Now this I conceive to have been a fully valid argument at the time it was

published, and indeed the most convincing of all the arguments in favour of

Theism. But, as already so frequently pointed out, the considerations

adduced in Chapter IV. of the present work are utterly destructive of this

argument. For this argument assumes, rightly enough, that the only

alternative we have in choosing our hypothesis concerning the final

explanation of things is either to regard that explanation as Intelligence

or as Fortuity. This, I say, was a legitimate argument a few months ago,

because up to that time no one had shown that strictly natural causes, as

distinguished from chances, could conceivably be able to produce a cosmos;

and although the several previous writers to whom Professor Flint

alludes--and he might have alluded to others in this

connection--entertained a dim anticipation of the fact that natural causes

might alone be sufficient to produce the observed universe, still these dim

anticipations were worthless as _arguments_ so long as it remained

impossible to suggest any natural _principle_ whereby such a result could

have been conceivably effected by such causes. But it is evident that

Professor Flint's time-honoured argument is now completely overthrown,

unless it can be proved that there is some radical error in the reasoning

whereby I have endeavoured to show that natural causes not only _may_, but

_must_, have produced existing order. The overthrow is complete, because

the very groundwork of the argument in question is knocked away; a third

possibility, of the nature of a necessity, is introduced, and therefore the

alternative is no longer between Intelligence and Fortuity, but between

Intelligence and Natural Causation. Whereas the overwhelming strength of

the argument from Order has hitherto consisted in the supposition of

Intelligence as the one and only conceivable cause of the integration of

things, my exposition in Chapter IV. has shown that such integration must

have been due, at all events in a relative or proximate sense, to a

strictly physical cause--the persistence of force and the consequent

self-evolution of natural law. And the question as to whether or not

Intelligence may not have been the absolute or ultimate cause is manifestly

a question altogether alien to the argument from Order; for if existing

order admits of being accounted for, in a relative or proximate sense, by

merely physical causes, the argument from a relative or proximate order is

not at liberty to infer or to assume the existence of any higher or more

ultimate cause. Although, therefore, in Chapter V., I have been careful to

point out that the fact of existing order having been due to proximate or

natural causes does not actually _disprove_ the possible existence of an

ultimate and supernatural cause, still it must be carefully observed that

this _negative_ fact cannot possibly justify any _positive_ inference to

the existence of such a cause.

Thus, upon the whole, it may be said, without danger of reasonable dispute,

that as the argument from Order has hitherto derived its immense weight

entirely from the fact that Intelligence appeared to be the one and only

cause sufficient to produce the observed integration of the cosmos, this

immense weight has now been completely counterpoised by the demonstration

that other causes of a strictly physical kind must have been instrumental,

if not themselves alone sufficient, to produce this integration, So that,

just as in the case of Astronomy the demonstration of the one natural

principle of gravity was sufficient to classify under one physical

explanation several observed facts which many persons had previously

attributed to supernatural causes; and just as in the more complex science

of Geology the demonstration of the one principle of uniformitarianism was

sufficient to explain, without the aid of supernaturalism, a still greater

number of facts; and, lastly, just as in the case of the still more complex

science of Biology the demonstration of the one principle of natural

selection was sufficient to marshal under one scientific, or natural,

hypothesis an almost incalculable number of facts which were previously

explained by the metaphysical hypothesis of supernatural design; so in the

science which includes all other sciences, and which we may term the

science of Cosmology, I assert with confidence that in the one principle of

the persistence of force we have a demonstrably harmonising principle,

whereby all the facts within our experience admit of being collocated under

one natural explanation, without there being the smallest reason to

attribute these facts to any supernatural cause.

But perhaps the immense change which these considerations must logically be

regarded as having produced in the speculative standing of the argument

from teleology will be better appreciated if I continue to quote from

Professor Flint's very forcible and thoroughly logical exposition of the

previous standing of this argument. He says:--

"To ascribe the origination of order to _law_ is a manifest evasion of the

real problem. Law is order. Law is the very thing to be explained. The

question is--Has law a reason, or is it without a reason? The unperverted

human mind cannot believe it to be without a reason."

