have not as yet heard Mr. Spencer's
final utterance. He is, we are quite sure, divided by a wide tract of
thought from the American Positivists;--but we are _not_ sure that
he may not ultimately be found amid the ranks of Scientific Theists.
This at the present moment appears the most natural development of
the thoughts maintained in his recently published volume. That the
nature of GOD, considered as the "ultimate cause of what we
call the material universe and what we call mind," is to us at present
inscrutable;--that clouds and darkness are round about Him;--that
His ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts, no
meditative Theist will deny. But, though the Heavens are higher than
the Earth, though beatified spirits worship in humble adoration of
the Incomprehensible, yet the measureless distance does not hinder us
from knowing Him as a Spirit, and therefore as a PERSON; nor
yet from confidently affirming that Righteousness and Judgment are the
habitation of His throne.
G.--MR. J. S. MILL AS AN INDEPENDENT MORALIST.
Few passages of Mr. Mill's writings are better worth reading than pages
123, 4, of his "Examination of Sir W. Hamilton's Philosophy." In these
pages the eminent writer asserts his own strong moral sentiments, and
throws to the winds that inconsistent Utilitarianism with which he had
trained his mind to associate them. He will worship no Unknowable Being
whose supreme moral nature does not affirm our human morality. "Why is
this?" an opponent might fairly ask; "is it not useful so to do? is
not such worship conducive to that noblest final end, the interest of
mankind?" By saying "No" you affirm two things: one, the _dissociation_
of Religion from Utility; a second, the indivisible _association_ of
Religion with absolute Morality.
Some antagonists may consider the first of these two propositions
inadmissible, the second objectionable, or at all events, exceedingly
doubtful. Every one who maintains that Natural Theology has, in
addition to its other elements, a firm and moral ground, will accept
with ready assent the second proposition, and will say that the
truth or falsehood of the first depends on the meaning attached to
an ambiguous word. We are equally sure that "Godliness is profitable
for all things," and that "Honesty is the best policy." But then
we are quite sure also, that the final cause of Godliness is not
profit, nor its essential nature a love of gain; and that policy is
not a true description of honesty, nor the being politic the true and
proper aim of the honest man. And Mr. Mill, when his moral sentiments
asserted themselves, felt these certainties as elements of his inner
life. Rather than worship a Being whose unknown moral attributes fell
beneath, not the dictates of Utility, but the purest instincts of his
own inmost morality, Mr. Mill goes on to declare that he is willing
to suffer the horrors of Eternal death.[138] Hell is better than a
violation of his own moral nature. Can this be a declaration deduced
from the supreme law of Interest,--is it not rather a foundation maxim
of independent morality? Violate such foundation maxims, says the
independent moralist, and you need not even speak of "Going to hell,"
hell will come to you. Sooner or later you will find its undying
torments within you.
In an article on the death of Mr. Mill, the _Pall Mall Gazette_
expresses its perception of his leading inconsistency as follows:--
"It is impossible to read Mr. Mill's works with any attention, and in
particular to look with intelligence on the later part of his career,
without seeing that by temperament he was essentially religious, but
that as far as positive doctrine went his mind was an absolute blank.
We believe that it was this sharp contrast between theory and feeling
which drove him into the schemes for the improvement of the world
which have been exposed to so many, and, in some respects, to such
well-founded objections. Having to love something, and being, as it
were, chained down by his own logic to this world and this life, past,
present, and future, he struggled to make a sort of religion out of
man as he might come to be after centuries or millenniums. Humanity,
progress, a realization of all the ideals at which his theories
pointed--these were his divinities, for he was a man who could not do
without some divinity, and he could find no other. We do not think
that his life or his thoughts were triumphant. If he had consistently
followed out his own views, if he had carried out his Benthamism with
perfect consistency, the result would have been too hard, too grim, too
dismal for his eager and sensitive heart. Hence came the faltering,
the inconsistency, the romance of his later days. It is a spectacle
which may well humble every one who looks on it with intelligence and
sympathy. From us, at least, it shall never draw one word of sarcasm,
or one thought which is not full of deep respect, regret, and pity. He
bore a burden common to many. If he bent under it, it was not because
his strength was less, but because his sensibility was greater. When
he died one of the tenderest and most passionate hearts that ever set
to work an intellect of iron was laid to rest. May he rest in peace,
and find, if it be possible, that his knowledge was less complete than
he perhaps supposed, and that there was more to be known than was
acknowledged in his philosophy." (_Pall Mall Gazette_, Saturday, May,
10, 1873.)
A little earlier in the same article we find another paragraph worthy
of careful consideration:--"No succession of writers ever exercised
greater power over the fortunes of this nation, we might say of any
nation, than Locke, Hume, Adam Smith, Bentham, and Mr. Mill. What may
be described as the theory of modern life has been thought out by them,
and translated into its practical equivalents with a persistency, a
precision, a degree of method and calmness unequalled in the history of
thought. We do not say that their results are complete, but we do say
that their teaching has been successful to an unexampled degree; and
that, however unpopular it may be with ardent and enthusiastic persons,
it is impossible to believe that it could have done what it has done
without possessing a very strong hold on human nature."
Viewing this extract by the light of the one before cited, we cannot
help asking what side of human nature is it to which the Benthamite
doctrines attach themselves? Shall we not regret that the hard, the
grim, and the dismal, should characterize our 19th century philosophy?
Philosophy that is falsely so called; for the true is "not harsh and
crabbed as dull fools suppose."
The text of this Essay and its earlier notes were completed while
Mr. Mill was in the ripeness of his powers, and when the present
writer never expected to outlive him. Death softens our view of one
who has passed away--the bygone life becomes like a moonlighted
landscape--asperities hidden in shadow, and a soft radiance poured over
each grander eminence. So may it be felt by the critic of every great
departed! If, indeed, it prove otherwise with Mr. Mill, the preventing
cause will probably be found in certain pages of his published
"Autobiography."
H.--ARCHEBIOSIS, OR SPONTANEOUS GENERATION.
The origin of Life is a question that naturally excites much interest,
and consequently has been much discussed. It is obviously a problem
that presents difficulties of no ordinary kind, and therefore it is
by no means astonishing that many theories have been started and
statements made which have in turn been quickly contradicted.
It is now known that the whole cycle of phenomena--collectively denoted
by the term "_Life_,"--is manifested by a substance possessing definite
physical and chemical properties, and by no other. This substance
constitutes the entire organism of the lower forms of life, whether
animal or vegetable, and also of the higher in their earliest stage,
while from it by various metamorphoses are developed the different
histological elements composing the complex tissues of higher animals
and plants. Its name Protoplasm is in consequence exceedingly apt, when
properly understood.
As to the origin of Protoplasm (or apparent Life) it is clear from a
little consideration that two questions may be asked: first, how did
Protoplasm arise? and secondly, when once this substance had come into
being are we to suppose that from that time to this all Protoplasm has
been derived by unbroken descent from the first Protoplasm, or does
fresh Protoplasm even now arise in the same way as did the first?--in
other words, does the transition from the inorganic to the organic,
from what has never lived to what is living, still take place as it
must have taken place at some period or another?
To neither of these questions can Physical Science return a perfectly
certain and definite answer. And it must be confessed that as far as
our knowledge of Nature goes, those have the best of it who maintain
first, that all existing Protoplasm implies pre-existing Protoplasm;
secondly, that as to the method, the conditions of the real origin
of Protoplasm nothing whatsoever is known; and thirdly, that,
notwithstanding all assertions and experiments to the contrary, the
origin of living things from dead and decaying organic matter (_i.e._,
matter that has lived), or from inorganic matter under given conditions
(spontaneous generation, generatio æquivoca, archebiosis) has never
been proved and demonstrated in such a manner as to allow us no room
for hesitation, no place for doubt.
The difficulties and dangers besetting this thorny and much-vexed
subject will be better understood if we institute a short examination
into the history and present condition of the doctrine of Spontaneous
Generation.
It is certain from the results of astronomical and geological
investigation, that at an exceedingly remote epoch, estimated by untold
millions of years, the earth's surface was absolutely unfitted for the
presence of life; nay, more, that even the laws of chemical combination
were suspended, and in abeyance. After the glowing spheroid cooled
down, and various chemical compounds were formed, life as a matter of
fact made its appearance on the earth. Throughout the inorganic world
the continuity is unbroken--the present is truly the child of the
past. But in the organic world it is not so. Whether life arose in the
natural course of universal law, or how it did arise, we cannot tell,
scientifically, that is to say; no assertion, one way or the other,
admits either of proof or disproof. There are absolutely no data to
proceed upon. The very first organic remains discovered belong to a
comparatively high type. It is as though in a garden every plant and
bush burst at once into full flower, and never showed the flower in the
bud.
These points are very well put in a passage of Littré:[139] "Jusqu'à ce
moment, nous avons cheminé de phénomènes en phénomènes qui se passaient
tous sous le régime des lois chimiques et physiques. Leur succession
ne présentait aucune solution de continuité; les degrés tenaient l'un
à l'autre; et c'est cette déduction qui satisfait l'esprit humain, et
qu'il nomme explication. Une fois que l'on reconnait une dissémination
première, dans l'espace, d'une matière douée de gravitation et de
mouvement, tout en ignorant absolument d'où vient cette matière and
d'où procèdent son mouvement et sa dissémination, le reste s'ensuit.
Des amas qu'on appelle soleils se forment par condensation; cette
condensation développe une immense chaleur; le refroidissement graduel
sépare les amas primordiaux en amas secondaires et plus petits qui
se meuvent comme lui, se refroidissent comme lui, et représentent
nos planètes, nos satellites, et en particulier notre terre. On a
l'univers, on passe au monde, et du monde au globe terrestre.
"Mais là, sur le monde terrestre, un hiatus se présente. Un phénomène
nouveau, une force nouvelle apparaît, et la vie se développe en
végétalité et animalité. Ce phénomène nouveau, cette force nouvelle,
cette vie ne succèdent point par une action continue aux actions
continues dont le soleil et la terre sont le théâtre; du moins, en
l'état actuel de nos connaissances, la continuité nous échappe. On
conçoit, grâce à des faits expérimentaux recueillis de toutes parts et
transformés en lois, comment notre globe se refroidit, comment, en se
refroidissant, il prend sa forme, comment l'atmosphère, les continents,
la mer se constituent; mais on ne conçoit plus comment la vie y parait
à un moment donné. Et ce fut bien à un moment donné: pendant des
millions de siècles, la terre, vu son incandescence, fut impropre à
toute vie. Quand la température y eut baissé au degré compatible avec
les existences vivantes, ces existences se montrèrent; mais comment?
par quel procédé?
"Il ne faut pourtant pas faire valoir outre mesure cette discontinuité.
Une discontinuité, autre que celle qui appartient à l'apparition de la
vie, est survenue dans le cours du développement de la terre. Quand les
particules qui la composent, étaient animées d'une immense chaleur,
une dissociation complète y régnait; elles n'obéissaient qu'aux lois
du mouvement, de la gravitation, de la chaleur et de la lumière; les
lois chimiques, c'est-à-dire de combinaison et de décombinaison, n'y
étaient qu'à l'état virtuel. Elles passèrent à l'état effectif, dès
que l'abaissement de la température le permit. Je sais bien qu'une
différence considérable existe entre ces deux discontinuités: en effet,
depuis lors, il a toujours été possible de reproduire à volonté les
faits chimiques; et, toutes les fois que nous en avons besoin, nous
répétons le phénomène d'origine qui se produisit dans les combinaisons
et décombinaisons. Pour la vie, c'est autre chose; elle a été une
fois émise, et, depuis le phénomène d'origine, elle ne se propage
que par génération. Un être vivant est necessaire pour produire un
être vivant; et, ni par les procédés de la nature, ni par ceux de la
science, ce qui se fit au moment créateur ne se refait. Malgré cette
considérable différence, il demeure que la terre a possédé des forces
virtuelles qui sont entrées en action, quand les conditions générales,
se modifiant graduellement, l'ont permis."
A little further on he continues:--"Au point de vue d'origine, on
abandonnera la question comme toutes les questions qui impliquent une
cause première. La philosophie positive s'exprime là-dessus comme elle
s'exprime touchant toutes les choses hyperphysiques, c'est-à-dire
placées au delà de l'expérience. Quand elle entend les matérialistes
prononcer que la vie est le résultat des forces physiques et chimiques
dont on connaît l'action, elle refuse d'accepter une solution qui
dépasse les prémisses. Mais elle n'écarte pas la solution matérialiste
au profit de la solution théologique; l'intervention d'un Dieu
créateur est également invérifiable par l'expérience, et, partant,
atteinte de la même fin de non-recevoir. Maintenant, si on demande
à la philosophie positive quelle est, à elle, sa solution entre la
génération matérialiste et la création surnaturelle, elle répond
qu'elle n'a aucune solution à proposer, que rien ne peut la forcer à
croire ce qui n'est pas démontré, et qu'elle accepte, avec autant de
fermeté que d'humilité, une ignorance invincible sur tout ce qui est
indemontrable."
In the first passage certain salient points are strikingly brought out,
above all the vast difference between the worlds organic and inorganic;
but, next, how much soever a Positivist may be pleased to believe only
that which admits of phenomenal verification, it is not every one,
especially if given to thought, who would willingly endorse the second
paragraph. If we know only what we can verify, many beliefs must needs
be abandoned, and amongst them some which have received the almost
universal assent of mankind. Knowledge (in the sense of verifiable
knowledge) and Belief may appear two widely different things; but it
should never be forgotten that we often accept the one as surely as the
other.
The ancients held that living things arose from the earth at any
time, engendered by the warmth of the sun and moisture. Absurd as it
may seem, the belief that blue-bottle flies, etc., were a natural
result of the decay of meat and other organic matter obtained credence
even in comparatively modern times. Redi, an eminent Italian, first
demonstrated experimentally the falsehood of this doctrine, and for
some time the hypothesis of spontaneous generation appeared to have
received a death-blow. And by degrees the conviction that every living
thing proceeded from a germ gained strength, and was confirmed by the
rapidly extending use of the microscope. Yet in the eighteenth century
certain experiments of Needham seemed to establish the fact that in
boiled infusions where presumably all germs were destroyed, small
Infusoria made their appearance even when means were taken to exclude
the entrance of fresh germs. Buffon lent the authority of his great
name. These experiments were repeated by the Abbé Spallanzani, who
showed by more careful methods the fallacy of the conclusions drawn. A
passage in Sir B. Brodie[140] which alludes to these facts may be worth
quoting:--
"Crites. Then am I to understand that you would reject altogether the
hypothesis of equivocal generation, which supposes that under certain
circumstances, even at the present time, particles of inorganic
matter are brought together, and so united as to become endowed with
organization and life?
"Eubulus. The question is one of great interest, and I will refer you
to Ergates for an answer, knowing at the same time pretty well what
that answer will be.
"Ergates. Of course Crites refers to the production of those minute
creatures, known by the name of _Infusoria_, in the experiments of
Walter Needham, and some others.
"It is true that in these experiments certain vegetable and animal
infusions, after no very long period of time, when examined by the
microscope, are found to contain a multitude of minute creatures,
of various forms, exhibiting signs of spontaneous motion, and
multiplying their species in the usual manner. Some of these are
even of a complicated structure, much beyond what might, _à priori_,
be expected as the result of the first attempt of inorganic matter
to enter into the realms of organic life. The subject has been so
frequently discussed, that I need not trouble you with the details of
the arguments which have led the most eminent naturalists to believe
that these creatures are not really spontaneously engendered, but that
they are derived from minute ova which are present in the air, and
which, when placed under circumstances favourable to their development,
burst into life: in the same way as the egg undergoes those changes
which convert its contents into a bird, when placed under the influence
of the animal heat of the parent. But even if this view of the matter
be not correct, the case is not really altered; for, after all,
the _Infusoria_ are never detected except in vegetable and animal
infusions, which necessarily presuppose the existence of organic life."
But it is one thing to demolish the theory and statements of an
antagonist, and another to erect a structure in their place.
However completely Spallanzani had demonstrated the faults and
untrustworthiness of Needham's results, he had not established the
opposite doctrine, and to many it seemed that the very conditions
under which his experimentation was conducted, were sufficient to
prevent the development of life. But the work begun by Schulze and
Schwann and ended by Pasteur apparently has supplied what was wanting
in Spallanzani's researches. The evidence is thus admirably summed by
Professor Huxley:[141]--
"It is demonstrable, that a fluid eminently fit for the development
of the lowest forms of life, but which contains neither germs, nor any
protein compound, gives rise to living things in great abundance, if
it is exposed to ordinary air; while no such development takes place,
if the air with which it is in contact is mechanically freed from the
solid particles, which ordinarily float in it and which maybe made
visible by appropriate means.
"It is demonstrable, that the great majority of these particles are
destructible by heat, and that some of them are germs, or living
particles, capable of giving rise to the same forms of life as those
which appear when the fluid is exposed to unpurified air.
"It is demonstrable, that inoculation of the experimental fluid with
a drop of liquid known to contain living particles, gives rise to the
same phenomena as exposure to unpurified air.
"And it is further certain that these living particles are so minute
that the assumption of their suspension in ordinary air presents
not the slightest difficulty. On the contrary, considering their
lightness and the wide diffusion of the organisms which produce them,
it is impossible to conceive that they should not be suspended in the
atmosphere in myriads."
The experimental means by which these facts are proved may be briefly
stated:--
I. The air contains solid particles. Professor Tyndall has shown, as
all who have read "Dust and Disease" know to their own discomfort, that
the purest common air, when submitted to a beam of electric light,
renders the track of that beam visible. Ergo, it must contain solid
particles capable of scattering light.
II. These particles are mostly destructible by heat, or may be
mechanically strained off. He has shown this by the fact that common
air which has passed through a red-hot tube, or through a filter of
cotton-wool, will no longer render the track of the electric beam
visible.
III. Many of these particles are germs. Schulze and Schwann proved that
when air is passed through red-hot tubes, then through a fluid which is
capable of affording a nidus to the germs, if present, no development
of life takes place. Similarly Schr[oe]der established the same fact by
using a strainer of cotton-wool. Further, Pasteur gave an additional
proof by microscopical examination, as well as by a direct experiment.
He passed air through gun-cotton, dissolved this in ether; and in the
collodion germs were clearly recognizable. Also he plunged a piece of
cotton-wool through which air had been strained into an experimental
fluid. This fluid soon swarmed with forms of life.
IV. The experimental fluid may be inoculated by simple exposure to
air as well as by any fluids known to contain living forms; _e.g._,
if the fluid be placed in an open vessel, living forms soon make
their appearance. Yet supposing the aperture of the vessel, instead
of pointing vertically upwards, be turned obliquely or downwards, the
fluid will remain clear for an indefinite time. Similarly a drop of an
infusion containing living forms added to the experimental fluid soon
causes it to swarm with life. The forms that appear are the same in
either case.
V. The experimental fluid cannot give rise itself to these forms. It is
known as Pasteur's solution, and consists of water, ammonium, tartrate,
sugar, and yeast ash. Hence there is no organic matter in it. If proper
care be taken, it may be kept for an indefinite time.
VI. The germs are so minute that in many cases, even when known to be
present, they are scarcely visible to the highest microscopic powers.
They must be universally diffused, as any organic infusion left exposed
soon swarms with the forms to which they give rise.
Such an array of facts, proved experimentally over and over again,
must convince the most tenacious sceptic, and he may feel inclined to
agree with the opinion expressed in the following passage from Sir B.
Brodie:[142]--
"Crites. Then, if I understand you rightly, you have arrived at these
conclusions. First, that there was a time when this earth was not in
a fit state for the maintenance of either animal or vegetable life.
Secondly, that in its present condition there is no evidence of any
law being in operation which would account for any living beings being
called into existence except as the offspring of other living beings
which previously existed; and that from these premises we cannot fail
to arrive at this further conclusion, that the first introduction of
life on earth must have been by some special act of the creative power,
of which we have no experience at present.
"Eubulus. I suspect that this, really and truly, is all we actually
know on the subject."
Notwithstanding this apparently irresistible amount of evidence,
the question of abiogenesis has recently been revived by Dr. C.
Bastian in a well-known book, "The Beginnings of Life." Dr. Bastian
believes that he has demonstrated the origin of living organisms from
organic infusions as well as from solutions of salts containing no
organic matter: nay, even more wonderful facts than these which it is
unnecessary to specify. His experiments are so numerous, his assertions
and figures so clear and definite, and his reputation for previous
good scientific work once so high, that the book has caused no small
stir and discussion. Could Dr. Bastian's facts be only established,
they would inevitably revolutionize the whole science of Biology.
However, the same fate which has overtaken his predecessors has
befallen Dr. Bastian himself. A nearly universal verdict of "Not
proven" has been returned: and not only is the accuracy of his
experimentation denied, but even worse accusations have been brought.
To enter into details of his experiments would require too much space,
but it may not be uninteresting to detail some of the peculiarities and
difficulties which attend on the investigation of such a subject as
Spontaneous Generation.
At the very threshold of the inquiry stands a grand difficulty. Strange
as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that notwithstanding the
many years, the immense labour bestowed by illustrious men on this
subject, next to nothing is known of the relations existing between
the lowest forms of life, animal or vegetable (especially the latter),
as well as their germs, and varying physical and chemical conditions.
Heat, light, cold and darkness, alkalies and acids with other chemical
compounds, one would imagine to be not without their influence. Yet
what this influence may be in a given case, none can tell. Enough is
known in the way of a few detached facts to make it certain that these
agents have very decided effects. It might be thought that any one
who wished to attack the problem of Spontaneous Generation anew would
first try to obtain some connected knowledge on this point. Indeed,
until it has been cleared up somewhat, it is not very evident what good
Experimentation on Heterogenesis can do. It is much as if a chemist
were to throw a handful of stuff (what he knew not) into a crucible,
and then expect a valuable result. It can scarcely be doubted that
many of these lower organisms live and grow under conditions which _à
priori_ might seem incompatible with vitality.
It is clear also that the work of one experimenter ought to be such as
may admit of repetition by another with the same result. Now no one
who attempts the study of this subject of Spontaneous Generation, can
fail to be struck with the immense mass of conflicting evidence. Some
mischievous spirit appears to have purposely thrown confusion over the
whole. Facts are alternately stated and denied. It is very hard to be
sure of the right road, even for an experienced person.
Another point relates to the value of the evidence when obtained. It
can scarcely be doubted that out of a given number of experiments
undertaken to establish a case of Heterogenesis or Archebiosis, great
value should be attached to the negative evidence afforded by those
that disprove the supposed fact. A little consideration will show the
reason. The precautions to be taken against the intrusion of germs
are innumerable: a slight exposure to the air, accidental contact of
an unheated rod or tube, or neglect of some other particulars may
inoculate the experimental fluid. Hence even with care the chances are
many in favour of some such accidental intrusion, and great caution
should always be exercised before an affirmative result can be regarded
as firmly established.
And further there is the experimentalist himself to be taken into
account. The task requires an intimate knowledge of many minute
organisms, and the different forms they assume; an acquaintance, wide
and accurate, with various experimental methods; a clear view of the
end and the various precautions required to attain that end; a mind
ready to contrive, prone to doubt and to hesitate, rather than to be
convinced. Men vary much in the amount of what is scientifically termed
their personal equation, and one difficulty in accepting the results of
a piece of work is the danger of misplaced confidence.
As was said before, Dr. Bastian's attempt to demonstrate the reality of
Spontaneous Generation has been a failure. His experiments have been
repeated, and failed to give the like results in the hands of competent
men. Witness the following quotation from a careful review of his book
in the Microscopical Journal.[143] It relates to the now celebrated
cheese and turnip solution.
"Nevertheless in consequence of the interest which Dr. Bastian's work
has excited, we have made the experiment (and that repeatedly) as
directed by him. This is not the occasion on which to give the details
of the experiments in question. It will, however, perhaps add some
value to the remarks which it has been our duty to make when we state
that, carefully following Dr. Bastian's directions, using at the same
time great care as to cleanliness and due boiling, we have obtained
results which _in every single instance_, out of more than forty tubes
closed on four separate occasions, simply contradict Dr. Bastian. We
believe, then, that Dr. Bastian's last dogma in archebiosis,--his
belief in turnip solution with a fragment of cheese--must be placed in
the same category as his colloidal urea, his spontaneously generated
bog-moss, his fungi born in crystals, his unmistakable processes of
heterogenesis, and his 'watching' and 'experimentation' in general."
The reviewer proceeds to question whether Dr. Bastian has even the
knowledge requisite for so delicate an investigation. It would be
supposed that he was intimately acquainted with various microscopical
structures; but we read,[144] "Professor Huxley gives a contribution
towards the determination of the personal value in Dr. Bastian's
researches. 'He (Dr. Bastian) will recollect that he wrote to me asking
permission to bring for my examination certain preparations of organic
structures, which he declared he had clear and positive evidence to
prove to have been developed in his closed and digested tubes. Dr.
Bastian will remember that when the first of these wonderful specimens
was put under my microscope I told him at once that it was nothing
but a fragment of the leaf of the common bog-moss (Sphagnum), and he
will recollect that I had to fetch Schacht's book "Die Pflanzenzelle"
and show him a figure which fitted very well with what we had under
the microscope before I could get him to listen to my suggestion, and
that only actual comparison with Sphagnum, after he had left my house,
forced him to admit the astounding blunder which he had made.'
"Of these three pieces of evidence, the last is the most important,
for, whilst it places us on our guard with regard to Dr. Bastian's
accuracy generally, it at the same time furnishes a key to the
explanation of a number of his experiments in which, according to
that precipitate discoverer, 'organisms' were found on opening tubes
containing infusions which had been boiled and sealed hermetically."
How then are we to sum up the case? for or against Dr. Bastian? Can any
thoughtful person admit the conclusions of one apparently so unfit for
his task? The best answer is in the words of his Reviewer.[145]
"Briefly it is to be said that the chapters in this book on
heterogenesis, contain a reckless attempt to revolutionize biological
doctrine without a single demonstration of fact to justify it, even
if it be admitted that the observations and drawings cited are
accurate. Revolution in science as in politics can only be justified by
success--a wanton attempt in either sphere must deserve the severest
condemnation. Dr. Bastian by his exhibition of himself in dealing with
heterogenesis writes himself down as incapable--as inadmissible in the
character of a witness in a scientific investigation. The Sphagnum
delusion is now explained, for it becomes evident that we have to deal
with an individual with whom such delusions are no rare exceptions.
"We should indeed be sorry to believe that Dr. Bastian is himself
aware of the injury which he is doing to the cause of science, by
promulgating these rash assertions as to the beginnings and changes of
living things; we altogether decline to entertain the notion that he
is himself conscious of the baselessness and flimsy character of his
startling discoveries, and is nevertheless willing at the expense of
injury to the cause of intellectual progress, to obtain for himself
a temporary notoriety. On the contrary, we believe that he is under
the influence of a delusion, similar to those which from time to time
obtain notoriety in the case of 'spiritualists,' 'circle-squarers,'
and such victims of belief in the marvellous. The origin and mode of
growth of such delusions form a very interesting psychological study,
and it is only when we have obtained a proper conception of Dr. Bastian
as an abnormal psychological phenomenon that we can hope rightly to
appreciate the whole of the statements made in his book.
"Delusion and self-deception are much commoner than the world is
generally accustomed to consider them. In a very well-known and often
quoted remark we have a recognition of the wide-spread occurrence of
delusions and an attempt to explain their origin; the saying to which
we allude is, 'The wish was father to the thought.' There cannot be the
least doubt that men are unconsciously hindered or misdirected in their
estimate of fact by previously formed desires. Such a desire acts on
the mind like the suggestion of the mesmerist to an individual who has
allowed himself to be brought into the hypnotic condition. In this way
many misconceptions and strange contradictions of testimony are to be
explained."
The importance of the subject is sufficient apology for so long a
quotation. But our quotations allow us to draw one conclusion; that
so far as Spontaneous Generation is concerned human knowledge is
exactly _in statu quo_. Up to this time there is no evidence, worth
consideration, that establishes a single good case of heterogenesis;
nay, rather all evidence points to the conclusion that Protoplasm
is invariably derived from pre-existing Protoplasm, at least under
existing conditions. Then too there is no fact known which enables us
to say how Protoplasm arose in the first instance. On this point we are
in the darkness of complete scientific ignorance. The whole discussion
may be well closed by a striking passage from Professor Huxley's before
quoted address.[146]
"But though I cannot express this conviction of mine too strongly,
I must carefully guard myself against the supposition that I intend
to suggest that no such thing as abiogenesis ever has taken place
in the past, or ever will take place in the future. With organic
chemistry, molecular physics, and physiology yet in their infancy, and
every day making prodigious strides, I think it would be the height
of presumption for any man to say that the conditions under which
matter assumes the properties we call 'vital' may not, some day, be
artificially brought together. All I feel justified in affirming is,
that I see no reason for believing that the feat has been performed yet.
"And, looking back through the prodigious vista of the past, I find
no record of the commencement of life, and therefore I am devoid of
any means of forming a definite conclusion as to the conditions of
its appearance. Belief, in the scientific sense of the word, is a
serious matter, and needs strong foundations. To say, therefore, in the
admitted absence of evidence, that I have any belief as to the mode
in which the existing forms of life have originated, would be using
words in a wrong sense. But expectation is permissible where belief is
not; and if it were given me to look beyond the abyss of geologically
recorded time to the still more remote period when the earth was
passing through physical and chemical conditions, which it can no more
see again than a man can recal his infancy, I should expect to be a
witness of the evolution of living protoplasm from not living matter.
I should expect to see it appear under forms of great simplicity,
endowed, like existing Fungi, with the power of determining the
formation of new protoplasm from such matters as ammonium carbonates,
oxalates and tartrates, alkaline and earthy phosphates, and water,
without the aid of light. That is the expectation to which analogical
reasoning leads me; but I beg you once more to recollect that I have no
right to call my opinion anything but an act of philosophical faith."
Obviously, as Professor Huxley points out, between philosophical faith
and philosophical knowledge there is a chasm to be bridged over. But
should the hypothesis ever be verified, it would make no difference
to the reasonings of the Natural Theologian--since the concurrence
of conditions necessary for the production of the phænomenon would
manifestly ensue upon some definite though recondite law, at present
beyond our ken.
I.--ON MATERIALISM.
The ambiguities attaching to this term were mentioned in a foot-note
on our very first page. Since that note was written, the tendency of
scientific men has been to increase the number of hypotheses respecting
the nature and laws of the material world, and by consequence to
multiply the shades of signification conveyed by the word Materialism.
So long as such distinctions are confined to the territory of pure
science, whether that of the Physicist or of the Biologist, they do
not in themselves affect the religious (or ethico-religious) position
of any thinker; and need not, therefore, occasion any trouble to the
Natural Theologian. But it is worth while to observe how rashly, on
account of some such scientific discussion, a writer is said to be a
Materialist or no Materialist, by persons who (understanding little
or nothing of science themselves) drag the unhappy author outside the
pale of his own domain, and affix to him some religious or irreligious
epithet which he has neither desired nor deserved.
The philosophic idealist often escapes; he is pronounced "no
Materialist," because he doubts the substantive existence of Matter,
yet he may and often does hold that the ideal thing he calls his soul,
has a life inextricably bound up with that other ideal thing he calls
his body, and must perish with it, never to live again.
We may add the useful remark that so far as Ethico-religious
Materialism is concerned it is much more easily tested by the
Doctrine of Soul than the Doctrine of Body. For example, consistent
Materializers will always maintain that the reasoning human soul
differs from the animal soul of brutes, not in quality, but in
quantity. Dr. L. Büchner (sometimes called a "crass Materialist")
makes this assertion repeatedly, and explains it by adding--"Man has
no absolute advantage above the animal; his mental superiority being
merely relative. There is not one intellectual faculty which belongs to
man _exclusively_; his superiority is merely the result of the greater
intensity, and the proper combination, of his capacities. The enlarged
human faculties are, as we have already seen, the natural and necessary
result of the higher and more perfect development of his material organ
of thought."[147]
Turning to a more refined species of Materialism, we find a similar
value always placed on the dogma that whatever differences exist
between man and brute, they amount to a distinction not of kind, but
only of degree. The consequences hence deduced are of the very greatest
importance, and they run much as follows. No one will venture to assert
that the power of what has been hastily called Volition is, or can be,
an endowment of mere animal nature. We do not lay upon the tiger (as we
do popularly lay upon the tyrant) a moral responsibility on account of
his savage appetites. Their indulgence does not flow from any reasoning
faculty of Will. His cruelty is the movement of automatic instincts,
governed by laws like those which rule over the inanimate world; more
complicated probably, but no-ways different in their essence. The
fall of a stone, and the spring of a tiger, are both consequences of
determining laws inherent in their several modes of existence, and
moving both as machinery is moved by a steam engine. Now, a difference
in degree only, argues no difference in those essential laws which
rule equally the greater and the less. The giant and the dwarf are
alike subject to the same laws of body and mind; and man is (as we have
seen) but a mentally taller brute. The tyrant, therefore, resembles
the tiger; the human animal is moved as the other animals are moved,
and, like them, is subject to the determining law, just as the lifeless
world is so subjected. In plain words, then, this human machine is
moved like other machines. What we call Reason, spontaneity, volition,
are, when analysed, no exceptions to the law-governed mechanism of the
world we live in. Our motives make us, not we our motives. The faculty
we exercise under the name of Choice, is really neither more nor less
than a determined, unalterable, impulsion; the result of a mechanical
law. And this law has formed and now constitutes the Universe.[148]
Refined Materialism proceeds to ask in the next place, what more do
we know of Matter than its rigid undeviating reign of Law?--The great
Globe itself obeys the same Laws as the falling stone: they pervade
and direct the mechanism of the starry heavens. Life does not exempt
either vegetable or animal from the same rule of law. We have just
seen that Mankind is _not_ so made to differ, as to permit a plea of
exemption from the same empire. Ascend from Protoplasm to the highest
human intelligence,--one heritage devolves through brute to man. The
same mechanical law accounts for the "Psychogeny" of both. Mechanical
Law, in its ramifications, is (as has been said) all we really know
of Matter. It now turns out that all Mind has been developed by this
same ever-ramifying law; may be analyzed back into its elements; is
most truly expressed by its symbols; and can never be exempted from its
determinations. Mind, therefore, and Matter are resolvable into this
sole unity--the Law of ultimate mechanical movement and impulsion.
We have called this system a refined Materialism; but another name for
one of its most influential shapes has appeared and made considerable
progress, particularly on the continent of Europe. This name is Monism;
and is intended to declare that every other belief must be at best a
Dualism.[149]
What then is the true human meaning of this Monistic creed? Our souls
(if we have souls), possess the image, not of Absolute Being and
Personality, but of abstract Fate, and rayless, eyeless Necessity.
We live machines; those supposed moralities we commonly miscall
our Volitions, spring out from beneath the moving wheels. We die,
as machines go to pieces when the wheels get out of gear; and no
other account need be asked of the broken clock-work. Here lies a
man, close beside him moulders a dog. They are now what they always
were,--copartners in the same inexorable destiny.
Inexorable:--yes; for, standing beside these two graves, we see where
our higher Philosophy and our religious hopes alike lie buried. What
is Mechanical Law to us? The antithesis of Providence; therefore, with
the edict which proclaims its sway, all our prayers are ended. And
what is Man, compared with the equal dog who bears him company? One
event befals them both; yet we may ask whether before or after that one
event, Man has or can have any preeminence above the beast? Let him
be spoken of as statesman, warrior, orator, poet, painter, sculptor,
musician; none of these epithets convey any truth. He may possibly be
a speaking, striking, weaving, drawing, colouring, sound-producing
machine. But the Designer of the Universe and the human artist have
disappeared together. What we took for the author of immortal works,
an original genius, an inspired hero of his kind, "a man and a leader
of men," was a piece of wheel-work driven by unalterable law. There
was the same "must be" to him as to his dog. There never was and never
could have been, nor yet ever will be any _essential_ difference; two
spirits are gone downwards to the earth.
Man has not even the sad preeminence of Sin. Where can he find or make
room for wrong-doing, when impelling Mechanism determines all? And
where Sin is not, Repentance cannot come.
Hope is shut out along with Remorse and its unmeaning pains. Man has no
ladder of ascent left him; and why should he wish to climb? If there
were such a ladder as Jacob dreamed, its base must rest on lifeless
Law, and at its summit there would only be this same Law, enthroned and
Deified.
Thus, when the primæval Nebula arose in Space (how or why it arose
is not told us), its vapoury Law contained all that is, and all that
can be:--Plato and Shakespeare, Moses and St. John glimmered in its
tremulous twilight. Worlds inanimate and animate scintillated from
its fires. What we call Heaven and Earth are its dumb children, its
law-determined Evolutions. Thou and I, O reader, have harboured
strange fancies;--let them go;--we are but parts of the Whole; and
the Whole is a mechanical Unity. Now that we find ourselves disabused
and illuminated, our great difficulty may perhaps be to fall down,
Strauss-like, and worship this _Universum_. Can such worship, or such
an object of worship, bless and satisfy our high aspiring race? Eyes
that have watched for Righteousness, hearts that have yearned after
it, let the answer come from you! In this answer lives or dies the
twofold belief of the Natural Theologian, the twofold hope resulting
to Mankind. The belief, that is to say, in a personal Immortality, the
belief in a personal God.
It may now seem plain that the readiest test of moral or religious
Materialism is its doctrine, not of Body but of Soul. There is no
charm in such a word as Matter to differentiate the character of
a philosophy. Looking at the material world, any thinker may be a
Natural Realist or a Pure Idealist; yet being either or neither, he
may materialize, or the reverse, so far as Morals and Religion are
concerned. The simple question ought rather to be; Is man mechanically
governed by the Law which rules the world of Abiology (the lifeless
inorganic world), or is he, can he become, a Law unto himself?[150]
It would be unfair to omit impressing upon the reader's mind
that physical science _per se_ is by no means answerable for
ethico-religious Materialism. As a question of fact, it does not seem
established that students of Nature, whether physicists or biologists,
have, as such, been the chief offenders. On the contrary, for every
single instance of the kind, it seems quite probable that at least
_two_ metaphysical writers might be found guilty. Obviously, some such
large proportion may reasonably be expected, when we consider that
Determinism, (the word Mill and others prefer to Necessity), is a
theory involving a certain kind of metaphysics.
But the really largest crop of materializers arises from a Debateable
Land. There is a hybrid class of "thinkers," concerning whom the best
physical-science authorities allege that "such nebulous rascals are
mere metaphysicians," while metaphysical speculators, pure and simple,
feel quite sure that "though under a cloud, the gentlemen must be
Physicists."[151]
So far as Biology[152] is concerned, let the reader compare Mr.
Herbert Spencer's latest utterances already referred to, (in _Essays_,
Vol. III. _sub. fin._, especially pp. 249-50), with the following
passages from Mr. Huxley. "I suppose if there be an 'iron' law, it
is that of gravitation; and if there be a physical necessity, it is
that a stone, unsupported, must fall to the ground. But what is all we
really know and can know about the latter phenomenon? Simply, that,
in all human experience, stones have fallen to the ground under these
conditions; that we have not the smallest reason for believing that
any stone so circumstanced will not fall to the ground; and that we
have, on the contrary, every reason to believe that it will so fall.
It is very convenient to indicate that all the conditions of belief
have been fulfilled in this case, by calling the statement that
unsupported stones will fall to the ground, 'a law of nature.' But
when, as commonly happens, we change _will_ into _must_, we introduce
an idea of necessity which most assuredly does not lie in the observed
facts, and has no warranty that I can discover elsewhere. For my part,
I utterly repudiate and anathematize the intruder. Fact I know; and
Law I know; but what is this Necessity, save an empty shadow of my own
mind's throwing? But if it is certain that we can have no knowledge of
the nature of either matter or spirit, and that the notion of necessity
is something illegitimately thrust into the perfectly legitimate
conception of law, the materialistic position that there is nothing in
the world but matter, force, and necessity, is as utterly devoid of
justification as the most baseless of theological dogmas." ("On the
Physical Basis of Life," _Lay Sermons_, pp. 157-8.)
* * * * *
And again (pp. 159-60):--
"We live in a world which is full of misery and ignorance, and the
plain duty of each and all of us is to try to make the little corner he
can influence somewhat less miserable and somewhat less ignorant than
it was before he entered it. To do this effectually it is necessary
to be fully possessed of only two beliefs: the first, that the order
of nature is ascertainable by our faculties to an extent which is
practically unlimited; the second, that our volition counts for
something as a condition of the course of events.
"Each of these beliefs can be verified experimentally, as often as we
like to try. Each, therefore, stands upon the strongest foundation upon
which any belief can rest, and forms one of our highest truths. If we
find that the ascertainment of the order of nature is facilitated by
using one terminology, or one set of symbols, rather than another, it
is our clear duty to use the former; and no harm can accrue, so long as
we bear in mind, that we are dealing merely with terms and symbols."
Symbols, are to the true philosopher like old-fashioned copper
"tokens," privately impressed with letters and devices, but lacking the
Royal image and superscription. They are, as Spencer and Huxley agree,
"unknown quantities;"--relativities not entities. They are employable
enough where they suit,[153] provided Mr. Huxley's _caveat_ (p. 161)
is steadily kept in mind. "The errors of systematic materialism may
paralyze the energies and destroy the beauty of a life."
The reader may be pleased to put the subject of Materialism before
himself in a compendious shape as follows:--If the question asked be,
"_What_ is Matter?" the answer appears little likely to be of moment
to morals or Natural Theology, except so far as human ignorance is
made a plea for Scepticism. But, if it is inquired, "whether the
_Mechanical_ Laws of Matter are the laws of Universal Nature, including
human nature? the issue becomes most momentous. The reply made, answers
another question of the deepest interest:--"Are there any conditions
under which a Science of Natural Theology is possible?" If Mechanism be
the law of the Universe, Natural Theology is plainly impossible.
FOOTNOTES:
[88] Professor Max Müller writes as follows.--"If philosophy has to
explain what is, not what ought to be, there will be and can be no
rest till we admit, what cannot be denied, that there is in man a
(third) faculty, which I call simply the faculty of apprehending the
Infinite, not only in religion, but in all things; a power independent
of sense and reason, a power in a certain sense contradicted by sense
and reason, but yet a very real power, which has held its own from the
beginning of the world, neither sense nor reason being able to overcome
it, while it alone is able to overcome both reason and sense." _Max
Muller's Lectures on the Science of Religion_.--Lect. I. New Ed. p. 20.
The use of the word faculty is defended in a note.
I quote this passage with pleasure, because one main objection brought
against the possible existence of such a faculty is taken from the
_negative form_ of the word Infinite. The Professor maintains that, as
a question of Philology, Infinite signifies an affirmative idea. In his
Lectures on Language, second series, p. 576. he writes thus. "There is
no Infinite, we are told, for as there is a Finite, the Infinite has
its limit in the Finite, it cannot be Infinite. Now all this is mere
playing on words without thoughts. Why is infinite a negative idea?
Because _infinite_ is derived from _finite_ by means of the negative
particle _in_! But this is a mere accident, it is a fact in the history
of language, and no more. The same idea may be expressed by the
Perfect, the Eternal, the Self-existing, which are positive terms, or
contain at least no negative element. That negative words may express
positive ideas was known perfectly to Greek philosophers such as
Chrysippus, and they would as little have thought of calling _immortal_
a negative idea as they would have considered _blind_ positive. The
true idea of the Infinite is neither a negation nor a modification
of any other idea. The Finite, on the contrary, is in reality the
limitation or modification of the Infinite, nor is it possible, if we
reason in good earnest, to conceive of the Finite in any other sense
than as the shadow of the Infinite. Even Language will confess to this,
if we cross-examine her properly." He adds a happy quotation from
Roger Bacon: "'et dicitur infinitum non per privationem terminorum
quantitatis, sed per negationem corruptionis et non esse.' Oxford of
the nineteenth century need not be ashamed, as far as metaphysics are
concerned, of Oxford of the thirteenth." Coleridge's theory of the
Intuitive reason is well known to most readers.
[89] Metaph. XII. 7.
[90] Hamilton's Discussions, vol. 1. Art. 1.
[91] Very few people have ever sate down and sturdily endeavoured to
realize before their mind's eye, the distinct idea of any _other_
mind separate from themselves and independently subsistent. A short
trial will shew the difficulty, perhaps impossibility of the proposed
realization.
Any one who tries and fails, may be glad to learn that eminent
metaphysicians have retreated in despair from the task of justifying,
by _argument_, our belief in any minds other than our own. To common
sense, it may seem a natural inquiry whether this metaphysical failure
holds _morally, in foro conscientiæ_, as a valid excuse for most men's
neglect of other men's rights and interests? If _not_, it would appear
that morality is a more delicate test of certainty, than some sorts of
metaphysics.
[t] For the information of some readers, and the entertainment of
others, a few of the less popularized theories respecting Self-ness or
Personal Identity are thrown into Additional Note A.
[u] Nothing is more common in conversation than for a talker to
affirm that such and such a position must be _untrue_ "because it
is inconceivable." The assertor ought in return to be asked one or
two questions, _e.g._, "Do you mean inconceivable to yourself or to
the generality of Mankind?" If the latter, "Is the contradictory
also inconceivable?" Again, "Do you mean by the word inconceivable,
_unthinkable_ or _unimaginable_?" Few people clearly consider this last
distinction. Further, "If unthinkable, is it absolutely so, or only
very difficult to think?" And it seems likewise important to deliberate
whether any position ought to be pronounced absolutely unthinkable,
unless the human mind lies under a stern necessity of thinking and
accepting its contradictory.
[92] "Conceivable" and other like expressions are always relative to
conceiving minds; and what appears either conceivable or inconceivable
to one mind, may be the contrary to another. A painter not only
conceives,--but draws a Centaur, and places him feeding on a wide
plain or sloping hill side. But, can the Physiologist conceive such a
monstrosity? The solution is easy; the painter thinks of his figure,
the physiologist of the structure; and this example furnishes a good
caution as to the use of similar words.
From words we may pass to ideas. Take any conception involving the
condition of Time or Space,--(those two optical tubes of our mind's
perceiving eye),--and place it before the understanding; first as
a _Finite_ and next as an _Infinite_. The result is a conflict of
arguments, ending in a contradiction of all possibility that _either_
way the conception can be true. Any one moderately acquainted with
Kant's best-known work, is aware that, by thus treating the world's
existence, he raises overwhelming difficulties against its being
_either_ limited or unlimited in extent;--eternal _or_ having a
commencement in duration;--(p. 338. Ed. Rosenkranz) yet, the world
_does_ exist in fact. Kant goes on to subject other cosmological ideas
to the same enigmatical reasoning, with the same consequences.
