XIII.

_The Eternal Source of Phenomena._

We have seen that before men could arrive at the idea of God, before

out of the old crude and fragmentary polytheisms there could be

developed a pure and coherent theism, it was necessary that physical

generalization should have advanced far enough to enable them, however

imperfectly, to reason about the universe as a whole. It was a faint

glimpse of the unity of Nature that first led men to the conception

of the unity of God, and as their knowledge of the phenomenal fact

becomes clearer, so must their grasp upon the noumenal truth behind it

become firmer. Now the whole tendency of modern science is to impress

upon us ever more forcibly the truth that the entire knowable universe

is an immense unit, animated throughout all its parts by a single

principle of life. This conclusion, which was long ago borne in upon

the minds of prophetic thinkers, like Spinoza and Goethe, through

their keen appreciation of the significance of the physical harmonies

known to them, has during the last fifty years received something like

a demonstration in detail. It is since Goethe's death, for example,

that it has been proved that the Newtonian law of gravitation extends

to the bodies which used to be called fixed stars. That such was the

case was already much more than probable, but so lately as 1835 there

were to be found writers on science, such as Comte, who denied that

it could ever be proved. But a still more impressive illustration

of the unity of Nature is furnished by the luminiferous ether, when

considered in connection with the discovery of the correlation of

forces. The fathomless abysses of space can no longer be talked of as

empty; they are filled with a wonderful substance, unlike any of the

forms of matter which we can weigh and measure. A cosmic jelly almost

infinitely hard and elastic, it offers at the same time no appreciable

resistance to the movements of the heavenly bodies. It is so sensitive

that a shock in any part of it causes a "tremour which is felt on

the surface of countless worlds." Radiating in every direction, from

millions of centric points, run shivers of undulation manifested in

endless metamorphosis as heat, or light, or actinism, as magnetism or

electricity. Crossing one another in every imaginable way, as if all

space were crowded with a mesh-work of nerve-threads, these motions

go on forever in a harmony that nothing disturbs. Thus every part of

the universe shares in the life of all the other parts, as when in the

solar atmosphere, pulsating at its temperature of a million degrees

Fahrenheit, a slight breeze instantly sways the needles in every

compass-box on the face of the earth.

Still further striking confirmation is found in the marvellous

disclosures of spectrum analysis. To whatever part of the heavens we

turn the telescope, armed with this new addition to our senses, we find

the same chemical elements with which the present century has made us

familiar upon the surface of the earth. From the distant worlds of

Arcturus and the Pleiades, whence the swift ray of light takes many

years to reach us, it brings the story of the hydrogen and oxygen, the

vapour of iron or sodium, which set it in motion. Thus in all parts

of the universe that have fallen within our ken we find a unity of

chemical composition. Nebulæ, stars, and planets are all made of the

same materials, and on every side we behold them in different stages

of development, worlds in the making: here an irregular nebula such as

our solar system once was, there a nebula whose rotation has at length

wrought it into spheroidal form; here and there stars of varied colours

marking different eras in chemical evolution; now planets still partly

incandescent like Saturn and Jupiter, then planets like Mars and the

earth, with cool atmospheres and solid continents and vast oceans of

water; and lastly such bodies as the moon, vapourless, rigid, and cold

in death.

Still nearer do we come toward realizing the unity of Nature when we

recollect that the law of evolution is not only the same for all these

various worlds, but is also the same throughout all other orders of

phenomena. Not only in the development of cosmical bodies, including

the earth, but also in the development of life upon the earth's surface

and in the special development of those complex manifestations of life

known as human societies, the most general and fundamental features of

the process are the same, so that it has been found possible to express

them in a single universal formula. And what is most striking of all,

this notable formula, under which Herbert Spencer has succeeded in

generalizing the phenomena of universal evolution, was derived from

the formula under which Von Baer in 1829 first generalized the mode of

development of organisms from their embryos. That a law of evolution

first partially detected among the phenomena of the organic world

should thereafter not only be found applicable to all other orders of

phenomena, but should find in this application its first complete and

coherent statement, is a fact of wondrous and startling significance.

It means that the universe as a whole is thrilling in every fibre with

Life,--not, indeed, life in the usual restricted sense, but life in

a general sense. The distinction, once deemed absolute, between the

living and the not-living is converted into a relative distinction; and

Life as manifested in the organism is seen to be only a specialized

form of the Universal Life.

The conception of matter as dead or inert belongs, indeed, to an order

of thought that modern knowledge has entirely outgrown. If the study

of physics has taught us anything, it is that nowhere in Nature is

inertness or quiescence to be found. All is quivering with energy.