I do not know where a more terse and accurate statement of the case could

be found; and to my mind the question so lucidly put admits of the direct

answer--Law clearly has a reason of a purely physical kind. And therefore I

submit that the following quotation which Professor Flint makes from

Professor Jevons, logical as it was when written, must now be regarded as

embodying an argument which is obsolete.

"As an unlimited number of atoms can be placed in unlimited space in an

unlimited number of modes of distribution, there must, even granting matter

to have had all its laws from eternity, have been at some moment in time,

out of the unlimited choices and distributions possible, that one choice

and distribution which yielded the fair and orderly universe that now

exists. Only out of rational choice can order have come."

But clearly the alternative is now no longer one between chance and choice.

If natural laws arise by way of necessary consequence from the persistence

of a single self-existing substance, it becomes a matter of scientific

(though not of logical) demonstration that "the fair and orderly universe

that now exists" is the one and only universe that, in the nature of

things, _can_ exist. But to continue this interesting passage from Dr.

Flint's work--interesting not only because it sets forth the previous

standing of this subject with so much clearness, but also because the work

is of such very recent publication.

"The most common mode, perhaps, of evading the problem which order presents

to reason is the indication of the process by which the order has been

realised. From Democritus to the latest Darwinian there have been men who

supposed they had completely explained away the evidences of design in

nature when they had described the physical antecedents of the arrangements

appealed to as evidences. Aristotle showed the absurdity of this

supposition more than 2200 years ago."

Now this is a perfectly valid criticism on all such previous non-theistical

arguments as were drawn from an "indication of the process by which the

order has been realised;" for in all these previous arguments there was an

absence of any physical explanation of the _ultimate_ cause of the process

contemplated, and so long as this ultimate cause remained obscure, although

the evidence of design might by these arguments have been excluded from

particular processes, the evidence of design could not be similarly

excluded from the ultimate cause of these processes. Thus, for instance, it

is doubtless illogical, as Professor Flint points out, in any Darwinian to

argue that because his theory of natural selection supplies him with a

natural explanation of the process whereby organisms have been adapted to

their surroundings, therefore this process need not itself have been

designed. That is to say, in general terms, as insisted upon in the

foregoing essay, the discovery of a natural law or orderly process cannot

of itself justify the inference that this law or method of orderly

procedure is not itself a product of supernatural Intelligence; but, on the

contrary, the very existence of such orderly processes, considered only in

relation to their products, must properly be regarded as evidence of the

best possible kind in favour of supernatural Intelligence, _provided that

no natural cause can be suggested as adequate to explain the origin of

these processes_. But this is precisely what the persistence of force,

considered as a natural cause, must be pronounced as necessarily competent

to achieve; for we can clearly see that all these processes obviously must

and actually do derive their origin from this one causative principle. And

whether or not behind this one causative principle of natural law there

exists a still more ultimate cause in the form of a supernatural

Intelligence, this is a question altogether foreign to any argument from

teleology, seeing that teleology, in so far as it is _teleology_, can only

rest upon the observed facts of the cosmos; and if these facts admit of

being explained by the action of a single causative principle inherent in

the cosmos itself, teleology is not free to assume the action of any

causative principle of a more ultimate character. Still, as I have

repeatedly insisted, these considerations do not entitle us dogmatically to

deny the existence of some such more ultimate principle; all that these

considerations do is to remove any rational argument from teleological

sources that any such more ultimate principle exists. Therefore I am, of

course, quite at one with Professor Flint when he says Professor Huxley

"admits that the most thoroughgoing evolutionist must at least assume 'a

primordial molecular arrangement of which all the phenomena of the universe

are the consequences,' and 'is thereby at the mercy of the theologist, who

can defy him to disprove that this primordial molecular arrangement was not

intended to involve the phenomena of the universe.' Granting this much, he

is logically bound to grant more. If the entire evolution of the universe

may have been intended, the several stages of its evolution may have been

intended, and they may have been intended for their own sakes as well as

for the sake of the collective evolution or its final result." Now that

such _may have been_ the case, I have been careful to insist in Chapter V.;