Some readers of purely modern science, may illustrate this question
of the "_conceivable_" by what has been written on that extraordinary
riddle, the "_four_ dimensions of space." They will see opinions _pro_
and _con_ in an article by Professor Sylvester in Nature vol. 1. A
note (p. 238) contains one conclusion of the Professor's, interesting
as _his_ answer to a question asked by us a few paragraphs back.
He says, "If an Aristotle, or Descartes, or Kant assures me that
he recognises God in the conscience, I accuse my own blindness if
I fail to see with him.... I acknowledge two separate sources of
authority,--the collective sense of mankind, and the illumination of
privileged intellects." Plato then may have really _seen_ more than
Lucretius--Coleridge more than Comte or Littré.
[v] The advantages and defects of the optical structure of our human
eyes have been carefully estimated by Helmholtz. He has also discussed
the difficulties attending eyesight considered as a sensation and
perception. Extracts from his clear yet popular Lectures are given in
Additional Note B.
[93] _Proceedings of the Royal Institution._ V. 456.
[94] All theories of light require these immense numbers. Sir J.
Herschel says there is no "mode of conceiving the subject which does
not call upon us to admit the exertion of mechanical forces which may
well be termed infinite." The numeration in the text is a rough and
ready shape of statement at once intelligible. But it is interesting
to view the subject more exactly.--Light travels in one second
192,000 miles. Each mile contains 63,360 inches, and in each inch are
39,000 waves of red light, calculated at their _mean_ length. Now,
multiply these three sets of figures together, and we get a rate of
474,439,680,000,000 red waves per second. The mean length of a violet
wave is the 1/57500th part of an inch; and by a like multiplication we
find a product of 699,494,400,000,000 of violet light-strokes thrown
upon the retina in each second. The phrase "_millions of millions_"
is used in the text, because few people realize the idea of any
arithmetical whole beyond a million.
[95] "What we hear" writes Professor Max Müller "when listening to
a chorus or a symphony is a commotion of elastic air, of which the
wildest sea would give a very inadequate image. The lowest tone which
the ear perceives is due to about 30 vibrations in one second, the
highest to about 4,000. Consider then what happens in a _Presto_ when
thousands of voices and instruments are simultaneously producing waves
of air, each wave crossing the other, not only like the surface waves
of the water, but like spherical bodies, and, as it would seem, without
any perceptible disturbance; consider that each tone is accompanied
by secondary tones, that each instrument has its peculiar _timbre_,
due to secondary vibrations; and, lastly, let us remember that all
this cross-fire of waves, all this whirlpool of sound, is moderated by
laws which determine what we call harmony, and by certain traditions
or habits which determine what we call melody--both these elements
being absent in the songs of birds--that all this must be reflected
like a microscopic photograph on the two small organs of hearing,
and there excite not only perception, but perception followed by a
new feeling even more mysterious, which we call either pleasure or
pain; and it will be clear that we are surrounded on all sides by
miracles transcending all we are accustomed to call miraculous, and
yet disclosing to the genius of an Euler or a Newton laws which admit
of the most minute mathematical determination." _Science of Language_,
Second Series, p. 115.
[96] There is a much more scientific mode of trying this experiment. A
description of the instrument (Kaleidophone), and cuts of the figures
produced, may be seen in Tyndall on Sound, pp. 132. seq.
[97] There is reason for believing that a large proportion of animal
eyes see much as ours do when in a normal state. Colour blindness
is frequent in Man and occurs between red and green, yet a bull
distinguishes the two like a _healthy_, human being. He is allured by
the sight of a green field, and lashes himself into fury when a red rag
is waved before him.
The eyes of insects are very far removed in structure from ours. A
butterfly's compound eye contains 17,000 tubes, that of the Mordella
beetle 25,000. Their perception of colours appears vivid and distinct.
They resemble birds, reptiles, and other creatures in choosing for
their lairs and resting-places objects _coloured like themselves_.
It is not difficult to mount one of these compound eyes, so as to
look through it by aid of a lens placed in focus. Leeuwenhoeck looked
through the eye of a dragon fly (made up of 12,544 tubes), "and viewed
the steeple of a church which was 299 feet high, and 750 feet from the
place where he stood. He could plainly see the steeple, though not
apparently larger than the point of a fine needle. He also viewed a
house in the same manner, and could discern the front, distinguish the
doors and windows, and perceive whether they were open or shut." See
_Insect Miscellanies_, p. 129.
[98] Two points connected with colour admit of being easily
experimented on, and deserve from their interest to be made the
subjects of repeated observations.
The first has relation to the question of _primary_ colours;--are they
alike in man and in _all_ the lower animals?--In birds and reptiles
there are anatomical reasons for believing the primaries to be red,
yellow, and blue. But are they the same in our race?--may they not
more probably be red, green, and violet? In this case yellow is the
transition from red to green, blue from green to violet. As colour
blindness consists in an insensibility to red, and as the outer circle
of the field of vision is feeble in its reds, the number of experiments
which might be suggested is evidently considerable.
Let a person place two threads respectively red and green near the
bridge of the nose, so as to be seen by the inner angle of the pupil
only. If dexterously moved, both seem green;--if not, both will in
time become black. Where the want of sensitive appreciation of red is
great, the same result follows in every part of the field of sight.
Thus reverend gentlemen in former times have been induced to wear
scarlet hose under the impression that they had put on black silk;
and in these railroad days many persons find themselves unable to
distinguish between the safety and the danger signal lights. It seems
strange indeed that any scientific advisers of railway Boards should
have recommended for use the two colours, above all others, most likely
to get confounded.
The theory which supposes red, green, and violet to be Man's three
primary colours is the hypothesis of our great countryman Dr. Thomas
Young, and deserves much more consideration than was for a long time
awarded it. If we may judge of his theory by his appreciation of
pictures it must have been excellent;--the present writer saw with
admiration in 1845 the grand series of Reynolds' portraits which Dr.
Young had left behind him.
The second topic of interest is the inquiry into the number and tone
of subjective colours. A perfect theory of colour ought, of course, to
embrace all possible human sensations of the kind. Now many persons
are able to see in dreams a rich amber light far softer and more pure
than any tint ever beheld by the Eye. It generally appears to irradiate
Space, and silvery figures, most often the celestial orbs, float within
it. A still more beautiful production of reflex energy exerted after
tranquil rest is the blending of delicate green with a hyacinthine hue
quite strange to this world, and indescribably lovely in its tender
shadings off. By means of this subjective activity the experiments of
Goethe and J. Müller may be varied almost _ad libitum_. The easiest
plan is on first waking to keep the eyelids steadily closed, and
watch for the unbidden rise of tints. Persons of strong pictorial and
poetic powers can, after some practice, control their appearance and
succession; and much diversity may be produced by slightly separating
the fringe of eyelashes and looking between the loosely pressed
fingers. The remarkable point in these and similar experiments seems to
be that we are thus enabled to gaze upon beauties more marvellous than
the outward eye ever beheld--yet we _see_ them.
Another and a painful source of knowledge on this subject consists
in registering the visual impressions of persons bodily or mentally
diseased. The difference between these and the normal impressions of
healthy people would seem to arise from reflex action, the disordered
sensory or mind reacting upon the optic apparatus; or, as it may
be said, the centre of our being is through these aberrations made
manifest in its control of the circumference.
Now, it will be obvious to any reflective person how very important
all information we can acquire respecting this central empire over the
impressions of our sense-nerves may become when we try to estimate the
conditions of human knowledge. If it be true that the Mind imposes
laws of activity on the nervous system even when receiving impressions
from it, then the necessity we are under of _thinking_ in accordance
with certain inly imposed laws receives a most striking illustration.
And the inference from it carries an _a fortiori_ probability
since our thoughts lie nearer to our mental centre than any of our
sense-impressions.
[99] Nerves of common feeling are acutely sensitive when divided, and
the patient animal under a Majendie or a dentist utters a sharp shriek.
The case is different with motor nerves, with those of the sympathetic
system, and with (what is more to our purpose) nerves of sensation. It
seems clear that mechanical injuries, or even touches, excite them in
the direction of their own special functions. Auditory nerves feel a
shock as a sound,--optic nerves receive it as a sudden and brilliant
light. We are doubly assured from these effects of the true functions
belonging to the several sets of nerves. Disease and injury are great
discoverers of what ought to be healthy susceptibilities. In such
cases, however, they prove also something more agreeable to think upon.
They prove that suffering is confined within definite limits, and that
_economy_ of pain forms part of the universal design, for the sensitive
animal as well as the sensitive man. If all our nerves shrank equally
with equal tenderness, life would be a history of protracted agony. Yet
one might have expected, _primâ facie_, that a fibre which telegraphs
shapes and colours with their blendings, would eloquently tell the
story of its own occasional anguish. And our whole nervous framework
might have been conceived as an instrument of torture. It has not been
so constituted.
_Per contra_, the nerves of common feeling assert their own
vocation.--"A brazen canstick turned" sets the teeth on edge, and
troubles the skin with horripilation. Believers in ghosts--and also
disbelievers--are aware that some sights
"Make knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end."
For extended information on this subject compare Additional Note C.
[100] Aristotle so described it before Mr. Bain and other modern
writers, "[Greek: to gar horaton esti chrôma]," De Anima II. 7. 1.
As Kampe carefully observes, "so ist die Farbe (nicht die gefärbten
Körper) das Eigenthümliche des Gesichtssinns." See also his note,
Erkenntnisstheorie des Aristoteles, p. 88.
[w] Compare Helmholtz on "The Sensation of Sight," _Lectures_, pp. 256,
7, and 259.
"We have already seen enough to answer the question whether it is
possible to maintain the natural and innate conviction that the quality
of our sensations, and especially our sensations of sight, give us a
true impression of corresponding qualities in the outer world. It is
clear that they do not. The question was really decided by Johannes
Müller's deduction from well ascertained facts of the law of specific
nervous energy. Whether the rays of the sun appear to us as colour,
or as warmth, does not at all depend upon their own properties, but
simply upon whether they excite the fibres of the optic nerve, or
those of the skin. Pressure upon the eyeball, a feeble current of
electricity passed through it, a narcotic drug carried to the retina
by the blood, are capable of exciting the sensation of light just as
well as the sunbeams. The most complete difference offered by our
several sensations, that namely between those of sight, of hearing,
of taste, of smell, and of touch--this deepest of all distinctions,
so deep that it is impossible to draw any comparison of likeness, or
unlikeness, between the sensations of colour and of musical tones--does
not, as we now see, at all depend upon the nature of the external
object, but solely upon the central connections of the nerves which
are affected.... But not only uneducated persons, who are accustomed
to trust blindly to their senses, even the educated, who know that
their senses may be deceived, are inclined to demur to so complete a
want of any closer correspondence in kind between actual objects and
the sensations they produce than the law I have just expounded. For
instance, natural philosophers long hesitated to admit the identity
of the rays of light and of heat, and exhausted all possible means of
escaping a conclusion which seemed to contradict the evidence of their
senses.
"Another example is that of Goethe, as I have endeavoured to show
elsewhere. He was led to contradict Newton's theory of colours,
because he could not persuade himself that white, which appears to
our sensation as the purest manifestation of the brightest light,
could be composed of darker colours. It was Newton's discovery of the
composition of light that was the first germ of the modern doctrine
of the true functions of the senses; and in the writings of his
contemporary, Locke, were correctly laid down the most important
principles on which the right interpretation of sensible qualities
depends. But, however clearly we may feel that here lies the difficulty
for a large number of people, I have never found the opposite
conviction of certainty derived from the senses so distinctly expressed
that it is possible to lay hold of the point of error: and the reason
seems to me to lie in the fact that beneath the popular notions on the
subject lie other and more fundamentally erroneous conceptions."
[101] Is there, asks Idealistic Scepticism, any outside world at all?
We have all of us always believed in the veritable existence of this
outside world from our childhood. So have we believed always in our own
real and continued personal existence. The unyielding objectivities
concerning which our senses inform us--the identical Self which
receives their information--are entities no man ordinarily thinks of
calling in question.
Let any one sit down and try to imagine himself a human animal let
loose upon life without a firm belief in either of these two primary
convictions. What could life be to him? to his descendants? to the
world of men if similarly unbelieving? Yet what are the conditions
or evidences of veracity upon which his and his fellows' present
convictions must necessarily repose? Can he and others help believing
them true? and why?--This "why" is a safe answer to the most plausible
as well as the most refined objection against such primary beliefs as
those premised by Natural Theology.
[102] Cheselden's case is reported in the Philosophical Transactions
for 1728, and also in his Anatomy. Respecting the point above quoted he
is confirmed by Mr. Nunneley, "_On the Organs of Vision_," 1858.
[103] See Dr. Carpenter's Principles of Human Physiology. Ed. 7. p.
713. § 635.
[x] The following quaint apology for our senses at the expense of our
understanding may be new to the majority of my readers:--
"We have seen two notorious instances of _sensitive deception_, which
justifie the charge of _Petron. Arbiter_.
Fallunt nos oculi, vagique sensus
Oppressâ ratione mentiuntur.
And yet to speak properly, and to do our _senses_ right, simply they
are not deceived, but only administer an occasion to our forward
_understandings_ to deceive themselves: and so though they are some
way accessory to our delusion; yet the more principal faculties are
the _Capital offenders_. Thus if the _Senses_ represent the _Earth_ as
_fixt_ and _immoveable_; they give us the truth of their _Sentiments_:
To _sense_ it is _so_, and it would be deceit to present it otherwise.
For (as we have shewn) though it do _move_ in itself; it _rests_ to us,
who are carry'd with it.... But if hence our Understandings falsely
deduct, that there is the same quality in the _external impressor_;
'tis, it is _criminal_, our _sense_ is _innocent_. When the _Ear_
tingles, we really hear a _sound_: If we judge it without us, it's
the fallacy of our _Judgments_. The _apparitions_ of our frighted
_Phancies_ are real _sensibles_: But if we translate them without the
compass of our Brains, and apprehend them as external objects; it's
the unwary rashness of our _Understanding_ deludes us. And if our
disaffected Palates resent nought but bitterness from our choicest
viands, we truly tast the unpleasing quality, though falsely conceive
it in that, which is no more then the occasion of its production. If
any find fault with the novelty of the notion; the learned St. _Austin_
stands ready to confute the charge: and they who revere _Antiquity_,
will derive satisfaction from so venerable a suffrage. He tells us,
_Si quis remum frangi in aquâ opinatur, et, cum_ _aufertur, integrari;
non malum habet internuncium, sed malus est Judex_. And onward to this
purpose, The sense could not otherwise perceive it in the _water_,
neither ought it: For since the _Water_ is one thing, and the _Air_
another; 'tis requisite and necessary, that the _sense_ should be as
different as the _medium_: Wherefore the Eye sees aright; if there be
a mistake, 'tis the Judgement's the Deceiver. Elsewhere he saith, that
our Eyes misinform us not, but faithfully transmit their resentment to
the mind. And against the _Scepticks_, That it's a piece of injustice
to complain of our _senses_, and to exact from them an account, which
is beyond the sphear of their notice: and resolutely determines,
_Quicquid possunt videre oculi, verum vident_. So that what we have
said of the _senses deceptions_, is rigidly to be charg'd only on our
careless Understandings, misleading us through the ill management of
sensible informations." Glanvill, _Vanity of Dogmatizing_. Chap. x.
First Ed. p. 91, seq.
The reader may like to consider how far Glanvill's apology for the
senses is removed from the following propositions laid down by a recent
writer just quoted who thus defends while he limits the veracity of
sense-impressions:--
"What we directly apprehend," writes Professor Helmholtz, "is not
the immediate action of the external exciting cause upon the ends
of our nerves, but only the changed condition of the nervous fibres
which we call the state of _excitation_ or functional activity." And
further on:--"The simple rule for all illusions of sight is this: _we
always believe that we see such objects as would, under conditions
of normal vision, produce the retinal image of which we are actually
conscious_. If these images are such as could not be produced by any
normal kind of observation, we judge of them according to their nearest
resemblance; and in forming this judgment, we more easily neglect the
parts of sensation which are imperfectly than those which are perfectly
apprehended. When more than one interpretation is possible, we usually
waver involuntarily between them; but it is possible to end this
uncertainty by bringing the idea of any of the possible interpretations
we choose as vividly as possible before the mind by a conscious effort
of the will." Helmholtz on _The Recent Progress of the Theory of
Vision_. pp. 230, 31 and p. 307.
[104] Two acute reasoners, who will be alternately acquitted of
madness by contending schools of thought, have arrived at conclusions
very favourable to the sanity of idealizing men. In his first lecture
at the Royal Institution, Professor Masson spoke in the following
terms of _Hume_ and _Fichte_. "There is the system of Nihilism, or,
as it may be better called, Non-Substantialism. According to this
system, the Phænomenal Cosmos, whether regarded as consisting of
two parallel successions of phænomena (Mind _and_ Matter), or of
only one (Mind _or_ Matter), resolves itself, on analysis, into an
absolute Nothingness,--mere appearances with no credible substratum of
Reality; a play of phantasms in a void. If there have been no positive
or dogmatic Nihilists, yet both Hume for one purpose, and Fichte
for another, have propounded Nihilism as the ultimate issue of all
reasoning that does not start with some _à priori_ postulate."--Recent
British Philosophy, p. 66. The reader will observe that to raise the
question fully, we have spoken of the special form of Idealism to
which Mr. Mill gives the first place in his description, (Examination
of Hamilton's Philosophy, p. 8.) "According to one of the forms, the
sensations which, in common parlance, we are said to receive from
objects, are not only all that we can possibly know of the objects, but
are all that we have any ground for believing to exist.----Those who
hold this opinion are said to doubt or deny the existence of matter.
They are sometimes called by the name Idealists, sometimes by that of
Sceptics, according to the other opinions which they hold. They include
the followers of Berkeley and those of Hume. Among recent thinkers,
the acute and accomplished Professor Ferrier, though by a circuitous
path, and expressing himself in a very different phraseology, seems to
have arrived at essentially the same point of view. These philosophers
maintain the Relativity of our knowledge in the most extreme form in
which the doctrine can be understood, since they contend, not merely
that all we can possibly know of anything is the manner in which it
affects the human faculties, but that there is nothing else to be
known; that affections of human or of some other minds are all that we
can know to exist."
Mr. Mill's own position will be found in his 11th Chapter. After
defining Matter to be a "Permanent Possibility of Sensation," (p.
227) and explaining his definition, he writes in a note (p. 232),
the following decisive sentences: "My able American critic, Dr. H.
B. Smith, contends through several pages that these facts afford no
proofs that objects _are_ external to us. I never pretended that they
do. I am accounting for our conceiving, or representing to ourselves,
the Permanent Possibilities as real objects external to us. I do not
believe that the real externality to us of anything, except other
minds, is capable of proof."
Mr. O'Hanlon's pamphlet entitled "A Criticism of John Stuart Mill's
Pure Idealism; and an attempt to shew that, if logically carried out,
it is Pure Nihilism," seems less known than it deserves to be. Mr.
Mill noticed and answered it in his 3rd Edition--chiefly among the
criticisms commencing p. 244.----Mr. O'Hanlon's early decease has
given a painful interest to his promising labours. Some paragraphs from
his now scarce pamphlet are placed at the end of Additional Note D, on
"Pure Idealism."
[105] _On Hamilton._ p. 6. Mill is thus echoed from across the
broad Atlantic;--"The profoundest question of philosophy turns
on the relation of Thought to Being, Mind to Matter, Subject to
Object, or (in empiricistic phrase) Organism to Environment. Is
the Organism purely the product of the Environment? Then we have
Empiricism, Sensationalism, Materialism, whose motto is that of
Destutt-Tracy,--"_Penser c'est sentir_." Is the Environment the product
of the Organism? Then we have Transcendentalism, Egoism, Idealism,
whose motto is that of Berkeley,--"The _esse_ of objects is _percipi_."
F. E. Abbot, in _The Index_ (American), for July 27, 1872.
[106] Lord Macaulay has some pertinent and characteristic remarks
concerning this topic in his literary estimate of Dr. Johnson. "How
it chanced that a man who reasoned on his premises so ably, should
assume his premises so foolishly, is one of the great mysteries of
human nature. The same inconsistency may be observed in the schoolmen
of the middle ages. Those writers show so much acuteness and force
of mind in arguing on their wretched data, that a modern reader is
perpetually at a loss to comprehend how such minds came by such data.
Not a flaw in the superstructure of the theory which they are rearing
escapes their vigilance. Yet they are blind to the obvious unsoundness
of the foundation. It is the same with some eminent lawyers. Their
legal arguments are intellectual prodigies, abounding with the happiest
analogies and the most refined distinctions. The principles of their
arbitrary science being once admitted, the statute-book and the reports
being once assumed as the foundations of reasoning, these men must
be allowed to be perfect masters of logic. But if a question arises
as to the postulates on which their whole system rests, if they are
called upon to vindicate the fundamental maxims of that system which
they have passed their lives in studying, these very men often talk
the language of savages or of children." (_Essays_, Ed. 1852. p. 175.)
As to the schoolmen, any one who wishes to form a fair idea of their
acuteness with little trouble to himself, may consult the "Synopsis
Distinctionum" of H. L. Castanæus, a book found in most learned
libraries.
[y] See Additional Note E.--The great interest of this subject for
our purpose lies in the circumstance that the relation of Theory to
Fact is in effect a question most closely akin to the one already
mooted concerning the relation of our Sensations to our Perceptions
(compare Additional Note B). These two questions are indeed so very
similar as to be in the main identical. What we want to learn regarding
both relations, is, _first_, the _extent_ of the relativity to our
human nature; in other words how _much we_ have _mentally put_ into
our Theories and Sensations _before_ we treat them as Facts and
Perceptions. _Secondly_, what reason we have for believing _any_ of
our knowledge comprehended under either or both of these relativities
(Perception and Fact) to be true _beyond_ our human sphere; and, above
all, whether we are able to assert, on good grounds, that such and such
parts of either kind of our knowledge are absolutely and immutably
true?--
If, for example, we ask--Is it thus true that there are real objects
external to ourselves? "I do not believe," Mr. Mill has told us, "that
the real externality to us of anything, except other minds, is capable
of proof." And a few lines further, "The view I take of externality,
in the sense in which I acknowledge it as real, could not be more
accurately expressed than in Professor Fraser's words." These are "For
ourselves we can conceive only--(1) An externality to our present
and transient experience in _our own_ possible experience past and
future, and (2) An externality to our own conscious experience, in the
contemporaneous, as well as in the past or future experience of _other
minds_." (_On Hamilton._ p. 232, note.) This explanation, Mill had
just before observed, is an externality in the only sense we need care
about; and it means in plain words, that we possess no absolutely true
but only some utilitarian knowledge of the real existence of an outside
world. We must, however, and do care infinitely more for another kind
of answer to quite another kind of question. Is the antithesis between
Right and Wrong,--the Moral Imperative "Do this and live, transgress
and die,"--absolutely and immutably true? If not, who would calculate
profit and loss as they are calculated in the Gospel; who would or
could believe in a Righteous that is to say, a Real and True God?
Many minds, appalled by the vastness of these issues, and finding no
satisfactory answer to questions of such infinite importance, have
fallen back on the position of Dr. Newman in his _Grammar of Assent_.
But the unsatisfactory characteristic attaching to this position,
is that there seems to be no _limit_ to such Assents, because there
appears no Reasonable canon or maxim to explain, defend, and regulate
them. To the far larger number of minds the problem states itself
as a dilemma. There are exactly two alternatives open to Man. His
choice lies between two contrasted positions--the most antagonistic
conceivable, yet both resulting from one common supposed fact.
Ignorance and impotence are the truest characters inscribed upon
our Reason. Man must decide either for an unlimited Doubt such as
that which Hume delineates, wide as the universal whole of our human
Existence; or else yield the kind of Assent to which Dr. Newman invites
as being the sole secure refuge for any soul driven by despair into a
recoil from utter absence of belief and hope--the want of everything
to trust and love. Now, let it be observed that an assent transcending
reasonable proof is, in effect, a confession that Reason falls short
of establishing those transcendental truths to which the mind has
thus assented. And contrariwise, limitless Doubt making all else
uncertain, affirms with unmistakeable decisiveness the impotence of
human Reason.--"The observation of human blindness and weakness," says
Hume, "is the result of all philosophy, and meets us at every turn,
in spite of our endeavours to elude or avoid it." Hence, we see that
Hume's conclusion is identical with that underlying a position directly
antagonistic to his own, and in this respect _les extrêmes se touchent_.
It follows, then, with equal clearness, that any Dilemma which
restricts human choice to the two alternatives above stated, rests
upon a denial that Man's Reason can guide Mankind to truth--(and by
consequence that he can ever feel after and find his God);--whilst,
conversely, this same denial, if posited as a basis of speculation,
permits no human choice beyond the two horns of a Dilemma thus made
necessarily imperative upon us all.
Neither alternative, however, can be accepted by the Natural
Theologian, nor can he possibly receive any such Dilemma as founded in
Truth or Reason. On the one hand the Superhuman, and Supernatural lie
outside his science which has for its sphere Nature, including Man's
Nature; and which steadily endeavours to attain the true interpretation
and evidence yielded by both Natures, to a belief extending beyond
their present territory and fluent conditions. On the other hand,
his science becomes impossible if unlimited Doubt is the sole dreary
prospect open to the philosophic inquirer. And with his science all
other sciences must perish. Doubt saps the foundations of them all;
common-sense facts, scientific theories, and practical every-day
beliefs, are all impartially shewn to be baseless. So far as our
realities are concerned
"We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."
Science is therefore an alien from Man's world; the soul an outcast
amid her own:--
"As in strange lands a traveller walking slow,
In doubt and great perplexity,
A little before moon-rise hears the low
Moan of an unknown sea;
"And knows not if it be thunder or a sound
Of stones thrown down, or one deep cry
Of great wild beasts; then thinketh, 'I have found
A new land, but I die.'"
"Not for this," says the same reflective poet--
"Not for this
Was common clay ta'en from the common earth,
Moulded by God, and tempered with the tears
Of angels to the perfect shape of man."
Let it be observed in conclusion, that the mode in which common-sense
people are accustomed to treat the primary tenets of most sciences, and
the validity of their own ordinary beliefs, may be placed in curious
contrast with their attitude towards the proofs of Natural Theology.
In the former case, acceptance is easy and wholesale; in the latter,
every mind seems to bristle with objections. Now there are evidently
thousands who _must_ surrender their judgments to the demands of a
present and pressing utility, and must take upon trust a multitude
of maxims which they can never hope to investigate. The difficulties
necessarily involved in each and all of these easy acceptations thus
remain unsuspected, and cannot therefore be placed side by side with
the difficulties of Theism.
But, next arises a serious question. How far can a similar facility of
wholesale acceptance and a similar absence of comparison with deeper
truths, be considered a philosophic or even a fair procedure in the
case of men and women who _think_ themselves into Atheism?
[z] Neither can it be too often repeated that practical truth involves
an enormous amount of speculative difficulty, and is received
as the daily basis of human action in the face of doubts, which
speculatively considered are absolutely insoluble. There is (as will
appear in Chapter IV.) reason to extend this remark beyond what is
commonly called practical truth far into the realm of speculative
knowledge, or to speak more exactly, of all knowledge whatsoever.
Suppose, for instance, the continuity of our inward power of receiving
sense-impressions, of knowing, and reasoning; (our personal Identity)
is a groundless belief;--Suppose too that our sense-impressions
are reflections from self-created shadows and not from objective
realities;--_where_ can any knowledge be truly subsistent save in
that place of exile now generally termed "the Unknowable"? Compare
Additional Notes A and B appended to this present Chapter.
[107] La Philosophie en France. IX. p. 66.
[108] First Principles, p. 108.
[109] Lay Sermon delivered on Sunday, Jan. 7, 1866; in the collected
vol. pp. 19, 20.
[110] Essays I. p. 190.
[111] Ibid. p. 211.
[aa] Mr. Herbert Spencer has been freely criticized by Americans, in
part as not being sufficiently thorough--in part as being untrue to his
own position. A few quotations will be found in Additional Note F, on
"The Unknowable."
[ab] The paragraph, taken in its entireness, is pervaded with the vivid
sense of a Moral Law which can neither change nor perish--a Law at once
human and Divine. This strong protest is both in thought and expression
a complete contrast to the ordinary tone of Mr. Mill's disquisitions,
attempered as they generally are between benevolence and expediency.
Instead of pondering the Utilities of a race which, comparatively
speaking, began to exist yesterday, it appeals with decisive sternness,
once and for ever, to the Immutable and the Absolute. It reminds one of
a torch-bearing Prometheus pitted against the selfish despot of a new
and morally enfeebled Olympus. See Additional Note G.
[112] This sentence contains two propositions; the question of
speculative perplexity has been treated in this Chapter--that of
reasonable necessity is reserved for our next.
[113] On Hamilton, p. 242.
[114] Mill on Hamilton, p. 232, note.
[115] Ibid. p. 233, note.
[116] Ibid. p. 227.
[117] British Association Report, 1870. lxxvii. lxxxiv.
[118] The remark above made respecting a "_living laboratory_" will
be readily understood by every one who remembers the great mistakes
committed, some years ago, in treating the stomach as a mere chemical
workshop;--forgetful of its all-important endowment,--vitality. That
oversight has been alluded to here because it may yield a lesson to
Psychologists; for may not a far higher kind of endowment in like
manner be forgotten when men materialize the principles one and all on
which is conditioned the transforming power of mental assimilation?
[119] Lay Sermons, p. 160.
[120] And of more than one as we shall see hereafter. Its point will be
best understood upon a perusal of Additional Notes F and I.
[121] All these quotations will be found between pp. 332 and 360 of the
Treatise. Ed. 1817.
[122] Compare Mr. Green's Introduction to Hume's _Treatise on Human
Nature_, Vol. I., pp. 263, seq., where he discusses the bearing of this
subject upon Hume's doctrine of Cause and Effect.
[123] He sums up in the words of Goethe, thus given in the translation
of his lectures from which we have quoted--
"Woe! woe!
Thou hast destroyed
The beautiful world
With powerful fist;
In ruin 'tis hurled,
By the blow of a demigod shattered.
The scattered
Fragments into the void we carry,
Deploring
The beauty perished beyond restoring."
[124] "All the different sorts of rays which I have mentioned produce
one effect in common. They raise the temperature of the objects on
which they fall, and accordingly are all felt by our skin as rays of
heat." (p. 237.)
[125] The former of these two latter quotations has been cited already
in a foot-note on p. 164 _ante_. It is repeated here for the sake of
bringing together Masson's classification of Fichte, first as "_Pure_
Idealist," and secondly as "Nihilist." Mr. O'Hanlon's criticism of Mill
reaches exactly the same goal as regards that subtle controversialist.
His position is that Mill's Pure Idealism when analysed, turns out to
be Pure Nihilism.
[126] Compare Note B preceding.
[127] In the pamphlet referred to p. 165 _ante_, note. The quotations
in our text commence on its 5th page. The subject will be most easily
comprehended after a reperusal of the argument of Chap. III. pp.
164-172 inclusive.
[128] On p. 14 the ingenious writer adds a further argument based on
Mill's admissions. "If the fire apart from my consciousness be some
positive condition or conditions of warmth and light, if the corn be
some positive condition or conditions of food, my thesis is made out,
and your Pure Idealism falls to the ground. If, on the other hand, 'the
fire' be nothing positive apart from my consciousness, then, since it
is nothing at all when so apart, you can have no right to speak of
'modifications' taking place in it, whether we are asleep or awake,
present or absent."
[129] It is worth observing how truly our Bishop anticipated the
vulgar objection against his theory. Towards the end of his Dialogues
Hylas (who clings to the olden elemental nature) speaks thus: "To say,
There is no Matter in the World, is still shocking to me. Whereas
to say--There is no Matter, if by that Term be meant an unthinking
Substance existing without the Mind; but if by Matter is meant some
sensible Thing, whose Existence consists in being perceived, then there
is Matter:--this Distinction gives it quite another Turn; and Men will
come into your Notions with small Difficulty, when they are proposed in
that manner." Lord Byron condescended to repeat the "coxcombs' grin"--
"When Bishop Berkeley said there was no matter,
And prov'd it--'twas no matter what he said."
[130] Read for example the following eloquent passages from Berkeley's
"Three Dialogues." Philonous, who represents Berkeley himself, says:
"To me it is evident, for the Reasons you allow of, that sensible
Things cannot exist otherwise than in a Mind or Spirit. Whence I
conclude, not that they have no real Existence, but that seeing they
depend not on my Thought, and have an Existence distinct from being
perceived by me, _there must be some other Mind wherein they exist_. As
sure, therefore, as the sensible World really exists, so sure is there
an infinite omnipresent Spirit who contains and supports it.
"Hylas. What! This is no more than I and all Christians hold; nay,
and all others too who believe there is a God, and that he knows and
comprehends all Things.
"Phil. Ay, but here lies the Difference. Men commonly believe that all
Things are known or perceived by God, because they believed the Being
of a God, whereas I, on the other side, immediately and necessarily
conclude the Being of a God, because all sensible Things must be
perceived by Him.
"Hylas. But so long as we all believe the same thing, what matter is it
how we come by that Belief?
"Phil. But neither do we agree in the same Opinion. For Philosophers,
tho' they acknowledge all corporeal Beings to be perceived by God, yet
they attribute to them an absolute Subsistence distinct from their
being perceived by any Mind whatever, which I do not. Besides, is there
no Difference between saying, _There is a God, therefore he perceives
all Things_: and saying, _Sensible Things do really exist: and if they
really exist, they are necessarily perceived by an infinite Mind:
therefore there is an infinite Mind, or God?_ This furnishes you with a
direct and immediate Demonstration, from a most evident Principle, of
the _Being of a God_....
Hylas. It cannot be denied, there is something highly serviceable to
Religion in what you advance. But do you not think it looks very like
a Notion entertained by some eminent Moderns, of _seeing all things in
God_?
Phil. I would gladly know that Opinion; pray explain it to me.
Hylas. They conceive that the Soul, being immaterial, is incapable
of being united with material Things, so as to perceive them in
themselves, but that she perceives them by her Union with the Substance
of God, which being spiritual, is therefore purely intelligible, or
capable of being the immediate Object of a Spirit's Thought. Besides,
the Divine Essence contains in it Perfections correspondent to each
created Being; and which are, for that Reason, proper to exhibit or
represent them to the Mind.
Phil. I do not understand how our Ideas, which are Things altogether
passive and inert, can be the Essence, or any Part (or like any Part)
of the Essence or Substance of God, who is an impassive, indivisible,
purely active Being. Many more Difficulties and Objections there are,
which occur at first View against this Hypothesis, but I shall only
add, that it is liable to all the Absurdities of the common Hypotheses
in making a created World exist otherwise than in the Mind of a Spirit.
Beside all which it has this peculiar to itself; that it makes that
material World serve to no Purpose. And if it pass for a good Argument
against other Hypotheses in the Sciences, that they suppose Nature or
the Divine Wisdom to make something in vain, or do that by tedious
round-about Methods, which might have been performed in a much more
easy and compendious way, what shall we think of that Hypothesis which
supposes the whole World made in vain?
Hylas. But what say you, are not you too of Opinion that we see all
Things in God? If I mistake not, what you advance comes near it.
Phil. I entirely agree with what the Holy Scripture saith, _That in God
we live, and move, and have our Being_. But that we see Things in his
Essence after the manner above set forth, I am far from believing. Take
here in brief my Meaning. It is evident that the Things I perceive are
my own Ideas, and that no Idea can exist, unless it be in a Mind. Nor
is it less plain that these Ideas or Things by me perceived, either
themselves or their Archetypes exist independently of my Mind, since
I know myself not to be their Author, it being out of my Power to
determine at Pleasure what particular Ideas I shall be affected with
upon opening my Eyes or Ears. They must therefore exist in some other
Mind, whose Will it is they should be exhibited to me. The Things, I
say, immediately perceived, are Ideas or Sensations, call them which
you will. But how can any Idea or Sensation exist in, or be produced
by, anything but a Mind or Spirit? This, indeed, is inconceivable: and
to assert that which is inconceivable, is to talk Nonsense: Is it not?.
Hylas. Without doubt.
Phil. But on the other hand, it is very conceivable that they should
exist in, and be produced by, a Spirit; since this is no more than I
daily experience in myself, inasmuch as I perceive numberless Ideas;
and by an Act of my Will can form a great Variety of them, and raise
them up in my Imagination: Tho' it must be confessed, these Creatures
of the Fancy are not altogether so distinct, so strong, vivid, and
permanent, as those perceived by my Senses, which latter are called
_Real Things_. From all which I conclude, _there is a Mind which
affects me every Moment with all the sensible Impressions I perceive_.
And from the Variety, Order, and Manner of these, I conclude the Author
of them to be _wise, powerful, and good, beyond comprehension_. Mark it
well, I do not say, I see Things by perceiving that which represents
them in the intelligible Substance of God. This I do not understand;
but I say, The Things by me perceived are known by the Understanding,
and produced by the Will, of an infinite Spirit. And is not all this
most plain and evident? Is there any more in it, than what a little
Observation of our own Minds, and that which passes in them not only
enables us to conceive, but also obliges us to acknowledge?"
Numberless charming quotations might be added from the "Principles" as
well as the Dialogues, but those already given may suffice, and they
have been chosen now because not very commonly quoted.
[131] Hegel Encyklopädie T. i. S. 95. (Werke VI. 189.) The quotation
above is from Mr. Wallace's translation p. 153. Compare his Index.
[132] In the just published Edition of Hume's Treatise on Human Nature,
I. p. 140. We must all regret the loss of Dean Mansel's ultimate
thoughts on "The real error of Berkeley's Idealism." Letters &c. p.
391. But more than a dozen years earlier, he wrote, (_Prolegomena
Logica_, Chap. V.) "The fault of Berkeley did not consist in doubting
the existence of matter, but in asserting its non-existence." How far
Mansel himself went in the direction of this same doubt may be judged
from the following passage, which occurs in the Prolegomena one page
before. "Beyond the range of conscious beings, we can have only a
negative idea of substance. The name is applied in relation to certain
collections of sensible phenomena, natural or artificial, connected
with each other in various ways; by locomotion, by vegetation, by
contributing to a common end, by certain positions in space. But here
we have no positive notion of substance distinct from phenomena. I do
not attribute to the billiard ball a consciousness of its own figure,
colour, and motion; but, in denying consciousness, I deny the only
form in which unity and substance have been presented to me. I have
therefore no data for thinking one way or the other on the question.
Some kind of unity between the several phenomena may exist, or it may
not; but if it does exist, it exists in a manner of which I can form no
conception; and if it does not exist, my faculties do not enable me to
detect its absence." In other words (as Mr. O'Hanlon might have phrased
it) "My friend Smith is I know a person,--therefore a substance. But
Smith's hat and coat, being unconscious, lack the only forms in which
unity and substance have been presented to me. Smith's coat is blue,
its fabric woollen; his hat black, and of silken texture;--there
may or may not be unities in which these phenomena of colour and
structural appearance cohere; my faculties do not, however, enable me
to decide whether hat and coat are or are not _positively_ substantial
unifications.
It would appear from all this, that hats and coats and other familiar
so-called substances, are as little _essentially_ known to us as
that vast territory of supernatural Being which has been named the
"Unknowable."
[133] From Mr. Wallace's translation of Hegel's Logik, pp. 65, 8, and
9. As the translator preserves the numbering of the Sections, reference
is easy to the original German. Hegel adds a remark well worthy of
attention:--"The scepticism of Hume, by whom this observation was
chiefly made, should be clearly marked off from Greek scepticism. Hume
founds his remarks on the truth of the empirical element, on feeling
and sensation, and proceeds to attack universal truths and laws,
because they do not derive their authority from sense-perception. So
far was ancient scepticism from making feeling and sensation a canon
of truth, that it turned against the deliverances of sense first of
all."--Ibid. p. 69.
[134] Pp. 234-341. The preface to this volume is dated February 1874.
[135] Martineau's conception discussed by Spencer is hampered by a
theory of Matter difficult _per se_.
[136] See back pp. 76-8 and 107 (end of note) and connect with these
passages the oft-repeated Wordsworthian maxim:--
"We murder to dissect."
[137] See our Chapter VI. _On Causation_.
[138] The paragraph cited in the text of Chapter III. concludes with
these words:--"I will call no being good, who is not what I mean when
I apply that epithet to my fellow-creatures; and if such a being can
sentence me to hell for not so calling him, to hell I will go."
Now, no man can sit down and _calculate_ himself into Mr. Mill's
conviction thus enounced; neither could any cool process of argument
have ever kindled such a flame. A sternness of purpose like his must be
either the skeleton-armour covering the thoughtless boy in Tennyson's
Gareth and Lynette, or it is the reflection of a light intuitively
flashed through the soul--the echo of a chord struck upon the writer's
very heart-strings. Such and so deep, beyond doubt, was the ingenuous
feeling of Mr. Mill.
[139] La Science au point de Vue Philosophique, pp. 539-542.
[140] Psychological Inquiries, second part, pp. 195-197.
[141] Address (Presidential) to British Association at Liverpool, 1870,
p. 15.
[142] Loc. cit. pp. 199-200.
[143] Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Science, January, 1873, p. 74.
[144] Loc. cit. p. 64.
[145] Loc. cit. pp. 69-70.
[146] Loc. cit. pp. 16-17.
[147] This quotation is from his _Matter and Force_, Chapter XIX.
Büchner is never tired of emphasizing the Materialism of thought. In an
address prefixed to his tenth Edition, speaking of the hypothesis of
Mind acting on Brain he calls it "the tragi-comic pianoforte theory,"
and regrets that there should be so many "human pianofortes out of tune
in the world." Büchner's own Materialism is outspoken, as may be judged
from the following propositions:--
1. Spirit without Body is unimaginable.
2. The Soul brings with it "no innate intuitions"; and
3. It is not an _ens per se_, but a product of external influences.
4. There is no individual immortality nor personal continuance after
death.
5. The Soul's knowledge relates only to earthly things.
6. It becomes a _person_ by being opposed to earthly individualities.
7. (Adopted from C. Vogt) "The soul ... is a product of the development
of the brain; just as muscular activity is a product of muscular
development, and secretion a product of glandular development. So soon
as the substances composing the brain are aggregated in a similar form,
will they exhibit the same functions.... Mental activity changes with
the periods of life, and ceases altogether at death."
Büchner's writings are sufficiently known in this country. In America
they are food for the million.
Proposition No. 6 is particularly noticeable because it re-echoes the
fallacy of Locke (see page 182-3 _ante_) on personal identity. By
opposition to earthly individualities we do not "_become_" persons, but
the sense of antagonism between ourselves and other externalities (both
men and things), sharpens every day our belief in our own personality,
and furnishes its daily verification.
The grossness of this writer's Materialism does not hinder him from
using the word "soul" on almost every page; and in one of his more
recent publications he is candid enough to acknowledge that this
old-fashioned entity is not yet quite improved off the face of the
Earth. He says:--"Just the properties of the human mind and the
impossibility of explaining them, were from the most ancient times one
of the main supports of spiritualism and theological systems. True,
their explanation is still wanting." Büchner, of course, looks for
the speedy elimination of "Soul" proper, on exactly the same grounds
which underlie his own whole system. Mental activity and Brain go
together (he argues), as Force and Matter go together. It may be
answered, that every practical reasoner knows the danger of arguing
from _concomitancies_, however well-established, to _Causality_; and
the risk is evidently much increased when a like argument is used to
_Identity_. Besides, if Mental activity is resolvable into Brain, why
should not Matter be likewise resolved into Force? Thus the whole
Universe, inanimate and animated, material and psychical, becomes
Force. The chain would run in this manner: Mind = Brain = Matter =
Force. But how are we to know that Force must be all of one kind and
description? Or, again, why may not the concomitancies be rather
resolved some other way;--_e.g._, Matter (including Brain) = Force =
Mind? Thus Materialism might slide into Idealism, Pantheism, or even
Theism; since in some shape or other Mind would form and sustain the
Universe. Our last citation of Büchner is taken from a New York Edition
of his _Materialism_, p. 19.
[148] In other words, that kind of law which pervades the lowest sphere
of Nature is conceived as dominant over the highest also. The whole
Universe is submitted to its iron rule. There is of Man's Mind as well
as of the flagstone with which he paves his streets, one account, one
law, one science, one philosophy; nay, strangely enough, as we shall
see further on, one religion! The law of stocks and stones is supreme,
it rules alike Man's present and his future, and ought to be the sole
object of his veneration.
Positivism, as is well known, makes many sciences and classifies them
by an ascending scale of Laws. "La Philosophie Positive," writes Littré
(_Paroles_, p. 10) ... "apercevant que, suivant la vraie conception,
où la matière n'est pas séparable de ses propriétés, le mot de
matérialisme n'avait plus d'emploi philosophique qu'en histoire, elle
l'a renouvelé, et s'en est servie pour caractériser l'intrusion de la
méthode de toute science inférieure dans la science supérieure."
If Littré had said, "the intrusion of the _lowest_ into the highest,"
he would have rightly characterized the systems we are describing.
Von Feuchtersleben puts the practical state of the question thus:--"All
we can say is, that an intellectual world reveals itself to us, by the
law of the true, the good, and the beautiful, and that a physical world
manifests itself by those laws which act in space and time. What lies
beyond these laws, as it were the substance of both worlds, we know
not; we only call that of the physical world, matter or body in the
abstract, that of the super-physical, we call spirit (Geist), and must
never forget that hereby we have only pronounced an abstraction.
"But now we ask further, wherein does this higher law manifest itself
to us, as the physical law does in the material world? Nowhere but
in man, and in him only through the medium of his cultivated and
refined reason. What we feel, what we remember, nay, the very inmost
sensations of our individual existence, may be referred to the world
which surrounds us. Thought alone, exalted to the highest degree shows
us another world. We are ourselves therefore not spirit, but we watch,
as it were, what we call by that name, and which manifests itself
to us only by its laws. (Est Deus in nobis.) Man, therefore, should
be the link which connects the two worlds; and this is the problem,
this is the enigma, which can never be solved." He adds in a note:
"Materialism, that is, the view which will not allow the separation
of the intellectual principle from the corporeal, but looks upon the
former as a higher power of the latter, not only explains nothing,
but makes the enigma still more obscure. _Medical Psychology_, Ed.
Sydenham, pp. 15-16.
[149] Compare footnote (_c_) pp. 56-7 _ante_. This whole theory
is dreamlike,--a sort of romance or revel of a half-metaphysical,
half-materializing imagination. The following rather long extract from
Haeckel's book will shew the hypothesis on its most poetical side.
