* January 13,1889.
Mr. Frank Harris, the editor of the _Fortnightly Review_, must be a sly
humorist. In the current number of his magazine he has published two
articles as opposite to each other as Balaam's blessing on Israel
was opposite to the curse besought by the King of Moab. Mr. Frederic
Harrison pitches into Agnosticism with his usual vigor, and holds out
Positivism as the only system which can satisfy the sceptic and the
religionist. Mr. W. H. Mallock, on the other hand, makes a trenchant
attack on Positivism; and the readers of both articles will learn how
much may be said against anything, or at least anything in the shape of
a system. Mr. Herbert Spencer, in the name of the Unknowable, proffers
his Agnosticism, and Mr. Harrison says "Bosh." Mr. Harrison, in the name
of Positivism, proffers his Religion of Humanity, and Mr. Mallock says
"Moonshine." Mr. Spencer is a man of genius, and Mr. Harrison and Mr.
Mallock are men of remarkable talent. Yet, shuffle them how you will,
any two of them are ready to damn what the third blesses. What does this
show? Why, that systems are all arbitrary, and suited to a certain order
of minds in a certain stage of development; and that system-mongers are
like spiders, who spin their webs out of their own bowels.
Mr. Harrison's definition of Agnosticism shows it to be merely Atheism
in disguise. Milton said that new presbyter was but old priest writ
large, and we may say that the new Agnosticism is but old Atheism
written larger--and more respectably. Agnosticism is the cuckoo of
philosophy. It appropriates the nest of another bird, turns it out in
the cold, and even adopts its progeny. All the time-honored positions
of Atheism--man's finity and nature's infinity, the relativity of human
knowledge, the reign of law, and so forth--are quietly monopolised
by this intruder, who looks upon the object he has despoiled as the
Christian looked upon the Jew after borrowing his God. Yet in England,
the classic land of mental timidity and compromise, Agnosticism is
almost fashionable, while poor Atheism is treated with persecution or
obloquy. Elsewhere, especially in France, we find a different condition
of things. A French sceptic no more hesitates to call himself an Atheist
than to call himself a Republican. May it not be, therefore, that the
difference between Agnosticism and Atheism is one of temperament? We
might illustrate this theory by appealing to examples. Darwin was
an Agnostic, Professor Clifford an Atheist. Or, if we turn to pure
literature, we may instance Matthew Arnold and Algernon Swinburne.
Arnold, the Agnostic, says that "most of what now passes with us for
religion and philosophy will be replaced by poetry." Swinburne, the
Atheist, exclaims "Thou art smitten, thou God, thou art smitten, thy
death is upon thee O Lord."
This brings out the cardinal--we might say the _only_ distinction
between Atheism and Agnosticism. The Agnostic is a timid Atheist, and
the Atheist a courageous Agnostic. John Bull is infuriated by the red
cloak of Atheism, so the Agnostic dons a brown cloak with a red lining.
Now and then a sudden breeze exposes a bit of the fatal red, but
the garment is promptly adjusted, and Bull forgets the irritating
phenomenon.
Mr. Harrison says "the Agnostic is one who protests against any dogma
respecting Creation at all, and who deliberately takes his stand on
ignorance." We cannot help saying that this differences him from the
Atheist. Seeing that we cannot solve infinite problems, that we know
nothing, and apparently _can_ know nothing, of God or the supernatural,
the Atheist has always regarded religious dogmas as blind guesses,
which, according to the laws of chance, are in all probability wrong;
and as these blind guesses have almost invariably been associated with
mental tyranny and moral perversion, he has regarded theology as the foe
of liberty and humanity. The Agnostic, however, usually adopts a more
pleasant attitude. He does not believe in attacking theology; and "after
all, you know," he sometimes says, "we can't tell what there may be
behind the veil."
With his master, Comte, Mr. Harrison "entirely accepts the Agnostic
position as a matter of logic," but it is only a stepping-stone, and he
objects to sitting down upon it. Every religion the world has ever seen
has been false, but religion itself is imperishable, and Positivism has
found the true solution of the eternal problem. Parsons and Agnostics
will eventually kiss each other, like righteousness and peace in
the text, and the then existing High Priest of Positivism will say,
"Humanity bless you, my children." But all this is for the sweet
by-and-bye. Meanwhile the Churches thrust out their tongues at
Positivism, the great Agnostic philosopher calls it the Ghost of
Religion, Sir James Stephen declares that nobody can worship Comte's
made-up Deity, and Mr. Mallock says that the love of Humanity, taking
it in the concrete, is as foolish as Titania's affection for Bottom the
Weaver.
Professed Atheists may watch this hubbub with serenity, if not with
enjoyment. When all is said and done, Atheism remains in possession of
the sceptical field. Mr. Harrison's flouts, at any rate, will do it no
damage. His hatred of Atheism is born of jealousy, and like all jealous
people he is somewhat inconsistent. Here he defines Atheism as a
"protest against the theological doctrine of a Creator and a moral
providence," there he defines it as "based on the denial of God," and
again he defines it as a belief that the universe is "self-existent and
purely material." Even these do not suffice, for he also adopts Comte's
"profound aphorism" that "Atheism is the most irrational form of
metaphysics," and proves this by a fresh definition involved in the
charge that "it propounds as the solution of an insoluble enigma the
hypothesis which of all others is the least capable of proof, the least
simple, the least plausible, and the least useful." _Of all others_ is
what Cobbett would have called a beastly phrase. It shows Mr. Harrison
was in a hurry or a fog. He does not specify this unprovable, complex,
unplausible, and useless hypothesis. We forbear to guess his meaning,
but we remind him that Atheism "propounds _no_ solution of an insoluble
enigma." The Atheist does not say "there is no God"; he simply says, "I
know not," and ventures to think others are equally ignorant. Now, this
was Comte's own position. He wished to "reorganise Society, without God
or King, by the systematic cultus of Humanity," and if warning God off
from human affairs is not Atheism, we should like to know what is. Mr.
Harrison lustily sings the praises of religion, but he is remarkably
silent about Comte's opposition to Theism, and in this he is throwing
dust in the eyes of English readers.
In "militant Atheism" Mr. Harrison says that "all who have substantive
beliefs of their own find nothing but mischief." But this is only Mr.
Harrison's sweeping style of writing. He is always vivid, and nearly
always superlative. We venture to think that his "all" merely includes
his own circle. At the same time, however, we admit that militant
Atheism is still, as of old, an offence to the superfine sceptics who
desire to stand well with the great firm of Bumble and Grundy, as well
as to the vast army of priests and preachers who have a professional
interest in keeping heresy "dark," and to the ruling and privileged
classes, who feel that militant Atheism is a great disturber of the
peace which is founded on popular superstition and injustice.
Mr. Harrison seems to imagine that Atheists have no ideal beyond that
of attacking theology, but a moment's calm reflection would show him the
absurdity of this fancy. He might as well suppose that the pioneers of
civilisation who hew down virgin forests have no conception of the happy
homesteads they are making room for. We go farther and assert that
all this talk about negative and positive work is _cant_. To call the
destroyer of superstition a negationist is as senseless as to call a
doctor a negationist. Both strive to expel disease, the one bodily and
the other mental. Both, therefore, are working for health, and no more
positive work is conceivable.