all I am now concerned with is to show that, in view of the considerations

adduced in Chapter IV., there is no longer any evidence to prove, or even

to indicate, that such _has been_ the case. And with reference to this

opportune quotation from Professor Huxley I may remark, that the

"thoroughgoing evolutionist" is now no longer "at the mercy of the

theologian" to any further extent than that of not being able to disprove a

purely metaphysical hypothesis, which is as certainly superfluous, in any

scientific sense, as the fundamental data of science are certainly true.

It may seem almost unnecessary to extend this postscript by pursuing

further the criticism on Professor Flint's exposition in the light of "a

single new reason ... for the denial of design" which he challenges; but

there are nevertheless one or two other points which it seems desirable to

consider. Professor Flint writes:--

"M. Comte imagines that he has shown the inference from design, from the

order and stability of the solar system, to be unwarranted, when he has

pointed out the physical conditions through which that order and stability

are secured, and the process by which they have been obtained.... Now the

assertion that the peculiarities which make the solar system stable and the

earth habitable have flowed naturally and necessarily from the simple

mutual gravity of the several parts of nebulous matter is one which greatly

requires proof, but which has never received it. In saying this, we do not

challenge the proof of the nebular theory itself. That theory may or may

not be true. We are quite willing to suppose it true--to grant that it has

been scientifically established. What we maintain is, that even if we admit

unreservedly that the earth and the whole system to which it belongs once

existed in a nebulous state, from which they were gradually evolved into

their present condition conformably to physical laws, we are in no degree

entitled to infer from the admission the conclusion which Comte and others

have drawn. The man who fancies that the nebular theory implies that the

law of gravitation, or any other physical law, has of itself determined the

course of cosmical evolution, so that there is no need for believing in the

existence and operation of a divine mind, proves merely that he is not

exempt from reasoning very illogically. The solar system could only have

been evolved out of its nebulous state into that which it now presents if

the nebula possessed a certain size, mass, form, and constitution, if it

was neither too fluid nor too tenacious--if its atoms were all numbered,

its elements all weighed, its constituents all disposed in due relation to

one another; that is to say, only if the nebula was in reality as much a

system of order, which Intelligence alone could account for, as the worlds

which have been developed from it. The origin of the nebula thus presents

itself to reason as a problem which demands solution no less than the

origin of the planets. All the properties and laws of the nebula require to

be accounted for. What origin are we to give them? It must be either reason

or unreason. We may go back as far as we please, but, at every step and

stage of the regress we must find ourselves confronted with the same

question, the same alternative--intelligent purpose or colossal chance."

Now, so far as Comte is here guilty of the fallacy I have already dwelt

upon of building a destructive argument upon a demonstration of mere

orderly processes in nature, as distinguished from a demonstration of the

natural cause of these processes, it is not for me to defend him. All we

can say with regard to him in this connection is, that, having a sort of

scientific presentiment that if the knowledge of his day were sufficiently

advanced it would prove destructive of supernaturalism in the higher and

more abstruse provinces of physical speculation, as it had previously

proved in the lower and less abstruse of these provinces, Comte allowed his

inferences to outrun their legitimate basis. Being necessarily ignorant of

the one generating cause of orderly processes in nature, he improperly

allowed himself to found conclusions on the basis of these processes alone,

which could only be properly founded on the basis of their cause. But

freely granting this much to Professor Flint, and the rest of his remarks

in this connection will be found, in view of the altered standing of this

subject, to be open to amendment. For, in the first place, no one need now

resort to the illogical supposition that "the law of gravitation or any

other physical law has of itself determined the course of cosmical

evolution." What we may argue, and what must be conceded to us, is, that

the common substratum of all physical laws was at one time sufficient to

produce the simplest physical laws, and that throughout the whole course of

evolution this common substratum has always been sufficient to produce the

more complex laws in the ascending series of their ever-increasing number

and variety. And hence it becomes obvious that the "origin of the nebula"