But alas for its prose, and its plain practical application! "It is
indeed," he writes, "not difficult to arrive through an unprejudiced
consideration of facts, at a clear conviction that Theism, which
has its origin in Mythology, and which, under the name of "Pure
Monotheism," rules the civilized peoples of modern day, and plays
even now so conspicuous a part in organic Morphology as the Myth of
Creation, is in fact not Monotheism but AMPHITHEISM. This
predominant religion was MONOTHEISM only so long as all
Natural Phenomena were, without any exception, taken to be the direct
result of the personal divine government of the world,--only so long
as all inorganic or organic Phenomena--from the blowing of the wind
and the rolling of the thunder, to the light of the sun and the course
of the stars; from the flowery fragrance of plants and the wing of
the bird, to the Mind-formation of Man and the development-history
of peoples;--were direct actions of a monarchical, personal Creator.
But when modern Natural Science demonstrated that the whole realm of
inorganic Nature was governed by fixed, unvarying laws of Nature;
when Physics and Chemistry reduced Abiology to mathematical formulæ,
then the half of his realm was wrested from the personal Creator, and
there remained to him organic Nature alone, and even the half of this
was next set free by recent Physiology, so that organic Morphology
alone remained subject to the personal, arbitrary government of the
mediatised ruler of the world. Thus, out of the earlier Monotheism
grew up that full-blown Amphitheism which at present rules the modern
Cosmology of civilized peoples; and which appears in Science as the
thoroughly perverted Dualism against which we have contended most
determinedly in our General Morphology. For, what else is this Dualism
but the battle between two Gods of fundamentally distinct natures? On
the one hand, we see in the realm of Abiology, dominated by Mechanism,
the exclusive sovereignty of unvarying and necessary Nature-laws, of
the [Greek: anankê], which at all times and in all places constantly
remains one and the same.
"On the other hand, in the realm of Biology (which is still governed
by Teleology), and especially in the realm of organic Morphology, we
see the ridiculous arbitrary government of a personal and thoroughly
humanlike Creator, who vainly wearies himself with endeavouring to
create a 'perfect' Organism, and constantly rejects the earlier
creations of a 'former age,' in that he is continually setting up
new and improved editions in their places. We have already shewn, in
our sixth chapter, why we must entirely reject this pitiful idea of
a personal Creator (Vol. I. p. 173). It is in fact a degradation of
the pure God-Idea. Most men picture to themselves this 'beloved God'
as being thoroughly humanlike: he is in their eyes an architect, who
is engaged in carrying on the construction of the world according
to some previously rejected plan; but who never gets done with it,
because during the process of completion, he is always hitting on new
and better ideas; he is a Stage-manager, who directs the earth like a
great puppet-play, and generally knows how to handle with tolerable
skill the numerous threads by which he manages the hearts of men:
he is a half-deprived king who only rules over the inorganic realm
conditionally, and according to firmly fixed laws; rules on the other
hand over the organic realm absolutely as patriarchal land-father, who
in this domain allows himself to be led into a daily alteration of his
world-plan by the wishes and prayers of his own children, among whom
the most perfect Vertebrates are those principally favoured.
"Let us turn away from this unworthy Anthropomorphism of modern
Dogmatics, which degrade God himself into an aerial Vertebrate, and
let us look on the contrary at the infinitely higher God-Idea to
which Monism conducts us; in that it demonstrates the UNITY OF GOD in
the whole of Nature, and abolishes the antithesis of an organic and
inorganic God which sows the germ of a death-agony in the heart of
that predominating Amphitheism. Our Cosmology knows only ONE SOLE GOD,
and this ALMIGHTY GOD rules the whole of Nature without exception. We
contemplate his operation in all phenomena of every description. To it
the whole inorganic material world is subject, and so too the whole
world of organization. If each body _in vacuo_ falls fifteen feet in
the first second; if three atoms of Oxygen to one of Sulphur always
produce Sulphuric Acid; if the angle which one columnar surface of
rock crystal makes with the neighbouring one is always 120°; then,
these phenomena are the immediate operations of God, equally with the
blossoms of plants, the movements of animals, the thoughts of Mankind.
We all exist by 'God's grace'; the stone as well as the water, the
Radiolarian as well as the pine tree, the gorilla as much as the
Emperor of China.
"This Cosmology which contemplates GOD'S SPIRIT AND POWER IN
ALL NATURAL PHENOMENA is alone worthy of His all-comprehensive
greatness; only when we refer all forces and all phenomena of movement,
all forms and properties of matter, to God, as the Author of all
things, do we attain to that human intuition of God, and veneration
of God, which really befits his immeasurable greatness. For 'in Him
we live and move and have our being.' Thus the philosophy of Nature
becomes in fact Theology. The worship of Nature becomes that true
worship of God of which Göethe says:--'CERTAINLY THERE IS NO MORE
BEAUTIFUL VENERATION OF GOD, THAN THAT WHICH ARISES FROM COMMUNION WITH
NATURE IN OUR OWN BREASTS.'
"GOD IS ALMIGHTY; he is the sole Author, the prime Cause of
all things; that is, in other words, GOD IS THE UNIVERSAL CAUSAL
LAW. God is absolutely perfect; he can never act otherwise than
perfectly rightly, therefore he can never act arbitrarily or freely;
that is to say, GOD IS NECESSITY. God is the sum of all
forces; so also, therefore, of all Matter. Every conception of God,
which separates him from Matter, opposes to him a sum of forces which
are not of divine Nature; every such conception leads to Amphitheism,
consequently to Polytheism.
"Since MONISM demonstrates the UNITY OF THE WHOLE OF
NATURE, it proves, likewise, that only ONE GOD exists,
and that this God manifests himself in the collective phenomena of
Nature. Since Monism grounds the collective phenomena of organic and
inorganic Nature on the UNIVERSAL CAUSAL LAW, and displays
them as the effects of 'active causes,' it shews at the same time,
that GOD IS THE NECESSARY CAUSE OF ALL THINGS AND IS THE LAW
ITSELF. Since Monism acknowledges no other beside the divine
Forces in Nature, since it recognizes all laws of Nature as divine, it
raises itself to the greatest and most elevated conception of which
man, as the most perfect of all animals, is capable, to the conception
of the UNITY OF GOD AND NATURE.
'Was wär' ein Gott, der nur von aussen stiesse,
Im Kreis das All am Finger laufen liesse!
Ihm ziemt's, die Welt im Innern zu bewegen,
Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur zu hegen,
So dass, was in Ihm lebt und webt und ist,
Nie Seine Kraft, nie Seinen Geist vermisst.'"
Haeckel's _Generelle Morphologie der Organismen_. Vol. II. Book viii.
Chap. 30.
No one who reads the latter part of this quotation will doubt that
Haeckel is a refined, or, in other words, a metaphysical Materialist.
That he has produced an effect in materializing circles is evident;
witness the following passages from Büchner "the crass." "To any one
who does not stubbornly and obstinately cling to old prejudices, this
new Cosmology which has superseded the dualism of former systems
of philosophy and thought, must appear as clear, simple, free of
dualism, easily intelligible and perfectly satisfactory. On account
of this very antagonism to the dualistic character of the speculative
philosophy of the past, I should like best to designate the philosophy
of Materialism as _monistic philosophy_, or _philosophy of unity_;
and the cosmology founded upon it as _monism_, in accordance with the
suggestion of Professor Haeckel.... Since the indestructibility of
matter, as previously described, has found its necessary complement
in the indestructibility of force; and since the separation of force
and matter has been recognized as a mere abstraction and existing
only in our thoughts: it is really impossible to speak any longer of
Materialism as a system which derives everything from matter only.
Otherwise we might just as well speak of _Dynamism_, that is of a
system that derives everything from force (dynamis). But in reality
both are identical and inseparable; and therefore a philosophy built
upon those ideas cannot be better designated than as _monistic_, or
a _philosophy of unity_." (_Materialism, ut supra_ p. 24.) This last
phrase is more metaphysical than Büchner's wont; but S. T. Coleridge,
if alive, would tell him that what the world really wants, is a
"Philosophy of Multeity in Unity." To annihilate the Manifold is to
destroy our sole knowledge of the One.
[150] It was previously intimated that the idealizing philosopher often
escapes ethical censure more easily than he deserves. Idealism may,
or may not, be a bar to irreligious materialism. For example:--"The
materialism of Strauss was not inconsistent with an idealism of the
Hegelian type; for, as he showed in his last work, the question
between logically consistent idealists and materialists who carry out
their principles is, at its roots, one of names and terms rather than
of antagonistic principles." _Pall Mall Gazette_ for Feb. 11, 1874.
The Idealism referred to, is that which identifies pure Being with
Impersonal Thought. Now Berkeley's idealism culminated with the Divine
Personality, through whose omnipresence and spiritual subsistence
those properties or modes of existence, called material, are realized
to us, who, together with all the world, exist in and by Him. Yet, as
far as Berkeley's argument rests upon the common ground of idealistic
reasoning, it is approachable by the Atheist or the Sceptic. Of Hobbes
a reviewer has lately remarked: "He clearly demonstrated that the
secondary qualities of body are purely subjective, and his language
is almost strong enough to lead us to believe that he would have gone
a long way with Berkeley. For he claims to have proved that 'as in
vision, so also in _conceptions_ that arise from the other senses,
the subject of their inherence is not the object but the sentient.'"
_Westminster Review_, April, 1874, p. 387.
The truth from which so many theories, physical and metaphysical,
branch out, is thus clearly stated by Professor Huxley. "All the
phenomena of nature are, in their ultimate analysis, known to us only
as facts of consciousness." "On Descartes," _Lay Sermons_, p. 374.
This statement is an incontrovertible proposition; and may help in
persuading us to believe our own souls. At all events, we plainly see
that the sum total of our human knowledge is potentially contained in
their evidence.
[151] A mongrel Word-book would be a valuable addition to popular
science. How many metaphysicians proper, or how many skilled students
of Natural Science, can explain that novel compound "Psychoplasm"? The
_Westminster Review_ is _not_ lost in admiration for either this new
coinage, or another specimen from the same mint,--"Metempirics." (See
No. for July, 1874.) The _Fortnightly_ is more congratulatory.
[152] Ravaisson, the great philosophical critic of France, considers
Biology among the sciences directly antagonistic to Materialism.
He classifies the tendencies of scientific studies thus. There
are, he says, "Deux directions opposées auxquelles nous inclinent
les deux ordres differents de connaissances:--la direction qui
aboutit au Materialisme, et c'est celle dans laquelle nous engagent
les mathématiques et la physique, et la direction qui mène au
spiritualisme, et c'est celle où acheminent la biologie et surtout les
sciences morales et esthétiques." (_La Philosophie en France_, p. 98.)
His description of a certain degree of progress in the mind of Comte
illustrates this same idea:--"Il comprit, en présence de la vie, que
ce n'était pas assez, comme il avait pu le croire dans la sphère des
choses mécaniques et physiques, de considérer des phénomènes à la suite
ou à côté les uns des autres, mais que, de plus, que surtout il fallait
prendre en considération l'ordre et l'ensemble.
"En présence des êtres organisés, on s'aperçoit, disait-il, que le
détail des phénomènes, quelque explication plus ou moins suffisante
qu'on en donne, n'est ni le tout ni même le principal; que le
principal, et l'on pourrait presque dire le tout, c'est l'ensemble dans
l'espace, le progrès dans le temps, et qu'expliquer un être vivant, ce
serait montrer la raison de cet ensemble et de ce progrès, qui est la
vie même....
"Dans les sciences des choses inorganiques, disait-il encore, on
procède par déduction des détails au tout; dans les sciences des êtres
organisés, c'est de l'ensemble que se tire par déduction, la vraie
connaissance des parties.
"De plus, d'accord maintenant avec Platon, Aristote, Leibniz, il
déclarait que l'ensemble étant le résultat et l'expression d'une
certaine unité, à laquelle tout concourt et se co-ordonne et qui est le
but où tout marche, c'est dans cette unité, c'est dans le but, c'est
dans la fin ou cause finale qu'est le secret de l'organisme.
"Le 16 Juillet 1843, écrivant à M. Stuart Mill, il exprimait l'opinion
que, si ce savant ne le suivait pas dans les voies plus larges où
dorénavant il allait marchait, c'est que, très-versé dans les études
mathématiques et physiques, il n'était pas assez familier avec les
phénomènes de la vie. Plus avancé dans la science biologique, M. Mill
aurait mieux compris comment il faut, outre le détail des faits,
quelque chose qui les domine, qui les combine et les co-ordonne."
(_Ibid._ p. 75, _seq._)
[153] These pages are inappropriate to that wide and momentous
controversy:--Has each Science a Method of its own?--and by consequence
its own terminology? That such a question remains to be debated, is a
clear proof that most of our philosophizing is yet tentative; and has
not passed over the critical "first stage."
CHAPTER IV.
BELIEFS OF REASON.
"While we indulge to the _Sensitive_ or _Plantal_ Life, our delights
are common to us with the creatures _below_ us: and 'tis likely, they
exceed us as much in them, as in the senses their subjects; and that's
a poor happiness for Man to aim at, in which Beasts are his Superiours.
But those Mercurial spirits which were only lent the Earth to shew
Men their folly in admiring it; possess delights of a nobler make and
nature, which as it were antedate _Immortality_; and, at an humble
distance, resemble the joyes of the world of _Light_ and _Glory_.
The _Sun_ and _Stars_, are not the world's _Eyes_, but _These_: the
_Celestial Argus_ cannot glory in such an universal view. These
out-travel theirs, and their _Monarch's_ beams: passing into _Vortexes_
beyond their Light and Influence; and with an easie twinkle of an
Intellectual Eye look into the _Centre_, which is obscur'd from the
upper Luminaries. This is somewhat like the Image of _Omnipresence_.
And what the _Hermetical Philosophy_ saith of _God_, is in a sense
verifiable of the thus _ennobled soul_, That _its Centre is every
where, but its circumference no where_....
".... And yet there's an higher degree, to which _Philosophy_ sublimes
us. For, as it teacheth a generous contempt of what the grovelling
desires of _creeping_ Mortals Idolize and dote on: so it raiseth us
to love and admire an Object, that is as much above terrestrial, as
_Infinite_ can make it. If _Plutarch_ may have credit, the observation
of Nature's Harmony in the _Celestial Motions_ was one of the first
inducements to the belief of _a God_. And a greater then he affirms,
that the visible things of the Creation declare him, that made them.
What knowledge we have of them, we have in a sense of their Authour.
His face cannot be beheld by Creature-Opticks, without the allay of a
reflexion; and Nature is one of those mirrors, that represents him to
us. And now, the more we know of him the more we love him, the more
we are like him, the more we admire him. 'Tis here that _knowledge
wonders_; and there's an _Admiration_, that's not the _Daughter_ of
_Ignorance_. This indeed stupidly gazeth at the unwonted _effect_.
But the Philosophical passion truly admires and adores the supreme
_Efficient_ ....
".... And from this last article, I think I may conclude the charge,
which hot-brained folly layes in against _Philosophy_; that it leads
to _Irreligion_, frivolous and vain. I dare say, next after the
divine _Word_, it's one of the best friends to _Piety_. Neither is it
any more justly accountable for the impious irregularities of some,
that have paid an homage to its shrine; than Religion itself for the
extravagancies both _opinionative_ and _practick_ of high pretenders
to it. It is a vulgar conceit, that _Philosophy_ holds a confederacy
with _Atheism_ itself, but most _injurious_: for nothing can better
antidote us against it: and they may as well say, that _Physitians_ are
the only _murtherers_. A _Philosophick Atheist_, is as good sense as a
Divine one."--_Glanvill's Apology for Philosophy_, at end of _Scepsis
Scientifica_, Ed. I. p. 177, seq.
* * * * *
[Greek: Esti gar apaideusia to mê gignôskein tinôn dei zêtein apodeixin
kai tinôn ou dei Holôs men gar hapantôn adynaton apodeixin einai; eis
apeiron gar an badizoi, hôste mêd' houtôs einai apodeixin.] Arist.
_Metaph._ IV. ([Greek: G]) cap. 4.
The following is the translation of MM. Pierron et Zévort: "C'est
de l'ignorance de ne pas savoir distinguer ce qui a besoin de
démonstration de ce qui n'en a pas besoin. Il est absolument impossible
de tout démontrer: il faudrait pour cela aller à l'infini; de sorte
qu'il n'y aurait même pas de démonstration." Métaphysique d'Aristote,
Tome I. p. 116.
"Man's higher Instinct leads to lofty aspiration,
To generous sentiment, and boundless desire,
Till he seeks and finds the Author of his Soul.
In seeking for him he perfects his virtue,
By finding him he is made strong within,
And being strong he strengthens his brethren."
"Light is natural to the Eye, and the Eye improves under Light,
So Truth is natural to the Mind, and the Mind improves under Truth.
But the student of Goodness must himself become good,
So far at least as to choose Goodness for his best portion.
If base passion or worldliness is allowed to domineer,
No man can gaze steadily at Purity and at God.
And then perhaps he despairs of religious truth,
And moralizes on Man's feebleness and limited faculties,
So unfitted to fathom the Divine and to know the Eternal!"
F. NEWMAN. _Theism_, pp. 2 and 12.
"The world offers just now the spectacle, humiliating to us in many
ways, of millions of people clinging to their old idolatrous religions,
and refusing to change them even for a higher form; whilst in Christian
Europe thousands of the most cultivated class are beginning to consider
atheism a permissible, or even a desirable thing. The very instincts
of the savage rebuke us. But just when we seem in danger of losing
all, may come the moment of awakening to the dangers of our loss. A
world where thought is a secretion of the brain-gland, where free-will
is the dream of a madman that thinks he is an emperor though naked
and in chains, where God is not, or at least not knowable, such is
not the world as we learnt it, on which great lives have been lived
out, great self-sacrifices dared, great piety and devotion have been
bent to soften the sin, the ignorance, and the misery. It is a world
from which the sun is withdrawn, and with it all light and life. But
this is not our world as it was, not the world of our fathers. To
live is to think and to will. To think is to see the chain of facts
in creation, and passing along its golden links, to find the hand of
God at its beginning, as we saw His handiwork in its course. And to
will is to be able to know good and evil; and to will aright is to
submit the will entirely to a will higher than ours. So that with God
alone can we find true knowledge and true rest, the vaunted fruits of
philosophy."--_Limits of Philosophical Inquiry_. By the Archbishop of
York, p. 24.
"The mind of man becomes
A thousand times more beautiful than the earth
On which he dwells, above this frame of things
* * * * *
In beauty exalted, as it is itself
Of quality and fabric more divine."
WORDSWORTH. _The Prelude_, sub. fin.
"Religion, Poetry is not dead; it will never die. Its dwelling and
birth place is in the soul of man, and it is eternal as the being
of man. In any point of space, in any section of Time, let there be
a living Man; and there is an Infinitude above him and beneath him,
and an Eternity encompasses him on this hand and on that; and tones
of Sphere-music, and tidings from loftier worlds, will flit round
him, if he can but listen, and visit him with holy influences, even
in the thickest press of trivialities, or the din of busiest life.
Happy the man, happy the nation, that can hear these tidings; that has
them written in fit characters, legible to every eye, and the solemn
import of them present at all moments to every heart! That there is,
in these days, no nation so happy, is too clear; but that all nations,
and ourselves in the van, are, with more or less discernment of its
nature, struggling towards this happiness, is the hope and the glory
of our time. To us, as to others, success, at a distant or a nearer
day, cannot be uncertain. Meanwhile, the first condition of success
is, that, in striving honestly ourselves, we honestly acknowledge
the striving of our neighbour; that with a will unwearied in seeking
Truth, we have a sense open for it wheresoever and howsoever it may
arise."--CARLYLE. _Miscellanies_, p. 99, Last Edition.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER IV.
With the last Chapter closes what may be termed the more critical part
of this Essay. The remainder is occupied with a series of affirmative
arguments.
The preparation for these arguments having been minutely made,
explanatory additions become less necessary.
The main object of the present chapter is to establish a tenable
Theory respecting those Human Beliefs among which is included our
primary Belief in Theism. Their nature and validity not having as yet
been sufficiently investigated (see footnote (_b_) p. 256 _post_),
some extent of discussion attends the inquiry. To many readers the
territory opened out will appear new. It ought however to be traversed
by all careful students of Psychology.
* * * * *
_Analysis_:--Tendencies of the Human Mind resulting in certain
concrete Beliefs. The Inductive Principle, or Law of Uniformity,
investigated. Various explanations of its origin examined and
rejected; particularly the hypothesis which resolves it into Laws of
Association. Shewn to be a primary Belief; at first pre-rational,
afterwards limited and established by Reason. The latter process
separates by a strong line of demarcation the realm of Humanity from
that of the lower creation.
Animal instincts, some improvable, some "survivals." Human instincts
transformed by Reason. Certain primary Beliefs peculiar to Man. Hence
his special culture.
Theism. Fallacies from confusion between Tests of Speculative and of
Practical Truth. Lesson of Mathematics. Speculative truths tested by
analytic process; Practical by synthetic; their work becomes their
ever-growing verification. Application of this test to two practical
beliefs; our natural belief in externalities, and our belief in the
Supernatural. Speculative difficulties intruded into the practical
sphere become apparently insuperable. Both spheres essentially Human.
Natural Realism compared with Realistic Theism.
Formation and growth of Belief in the Supernatural as a Belief of
Reason. Absurdities attaching to its rejection. Ennobling influences
of its acceptance explained and exemplified. Ideal of Humanity,
crowned by the Ideal of God, to Whom both the Natural and the Moral
world bear witness.
CHAPTER IV.
BELIEFS OF REASON.
In the last section, we have examined a number of intellectual
perplexities, running closely parallel to certain _primâ-facie_
objections commonly alleged against Natural Theism. We have seen
that they are, in reality, difficulties arising from the impotence
of the Human Mind, whenever it is directed to the contemplation of
first or supreme, Principles. In all reason therefore, they cease to
be objections. We are, in fact, constantly finding ourselves obliged
to accept as an undeniable truth, or a real existence, what when
placed objectively before our mental vision, appears inexplicable,
self-contradictory, or absolutely unthinkable.
The power which compels us to many an admission of this kind is
the _mind itself_, asserting a strength of insight, in-born and
inalienable, notwithstanding the symptoms of weakness, which
(psychologically speaking) may have seemed threatening to overcloud and
disable it.[ac]
Hence, we are led to suspect that some at least of those symptomatic
weaknesses, are mistakes in diagnosis. This suspicion will be shared by
most persons tolerably acquainted with the present state of psychology,
and particularly with the manner in which foregone theories are
supported by over-refined analysis. At all events, the reactionary
strength of the mind is best shown in the concrete beliefs resulting
from its own simplest activities.
Our simplest mental activities are naturally our earliest. Amongst
them, none are more distinctly marked than our impulses to believe
and act upon certain definite pre-suppositions. These differ from the
vague and purposeless dreams of childhood, by gradually becoming clear,
practical, and expansive. One of the most vigorous, permanent, and
prevailing, amongst them all, is our human belief in the existence of
supernatural power. Upon another presupposition (not originally the
clearest), seems to rest, in the first degree, that principle which
gives validity to all the inductive sciences. We will carefully examine
this latter belief, with the object of drawing from the process certain
aids for an examination of the former.[ad]
Induction is defined as the legitimate inference of the more general,
from the less general;--the general from the particular;--and (with
more startling distinctness) of the Unknown from the Known. It is at
once evident that, whatever may be the logical form into which this
mode of inferring is thrown, there must in the nature of things be
some ulterior principle to give it legitimacy. This principle, when
raised to the rank and dignity of a philosophic postulate, is commonly
known as the Law of Natural Uniformity. A law claiming such extensive
dominion that one cannot help asking in what code, human or Divine, of
reason or of experience, it was originally found written.
Let us have recourse to the code of reason first. Euclid gives
admirable instances of things true by necessity of reason. The moment
we understand what right lines are, we see at once and for all time
that two straight lines, infinitely prolonged, can never inclose a
space. No one ever did see a mathematical line of any kind ("length
without thickness"),--no one ever saw or conceived any real or ideal
thing of infinite extent, neither can we think infinity at all. Yet
the terms of the geometrical proposition carry their own evidence. We
may sum the case, as Euler the mathematician put it. He finished a
demonstration upon _Arches_ by saying, "All experience is contrary to
this, but that is no reason for doubting its truth."
Now, there appears nothing in the least resembling this case, in the
conception of Natural Uniformity. No thinker can predicate substantial
impossibility of the idea that Nature should ever be otherwise than
Uniform.
Suppose, then, we consider the code of Experience. Where shall we find
the experience required? Ours is far short of universal, either in an
absolute or an approximate sense. We are the children of to-day--yet
the law wanted must be to all intents universal. It has been answered
to this obvious requirement, that we enjoy the results of an experience
constant and uniform, "coextensive not with the life of the single
individual who employs them, but with the entire history of the human
race."[154] But in what history is any such experience written?
History in its _letter_, is full of events which contradict Nature's
uniformity, of interruptions, marvels, miracles. For cattle to speak,
is quite a common occurrence in Livy. An ordinary Roman would have been
perplexed by the absence of signs and wonders; he would have felt it
something to be accounted for. History tells us on every written page
to believe in what seems impossible; and some writers on historical
evidence, claim for it a greater amount of credibility whenever it
testifies to the greater number of improbable incidents. For, do not
writers of fiction deal in probabilities?[155]
Another method of giving force to the principle of natural Uniformity,
is based on our alleged sense of personal subjection to the chain
of events;--the outer world is said to penetrate the inner by an
impression of its unvarying sequence, its laws of unbroken continuity.
But does the lesson of life really go this way? Most men, when
meditating over their own lives, think rather of the causation they
have themselves exercised, or might have exercised, than of any iron
links of causality in nature. So strongly do they feel their causal
power, that, whereas one man boasts of being the architect of his own
fortunes, another blames himself because he has been foolish enough
to let things take their chance. What people chiefly realize and act
upon, is the relation between Man and Nature--or, else between Man
and Man;--relations prolific in consequences which we shall have to
consider by-and-bye.
A more summary mode of explaining our human impression of natural
Uniformity, is by resolving it into certain laws of Association. We
see antecedent and consequent every day, and get to consider them as
indissolubly associated. If we see a present antecedent, we expect a
coming consequent. The event and its futurity, are thus fused in a
common solvent. Yet, one palpable objection lies against this theory,
and it is fatal. Fatal against it, and against all theories which rest
our belief upon experience, or upon any process of reasoning, inductive
or demonstrated. The objection consists in the plain fact, that this
belief resembles animal instinct[156] in _one_ definite particular--it
exists previously to all observation or exercise of intelligence on the
subject.
We see it in all young creatures. The instinct of children is to act
upon a supposition that the thing they have enjoyed or suffered shall
recur regularly and without interruption. The darling brought down to
dessert every day for a week, feels injured by a breach of the custom,
just as the cat or dog fed from their masters' table expects the same
hand to continue always kind. Child, kitten, and puppy, need no second
scalding to look askance at the tea-kettle. Grown people's confidence
in the stability of Empires often reposes on no much stronger
foundation. Most men rest satisfied with an indefinite and unreasoning
presumption all their lives long. They desire no further explanation--a
happy circumstance, perhaps, considering the theories they might have
to investigate.
Mr. James Mill in his "Analysis of the Human Mind" made great and
continual use of the laws of Association. He applied them (amongst
other ways) to our belief in the uniform futurities of Nature. "There
can" he writes "be no idea of the Future; because strictly speaking
the Future is a non-entity--of nothing there can be no idea.... Our
whole lives are but a series of changes, that is, of antecedents and
consequents. The conjunction, therefore, is incessant; and, of course,
the union of the ideas perfectly inseparable." (Vol. I. pp. 362-3.)
And again, (p. 367,) "But I am told, that we have not only the idea
of to-morrow, but the belief of to-morrow; and I am asked what that
belief is. I answer, that you have not only the idea of to-morrow, but
have it _inseparably_. It will also appear, that wherever the name
belief is applied, there is a case of the indissoluble association of
ideas. It will further appear, that, in instances without number, the
name belief is applied to a mere case of indissoluble association; and
no instance can be adduced in which anything besides an indissoluble
association can be shewn in belief. It would seem to follow from this,
with abundant evidence, that the whole of my notion of to-morrow,
belief included, is nothing but a case of the inevitable sequence
of ideas."--This theory Mr. Bain (no hostile critic) annotates as
follows. "The case that is most thoroughly opposed to the theory of
indissoluble association is our belief in the Uniformity of Nature. Our
overweening tendency to anticipate the future from the past is shown
prior to all association; the first effect of experience is to abridge
and modify a strong primitive urgency. There is, no doubt, a certain
stage when association co-operates to justify the believing state.
After our headlong instinct has, by a series of reverses, been humbled
and toned down, and after we have discovered that the Uniformity, at
first imposed by the mind upon everything, applies to some things and
not to others, we are confirmed by our experience in the cases where
the uniformity prevails; and the intellectual growth of association
counts for a small part of the believing impetus. Still, the efficacy
of experience is perhaps negative rather than positive; it saves, in
certain cases, the primitive force of anticipation from the attacks
made upon it in the other cases where it is contradicted by the facts.
It does not make belief, it conserves a pre-existing belief." In Mr.
Bain's comment it is worthy of particular remark that he considers
experience less as a foundation, than a _test_ always,--a _limit_
sometimes,--of that law which gives life to all the experimental
sciences. "The uniformity imposed by the mind," he observes,
"applies to some things but not to others." His view, therefore,
places the principle itself in the light of a generality given by
the mind and apprehended as a leading maxim. Its field is sometimes
reasserted,--sometimes contracted,--by experience; but in both cases
the effect is a process of discrimination.
In support of this view, it may be fairly urged that a child calculates
on the uniformity of human character and conduct, to an extent not
justified in after life. Any child correctly expects a stone to fall
when thrown into the air, without the least idea of that special reason
for its fall, which can be mathematically extended to the stars. In
like manner, our very earliest belief in the reality of men and objects
outside us, confuses persons and things as resisting antagonists which
ought to be punished and overcome. Experience, therefore, brings
discrimination. Thus, too, the natural apprehension of a power above
nature, occupies a more defined sphere in our own old age than the
first radiant glimpses of our wondering upward-springing childhood. And
the same may be said of the world's several eras of religious thinking.
Yet, if some eminent writers are correct in contending that the belief
in a Supreme "_Heaven-Father_," (so strong in the Aryan[157] family,)
was of extreme antiquity, we must admit that our race's infancy
cherished a more truly Theistic faith, than many intervening ages of
moral degeneracy retained.[158] But, side by side with this admission,
we ought to place _two_ notable facts,--_first_ that our sense of the
supernatural has really educated the great heart of Man; teaching him
from the love of God to love his neighbour likewise.--_Next_,--that
the awful impression has, on the whole, grown with his growth, and
strengthened with his strength; acquiring fresh light and beauty with
every fresh access to his noblest illumination. Exactly in proportion,
as man increasingly learns to love and live for his neighbour, he has
always increased the depth and earnestness with which he lives for and
loves his God. In these two facts is bound up the secret of our Western
civilization.
We must return, however, for a few paragraphs to the general
consideration of what may be called our pre-rational beliefs.[ae] That
they are pre-rational (account for them as we will), is evident since
from them spring our first tendencies to reason in special directions,
and our first ability to receive and assimilate such mental food as
may be afforded us. "The primary facts of intelligence,"--says Sir
W. Hamilton, "the facts which precede, as they afford the conditions
of, all knowledge,--would not be original were they revealed to us
under any other form than that of natural or necessary beliefs."[159]
A central point this; and one most essential for the Psychologist!
Indeed, every one who explains such beliefs into laws of association,
commits the oversight of refining away the chief fact involved in
those laws themselves. For, the very idea of association presupposes
a guiding impulse. How can we classify without a standard of
classification, arrange or connect without threads of connection or
arrangement? Laws of association must cluster round an associating
principle, just as translucent halos encircle the Sun. Laws of
association do not make principles; but an operative principle evokes
associations, and manifests itself in their law.
Oversights like this, and the one before noted by Mr. Bain, are
examples of the paralogism incident to all attempts at explaining the
inexplicable. In his eagerness, the metaphysical refiner subtilizes
away the truth under analysis. Even so, in days of old, Alchemists used
to sublimate the gold intended for transmuting inferior metals, till it
flew off in elastic vapour, and all that _had been_ precious, vanished
from the eager speculative man. A frequent issue this, to searchers
after our true philosopher's stone.
The catalogue of pre-rational beliefs or impulses to believe, is
considerable, and might easily be enlarged. But there is much to hinder
a full enumeration. In the first place, they emerge from a border-land
between the brute and the man; and border territories are proverbially
fertile in disputes. Next, they have to be sought out and examined
in the birthplace of intelligence; and the beginnings of knowledge
like the beginnings of history are overshadowed by a twilight haze.
Then, too, amongst the painters of human nature, (who after all are
but men,) there prevails a disinclination to confess how largely our
human life is cradled under the rule of unreason and impulsiveness.
Most of us hardly know why we act, yet, every one likes to believe
himself reasoning and reasonable. Finally, some religious minds
shrink back from realizing the idea of an _instinctive_ belief in the
moral antithesis of Right and Wrong, or in a Supreme First Cause and
Judge of all men. They feel as if to admit it were almost degrading
to Faith,--forgetful that the philosophic Apostle took this view and
expressed it with the utmost boldness.[160] Forgetful, also, that from
whatever source Man's reason sprang, from the same welled forth every
bright stream of practical activity,--impelling him to work in spheres
as yet unconquered by the force of his own understanding.
The hindrances now described are, after all, grounded on an inadequate
conception of the true distinction between the Animal and the Man.
Apart from the fact that ultimate objects of instinct differ as widely
as the idea of a future life differs from the poorest enjoyments of
the brute world,--quite apart from all consideration of aims and
ends,--the impulses themselves are in their own activities very far
indeed from occupying the same level. There are instincts of the
utmost importance to all self support and self protection, and to
the sustenance and care of others, which appear in their own nature
simple and unalterable;--unerring within their direct line, but beyond
it helpless and narrow in their field of operation. Other instincts
again,--such, for example, as impel animals to construction, and human
beings to art,--are evidently influenced and enlarged by intelligence.
Beavers adapt their dams, birds their nests, and the bee her comb,
to all kinds of circumstances, so far as they can command the means
of adaptation. Their intelligence also delights itself in different
kinds of adornment.[161] But the power of meeting exigencies, is
manifestly limited throughout the lower creation. The bee has, for
ages, worked upon marvellously accurate principles, unintelligible
to mathematicians before the calculus was invented, and only fully
explained of late years. She always erects one effectual and skilful
kind of barricade[162] against hostile swarms, as well as that
dreaded assailant, the Death's head moth. Furthermore, she evinces
readiness in fitting all her material structures to place, occasion,
and circumstance. Yet, observe the same bee exhausting herself by
vain struggles against the sloping roof of a greenhouse, of which
every window is thrown wide open. She perseveres, hour after hour, in
unavailing endeavours to escape by her one accustomed upward track
of flight, unable to conceive the possibility of transparent but
impenetrable glass; and incapable of learning the fact by her repeated
disappointments. In this way, hundreds of bees, butterflies, and other
winged insects, perish miserably every summer. So, too, the highly
educated and intelligent dog, will try to scratch holes in hard flag
stones, and, after trials innumerable, still scratches on without
seeming to discover that he never succeeds in making a single hole.
Thus, also, birds in captivity keep up the perpetual motion of their
heads--(useful to the poor prisoner no longer!) and generations after
generations of captives maintain the instinctive practice. Numberless
instances might easily be adduced to the same effect. But _no_ similar
observation holds good of man. The child soon discontinues its efforts
to thrust an arm through a glass window; and every day learns some new
lesson in the properties of material objects. The engineer builds dams
as well as the beaver;--but, beside dams, what marvels innumerable
does he achieve with his earthworks, his timbers, and his stones!
Speaking generally, we perceive that man has an instinctive tendency to
lay hold of a practical fact, idea, and law of action, as a concrete
whole;[163]--seizing it, at first, as the animal does without being
able to analyze, recompound, or extend it. But reason holds the candle
to instinct.[af] The impulse deepens and widens,--becomes distinguished
by boldness and comprehensive breadth;--and it is difficult, if not
impossible, to fix boundaries to its ultimate expansion. An expansion
coextensive with the completed destinies of mankind.
We say thus much of our lower instincts, transformed and made glorious
by reason shining through them; just as the setting sun transforms and
glorifies the clouds floating high overhead, or the half-translucent
foliage of the grove in which we walk. But there belong exclusively to
Man, instinctive beliefs, impulses, and ideas, which possess a glory
of their own;--raise him, _first_ above the brutes,--_next_ above
himself as he now exists,--and make him know that he may aspire to
become the denizen of a brighter world than this. Among them, is the
feeling that Nature herself is (like the tree or cloud illumined by the
sun), everywhere penetrated by a beauty and a power streaming through
her;--compared with the reality of which she is but a filmy veil,--or
it may be an illusive image. The sun himself, the light and life of the
lower world, symbolizes an existence more truly kindling and ensouling,
which animates and makes brilliant the blue arch of sky. Such thoughts
as these haunted the first utterances of our race,--and it needed but
another step to make us feel that this living light shines within
ourselves,--and that, go where we will, a strength and Majesty go with
us, which are not of the earth, earthy. Thus, the consciousness grew
upon Man that his inner being glows with a radiance more sparkling than
the stars, to which he lifts his bodily eyes. By-and-bye, he learned
to think of the heaven within him, as symbolic also;--and to cherish a
trembling trust that, when he dies, its brightness will grow pale, and
vanish away only by reason of a glory which excelleth.
The Apostle beloved of his Master, told us of a true Light that
lighteth every man. Yet, we might have been slow to realize the
purer splendours over-arching our human soul, if they had not
autotyped themselves on the language we commonly speak. Perhaps, a
more convincing proof still to some of us, is what every now and
then becomes incidentally known;--the God-ward impulses of a happily
developed childhood, under circumstances favourable to the growth of
"natural piety." In the heart of a child, feelings like those we have
described, dwell untutored, as in their native and and appropriate
home. An awe and dread accompany them amongst the world of men, but to
the child they are never overpowering or oppressive. His finely-strung
imagination works painlessly. The voices he hears when no human voice
speaks, cause him no fear;--they call to him from a region towards
which his young soul springs up. They soothe him with sensations of
hope and peace and love unutterable. This yearning affection for things
unseen, makes the deepest joy of a happy childhood; it is a reason why
Christ said, "Of such is the kingdom of Heaven."
A beautiful childhood is a very beautiful reality. Partly because
of the exquisite simplicity which tones down and harmonizes all its
impulses. But, very often, its beauty is only known in its loss;--and
we mourn in after years over hope, love, and peace, broken down by
life's attrition;--yet fair to look upon, even in their ruins.[ag]
No one is likely to doubt that the belief we have been describing, is
peculiar to and characteristic of Man. A more subtle question would be
this;--Suppose it could be taken away, how nearly would Man and brute
approach each other?[164] A question deserving the attention of every
one, who lives
"In self-adoring pride securely mailed."
Probably, the proudest of mankind little think how deeply their
culture, art, and refinement, are indebted to a faith shared by the
lowliest. One point, at least, seems clear,--if Morality did not perish
in the wreck, a true and independent moral sense would bring us back to
a belief in our own souls, their immortality, and their God.
Another question more essential to our purpose has been buried under
heaps of fallacy and misconception. Theists are often told that the
ideas of a Deity,--a future life,--and generally all that is conceived
as supernatural, have no absolute trustworthiness;--they are not
self-evident axioms, and they cannot be demonstrated. One answer to
these alleged difficulties has been implicitly given in the last
Chapter. If such objections are valid at all, they are valid against
every practical first-truth therein considered. They are valid against
_all_ primary practical truths, looked at from the theoretical side,
and tested by the rules proper to what is called pure Reason;--Reason,
that is to say, not applied, but speculative. But, then, it is from
this very employment of tests upon truth not _in pari materia_,
that the first stage of fallacy begins. The _second_ step in error
follows naturally from the first. Compared with the clearness and
definition of mathematics, all other axioms and proofs appear dim and
dubious. The consequence is, that our minds fall into trains of false
comparison on the all-important subject of certitude. Errors of that
kind are always growing mischiefs; our tongues follow the lead of
our thoughts, and hazy thinking becomes hazy speaking. Not only so,
but words develope themselves into the leaders of thought; and hazy
speaking engenders a hazier thinking still. People take mathematical
certainty to be the sole type of all true and valuable certainties.
Practical maxims are spoken of, as merely probable, Right and Wrong as
the efflux of moral sentiments.[165] Few seem to be aware _how_ the
philosophical arrangements of first-truths ought to be applied. They
should be applied to discriminate the _processes_, by which various
kinds of truths are discoverable;--they stamp a character upon them,
when discovered; but they do _not_ determine the intrinsic worth and
validity of the discoveries.
Why, let us ask, does Mathematical truth occupy so lofty a position?
Because, _first_, the constitution of our nature obliges us to accept
its axioms, and by consequence each successive step in its impregnable
demonstrations. _Next_, because we can verify so many of its theorems
objectively. We apply them to remote planetary and stellar spheres
beyond our own reach; where our own minds can neither alter nor colour
anything. What then ought to be the fair and legitimate inference from
an issue magnificently tried throughout the celestial universe? Surely
this, and no other. It confirms, in the very highest possible degree,
the truth-telling power of our own human nature. Whatsoever our mental
constitution clearly compels us to accept, that same we ought to hold
true, and maintain unswervingly.
Henceforth, therefore, we ought to look upon our Reason as having been
put upon its conclusive trial. Every year that passes renders the
verdict if possible more triumphant. We ought, henceforth, to make our
assent absolute and unhesitating in the case of those other truths,
which, while things continue as they now are, can never be tried and
confirmed by an appeal of the same description.
It is not difficult to see how opposite would have been the issue
from an employment of improper tests;--the test, for instance, of the
_Unthinkable_. The universe, we should then have said, must be thought
of as finite or as infinite. Either way it is inconceivable;--therefore
the Universe cannot exist objectively at all.
Vicious as such a process would be, it is not so faulty as that of
confounding the proper methods and attestations of speculative and
practical truth.[166] Our human consciousness must in _both_ cases
give our data. We have to ask and obtain its answers,--but, in the
two different spheres of knowledge, we must frame our interrogatories
differently, and expect assurances differing not in _degree_ of
certainty, but in _kind_;--in _value_ to human action;--and in the
_mode_ of their deliverance. We inquire into Speculative truth by
_analysing_ it, until we arrive at undemonstrable axioms which assert
their own validity. We assure ourselves that Practical principles are
true by following them in their _synthetic_ growth. Do they spring from
a maxim we find ourselves urged by our own nature to accept,--and the
opposite of which we cannot but broadly reject;--and do they really
_work_ in the world,--exert an ennobling influence within their own
domain, and intertwine themselves with the other truths and activities
of our human life? If so, we may be assured of their vitality and
their certitude. We know them, in short, by their stringency,--and by
a happy experience of their power. Consequently, our knowledge ought
to grow and strengthen, as our human age and the world's age both
roll on. Practical truth, thus tried and acknowledged, is indeed the
silver thread which leads us always. Some shrink from trusting it when
stretched across the grave; yet, without it, all beyond is lost in
haze, and our present life becomes enigmatical and self-contradictory.
Let us then apply the tests (found valid in their own practical sphere)
to the case of our belief in a Supernatural and supreme Power. But,
that we may do so with more evident effect, it will be well to place
in juxtaposition with it _another_ powerful belief, and our progress
will be rendered easier if we fix upon one which has already been,
in part at least, under discussion. Nothing seems better fitted for
this purpose, than what Professor Masson calls "the paramount fact,"
resulting alike to Hamilton and to Mill,--the universal persuasion in
men of their own existence, as beings distinct from, but related to, an
external world around them. It will be observed that, thus described,
the fact is of a most concrete sort,--our inner reality in relation to
an outer reality,--just as believing in a Supreme Being we believe in a
Power that holds solemn relations to our individual selves and to our
common Humanity.
We have therefore to observe the impression made upon our human
endowment of practical Reason, when looking face to face at these two
fact-beliefs, which for brevity's sake we shall call the _Natural_ and
the _Supernatural_.
Did the uninstructed and stammering childhood of our race, separate,
in thought, the _Supernatural_ from surrounding nature? Can we
absolutely say either yes or no to this inquiry? The "Heaven-Father"
of pre-historic[ah] day would seem if fully considered to make the
separation clear. The type-idea, thus outlined, is drawn, not from
symbolizing and personified Nature, but from an actual, living,
fatherly, Man. And the tendency of primitive Man might rather be to
raise natural objects into living beings, than to lower persons into
things.
It is so, we are sure, with our children's apprehension of the
_Natural_. They know a world of persons and things antagonistic to
their own wills and efforts, but they begin by making the things
into _persons_. A thwarted baby-boy beats the table, his kitten, and
his nurse indifferently. So far as observation has been extended to
the religious apprehensions of the very young, they would seem to
spiritualize the material universe;--to behold unseen powers in the
changing clouds, and hear them in the sighing of the wind. Wordsworth's
"Ode on Immortality" is a picture as full of childlike human truth, as
it is of unearthly beauty.
But, as regards _both_ principles, the human train of thought is nearly
similar in its first rise, and grows in definiteness and expansion by
a nearly similar process. A true Man sets each principle to work, and
from its working gathers its real value and verification.
If the world outside him were a phantastic shadow, the practical
conclusion fairly inferred would be _quietism_. Bolingbroke said to
King Richard--
"The shadow of your sorrow hath destroyed
The shadow of your face."
But, suppose both face and sorrow were themselves only shadows? What
worth in Man's body then,--what worth in his soaring mind? The natural
issue would be to drift down the shadowy[167] stream into a darker
abyss of Nothingness.
Speculation[168] must lay down its arms, as powerless against such a
supposition. The evidence of our senses[169] themselves is resolvable
into shadows.
It was not by speculation that our strong Western will encountered the
ideal enigmas of every day life. Act upon externalities, and they will
_re_act upon you. As a matter of fact, it is necessary to commence by
admitting that the souls of others are as _impenetrable_ to us, as the
material things into which we cannot force our way. But, things and
persons react upon us _differently_; and we act upon them in widely
_different_ ways. By an exertion of our will, we can change or stop a
_natural_ tide of inorganic antecedents and consequents and direct it
to our own purposes. _Beings_ like ourselves, we must allure, manage,
inform, and persuade. Soon we find, by experience, that other human
beings are very like ourselves; and the higher animals nearer to us
than stocks and stones. We find this through the exercise of our own
causal activities upon them.
The idea of the _Supernatural_ marches along no very dissimilar route.
The strong man subjects Nature, but the Supernatural is above both
it, and him. He cannot even _possess_ the thought of the Supreme.