From particle to particle without cessation the movement passes on,

reappearing from moment to moment under myriad Protean forms, while

the rearrangements of particles incidental to the movement constitute

the qualitative differences among things. Now in the language of

physics all motions of matter are manifestations of force, to which

we can assign neither beginning nor end. Matter is indestructible,

motion is continuous, and beneath both these universal truths lies

the fundamental truth that force is persistent. The farthest reach in

science that has ever been made was made when it was proved by Herbert

Spencer that the law of universal evolution is a necessary consequence

of the persistence of force. It has shown us that all the myriad

phenomena of the universe, all its weird and subtle changes, in all

their minuteness from moment to moment, in all their vastness from age

to age, are the manifestations of a single animating principle that is

both infinite and eternal.

By what name, then, shall we call this animating principle of the

universe, this eternal source of phenomena? Using the ordinary language

of physics, we have just been calling it Force, but such a term in no

wise enlightens us. Taken by itself it is meaningless; it acquires

its meaning only from the relations in which it is used. It is a mere

symbol, like the algebraic expression which stands for a curve. Of

what, then, is it the symbol?

The words which we use are so enwrapped in atmospheres of subtle

associations that they are liable to sway the direction of our thoughts

in ways of which we are often unconscious. It is highly desirable

that physics should have a word as thoroughly abstract, as utterly

emptied of all connotations of personality, as possible, so that it

may be used like a mathematical symbol. Such a word is Force. But what

we are now dealing with is by no means a scientific abstraction. It

is the most concrete and solid of realities, the one Reality which

underlies all appearances, and from the presence of which we can never

escape. Suppose, then, that we translate our abstract terminology into

something that is more concrete. Instead of the force which persists,

let us speak of the Power which is always and everywhere manifested

in phenomena. Our question, then, becomes, What is this infinite and

eternal Power like? What kind of language shall we use in describing

it? Can we regard it as in any wise "material," or can we speak of its

universal and ceaseless activity as in any wise the working of a "blind

necessity"? For here, at length, we have penetrated to the innermost

kernel of the problem; and upon the answer must depend our mental

attitude toward the mystery of existence.

The answer is that we cannot regard the infinite and eternal Power as

in any wise "material," nor can we attribute its workings to "blind

necessity." The eternal source of phenomena is the source of what we

see and hear and touch; it is the source of what we call matter, but

it cannot itself be material. Matter is but the generalized name we

give to those modifications which we refer immediately to an unknown

something outside of ourselves. It was long ago shown that all the

qualities of matter are what the mind makes them, and have no existence

as such apart from the mind. In the deepest sense all that we really

know is mind, and as Clifford would say, what we call the material

universe is simply an imperfect picture in our minds of a real universe

of mind-stuff.[22] Our own mind we know directly; our neighbour's mind

we know by inference; that which is external to both is a Power hidden

from sense, which causes states of consciousness that are similar

in both. Such states of consciousness we call material qualities,

and matter is nothing but the sum of such qualities. To speak of the

hidden Power itself as "material" is therefore not merely to state

what is untrue,--it is to talk nonsense. We are bound to conceive

of the Eternal Reality in terms of the only reality that we know,

or else refrain from conceiving it under any form whatever. But the

latter alternative is clearly impossible.[23] We might as well try to

escape from the air in which we breathe as to expel from consciousness

the Power which is manifested throughout what we call the material

universe. But the only conclusion we can consistently hold is that this

is the very same power "which in ourselves wells up under the form of

consciousness."

In the nature-worship of primitive men, beneath all the crudities of

thought by which it was overlaid and obscured, there was thus after

all an essential germ of truth which modern philosophy is constrained

to recognize and reiterate. As the unity of Nature has come to be

demonstrated, innumerable finite powers, once conceived as psychical

and deified, have been generalized into a single infinite Power that

is still thought of as psychical. From the crudest polytheism we have

thus, by a slow evolution, arrived at pure monotheism,--the recognition

of the eternal God indwelling in the universe, in whom we live and move

and have our being.

But in thus conceiving of God as psychical, as a Being with whom the

human soul in the deepest sense owns kinship, we must beware of too

carelessly ascribing to Him those specialized psychical attributes

characteristic of humanity, which one and all imply limitation and

weakness. We must not forget the warning of the prophet Isaiah: "My

thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith

the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my

ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

Omniscience, for example, has been ascribed to God in every system of

theism; yet the psychical nature to which all events, past, present,

and future, can be always simultaneously present is clearly as far

removed from the limited and serial psychical nature of Man as the

heavens are higher than the earth. We are not so presumptuous,

therefore, as to attempt, with some theologians of the anthropomorphic

school, to inquire minutely into the character of the divine decrees

and purposes. But our task would be ill-performed were nothing more

to be said about that craving after a final cause which we have seen

to be an essential element in Man's religious nature. It remains to

be shown that there is a reasonableness in the universe, that in the

orderly sequence of events there is a meaning which appeals to our

human intelligence. Without adopting Paley's method, which has been

proved inadequate, we may nevertheless boldly aim at an object like

that at which Paley aimed. Caution is needed, since we are dealing with

a symbolic conception as to which the very point in question is whether

there is any reality that answers to it. The problem is a hard one, but

here we suddenly get powerful help from the doctrine of evolution, and

especially from that part of it known as the Darwinian theory.

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