presents a difficulty neither greater nor less than "the origin of the

planets," since, "if we may go back as far as we please," we can entertain

no _scientific_ doubt that we should come to a time, prior even to the

nebula, when the substance of the solar system existed merely as

such--_i.e._, in an almost or in a wholly undifferentiated form, the

product, no doubt, of endless cycles of previous evolutions and

dissolutions of formal differentiations. Therefore, although it is

undoubtedly true that "the solar system could only have been evolved out of

its nebulous state into that which it now presents if the nebula possessed"

those particular attributes which were necessity to the evolution of such a

product, this consideration is clearly deprived of all its force from our

present point of view. For unless it can be shown that there is some

independent reason for believing these particular attributes--which must

have been of a more and more simple a character the further we recede in

time--to have been miraculously imposed, the analogy is overwhelming that

they all progressively arose _by way of natural law_. And if so, the

universe which has been thus produced is the only universe in this

particular point of space and time which could have been thus produced.

That it is an _orderly_ universe we have seen _ad nauseam_ to be no

argument in favour of its having been a _designed_ universe, so long as the

cause of its order--general laws--can be seen to admit of a natural

explanation.

Thus there is clearly nothing to be gained on the side of teleology by

going back to the dim and dismal birth of the nebula; for no "thoroughgoing

evolutionist" would for one moment entertain the supposition that natural

law in the simplest phases of its development partook any more of a

miraculous character than it does in its more recent and vastly more

complex phases. The absence of knowledge must not be used as equivalent to

its presence; and if analogy can be held to justify any inference

whatsoever, surely we may conclude with confidence that if existing general

laws admit of being conceivably attributed to a natural genesis, the

primordial laws of a condensing nebula must have been the same.

There is another passage in Professor Flint's work to which it seems

desirable to refer. It begins thus: "There is the law of heredity: like

produces like. But why is there such a law? Why does like produce like?...

Physical science cannot answer these questions; but that is no reason why

they should not both be asked and answered. I can conceive of no other

intelligent answer being given to them than that there is a God of wisdom,

who designed that the world should be for all ages the abode of life," &c.

Now here we have in another form that same vicious tendency to take refuge

in the more obscure cases of physical causation as proofs of supernatural

design--the obscurity in this case arising from the _complexity_ of the

causes and work, as in the former case it arose from their _remoteness_ in

time. But in both cases the same answer is patent, viz., that although

"physical science cannot answer these questions" by pointing out the

precise sequence of causes and effects, physical science is nevertheless

quite as certain that this precise sequence arises in its last resort from

the persistence of force, as she would be were she able to trace the whole

process. And therefore, in view of the considerations set forth in Chapter

IV. of this work, it is no longer open to Professor Flint or to any other

writer logically to assert--"I can conceive of no other intelligent answer

being given to" such questions "than that there is a God of wisdom."

The same answer awaits this author's further disquisition on other

biological laws, so it is needless to make any further quotations in this

connection. But there is one other principle embodied in some of these

passages which it seems undesirable to overlook. It is said, for instance,

"Natural selection might have had no materials, or altogether insufficient

materials, to work with, or the circumstances might have been such that the

lowest organisms were the best endowed for the struggle for life. If the

earth were covered with water, fish would survive and higher creatures

would perish."