Whether he will or no, it _possesses him_. To his reason, Nature
cannot subsist, as the true and independent ground of anything;--her
laws are the servants of his volition;--and her chain of antecedent
and consequent hangs between a First and a Last, without giving any
sufficient account of either. If the Universe began in a shining
Nebula, the question remains unsolved,--what first brought the thin
cloud into being? The practical Reason, confirmed by experience,
distinctly perceives that productive nature transforms all things,--but
originates nothing;--that, contrariwise, when human nature wills to
commit a wrong,--it really _originates_ the crime. A disputant may
assert that Man's will originates no act;--the criminal is never
guilty,--and the judge and jury who try him are not answerable for
their own decision. The same disputant may add that the Court in
which, they sit is unreal, and their bodily persons only shadows. The
one set of suppositions is as tenable as the other, and precisely as
unpractical.
In the common course of Nature, then, Mankind has learned to maintain,
as a truth of reason, that the Supernatural Power is a Will,--that is a
Personality. In other words Man becomes a Theist.
As in Natural Realism, so in realistic Theism, we try how our
principles will _work_. Realists in thought, we treat men and
things as natural realities; diverse when compared together, but
alike in outsideness as they stand related to ourselves. Action and
reaction then go on as are to be expected. Life seems to us one long
verification of the truth we began by accepting.--And so, too, it is
with our belief in a Being Supernatural and Divine. If we succeed in
figuring to ourselves a world of adaptation, order, law, progress,
unity, we have but to open our eyes, and it appears spread out before
us. If we think that the world's creation would blend all _physical_
needs into pleasurable pursuits and satisfactions, we may look and
see the union accomplished. If we frame a scheme of trial and _moral_
discipline, to raise the feeble and confirm the strong, its realization
is not wanting amongst us. From our own feelings, we can imagine how
a Father's eye would look pityingly down upon fear and sorrow, and
all the strains incidental to moving laws; the attrition of other
wills, the tumults, failures, ill doings, and perversities of our
sensitive and social existence. How a Father's hand would bind up
all that is weak, wild, and wilful in his children, with threads of
rainbow coloured hope and joyful anticipation; bidding them believe
that ere long the uncertain dimness, which is as morning spread upon
the mountains, shall brighten into steady splendour, shining on to a
perfect and unclouded day.
We find as a matter of fact that this hope is no stranger to the
human breast; that numbers live in it; numbers have died for it; and
pre-eminently those of whom the world was not worthy.
The growth of thought from a bare idea of the Supernatural to a belief
in a pure and sublime Theism,--and the sufficient account it renders of
the world, ourselves, and our destinies, must be looked upon as matters
of fact in the work-day history of mankind. Practical human reason
has really travelled by this track, and, from day to day, perceives
new truths to verify the old conclusion. Every attempt to adapt other
theories to the working facts become, by their unfitness for the
purpose, indirect evidence for Theism. How short a time has passed
since Campbell lamented over--
"The hopeless dark Idolater of Chance;"
and since the authors of "Rejected Addresses" ridiculed a system
which made the universe an accident.[170]--_Now_, chance sounds
as strangely in scientific ears as Fate did to our strong-willed
forefathers. Next, came that unintelligible contradictory phrase, a
"_blind intelligence_;" a thing called a _mind_, that goes it knows
not whither, and moves it knows not why. From this thing, immersed in
the darkest ignorance, and unconscious even of its own existence, we
were asked to believe that arrangement, harmony, excellence, beauty,
were the productions. No wonder if men soon concluded that a moving
force,--material and soulless,--would equally fulfil the same exalted
functions. And, surely, one _thing_ is an account of the Universe as
reasonable and as sufficient as the other.
If we place a non-theistic theory in relation to our human inner
nature, there ensues the same monstrous incongruity. The plenitude of
loveliness, which overflows creation, as it were with multitudinous
waves of light, we are asked to think of as the work of blind
non-being. But, there is a greater plenitude of loveliness, in the
good and noble acts, words, and thoughts of one bright soul of
heaven-aspiring Man. Must we, then, believe that truth, sincerity,
justice, rightness, goodness, purity, are all the offspring of a
something infinitely lower than our weakest human will?[171]--Is that
unknown something to be also the beacon of our hopes, the refuge of
each forlorn and shipwrecked brother, the happiness giving itself to
satisfy the unsatisfied aspirations of our long-enduring hearts?
Surely, the mockery of madness could go no further. What can the
morally impotent or the morally imperfect do for us? Even to the
careless eye of common sense, it is clear at a glance, that with the
_Impersonal_ our distinctive spiritual life can have no possible
relations. If this be so, the very first idea of Supernatural
Power is not advanced.--Contrariwise, it is distorted, frustrated,
nullified. And with it is destroyed our trust in our own conscious
nature. The instinct of immortality lives and moves within us only to
betray.--Man,--whose being is the highest reason for the world's whole
being,--is henceforth a palpable inconsistency. There cannot in the
dreams of fiction be found a stranger tissue of more startling,--or
one might venture to say,--more revolting moral absurdities. And a
moral absurdity contradicts the constitution of Man's mind, quite as
thoroughly as an absurdity purely intellectual. It is, in reality, the
most self-condemned of all conceivable contradictions.
Let us place side by side with this issue, _first_, the commonly
conceived relation between a Personal supreme Being and his
creation;--_secondly_, the apprehension of Theistic truth within the
soul, as it comes to us substantiated by religious men. We shall, at
all events, gain the advantage of a strong contrast between Theism
and non-Theism;--and strong contrast with shadows is often a strong
enlightenment.
First, then, to consider the idea of Creation as the work not of a
blind thing, but a supremely wise and powerful Being. It is plain
that (to say the very least) this idea is encompassed with slighter
and fewer difficulties. If a doubter is not convinced by the ordinary
argument from Design, he cannot avoid admitting the fact of its
possibility;--that it is applicable, and has been applied, argued,
and reargued, without any overwhelming rejoinder or refutation. And
there are _two_ obvious reasons why it has never been successfully
refuted. One--the evident truth that, whatever rival theories[172]
might or might not be expected to do, this theory explains the world.
Next--that no other attempted explanations have ever found a First
ground for any existing thing. In the theory of Design it continues
an open question how far we may conceive the Creator's first act as a
grand finality,--the launch of a vast assemblage of worlds formed,--or,
being formed;--so built upon law and guided by far-stretching wisdom,
that the Universe sails gloriously through the Ocean of Space like
a thing of Life; each breath of Force, each wave of Time wafting it
securely on. But, let any idea of a true creation be admitted, and no
belief in existing laws of any kind, will ever banish the great and
good God from the world which He has created and made. His presence
adds glory to its fabric, and, when we walk in its garden of delights,
we feel that He walks and speaks there too.[173]
The argument from Creation to Creator forms the subject of the next
Chapters. Therefore, we press it no farther here.
The point to be remembered now, is that this line of reasoning has
alone offered a tenable explanation of the world's existence. And a
like remark holds good of Natural Realism as opposed to Speculative
Idealism. It is impossible (as we have seen), to prove or disprove
either by bare argumentative abstractions. But, as a question of
practical reason, the Natural Realist explains the outer world of
individual existences, and his explanation tallies both with its
phenomena and our own relations to them. Our material progress (that
antithesis of oriental quietism), depends upon activities we should
never have exerted had we not fully believed in a world of working
energy within ourselves, and an outside world of reacting forces for us
to work upon.
From mere material progress, let us turn our eyes to the nobler
civilization of Mankind. A respect for human life because it _is_
human,--honour paid to all men, inasmuch as manhood possesses an
intrinsic title to honour,--the desire to do justice and love
mercy,--sympathy with privation, suffering, and aberration, both moral
and intellectual,--these are the true elements that soften and improve
our race. And they are pre-eminently the dowry of nations believing in
Theism. Theism is to these spiritual powers what Realism has been to
material powers. Human beings are, by these two agencies, brought into
contact with both the outer and the inner work of life. And as regards
life's central work, the lesson of history is now what it always has
been. To move man from a lower to a higher sphere, his soul must first
be deeply stirred. And a spiritual stir and movement is the applied
strength of a spiritual power.[ai]
We propose, then, to see by example, what Theism may be to mankind.
Many examples will not be needed, provided those selected are typical.
We shall therefore choose some two or three distinctive types.
The task of selection reminds us to protest, once for all, against the
weak and cynical way of illustrating human nature which threatens to
become prevalent. If we want to see what a true man is, we must not
seek his fossil effigies, by delving into the scanty and disputable
records of primæval savagery,[aj] and unearthing the crumbled seeds
of better things, which died before coming to perfection. It is like
estimating the Oak from a mouldy Acorn. It is worse!--Barbarism tends
to distortion and degeneracy. We might as wisely pronounce a maimed
dwarf with carefully flattened forehead, the beau ideal of human
strength and beauty, as seek to know the mind of man amid its wrecks
and perversities. We must rather look at our race in its strongest and
noblest development. The healthy acorn grows into a spreading oak;--the
truly human child becomes, not a crooked dwarf, but an upright
intellectual giant. The investigation of maimed deformities may have
its interest for comparative purposes, but no ancient Greek nor Hebrew,
no modern European nor American, ought to be painted with lineaments
which are revolting to his higher nature. Let us help the savage by
every means we can, _except_ by asking him to sit for a _model of
Humanity_. When we do this, we have assuredly lost our very best reason
for helping him at all.
The examples following, no one will doubt to be types of true and
highly developed men. The first, is intended to shew how Theism
stands out before the apprehension of a Man engaged in searching out
_abstract_ truth.
The Philosophy of Sir W. Hamilton has become familiar to most people,
so far as his theory of "the Conditioned" is concerned. They are
aware that his mind dwelt on the speculative difficulties surrounding
a knowledge of the Absolute, the self-subsisting First Cause, and
true Ground of all things. Yet, to the veracity of God he appeals
for the veraciousness of our primary beliefs. Over against a whole
school of Idealists, he places, as the one fatal objection, this
same veracity--"Either maintaining the veracity of God, they must
surrender their hypothesis;--or, maintaining their hypothesis, they
must surrender the veracity of God."[174] And, if the existence of a
Deity is known, there can be no doubt that His truth is amongst the
highest and clearest _to us_, of all His essential attributes. We
cannot (as Sir William says) "suppose that we are created capable of
intelligence, in order to be made the victims of delusion; that God
is a deceiver, and the root of our nature a lie."[175] Therefore, he
drew a wide distinction between, on the one hand, knowing the Absolute
and the Supreme so as to examine and explain His nature, and, on the
other hand, believing that He truly is, so as to affirm the fact of His
being, and the necessary consequences of His existence. "When I deny,"
he writes, "that the Infinite can by us be _known_, I am far from
denying that by us it is, must, and ought to be, _believed_!"[176]--In
this belief, Sir William saw a sufficient reason for accepting, as
Mr. Mill advises all to accept, "the inexplicable fact." And indeed
the problem of truth perpetually does come, (evade the conclusion as
we will), in one shape or another, to this same necessity of final
acceptance. Mr. Coleridge's _Friend_ is one long investigation into
this necessity, and he fairly closes his argument by saying that
always,--start from whatever point we may,--"reason will find a chasm,
which the moral being only, which the spirit and religion of man alone
can fill up."[177]
3 For Sir W. Hamilton, Theism bridged the vast abyss! No one could
more strongly estimate its vastness, and the poverty of our visual
powers when we stand beside it;--the dim feeling which makes us shrink
back from its awful verge. But Theism became to him the strength of
a noble life;--a life of much self-sacrifice, and meagre earthly
recompense.[ak]
The next typical thinker we shall quote is one pre-eminent for his
careful study of the constitution of _Man_, the course, the aims,
and aptitudes of his _moral_ existence. It seems hardly necessary
to add the name of Bishop Butler. The reader will find pleasure and
instruction, if he peruses Butler's two sermons on the Love of God,
from the second of which the following passages are cited:--
"Nothing is more certain, than that an infinite Being may himself be,
if he pleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature. All the
common enjoyments of life are from the faculties he hath endued us
with, and the objects he hath made suitable to them. He may himself
be to us infinitely more than all these: he may be to us all that we
want. As our understanding can contemplate itself, and our affections
be exercised upon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed
in the same manner upon any other mind; and since the supreme Mind,
the Author and Cause of all things, is the highest possible object
to himself, he may be an adequate supply to all the faculties of our
souls; a subject to our understanding, and an object to our affections.
"Consider then: when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we
shall be divested of sensual appetites, and those possessions which
are now the means of gratification shall be of no avail; when this
restless scene of business and vain pleasures, which now diverts us
from ourselves, shall be all over; we, our proper self, shall still
remain; we shall still continue the same creatures we are, with wants
to be supplied, and capacities of happiness. We must have faculties of
perception, though not sensitive ones; and pleasure or uneasiness from
our perceptions, as now we have.
"There are certain ideas, which we express by the words, order,
harmony, proportion, beauty, the furthest removed from anything
sensual. Now, what is there in those intellectual images, forms, or
ideas, which begets that approbation, love, delight, and even rapture,
which is seen in some persons' faces upon having those objects present
to their minds?--'Mere enthusiasm!'--Be it what it will: there are
objects, works of nature and of art, which all mankind have delight
from, quite distinct from their affording gratification to sensual
appetites; and from quite another view of them, than as being for
their interest and further advantage. The faculties from which we
are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures themselves, are as
natural, and as much to be accounted for, as any sensual appetite
whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification. Words to be sure
are wanting upon this subject: to say, that everything of grace and
beauty throughout the whole of nature, everything excellent and
amiable shared in differently lower degrees by the whole creation,
meet in the Author and Cause of all things; this is an inadequate
and perhaps improper way of speaking of the divine nature; but it is
manifest that absolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in
all senses, and in every respect, the highest object to the mind....
".... Now, as our capacities of perception improve, we shall have,
perhaps by some faculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence
with us in a nearer and stricter way; since it is certain he is
more intimately present with us than anything else can be. Proof of
the existence and presence of any being is quite different from the
immediate perception, the consciousness of it. What then will be the
joy of heart, which his presence, and _the light of his countenance_,
who is the life of the universe, will inspire good men with, when they
shall have a sensation, that he is the sustainer of their being, that
they exist in him; when they shall feel his influence to cheer and
enliven and support their frame, in a manner of which we have now no
conception? He will be in a literal sense _their strength and their
portion for ever_."[178]
Of the last writer here adduced, it is needless to say more than that
amongst living authors, he is rarely equalled in his subtle analysis of
the _tender and emotional side of humanity_.
"The personal relation sought, is discerned and felt. The Soul
understands and knows that God is _her_ God; dwelling with her more
closely than any creature can; yea, neither Stars, nor Sea, nor
smiling Nature hold God so intimately as the bosom of the Soul. What
is He to it? what, but the Soul of the soul? It no longer seems
profane to say, 'God is my bosom friend: God is for me, and I am for
Him.' So Joy bursts out into Praise, and all things look brilliant;
and hardship seems easy, and duty becomes delight, and contempt is not
felt, and every morsel of bread is sweet....
".... But Oh philosopher, is all this a contemptible dream? thou canst
explain it all? or thou scornest it all? Whatever _theory_ thou may'st
form concerning it, it is not the less a fact of human nature: one of
some age too: for David thirsted after God and exceedingly rejoiced
in Him, and so did Paul; and the feelings which they describe are
reproduced in the present day. To despise wide-spread enduring facts
is _not_ philosophic; and when they conduce to power of goodness and
inward happiness, it might be wise to learn the phenomena by personal
experience, _before_ theorizing about them. It was not a proud thing
of Paul to say, but a simple truth, that the spiritual cannot be
judged by the unspiritual.
"The single thought, 'God is for my soul, and my soul is for Him,'
suffices to fill a universe of feeling, and gives rise to a hundred
metaphors. Spiritual persons have exhausted human relationships in the
vain attempt to express their full feeling of what God (or Christ)
is to them. Father, Brother, Friend, King, Master, Shepherd, Guide,
are common titles. In other figures, God is their Tower, their Glory,
their Rock, their Shield, their Sun, their Star, their Joy, their
Portion, their Hope, their Trust, their Life."[179]
Such is Theism, penetrating the head and heart of Man; appealing to his
intellect, his conscience, and his affections. Such is Theism; sending
upwards, out of Man's spirit, aspirations which "dumb driven cattle"
cannot breathe--often the sole sweet incense from Earth to Heaven. It
is possible that, to some readers, the passages extracted will sound
like the accents of a foreign tongue. Of such it may properly be asked,
whether any man has a right _so_ to call in question another sane man's
honest consciousness, _as_ to deny its reality, worth, and excellence?
There are ears on which the music of Shakespeare's words, or Mozart's
notes, fall tuneless and unmeaning. Yet, who on that account would
deny the true sense and delight of poetry, rhythm, and melody? We
cannot, in reason, forget that even from ordinary men a small amount
of affirmation, if conscientious, unselfish, and collected, outweighs
and annihilates a host of perplexing doubts. But, every great Man's
thought is at least a grand fact; every expression of it a benefaction
to his fellow-men. And, as respects the mighty power with which Theism
stirs and impels the soul, we may rest absolutely assured that, where
one human being is found to give it utterance, thousands have felt the
movement, and have silently governed their life's work by it. Happily,
the brightest gifts of our existence are also the commonest;--the
sunshine of the world, and the sunshine of the Soul.
Countless numbers have, indeed, professed to discern by an inward sense
the reflected reality of a Supreme Being. They who feel it most deeply,
do not attempt to explain the Substance of which an imperfect copy
exists within themselves, acknowledged, yet inexplicable; at once the
greatest enigma, and the noblest fact of their essential being. They
are content to look upwards to the Supreme Mind they have found;--to
treasure such knowledge as they have; and adore its object. Many of
those who have thus believed and acted are amongst the most excellent
and perfect of our race.
Has any theory of the Universe which ignores the original of an image
discovered within ourselves, accounted for what we perceive through our
senses, our consciousness, and our moral insight,--so well as _that_
theory which acknowledges and reverences a God?
FOOTNOTES:
[ac] "In vain," says Hume's Cleanthes, "In vain would the sceptic make
a distinction between science and common life, or between one science
and another. The arguments, employed in all, if just, are of a similar
nature, and contain the same force and evidence. Or if there be any
difference among them, the advantage lies entirely on the side of
theology and natural religion."--_Dialogues, etc._, Part I. sub. fin.
And our ultimate appeal--as for example concerning the subject next
discussed in this chapter--is, he observes, to an instinctive operation
of the mind which obliges us to accept and act upon what we cannot
explain. Writing in his own person, Mr. Hume observes, "As nature has
taught us the use of our limbs, without giving us the knowledge of the
muscles and nerves by which they are actuated, so has she implanted in
us an instinct, which carries forward the thought in a correspondent
course to that which she has established among external objects; though
we are ignorant of those powers and forces on which this regular course
and succession of objects totally depends."--_Inquiry concerning the
Human Understanding._ Section V., end. Compare footnote [d]. to this
chapter, p. 269 _post_.
[ad] The word Belief has been used in a variety of senses by modern
writers of differing views from Jacobi to Sir. W. Hamilton, from Dr.
Newman to Mr. Herbert Spencer.
"This word," Mr. Spencer says, "is habitually applied to dicta of
consciousness for which no proof can be assigned: both those which
are unprovable because they underlie all proof, and those which
are unprovable because of the absence of evidence." And again; "we
commonly say we 'believe' a thing for which we can assign some
preponderating evidence, or concerning which we have received some
indefinable impression.... And it is the peculiarity of these beliefs,
as contrasted with cognitions, that their connexions with antecedent
states of consciousness may be easily severed, instead of being
difficult to sever. But unhappily, the word 'belief' is also applied
to each of those temporarily or permanently indissoluble connexions in
consciousness, for the acceptance of which the only warrant is that it
cannot be got rid of.... Thus the two opposite poles of knowledge go
under the same name; and by the reverse connotations of this name, as
used for the most coherent and least coherent relations of thought,
profound misconceptions have been generated."
Mr. Spencer made these remarks at separate intervals of time, and has
repeated them in 1874 (_Essays_, III. 259-60). It would therefore
appear that he thinks little has recently been done to discriminate the
significations of so ambiguous a term.
This chapter endeavours to investigate a small number of the genus
"Beliefs" to which the _differentia_ "Of Reason" has been added by way
of distinction. It also attempts to offer a contribution towards the
useful work of explaining their specific validity, and if its argument
be correct, they constitute a very important definable species of the
Genus, carrying with them a persuasion pre-eminently their own.
On his page 260, last referred to, Mr. Spencer remarks,--"that the
belief which the moral and religious feelings are said to yield of a
personal God, is not one of the beliefs which are unprovable because
they underlie all proof"--and adds that works on Natural Theology treat
that Belief as _inferential_.
The view taken of this moral and religious belief in the present Essay,
is that it is in its own nature _both_ primary and inferential. The
former of these aspects is the one now under discussion.
[154] Compare Fowler's Inductive Logic, p. 29. [Since the reference was
made, Mr. Fowler has become Professor of Logic in the University of
Oxford.]
[155] Mr. Fowler, in the little volume just referred to, describes
another "Theory of the Origin of Universal Beliefs," as follows:--"It
would admit that all beliefs alike are ultimately derived from
experience, and still it would freely adopt the language that there
are some beliefs which are 'native to the human mind.' The word
'experience' as ordinarily employed by psychologists, includes not
only the experience of the individual, but the recorded experience of
mankind. On the theory, however, of which we are now speaking, it has
a still more extended meaning; it includes experience, or to speak
more strictly, a peculiar facility for forming certain experiences,
_transmitted_ by hereditary descent from generation to generation.
While some ideas occur only to particular individuals, at particular
times, there are others which, from the frequency and constancy with
which they are obtruded upon men's minds at all times and under
all circumstances, become, after an accumulated experience of many
generations, _connatural_, as it were, to the human mind. We assume
them, often unconsciously, in our special perceptions, and when the
propositions, which embody them, are propounded to us, we find it
impossible, on reflection, to doubt their truth. It is by personal
experience of external objects and their relations that each man
recognises them, but the _tendency_ to recognise them is transmitted,
like the physical or mental peculiarities of race, from preceding
generations, and is anterior to any special experience whatever on
the part of the individual. This theory, to which much of modern
speculation appears to be converging, is advocated with great ability
in the works of Mr. Herbert Spencer." _Inductive Logic_, p. 31.
This account of our Belief in the Inductive Principle agrees, in
effect, with the opinion of those who hold that our acceptance of its
truth resembles our acceptance of Mathematical Truths in _two_ very
important respects: (1) Its _Certitude_. To use Dr. Whewell's words;
"We are as certain of it as of the truths of arithmetic and geometry.
We cannot doubt that it must apply to all events past and future, in
every part of the universe, just as truly as to those occurrences which
we have ourselves observed. _What_ causes produce what effects;--what
is the cause of any particular event;--what will be the effect of any
peculiar process;--these are points on which experience may enlighten
us. Observation and experience may be requisite, to enable us to
judge respecting such matters. But that every event has _some_ cause,
Experience cannot prove any more than she can disprove. She can add
nothing to the evidence of the truth, however often she may exemplify
it. This doctrine, then, cannot have been acquired by her teaching,"
Whewell's _Hist. of Scientific Ideas_, B. III. Cap. ii.
(2) In the fact of its being _intuitive_; that is, as Mr. Fowler says,
"connatural," or "native to the human mind."
Whether we can trace the process through which it became one of the
mental possessions characteristic of Mankind is a further question, and
a very curious one. The subjects of improvement by education, and of
the transmission of improvements thus acquired among men and the lower
animals, belong in part to our next Chapter;--they are, of course,
deeply interesting to every philanthropist, every promoter of true
progress and wholesome civilization.
[156] Galen remarks upon the immediate activity of animal instinct
prior to example or habituation. Most Naturalists know his experiment
of hatching three different sorts of eggs together. He was much struck
to see the young aquatic bird, reptile, and eaglet, betake themselves
at once, each to his vocation. Some persons referred these instincts
to the influence of organs fitted for definite uses, yet, observes
Galen, the young calf will butt before he has got horns. A good deal
might be added to Galen's rejoinder. Animals seem often to work without
fitness of organization,--or one might almost say in defiance of their
organs. "There is nothing," says Sir C. Bell, "in the configuration
of the black bear, particularly adapted for his catching fish; yet he
will sit, on his hinder extremities, by the side of a stream, morning
or evening, on the watch, like a practised fisher, and so perfectly
motionless as to deceive the eye of the Indian, who mistakes him for
the burnt trunk of a tree; when he sees his opportunity favourable,
he will thrust out his fore-paw, and seize a fish with incredible
celerity. The exterior organ is not, in this instance, the cause of the
habit or of the propensity; and if we thus see the instinct bestowed
without the appropriate organ, may we not the more readily believe,
in other examples, when the two are conjoined, that the habit exists
with the instrument, although not through it?" (_Bridgewater Treatise_,
Chap. x. p. 250.)--In Captain Cook's third voyage there is another
anecdote of bears equally curious. "The wild deer (barein) are far
too swift for those lumbering sportsmen; so the bear perceives them
at a distance by the scent; and, as they herd in low grounds, when he
approaches them, he gets upon the adjoining eminence, from whence he
rolls down pieces of rock; nor does he quit his ambush, and pursue,
until he finds that some have been maimed." (Vol. 3, p. 306.)
In such cases as these, there is a manifest want of correspondence
between animal organisms and animal instincts, which many naturalists
consider essentially interdependent. Yet on their mutual action and
reaction some have founded a theory of evolution.
[157] "We have in the Veda the invocation _Dya[=u]s pítar_, the Greek
[Greek: Zeu pater], the Latin _Jupiter_; and that means in all the
three languages what it meant before these three languages were torn
asunder--it means Heaven-Father. These two words are not mere words;
they are to my mind the oldest poem, the oldest prayer of mankind,
or at least of that pure branch of it to which we belong--and I am
as firmly convinced that this prayer was uttered, that this name was
given to the unknown God before Sanskrit was Sanskrit, and Greek was
Greek, as when I see the Lord's Prayer in the languages of Polynesia
and Melanesia, I feel certain that it was first uttered in the language
of Jerusalem." Professor Max Müller's _Science of Religion_. New Ed. p.
172.
[158] This then would seem to be an instance of wide spread "moral
regression."
[ae] Our deep-rooted tendency to trust human testimony may yield a
very curious example of the difficulties presented by the whole class
of pre-rational beliefs. Mr. J. Mill in accordance with his system of
foregone Associations "resolves" this case as follows (_Analysis_ I.
p. 385-6): "Belief in testimony is but a case of the anticipation of
the future from the past; and belief in the uniformity of the laws
of nature is but another name for the same thing.... The testimony
uniformly calls up the idea of the reality of the event, so closely,
that I cannot disjoin them. But the idea, irresistibly forced upon me,
of a real event, is Belief."
On this explanation Mr. Bain remarks, "The belief in Testimony is
derived from the primary credulity of the mind, in certain instances
left intact under the wear and tear of adverse experience. Hardly
any fact of the human mind is better attested than the primitive
disposition to receive all testimony with unflinching credence. It
never occurs to the child to question any statement made to it, until
some positive force on the side of scepticism has been developed.
Gradually we find that certain testimonies are inconsistent with fact;
we have, therefore, to go through a long education in discriminating
the good testimonies from the bad. To the one class, we adhere with the
primitive force of conviction that in the other class has been shaken
and worn away by the shocks of repeated contradictions."
It seems quite possible that our "primary credulity" may be one example
of a wider spread feeling of reliance engendered in part by affection
and dependence. Its force varies considerably in various minds. Women
whose lives have been happy and free from disappointment retain much
of this primary intuitive belief to the end of their days. Among men,
the trust in Testimony becomes controlled by their power of balancing
probabilities; a faculty in which the very credulous and also the very
sceptical are often observed to be deficient. The disappointed of both
sexes proverbially incline to Scepticism.
[159] _Metaph._ I. 44.
[160] Acts xvii. 27, 28. Romans i. 32; ii. 14 seq.
[161] Most persons have read with delight the observations on Insect
Architecture from Huber downwards. Birds are generally well watched
and well reported. Many Naturalists have written on these subjects,
from a hope of creating in the minds of men some softer interest for
their humble companions. Mr. Jesse naïvely prefaces a collection of
anecdotes, by saying that, of all the nations in Europe, our own
countrymen are perhaps the least inclined to treat the brute creation
with tenderness.
Wilson long ago observed that the nest building of birds was not always
the same in the same species. The older birds built the better nests.
M. Pouchet of Rouen proved that when the new streets of that city were
erected, the window-swallows altered their nests and substantially
improved them. A short account of his observations will be found in
Wallace's _Contributions_, 228 A. Mr. Wallace adds several instances of
bad nest building, especially by pigeons, rooks, and window-swallows, a
circumstance also noticed by White of Selborne.
Amongst the most remarkable bird-families with special ideas of
construction, are the mound-builders, and bower birds of Australia,
described by Mr. Gould. The former hatch their eggs in hillocks
contrived to retain during the night, amid their warm vegetable
linings, the solar heat of each successive day. The nests of one family
are about a yard high and three wide. In another family, mounds of
five yards in height and twelve in girth seem not uncommon; and the
circumference of one mound in particular measured full fifty yards.
These larger mounds are the work of many birds, through many years, and
their firm sides are covered by ancient forest growth.
The bower birds construct over-arching alleys of curved branches,
decorated with pretty grasses, gay feathers, shells and bones,
particularly near the entrances. These bowers seem to be used as
meeting and recreation places for both sexes. They vary to some extent
amongst the different species of this singular tribe.
There can be no doubt of the power of adaptation among animals;--and
those who study them most are least surprised at its extent. Horses
will learn to go up and down stairs, cats to undo door latches; and
one pony mentioned by Jesse used to unfasten the stable door, open and
rob the corn chest. Still more curious, is the American bird called
_neuntödter_, which catches grasshoppers and spears them upon twigs,
not for the shamble-purposes of the butcher bird, but simply as baits
to catch and eat the smaller birds attracted by the spoil.
Schleiden (_Plant_ 232), tells a most singular story of a Kangaroo who
tried to drown his pursuer, and shewed considerable craft in the way
he set about the drowning. After knocking the hunter backwards into a
pond, the "old man" (Australian for Kangaroo) kept pushing the poor
fellow's head under water every time he raised it up. If Kangaroo had
never drowned a human being before, he must have proceeded by analogy,
and argued, as some Naturalists do, from the brute to the man. A dog,
mentioned by Jesse, endeavoured to save his drowning master's life
by the reverse process to Kangaroo's, and would not let the beloved
head disappear under water for many a wintry hour after life had been
extinguished. (_Country Life_, p. 119.)
A person reflecting on these and similar facts, does not feel much
surprised at Aristotle's appreciation of animal intelligence, (_e.
g._, _Historiæ_ viii. 1, 2,) "[Greek: hôs gar en anthrôpô technê kai
sophia kai synesis, houtôs eniois tôn zôôn esti tis hetera toiautê
physikê dynamis.]" The animal power of adaptation, travelling beyond
the routine of instinctive action, probably struck the philosopher very
strongly.
[162] These barricades are curiously galleried and casemated, like
the defences of a fortress. The best account of them is given by the
accurate and interesting Huber.
[163] In Aristotle's Introduction to Physical Science, he remarks that
Sense grasps at Wholes, so that in a certain way, the general may seem
to take precedence with us of the particular. Language is a proof of
this--Children's talk is apt to run in concretes;--every man or woman
is a father or mother to them. See _Phys. Ausc._ I. 1, with Pacius'
note. The old commentator unties a knot which some moderns appear to
have tied fast again.
_Addition._ Aristotle's illustration, it is alleged (_e. g._ by Dr.
Whewell), goes in the wrong direction; fathers and mothers are less
comprehensive terms than men and women; the truth seems to be that
children fail to perceive the differences between parents and other
human beings;--therefore they call men and women, parents. Pacius
says:--"Nunc igitur totum esse nobis notius, probat à signo, id est,
argumento sumto ab infantibus, qui initiò non distinguunt patrem ab
aliis viris, nec matrem ab aliis mulieribus: postea verò distinguunt:
nempe, quia ab initio habuerunt cognitionem magis confusam, neque
cognoverunt proprietates parentis, sed tantum eum noverunt sub ratione
universali, quatenus est homo, ideoque non potuerunt eum ab aliis
hominibus sejungere. Postea verò progredientes ad cognitionem magis
particularem, possunt patrem ab aliis discernere." Ed. 1608, p. 346.
[af] It is quite conceivable that the presence of Reason may from its
first dawn, give rise to a very wide difference between the highest
animal instincts, and the lowest instinctive impulses of Man. The
discussion would be far too extensive for these pages; but it is
obvious that such a difference might clearly account for much that is
obscure in the twilight territory of Mind.
Hume, however, appears to have thought otherwise, as may be perceived
in the Conclusion of his _Reason of Animals_. From his mention of
"experimental reasoning" and the instances adduced, he would seem to
attribute our Inductive process to a _simple_ instinct. He writes
thus:--"Though animals learn many parts of their knowledge from
observation, there are also many parts of it which they derive from
the original hand of Nature, which much exceed the share of capacity
they possess on ordinary occasions, and in which they improve
little or nothing, by the longest practice and experience. These we
denominate INSTINCTS, and are so apt to admire as something
very extraordinary and inexplicable by all the disquisitions of human
understanding. But our wonder will perhaps cease or diminish when we
consider that the experimental reasoning itself, which we possess in
common with beasts, and on which the whole conduct of life depends, is
nothing but a species of instinct or mechanical power, that acts in us
unknown to ourselves, and in its chief operations is not directed by
any such relations or comparison of ideas as are the proper objects of
our intellectual faculties. Though the instinct be different, yet still
it is an instinct, which teaches a man to avoid the fire, as much as
that which teaches a bird, with such exactness, the art of incubation,
and the whole economy and order of its nursery." Compare foot-note (a)
to this chapter, p. 255 _ante_.
[ag] "Wisdom is Alchemy. Else it could not be Wisdom. This is its
unfailing characteristic, that it 'finds good in everything,' that it
renders all things more precious. In this respect also does it renew
the spirit of childhood within us: while foolishness hardens our hearts
and narrows our thoughts, it makes us feel a childlike curiosity and
a childlike interest about all things. When our view is confined to
ourselves, nothing is of value, except what ministers in one way or
other to our own personal gratification: but in proportion as it
widens, our sympathies increase and multiply: and when we have learnt
to look on all things as God's works, then, as His works, they are all
endeared to us.
"Hence nothing can be further from true wisdom, than the mask of it
assumed by men of the world, who affect a cold indifference about
whatever does not belong to their own immediate circle of interests or
pleasures." _Guesses at Truth_, 2nd Ed. 2nd Series, p. 200.
[164] "Try to conceive a man without the ideas of God, eternity,
freedom, will, absolute truth, of the good, the true, the beautiful,
the infinite. An animal endowed with a memory of appearances and of
facts might remain. But the man will have vanished, and you have
instead a creature, _more subtle than any beast of the field_, but
likewise _cursed above every beast of the field; upon the belly must it
go, and dust must it eat all the days of its life_. But I recal myself
from a train of thoughts little likely to find favour in this age of
sense and selfishness." Coleridge, _Church and State_. Note p. 50, Ed.
1839.
[165] Some people we may remark are unable to see any difference
between sentiments and sentimentalities.
[166] It was by a reverse procedure that Kant shewed his greatness. He
kept the two fields of thought apart, and applied to each a criticism
unsparing, but appropriate. Nothing could be more decisive than the
result, though darkened in some degree by the critic's peculiar
technicalities. Moral truth was placed upon the most sublime of
elevations. Speculative reason could never rise beyond the limits of
conditioned truth; any attempt to extend its sphere issued in antinomy
or blank negation. It left the human mind apparently oscillating
between Idealism and limited Insight. But to this must be added a most
important point too commonly forgotten. Though Speculative reason does
not demonstrably prove, it renders _conceivable_ by us those highest
of all Ideas which our Practical reason shews to be necessarily and
unquestionably _certain_ for every one of us. Moral Truth thus opens
to Man's eye a clear vista into the Timeless and the Absolute, to an
immortal life beyond the grave, and to God the Sovereign both of Nature
and of Man. It tells us the secret of true Causation, and with it of
all that is most worth living for, the intrinsically greatest and Best
of Humanity. And it binds every human being, as by golden links, to
that ever present Divine throne, the shrine and oracle set up within
his own breast. We ought always to remember that upon those grand
truths which if practically certain cannot be ultimately false, Kant
staked his all. They were the crown alike of his labours and his life.
_Addition._--By these remarks the present writer does not intend
subscribing to all the Kantian conclusions respecting pure Speculative
Reason, much less to those that have been asserted by many of Kant's
disciples. Difference of opinion on such conclusions cannot, however,
effect an honest appreciation of the clear and elevated principles
maintained by Kant on the subject of independent Morality, as
contradistinguished from the scheme which used to be termed Selfish,
but is now commonly called Utilitarian.--See pp. 93-6 _ante_.
[ah] "Thousands of years it may be before Homer and the Veda ... Dyaus
did not mean the blue sky, nor was it simply the sky personified; it
was meant for something else.... We shall have to learn the same lesson
again and again in the Science of Religion, viz. that the place whereon
we stand is holy ground. Thousands of years have passed since the Aryan
nations separated to travel to the North and the South, the West and
the East: they have each formed their languages, they have each founded
empires and philosophies, they have each built temples and razed them
to the ground; they have all grown older, and it may be wiser and
better; but when they search for a name for what is most exalted and
yet most dear to every one of us, when they wish to express both awe
and love, the infinite and the finite, they can but do what their old
fathers did when gazing up to the eternal sky, and feeling the presence
of a Being as far as far and as near as near can be: they can but
combine the self-same words, and utter once more the primeval Aryan
prayer, Heaven-Father, in that form which will endure for ever, 'Our
Father which art in Heaven.'"--Max Müller, _Lectures on the Science of
Religion_, pp. 171-2, 3.
[167] Compare the Indian phrase "the magical illusions of reality, the
so-called Mâyâ of creation." Max Müller's _Sanskrit Literature_, p. 19.
Also Ritter's _Gesch. der Philosophie_, I. 101 seq., and the account in
both of the philosophy of Quietism. The attractive side of it is given
by Max Müller, pp. 18, 19, and 29. The National results are elegantly
painted, pp. 30, 31. He concludes: "It might therefore be justly said
that India has no place in the political history of the world.... India
has moved in such a small and degraded circle of political existence
that it remained almost invisible to the eyes of other nations."
Few feelings are more deeply rooted, as in our individual, so in our
collective human nature, than this same conclusion. Quietism culminates
when Action appears useless because of a conceived Necessity or
Unreality of Nature:--"Life is but a Dream--Let all sit still and fold
their hands to slumber."
[168] Speculatively considered, what can the weapon commonly called
argument do against Idealism? Both sides allow that man can neither
cause nor annihilate sensible impressions. But they are supposably
ideal phrases of susceptibility, which may be explained in more ways
than one. On the inability of most men--(particularly Scotchmen,)
to comprehend Berkeley's position, see _Fraser's Ed._, IV. 366, 7,
8, note. It gave rise to notably absurd rejoinders: "With the witty
Voltaire ten thousand cannon balls, and ten thousand dead men, were
ten thousand ideas, according to Berkeley. There is as much subtlety
of thought, and more humour, in the Irish story of Berkeley's visit to
Swift on a rainy day, when, by the Dean's orders, he was left to stand
before the unopened door, because, if his philosophy was true, he could
as easily enter with the door shut as open."
[169] "We cannot possibly identify the perception of _expanded colour_,
which is all that originally constitutes seeing, with the perception of
_felt resistance_, which is all that originally constitutes touching.
Coloured extension is antithetical to felt extension. In fact, we do
not see, we never saw, and we never can see the orange of mere touch;
we do not touch, we never touched, and we never can touch the orange of
mere sight." _Ibid._ p. 394.
[170]
"From floating elements in chaos hurl'd,
Self-form'd of atoms, sprang the infant world:
No great _First Cause_ inspired the happy plot,
But all was matter--and no matter what.
Atoms, attracted by some law occult,
Settling in spheres, the globe was the result:
Pure child of _Chance_, which still directs the ball,
As rotatory atoms rise or fall.
In ether launch'd, the peopled bubble floats,
A mass of particles, and confluent motes,
"So nicely poised, that if one atom flings
Its weight away, aloft the planet springs,
And wings its course through realms of boundless space,
Outstripping comets in eccentric race.
Add but one atom more, it sinks outright
Down to the realms of Tartarus and night."
"_Rejected Addresses_," pp. 115, 116.
[171] "What are the core and essence of this hypothesis? Strip it naked
and you stand face to face with the notion that not alone the more
ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not alone the nobler forms
of the horse and lion, not alone the exquisite and wonderful mechanism
of the human body, but that the human mind itself--emotion, intellect,
will, and all their phenomena--were once latent in a fiery cloud.
Surely the mere statement of such a notion is more than a refutation."
Tyndall, _Fragments of Science_, p. 163.
[172] Mr. Mill speaks thus of the Design argument. "It is the best; and
besides, it is by far the most persuasive. It would be difficult to
find a stronger argument in favour of Theism, than that the eye must
have been made by one who sees, and the ear by one who hears." Mill _On
Hamilton_, p. 551.
[173] So in Thomson's Hymn:--
"Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart, is joy."
[ai] "The idea of God, beyond all question or comparison, is the one
great seminal principle; inasmuch as it combines and comprehends all
the faculties of our nature, converging in it as their common centre;
brings the reason to sanction the aspirations of the imagination;
impregnates law with the vitality and attractiveness of the affections;
and establishes the natural legitimate subordination of the body to
the will, and of both to the _vis logica_ or reason, by involving
the necessary and entire dependence of the created on the creator."
_Guesses at Truth._ 1st Ed., pp. 122, 3.
[aj] Perhaps every cynic delighting in those records should be asked to
define what he means by Savagery. Of savages there are evidently many
sorts, _e. g._:--
(1) The children of our race;--a condition not beautiful, yet not
without hope.
(2) Semi-civilized tribes, generally addicted to "fire-water" and other
vices of civilization, without possession of its better things.
(3) Barbarian princedoms, grown decrepit by reason of wars, caste
domination, or a sensual and effete culture.
(4) There are also a few wholly uncultured folk, who are more of
gentlemen and ladies than our highly civilized peoples;--more truthful,
honourable, and courteous;--while,
(5) Not a few are savages indeed!
These strictures serve as a reminder to add that by Theism is here
intended the belief in a Supreme Being, the Father of Spirits, to Whom
we shall give solemn account. But it is _not_ meant to include some
civilized superstitions, by means of which many men degrade and torment
their fellows. Of such men we say, They too are savages indeed!
[174] _Reid's Works_, p. 751.
[175] _Reid's Works_, p. 743.
[176] _Metaph._ II. p. 530.
[177] _The Friend_, vol iii. p. 214. Ed. 1844.
[ak] The portrait of a lonely thinker searching out God has been
painted in lively colours, as follows:--"O my friend, you would do me
most grievous wrong, if you thought my heart empty of those feelings
which make man the standing miracle of Nature. If your child fell into
the river, would you stop to tell or think how you loved it, how dear
and winsome and precious it was to you, how blank your home and bruised
your heart would be without it? Or would you plunge into the stream in
utter recklessness of your life, bear it swiftly out of the devouring
flood, and then in silence strain the rescued little one to your bosom?
Characters differ. It is mine to act, as well as to feel. What, do you
imagine, prompts a thinker to give his days and nights to the rescue of
man's faith in God, his heart-trust and moral inspiration and spiritual
joy, when all these are put in jeopardy by the increase of a knowledge
that is but half comprehended, even by those who in their own special
lines are nobly increasing it? What lies back of the intense activity
of his brain, as he toils over problems that wring the beads from his
brow, gives up to the lonely pursuit of truth the hours that might be
fertile of the prizes clutched after by the crowd, and turns his back
on prizes that even he holds dear? What but a mighty hunger for God
can explain this weary, unending search for Him? What else can explain
the unthanked effort to make plain a path to Him that no man wants to
travel?" American _Index_, Jan. 15, 1874.
[178] Butler's Sermons, p. 184 seq.
[179] _The Soul, her Sorrows and her Aspirations_, pp. 103, 104.
CHAPTER V.
PRODUCTION AND ITS LAW.
"[Greek: Polla ta deina, kouden anthrôpou deinoteron pelei.]"
Sophocles, _Antigone_.
"These be the two parts of natural philosophy,--the inquisition of
causes, and the production of effects; speculative, and operative;
natural science, and natural prudence." Bacon's _Advancement of
Learning_. Book II.
"The perception of real affinities between events (that is to say, of
_ideal_ affinities, for those only are real), enables the poet to make
free with the most imposing forms and phenomena of the world, and to
assert the predominance of the soul.
"Whilst thus the poet animates nature with his own thoughts, he
differs from the philosopher only herein, that the one proposes Beauty
as his main end; the other Truth," Emerson. _Idealism._
"The question of questions for mankind--the problem which underlies
all others, and is more deeply interesting than any other--is the
ascertainment of the place which Man occupies in nature and of his
relations to the universe of things. Whence our race has come; what
are the limits of our power over nature, and of nature's power over
us; to what goal we are tending; are the problems which present
themselves anew and with undiminished interest to every man born into
the world." Huxley. _Man's Place in Nature_, p. 57.
"Der Mensch ist das einzige Geschöpf, das erzogen werden muss.
Unter der Erziehung nämlich verstehen wir die Wartung (Verpflegung,
Unterhaltung), Disciplin (Zucht) und Unterweisung nebst der Bildung.
Dem zufolge ist der Mensch Säugling,--Zögling--und Lehrling." Kant.
_Pädagogik_, Einleitung.
"Man's Intellectual Progress consists in the Idealization of Facts,
and man's Moral Progress consists in the Realization of Ideas."
Whewell's _Moral Philosophy, Additional Lectures_, p. 129.
"Say! when the world was new and fresh from the hand of its Maker,
Ere the first modelled frame thrilled with the tremors of life,...
.... Forms of transcendent might--Beauty with Majesty joined, None to
behold, and none to enjoy, and none to interpret? Say! was the WORK
wrought out! Say was the GLORY complete? What could reflect, though
dimly and faint, the INEFFABLE PURPOSE Which from chaotic powers,
Order and Harmony drew? What but the reasoning spirit, the thought and
the faith and the feeling? What, but the grateful sense, conscious of
love and design? Man sprang forth at the final behest. His intelligent
worship Filled up the void that was left. Nature at length had a Soul."
Sir J. Herschel. _Essays, etc._, p. 737.