Now the principle here embodied--viz., that had the conditions of evolution

been other than they were, the results would have been different--is, of

course, true; but clearly, on the view that _all_ natural laws spring from

the persistence of force, no other conditions than those which actually

occurred, or are now occurring, could ever have occurred,--the whole course

of evolution must have been, in all its phases and in all its processes, an

unconditional necessity. But if it is said, How fortunate that the outcome,

being unconditionally necessary, has happened to be so good as it is; I

answer that the remark is legitimate enough if it is not intended to convey

an implication that the general quality of the outcome points to beneficent

design as to its cause. Such an implication would not be legitimate,

because, in the first place, we have no means of knowing in how many cases,

whether in planets, stars, or systems, the course of evolution has failed

to produce life and mind--the one known case of this earth, whether or not

it is the one success out of millions of abortions, being of necessity the

only known case. In how vastly greater a number of cases the course of

evolution may have been, so to speak, deflected by some even slight, though

strictly necessary, cause from producing self-conscious intelligence, it is

impossible to conjecture. But this consideration, be it observed, is not

here adduced in order to _disprove_ the assertion that telluric evolution

has been effected by Intelligence; it is merely adduced to prove that such

an assertion cannot rest on the single known result of telluric evolution,

so long as an infinite number of the results of evolution elsewhere remain

unknown.

And now, lastly, it must be observed that even in the one case with which

we are acquainted, the net product of evolution is not such as can of

itself point us to _beneficent_ design. Professor Flint, indeed, in common

with theologians generally, argues that it does. I will therefore briefly

criticise his remarks on this subject, believing, as I do, that they form a

very admirable illustration of what I conceive to be a general

principle--viz., that minds which already believe in the existence of a

Deity are, as a rule, not in a position to view this question of

beneficence in nature in a perfectly impartial manner. For if the existence

of a Deity is presupposed, a mind with any particle of that most noble

quality--reverence--will naturally hesitate to draw conclusions that

partake of the nature of blasphemy; and therefore, unconsciously perhaps to

themselves, they endeavour in various ways to evade the evidence which, if

honestly and impartially considered, can scarcely fail to negative the

argument from beneficence in the universe.

Professor Flint argues that the "law of over-production," and the

consequent struggle for existence, being "the reason why the world is so

wonderfully rich in the most varied forms of life," is "a means to an end

worthy of Divine Wisdom." "Although involving privation, pain, and

conflict, its final result is order and beauty. All the perfections of

sentient creatures are represented as due to it. Through it the lion has

gained its strength, the deer its speed, and the dog its sagacity. The

inference seems natural that these perfections were designed to be attained

by it; that this state of struggle was ordained for the sake of the

advantages which it is actually seen to produce. The suffering which the

conflict involves may indicate that God has made even animals for some

higher end than happiness--that he cares for animal perfection as well as

for animal enjoyment; but it affords no reason for denying that the ends

which the conflict actually serves it was intended to serve."