"Wär ein verständiger Sinn auch mir doch beschieden gewesen! Aber es
täuschte mich trügrischer Pfad, hieher mich, dann dorthin Lockend. Nun
bin ich bejahrt und doch unbefriedigt von allem Forschen. Denn wo ich
den Geist hinwende, da löst sich mir alles Auf in Eins und Dasselbe:
da alles Seyende, allzeit Allwärts angezogen, in ähnliche, eine Natur
tritt."
Jacobi. _Werke, Vorrede zu David Hume_, p. 103.
"Throughout all future time, as now, the human mind may occupy itself,
not only with ascertained phenomena and their relations, but also
with that unascertained something which phenomena and their relations
imply. Hence if knowledge cannot monopolize consciousness--if it
must always continue possible for the mind to dwell upon that which
transcends knowledge; then there can never cease to be a place for
something of the nature of Religion; since Religion under all its
forms is distinguished from everything else in this, that its subject
matter is that which passes the sphere of experience." Herbert
Spencer. _First Principles_, p. 17.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER V.
The argument of this chapter turns upon the analysis of concrete
processes carried on throughout human life; together with their
correlations or correspondent factors visible _in rerum naturâ_.
All these being complex activities, resolve themselves into series
of simpler activities, which, though separable in thought, follow
each other inseparably as real working elements of human or natural
productions,--or of both.
In each productive process of Mankind, we perceive:--
1. A purpose conceived,--(the end or final cause.)
2. A power or force which has to be (a.) discovered and (b.) fitted to
this human purpose.
2. (a.) This implies that the object in quest exists, or is capable
of being evoked into active existence, as a Force or operative Law
capable of producing real effects. Otherwise, it would be no auxiliary
to Man. Viewed _per se_, and apart from its being fitted to his
special purpose, it must therefore be a _natural_ power or law, and
answers to what Bacon calls a Form or Formal cause.[180]
(It is plain that human production requires some particular
utilization of a producing force, wider in itself than this or
any other ancillary application of its energies. Compare Bacon's
philosophic observation[181] that the operative Form "deduces the
given nature from some source of being which is inherent in more
natures.")
2. (b.) A number of such powers, forces, laws, forms, present
themselves to the intellectual eye of an inventor or producer.
Possible _fitness_, (adaptability)--must therefore next be
determined. And here the power is no longer considered separately, but
in relation to some Formation.
In 2, therefore, we have (a) a simple fact or general law of
Force;--and (b) a correlated fact, or specialized law of Production.
3. Finally, for operative activity, there must be an efficient cause
putting in movement the productive law, over and above its intelligent
apprehension just presupposed. This efficient Cause, as seen always in
human Production, is a Will.
Now each several step in this series comes before us as an act
of _Mind_. But out of this number one only needs to be examined
here;--because
Purpose (1) has been treated of in Chapter II.
Will (3) occupies the close of this Essay.
No. 2, therefore, (divisible into a and b,) makes the proper
subject-matter of the present Chapter. It has been written to meet
the difficulties felt by a certain number of reasoners respecting the
argument from Design. They are very often indisposed to accept that
argument, because its analogical nature makes it appear circuitous;
and because they hesitate when attempting to appreciate its exact
value: compare p. 53 _ante_. There is also a lurking dread of that
spectral shadow called Anthropomorphism, haunting some minds with
a pertinacity, which may be estimated from p. 54 _seq._ By such
reasoners let the present Chapter,--which proceeds not by way of
analogy, but through a direct analysis of acknowledged facts--be
read as a substitute for Chapter II. Or, they may if they please,
consider the present and two following Chapters as a Treatise entirely
distinct from the rest of the volume; this present Chapter serving as
a brief statement of the case for _physico-_theology; while the two
arguments ensuing sketch out _Ethico-_ or _Moral_ Theology; on which
complementary modes of thought see p. 107 _ante_, together with text
and notes now about to follow. Finally, by all those who accept the
reasoning from Design as already explained, let both it and our other
various lines of argument be treated as separate evidences of Natural
Theology, each resting on its own grounds, but all consilient at last.
_Analysis._--Advance and Retrogression of Discovery and of
Civilization. Progress dependent on realizing the relativity between
Power and Function. This condition of success is examined at length.
Perception of existing Relations, and creation of new ones by human
Reason and Will. Illustrations from histories of Invention, Art,
Education, and Self-Education.
Production of Change within ourselves. Self conquest, Self formation,
and Re-formation. Inability of animals arises from domination of
motives unalterable by themselves and instinctively apprehended.
Training relative to motor instincts of various sorts. Self-training
requires freedom from the domination of any single unbalanced
or unalterable impulse. It implies the power of using motives as
counterpoises, and of introducing new elements into the sphere of our
ideals.
Influence of human presence upon the education of animals; influence of
the Divine Idea upon Man.
Transition from the sphere of Intellect to that of Will in relation
to the World. The Spring of Production a movement of Will; the
Idea of Production an insight into the Mind of Nature; discovered
not logically, but as shewn in operation in Nature. Law and Idea,
Intelligence and Matter. Manifold Forces imply a central Unity. Putting
aside the analogical inference from apparent Purpose, the question of
operative Law (Force, Form, Mind,) is examined in its many activities,
their correlations and their underlying Oneness.
Natural Law in action: hypothesis of limited intelligence. Case of
Unreason, Creation by Chance.
Breadth of Law seen in its general fitnesses, and grander unities.
Exceptional effects in "Functioning."
Character of Mind in Nature. Law, type, idea. Adaptation even if
purposed is not Arbitrary. A Supreme Will must be a sovereign Reason.
Perfection of Mind in Nature estimated from convergent fitnesses and
correlations, as exemplified by Sight and Hearing. Also by their
effects in producing Beauty, Happiness, and a sense of sympathy. Mind
in Nature not bare intelligence, but possessing emotional attributes,
not harsh nor unlovely, but tender and loveable.
_Additional Note._
On the Doctrine of Chances applied to the structural Development of of
the Eye, by Professor Pritchard.
CHAPTER V.
PRODUCTION AND ITS LAW.
"Life," said Dr. Johnson, "has not many things better than this:"--"we
were," Boswell explains, "driving rapidly along in a post-chaise." But
what if the two men, congratulating themselves upon their speed, could
have read (with some approach to second-sight) Dr. Darwin's lines--
"Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd steam! afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car.
Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
The flying chariot through the fields of air."
The slow barge now traverses the wide Atlantic as fast as even
fast-living America can desire. The rapid car whirls across England
in a few brief hours. With what half-envious astonishment, might Dr.
Johnson have computed the arrowy flight of these iron creations over
land or water;--with what sententious wisdom might he not have dilated
on the uncontrolled dissemination, Sir, of books, knowledge, and
civility;--to say nothing of vile whiggism or possible rebellion!
No wide-waving wings have as yet wafted us over rivers and mountains.
But some inventors still cherish a hope of applying steam steerage, and
perhaps steam propulsion, to very large balloons.
It is curious to think of the many centuries, during which men saw
elastic vapour lifting their kettle lids, without catching the idea of
steam power, or reflecting on the movement it produced. Curious, too,
to remember how slowly the idea grew, after the Marquis of Worcester
had explained the relation between the power and its movement-producing
function. His "fire-water-work" (as he called it), "drove up water by
fire," at a rate of 1250 lbs. through one foot, to the consumption of 1
lb. of coal. This is about 200 times the waste of a good modern engine.
But the _principle_ was there. Water flowed without intermission, at
a height of forty feet, driven only by the elastic force of steam.
The introduction of atmospheric pressure half obscured the original
conception; steam-power seemed in danger of losing its proper
functions. Passing by Papin and Savery,[182] the descent of Newcomen's
piston depended on the production of a vacuum beneath it; at much cost
of heat and labour, much waste of fuel and force. Strange, that for so
many years nobody thought of introducing steam-power above the piston,
as well as below it.
The retrograde path which science sometimes treads, is also clearly
shewn in the long-delayed invention of the paddlewheel steam-boat. The
first patent was taken out by Jonathan Hulls in 1736, and his rare
pamphlet may be seen at the British Museum, or in Mr. Partington's
reprint.[183] Strange, that so good a thing should have continued
so long neglected;--up to the days of the first Napoleon, and,
(fortunately perhaps for civilization,) under the Conqueror's imperial
rule. The same fate, however, befel Trevithick's "walking engine" made
in 1802. He applied high-pressure steam-power to a railway locomotive
which really travelled (1805) at Merthyr Tydvil. Every one knows how
slowly this invention has grown up into the useful goods-train or the
luxurious roll of the express.
The relation between a power so well tested, and propulsion, was
thus long in being fitted with perfect mechanism, and presented to
the eyes of mankind as a familiar every day phenomenon. But the idea
of propelling carriages by other means than animal sinews, had been
working the reverse way; and a desirable end suggested a search for
means. Men tried to fit other powers to the function; the problem
gave rise to wind-driven chariots, and other curious contrivances for
travelling by land, which are graphically described by Lovell Edgeworth
and several of his contemporaries. Then, too, came the desire to sail
against the wind, and independently of water currents. A vignette in
the first Edition of _Bewick's Birds_ (vol. 1, p. 257), published in
1797, shews us a ferry-boat crossing a river by means of a windmill
which turns paddle wheels.[184] The engraver has marked by a ripple at
the vessel's bows the strength and swiftness with which she stems the
stream.
The history of these machines carries with it a very useful moral. It
furnishes an apt similitude to the delays and retrogressions which are
found in the onward march of mankind, in the gains and triumphs of
civilization. These sometimes occur to nations through error, violence,
and wrong. Compulsory celibacy, forced upon the most cultured men, was,
according to Mr. Darwin, one cause why Spain, notwithstanding her great
generals, navigators, and inventors,[185] has been distanced by freer
nations. Then, too, as he adds, "the holy Inquisition selected with
extreme care the freest and boldest men in order to burn or imprison
them.--In Spain alone, some of the best men ... were eliminated during
three centuries at the rate of a thousand a year.[186] The streams of
both invention and human improvement resemble, in this respect, the
current of a mighty river. We always encounter--and always ought to
expect--whirlpools, back-waters, and other sinuosities, as we descend
the flowing tide.
Very frequently, civilization is retarded by another kind of
difficulty, also besetting the inventive arts. Like them, Progress
depends upon its capacity for happily realizing the relativity[al]
between Power and Function. The philanthropist sometimes,--the
craftsman often,--has only to think of the function required, and to
grasp a relation pre-existing in the laws of the natural world,--fit
it to its own purposes, and usefully employ the adaptation. This was
the case when elastic vapours of many kinds were examined relatively
to their power of producing movement. Each deeper investigation brings
a clearer insight into a more deeply-hidden law. The apprehension of
"Heat as a mode of Motion,"[am] is an instance in point.
Sometimes--in human affairs oftenest--the mind originates a new
relation between Power and Function, and launches it, like an
unimagined locomotive, whirling and dashing onwards throughout the
world of men. The will of a powerful king or conqueror, statesman
or missionary, evokes a new power; gives it life and motive energy,
and sends it out to perform its intended function amongst millions
of mankind, and for many generations. Hence, Kant said there were
two things which filled him with awe: one, the starry heavens,
that mightiest example of mighty powers orderly performing their
appropriate functions; the other, Man's Will, a power less mighty in
one sense, but belonging to a sphere where mass and measurement are
not, and performing functions signalized too frequently by wrongful
determination. Functions which, whether rightly or wrongly performed,
involve a mightier _Something_ than all the inorganic worlds ever
displayed, a _Something_ we define by that deepest of ideas and most
awful of truths,--Responsibility.
The whole subject admits of extensive illustration. The relativities
of Power and Function are infinitely varied in Nature, Art, and
Thought; in the unity of the whole world, and in the disunited world
of Humanity. But, however varied in their sphere of operation, all
relations between Power and Function coincide in one characteristic.
They appeal to mind alone, and by mind alone can be apprehended so
as to become operative. Those that belong to the _human_ sphere of
activity are in part the _perceptions_ of Mind; in part they are
evidenced to our consciousness as its own _creations_.
If we look at the inorganic world, Man apprehends such a relativity
as that between steam-power and propulsion, and applies it. In the
realm of pure mathematics, there are powers of another sort, which
(when applied) require allowances to be made in "_functioning_"
them. Provided metal, timber, friction, and cross-circumstances have
their proper margin given, those abstract entities,[187] absolute in
truth, become realized in practice. When we come to organization,
particularly higher organisms, the functions of the biological kingdom
are more complex. Yet the trainer of animals knows how to combine
and modify old powers so as to produce new ones. The pointer, the
greyhound, the racehorse, and the hunter are all examples. Then, too,
men manipulate men. See how the face of all Europe is covered with
training establishments of every description.[an] Youths are fitted
for army, navy, bar, parliament, politics. The powers of attention,
memory, habit, are all pressed into service, just as the inventor
of locomotives calculates the strength and tenacity of iron, brass,
copper, and other materials, fits each pipe, crank, and wheel, to
its intended function, and ends by speeding his fellows past the
doors of their fellow-men. Now, the manipulation of these materials
is a calculable process, and succeeds at last. But there is one
disappointment often awaiting the manipulator of mankind. His failure
arises from the fact that the moral purpose, which he must take for
granted, is very commonly wanting among those he undertakes to educate.
Another inventor of the highest sort, an artist, conceives a majestic
thought. It becomes to him the work of his life, the function he
ardently desires to realize. To the true Art-man, his conception is
a noble ideal, and some instinct, or proclivity of his own nature,
teaches him how to adapt it to the ears and eyes, the intellect and
feelings of his race. There are sounds which die in their newborn
sensations of delight, yet haunt the memory while consciousness
remains. There are colours appealing to one single organ of perception,
and, through it, penetrating the soul with images that rise again and
again in nightly and daily dreams. And there are words, the forms and
creations of our distinctive human mind, through which it exercises its
sublimest powers, and which are (in themselves) among the most sublime.
_They_ have their proper functions. Age after age, from country to
country, from nation to nation,[188] they have moved the souls of
readers to emotion, reasoning, will, activity. Noble words, expressing
ideas unknown to all intelligences below man, and called into existence
by him, prolong their own lives by extending his intellectual and
affective life. They burn like incense within the temple of his spirit,
but, unlike incense, survive undyingly in the immortal flame which
kindles them.
There is a still loftier and more solemn function we all exercise--or
ought to exercise--in or upon the sphere of our own souls. To us is
committed the task, our human task,--morally imperative on no sentient
beings inferior to ourselves,--of transforming and reforming, that is
(to all intents and purposes) _truly forming_ our own inward nature. We
have not, at present, to consider how near heaven may and does draw to
earth, in this highest of works known to us who dwell beneath the sky.
But the absolutely human part of it belongs to this place.
Every one has learned how hard it is to break through even one bad
habit. The evil has in most cases enchained body as well as mind. A
drunkard's hand is naturally reached out to lift the cups it has been
used to lift. His thirst, too, recurs at the accustomed hour;--and
the readers of "Elia" know something of what happens when it is left
unslaked. A tingling and straining of the palate is associated with the
sight of the eye; the drunkard's throat burns when he sees the draught
before him; his frustrated desire is followed by the most frightful
sufferings throughout his disorganized nervous system. The same is true
of other like habituations; as may be read in De Quincey's Opium Eater,
and in the last book of Charles Dickens, left behind him an unfinished
fragment. It is true, also, of countless smaller customs which prevent
many a man from achieving what Hooker calls "great masteries." Every
muscle, fibre, and organ of our frame, performs easily the functions
it has been used to perform, but undergoes a strain if put out of its
usual course.
The mind (as well as the body), has its laws of habit and association.
We perceive this fact most readily in the less perfect intelligence
of the animal kingdom, of untutored man, and of people who are more
inured to action than to reflection. The more rudimentary the mind,
the more real is its state of subservience to association and habit,
which may then be properly termed its governing laws. But it would be
improper to apply this word "governing" to the same laws in connection
with higher natures. In a man whose reason and will have attained their
manly majority, such laws have ceased to be governors;--their province
is simply administrative. Deposed from their rule over his existence,
they become his ministers, servants, instruments. There is, thus, a
compensatory constitution of human nature, whereby the light within us,
which lighteth every man, may be said to make us free.[189] It exempts
us, that is, from the sway of customary laws which guide and reduce to
subjection the merely animal intelligence.
A habit broken is a customary law broken. And any one who breaks
through a customary law already inwoven with the fibres of his own
life, is a man _par excellence_. And the deeper that inweaving,--the
greater the laceration of living fibres,--if he rends them in
obedience to duty, and because to do otherwise would be to do wrong,
the more truly and emphatically he is a _Man_. Again, if we proceed
to ask by what means he breaks the bonds of custom, the Manhood of
his act appears still more distinctly. His purpose may be, and often
is, accomplished by setting a higher law of his being over against
a lower;--putting a more really human power in movement to tame and
quell some animal propensity. But then, what is that secret strength
which apprehends and evokes the higher law? What is the central spring
that moves the strictly human power, and converts it from a sleeping
capacity for good, into an acting and living energy? Clearly, it is
the Man's truest humanity;--the endowment which makes him Man.
There are lives of men plainly told, and undoubted, where
_re_-formation,--that is _self_-formation,--appears like a flash of
electric fire. The Will in such men has energized, just as intellect
flashes out in its noblest condition of genius; and can best be
described by the poet or the seer who knows what it is to create, and
new create. These lives more than realize Cæsar's boast;--the truly
human soul came to itself,--saw itself,--and overcame. The conqueror
did a deed which, (truly done,) was done for ever, and yielded him the
presage of perpetual peace.
Histories of self-conquest do, however, remarkably differ in respect
of the _time_ employed upon the work. Some victories are, as we have
said, rapid and brilliant as the march of Alexander,--others slow
and embarrassed, like the weary path of a pilgrim through deserts of
rolling sand. But no pilgrim who is in earnest need despair. Putting
aside all consideration of supernatural aid, he may take courage from
the essential greatness of his own human being, when contrasted with
the being of all creatures below mankind.
The _comparison_ sets out from this question:--What can merely animal
nature do to raise itself? Man, we know, can train certain brutes--he
can entrap all;--but no brute can in any wise deliver himself from the
snare of a single appetite. The weakness, as well as the strength, of
animal intelligence lies in the vividness of its instincts. Animals
appear conscious of the working of powers within themselves; and they
apprehend those functions, with the performances of which their powers
are correlated. Hence, in part at least, the pleasure of a bird in
nest-building; a bee in storing her comb, or a predacious creature in
its successful pursuit of prey. But the relation between animal power
and function appears so nearly fixed, as to be hedged round by narrow
limits; and only in a _very_ small degree susceptible of modification.
So far as we can discover, the brute is deficient in the means of
self-education, for _three_ distinct reasons. _One_, because he cannot
escape fulfilling the normal functions of his unreasoning impulse. In
the _second_ place, because he is unable to overcome the urgency of
one innate power, by opposing to it the claims and vigour of another.
_Thirdly_, he can never introduce anything new into the relativity
between power and function. He can command no spring of high aim or
creative thought, which might give new purpose to his better powers,
or open out some further sphere of activity before unknown.--Were this
possible, he might lift the functions of his common life above their
old destinies, and above themselves.--And _this_ would be a work of
self-education.
To pursue our comparison,--we must remember that the ability for
self-education and the capacity for being educated, are correlatives;
and we may measure the one by the other. The animal world has never
shewn strength enough to raise itself very high;--it has never ceased
to be distinctly animal. But, has it ever possessed latent powers
for which opportunity was always wanting? Mankind, for their own
purposes, have (we know) continually been testing[ao] the endowments
of inferior creatures. How high, then, can man by his endeavours
raise the animal race?--He can generally train them to a greater
quickness in the exercise and nicety of their own instinctive powers,
and a more enduring performance of their instinctively presented
functions. By reward and punishment, he can inure them to some degree
of self-restraint; and he takes advantage of a thousand pretty impulses
and fondnesses of animal nature, to call into being attachment,--nay,
often passionate devotion,--towards himself. In this sense, Man has
been styled the God of his domestic brute--his horse, his dog, his
elephant. It would be a curious subject of reflection, to inquire what
effect might possibly be produced upon the _human_ mind by the visible
presence, and incessant influence, of beings, as much higher than
men, as men are higher than brutes? The moment we start this idea in
our minds, it is difficult to evade an impression that Man must be a
desolate creature, if he can never in some way see the Invisible.[ap]
To leave this curious point. Nothing appears more really conclusive
against all supposed capacity for _great_ development, than the
history of what are called "learned animals";--of the mechanical means
necessarily employed for teaching them, and the mechanical results
obtained. There is indeed no better word to describe the true state of
the case; than the term "mechanical," as opposed to everything that
is ideal, or truly creative.[aq] If a brute could idealize the laws
of outward nature,--or the laws connecting his own powers with their
proper functions, he might see them as a Man does, and give them a
fresh existence within his own intelligence. He would then be able to
invent an alphabet, conceive a picture, and view the properties of
outward objects as universals inwardly apprehended. In this way, he
would acquire exemption from the reign of mechanism, and live a really
creative life. Possible conceptions--ideal functions--would require
new powers to realize them;--and these powers would be searched for
and found. Or, _vice versâ_, an idealized power,--a power seen, (not
as it is, but as it may be)--would lead to the discovery of fresh
functions,--new fields of enterprise,--new realms of imagination.
It is manifest at a glance, how far in fact these conquests are from
the world of creatures, by us, therefore, called unreasoning. Art,
letters, and abstract thought, are no visitants of the animal sphere.
Words cannot come where thoughts are not; and therefore language, in
the _human_ meaning of language, is unknown to brutes.[190] And no
effort made by Man has ever been successful in sharing with his humble
companions any one--(much less all) of these attainments. His artistic
sense of Beauty, and power of giving it varied expression, find no
Echo beneath himself; he can in no wise teach by historical record,
poetry, abstract calculation, or abstract thought. Neither can he
impart the true secret of social sympathy,--and forbid the stricken
deer to weep and die alone. Intelligence without imagination, cannot
conceive a sorrow so lonely or unseen. Therefore, it knows little of
deep sorrow,--for even the mortally-wounded bird will strive to hide
its wound.[191]
Now, in each and all of these respects, every human being devoted to
self-education starts from the plain fact, that Man is _educable_:--
"Parents first season us,--then schoolmasters."
The master of many a middle-school has frequent occasion to say with
Horace;
----"At ingenium ingens
Inculto latet hoc sub corpore."--
And the schoolmaster, also, knows that a little spark will often light
into fire some vast store of emotional as well as intellectual elements
lying asleep within.[192]
We therefore speak (if we speak correctly), of educating an animal in a
totally different sense from educating a boy. For, facts are as we have
stated them, whatever theories may be.
There is _one_ more point of contrast to stimulate and encourage
the self-educating portion of Mankind; and this point is the most
characteristic endowment essential to Humanity. A man is not creative
by virtue of his ideals alone, however bright and beautiful those
visions of his intellect may be. He calls into existence that, which as
yet is not, by virtue of his Will. We know this, although inexplicable,
to be true;--partly from the evidence of our own Consciousness,--which
asserts that it is so, and partly from the evidence of Morality,--which
says that it must necessarily be so. Were it otherwise, no amount
of Criminality could make a Criminal responsible. And this truth of
responsibility is one which may occasion serious reflection to us all;
to some of us sad remembrances.
Man, considered as causal or creative mind, cannot but act upon the
world without, as well as the world within himself. And perhaps the
nearest idea we are able to form of the process of _production_, is
the _inter_-action of power and function, evoked by a Will, (that
is a Cause); and continuing operative by aid of ordinary laws and
relativities of nature.[ar] One man resolves to construct a steam
engine, and on steam-power he concentrates his thought. He conceives
the relation between watery vapour and propulsion;--and by using
arbitrary signs, formulates and measures it. Then, he considers the
laws and properties of metals, fits each contrivance into place and
produces his machine. _Another_ determines to commit a murder. He
wavers--debates--wills the deed, and says,--
"I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat."
Every reader of Macbeth sees displayed before his eyes the airy dagger;
the human muscle strained to clutch the shadow first,--afterwards,
the reality;--the time, place, circumstances, all combined, followed
up--worked out, till the murderous man has chained all conditions of
success to his behest;--fulfilled his slowly-matured purpose,--and
become, as in Will, so in act, a murderer. A _third_ human being
endeavours to invent a method for teaching the deaf and dumb;--spends
a life in labouring among his silent tomb-like pupils, and succeeds to
his joy and their inestimable benefit at last. He awakens powers lost
in the shadow of death, and incites them to the performance of those
true and appropriate functions, from which they had been incapacitated
by a dwarfed and thwarted development. Before he aroused them, all
such powers were only possibilities, visible to his hopeful eye. Now,
they are utilized and happy activities; and, like impulses down a
long electric chain, perpetuate themselves for generations after the
benevolent inventor is taken from the race he had loved and educated.
There are _two_ features in which all these productive men resemble
each other. _One_, the creative influence of a purely human will,
which not only sees what is not as though it is,--but also determines
that it shall be. The _other_, a way of looking at, or rather, through
Nature, as something more than an assemblage of facts or phenomena;--of
penetrating to the _mind_ of Nature,--her ideal laws legible by the
intellectual eye of Man;--and finally, of putting each required law
into motion,--that is to say, converting an idea into a force, by the
movement of the producer's Will.
And the same is true of every useful producer, from the man who grows
corn and wine, to the politician by whose foresight is arranged a
treaty which gives Europe the blessing of half a century's peace. There
is, probably, no example of production more definite than the work of a
real statesman. A gifted human mind determines to pursue the thing that
is just and right and good; sees where the means to be utilized may be
found and enforced; touches the right spring of activity and power, and
leads his fellow-men into a path of precedent or constitution for which
ages may consecrate his memory.--But, let us suppose that he or any
other true producer falls short of realizing his idea. Then, the act of
Will would be in its _essence_ as noble a reality as the deed itself.
Yet the work intended,--the _production_ must needs be lost. Creative
will, as an efficient cause, would have moved within the moral sphere;
but beyond, and into the outside world of men and things, its activity
must have failed to penetrate.
When the case comes before us in this manner and is fairly weighed, we
see that the man who wills a good choice, reflects to his fellows the
image we are accustomed to call Divine. And that the man who produces
a good act reflects to his fellows the further likeness and idea of
a Creator. The will of man reflects a supreme will, when it refuses
the evil and chooses the good;--the creative energy of man reflects a
supreme energy, when it produces actual good; working and remaining
effectual in the world. These human reflections may be feeble shadows,
and far away from the Supreme;--as distant as earth and stars asunder,
but they are typical images nevertheless. Man, in whom the Theist
finds the impress of God, is by his power of Causality, as far raised
beyond the laws of material existence, as animal life and movement are
superior to the clods of soil on which the living creature walks, with
a consciousness of being exalted above what he treads upon.
If these far away reflections, so striking to a Theist, are, by an
unbeliever, pronounced insufficient proofs of Theism,--they remain
still of very great value to the argument--Who shall, in the teeth of
them, assert a reign of law in opposition to a reign of Causation,
when we perceive that Causality is the grand endowment underlying
the highest intelligence in this world, and distinguishing man from
every inferior creature? A large class of objections dies in the
fact that there is _known_ to us a power which can truly _originate_
actions;--a clear spring of volitional creativeness. And, as we have
already seen, it is this human power which endows us with the faculty
of self-education, and, at the same time, lays upon us the burden
of responsibility. It exempts Man from what would otherwise be an
iron chain of antecedents and consequents, linked together by mere
mechanical laws. Man, we are sure, may interpolate in this chain; he
may commence a new series within and over-riding it. The non-Theist
would (if consistent), describe such an act of will as a miracle.
Nevertheless, it is true to every-day life, and each guilty person,
justly condemned, is a living example of this truth.
Any reader who has been deterred from admitting the arguments for
Theism by the strength of objections apparently unanswerable, may
feel, if he will thoughtfully reperuse this chapter, that many very
formidable difficulties have melted away. He may also be inclined to
admit that, if _facts_ are to be considered the best grounds for
reasoning with probability from the known to the unknown, the facts
of nature, (including human nature,) make not against, but for,
the conclusions of Natural Theology. And they do so all the more
stringently, because they coincide with the higher and more spiritual
tendencies of Man's being,--with the beliefs and aspirations of the
most nobly endowed among his race.
Many readers will go further than this. They will perceive in the
constitution of our distinctive nature, and more particularly in the
movement of Volition, a really probable though far away similitude with
the producing Cause of all things. At all events they will say that
no other similitude or illustration has ever been conceived with so
much probability. To such minds the argument would appear sufficiently
convincing if shaped as a very wide application of the analogous
reasoning stated in our Chapter on Design. The limitations there laid
down should in this case be carefully observed; above all as regards
the _pivot_ on which such an argument must turn.
A larger class of readers may prefer to leave the field of this
inviting analogy untouched; and remain content with having noted its
resources in passing. They will thus prefer to pursue the more direct
line of thought already adopted, especially since it has the merit of
avoiding even the most shadowy apparent assumption of the principle
invidiously termed Anthropomorphism. We therefore continue to place
Man's causative nature side by side with external Force, and to set
the powers he exercises as an inventor, artist, and producer, over
against those natural powers we see elicited and brought to light by
his activities. This is the aspect of the world to which the Relativity
between Power and Function most obviously conducts us. Surveyed from
this aspect it becomes plain that Nature is not entirely a soulless
mechanism;--but that the Mind of Man finds something which corresponds
to his human Thought, and which answers the touch of his idealizing
impulse by implicitly obeying it. He is able, in this manner, to
distinguish Nature's Mind from Nature's raw material.
Most of us are so accustomed to look at the world _ab extrâ_, and
place ourselves in antithetical opposition to it, that we experience
a kind of embarrassment in changing our point of view, and considering
how much Nature and human nature correspond and harmonize together.
There is something strange to many persons, in the thought that _law_
is an _idea_ put into operation;[as] that, when we speak of the
dynamic agencies and living forces of nature, the dynamism is derived
from _intelligence_; the life springs from mind. This is one of the
puzzles and perplexities which hang a veil between God, who is pure
Reason, and this outside world. No doubt there is much that appears
dark and enigmatic in every attempted explanation of the subject.
Yet it is clear that, whatever our conception of matter and mind may
be, one of these two must be resolvably consequent upon the other;
and the efforts of physicists have been strained for many years to
diminish the distance between them. With these efforts, however, we
have nothing to do beyond very distinctly adducing them[at] in order
to shew where this particular difficulty really lies, and that it is
by no means a special question of Natural Theology. The point for
us, is rather to see how much we can discern respecting the action
of Mind _in_ and _upon_ Nature. To see, that is, how many facts the
realities of Production teach us. And throughout the whole realm of
Productiveness (commencing from the steam-engine and ending with human
self-formation), there is a certain sameness of procedure and of
principle transparently discernible. And this truth, fairly examined,
yields more than one kind of argument for Theism.
At the first blush of the subject, it is evident that the
scientific producer when he _begins_ to move, starts from the Causal
power of mind. He moves _through_ ideas or impulses of which he is
internally conscious, and which present to him a chosen aim to be
realized, a goal to be attained. It is equally evident that, when his
aim is to make or effect something external to himself, he _next_
proceeds to discover or accept one or more principles, existing _for
Mind alone_,[193] but operative in Nature. Such principles yield to his
reason the requisite proportionate relation of _Power_ employed, to
_Function_ designed. Upon this intelligent perception of intelligible
laws, he acts;--it works well, and succeeds;--and from this experience
of working and success, he finds for his productive _intelligence_ a
daily and hourly _verification_.
It is well to place this subject in various lights before reasoning
upon it. We may illustrate the relativities or laws, through which
Intelligence acts, by saying that they are to the fabric of the
world, what the motory nervous system is to a highly-developed living
organism. And, putting aside for a moment the intellectual agency of
man, and applying our similitude to illustrate natural production
alone, we may say that, just as the _mandatory nerves_ imply some
_volitional_ centre, so these _intelligent laws_ presuppose a _mind in
Nature_. And we may not only make this clearer, but also evidence it
more certainly, by pointing to the fact that amidst Nature's almost
infinite manifoldness, we see everywhere harmony, symmetry, order.
Forces, like lines of light, traverse the world, illuminating, (so to
speak), the moving scenes of its magnificent transparency. And the one
electric lamp that sends forth those illuminating rays, typifies the
Unity from which emanate all cosmical Forces, and which shines visibly
through them all.[au]
There is nothing imaginative or metaphysical involved in this
statement. It amounts to no more than what many very eminent physicists
lay down, as implicitly contained in their sciences. On _this very_
ground, Professor Baden Powell holds the validity of the argument
from Design, as was mentioned in a former chapter. He puts the case
into a few words thus:--"In the present state of knowledge, law and
order, physical causation and uniformity of action, are the elevated
manifestations of Divinity, creation and providence."[194] A few
passages further on, he repudiates with scorn the vulgar supposition
that physical science can be confined to the circle of outward
experience alone;[195] it includes within itself the principle of
directing intelligence. According to Comte himself, "un fait s'explique
par un fait d'un ordre supérieur, dont la perfection est sa raison,
dont l'action qu'elle renferme est sa cause."[196]
It does indeed seem as impossible to deny the existence and operation
of _Mind_ in Nature, as it is to deny the existence and consciousness
of our own minds. No tenable reason can ever be assigned why, when
we look forth into the world surrounding us, we should be able to
ascertain the fact of corporeal existence by means of our bodily
senses, and be, at the same time, unable to ascertain the fact of
existing intelligence by means of our mental intuitions. Each kind
of existence has its appropriate evidence, and _both_ sorts of
evidence claim our belief by appealing to the veracity of our human
consciousness.
If, therefore, it were possible to say with certitude "There is no
God," the certainty would not, because it _could_ not, eliminate
Mind from the Universe. The law of production exists in, and for the
Mind,--and so far as we can know, Mind in some shape or other works
through the intelligible law.[av] Suppose we frame a crucial case for
investigation.
Without speculating upon the first origin of things natural--without
taking into the inquiry any preconception of a Divine personality--let
us inquire what the world of Nature as it now exists can teach any
man respecting the _kind_, _degree_, or _condition_ of Mind, which
regulates and moulds it? We are obliged to say "moulds it";--for Nature
is not presented to us as an inert mass. We see movement, change, and
activity everywhere. And this fact makes a vast difference to the
present question.
Let us, then, suppose the inquirer setting out from an attempt to
conceive mind as immersed in matter; either being _identical_ with
it,[aw] or _pervading_ it, like a subtle fluid, or imponderable force.
Let some such conception be supposed his starting point. What sort of a
Power must he finally determine this mind to be?
Could he possibly commence with a mundane intelligence inferior to
the mind of Man?--The bee can build a cell, the beaver a dam--but
the bee cannot construct a dam, nor the beaver a cell. The same is
true universally. Animal intelligence acts in single right lines. We
should, therefore, be obliged to conceive as _many minds_ immanent in
nature, or as many modifications of mind, as there are varieties of
production. And if this were true, what would become of the order and
harmony of the Universe? We call it by that name, because we know that,
(notwithstanding its marvellous diversity and manifoldness,) it forms
a grand united whole. It would become necessary, _next_, to admit
a governing intelligence, able to control the countless species of
intelligent power employed in producing all sorts of effects. And it
really seems easier, at once to conceive a supreme Mind, framing its
ideas into intelligible laws, and launching the forces of the Universe
in moving might along them.
There are many obvious reasons why, after all, this would be the
easiest,[197] and _therefore_ the preferable, conception. _One_ lies in
the immeasurable width and extent of that relativity between power and
function, which we have seen to underlie every known production,--and
conceivable _possibility_ of ruling or moulding Nature. Now, under
_power_ we class forces such as those which hold corpuscles in
cohesion, balance the orbs of heaven, or control the growth of a
crystal. Such as those, again, which make Life the counterbalance
of dissolution and decay; and enable the animal frame to resist
decomposing influences; to feed, to grow, to energize, and move freely
on earth, in water, or in air. Such as those, finally, which yield us
the _pabulum_ of sensation, thought, emotion; and subserve our efforts
to attain whatever is highest or noblest in our human world.
We know what sorts of intelligence are required to apprehend, and to
do no more than apprehend, the rationale of many among these natural
movements, forces, and processes. Some of them can be explained only
by a very great mathematician, other some by an equally great chemist,
biologist, or psychologist. And in some, Man of the 19th century is
as much a _tyro_ and disciple,--as ignorant and as tentative--as his
forefathers were two thousand years ago. What a complexity of Minds, or
what a majestic supremacy of one Mind becomes thus discernible by the
eye of Reason! Of Reason we say, meaning thereby the reason of a human
being who looks facts in the face, puts them together and draws the
inevitable conclusion. Were this drawn, it would amount to something
very like a re-affirmation of Theism. At present, however, we will
not press these topics further; since our object is to put an opposite
conception on its complete trial, so as to see what is eventually
implied in it.
Suppose, for instance, a merely sensitive intelligence to represent
the character of mind administering the Universe. Conceive, if you
choose, the world to be like an animal as some old philosophies
conceived it. The way in which a _human_ being sees Power and Function
is altogether different from the way in which they would be viewed
by the supposed mundane intelligence. _We_ do not see them as two
entities _separately_ existing, and the relation which is of such
vital consequence to all inventors and producers, as _something_ which
ensues between them. To us, the causal essence of the Power lies in the
_relativity_ itself, and we often actually recognize the Power passing
over into its Function, and becoming lost in it. An example in point,
lies in the active combination of uncombined atoms and molecules;--the
_relativity_ (or, as in such a case it is termed, the _attraction_) is
the immediate cause of the production. "Thus" says Dr. Tyndall[198] "we
can get power out of oxygen and hydrogen by the act of their union,
but once they are combined, and once the motion consequent on their
combination has been expended, no further power can be got out of the
mutual attraction of oxygen and hydrogen. As dynamic agents they are
dead." We can, in this manner, produce from the combustion of coal,
light, heat, and propulsive force; but coal and oxygen are _consumed_
in the producing process. Yet in this process, _what and how much_
would have come within the grasp of a merely sensitive intelligence?
Simply the object coal,--the brilliant light,--the pleasant heat,--and
the actual movement of an incomprehensible machine. Let Mundane Mind
be thus conceived and Nature would necessarily be administered by an
intelligence which never got below the surface. The result, as we may
certainly perceive, must have always lain between either an unchanging
sameness, or the instability of chance misdirection. A state of things
which compared with our actual world would seem most unsatisfactory;
but which never has in fact been realized, for a reason at once
apparent to the reader's sagacity.
Take another instance of change. The chemical elements of a Galvanic
battery disappear in performing their function of causing a current,
and the current may in turn disappear in the decomposition of water.
But what merely sensitive intelligence could discern the invisible
agency,--or measure the conversion of force, where nothing is
visible except loss? Besides, in this latter example do we not see
how truly correlative these two terms Power and Function are? We
may intelligently think and speak of the chemical constituents of
the battery, as conjoint _Power_;--and of their accomplishing their
_Function_ in the Current. But we may also speak of the _current_
as a Power, accomplishing _its_ Function by evolving from water two
elementary gases. In other words, the ideas of Power and Function,
definite enough to the eye of reason, are in all other respects,
_fluent_. They are neither things, nor phenomenal attributes of things.
They _are_ power and function by virtue of a relation existing between
them, and this relation is a fact not of the bare impressible sense,
but of our purely reasoning intellect.
The same consequence appears, (in a shape which to some minds may be
easier,) from viewing in another light the very same example of a
galvanic battery, applied to decompose water. At each end of the chain
there are palpable materials, visible to corporeal sense. But, between
them runs the true force;--and this is absolutely impalpable. We
theorize upon this force, but, whatever our theories may be, we accept
its reality as a fact clear to our human _mind_. And we also clearly
see that no lower mind could possibly apprehend it.
And here arises a curious question well worth a brief consideration.
It is this:--To any kind of mind, the faculties of which are bound
up in sense, _what_ would appear to be the realities, and _what_ the
unrealities of the Universe? Galvanic wires or chains are perceptible
to our bodily senses, but the traversing force is imperceptible. Hence,
in our common speech, we are easily led to talk of the polar elements
or objects (whatever they are) as realities _par excellence_;--but
without in the least meaning to imply that the _nexus_ or relativity
between them is any less real; or less a fact. What we do mean, is,
that this reality is a fact to another, and a finer, faculty. But what
would it be if the finer faculty were wanting?--Reality would in that
case become phenomenal;--and phenomena (according to Dr. Whewell and
other inductive philosophers), would at the same time cease to be facts.
So far, therefore, as we know,--and we still limit this discussion to
what we really do know,--were Reason wanting, all the nobler part of
the Universe--its highest realities,--as understood by us, could not
be held real. They would fade like an insubstantial pageant--or the
baseless fabric of a dream. For, be it repeated,--_we_ do not see as
a merely sensitive mind must see. Principles and laws, sustaining and
administering the universal mechanism, are the visible realities of
intellect; and are visible to intellect alone. Thus, no one ever saw
the principle of the arch except by an act of intellectual sight, and
yet in the strength of it all arches stand firm. So, too, an architect
knows that the stability and beauty of his structure depend on much
that is hidden from the uninstructed human eye. What meaner eye, then,
could ever succeed in piercing the secret architecture of the Universe?
To the mundane mind, if less than human, the most real would become
unreal,--and the shadow appear to be the substance. No supposition
can possibly seem more absurd! Yet, when people speak of a "blind
intelligence" in Nature, they must mean something less than Reason by
that strange contradictory appellation.
The case for Unreason can never be improved by saying that 'The world,
as it exists, is a system of accordant forces; tending to fulfil
their functions through a kind of self-evolving movement, excited and
controlled by correlation and correspondence, action and interaction.
The products prevail, where they do prevail, through the completeness
of their harmony with their surroundings. By virtue of this acquired
excellence which becomes intrinsic, each finally develops itself
into a permanent and integrated unit.' Here, obviously, the question
of Intelligence recurs. If Mind were a necessary postulate before,
how much more stringent the necessity now! From hosts of uncounted
relativities we infer an Absolute;--surveying their rhythmical stir
and onward strivings what shall we predicate respecting it? The
world might have been a discord;--Whence came its first symphonious
movement?--its after-waves of sphere-music majestically sweet to
understanding ears;--its deeper and still deeper accordances;--
"The Diapason ending full in Man,"
that is to say, thus ending so far as the solemn march has been played
out! What shall be hereafter, we know not now. But most marvellous of
all as yet, is that first chord which struck the key-note of the whole
harmonious performance.[199]
It is evident that the answers to these inquiries, must have the effect
of infinitely elevating our own idea of the intelligence discoverable
in natural productions;--because they will add to our perception of its
wonderful insight, a still more wonderful impression of _fore_sight,--a
foresight extending over illimitable periods of time; and causing
effects, for the calculation of which no power of intellect actually
known to us, would have any adequate sufficiency.
The only apparent evasion of this consequence, is to deny arrangement
altogether. But, then, how great are the resulting difficulties! In
the _first_ place, it would seem at once to restore covertly, if not
openly, that very ancient Divine principle, Chance; whose banishment
has long been agreed upon by reflective men. In the _next_ place, it
is not clear how, looking at the scientific doctrine of Chances,[ax]
they would, when calculated, yield any probability whatever of
production;--or even (what appears a less thing), of development from a
rudimentary or less perfect structure already existing. The consequence
is, that one or more principles besides Chance must soon be postulated,
and "blind laws" are held insufficient because not unlikely to become
guilty of incidental misdirection. This need of auxiliary postulates
has determined some very staunch advocates of Evolution to maintain
that the circle of evolving laws or forces must certainly be ruled
by some Intelligence, either inherent and immanent (mind and movement
identical),--or else separate, transcendental, and probably personal,
superintending and superior to them all.[ay]
Indeed the affirmation of Mind in Nature as a positively perceived
Fact appears to be the sure direction of our human understanding, if
allowed to observe and judge in a common-sense way. And the reason of
the thing is obvious. Whenever we perceive anything by bodily vision
and touch, or other material instruments, we unhesitatingly attribute
to it a material existence. We derive our impression from a material
antecedent, and say _here_ is a corporeal substance,--in a word,--body.
So, on the other hand, whenever material instruments are dispensed
with, (because inadequate and unsuitable), and when Mind alone is
used as our medium of perception, we are quite sure that what we
perceive is not Body but Mind. In this manner, we know what to say of
arrangement, counterbalance, superior excellence, (which means superior
fitness), tendency to a function, (that is fitness in movement), or of
a system of relation and correlation transcending the highest flight
of human imagination. We say at once, _here_ is Mind. We do not think
it necessary to employ a periphrasis, and reason on the properties of
intelligence, any more than we should, when receiving information from
our senses, commence a syllogism on the properties of Matter. We simply
say in the two several cases,--here is body,--here is mind. And, as
regards both propositions, we are in all likelihood equally safe in
saying so.
The real question, therefore, remains just as we before stated it. We
then derived our statement from the process of production,--first by
analyzing it, and next, by shewing that the analysis was verified in
experience. We have since run some risk of repetition, in order to look
at the whole subject of Mind in Nature from various points of view. The
effect has been to confirm for us, the issue above raised as being the
right and true question. We must not ask, "Is there Mind in the natural
world?" but "What _kind_ and _degree_ of Intelligence do we, from our
observation of facts, attribute to the Mind evidenced in the Universe?"
It is in answering this question that the _fitnesses_ of organized
structures yield so many important considerations. We are not however
obliged to follow the chain of the Design argument, liken these
structures to objects of human art, and say, here is Design implying
a Designer. We may quite as easily look at them in the light of the
great productive Law we have been investigating. Fitness consists in
the nicety of the manner in which Function is correlated with Power.
Throughout the realm of organisms, vegetable and animal, the most
beautiful examples of such correlation meet us at every turn.[az] When
therefore we put our query, what character may here be ascribed to
the Mundane Intelligence, the reply cannot seem doubtful. Instances
of pre-eminent Fitness (such as those adduced further on) need not
be understood in any other sense than this, in order to accomplish
the purpose for which they are described. Neither need such words as
adaptation or design, used for brevity's sake, be taken as references
to the analogical argument discussed in our second Chapter. Mr.
Darwin himself has frequently employed the expressions "contrivance,"
"purpose," etc., without intending any such reference,--nay, rather
with the full intention of arguing for a different account of the
"contrivances" he specifies.
From such wonderful examples of Fitness, many minds will choose at
once to read the broad lesson of Teleology. Be it observed then that
if this is done, the larger the generality under which the principle
of Design is conceived, the better for its force in reasoning. As
an argument, the idea has suffered from the imagination of readers
dwelling upon the specialities recounted in many valuable books to
the exclusion of wider and more universal conceptions. There is a
vast difference,[ba] between the assertion of a grand Unity, (in
subservience to which all other things have their several determinate
purposes,) and the being able to say in _each_ smaller instance, here
is _the_ design or intended relation between this individual structure
or condition, and this sole and definite finality. A good specimen of
the difficulty thus occasioned, is an objection of Littré's against
the idea of Divinely beneficent adaptation. Why, he asks, should the
bite of a mad dog have been allowed to produce hydrophobia? Why,
that is, should the dog's saliva have been so _contrived_, as to
convey so virulent a blood poison? The true answer, of course, must
be that this effect is but _one_ operation of a much more extensive
physiological law;--a law producing results, often of the most
beneficial character. We must also, (as the same writer allows), draw
a strong distinction between every law, and what is technically termed
its "functioning."[200] Littré views Nature as a moving panorama of
antecedents and consequents;--but he is obliged to confess that the
_nexus_ is _not_ invariable. There are, indeed, variations, for which
he employs this same "functioning," as a kind of apology. The necessity
of such an apology is in itself a remarkable fact; since it shews how
little rigorous is the common argument used by many physicists against
the probability of Miracles. The necessity of natural sequence is,
after all, no adamantine fatality; and therefore Testimony to an event
contrary to our experience and expectation, may have a most decisive
value.[201]
We have already shewn that to see a law in Nature, is to see an actual
instance of _wide_ intelligence. Now, so seen, it is known as existing
_in rerum naturâ_--active--energizing--productive. But, suppose we
for a moment conceive the intelligible law, as existing only in the
intelligence itself,--a thought prior to its realization. The law is
_then_ what writers on natural history often call a _type_;--or, as it
is termed in the older philosophical language, an _idea_. The readers
of S. T. Coleridge will not easily forget his chapter reconciling the
Platonic and Baconian[bb] methods of Philosophy. It turns, in great
part, upon the essential identity of _idea_ with _law_. (_Friend_, Vol.
III. Essay ix.)
If, therefore, we perceive in anything creative, or any _system_
whatsoever, a harmony of power with function, we call it fitness,
or even adaptation when describing the actual matter of our own
_observations_. But, if we speak of the same harmony _as an act of
mind_, we call it intelligent adaptation. And, this at least, is what
careful writers on Natural Theology mean by the word Design. Yet,
certain careless objectors have misconceived the plain meaning, so far
as to assert that if we would speak of any production as designed,
it must first be proved not only intentional but _arbitrary_. This
misconception--(the very opposite of our meaning)--seems to turn upon
the mixture of two distinct notions,--the design of _reason_ and the
determination of _caprice_. If Natural Theologians wished to prove that
the Designer of the Universe was always doing wrong,--and was always
right _because_ he did wrong,--it would be necessary to argue that
design and caprice are one and the same thing. But Natural Theology
endeavours to shew the exact contradictory. Its idea is, above all
things, the Idea of a Sovereign Reason manifest in universal Law.
The rejoinder has been made that at all events a Will is implied in
Design;--and that he who wills acts arbitrarily. Of course, there is a
certain sense in which this may be true. A Sovereign will _could_ at
pleasure refuse the Right and choose the Wrong, but then it would cease
to be a Sovereign Reason. That is, it would cease to be Sovereign at
all, in any true Theology. And we may, likewise, add that the ordinary
instances and illustrations of Design never aim at proving Will
_directly_;--their immediate object is to shew Intelligence, foreseeing
ends or functions, and purposing their attainment. It is clear that
Will must _indirectly_ be implied in such an argument. But, then, it
is so implied, partly because all Reason is _per se_ identical with
Will, and partly because (as we shall endeavour to shew), Causation
necessarily emanates from Will. The reader must, however, assign each
conclusion to its proper argument, and keep each argument to its proper
conclusion;--a rule which those who dispute for victory, and not for
truth, frequently fail to observe.
The use we are now making of fitness and adaptation is less to prove
the existence of Mind in the Universe, than its grandeur, grasp, and
comprehensiveness. For this purpose our clearest evidence arises
from the _coincidence_ of several _diverse_ conditions, tending to
one sovereign finality of function. And indeed, this argument from
coincidence, is generally the most convincing;--the greater the
_convergence_ of separate conditions,--the stronger is our assurance
that Mind determined the result.[bc] Our sense of sight has always been
a favourite subject in Natural Theology. It is familiar, and, so far as
a broad outline of the function is concerned, may be easily studied by
any common-sense person. It is, also, evidently _one_ Function; yet,
even cursory observation shews a great diversity of powers contributing
to produce it. How diverse they are, may be perceived by supposing
first one and then another element of eyesight to be absent, and
considering what the effect of _each_ deficiency must be.
Suppose, there were no light. The eye then, however beautiful and
perfect in structure, would not be a means serving any purpose of
perception. It is clear thus that the eye is an optical instrument.
Suppose, again, light and optical arrangement both in existence, but,
also, that the eye had no power of _adjusting_ itself to the direction
of objects and other circumstances; evidently its function of vision
would be very much restricted.
In relation to this end, the eye is a mechanical[202] instrument.
We might, further, suppose the optical apparatus to work well, its
adjustment also to be perfect,--and the picture on the retina no less
so. But, with this perfect picture, suppose all ended. The function of
eyesight would be as irretrievably gone as in our first case.
This shews us that the eye does _not_ really see. It is the servant of
an impressible Power,--and this impressible power uses it, and sees
through it.
Suppose, finally, that the picture on the retina set vibratory nerves
in movement--each microscopic stroke producing its effect of vibration.
Let something be seen by the impressible Power, but not apprehended
as an object of _common_ perception. Let there be no comparison with
other sensations; no transcript into sense-language, of what is at
once seen, touched, heard, smelled, or tasted. Consider, how barren
and unproductive the result! Eyesight is reduced to a play of coloured
images. There can be no malleable material for Intelligence to work
up. Nothing to be cast into any universal mould;--no possibility of a
greedy Mind feeding eagerly through the quick perceiving eye.
In the absence of information given, or thought stimulated, we must
pronounce such sight unintelligent;--and the Eye an unintelligible
phenomenon. But why? The anatomical structure remains perfect. It is
the _adaptation_ that has been lost along with the finality, and this
loss is fatal. Hence the paramount importance of finality.
Any student may pursue this ruling idea of "_adaptation to a functional
end_," through a vast range of the Animal kingdom. There are eyes
fitted to long distances--almost telescopic;--eyes so contrived as
to be absolutely microscopical. Then, as the refraction of water
differs from that of air, the optical lenses of fishes become rounded
almost like little balls. And, the observer who passes into the
tribes of Invertebrata, will acquaint himself with eyes mounted
upon footstalks,[203] and eyes multiplied and placed in different
situations. Few natural objects are more wonderful than the contrivance
of a compound eye. The many hexagonal tubes, which may be reckoned
by the thousand, are cemented together on one expanded and swollen
nervous disk, reminding us of the thalamus in the great plant order
of Compositæ, (Syngenesia),--in the Elecampagne for instance, the
Bur Marigold, Thistle, and Centaurea. A compound eye has a range of
vision extending over about 180 degrees, (half a circle), and must from
its structure be endowed with specializing distinctness. Mind in the
Universe, is thus presented to us, as in the New Testament,--wide as
the whole arch of heaven, but cognizant of a sparrow or a lily.
A creature with diminished vision--such as the Mole--or the Amblyopsis,
is a curiously interesting study in itself;--still more so as an
example of adaptation.
In old times, the Mole was accounted blind. Aristotle[204] observed
that a structural eye exists, but that a skin is drawn over it, and
this skin deprives the animal of sight. His observation has made work
for commentators, from Simplicius downwards. Trendelenburg (on the
_De Anima_) confines himself to criticism. Torstrik makes a kind of
apology for not excising "_quæ loco_ [Greek: atopôtatôi] _de talpâ
dicuntur_." Cardinal Tolet accepts the observation, and thinks the
Mole's eyes thus admirably protected from the bad effects of a sudden
access of light, when he rushes violently into appearance overground.
Naturalists during many centuries, made the whole history of the mole
a piece of guesswork, and no creature except the Sloth or the Earwig
has ever been more generally misrepresented. Perhaps our familiar old
English "Moldwarp" (West of England "Want"), might have remained a
puzzle to this day had not a French courtier[205] fled from the Paris
Revolution, and devoted his attention to Moles. The fact that the eye
of our Western Mole is not completely closed, may be proved by throwing
a living specimen into a pond. But, in the South and East of Europe the
"blind mole" does really exist,[206] as has been shown by Erhard and
the Prince of Musignano. In more than one species, the skin passes over
the eyeball without any loss of hair.
This diminution of eyesight is a case of what has been called
"retrogression." Now the Mole is a highly developed Mammal, and his
position in the animal kingdom entitles him to the best of eyes. But,
they would not suit his habits. The same is true of the Blind-fish of
Kentucky (Amblyopsis Spelæus). For such a creature, not the distinct
vision of objects,--but a sensation of light,--was the _desirable_
possession,--and the creature has it.[207]
It does not in the least matter, as a question of Fitness, whether
this retrograde condition of the eye was brought about by natural laws
slowly acting upon the animal frame, or produced in some more rapid
way. The fitness is the same; and, as we are at present engaged, not on
proving the existence of Mind, but in illustrating the greatness of a
confessedly existing mind, these instances of far reaching adaptation
are very strongly in point.
Of the cavernous life and habits of the Amblyopsis there is not much
to be said; though the idea of a happy existence amidst depths of
sepulchral gloom, naturally excites our imagination. But "the little
gentleman in black" whose health used to be enthusiastically drunk a
century and a half ago, is a perfect study[208] in himself. We are
interested by his fairy-like gift of hearing (noted by Shakespeare);
his gluttony; his fleetness of foot; his combativeness; and his
castle-building! As a civil and military engineer, he far surpasses the
beaver, though dwelling in dark places, and with only a dubious pair of
eyes in his scheming quick-conceiving head.
Probably, the sense _we_ should all least wish to lose is our eyesight.
Its perpetual delight, and its capacity for improvement by training
are powerful motives for treasuring its possession. The savage and the
microscopist, the artist and the astronomer, all train their faculty
of vision; and how differently do these four classes of eyes see!--The
difference is, we know, in exact proportion to the intelligence which
employs and educates them. And, conversely, how the nobly-governed
eye informs and educates the Mind! What a world of hope, then, as
well as beauty, seems to die when we conceive the blind man in his
dim solitude! Yet the contentment of its sightless inmates, is one of
the most salient comforts of every blind asylum. Most likely, their
cheerfulness depends on the great use of finger-dexterity, and the
exquisite susceptibility of the ear. And these delicate endowments,
which make our several senses inlets of happiness, are amongst the most
fascinating illustrations of the Universal Mind with which we have to
do.
The structure of the ear is far less commonly dwelt upon by most
writers, than the structure of the eye. Indeed, its organization seems
to less certainty explained, the problem being, of course, to trace
the transmission of sound to the auditory nerve. But, as in ancient
Egypt, so in modern England, the treatment of disease in special
organs has been divided amongst special therapeutists; and the ear
does not fail to benefit by being better understood. There is, even
now, room for hypothesis in some parts of the process of sonorous
transmission,--and beyond that process, science does not pretend to
go. Modern views, however, as Dr. Tyndall truly says, "present the
phenomena in a connected and intelligible form, and should they be
doomed to displacement by a more correct or comprehensive theory,
it will assuredly be found that the wonder is not diminished by the
substitution of the truth." No one has put the wonder into a more
intelligible shape than this well known writer, at the close of his
book upon Sound.[209]
Employing instances of Design for the purpose, to us most relevant, and
gleaning a few among hosts of shining illustrations, there is nothing
more alluring than the spectacle of the organic world, considered as
a source, not of life only, nor of information only, but of emotional
pleasure and never failing enjoyment. No kind of existence can be
more depressing to our highly-strung human nervous-system, than the
shut up occupations which overgrown cities necessitate. Yet, with
what unrepressed vigour of delight does the artizan, the physician,
the schoolmaster, or the curate of a town parish, look upon the open
world beyond! And, never has there existed any human being more truly
impressible by Nature's loveliness, or more skilled in conveying the
impression to the minds of others, than a genuine British Naturalist.
For the holiday-maker to walk with such a lover of Nature through
field and forest, over moor and mountain, by rivulet, lake or sea,
is to gain a new sense of wonder and admiration;--new perceptions of
excellence, symmetry, and unity; while freshened emotions of religious
awe and trust keep springing upwards from them all. It is with outward
nature, as it is with individual natures; the regard of a loving eye
is the true revealer of hidden secrets. For in reality we see, not
only with our bodily sense and our contemplative reason, but also
with the strength and insight of affection. And thus many a weary Man
perpetually finds the aspect of the visible universe indescribably
soothing amidst his own confusions and disappointments. He may feel,
at times, that his human heart can penetrate beyond what eye and head
have taught him; and, while thoughtfully observing the footprints of
creative mind, he can feel within his bosom a sense of superhuman
tenderness, like the warm breath of his living Creator.
The very fact that highly-endowed and deeply thoughtful men[210]
have so felt and spoken, ought not to be without its influence.
There is much conveyed--very much indeed--by the truth that the world
is beautiful. If, when we examine natural production, intelligent
operation is seen to imply an operative intelligence, is it not also
true that realized beauty implies an ideal beauty, intelligently
preconceived in a Mind itself beautiful? Had there been nothing in
earth or sky to soothe, elevate, and make happy, with _what different
feelings_, should we have attempted to picture productive Mind at work
through an unlovely Universe!
ADDITIONAL NOTE.
ON THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCES APPLIED TO THE STRUCTURAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE
EYE.
The present Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford wrote, in 1867,
as follows:--
"The chances of any accidental variation in such an instrument being
an _improvement_ are small indeed. Suppose, for instance, one of the
surfaces of the crystalline lens of the eye of a creature, possessing
a crystalline and cornea, to be accidentally altered, then I say,
that unless the form of the other surface is simultaneously altered,
_in one only way_ out of millions of possible ways, the eye would
not be optically _improved_. An alteration also in the two surfaces
of the crystalline lens, whether accidental or otherwise, would
involve a definite alteration in the form of the cornea, or in the
distance of its surface from the centre of the crystalline lens, in
order that the eye may be optically better. All these alterations
must be simultaneous and definite in amount, and these definite
amounts must coexist in obedience to an extremely complicated law.
To my apprehension then, that so complex an instrument as an eye
should undergo a succession of millions of _improvements_, by means
of a succession of millions of _accidental_ alterations, is not
less improbable, than if all the letters in the 'Origin of Species'
were placed in a box, and on being shaken and poured out millions
on millions of times, they should at last come out together in the
order in which they occur in that fascinating and, in general, highly
philosophical work.
"But my objections do not stop here. The improvement of an organ must
be an improvement relative to the new circumstances by which the organ
is surrounded. Suppose, then, that an eye is altered for the better
in relation to one set of circumstances under which it is placed.
By-and-bye there arise a second set of circumstances, and the eye is
again, by Natural Selection, altered and improved relatively to the
second set of circumstances. What is there to make the second set of
circumstances such that the second improvement (relative to them)
shall be an improvement or progress _in the direction_ of the ultimate
goal of the human eye? Why should not the second improvement be a
retrogression _away from_ the ultimate organ now possessed by man, and
necessary to his well-being? But all this suiting of the succession
of circumstances is to go on, not once or twice, but millions on
millions of times. If this be so, then not only must there be a
BIAS in the order of the succession of the circumstances,
or, at all events, in the vast outnumbering of the unfavourable
circumstances by the favourable, but so strong a bias, as to remove
the whole process from the accidental to the _intentional_. The _bias_
implies the existence of a Law, a Mind, a Will. The process becomes
one not of Natural Selection, but of _Selection by an Intelligent
Will_." _Analogies in the Progress of Nature and Grace_, (being the
Hulsean Lectures for 1867,) Appendix A, p. 125 seq. The whole article
should be carefully studied by the reader.
FOOTNOTES:
[180] Nov. Org. II. 4, last paragraph. "For a true and perfect rule of
operation then the direction will be _that it be certain, free, and
disposing or leading to action_. And this is the same thing with the
discovery of the true Form. For the Form of a nature is such, that
given the Form the nature infallibly follows. Therefore it is always
present when the nature is present, and universally implies it, and is
constantly inherent in it. Again, the Form is such, that if it be taken
away the nature infallibly vanishes. Therefore it is always absent when
the nature is absent, and implies its absence, and inheres in nothing
else."
[181] Sentence following immediately in N. O. II. 4. "Lastly, the
true Form is such that it deduces the given nature from some source
of being which is inherent in more natures, and which is better known
in the natural order of things than the Form itself. For a true and
perfect axiom of knowledge then the direction and precept will be,
_that another nature be discovered which is convertible with the given
nature, and yet is a limitation of a more general nature, as of a true
and real genus_. Now these two directions, the one active the other
contemplative, are one and the same thing; and what in operation is
most useful, that in knowledge is most true." _Ellis and Spedding_,
Vol. IV. pp. 121, 2.
[182] Savery was celebrated by Dr. Darwin as the man, who,--
"Bade with cold streams the quick expansion stop
And sank the immense of vapour to a drop."
Savery's patent (the first granted for a steam engine), is dated 1698.
Papin suggested in 1695 a partial vacuum under a piston for raising
water, so as to make the pressure of the air the moving power. Most
people are aware of the effect upon invention produced by the great
mining interest,--the necessity of pumping out underground _adits_,
water logged, and therefore inaccessible.
[183] At the end of his Lectures on the Steam Engine.
Hulls' was the first attempt to convert the reciprocating movement
of the piston-rod into rotation; and it does not rival the crank
in simplicity. But there is a contrivance for equalizing the first
irregular motion by weights, which possesses real beauty, and has the
further advantage of readily increasing or diminishing the velocity of
the wheels. The wheels themselves are fixed at some little distance
astern of his boat which he intends to be used for towing ships.
They are thus (as Professor Rigaud observes) nearer "to what may be
considered as the centre of the compound body, which they were the
means of propelling."
Such was the earliest patent; but proposals for the same object had
been made still earlier. Papin submitted one to the Royal Society in
1708, comprehending a "boat to be rowed with oars moved with heat," and
engines capable of throwing bullets and raising water. Sir Isaac Newton
reported on the invention and recommended experiments, but the Society
could not or would not grant a sum not exceeding £15 for the purpose.
Again, the Acta Eruditorum for 1690, preserves a previous proposal
made by Papin, accounts of which will be found in Farey's _Treatise on
the Steam Engine_, and Professor Rigaud's _Early Proposals for Steam
Navigation_. In the latter publication (a paper read to the Ashmolean
Society) is also contained (pp. 11-14) a summary of the most wonderful
among all records relating to this subject;--the trial of Blasco de
Garay's steam-boat at Barcelona under Charles V. "The experiment was
made the 17th June 1543 on board a vessel called the Trinidad, of 200
barrels burden, which had lately arrived with wheat from Colibre.
The vessel was seen at a given moment to move forward and turn about
at pleasure, without sail, or oar, or human agency, and without any
visible mechanism except a huge boiler of hot water, and a complicated
combination of wheels and paddles." The entire or partial credibility
of this record has been often argued _pro_ and _con_. Professor Rigaud
thinks it "not impossible that even a magnificent invention, like this,
may have sunk into oblivion." Perhaps not, considering that the Spain
of Cervantes is the Spain of Southey, and Mr. Borrow. A clock may stand
still, but a nation which does so is retrograde.
[184] The Chinese seeing our steam-ships at Chusan (in the war of 1841,
2), made paddlewheel vessels driven by men inside their hulls. Ignorant
of steam-power, they achieved an engine without its principle. So too
Prince Rupert gave a rotary motion to oars by horse-power, producing a
greater velocity than sixteen watermen could impart to the Royal barge.
[185] See second note on this chapter.
[186] Darwin's _Descent of Man_, I. p. 179. Mr. Darwin adds in a note
that "Sir C. Lyell had already (_Principles of Geology_, 1868. II. 489)
called attention, in a striking passage, to the evil influence of the
Holy Inquisition, in having lowered, through selection, the general
standard of intelligence in Europe."
[al] The term "relativity" is employed here on account of its breadth
and comprehensiveness, and because it does not imply the adoption
of some special hypothesis as to the essence of things or formative
principles themselves;--such theorizing being no necessary condition of
the present line of thought.
Let it be observed, however, that any law of the natural world by
virtue of which, the apprehended relativity becomes operative, must be
conceived as in its own nature _genetic_ or _causative_, in order to
explain Production. What is here meant may easily be understood by a
few common-sense reflections.
The word "Law" is one of the most ambiguous expressions possible.
Perhaps its most familiar use is in statistical science, where
it usually means the result gained from averages. For example,
birth-rates, death-rates, and rates of exchange are spoken of as laws
of increase, of mortality, and of the money market. Sometimes nothing
but the generalized fact is signified; sometimes it is intended to
imply that these formulæ govern, or ought to govern social questions,
or problems of political economy.
In like manner, when a law is the verbal embodiment of any principle,
it may be considered as a perfectly abstract proposition; or else
as a governing rule or maxim, under which definite and actual cases
can be brought. The principles of arithmetic or geometry are laws to
which every practical question involving number or measurement must be
submitted. The laws of thought govern our reasonings, or at least they
ought to do so.
Another way of looking at Law is to consider it in its commonest
origin--_i.e._, as the expression of a law-maker's will. But when a
writer on Natural Theology speaks of the laws of the physical world,
and then adds that "law implies a lawgiver," he either supposes himself
to have demonstrated the applicability of this maxim in relation to his
own science;--or if not he is simply assuming the whole question at
issue. [Compare _Additional Note_ B, to Chapter II. p. 98, _seq._]
The remaining most usual employment of the word, is to designate a
_Force_, some actual moving power tending to realize itself in some
way, working out a function either for good or evil, developing the
secret of its own existence by the effects which it produces.
Take an example from real life. A medical man coming to a certain rural
district, observed its high death-rate, traced it to the very great
prevalence of small-pox in the place, and formulated a law embodying
the results of several years _averages_ which appeared sufficiently
surprising. A further acquaintance with the habits of the neighbourhood
disclosed the fact that inoculation was continually practised, and as
continually kept secret on account of the penalties attached to it.
The inquirer took advantage of the opportunity afforded by a custom he
could not control to investigate its consequences. A few years later,
he arrived at exact conclusions determining the law of activity exerted
by the virus, under certain conditions. In other words, he found the
_genetic_ law of its operation.
Now, if the death-rate,--a piece of statistical law,--be contrasted
with this last named law of virus-growth, the difference between these
two formulæ is at once obvious. Without any scientific discussion or
refining, we grasp a broad common-sense distinction, which is all that
seems needed here. For our purpose, it would be useless to inquire
whether the law of virus-growth may be resolved into laws higher and
far more recondite still. An inventor seizing the useful law he wants,
will not stop to ask any such questions; he will apply his power and
realize the function he has in view at the moment.
Another common-sense instance is to think of the properties of any
familiar substance; the acridity of an alkali, for instance; its power
of effervescing with acids, and neutralizing them; its behaviour as
a reagent in a variety of ways, long to enumerate, but practically
useful. When we have described all these properties, have we defined
the whole substance? In other words, is the alkali anything more than
a bundle of properties momentarily known to us? Undoubtedly there is
one point more to be noticed; its principle of _permanence_, until
brought under new conditions which dissolve its unity, and destroy the
inter-coherence of its properties. Now whatever maintains this unity
is the law of its substance. There are laws of nature under which
both it and countless other substances are formed, continue, and are
dissolved, making way for unending series of fresh combinations. And
this mode of apprehending the unities we call substances, raises the
self-same idea of genetic law which has been under consideration. If we
are asked whether we can explain such laws further, we usually reply by
saying "these are the forces of the natural world." Their correlations
and modifications rule the kingdom of nature, and the great globe
itself;--nay, they wield the empire of the Universe!
Such laws, such forces, have engrossed the attention of physical
philosophers from the rude beginnings of inquiry. They have led to
speculations of all kinds;--the best known of which is the distinction
between Form and Matter in existing objects;--a distinction in common
use amongst persons who but dimly guess at the past issues which it
raises. Nothing, however, can be said on such a topic here, except by
way of reference to the philosophic system of Francis Bacon. [Compare
p. 92 _ante_, and the Synopsis prefixed to this chapter.]
[am] One of the most curious _morceaux_ in the history of Science,
is the fact that the nature of Heat has been several times thus
determined, viz., by Bacon, Locke, and Count Rumford. See Tyndall on
_Heat as a Mode of Motion_, Section II., and Appendix.
Bacon determines the nature of Heat by way of exemplifying "The
Investigation of Forms." It is his sole instance, and is most
instructive. (_Nov. Org._ II., 11 seq., in E. and S. Vol. IV., pp.
127-155.) "For example," he begins, "let the investigation be into
the Form of Heat." It need scarcely be observed that the twofold
relation of his "Forms" to Metaphysic and to Physic is one of the
least explained parts of Bacon's vast system. How little his theory
of Induction is commonly understood may be perceived by any skilled
reader of Macaulay's well known Essay--a composition (to borrow a great
schoolmaster's words) "displaying an almost inconceivable amount of
nescience."
[187] It is worth observation how often the abstract entity--(the
principle of the whole realization)--is forgotten even by scientific
persons. Forgotten, we say, since surely forgetfulness is the
true origin of many futile attempts at explaining away essential
principles. The following very curious case in point is narrated by
S. T. Coleridge:--"There is still preserved in the Royal Observatory
at Richmond the model of a bridge, constructed by the late justly
celebrated Mr. Atwood (at that time, however, in the decline of life),
in the confidence that he had explained the wonderful properties of
the arch as resulting from the compound action of simple wedges, or of
the rectilinear solids of which the material arch was composed; and
of which supposed discovery his model was to exhibit ocular proof.
Accordingly, he took a sufficient number of wedges of brass highly
polished. Arranging these at first on a skeleton arch of wood, he
then removed this scaffolding or support; and the bridge not only
stood firm, without any cement between the squares, but he could take
away any given portion of them, as a third or a half, and appending
a correspondent weight, at either side, the remaining part stood as
before. Our venerable sovereign, who is known to have had a particular
interest and pleasure in all works and discoveries of mechanic
science or ingenuity, looked at it for awhile stedfastly, and, as his
manner was, with quick and broken expressions of praise and courteous
approbation, in the form of answers to his own questions. At length
turning to the constructor, he said, 'But Mr. Atwood, you have presumed
the figure. You have put the arch first in this wooden skeleton. Can
you build a bridge of the same wedges in any other figure? A straight
bridge, or with two lines touching at the apex? If not, is it not
evident that the bits of brass derive their continuance in the present
position from the property of the arch, and not the arch from the
property of the wedge?' The objection was fatal, the justice of the
remark not to be resisted."--(_The Friend._ Vol. III., pp. 176, 7.)
_Addition._ Of "those abstract entities absolute in truth," Bacon
writes (_Nov. Org._ II. 9), "Let the investigation of Forms, which are
(in the eye of reason at least, and in their essential law) eternal
and immutable, constitute _Metaphysics_:" and again (Ibid. 15), "To
God, truly, the Giver and Architect of Forms, and it may be to the
angels and higher intelligences, it belongs to have an affirmative
knowledge of forms immediately, and from the first contemplation. But
this assuredly is more than man can do, to whom it is granted only to
proceed at first by negatives, and at last to end in affirmatives,
after exclusion has been exhausted." And of their utility, as applied
truths, he says (Ibid. 2), "Though in nature nothing really exists
beside individual bodies, performing pure individual acts according to
a fixed law, yet in philosophy this very law, and the investigation,
discovery, and explanation of it, is the foundation as well of
knowledge as of operation. And it is this law, with its clauses, that I
mean when I speak of _Forms_; a name which I the rather adopt because
it has grown into use and become familiar."
And these passages are in perfect harmony with Bacon's precept "that
Physic should handle that which supposeth in Nature only a being and
moving (and natural necessity), and Metaphysic should handle that which
supposeth further in nature a reason, understanding, and platform
(ideam)." (_Advancement._ II. E. and S. p. 353.) The reader will also
perceive how natural it was for Bacon to place mathematical science
"as a branch of metaphysic; for the subject of it being Quantity;
not Quantity indefinite, which is but a relative and belongeth to
_philosophia prima_ (as hath been said,) but Quantity determined or
proportionable; it appeareth to be one of the Essential Forms of
things; as that that is causative in nature of a number of effects; ...
and it is true also that of all other forms (as we understand forms)
it is the most abstracted and separable from matter, and therefore
most proper to metaphysic; which hath likewise been the cause why it
hath been better laboured and enquired than any of the other forms,
which are more immersed into matter. For it being the nature of the
mind of man (to the extreme prejudice of knowledge) to delight in the
spacious liberty of generalities, as in a champion region, and not in
the inclosures of particularity; the mathematics of all other knowledge
were the goodliest fields to satisfy that appetite." (Ibid. p. 359.)
Compare this _Essay_, p. 91 _ante_, together with foot-note.
[an] "Observe," writes the late Sir B. Brodie, "observe the effect
which the general diffusion of knowledge produces on society at large;
how it draws the different classes of it into more free communication
with each other; how its tendency is to make the laws more impartial,
bring even the most despotic governments under the influence of public
opinion, and show them that they have no real security except in the
good will of the people. Knowledge goes hand-in-hand with civilization.
It is necessary to the giving full effect to the precepts of the
Christian faith. It was from the want of it that Galileo was tortured
by the Inquisition, that Servetus was burned by Calvin, that the
Huguenots were persecuted and slaughtered by Louis XIV., and that in
numerous other instances one sect of Christians has conceived it to be
their duty to exterminate another. It is a misapplication of the term
civilization to apply it to any form of society in which ignorance
is the rule and knowledge the exception. If a Being of superior
intelligence were to look down from some higher sphere on our doings
here on the earth, is it to be supposed that he would regard the Duke
of Buckingham, dancing at the French Court, and scattering the pearls
with which his dress was ornamented, on the floor, as being really
superior to an Australian savage; or that he would see in the foreign
Prince, who at a later period exhibited himself at another Court with
his boots glittering with diamonds, any better emblem of civilization
than in the negro chief, who gratifies his vanity by strutting about in
the cast-off uniform of a general officer?" _Psychological Inquiries._
Part II., pp. 14, 15.
[188] "A few phrases of Aristotle," says Dr. Brown, (Works I. p. 341,)
"are perhaps even at this moment exercising no small sway on the very
minds which smile at them with scorn." Mr. Carlyle asks, "Do not Books
still accomplish _miracles_, as _Runes_ were fabled to do?... Consider
whether any Rune, in the wildest imagination of Mythologist, ever did
such wonders as, on the actual firm Earth, some Books have done."
_Heroes_, p. 252.
[189] No writer has ever dwelt more on this truth than Coleridge, and
no writer ever had a stronger reason for dwelling upon it. Perhaps the
ordinary public has seldom been more unjust than in its estimate of
Coleridge's addiction to opium. The occasion of his first use of it
was a venial error, his servitude was heavy, and the account of his
sufferings and struggles most deeply affecting. Then, his final victory
(respecting which so little is generally said) was a very noble moral
achievement.
[ao] Men have aimed at accomplishing their purpose partly by training
animals, and partly by breeding through select specimens of each race.
The two principles thus relied on are habit and heredity. Respecting
the latter of these a note of considerable length had been intended in
this place. But the reader interested in the general question can learn
sufficient details in Dr. Carpenter's _Mental Physiology_ together with
the authorities therein referred to by him.
The following instances adduced by Mr. Wallace to show how improvement
through heredity is visibly limited are very remarkable. "In the matter
of speed, a limit of a definite kind as regards land animals does exist
in nature. All the swiftest animals--deer, antelopes, hares, foxes,
lions, leopards, horses, zebras, and many others--have reached very
nearly the same degree of speed. Although the swiftest of each must
have been for ages preserved, and the slowest must have perished, we
have no reason to believe there is any advance of speed. The possible
limit under existing conditions, and perhaps under possible terrestrial
conditions, has been long ago reached." He immediately proceeds to
place in contrast with these, some examples where progress is not thus
barred. "In cases, however, where this limit had not been so nearly
reached as in the horse, we have been enabled to make a more marked
advance and to produce a greater difference of form. The wild dog is an
animal that hunts much in company, and trusts more to endurance than to
speed. Man has produced the greyhound, which differs much more from the
wolf or the dingo than the racer does from the wild Arabian. Domestic
dogs, again, have varied more in size and in form than the whole family
of Canidæ in a state of Nature. No wild dog, fox, or wolf, is either
so small as some of the smallest terriers and spaniels, or so large as
the largest varieties of hound or Newfoundland dog. And, certainly, no
two wild animals of the family differ so widely in form and proportions
as the Chinese pug and the Italian greyhound, or the bulldog and the
common greyhound. The known range of variation is, therefore, more than
enough for the derivation of all the forms of Dogs, Wolves, and Foxes
from a common ancestor." Wallace. _Natural Selection_, pp. 292, 3.
Dr. Prichard's accounts of similar variations in his _Natural History
of Man_ and other ethnological works are particularly interesting.
Habit is a topic more germane to the subject of self-training, and is
therefore examined at some length in our text.
It seems natural that the empire of both Habit and Heredity should
be strongest over the purely automatous, and the instinctive or
semi-instinctive actions of mankind. Witness the effect of Caste
institutions, Guilds, and family vocations. Regular occupation struck a
certain visitor to this world as producing a like result:--
"Nimbly," quoth he, "do the fingers move
If a man be but used to his trade."
[ap] "They that deny a God destroy man's nobility; for certainly man
is of kin to the beast by his body; and, if he be not of kin to God by
his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys likewise
magnanimity, and the raising of human nature; for take an example of
a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put on when he
finds himself maintained by a man, who to him is instead of a God, or
'melior natura'; which courage is manifestly such as that creature,
without that confidence of a better nature than his own, could never
attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon divine
protection and favour, gathereth a force and faith, which human nature
in itself could not obtain'; therefore, as atheism is in all respects
hateful, so in this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to
exalt itself above human frailty." Bacon. _Essay on Atheism_, p. 56.
"What joy to watch in lower creature
Such dawning of a moral nature,
And how (the rule all things obey)
They look to a higher mind to be their law and stay!"
_Remains_ of A. H. Hallam, privately printed.
[aq] The difference between brute and Man appeared so vast to Bacon
that, following Telesius in this as in some other respects, he adopted
as a doctrine the duality of the human soul. He maintains it at length
in the _De Augmentis_ iv. 3, a chapter which begins thus:--"Let us
now proceed to the doctrine which concerns the Human Soul, from the
treasures whereof all other doctrines are derived. The parts thereof
are two; the one treats of the rational soul, which is divine; the
other of the irrational, which is common with brutes.... Now this soul
(as it exists in man) is only the instrument of the rational soul, and
has its origin like that of the brutes in the dust of the earth....
For there are many and great excellencies of the human soul above the
souls of brutes, manifest even to those who philosophise according to
the sense. Now wherever the mark of so many and great excellencies is
found, there also a specific difference ought to be constituted; and
therefore I do not much like the confused and promiscuous manner in
which philosophers have handled the functions of the soul; as if the
human soul differed from the spirit of brutes in degree rather than in
kind; as the sun differs from the stars, or gold from metals."
[190] We have it on Coleridge's authority that "Lord Erskine, speaking
of animals, hesitating to call them brutes, hit upon that happy
phrase--'the mute creation.'" Would this were true! exclaims some
invalid, nervously agonized by cats and dogs, cocks and hens, and
listening with horror to their various cries and noises. But strictly
speaking Lord Erskine was right,--for the animal world is mute as far
as real language is concerned. Compare Max Müller on the "Bow-wow
Theory." _Lectures on Language_, Series I. Lecture ix.
[191] The Poet's thought, not more imaginative than true, should be
kept in mind when estimating the difference between gregariousness and
society. If the latter be held a development of the former, it must
have been transformed in the progress of its descent. Where affinities
are really traceable between the human and the unreasoning world, they
may perhaps be referred with greater probability to a common ancestry
than to a lineal pedigree. And the more remote the alleged origin, the
less unlikely it may appear.
[192] "Sir Humphrey Davy, when a boy, was placed under a schoolmaster
who neglected his duties, and adverting to this subject in a letter
addressed to his mother after he was settled in London, he says, 'I
consider it as fortunate that I was left much to myself as a child, and
put on no particular plan of study, and that I enjoyed much idleness
at Mr. Coryton's school. I, perhaps, owe to these circumstances the
little talents I have, and their peculiar application. What I am I made
myself. I say this without vanity, and in pure simplicity of heart.'"
Brodie's _Psychological Inquiries_, I. 29.
"The regular course of studies, the years of academical and
professional education, have not yielded me better facts than some
idle books under the bench at the Latin School. What we do not call
education is more precious than that which we call so. We form no
guess, at the time of receiving a thought, of its comparative value.
And education often wastes its efforts in attempts to thwart and balk
this natural magnetism, which is sure to select what belongs to it."
Emerson. _Spiritual Laws._
[ar] "We can command Nature only by obeying her; nor can Art avail
anything except as Nature's handmaiden. We can affect the conditions
under which Nature works; but things artificial as well as things
natural are in reality produced Not by Art but Nature. Our power is
merely based upon our knowledge of the procedure which Nature follows.
She is never really thwarted or controlled by our operations, though
she may be induced to depart from her usual course, and under new and
artificial conditions to produce new phenomena and new substances.
"Natural philosophy, considered from this point of view, is therefore
only an answer to the question, How does Nature work in the production
of phenomena?" R. L. Ellis. _Preface to Bacon's Philosophical Works_,
Vol. I. p. 59.
[as] "The philosopher, not less than the poet, postpones the
apparent order and relations of things to the empire of thought.
'The problem of philosophy,' according to Plato, 'is, for all that
exists conditionally, to find a ground unconditioned and absolute.' It
proceeds on the faith that a law determines all phenomena, which being
known, the phenomena can be predicted. That law, when in the mind, is
an idea. Its beauty is infinite. The true philosopher and the true poet
are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty,
is the aim of both. Is not the charm of one of Plato's or Aristotle's
definitions, strictly like that of the Antigone of Sophocles? It is,
in both cases, that a spiritual life has been imparted to nature; that
the solid seeming block of matter has been pervaded and dissolved by a
thought; that this feeble human being has penetrated the vast masses of
nature with an informing soul, and recognized itself in their harmony,
that is, seized their law. In physics, when this is attained, the
memory disburthens itself of its cumbrous catalogues of particulars,
and carries centuries of observation in a single formula." Emerson.
_Idealism._
"He who studies the concrete and neglects the abstract cannot be called
an interpreter of nature. Such was Bacon's judgment." Robert Leslie
Ellis, in _Bacon's Works_, Vol. I. p. 26.
"If a man's knowledge be confined to the efficient and material causes
(which are unstable causes, and merely vehicles, or causes which
convey the form in certain cases) he may arrive at new discoveries in
reference to substances in some degree similar to one another, and
selected beforehand; but he does not touch the deeper boundaries of
things. But whosoever is acquainted with Forms, embraces the unity of
nature in substances the most unlike; and is able therefore to detect
and bring to light things never yet done, and such as neither the
vicissitudes of nature, nor industry in experimenting, nor accident
itself, would ever have brought into act, and which would never have
occurred to the thought of man. From the discovery of Forms therefore
results truth in speculation and freedom in operation."--Bacon. _Novum
Organon_, Book II. Aph. III.
[at] The problem awaiting the philosophic physicist runs as follows:--
It remains to be seen how closely and with what degree of distinctness,
science can approximate these impalpable forces governing the natural
world, to the forces we are accustomed to call immaterial, because they
become known to us by the activities of Thought and Will.
This problem--the incorporeity of Matter, or a near approach to
it--has been a favourite subject of speculation in all ages. The
curious reader may track it from the pre-and post-Christian Greeks
through Arabian and Jewish philosophies to the Schoolmen (who borrowed
from Jews unknowingly) and so transmitted it down like an heirloom
to our own later controversialists. The subject has been treated on
Metaphysical grounds, for Religious interests, or as a weapon keen
edged in demolishing antagonistic cosmologies. But it has not often
been entertained for purely scientific reasons, and as one of those
so-called "useless questions" which always turn out most prolific
seminal principles, fertile in explaining nature and throwing out
branches in numerous unforeseen directions.
It was thus however and with no side views that the illustrious Faraday
looked at this subject. With what effect may be best learned by putting
together two separate accounts of his reasoning.
In 1844, Dr. Bence Jones informs us Faraday (then in his 53rd year)
indulged in "A speculation respecting that view of the nature of matter
which considers its ultimate atoms as centres of force, and _not as so
many little bodies surrounded by forces_.... The particle, indeed, is
supposed to exist only by these forces, and where they are it is."
This speculation did in fact give a tone to that memorable season--now
thirty years ago.
Dr. Tyndall says:--"On Friday, January 19, 1844, he opened the weekly
evening meetings of the Royal Institution by a discourse entitled 'A
speculation touching Electric Conduction and the nature of Matter.' In
this discourse he not only attempts the overthrow of Dalton's Theory
of Atoms, but also the subversion of all ordinary scientific ideas
regarding the nature and relations of Matter and Force. He objected
to the use of the term atom:--'I have not yet found a mind,' he says,
'that did habitually separate it from its accompanying temptations; and
there can be no doubt that the words definite proportions, equivalent,
primes, etc., which did and do fully express all the _facts_ of what is
usually called the atomic theory in chemistry, were dismissed because
they were not expressive enough, and did not say all that was in the
mind of him who used the word atom in their stead,'" (_Faraday as a
Discoverer_, pp. 119-20.)
And again:--"With his usual courage and sincerity he pushes his view
to its utmost consequences. 'This view of the constitution of matter,'
he continues, 'would seem to involve necessarily the conclusion that
matter fills all space, or at least all space to which gravitation
extends; for gravitation is a property of matter dependent on a certain
force, and it is this force which constitutes the matter. In that view
matter is not merely mutually penetrable; but each atom extends, so to
say, throughout the whole of the solar system, yet always retaining
its own centre of force.'" Faraday "compares the interpenetration of
two atoms to the coalescence of two distinct waves, which though for
a moment blended to a single mass, preserve their individuality, and
afterwards separate." (_Ibid._ pp. 123-4 and note.)
The subject did not easily lose its hold on the philosopher's mind.
"At the Institution," writes Dr. Bence Jones, "he gave eight lectures
after Easter on the phenomena and philosophy of heat. He ended this
course thus:--'We know nothing about matter but its forces--nothing in
the creation but the effect of these forces; further our sensations
and perceptions are not fitted to carry us; all the rest, which we may
conceive we know, is only imagination.' He gave two Friday discourses:
the first on the nature of matter, the other on recent improvements in
the silvering of mirrors.
"His notes of the first lecture begin thus:--'Speculations dangerous
temptations; generally avoid them; but a time to speculate as well
as to refrain, all depends upon the temper of the mind. I was led to
consider the nature of space in relation to electric conduction, and so
of matter, _i.e._ whether _continuous_ or consisting of _particles with
intervening space_, according to its supposed constitution. Consider
this point, _remarking the assumptions everywhere_.
"'_Chemical considerations_ abundant, but almost all _assumption_.
Easy to speak of atomic proportions, multiple proportions, isomeric
and isomorphic phenomena and compound bases; and to account for
effects we have only to hang on to assumed atoms the properties or
arrangement of properties assumed to be sufficient for the purpose.
But the fundamental and main facts are expressed by the term _definite
proportion_,--the rest, including the atomic notion, is assumption.
"'The view that physical chemistry necessarily takes of atoms is now
very large and complicated; first many elementary atoms--next compound
and complicated atoms. System within system, like the starry heavens,
_may be right_--but may _be all wrong_. Thus see how little of general
theory of matter is known as fact, and how _much_ is assumption.
"'Final brooding impression, that particles are only centres of force;
that the force or forces constitute the matter; that therefore there is
no space between the particles distinct from the particles of matter;
that they touch each other just as much in gases as in liquids or
solids; and that they are materially penetrable, probably even to their
very centres. That, for instance, water is not two particles of oxygen
side by side, but two spheres of power mutually penetrated, and the
centres even coinciding.'" Bence Jones--Life of Faraday, Vol. II., pp.
177-78.
These views (best known as Boscovich's theory), though not generally
held in scientific circles, are favoured by Bacon's most able
commentator, Robert Leslie Ellis, and are pronounced by Professor
Huxley a "tenable hypothesis." Mr. Spencer poises the balance as
follows:--"Though the combining weights of the respective elements are
termed by chemists their 'equivalents,' for the purpose of avoiding
a questionable assumption, we are unable to think of the combination
of such definite weights, without supposing it to take place between
definite numbers of definite particles. And thus it would appear that
the Newtonian view is at any rate preferable to that of Boscovich. A
disciple of Boscovich, however, may reply that his master's theory is
involved in that of Newton; and cannot indeed be escaped. 'What,' he
may ask, 'is it that holds together the parts of these ultimate atoms?'
'A cohesive force,' his opponent must answer. 'And what,' he may
continue, 'is it that holds together the parts of any fragments, into
which, by sufficient force, an ultimate atom might be broken?' Again
the answer must be--a cohesive force. 'And what,' he may still ask, 'if
the ultimate atom were, as we can imagine it to be, reduced to parts as
small in proportion to it, as it is in proportion to a tangible mass
of matter--what must give each part the ability to sustain itself,
and to occupy space?' Still there is no answer but--a cohesive force.
Carry the process in thought as far as we may, until the extension of
the parts is less than can be imagined, we still cannot escape the
admission of forces by which the extension is upheld; and we can find
no limit until we arrive at the conception of centres of force without
any extension." _First Principles_, p. 54.
It is evident that Faraday was able to think in a manner which has been
often declared impossible. Mr. Spencer's statement of the counter case
is alone sufficient to prove that the inquiry is sure to be recurrent.
We may add with Dr. Tyndall that facts alone cannot satisfy the mind,
and that when a law is established, the question "why" is inevitable.
Compare _foot-note_ p. 324 _post_.
[193] A familiar instance of one among these abstract entities may
convey to some readers a clearer idea of their nature than many careful
explanations. Three balks of timber are lying in our road,--one, a
very large and heavy monster, directly across it. Desirous of driving
by, and being without adequate help to remove an obstacle beyond our
strength, we call to mind the following definition. "The lever is an
inflexible bar, capable of free motion about a fixed axis, called the
fulcrum." (Newth. _Natural Philosophy_, p. 33.) Acting upon this idea,
we place one balk we can manage to move, upon a second which happens
to lie conveniently, and so roll away the third heavy monster. This
done, we replace No. 1 peaceably beside No. 2, and wend on our way
rejoicing. Now the lever, as defined by Newth, existed ideally in our
mind, and we realised and used it. Our lever and fulcrum are still
lying on the road, though they are lever and fulcrum no longer. The
leverage was an applied mental Form, but we no longer want the Form to
be operative,--and along with it the Force has disappeared.