Now, whatever may be thought of such an argument as an attempted

justification of beneficent design already on independent ground believed

to exist, it is manifestly no argument at all as establishing any

presumption in favour of such design, unless it could be shown that the

Deity is so far limited in his power of adapting means to ends that the

particular method adopted in this case was the best, all things considered,

that he was able to adopt. For supposing the Deity to be, what Professor

Flint maintains that he is--viz., omnipotent--and there can be no inference

more transparent than that such wholesale suffering, for whatever ends

designed, exhibits an incalculably greater deficiency of beneficence in the

divine character than that which we know in any, the very worst, of human

characters. For let us pause for one moment to think of what suffering in

nature means. Some hundreds of millions of years ago some millions of

millions of animals must be supposed to have been sentient. Since that time

till the present, there must have been millions and millions of generations

of millions of millions of individuals. And throughout all this period of

incalculable duration, this inconceivable host of sentient organisms have

been in a state of unceasing battle, dread, ravin, pain. Looking to the

outcome, we find that more than half of the species which have survived the

ceaseless struggle are parasitic in their habits, lower and insentient

forms of life feasting on higher and sentient forms; we find teeth and

talons whetted for slaughter, hooks and suckers moulded for

torment--everywhere a reign of terror, hunger, and sickness, with oozing

blood and quivering limbs, with gasping breath and eyes of innocence that

dimly close in deaths of brutal torture! Is it said that there are

compensating enjoyments? I care not to strike the balance; the enjoyments I

plainly perceive to be as physically necessary as the pains, and this

whether or not evolution is due to design. Therefore all I am concerned

with is to show, that if such a state of things is due to "omnipotent

design," the omnipotent designer must be concluded, so far as reason can

infer, to be non-beneficent. And this it is not difficult to show. When I

see a rabbit panting in the iron jaws of a spring-trap, I abhor the

devilish nature of the being who, with full powers of realising what pain

means, can deliberately employ his noble faculties of invention in

contriving a thing so hideously cruel. But if I could believe that there is

a being who, with yet higher faculties of thought and knowledge, and with

an unlimited choice of means to secure his ends, has contrived untold

thousands of mechanisms no less diabolical than a spring-trap; I should

call that being a fiend, were all the world besides to call him God. Am I

told that this is arrogance? It is nothing of the kind; it is plain

morality, and to say otherwise would be to hide our eyes from murder

because we dread the Murderer. Am I told that I am not competent to judge

the purposes of the Almighty? I answer that if these are _purposes_, I _am_

able to judge of them so far as I can see; and if I am expected to judge of

his purposes when they appear to be beneficent, I am in consistency obliged

also to judge of them when they appear to be malevolent. And it can be no

possible extenuation of the latter to point to the "final result" as "order

and beauty," so long as the means adopted by the "_Omnipotent_ Designer"

are known to have been so revolting. All that we could legitimately assert

in this case would be, that so far as observation can extend, "he cares for

animal perfection" _to the exclusion of_ "animal enjoyment," and even to

the _total disregard_ of animal suffering. But to assert this would merely

be to deny beneficence as an attribute of God.

The dilemma, therefore, which Epicurus has stated with great lucidity, and

which Professor Flint quotes, appears to me so obvious as scarcely to

require statement. The dilemma is, that, looking to the facts of organic

nature, theists must abandon their belief, either in the divine

omnipotence, or in the divine beneficence. And yet, such is the warping

effect of preformed beliefs on the mind, that even so candid a writer as

Professor Flint can thus write of this most obvious truth:--

"The late Mr. John Stuart Mill, for no better reason than that nature

sometimes drowns men and burns them, and that childbirth is a painful

process, maintained that God could not possibly be infinite. I shall not

say what I think of the shallowness and self-conceit displayed by such an

argument. What it proves is not the finiteness of God, but the littleness

of man. The mind of man never shows itself so small as when it tries to

measure the attributes and limit the greatness of its Creator."

But the argument--or rather the truism--in question is an attempt to do

neither the one nor the other; it simply asserts the patent fact that, if

God is omnipotent, and so had an unlimited choice of means whereby to

accomplish the ends of "animal perfection," "animal enjoyment," and the

rest; then the fact of his having chosen to adopt the means which he has

adopted is a fact which is wholly incompatible with his beneficence. And on

the other hand, if he is beneficent, the fact of his having adopted these

means in order that the sum of ultimate enjoyment might exceed the sum of

concomitant pain, is a fact which is wholly incompatible with his

omnipotence. To a man who already believes, on independent grounds, in an

omnipotent and beneficent Deity, it is no doubt possible to avoid facing

this dilemma, and to rest content with the assumption that, in a sense

beyond the reach of human reason, or even of human conception, the two

horns of this dilemma must be united in some transcendental reconciliation;

but if a man undertakes to reason on the subject at all, as he must and

ought when the question is as to the _existence_ of such a Deity, then

clearly he has no alternative but to allow that the dilemma is a hopeless

one. With inverted meaning, therefore, may we quote Professor Flint's words

against himself:--"The mind of man never shows itself so small as when it

tries to measure the attributes ... of its Creator;" for certainly, if

Professor Flint's usually candid mind has had a Creator, it nowhere

displays the "littleness" of prejudice in so marked a degree as it does

when "measuring his attributes."