[au] Our knowledge of Matter and of Motion;--our knowledge of their
continuance while our forms and other forms are undergoing change;--all
we most _certainly_ know of the material world, resolves itself into
our knowledge of Force. Thus far Mr. Herbert Spencer is with us, as may
be seen from the following paragraphs from his _First Principles_. "By
the indestructibility of Matter, we really mean the indestructibility
of the _force_ with which Matter affects us. As we become conscious of
Matter only through that resistance which it opposes to our muscular
energy, so do we become conscious of the permanence of Matter only
through the permanence of this resistance; as either immediately or
mediately proved to us. And this truth is made manifest not only by
analysis of the _à posteriori_ cognition, but equally so by analysis of
the _à priori_ one. For that which we cannot conceive to be diminished
by the continued compression of Matter, is not its occupancy of space,
but its ability to resist." (p. 179.) "It remains to be pointed out
that the continuity of Motion, as well as the indestructibility of
Matter, is really known to us in terms of _force_. That a certain
manifestation of force remains for ever undiminished, is the ultimate
content of the thought; whether reached _à posteriori_ or _à priori_."
(p. 182.) And again (pp. 191-2). "What, in these two foregoing
chapters, was proved true of Matter and Motion, is, _à fortiori_, true
of the Force out of which our conceptions of Matter and Motion are
built. Indeed, as we saw, that which is indestructible in matter and
motion, is the force they present. And, as we here see, the truth that
Force is indestructible, is the obverse of the truth that the Unknown
Cause of the changes going on in consciousness is indestructible.
So that the persistence of consciousness, constitutes at once our
immediate experience of the persistence of Force, and imposes on us the
necessity we are under of asserting its persistence.... Consciousness
without this or that particular _form_ is possible; but consciousness
without _contents_ is impossible."
We are also quite at one with Mr. Herbert Spencer as regards an
assertion made in his _Principles of Psychology_ (I. 161,) and
repeated, to shew how anti-materialistic he is, in his last book.
(_Essays_, III., p. 250.) "Of the two it seems easier to translate
so-called Matter into so-called Spirit, than to translate so-called
Spirit into so-called Matter, which latter is, indeed, wholly
impossible."
But though it is true, as he adds, that "no _translation_ can carry us
beyond our symbols," it is no less true that we are impelled to inquire
into that which underlies them. Mr. Spencer says further (_Psychology_
I. 162,) "The conditioned form under which Being is presented in the
Subject, cannot, any more than the conditioned form under which Being
is presented in the Object, be the Unconditioned Being common to the
two." In this negation we are less at one with him, for, as we firmly
believe, in that conditioned sphere we call our own subjective nature
there is a Reality presented to our consciousness by every act of
Volition which brings us far nearer than any objective or outside form
of existence can bring us to that Unconditioned Being which is common
to the two, and infinitely superior to them both.
[194] Spirit of Inductive Philosophy, p. 165.
[195] Ibid. pp. 169-170. "In the confined and literal notions, often
ignorantly entertained, of the sciences of observation, our conclusions
might be supposed restricted to the field of mere sensible experience;
and in this sense we should fall short of any worthy apprehension
of the Supreme Intelligence. But the truly inductive philosopher
extends his contemplation to intellectual conceptions of a higher
class, pointing to order and uniformity as constant and universal as
the extent of nature itself in space and in time; and in the same
proportion he recognises harmony and arrangement invested with the
attributes of universality and eternity, and thus derives his loftier
ideas of the Divine perfections."
[196] See Ravaisson (_La Philosophie en France_, p. 82,) for an account
of Comte's position in this particular. He characterizes it thus: "Du
positivisme physique superficiel il est arrivé au positivisme moral."
[av] Or else as some may prefer to state it, Mind _is_ the intelligible
law. In other words, Law is the manifestation and energizing of the
Mind in Nature, and we recognize mind in the energy of Law. Canon
Mozley spoke as follows in 1872. "There is a great deal said now about
Mind in Nature, and scientific men talk enthusiastically about Mind;
the old notion of chance is obsolete, and in spite of the strength of
a materialist school, there is a tendency to a consensus of scientific
men that there is Mind in the universe. Would any one in any public
meeting of scientific men dare to stand up and _deny_ that there was
Mind in Nature? It would be thought monstrous. It would be set down as
the revival of an old stupidity. It is the only form in which they find
they can speak of nature which at all ennobles it or which satisfies
their own idea of the sublimity of nature." _The Principle of Causation
considered in opposition to Atheistic Theories_, p. 41.
The learned writer goes on to connect this admitted idea of Mind with
the collateral idea of Design. And this is a most natural sequence of
thought. But, for reasons already mentioned, the main argument of this
chapter pursues another track. Mind in Nature being directly intuited,
(to use an expressive Kantian phrase) we supplement the evidence thus
given by a cross-examination of facts for the purpose of eliciting an
account of what manner of Intelligence this Mind in Nature must be.
[aw] "It is true," says Canon Mozley, "that matter has lately been set
before us as claiming more vicinity to mind than it has been usual to
assign it; and a scientific man, of the highest genius, has regretted
that 'mind and matter have ever been presented to us in the rudest
contrast--the one as all noble, the other as all vile.'... Hobbes,
in the 17th century, anticipated this claim, and laid down 'that all
matter as matter is endued not only with figure and a capacity of
motion, but also with an actual sense and perception, and wants only
the organs and memory of animals to express its sensations,'" _On
Causation_, as before, p. 38.
The doctrine of an inferior and irrational, or as some phrase it "a
blind intelligence" is the topic next discussed with some fulness in
our text.
This "blind intelligence" makes Nature, so to speak, "the instinct of
the Universe." Thence it is "no long step" to a belief that the world
is a living creature, neither are there wanting modern accounts of
the principle of Vitality, and its powers of assimilation,--equally
applicable to the accretive growth of a crystal.
The renovators of philosophy were (as Mr. Leslie Ellis remarks)
strongly inclined to this belief, its typical teacher being Campanella.
Leibniz points out with his usual energy its affinity with the
Scholastic doctrine of "substantial forms"--(a very different
theory from Bacon's) "formas quasdam substantiales ejusmodi sibi
imaginatus videtur, quæ per se sint causa motus in corporibus,
quemadmodum Scholastici capiunt;" and proceeds to say, "ita reditur
ad tot deunculos, quot formas substantiales, et Gentilem prope
polytheismum.... Quum tamen revera in natura nulla sit sapientia,
nullus appetitus, ordo vero pulcher ex eo oriatur, quia est horologium
Dei." _Leibnitii Opera Philosophica_, Ed. Erdmann, pp. 52-3.
[197] "Easiest" is here and elsewhere used to mean that which accounts
in the most natural and perfect manner alike for a single fact and for
the complex whole of facts presented to us. Such an "easiest account"
is the law of Gravitation--it is at once the simplest and the most
complete.
[198] _Fragments of Science_, p. 88.
[199] Struck it so truly that (to borrow Mr. Huxley's expression) a
sufficient Intelligence might have predicted the Universe. But what an
infinitude of knowledge would this "sufficiency" seem to presuppose!
[ax] Taking an optical structure of the Eye as a test example, the
chances of its Evolution _per accidens_ have been calculated by an
eminent mathematician. His results may be seen in the _Additional Note_
appended to this Chapter. They are extracted from the Hulsean Lectures
for 1867.
[ay] For example:--No one holds the doctrine of Natural Selection more
firmly than Mr. Wallace;--he is, in fact, known to have anticipated the
Darwinian theory of Evolution. But he also holds that Natural Selection
cannot account for certain of the physical peculiarities of Man; much
less for his consciousness, his language, his moral sense, or his
Volition.
Mr. Wallace maintains likewise that
(1) Atoms are centres of Force.
(2) Force is known to us as Will.
(3) The Will that governs the world is the Will of higher
intelligences or of one supreme Intelligence.
He quotes, as representing his own thought, the following lines from an
American poetess:--
"God of the Granite and the Rose!
Soul of the Sparrow and the Bee!
The mighty tide of Being flows
Through countless channels, Lord, from thee.
It leaps to life in grass and flowers,
Through every grade of being runs,
While from Creation's radiant towers
Its glory flames in Stars and Suns."
To the above-mentioned points Mr. Wallace adds a spiritualistic belief
in many sublime intelligences intermediate between the Deity and the
Universe. Compare _Natural Selection_, Ed. 2. Essay X. with Notes.
[az] That the perception of fitness, even when of the most exalted
kind, does not to some thinkers carry with it a perception of Design,
is plainly manifest from the ensuing paragraph:--
"The absurdity of the _à posteriori_ argument for a God consists in
the assumption that what we call order, harmony, and adaptation are
evidence of design, when it is evident that, _whether there be a God or
not, order, harmony, and adaptation must have existed from eternity,
and are not_ _therefore necessary proof of a designing cause_."
(_American Index_, Jan. 11, 1873.)
It is to be hoped that the writer of this rather strong statement had
insight enough to perceive that these eternal harmonizers of the whole
Universe do, in fact, constitute a self-existent Mind.
[ba] With perfect fairness, Professor Huxley admits the force of
this distinction. In a paragraph quoted p. 133, he wrote thus:--"It
is necessary to remember that there is a wider Teleology, which is
not touched by the doctrine of Evolution, but is actually based upon
the fundamental proposition of Evolution. That proposition is, that
the whole world, living and not living, is the result of the mutual
interaction, according to definite laws, of the forces possessed by
the molecules of which the primitive nebulosity of the universe was
composed. If this be true, it is no less certain that the existing
world lay, potentially, in the cosmic vapour; and that a sufficient
intelligence could, from a knowledge of the properties of the molecules
of that vapour, have predicted, say the state of the Fauna of Britain
in 1869, with as much certainty as one can say what will happen to the
vapour of the breath in a cold winter's day."
It is curious to compare Mr. Huxley's dictum on the Eye (cited p. 133)
with a passage before part-quoted from Mr. Newman. "In saying that
lungs _were intended_ to breathe, and eyes to see, we imply an argument
from Fitness to Design, which carries conviction to the overwhelming
majority of cultivated as well as uncultivated minds. Yet, in calling
it an argument, we may seem to appeal to the logical faculty; and
this would be an error. No syllogism is pretended, that _proves_ a
lung to have been made to breathe; but _we see it_ by what some call
Common-Sense, and some Intuition. If such a fact stood alone in the
universe, and no other existences spoke of Design, it would probably
remain a mere enigma to us; but when the whole human world is pervaded
by similar instances, not to see a Universal Mind in nature appears
almost a brutal insensibility; and if any one intelligently professes
Atheism, the more acute he is, the more distinctly we perceive that he
is deficient in the Religious Faculty. Just as, if he had no sense of
Beauty in anything, we should not imagine that we could impart it by
argument, so neither here.... No stress whatever needs here to be laid
upon minute anatomy, as, for instance, of the eye: it signifies not,
whether we do or do not understand its optical structure as a matter of
science. If it had _no_ optical structure at all, if it differed in no
respect (that we could discover) from a piece of marble, except that
it sees, this would not impair the reasons for believing that it _is
meant_ to see." _The Soul_, pp. 32-3.
This extract from Mr. Newman raises the question--Is an eminent
Biologist any better judge on the subject of _Design_, than any other
eminent thinker? Clearly he is a judge of _Fitness_, but that fact is
admitted on all sides;--the eyes of animals are practically fit for
seeing with, and, what is more, they are fitted to the special fields
of vision useful to their several owners. The first question is, Does
the fact of seeing or the fitness to see raise a moral certainty or
very strong probability of Design? And should a Biologist rejoin that
there exists another account of organic facts and fitnesses probable
and adequate; next comes the further inquiry, which is the most
probable, the most adequate, in a word the easiest? In this connection
it must likewise be asked with some urgency, what _non_-Biological
reasons there are for preferring Design? Whether for instance any good
reasons may be found for believing that there is somewhere subsisting
in and over the Natural world an Intelligence of such order as to be
capable of arranging fitness with a view to the harmony and general
co-operation of natural Forces?
The attempt has been made to shew cause on this side in the present
Chapter. Of course, the case for Design must be rendered unanswerable
if a certitude of Reason, either speculative or practical, or a very
strong conclusion of moral argument, or a probability outweighing all
other probabilities, shall in any way be shewn for accepting the still
nobler belief in a self-existent Will and Personality. Now this latter
idea is the subject of our two closing Chapters, and is contemplated
on grounds with which the Biologist or Physicist, quâ Biologist or
Physicist has no very special concern.
It seems plain, however, that when a great Biologist is pre-eminently a
philosophic thinker (as an author like Mr. Huxley must be acknowledged
by competent judges)--then he possesses a strong vantage ground, and
vast opportunities either for good or for evil. And these last six
words remind us to add with Mr. Newman that after all _subjective_
conditions must not be forgotten.
Would not a man without sense of the Beautiful be "colour-blind" to
many among the harmonies of Nature? And is there not something in the
"Religious insight" Mr. Newman speaks of which seems nothing less than
a gift of vision and faculty divine? Man thus endowed may be in the
highest sense Nature's interpreter, when he sees in her moving mirror
the reflected lineaments of his own and Nature's God. To such a mind no
idea can be more sublimely magnificent than the philosophic Teleology
which Mr. Huxley bases on Evolution; it seems to compress into one the
Past, the Present, and the Future; and to follow with winged thought
that glance of an omniscient Creator which tongues of men and angels
must for ever fail to describe.
We ought to add that the principle of Evolution has been defined in
more than one way. Some definitions would exclude the wide Teleologic
view. What is here meant might (to borrow Mr. Spencer's remark) be more
justly characterized as "INVOLUTION."
[200] Comparing the life of Humanity with the life of an individual,
and arguing for an all-pervading optimism as the general Law in both,
Littré observes, "Pas plus dans un cas que dans l'autre, ne sont
éliminées? _les maladies, les perturbations, les dérangements, en un
mot, tous les accidents qui interviennent dans le fonctionnement de
chaque loi_, et qui sont d'autant plus fréquents et plus graves que
la loi dont il s'agit gouverne des rapports plus compliqués et plus
élevés." _Paroles de Philosophie Positive_, p. 26. The italics are our
own.
[201] It is a curious problem to put testimony in the scale against
alleged necessities, regarding the course of Nature. A certain Eastern
prince had never seen ice--and obstinately rejected the idea of its
possible existence. Was he wise or unwise in his disbelief? Wise, if
we make the rule of actual experience our canon;--unwise if we admit
the rule of modification by unseen possibilities; and still more,
if we allow that a small amount of _affirmative_ testimony ought
in reason to outweigh a large amount of _negative_ presupposition,
or difficulty. A curious instance of this last rule is the natural
history of the duck-billed platypus (the ornithorynchus), rightly
called "_paradoxus_." The contradictory appearance of its organs
created a world of scepticism, when its history was first reported to
Naturalists. It was a question of improbability versus testimony;--and,
to use the established phrase, "every school boy" now knows that
Testimony was right. Compare Note (_c_) p. 264, _ante_.
[bb] How Bacon can have been pictured by his admirers as neither ideal,
nor metaphysical, seems to be one of those unintelligible mysteries
of idolatry which idol-worshippers cannot themselves explain. How
impossible it is on such a supposition to reconcile Bacon with himself
will appear evident to any informed reader of Mr. Ellis's Preface to
the Philosophical Works.
Bacon's tribute to Plato was just, as well as discriminating, and to
our purpose is most appropriate. He says (_De Augmentis_, III. 4)
"For Metaphysic, I have already assigned to it the inquiry of Formal
and Final Causes; which assignation, as far as it relates to Forms,
may seem nugatory; because of a received and inveterate opinion that
the Essential Forms or true differences of things cannot by any human
diligence be found out; an opinion which in the meantime implies and
admits that the invention of Forms is of all parts of knowledge the
worthiest to be sought, if it be possible to be found. And as for the
possibility of finding it, they are ill discoverers who think there is
no land where they can see nothing but sea. But it is manifest that
Plato, a man of sublime wit (and one that surveyed all things as from
a lofty cliff), did in his doctrine concerning Ideas descry that Forms
were the true object of knowledge; howsoever he lost the fruit of this
most true opinion by considering and trying to apprehend Forms as
absolutely abstracted from matter." This last path we have endeavoured
to avoid; and have ourselves elected to follow the Baconian precept,
and to treat the Law or Form of Production not logically, but as
seen in operation, and existent _in rerum naturâ_; not _in ordine ad
hominem_ but _in ordine ad Universum_.
What Bacon himself expected from the investigation, he states plainly
enough in continuation. "If we fix our eyes diligently seriously and
sincerely upon action and use, it will not be difficult to discern and
understand what those Forms are the knowledge whereof may wonderfully
enrich and benefit the condition of men.... This part of Metaphysic I
find deficient; whereat I marvel not, because I hold it not possible
that the Forms of things can be invented by that course of invention
hitherto used; the root of the evil, as of all others, being this: that
men have used to sever and withdraw their thoughts too soon and too far
from experience and particulars, and have given themselves wholly up to
their own meditation and arguments.
"But the use of this part of Metaphysic, which I reckon amongst the
deficient, is of the rest the most excellent in two respects; the
one, because it is the duty and virtue of all knowledge to abridge
the circuits and long ways of experience (as much as truth will
permit), and to remedy the ancient complaint that 'life is short and
art is long.'... For God is holy in the multitude of his works, holy
in the order or connexion of them, and holy in the union of them.
And therefore the speculation was excellent in Parmenides and Plato
(although in them it was but a bare speculation), 'that all things by
a certain scale ascend to unity.'" (_Ibid._ Ellis and Spedding, IV.
360-362.)
[bc] The Hulsean Lecturer before alluded to states this point with most
distinct emphasis. Speaking of the Eye as an optical instrument, he
says, "Here are _four_ conditions of things each utterly _independent_
of the others, viz. the nerve, then its non-reflecting coating, then
a transparent medium investing it, then a most remarkable _ether_
surrounding the whole, the concurrence of all four being essential
to the production of vision, nevertheless we are to believe that all
these adjustments and adaptations are accidentally made, retained
and handed down by inheritance. If there be not evidence here of the
selecting, arranging, controlling power of _mind_, will, forethought,
contrivance, then I feel that I have no evidence for the existence of
the individuality of my own being." _Analogies_, _etc._, p. 124.
[202] There is perhaps no familiar tribe in which the wonders of
this mechanical arrangement, can be more easily studied than in the
venerable family of owls.
[203] The stalk-eyed Crustacea are known to most readers through the
fascinating volume of Mr. Bell.
[204] _De Anima_, III. 1, 4. _Hist. Animal._, I. 9, IV. 8. The
structural eye is reduced to an ocellus.
[205] M. Le Court: see Geoffrey St. Hilaire, _Cours d'Histoire
Naturelle, des Mammifères_.
[206] One is glad of this result for Shakespeare's sake, as well as
Aristotle's; though a Warwickshire man might have been expected to know
the exact truth so far as his county is concerned; which Shakespeare
did not:--
"The blind mole casts
Copp'd hills towards heaven." (_Pericles_, I. 1.)
"Pray you tread softly that the blind mole may not
Hear a footfall." (_Tempest_, IV. 1.)
[207] The Proteus Anguinus has been rendered illustrious by Sir H.
Davy's _Consolations in Travel_. Since his time, living specimens have
been kept in England.
[208] The English reader will be charmed with the account of him in
Bell's _British Quadrupeds_.
[209] "In the organ of hearing in man we have first of all the external
orifice of the ear, which is closed at the bottom by the circular
tympanic membrane. Behind that membrane is the cavity called the drum
of the ear, this cavity being separated from the space between it
and the brain by a bony partition, in which there are two orifices,
the one round and the other oval. These orifices are also closed by
fine membranes. Across the cavity of the drum stretches a series of
four little bones: the first, called the _hammer_, is attached to the
tympanic membrane; the second, called the _anvil_, is connected by a
joint with the hammer; a third little round bone connects the anvil
with the _stirrup bone_, which has its oval base planted against the
membrane of the oval orifice above referred to. The base of the stirrup
bone abuts against this membrane, almost covering it, and leaving but
a narrow rim of the membrane surrounding the bone. Behind the bony
partition, and between it and the brain, we have the extraordinary
organ called the _labyrinth_, which is filled with water, and over the
lining membrane of which, the terminal fibres of the auditory nerve are
distributed. When the tympanic membrane receives a shock, that shock
is transmitted through the series of bones above referred to, and is
concentrated on the membrane against which the base of the stirrup
bone is planted. That membrane transfers the shock to the water of the
labyrinth, which, in its turn, transfers it to the nerves.
"The transmission, however, is not direct. At a certain place within
the labyrinth exceedingly fine elastic bristles, terminating in sharp
points, grow up between the terminal nerve fibres. These bristles,
discovered by Max Schultze, are eminently calculated to sympathise with
those vibrations of the water which correspond to their proper periods.
Thrown thus into vibration, the bristles stir the nerve fibres which
lie between their roots, and excite audition. At another place in the
labyrinth we have little crystalline particles called _otolithes_--the
Hörsteine of the Germans--embedded among the nervous filaments, and
which, when they vibrate, exert an intermittent pressure upon the
adjacent nerve fibres, thus exciting audition. The otolithes probably
subserve a different purpose from that fulfilled by the bristles of
Schultze. They are fitted, by their weight, to accept and prolong
the vibrations of evanescent sounds, which might otherwise escape
attention. The bristles of Schultze, on the contrary, because of their
extreme lightness, would instantly yield up an evanescent motion,
while they are eminently fitted for the transmission of continuous
vibrations. Finally, there is in the labyrinth a wonderful organ,
discovered by the Marchese Corti, which is to all appearance a musical
instrument, with its chords so stretched as to accept vibrations
of different periods, and transmit them to the nerve filaments
which traverse the organ. Within the ears of men, and without their
knowledge or contrivance, this lute of 3,000 strings has existed for
ages, accepting the music of the outer world, and rendering it fit
for reception by the brain. Each musical tremor which falls upon this
organ selects from its tensioned fibres the one appropriate to its own
pitch, and throws that fibre into unisonant vibration. And thus, no
matter how complicated the motion of the external air may be, those
microscopic strings can analyse it and reveal the constituents of which
it is composed." Tyndall. _On Sound_, pp. 323-4 and 5. We may add that
the "fine elastic bristles," mentioned by Dr. Tyndall, are known to be
prolongations of the free ends of the epithelial cells. The _other_
ends of these cells--(_i.e._ the deep or attached ends) are delicately
ramified, and are said to be in connection with slender nerve-fibrils.
[210] _E.g._, Coleridge. "I have at this moment before me, in the
flowery meadow, on which my eye is now reposing, one of its most
soothing chapters, in which there is no lamenting word, no one
character of guilt or anguish. For never can I look and meditate on
the vegetable creation without a feeling similar to that with which we
gaze at a beautiful infant that has fed itself asleep at its mother's
bosom, and smiles in its strange dream of obscure yet happy sensations.
The same tender and genial pleasure takes possession of me, and this
pleasure is checked and drawn inward by the like aching melancholy,
by the same whispered remonstrance, and made restless by a similar
impulse of aspiration. It seems as if the soul said to herself: From
this state hast _thou_ fallen! Such shouldst thou still become, thyself
all permeable to a holier power! thyself at once hidden and glorified
by its own transparency, as the accidental and dividuous in this quiet
and harmonious object is subjected to the life and light of nature;
to that life and light of nature, I say, which shines in every plant
and flower, even as the transmitted power, love and wisdom of God over
all fills, and shines through, nature! But what the plant is, by an
act not its own and unconsciously--_that_ must thou make thyself to
_become_--must by prayer and by a watchful and unresisting spirit, join
at least with the preventive and assisting grace to make thyself, in
that light of conscience which inflameth not, and with that knowledge
which puffeth not up!" _Statesman's Manual._ Appendix B. pp. 267, 8.
Ed. 1839.
CHAPTER VI.
CAUSATION.
"Chidhar, the Prophet ever-young
Thus loosed the bridle of his tongue.
"I journeyed by a goodly Town,
Beset with many a garden fair,
And asked of one who gathered down
Large fruit, 'how long the Town was there
He spoke, nor chose his hand to stay,
'The town has stood for many a day,
And will be here for ever and aye.'
"A thousand years passed by and then
I went the self-same road again.
"No vestige of that Town I traced,--
But one poor swain his horn employed,--
His sheep unconscious browsed and grazed,
I asked 'when was that Town destroyed?'
He spoke, nor would his horn lay by,
'One thing may grow and another die,
But I know nothing of Towns--not I.'
"A thousand years went on and then
I passed the self-same place again.
"There in the deep of waters cast
His nets one lonely fisherman,
And as he drew them up at last
I asked him 'how that Lake began?'
He looked at me and laughed to say,
'The waters spring for ever and aye,
And fish is plenty every day.'
"A thousand years passed by and then
I went the self-same road again.
"I found a country wild and rude,
And, axe in hand, beside a tree,
The Hermit of that Solitude,--
I asked 'how old that Wood might be?'
He spoke, 'I count not time at all,
A tree may rise, a tree may fall,
The Forest overlives us all,'
"A thousand years went on and then
I passed the self-same place again.
"And there a glorious City stood,
And 'mid tumultuous market-cry,
I asked 'Where rose the Town? where Wood
Pasture and Lake forgotten lie?'
They heard me not, and little blame,--
For them the world is as it came,
And all things must be still the same.
"A thousand years shall pass, and then
I mean to try that road again."
Lord Houghton, _after Rückert_.
"What a modern talks of by the name, Forces of Nature, Laws of Nature;
and does not figure as a divine thing; not even as one thing at all,
but as a set of things, undivine enough,--saleable, curious, good for
propelling steam-ships! With our Sciences and Cyclopædias, we are apt
to forget the _divineness_, in those laboratories of ours. We ought
not to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not what else were
worth remembering."--Carlyle. _Heroes_.
"Two worlds, the one intellectual, the other sensual, were equally
given to us from the beginning, and all attempts to deduce them from
one principle (except the Deity) have failed."--Von Feuchtersleben.
"What am I? how produced? and for what end?
Whence drew I being? to what period tend?
Am I th' abandon'd orphan of blind chance?
Dropped by wild atoms in disorder'd dance?
Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,
And of unthinking substance, born with thought?
By motion which began without a Cause,
Supremely wise, without design or laws."--Arbuthnot.
"Pouvoir c'est vouloir."--_Guesses at Truth._
"If only once weird Time had rent asunder
The curtain of the Clouds, and shown us Night
Climbing into the awful Infinite
Those stairs whose steps are worlds, above and under,
Glory on glory, wonder upon wonder!...
"Ah! sure the heart of Man, too strongly tried
By Godlike Presences so vast and fair,
Withering with dread, or sick with love's despair,
Had wept for ever, and to Heaven cried,
Or struck with lightnings of delight had died!
"But he, though heir of Immortality,
With mortal dust too feeble for the sight,
Draws thro' a veil God's overwhelming light;
Use arms the Soul--anon there moveth by
A more majestic Angel--and we die!"
Frederick Tennyson.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER VI.
The two last Chapters are intended to be read consecutively, but are
formally separated in order to mark the transition of Argument. If
this is borne in mind, and the line of thought pursued continuously,
there will appear to be little need for further elucidation.
The main object of the present Chapter is to distinguish the physical
chain of Sequency from Causation properly so termed. In other words to
divide the World, as we see it, into two spheres; the Mechanical and
the Personal.
The former is characterized by invariable Sequency. The latter by
Causation, and by causal interference with the mechanical chain of
antecedent and consequent.
Inferences are drawn from these contrasted facts.
_Analysis._--Causation not explained by any of the empirical sciences.
Time accounts for nothing. Explicit statements of scientific men on
the subject. "Inquire elsewhere." This is one good reason for the
study of Natural Theology.
Only one kind of true Cause known to us by Experience. Distinction
between a true Cause and the invariable antecedent of an invariable
consequent. Antecedent enters Chain of natural sequency; Cause does
not. Cause must account for the several links of Chain, for the
connection between those links, and for the entire Chain considered
as a Whole and Unity in Nature. This position illustrated and
investigated. How grasped by the young mind. Its verification.
Known facts of Causation result in the Unknowable; a condition which
attaches to the most certain of all truths. Personality a case in
point. Another case that of alterations caused by Volition in chains
of Natural Sequency. Common-sense allowances made for this last fact.
Application _à fortiori_ to the Divine Personality. Presumption for
miracles; its nature and limits. Intervention does not destroy Order
and Unity. Hence we distinguish two possible kinds of Evidence, from,--
1. General Order of World.
2. Occasional variation.
Both leading up to a Supreme causal Personality.
CHAPTER VI.
CAUSATION.
This sixth Chapter occupies a totally different sphere of Thought from
the one preceding it. Instead of examining the world as it now is, we
shall inquire what its present existence necessarily presupposes. Time,
in the ordinary meaning of the word, is no factor in our calculation.
We have to deal with Time's antecedents.
These words sound like a long farewell to our companion and
auxiliary,--Natural Science! Geology, Palæontology, Astronomy, are
unanimous in telling us of periods immeasurably remote. But, they are
all silent on two more distant and profound subjects--a Beginning
and an Eternity. In the world best known to us, vast cycles--each
comprehending many ages of life--- point back to preceding cycles made
up of ages more numerous still, during which the world was absolutely
void of life. Upon that primæval fabric, are graved long records of
changes beyond the reach of Thought. A single epoch,--the era when our
globe, an incandescent mass of matter, was cooling in its flight,--is
alone sufficient to exhaust all our imaginative powers. Did water
first surround the glowing orb as a heated vapour? Did clouds first
descend upon it like a fiery rain-storm? Suppose some sentient creature
floating through ether to look upon the unformed world,--how wild, how
weird must have been the spectacle! How different from what earth and
ocean may appear to any similar Intelligence now.
Science discoursing upon such topics is more poetical than the most
sublime poetry. And the science that does speak of them is the widest
of all sciences, After certain cycles of ages, the Biologist hands us
over to the Mineralogist and the Chemist. After certain other cycles,
we give up those guides in turn; and gauge nature by measuring mass,
speed, force, comparing our own orb with kindred orbs, and trying to
collect what the comparison can say respecting the earliest conditions
of the Universe. But, all this is no answer to our proposed question
concerning Time's antecedents. "The territory of physics" says a
well-known physicist, "is wide, but it has its limits from which we
look with vacant gaze into the region beyond."[211] And these words
are evidently true. Time serves, in this respect, as the index of our
incapacity. We travel back from the period of Man to the period of a
ferny coal field, a trilobite or an Eozoon, and from thence to the
period when nebulous light-masses shone out through illimitable space.
No doubt, when we have learned to contemplate such vapoury states
of attenuated matter, we have learned a great deal. Modern analysis
finds in them the elementary constituents of our own planetary system;
the same elements which glow with greater apparent brilliancy in our
Sun. But this is not all. To the sober eye of science, those fires,
which burned before stars were kindled, display in their splendours
materials entering into the composition of our transitory frames;
materials required continually by our bodies and by our productive
arts. We live, if modern science may be trusted, by the assimilation of
elements now shining in the celestial sphere; elements which glittered
there through long cycles of ages before our Earth was. And we employ
the same elements in the common industries of civilisation.[212] This
bewildering thought seems to link us with that Sun, which is the glory
of our day, with those wandering lamps which make night beautiful; and
with all the hosts of heaven, which have always fascinated the upward
gaze of man, and have sometimes won his heart to worship them.
The more overwhelming these thoughts appear, the grander is the
emphasis of our yet unanswered question. We have seen that we are able
to travel backwards--not in fancy, but in reason--from era to era,
however incalculable the measurement of each era may be; and, when
our travels have reached their utmost goal, we find the marvellous
Continuity of Nature still unbroken. And this very fact, is, in itself,
a sufficient proof that we have not approached Time's antecedents.
What we have really done, is to carry the Present with us into an
immeasurably distant Past. We know not yet what is presupposed by
both,--we cannot say what went before them.
It is _very_ important for us to be thoroughly clear upon the result.
For there is a sort of unreflecting idea afloat, that if vast periods
of Time are conceived, the whole Universe is conceived also. All seems
explained, since everything may come to pass in Time! So it may, in
_one_ sense. Time gives opportunity; but then there must be a moving
power[213] to work _in_ the opportunity. Let it therefore be distinctly
borne in mind, that Time causes nothing. To dispense with a spring of
action, is to imagine that Time will stop the river's flow, or that the
river will stop without a cause in time:--
"Rusticus expectat, dum defluat amnis; at ille
Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum."
In reality, Time accounts neither for good nor for evil, neither for
the end nor yet for the beginning of any single work.
And the same is true respecting any chain, however long, made up of
antecedents and consequents, however numerous. We see in them movements
propagating movements; but then we are obliged to ask, what moved the
first of them? The reader may remember Professor Huxley's picture of
a cosmic vapour, from a knowledge of which a sufficient Intelligence
might have predicted our present world. Looking further, we find this
cosmic vapour to be composed (as he says) of molecules possessing
forces or properties; in other words, what he really described was a
potential Universe; not a Cause, but an already caused production.
What, then, caused it?
It was not the Professor's business,--nor is it the business of any
Physiologist or of any Physicist, to explain what lies beyond the
territories of his science. Consequently he does _not_ account for the
existence of this "primitive nebulosity." The "sufficient Intelligence"
is only spoken of a possible interpreter or prophet. And Professor
Huxley is right and wise in his reticence.
Professor Tyndall is equally wise and right in telling us that "Science
knows much of this intermediate phase of things that we call nature,
of which it is the product; but science knows nothing of the origin or
destiny of nature."[214]
There is always a rightness and wisdom in stating a limit, and an
issue, _distinctly_. No one endowed with clearness of vision, will
think the Universe as likely to be adequately accounted for by an
eternal nebula, as by an eternity of Mind. No one will exactly state
to himself, the meaning of such words as Chance, Time, Law, and others
of a like description; and, with those meanings _in remembrance_,
pronounce that any or all of them can explain the origin of anything.
But by popular lecturers and article-makers, immeasurable series of
conditions are sometimes mentioned in a manner which almost implies
that, because immeasurable, the speaker or writer supposes that such
conditions may possibly be creative.
Any reader of current literature will scarcely need reminding, that
most modern _savants_ usually acquiesce in, and feel burdened by, a
sense of "the Inscrutable." And therefore, when summing up the results
of scientific truth, they honestly and consistently reduce their
disciples to an _alternative_,--an alternative of which no disciple of
any special science ought reasonably to complain. Choose, they tell
him, between confessing, "here is the Incomprehensible--here I rest;"
or, if you please, endeavouring to "find other means of knowledge,
which we do _not_ pretend to furnish." This is no more than to say, and
say fairly, "Be satisfied with such information as we can give,--or,
if you please, inquire elsewhere." And this seems reasonable; for
who would assert that a Professor of Poetry ought to give competent
instruction in the Calculus?
We may assume that every student of Natural Theology has made up his
mind to "inquire elsewhere." And it is the part of an earnest man so
to do. Were not the Future linked to the Present, we all might feel
less earnest, less persevering, less anxious for inquiry. Yet, if
there be a Future beyond our Present, we at once perceive a weight of
reason beyond all powers of estimate, _why_ such a connecting chain
must certainly exist. All our experience, every argument from analogy,
and all morality, fall into one and the same scale. But of this, more
hereafter. There is no doubt that our wisdom and our duty coincide with
our natural instincts, in bringing us to this resolution. We may not
be able to learn _all_ we could wish of that Future which follows our
present; but what we can truly learn is to us a treasure beyond price.
Let us, therefore, proceed as fellow-pilgrims in the search.
It is an undeniable fact--one amongst the hard and actual facts which
life teaches--that, in the whole of our experience, we never know of
more than one kind of cause,--a cause, that is, in the true sense
of _originating_ any event or series of events. Nothing can be more
certain as respects our knowledge of the material world. From this
point of view, Sir J. Herschel describes Brown's book on "Cause and
Effect" as "a work of great acuteness and subtlety of reasoning on
some points, but in which the whole train of argument is vitiated
by one enormous oversight; the omission, namely, of a _distinct and
immediate personal consciousness of causation_ in his enumeration of
that _sequence of events_, by which the volition of the mind is made to
terminate in the motion of material objects. I mean the consciousness
of _effort_, accompanied with _intention thereby_ to accomplish an
end, as a thing entirely distinct from mere _desire_ or _volition_ on
the one hand, and from mere spasmodic contraction of muscles on the
other."[215]
This causation we experience continually. A heavy stone falls from
a wall, and kills a man. No one threw it. We say it fell--or, as a
physicist might express it, obeyed the law of gravitation. But we may
remember that from the tower of Thebez "a certain woman cast a piece
of a millstone upon Abimelech's head and all to break his scull." We
form quite a different opinion of this event. We say, here is a case
in which "the volition of the mind is made to terminate in the motion
of a material object." Some might accuse, others excuse, the woman of
Thebez; but all would argue that she caused the death of Abimelech.
Your boy wants to beat a chair which has fallen upon him; you tell him
why he must not, and all you say is sound philosophy. He also wants to
kill his cat for devouring his canary bird; and again you philosophize
correctly. But, suppose your young philosopher for his own pleasure
wrings his canary bird's neck? The chair fell by mechanical law--the
cat obeyed the law of her hungry instinct--but your boy is culpable. He
was the true cause of his own cruel act,--in a word he was responsible.
And this same truth of Causation, involved in Responsibility, and
constituting one of its necessary factors, is like Mind in Mr. Mill,--a
truth which we _must_ accept--inexplicable, but unquestionably real.
We _know_ that Will is a Cause,--and we do _not_ actually know of
any other cause in the wide Universe. The fact comes home to us in a
variety of ways. Was Thurtell the cause or the physical antecedent of
Weare's death? If not the cause, we ought never to think him, or any
murderer, slaver, torturer, or tyrant, at all in the wrong; neither can
we hold them in any manner responsible.
Let the reader put this case to himself in as many different shapes as
he can. The result will always come to the same issue. We may suppose
a Nebula, Law, Force, so arranged as to be the physical antecedent of
a world. And nothing can be more marvellous than the idea of such an
arrangement! But we cannot imagine any existence really causing an
effect, save one,--a Will. Therefore, if we wish to go beyond Nebula,
Law, or Force, which are merely physical antecedents,--and ask what
caused one or all of them, we are obliged (so far as we are disciples
of experience) to say their Cause was a Will. And when we say this, we
allege _a sufficient reason_.
A few paragraphs back, we availed ourselves of the authoritative
verdict pronounced by scientific thinkers, on the question of what is,
and what is not, from their point of view, knowable. And we saw _where_
physics terminated,--that is, in a _Nebula_. This is their _limit_.
Yet, there is nothing to hinder a physicist from becoming also a
Natural Theologian. It is not every man who will rest in a negative
conclusion. Professor Baden Powell was among the malcontents in this
respect; and we desire now to quote from his writings some passages
referred to in the argument of a former Chapter.
But before doing so, it would be unfair to conceal that a tribute of
gratitude appears due to writers who mark the boundary of their own
thought, however little we ourselves desire to stay acquiescently
within its limitations. There is honesty in their act;--there is an
incitement for other men to try out their lines of thinking also.
Finally, all such writers are unexceptionable witnesses to the interest
and reality belonging to a separate science of Natural Theology. In
all these respects, they occupy a totally different position from
the indifferentist or sneering sceptic; and it would be injustice
to confound such broad distinctions of moral aspect. With this
acknowledgment let us return to Baden Powell.
In his "Connexion of Natural and Divine Truth"[216] he writes thus:--
"The study of _physical causes_ (understood _in the simple meaning_
which we have before endeavoured to fix,) while it supplies the
unassailable evidence of design and adjustment, as unavoidably
carries us thence onward to the idea of an Intelligence from which
that design emanated, and of an agency by which that adjustment
was produced. It brings us, in a word, to recognise an influence
of another kind, of an order _different from_, and far above that
of _physical causes_ or material action:--to acknowledge a sublime
_moral cause_, the universally operating source of creative power and
providential wisdom.[bd]... We have already noticed, in other cases,
the ambiguities arising from the diversity of meaning attached to the
same term "cause." Here, then, it becomes more peculiarly necessary if
we adopt the popular expression, "the First Cause," to recur carefully
to the distinction, if we would preserve any clearness of reasoning.
"We refer to senses of the term absolutely distinct _in kind_. Nor
is it a term of mere verbal difference. It is of importance, whether
in guarding against fallacies in evidence or in answering the cavils
of scepticism.... When we ascend to the contemplation of creative
intelligence, the distinction is not between a prior and a subsequent
train of material action, but between _physical order_ and _moral
volition_. It will thus be apparent that the metaphor so often used
of the _chain_ of natural causes _whose last and highest link_ is its
immediate connexion with the Deity;--the very phrase of a succession
of _secondary_ causes traced up to a _first cause_,--and the like, (so
commonly employed,) are founded on a totally mistaken analogy.
"If we retain such metaphorical language at all, it would be a more
just mode of speaking to describe the Deity as the Divine artificer
of the whole chain,--not to connect Him with its links;--to represent
the secondary causes as combined into joint operation by His power and
will,--but not to make Him one of them." And again;--"If we require
the aid of metaphor in attempting to give utterance to those vast
conceptions with which the mind is overpowered, instead of speaking of
the first and secondary links in a chain of causation, and the like,
let us rather recur to the analogy of the _arch_ (before introduced,)
and we shall be adopting at once a more just and expressive figure,
and shall here run no risk of speaking as if we confounded the stones
with the builder,--their mutually supporting force with the skill of
the architect who adjusted them."[217]
What Baden Powell called "physical causation," is now more commonly
known as invariable antecedency, or invariable succession. Antecedents
and consequents are phenomena of the natural world,--and the connection
between them is their _Law_.
Now, suppose we take the Alphabet to represent a series of these
antecedents and consequents, the latter invariably following the
former; it does not, (as far as argument goes,) in the least
signify what the series really is, any more than when we calculate
algebraically. But to make things plain, let the Alphabet represent
26 cycles of succession; each cycle containing as many millions of
years, or ages, as you choose to grant for the duration of the Natural
Universe. We may state the problem thus,--the _law_ of succession being
assumed in our series as constant.
If we have Z, there certainly must have been Y, and _conversely_;--
If there were no Y, there cannot possibly be Z. We go on,--
If Y, then certainly X;
If no X, then Y is impossible.
As we know Z in fact, we get back to Y; and, as we find Y, we
retrogress to X.
And the retrogression continues, say till we reach B,--
If B, certainly A;
If no A, then B is impossible.
But, what are we to say of A?
If A then certainly--_what_?
If no _what_?--then A is impossible.
It does not signify how far the chain of physical law may extend.
From its very essence and definition, you must arrive finally at a
first link. Or, in other words, the Continuity of Nature may go back
through Time immeasurable,--Time will after all lead you to Time's
antecedents. And when you have arrived at your first link, and inquire
_what_ must necessarily have preceded Time, it is well to consider the
_sort_ of account which alone you can accept, _because_ it alone will
_sufficiently_ satisfy your reason.
You want, then, something which properly accounts first for A; _next_
for the link between A and B; and _thirdly_, by consequence, for the
whole Alphabet.
If, with this statement in mind, the reader turns back to the extracts
made from Powell, he will see the force of several points strongly
put by the Professor. He will see, for example, how inevitably
_physical_ causation carries us back to _another_, and very _diverse_
Causation,--diverse in _kind_--not simply different in degree. Also,
how the idea of Cause in this latter sense, takes us quite _out_ of the
physical nexus. And, further, that the only admissible Conception of
a First Universal Cause, must be a conception of something which will
not only bring about A, but likewise _account_ for the entire series,
linked together and consecutive, into one resulting _Whole_. For the
Whole itself; in brief for the Many and the One.
We have now to ask further, what Facts can tell us respecting these two
kinds of Causation. And let us again employ our letters, but rather in
a different way.
Suppose P stands for a fact, which may also be described as a natural
phenomenon. To account for P we go back to O, retrogress to N, M, and
so on, as shewn already.
Again, suppose another fact which cannot be described as a natural
phenomenon. Let us try whether P may, with equal propriety, stand for a
human production or performance. That is--whether, instead of being a
mere _phenomenal_ fact, it may also be spoken of as an _act_.
We want then to account for P, _thus_ considered. A striking
circumstance appears at once evident, that to find the "_why_" of human
activity we do not look to any antecedent;--we look to a _consequent_,
or a series of consequences. The question we ask is,--with what _view_
P became an act? In other words, we try to account for P, _not_ by _O_,
_N_, _M_, etc., but by _Q_, _R_, _S_, etc. For example: let P represent
a murder. The crime was done for the sake of money, and for things
which money will purchase; that is, the _consequents_,--_Q_, _R_, _S_,
and so on, forming a series designed;--gains and purposes, long or
short. But, no one would say that _another_ series _foregoing_ (O, N,
M) _necessitated the act_;--that they were the _certain antecedents
of a necessary consequent_ (P) _the murder_. If it were so, we should
have to congratulate the murderer for having been _forced_ into so
profitable a performance, and we should also have to leave him in the
peaceable enjoyment of his profits.
Acts, therefore,--or _volitional_ facts--move _forwards_ through
a series of _consequents_; while phenomena--that is, _physical_
facts--run backwards through a series of _antecedents_.
If pressed to find a Cause for an act, we are never in a position to
say,--
If P, then certainly O;
If no O, then P is impossible.
We say, on the contrary, that the _Cause_ of the act was
_Volitional_,--that is, it was done by an _agent or person acting_. And
further, that the _consequents_ (Q, R, S, etc.) represent the _purpose_
of the actor or agent, and that he is responsible for having adopted
them as his prevalent motives or inducements.
But from these necessities of thought which hold alike as abstract
truths, and in practical experience, several inferences follow:--
A volitional cause or agent, may stand before a series of
consequents;--but cannot be ranged after such a series.
Our series represented by the Alphabet, was taken to be a series of
_invariable sequency_. That is, each factor (letter) presupposed
antecedents, which _necessitated_ every factor in succession. Therefore
we cannot represent any agent or volitional Cause, by an element (or
letter) of that series at all. Nor yet his act. It follows on no such
chain of antecedents. It is done _in view_ of certain consequents.
If, therefore, we ask what can be conceived respecting the causation of
the Universe,--its cause must (as Powell says), be placed absolutely
outside and prior to the whole series. In other words,--a volitional
or First cause can never belong to the physical chain of antecedent
and consequent, bound together by natural law. And the reason is
plain: in no true sense can such Cause ever be a necessary consequent
at all. Such a Cause calls into existence, not only A, but the whole
consecutive alphabet, representing cycles of millions of ages. Not the
world's primæval state alone,--- but the whole law-connected Universe.
Thus, First Cause, and Secondary cause, apply not to difference of
sequency alone,--but to an _intrinsic and essential distinction_. And,
this distinction is so vast, that between the World's First Cause, and
any given Secondary cause, there is fixed a gulf of separation as wide
as the whole potential Universe.
Another way of looking at the subject of Causation may appear simpler
to some minds.
Let the reader recal the problems of Idealism and Realism already
discussed. He will also remember what Mr. Masson calls "the paramount
result" to Mill and Hamilton alike;--the inevitable persuasion all men
have of their own distinctness from an external world of things and
persons surrounding them.
With this accepted result in remembrance, let the reader ask himself
the further question, _how_ he became originally impressed with the
grand division of that world of objectivity,--how he first separated
_Persons_ from _Things_? He will account for the conception in some
such way as this:--As a child, he was injured both by his nurse and
his nursery table. He discovered that the table had been placed where
it stood; but that his nurse struck him with a passionate intention
of compelling him to obey her, against his own will. And, thus, in
the succession of little troubles and events perpetually going on,
he learned to distinguish them all into two broad classes: events
dependent on previous circumstances, such as the position of the
table; and events productive of intentional consequences, such as the
ill temper of his nurse. The first class of events he could _control_
by a change of outside conditions;--he could either move the table
or keep his body out of its way. But, the nurse he had to humour and
conciliate; and he soon found, to his cost, that very often his efforts
to win her favour were unavailing, because her temper was so very, very
bad. And this whole process of Childish reasoning became confirmed
in after life by his practical reason, and verified by finding it
work well every day. The child who thus ceases to blame the table for
hurting him, but blames the temper of the nurse, is the "father of the
Man," who praises or blames only when he discovers a true _cause_; and
steadily ascribes _Causation_ to a _Will_. And, employ what words we
choose, this causative power is the grand tenable distinction between
Persons and Things. And no amount of refined theory will ever induce us
to act upon any other supposition. We remain fixed in our belief that a
true Cause must, without exception, be always a true Personality.
It is worth while observing, likewise, with what emphasis of words,
mankind marks its sense of this fact. We all say that we see such and
such a _cause_,--or such and such a _will_ at work. And the energy of
expression is justified by analysis. For, when we see an orange or a
cathedral, what we really perceive through our eye, may be summed as
coloured surface, outline, light and shade. And seeing this, we say
that we see the _solid_;--that is, seeing effects, we maintain that we
see the cause. Moreover, this is true, if we remember that seeing is a
compound process; the eye of the mind looking _through_ the eye of the
body. And we ventured to use the same language in our last chapter, and
also to justify it, when we spoke of seeing the Intelligible. The man,
therefore, is not far wrong who says that he sees God everywhere.
Look at the subject in whatever point of view we will,--as an abstract
question--as a calculable problem--or an affair of plain common
sense,--the result must finally come to one and the same thing. There
can be no Cause,--no First to stand before (not in) the series of
sequences, except a Being, Will, Personality.
Now as a matter of truth, there must necessarily exist some sufficient
account of the Universe. Physical Science is right to speak of it as
unknowable[218] by Physical investigation. It cannot lie _in_ the
physical series,--it must stand _prior_ to the whole. It admits of no
antecedent; but the sum of all existence is its consequent. Therefore,
the sufficient account is a first Being, Will, and Personality. We
must accept the result and acknowledge its truth, because it is an
inevitable fact, if the question is argued upon the ground of other
facts practically known, and not of theory, conjecture, or supposed
possibilities. But it involves theoretical difficulties which we must
acknowledge to be inexplicable. We cannot, however, forget that many
other truths and matters of fact are inexplicable also.[219]
A circumstance equally true, and equally incapable of theoretical
explanation, may be stated as follows. If we revert, once more, to our
representative letters of the alphabet, it will be recollected that
the letter P was taken to represent a crime,--a murder for the sake of
gain. P had for its consequents _Q_, _R_, _S_, but did not depend on
the antecedents _O_, _N_, _M_; it was introduced extraneously into the
series. In other words, the crime entailed a number of _effects_, which
had in reality been premeditated by the murderer; while, _in itself_,
it was to be _accounted_ for only as the act of a Volitional Cause or
Agent. And the remarkable point to us now, is the circumstance that
such a _designed series of events_ can thus be introduced into the
order of nature by _man's spontaneous choice_. These determinations
are in fact alterations in the ordinary course of Nature; and
contradictions of its absolutely invariable sequency.[be] This fact,
again, appears to be theoretically inexplicable, yet is practically
true; and we _verify_ its truth by determinations of the deepest
interest and importance to our individual selves. Sometimes, men almost
stand aghast at the consequences of choosing obstinately; and, through
years of sorrow, accuse their own, and their friends' pertinacity.
Possibly, the difficulty in theory may be in some degree softened by
the admissions of physical philosophers,--inventors and craftsmen
of all sorts,--respecting the considerable _allowance_ to be made
for "functioning" their abstract calculations. The necessity of such
allowance distinctly proves, that, even in the most exact of applied
sciences, pure theory and practical result do not commonly coincide.
And, when we look to the concerns of human society, it must be
confessed that no amount of sovereign power, insight of statesmen, or
experience grounded on precedent or on knowledge of mankind, does away
with the absolute necessity of allowing what is called a "_margin_"
for the actual working of any law, scheme, contrivance, or political
constitution. Speculative people are apt to find this truth verified to
their cost and disappointment; and, perhaps, one reason for the general
success of English administrators in government and colonization,
is their habit of making _very large_ allowances throughout all the
practical arrangements. In managing the world, they consider the
_non-calculable_ element of Will,--and allow for the way in which it
breaks in, with sometimes tremendous effect, upon the otherwise regular
current of affairs.
But if this be true of the _human_ Will, what ought to be said
of the _Divine_? If we, with our limited power and understanding, can
thus interrupt many series of events in our world, what shall we say
concerning the Volitional Cause of the whole Universe? Concerning a
Personality, which was before the chain of phenomenal antecedent and
consequent began, and Which (as we have shewn must hold true of a First
Cause), actually willed the whole _as a whole_, and arranged the end
from the beginning? Recurring to our selected figure of the Alphabet,
this primary Will, this incomprehensible Person is, in our view, the
Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End, and beside Him there is
none other.[220]
So far, therefore, as a consideration of the world goes, and of mankind
as existing in the world, arguments from analogy would lead to some
positive expectation of Miracles. Our belief in the Uniformity of
Nature does not exclude them; and our practical experience gives rise
to a _probability_ of their occurrence. When, however, we lift up
our eyes to the Divine Mind as Supreme Reason, Miracles appear to us
inconceivable without an adequate occasion. For we ourselves strive
to act on _true_, _fitting_, and _reasonable_ grounds of purpose; and
shall we think less of Him, "Who teacheth Man knowledge"? But to pursue
this last topic as it deserves, would carry us away from the domain of
Natural Theology, and into that of Theology true and proper.
Our business has lain with the Natural world, human nature itself
included. And in examining the successional chain, we have perceived
that it is not forged of Adamant. Yet there is so much connection and
unity running throughout it, that we may with the greatest justice
speak of the _order_ and _course_ of nature. And, perhaps the _highest_
kind of evidence to the being and attributes of God conceivable by
us, lies in the concurrence of _two_ separate kinds of proof; both
resting on the reality of Divine _causation_ viewed _relatively_ to
the World we inhabit. The one,--when we trace (as in this Chapter we
have shewn that men ought to trace), the chain of natural sequence
up to a Personal First Cause. The other,--when we find reason to
believe that the First Cause and Creator of the world, has seen fit to
interfere with its orderly course in a manner which distinguishes His
intervention from our common every-day experience.
For such intervention, _we_ could probably conceive no greater fitness,
no nobler occasion, than the purpose of raising Men above themselves,
and assuring them that there are more things in Heaven and Earth than
are dreamed of in their Philosophies. And what human dream, vision, or
philosophy, could ever have foreseen the things which God hath prepared
for them that love Him?
FOOTNOTES:
[211] Tyndall's _Earlier Thoughts_; in his _Essays_, p. 72. Dr. Tyndall
is never weary of repeating this useful truth, and we may honour him
for so doing. The following references are to his last very popular
work, and in each place the same thought will be found differently
expressed according to the difference of subject-matter. _Fragments of
Science_, pp. 93, 105, 121, 163, 442.
[212] George Stephenson used to watch the speed of his locomotive, and
pleasantly remark that he was utilizing the solar heat of the great
coal-period. The words were his own. The idea was Herschel's.
[213] "Time is no agent, as some people appear to think it, that it
should accomplish anything of itself. Looking at a heap of stones
for a thousand years, will do no more toward making a house of them,
than looking at it for one moment. The cause is obvious. Time, when
applied to works of any kind, being only a succession of relevant acts,
each furthering the work to be accomplished, it is clear that even
an infinite succession of irrelevant, and consequently useless acts,
would no more achieve or forward the completion of it, than an infinite
number of jumps in the same place would advance one toward a journey's
end; for there is a motion without progress, in time as well as space;
where that has often remained stationary which appeared to us, in
leaving it behind, to have receded."--_Guesses at Truth._ First Ed.,
pp. 61-2.
[214] _Fragments of Science_, p. 442. The passage has been referred to
before--and its _pith_ alone is given here--_i.e._ the central sentence.
[215] _Astronomy_, Chapter viii. init., note p. 264. Ed. 1850.
[216] Page 178, seq.
[bd] Compare our summary of Powell's argument on this point, pp. 173-4
_ante_. "We see the necessity of a Moral cause as distinguished from a
physical antecedent, when we survey Nature. But Nature does not contain
the idea in an _explicit_ shape. She only necessitates its acceptance."
[217] Having before quoted at some length from this distinguished
Professor, it seems needless to add anything here, except that the same
sentiments will be found reasserted in his later works.--See _Spirit of
Inductive Philosophy_, pp. 152-3, and 175-9; and compare Chapter II.
_ante_, Additional notes D and E, pp. 103-107, where these passages are
in part quoted and commented on.
[218] Of course, if any man pronounces anything _absolutely_
unknowable, he says virtually, "my knowledge equals the sum total of
all knowledge."
[219] Every one who writes this word, must feel tempted to ask why
such a condition attaches to any truth. This Essay avoids metaphysical
inquiries; we must, therefore, rest content with having plainly shewn
that it _does_ attach to the _most certain and necessary_ of _all_
truths.
[be] The reader may be pleased to recal Professor Huxley's two
necessary beliefs--necessary, that is, for making the world we live
in less miserable and less ignorant. First, that the Order of Nature
is practically ascertainable. Secondly, that our Volition counts for
something as a condition in the course of Events. (_Lay Sermons_, p.
159,--already quoted pp. 247 and 8 _ante_.)
Evidently, to count for _anything_, Volition must produce _effects_;
that is, cause certain _changes_ in the natural order of things. This
principle, therefore, is clearly asserted by the Professor,--and its
consequences follow by logical necessity, as here deduced.
Mr. Huxley's idea of the Order of Nature is also coincident with the
view of it taken in this Chapter.
The present writer is glad to mark these undesigned coincidences of
thought. "Lay Sermons" had not reached him when this Essay was sent to
the Oxford Registrar. Neither had he seen the Professor's Article in
the Fortnightly Review.
_Addition._--The doctrine in most complete antagonism with Mr. Huxley's
position is described as follows by Dr. Carpenter:--
"The most thorough-going expression of this doctrine will be found in
the 'Letters of the Laws of Man's Nature and Development,' by Henry G.
Atkinson and Harriet Martineau. A few extracts will suffice to show the
character of this system of Philosophy. 'Instinct, passion, thought,
etc., are effects of organized substances.' 'All causes are material
causes.' 'In material conditions I find the origin of all religions,
all philosophies, all opinions, all virtues, all "spiritual conditions
and influences," in the same manner that I find the origin of all
diseases and of all insanities in material conditions and causes.'
'I am what I am; a creature of necessity; I claim neither merit nor
demerit.' 'I feel that I am as completely the result of my nature, and
impelled to do what I do, as the needle to point to the north, or the
puppet to move according as the string is pulled.' 'I cannot alter my
will, or be other than what I am, and cannot deserve either reward or
punishment.'" Carpenter. _Mental Physiology_, p. 4.
[220] Horace would have felt himself bewildered by some modern
Philosophies. He says:--
"Unde nil majus generatur ipso
_Nec_ viget quidquam _simile_ aut _secundum_."
CHAPTER VII.
RESPONSIBILITY.
"The astronomers said, 'Give us matter, and a little motion, and we
will construct the universe. It is not enough that we should have
matter, we must also have a single impulse, one shove to launch the
mass, and generate the harmony of the centrifugal and centripetal
forces. Once heave the ball from the hand, and we can show how all this
mighty order grew.'"--Emerson. _Nature._
"The essence of the Scandinavian, as indeed of all Pagan Mythologies,
we found to be recognition of the divineness of Nature; sincere
communion of man with the mysterious invisible Powers visibly seen at
work in the world round him.... Such recognition of Nature one finds
to be the chief element of Paganism: recognition of Man, and his Moral
Duty, though this too is not wanting, comes to be the chief element
only in purer forms of religion. Here, indeed, is a great distinction
and epoch in Human Beliefs; a great landmark in the religious
development of Mankind. Man first puts himself in relation with Nature
and her Powers, wonders and worships over those; not till a later epoch
does he discern that all Power is Moral, that the grand point is the
distinction for him of Good and Evil, of _Thou shalt and Thou shalt
not_."--Carlyle. _Heroes._
"Our Religion is not yet a horrible restless Doubt, still less a far
horribler composed Cant; but a great heaven-high Unquestionability,
encompassing, interpenetrating the whole of Life. Imperfect as we may
be, we are here, to testify incessantly and indisputably to every
heart, That this Earthly Life, and _its_ riches and possessions, and
good and evil hap, are not intrinsically a reality at all, but _are_
a shadow of realities eternal, infinite; that this Time-world, as an
air-image, fearfully _emblematic_, plays and flickers in the grand
still mirror of Eternity; and man's little Life has Duties that are
great, that are alone great."--Carlyle. _Past and Present._
"Goodness and greatness are not means but ends.
Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
The good great man?--Three treasures, life and light,
And calm thoughts, regular as infant's breath;
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night--
Himself, his Maker, and the Angel Death."
S. T. Coleridge.
"Omnia terrena
Per vices sunt aliena:
nescio sunt cuius;
mea nunc, cras huius et huius.
Dic, homo, quid speres,
si mundo totus adheres;
nulla tecum feres,
licet tu solus haberes."
From "_This World is false and vain_," lines 41-48.
"Threefold is the march of Time,
The Future, lame and lingering, totters on;
Swift as a dart the Present hurries by;
The Past stands fixed in mute Eternity.
"To urge his slow advancing pace
Impatience nought avails,
Nor fear, nor doubt, can check his race,
As fleetly past he sails.
No spell, no deep remorseful throes
Can move him from his stern repose.
"Mortal! they bid thee read this rule sublime:
Take for thy councillor the lingering one;
Make not the flying visitor thy friend,
Nor choose thy foe in him that standeth without end."
_After Confucius_, by Sir. J. Herschel.
"The world that I regard is myself; it is the microcosm of mine own
frame that I cast mine eye on; for the other, I use it but like my
globe, and turn it round sometimes for my recreation. Men that look
upon my outside, perusing only my condition and fortunes, do err in
my altitude; for I am above Atlas his shoulders. The earth is a point
not only in respect of the heavens above us, but of that heavenly
and celestial part within us: that mass of flesh that circumscribes
me, limits not my mind: that surface that tells the heavens it hath
an end, cannot persuade me I have any: I take my circle to be above
three hundred and sixty; though the number of the arc do measure my
body, it comprehendeth not my mind: whilst I study to find how I am
a microcosm, or little world, I find myself something more than the
great. There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something that was
before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun."
Sir T. Browne. _Religio Medici._
[Greek: ison de nyktessin aiei,
isa d' en hamerais halion echontes aponesteron
esloi dedorkanti bion, ou chthona tarassontes en cheros akma
oude pontion hydôr
keinan para diaitan; alla para men timiois
theôn, hoitines echairon euorkiais, adakryn nemontai
aiôna'....
..... entha makarôn
nasos ôkeanides
aurai peripneois in, anthema de chrysou phlegei,
ta men chersothen ap' aglaôn dendreôn, hydôr d'alla pherbei
hormoisi tôn cheras anaplekonti kai kephalas.]
Pindar. _Olymp._ II.
"Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a Light to guide, a Rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;
From vain temptations dost set free;
From strife and from despair; a glorious ministry.
* * * * *
"I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
Resolved that nothing e'er should press
Upon my present happiness,
I shoved unwelcome tasks away;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.
"Through no disturbance of my soul,
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy controul;
But in the quietness of thought:
Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance desires:
My hopes no more must change their name,
I long for a repose which ever is the same.
"Yet not the less would I throughout
Still act according to the voice
Of my own wish; and feel past doubt
That my submissiveness was choice:
Not seeking in the school of pride
For 'precepts over dignified,'
Denial and restraint I prize
No farther than they breed a second Will more wise.
"Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace:
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face;
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds;
And Fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;
And the most ancient Heavens through Thee are fresh and strong.
"To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh! let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!"
Wordsworth. _Poems_, 1807.
SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTER VII.
The object of this Chapter is to shew that the universally enforced
maxim of Responsibility unites in itself _two_ factors.
(1.) A true power of Causation, as explained in Chapter VI.
(2.) A moral distinction of Right and Wrong.
This _second_ element of Responsibility is next investigated, and the
Moral antithesis shewn to be inalienable. Right can never be Wrong,
nor Wrong ever Right. Justice must certainly prevail at last.
From the connection of Morality with Causation, it may be inferred
that the moral Law has its ultimate existence in a Supreme
Personality--a just and sovereign God. This conclusion is verified.
Human life and Human death read us the same lesson.
_Corollary._--If the conclusion just drawn be accepted, and to know
God be Life Eternal, we may also infer an _à priori_ probability
of some Supernatural assistances, intended to strengthen our human
weaknesses and diminish our ignorance. This latter purpose would seem
likely to include a better aid to happiness, and a more complete code
of Moral Maxims.
_Analysis._--As a social fact, Responsibility is universal, and
accounted inalienable by any individual man. Responsibility involves
Causation in the highest sense, together with Moral Sensibility.
Attempts to refine away ethical Rightness. An appeal to consciousness
proposed:--Distinctness of moral feeling;--and its _Permanence_.
Antithesis of Right and Wrong an irreconcileable Antagonism.
Contrasted with correlation of Power and Function; this antithesis
never fluent, but rigorous, immutable, imperishable, absolute.
Ultimate coincidence of Happiness with Virtue is a necessary result of
Independent Morality.
Moral Law exists conceivably in and by a Will alone; as--
1. Its cause and spring of movement.
2. Its source of expression and practical authority.
Being supreme, it exists in and by a Supreme Moral Will or
Personality. That is to say, in and by God.
This conception verified. World inexplicable without Man. Man
inexplicable without God; Whom to know is Life Eternal.
_Corollary._--Supernatural assistance apparently to be expected when
Moral Law is viewed as a human endowment proceeding from God. Thus Man
is made for God, and God has not made Man in vain.
Confirmation from--
1. Image of Divine Love in Nature. 2. Nature of religious Trust as a
Belief of Reason. 3. Incompleteness of our ethical knowledge apart
from such assistance. 4. Universal expectation of Mankind.
_L'Envoy._
CHAPTER VII.
RESPONSIBILITY.
Responsibility is the most serious fact of our whole human world.
The affairs of life could not go on for a single day if there were
no Responsibility. We never release any man from its burden, without
incapacitating him, at the same time, alike from business and from
enjoyment. We lay it upon childhood, as soon as the child is able
to reflect upon his own actions and to choose deliberately;--we do
not take it away from a collected and self-controlled age. And every
reasonable Man who stands by an open grave, or knows that he is rapidly
approaching his own, feels, (above all other pressures,) the unending
prospect of Responsibility. Looking at this prospect, we look into our
deepest solitude;--
"Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die."
None of our fellows, the dear companions of our Soul, can carry our
burden then. And though they walk by our side in life, and cheer us
with their love, they cannot really bear that burden _now_. And, thus,
in the most serious and solemn fact of our existence, we are always
isolated and alone.
But Responsibility is something better to every one of us than
a burden;--it is also an incalculable benefit. A man who has no
true sense of responsibility, is an unformed human being;--and,
in proportion as we feel it inwardly, and express the feeling by
consideration and self-control, we make progress in real manliness. On
this account, Responsibility may be pronounced our chief aid in the
formation of a manly character. And, probably, among all the sources
of human happiness, none yields a more unbroken serenity, than the
habitual consciousness of being enabled to act up to the single mark of
our responsibilities.
When a man has attained such practical wisdom, it "maketh his face to
shine." His daily endeavour to do right, instead of causing him anxiety
and disquietude, gives a buoyancy to the spirit; which shows itself
in a peculiar brightness of countenance, unlike every other cheerful
glance and aspect. The beaming faces, with which early Italian artists
painted their good men and saintly women, are excellent illustrations
of this expressional beauty.
Let us consider, through one chapter more, what Natural Theology has to
say upon this subject.
Responsibility has been shewn to involve, as one of its constituent
principles, an idea of _Causation_. It is, also, clear that to hold
a man responsible, he must be supposed to possess some power of
distinguishing Right from Wrong. In our last chapter, we drew from the
principle of Causation certain conclusions regarding the Universal
First Cause. We have now to examine the principle of Moral Sensibility.
Every one at all acquainted with modern controversy, is aware that
few questions have been more keenly mooted, than the _origin_ of
moral distinctions among mankind. The debate respecting them has run,
for a great part of its course, parallel with that on the origin of
our primary intellectual beliefs, alluded to in a former chapter.
Neither of these controversies concerns us beyond a certain point. Our
business lies with the facts of human nature, rather than with theories
concerning any supposed possibilities as to their growth and accretion.
But, one caution we suggested respecting the case of intellect, holds
good and is important to every moral inquirer. _Let the analyst beware
of his alembic!_ There is nothing more easy than to vaporize reality
altogether, by way of exalting a philosophy.[221] And in Morality, the
result is far worse than in speculation. The distinctive character of
our Moral Consciousness is the "essence" which lends to a right action
its peculiar fragrance and beauty. Invaluable _per se_, it will surely
be found of a nature so delicate and fugitive as to escape the tests
of analytic psychologists. Yet when this is fled, the residuum must be
worthless to Moral philosophy.
The "essence" just mentioned, merits a few minutes' attention. Men have
been known to assert that their feeling of appreciation in respect
of a very lovely woman, was precisely similar to their appreciation
of a handsome horse. No doubt, the right answer is to tell such a
man that he is utterly blind to the true loveliness of woman; and
does not deserve to call a creature so excellent, his wife. You may,
also, point out to him the various distinctive characters of female
excellence,--refinement, purity, depth of feeling, self devotion, the
noblest heroism, and so on. But if the man has put all his perceptions
of diverse excellences into a private alembic, and sublimated them
into one of the lowest among æsthetic susceptibilities; no argument
will really convince him. The truly bright æsthetic eye--the grander
imaginative powers are wanting,--the man is mentally colour-blind.
The same truth holds good of theorists who tell us dogmatically that
our Moral Sensibility is nothing better than an accretion of baser
materials which may be stripped off from each other in the reverse
order of their growth, just like the coats of a stalactite or a
tulip-root. As may readily be surmised, there is great difference
of dogma, when judgment comes to be pronounced on the _moral core_
and _centre_ of the whole. Some are for the needs of society,--some
utility in general,--the greater part for individual advantage.
Others take theoretically polar directions; and with them, rightness
consists either in quietism, or else in self-immolation. Self-approving
feelings, (each advocate tells us,) have clustered round his pet
growing point; and the clustering has endowed us with all the moral
sense we happen to possess. Here again, it is doubtful whether a right
answer will convince the experimentalist, bent on turning lead into
gold. Yet whether convincing or not, most honest hearts would prompt
an indignant rejoinder. The world at large, however, is likely to prove
a more successful arbiter. The utilitarian will find that he excites
little sympathy even when general utility forms his moral kernel;--and,
when it is no more than a personal gain of worldly advantages, he will
not improbably be called a rascal. Then "Quietism" can never hope much
favour in the busy workshop of the West. Though it may seem strange to
some minds, self-immolation has by far the greatest chance of winning
suffrages; one chief reason being, that the man who sacrifices his own
private advantage, has evidently spurned expediency and selfishness.
Even those who think his theoretical views erroneous--and possibly
mischievous, will applaud his victory over the meaner passions.
Each hour of thought the reader can bestow on moral distinctions, will
turn to certain good. At the very least, it must help to form a habit
of self-examination. And for this purpose, very simple interrogatories
bring out very useful responses. If the reader be a rose grower, let
him inquire into his own feelings, when he plucks the fairest flower
in his garden, to give fragrance and colour to the sick room of a
poor but sensitive little invalid. He will certainly perceive a wide
interval between his pleasure in admiring the glowing rose, and his
pleasure in adding to the scanty luxuries of the poor sick child.
Thus, although a benevolent action be a truly beautiful thing, yet
there is a difference between the rose grower's impressions of mere
beauty, and of pure benevolence. A difference too between his enjoyment
of beauty, and his enjoyment in benevolently resigning to another,
the object which charmed him because it was beautiful. Time, also,
makes a vast difference between the two emotions. We cannot recal a
delicious odour, as truly as we can reproduce a pretty sight before
our retrovertive eye. The image of the rose remains, after its sweet
fragrance has departed. But much, much longer than either, remains the
moral impression graved upon the mind. That little pleasure enjoyed in
a brief self-denial, will repeat itself through half a century of years.
Permanence is, indeed, one characteristic which demonstrates the
paramount excellence of all moral impressions. It is so _difficult_
to repeat to ourselves the sensation of physical pleasure or physical
pain, that many writers on pathologic topics speak of it as a thing
impossible. Certainly, its greatest vividness is in dreams; and above
all, "ægri somnia"--sick visions--seem to possess the strongest
reproductive power. It is curious, however, to observe the manner in
which dreams themselves put on a moral meaning. Who does not remember
Sir W. Scott's lines in the "Lady of the Lake," on the returning
phantoms of early youth,--change, loss, and separation? But those
phantoms are pale shadows, compared with what we have all felt in our
visionary hours,--the consciousness of our own absolute loneliness,--of
our death,--of a hopeless, endless isolation. Even the very thought of
our spiritual life,[222] as distinguished from mere corporeal life, is
terrible to us and hardly to be borne. So overwhelming is the idea of
the demand of Justice upon each of us;--the law of human Responsibility.
It is remarkable, too, that the most common-sense practical people
sometimes feel these impressions the most acutely. One reason may arise
from the circumstance, that the spiritually imaginative temperament
of such persons is vigorous,--has few occasions of employment; and
throws its unexhausted force into those strong "Michel-Angelesque"
realizations.
Whatever may be thought on this point, there is no truth of our whole
Manhood more striking, as well as more evident, than the _independent
vitality_ of our Moral Consciousness. Let us suppose, for example's
sake, that the reader was once unhappy enough to injure a neighbour,
a friend, or relation. Let the injury be something which you in your
heart know to be truly injurious;--a thing impossible in your better
moments,--but still a thing done. Now, let years elapse, and when the
thought recurs and the deed is reacted, you feel how wrongful it was.
And when you grow old, and there are few left to love you, the feeling
will become far more deep. Put oceans, continents, tropics, between
yourself and your injured one; the reality is not at all less real.
The same stars no longer look down upon you by night,--the sun does
not bring back the same seasons at the same time,--but your act is
_Timeless_;--and, though night and day vary, its criminality remains
the same. And worst of all,--the injured one may die, whilst no act of
reparation may have been performed by you,--no word of love or ruth
escaped your lips. The deed is irremediable, and you are the doer of
it. Neither Space nor Duration of years can alter the fact. There
is a moral mark set upon your conscience; and no human sympathy can
heal, nor even alleviate the sorrow. Most likely, you never attempt to
explain to others the pain you feel, because were the case another's
you would hardly comprehend it yourself. Thousands have gone to the
grave, carrying heavy burdens of this kind almost or altogether
unsuspected.
Exemption from the laws of Time and Space, is perhaps the most
_wonderful_ characteristic of our Moral Consciousness. With this
solitary exception, we seem to find ourselves in perpetual subjection
to those laws. But in the realm of Morals it is the reverse. The
endless theoretical contradictions about the Finite and the Infinite,
(to which we have more than once alluded,) bear witness to this
fact. Morality at once puts the two together;--what in its sphere of
commission was a finite crime, is likewise an infinite immorality. We
count up our faults as sins; but, when viewed awhile in the light of
conscience, they are most burdensome to us as being, not _sins_, but
_Sin_. Look at the pre-Christian Eumenides; the last writing of St.
John the Evangelist; the confessions of Augustine; and the life of John
Bunyan; to which we might add more than one great Oxford life;--and,
through them all, the profound sense of Sin underlies every other
utterance.
Another salient character of the moral sense, actually existing among
mankind, may be outlined as follows. We have already considered the
manner in which laws appear to human intelligence, as types, ideas, or
relations. Amongst them, we paid particular attention to the relativity
between Power and Function. And, when viewing these as polar opposites,
with a chain or nexus between them, we saw that the opposition was, in
a certain sense, _fluent_. Function changed into Power more than once,
before each complex process of production became entirely accomplished.
Power, in accomplishing its errand, continually was lost, and vanished
away in Function. But between Right and Wrong, the opposition is
fixed, contradictory, and enduring. Any Logic or Rhetoric which
attempts to make the antithesis appear fluent, is justly condemned
as special pleading, and the art of an oratorical Sophist. The only
question asked of the Sophistical speaker, is whether the error he
tries to excuse was wilful, or unintentional; whether it was a mistake,
or a confusion of distinctly-opposed moral dictates. So Demosthenes
says to OEschines, "Among all other men I observe these principles
and these distinctions to prevail. Does any one wilfully do wrong? He
is the object of indignation and of punishment. Does any one commit an
error unintentionally? He is pardoned, not punished.... All this is
established not only in all our jurisprudence, but by Nature herself
in her unwritten laws, and in the very constitution of the human
mind."[223]
And we may all feel quite sure that this is the normal decision of
Mankind.
Right and Wrong stand out as irreconcileable antagonists, contending
for the empire of the world. A man who watches the strife without deep
interest, and never mingles in the fray because he thinks its issue
immaterial, is no better than a Pessimist.
Compare a Duty with a Function, (in the wide sense we assigned to
the latter conception,) and two points will at once be evident.
First, how strong the contrast, how wide the interval, between the
Law of productive work, and the law of moral activity. Secondly, how
inextinguishable the contradiction between Right and Wrong. One man
undertakes some mechanical utilitarian function, dependent on the
pleasure or life of a superior; to whom he is in no other respect
bound, nor in any way accountable. Another is a husband, a father, or
a son. The object of his natural affection, is also the being to whom
his tender offices of devotion are morally due. For different reasons,
the daily lives of both these men have become first irksome,--then,
very wearisome,--finally, almost odious to themselves. The man of
routine goes to visit his ailing superior, and is permitted to enter
the sick room. He undraws a curtain and looks upon the face of a dead
man. Between the departed and himself, there existed no natural love,
nor any acquired hate, neither duty nor demand. The link was simply
official, and it is broken. Next month, there will be a new Superior
who knows not Joseph. Another subordinate will occupy the post of
routine; and, under the circumstances, to be released from the old toil
is a sort of happiness. The tedious function of the past is over; and
he carries his powers into a more hopeful employment. Yet Man is always
something to Man, if both are genuine; and there arise a thousand
regretful memories, and thoughts of kindly interchange of gestures,
looks, and words. After a time, the last change of all is thought of as
a thing to be deplored, but gone by,--a thing simply irremediable.
But how different, when the man who has been morally bound--say the
son--sees a dead face upturned from his father's pillow! Here is
another link of service broken;--service of another kind,--a duty. It
is gone, the sick bed attendance, the harass, the vexation, endured
with a recalcitrant feeling, and sometimes an openly determined
opposition. And how much is gone besides! The feeling of resistance
vanishes, when there is no longer a Will to be resisted; the harass
and vexation appear unwholesome phantoms. To look on the life of a
father or a near friend, after death, is like looking on a moonlighted
landscape; its harsher features are lost in lengthening shadow; all
that we thought rugged and stern, appears subdued and blended with a
thousand fondly-remembered softnesses. A mild and silvery radiance
flows over the whole familiar scene;--we gaze and sigh,--and sigh and
gaze again. To think of its becoming veiled from our eyes, seems like
losing a portion of our own existence.
And what more is gone besides? The son's thought, which used to mingle
so strangely with his feelings of distaste,--that, some day, he would
fill up the measure of that which was consciously lacking in his filial
duty and devotion. He has now no power of offering sorrow to obtain the
remission of claims unsatisfied, no possibility of saying, "Father,
I have sinned"! He would die by inches, if, with each slow degree of
mortality he could revoke a short period of the Past.
In other concerns of life all beyond human cure is also beyond human
care; but this concern is a matter of Right and Wrong. To say the Wrong
is irremediable, is to utter the sharpest cry of Remorse,--the last
word of a long Despair.
It is always thus, when the moral rule intervenes. It is so, when
an injured friend dies,--the injurer is fast bound by the crime he
has committed. It is so, when the Son thinks he has to face things
undone which ought to have been done,--the opportunity of doing them
now lost for ever. Inability to remedy a wrong makes our sorrow
inextinguishable. And we know by experience, that such a sorrow is
unlike every other sorrow. It differs in _kind_ from all trains of
ordinary feeling, and seems to belong less to our emotional life than
to be a dictate of our sovereign reason. And the moral rule is so.
In the eye of Practical Reason which (so far as human nature goes),
constitutes our supreme guide, a claim of Morality is absolutely
rigorous--absolutely supreme--and if unsatisfied, absolutely inexorable.
To suppose anything less, would be to annihilate the whole moral law.
For, how can you, or I, or any one, be required to immolate our life,
freedom, fortune, or even our ordinary enjoyments, unless the rule be
perfectly unyielding; perfectly unchangeable? To be binding _now_,--it
must be binding under _all_ circumstances, and binding _always_. If a
single claim remain unsatisfied the admission is fatal. Broken once,
the law is broken everlastingly. Every man might conceive that his
own case was, possibly, just one marked for exception. Who, then,
would sacrifice at the altar of Right-doing all earthly goods; undergo
chains, ignominy, dungeon-solitude, pain, lingering hopelessness,
and death? Who, then, would be able to stand by, and see all these
inflictions undergone by one he loves best, when compliance with
wrong-doing would surely set the sufferer free? It is the certainty
of an equal and unrelenting law, which makes all kinds of endurance
possible.
If no other reason existed, this one would suffice to prove that,
unless human nature is a falsehood, happiness must ultimately coincide
with virtue. How distantly removed their final coincidence may be, is
a point which can have no influence on the certitude of our knowledge.
We speak here, as we speak of parallel lines which cannot meet through
infinity;--only we speak the reverse way;--it is for all infinity that
virtue must become happiness. If a man will seriously sit down, and
try the contrary hypothesis out to himself, he will see that if held
true, Morality ceases to be imperial, and Man ceases to be human. The
claim of Right is to rule the Universe, entire, and in every part.
Before that claim, all knowledge, scientific, phenomenal, inferential,
must fail and vanish away. Whatever else be true or untrue, this
must be rigorous, unalterable, imperishable truth. Upon this truth,
each reasonable being, percipient of it, is required to act in his
own individual person. Therefore, in the case of each individual it
must hold absolutely true. And thus the moral endowment of Man is
not a _general_ sense of Morality; no indeterminate impulse towards
excellence floating before him; no mere thought that past generations
were made for us, and we for a coming race. What we really know and
acknowledge as moral truth, is _each_ Man's strict accountability,
individual, isolated, and inalienable. Otherwise, individual rightness
cannot be demanded, and individual suffering for conscience-sake must
become, in some eyes Utopian,--to most sufferers intolerable. The
moral law is therefore supreme, or it would be ineffectual. It is
individually specializing, otherwise it could not claim individual
obedience. And to be supreme, both in final effect and present empire
over each human being, it must obviously be--(as our practical Reason
apprehends it)--Universal. To such a sovereignty there is nothing
great, nothing small. Time sets no bounds, while Reason beholds in it
the ultimate perfection and sum of all that went before it.
Towards that complete coincidence of happiness with virtue, the
aspiration of good and the sighs of sorrowful souls, have been breathed
continually. In its realization alone, can our noblest capabilities be
realized. For, there is nothing in this world commensurate with the
capacious longings of the human spirit. Here, too often, it droops
like a beautiful plant in a strange unkindly soil; and, when it blooms
its brightest, we feel that under other influences it might bloom more
brightly still. True humanity is marked by its own specific character,
as the fit inhabitant of a far more excellent sphere.
We ask with some eagerness, how may these things be? And the _primary_
answer to this question lies within the circuit of our knowledge. Our
own consciousness, the facts of life, and the reason of the thing, all
agree in one result. Moral law exists only in, and for, a Will; and by
a Will alone can it be made effectual. In this respect, it resembles
the Law of Production, which, apprehended ideally by intelligence,
becomes realized by the moving force of Will. Moreover, we have seen
that Will is true Causation, and therefore in Will exists the first
ground of Movement. We know in fact of no other. Neither is any other
Causality conceivable by us, even in hypothesis; and we _think_
this causative power of Will only by knowing its real existence and
verifying its workings through their issues.
Yet further. The Moral Law, as a sovereign command, is addressed to our
Wills; and unless it were the Expression of a Will, we know it could
never be executed. The Law would remain a dead letter,--a _thought_
of Intelligence,--an abstract speculation,--ineffective because
impractical. Therefore, when we speak of a Supreme Moral law, we speak
of a Supreme Moral Will; an idea we sometimes express by true Being, or
true Personality. We speak, that is, of God.
Experience deepens to us every day the meaning of this final word. In
the world of our present habitation, we see a confused mass of striving
Wills,--the good and just not always in the ascendant,--rightful
commands disregarded,--a sovereign rule not visibly asserted. To
affirm the possible continuance of these practical contradictions,
would be to deny the ultimate Moral Unity of moral purposes. This
Divine consummation is, then, the finality towards which all things
must in reason be tending. For even as human nature explains all other
nature,--as the Moral Law explains all other law,--so God explains Man.
Explains his existence, otherwise inexplicable, by the anticipated
victory of Right over Wrong,--and the complete satisfaction of his
unsatisfied aspirations. By presenting, that is to say, an adequate
object,--a Personality infinitely great and infinitely good,--to
the eye of Man's reason,--the desire of his heart,--the striving
endeavour, and ceaseless energy of Man's whole essential being;--his
affections, his will, his spirit.
This elevating thought comes home to each one of us, bringing with it
a peace of mind unutterable. We know that the time must come, when
thought and memory shall grow faint. Our brain will lose its quick
apprehensive motion, and all our bodily powers must sink and languish.
Our eyes will refuse to see the faces of those we love; our hands to
return their kindly pressure; our nerves to thrill at their voices.
But, whosoever has learnt the lesson which God's world, and God's gifts
to Man, were meant to teach him, may truthfully say--"My flesh and my
heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for
Ever."
* * * * *
_Corollary._--One reflection will probably have occurred to every
reader of the last few pages. The rigour of the moral law demonstrates
to us the necessary existence of a future state of recompense, and the
supremacy of a sovereign Will--a divine Judge. Now, does not this very
rigour leave man as hopeless, as if he were altogether without God? Can
he ever expect to perform the behests of that pure and perfect Will?
This difficulty would appear valid, were there nothing in the idea of
God thus given us, to furnish rejoinders, such for example, as the
following.--How could the Supreme Judge make any difference between
those who are His anxious servants, and those who turn away from His
infinite purity with hatred or indifference, if all men were alike
overwhelmed in one common failure by reason of an inexorable law? How,
again, could He satisfy the aspirations of earnest but half-hopeless
human souls, without gathering them to His presence and to Himself?
The manner in which such a happiness results to men, may be an enigma,
so far as Natural Theology is concerned;--but if so, it is an enigma,
of which, those who reason on this ground, may foresee that there will
certainly be granted some solution. And we are not left quite in the
dark as to _how_ that solution may be found;--a truth we may perceive
from the ensuing considerations:--
The moral law is presented to Man's practical reason with all its
consequences. The divine Idea, when once apprehended, becomes the
object of Man's noblest affections. God, Who graved His law of Right
and Wrong upon the conscious will of His creature, wrote also a law of
love upon His creature's human heart.
Hence we view the Supreme Being, as a God who formed and endowed Man
for Himself. It was thus, that Man's nature received its only possible
explanation. Hence, also, the sufficient account of a capacity for
happiness which this world can never give;--and, along with it, the
earnest of its ultimate satisfaction.
But these evidences of the Divine finger, prove also a Divine
_intention_. The supreme ruler of the Universe has, by them, written
upon Man's nature a purpose of making His creature happy. And if so,
we cannot but conclude that to the Divine attribute of love, which
inspired the glad promise, we may look for its certain fulfilment. In
this point of view, a miracle worked for such a moral and spiritual
purpose as the ennoblement and blessedness of Humanity, ceases in one
sense to be a miracle. It becomes not only credible, but probable. And
in reality, any event appears _less improbable_ than that incredible
and most unlovely issue,--the self-contradictory thought, that God has
made Man in vain.
These considerations are drawn from our Moral nature, as just
described. There are other considerations at hand to confirm them.
In treating the subject of Production, we saw Intelligence involved in
every Idea, and preceding every process. When referred to the Universe,
Intelligence was necessarily conceived as vast and immeasurable. In
order to discern the other attributes of that universal Intelligence,
we examined the characteristics of Design apparent in nature, and
saw everywhere a spirit of superhuman tenderness breathed over our
beautiful world. Thus, if there be any personal relation between the
Author of Nature and our race, it ought to be one of trust on our side,
demanded by care and beneficence on His. And this feeling is heightened
by the charm of lavish kindness,--the prodigality of a love Divine.
Again, if we turn to one chapter of this Essay farther back, and bring
to mind the rise and progress of our primary beliefs, we cannot but
ask ourselves the question, how is it that the first religious idea
of the Aryan race--the "Heaven-father"--should coincide with the most
typical utterances of our loveliest childhood, and our most advanced
manhood, _now_?--Is He really our Father? If so, may we not expect much
from His hand? He is a _Person_, not an Abstract Entity,--a Force,--or
a Thing. Our Father will give us, not a stone--but bread;--bread from
Heaven--bread from Himself. And we see that He giveth liberally, and
upbraideth not.
This is not all. The rigour of the Moral Law is an irreconcileable
Antithesis between Right and Wrong,--a gulf which no human subtlety
can bridge. But with all this rigour, it leaves unresolved, to a very
considerable extent, one set of doubts perpetually recurring to an
honest mind. Is _this_ or _that_ particular point a duty;--is it right
or wrong;--or is its observance open to debate? There are obvious
reasons, arising from the necessities of moral culture and improvement,
why such points should, within certain limits, be indeterminate. This
whole topic, however, belongs properly to Natural Religion, a separate
subject from Natural Theology. Still, for our present purpose, an
important consequence of the inexactness is clear.--It gives rise to a
reasonable expectation of some more extensive code not unlikely to be
vouchsafed us, harmonizing with, and supplementary to, the law of our
moral consciousness. And at every age of Man's history, and throughout
every country of his habitation, there always did, in fact, prevail
an expectant attitude of mind, looking on all sides for the tokens
of Divine Revelation. It was felt also by the wisest, that no human
foresight could decide beforehand, what aids to higher knowledge and
moral virtue might be given along with it. Certainly, every reasonable
idea of the great and good God, formed a ground for hope and confident
anticipation of the _Highest_ and the _Best_.
* * * * *
This Essay has reached its close. May it be permitted its writer to
drop the tone of an Essayist, and to say that every word of it has come
from his heart?
May he likewise ask two favours of the intelligent reader; neither of
them he trusts unreasonably onerous?
His first request is that the _convergent_ effect of the separate
considerations urged in this Essay, may be fairly taken into account.
Indeed, the writer once thought of appending a kind of conspectus
or "summing up."--But he would thus have added another full chapter
to a book which has grown considerably in his hands. Neither might
the summary be altogether welcome to the more candid minds amongst
those who doubt, yet honestly debate. Most such readers prefer
putting results and consilient reasonings into a connected shape for
themselves. The writer may however venture on soliciting some special
attention to the breadth of field ranged over;--the wide circumference
from which his various arguments and illustrations have converged.
This point is one of considerable value. Great credit is given to the
accordant testimony of witnesses who have come together from distant
parts of the world.
The _other_ favour requested, is that every person who desires to form
a deliberate judgment on the grand topics at issue, will carefully
weigh in the balance _what_ alternative he can embrace, if he refuses
to be a Theist. An alternative, that is, sufficient to account for
the human Will and Reason, for such a world as our own, and for so
symmetrical and beautiful a Universe.
The system we have advocated on grounds of Reason, asserts that the
first Cause of all Things and all Beings known to us, is God. This
account alone is sufficingly complete, and coherent. Against it alone,
no fatal objection has ever been alleged. And this single fact ought to
have a preponderating weight in the balance.
* * * * *
When finally compared together, the _motives_ of our Choice (as
presented by Natural Theology), stand thus:--
If explanations of the Universe explain unequally, _that_ account ought
to be chosen which is easiest in itself, explains the most, and is the
least self-contradictory.
If several explanations appear equal to the deliberative eye, then we
must choose the noblest _per se_; and, as Men, we ought to prefer that
which is the most elevating, and most germane to Humanity. In it, will
be contained the only true Law of human Progress.
_Either_ motive of our final Choice--still more, _both_ these
motives--will bring us to God; and with reason--"For we are also His
offspring."
FOOTNOTES:
[221] Every reader of Ben Jonson must recal the Alchemical process of
"Exaltation":--
"Son, be not hasty, I _exalt_ our med'cine,
By hanging him _in balneo vaporoso_,
And giving him solution; then _congeal_ him;
And then _dissolve_ him; then again _congeal_ him."
_The Alchemist_, Act II. Scene i.
But who would wish the congelation of our Moral sense? If indeed it
could possibly survive the rest of the process.
Reading these lines, can any one wonder at the celebrated chemical
analysis of bygone days, which ended in discovering an undetermined
residuum of dirt?
[222] Compare Job iv. 13, seq.
[223] De Corona. Sect. 274. The translation in the text is Lord
Brougham's, and his note on this passage is worth perusal. Trans. p.
185.
THE END.
Watson and Hazell, Printers, London and Aylesbury
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Typographical errors have been silently corrected.
Variable hyphenation within the text has been standardised, and, where
possible, inconsistent use of quotes.
Other variations in spelling, accents, and punctuation are
as in the original.
The author has used recal (instead of recall) throughout. This has not
been changed.
Italics are represnted thus _italic_. [=u] represents u with a macron.
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