Thus in a subsequent chapter he deals at greater length with this

difficulty of the apparent failure of beneficence in nature, arguing, in

effect, that as pain and suffering "serve many good ends" in the way of

warning animals of danger to life, &c., therefore we ought to conclude

that, if we could see farther, we should see pain and suffering to be

unmitigated good, or nearly so. Now this argument, as I have previously

said, may possibly be admissible as between Christians or others who

_already_ believe in the existence and in the beneficence of God; but it is

only the blindest prejudice which can fail to perceive that the argument is

quite without relevancy when the question is as to the _evidences_ of such

existence and the _evidences_ of such character. For where the _fact_ of

such an existence and character is the question in dispute, it clearly can

be no argument to state its bare assumption by saying that if we knew more

of nature we should find the relative preponderance of good over evil to be

immeasurably greater than that which we now perceive. The platform of

argument on which the question of "Theism" must be discussed is that of the

observable Cosmos; and if, as Dr. Flint is constrained to admit, there is a

fearful spectacle of misery presented by this Cosmos, it becomes mere

question-begging to gloss over this aspect of the subject by any vague

assumption that the misery must have some unobservable ends of so

transcendentally beneficent a nature, that were they known they would

justify the means. Indeed, this kind of discussion seems to me worse than

useless for the purposes which the Professor has in view; for it only

serves by contrast to throw out into stronger relief the natural and the

unstrained character of the adverse interpretation of the facts. According

to this adverse interpretation, sentiency has been evolved by natural

selection to secure the benefits which are pointed out by Professor Flint;

and therefore the fact of this, its cause, having been a _mindless_ cause,

clearly implies that the _restriction_ of pain and suffering cannot be an

active principle, or a _vera causa_, as between species and species, though

it must be such within the limits of the same organism, and to a lesser

extent within the limits of the same species. And this is just what we find

to be the case. Therefore, without the need of resorting to wholly

arbitrary assumptions concerning transcendental reconciliations between

apparently needless suffering and a supposed almighty beneficence, the

non-theistic hypothesis is saved by merely opening our eyes to the

observable facts around us, and there seeing that pain and misery, alike in

the benefits which they bring and in the frightful excesses which they

manifest, play just that part in nature which this hypothesis would lead us

to expect.

Therefore, to sum up these considerations on physical suffering, the case

between a theist and a sceptic as to the question of divine beneficence is

seen to be a case of extreme simplicity. The theist believes in such

beneficence by purposely concealing from his mind all adverse

evidence--feeling, on the one side, that to entertain the doubt to which

this evidence points would be to hold dalliance with blasphemy, and, on the

other side, that the subject is of so transcendental a nature that, in view

of so great a risk, it is better to avoid impartial reasoning upon it. A

sceptic, on the other hand, is under no such obligation to preconceived

ideas, and is therefore free to draw unbiassed inferences as to the

character of God, if he exists, to the extent which such character is

indicated by the sphere of observable nature. And, as I have said, when the

subject is so viewed, the inference is unavoidable that, so far as human

reason can penetrate, God, if he exists, must either be non-infinite in his

resources, or non-beneficent in his designs. Therefore it is evident that

when the _being_ of God, as distinguished from his _character_, is the

subject in dispute, Theism can gain nothing by an appeal to evidences of

_beneficent_ designs. If such evidences were unequivocal, then indeed the

argument which they would establish to an intelligent cause of nature would

be almost irresistible; for the fact of the external world being in harmony

with the moral nature of man would be unaccountable except on the

supposition of both having derived their origin from a common _moral_

source; and morality implies intelligence. But as it is, all the so-called

evidence of divine beneficence in nature is, without any exception of a

kind that is worthless as proving _design_; for all the facts admit of

being explained equally well on the supposition of their having been due to

purely physical processes, acting through the various biological laws which

we are now only beginning to understand. And further than this, so far are

these facts from proving the existence of a moral cause, that, in view of

the alternative just stated, they even ground a positive argument to its

negation. For, as we have seen, all these facts are just of such a kind as

we should expect to be the facts, on the supposition of their having been

due to natural causes--_i.e._, causes which could have had no moral

solicitude for animal happiness as such. Let us now, in conclusion, dwell

on this antithesis at somewhat greater length.

If natural selection has played any large share in the process of organic

evolution, it is evident that animal enjoyment, being an important factor

in this natural cause, must always have been furthered _to the extent in

which it was necessary for the adaptation of organisms to their

environment_ that it should. And such we invariably find to be the limits

within which animal enjoyments _are_ confined. On the other hand, so long

as the adaptations in question are not complete, so long must more or less

of suffering be entailed--the capacity for suffering, as for enjoyment,

being no doubt itself a product of natural selection. But as all specific

types are perpetually struggling together, it is manifest that the

competition must prevent any considerable number of types from becoming so

far adapted to their environment of other types as to become exempt from

suffering as a result of this competition. There being no one integrating

cause of an intelligent or moral nature to supply the conditions of

happiness to each organic type without the misery of this competition, such

happiness as animals have is derived from the heavy expenditure of pain

suffered by themselves and by their ancestry.

Thus, whether we look to animal pleasures or to animal pains, the result is

alike just what we should expect to find on the supposition of these

pleasures and pains having been due to necessary and physical, as

distinguished from intelligent and moral, antecedents; for how different is

that which is from that which might have been! Not only might beneficent

selection have eliminated the countless species of parasites which now

destroy the health and happiness of all the higher organisms; not only

might survival of the fittest, in a moral sense, have determined that

rapacious and carnivorous animals should yield their places in the world to

harmless and gentle ones; not only might life have been without sickness

and death without pain;--but how might the exigences and the welfare of

species have been consulted by the structures and the habits of one

another! But no! Amid all the millions of mechanisms and habits in organic

nature, all of which are so beautifully adapted to the needs of the species

presenting them, there is _no single instance_ of any mechanism or habit

occurring in one species for the exclusive benefit of another

species--although, as we should expect on the non-theistic theory, there

are some comparatively few cases of a mechanism or a habit which is of

benefit to its possessor being also utilised by other species. Yet, on the

beneficent-design theory, it is impossible to understand why, when all

mechanisms and habits in the same species are invariably correlated for the

benefit of that species, there should never be any such correlation between

mechanisms and habits of different species. For how magnificent, how

sublime a display of supreme beneficence would nature have afforded if all

her sentient animals had been so inter-related as to minister to each

other's happiness! Organic species might then have been likened to a

countless multitude of voices, all singing to their Creator in one

harmonious psalm of praise. But, as it is, we see no vestige of such

correlation; every species is for itself, and for itself alone--an outcome

of the always and everywhere fiercely raging struggle for life.

So much, then, for the case of _physical_ evil; but Dr. Flint also treats

of the case of _moral_ evil. Let us see what this well-equipped writer can

make of this old problem in the present year of grace. He says--"But it

will be objected, could not God have made moral creatures who would be

certain always to choose what is right, always to acquiesce in His holy

will?... Well, far be it from me to deny that God could have originated a

sinless moral system.... But if questioned as to why He has not done

better, I feel no shame in confessing my ignorance. It seems to me that

when you have resolved the problem of the origin of moral evil into the

question, Why has God not originated a moral universe in which the lowest

moral being would be as excellent as the archangels are? you have at once

shown it to be _speculatively incapable of solution_ [italics mine], and

practically without importance[!]. The question is one which would

obviously give rise to another, Why has God not created only moral beings

as much superior to the archangels as they are superior to the lowest

Australian aborigines? But no complete answer can be given to a question

which may be followed by a series of similar questions to which there is no

end. We have, besides, neither the facts nor the faculties to answer such

questions."[46]

Now I confess that this argument presents to my mind more of subtlety than

sense. I had previously imagined that the archangels were supposed to enjoy

a condition of moral existence which might fairly be thought to remove them

from any association with that of the Australian aborigines. But as this

question is one that belongs to Divinity, I am here quite prepared to bow

to Professor Flint's authority--hoping, however, that he is prepared to

take the responsibility should the archangels ever care to accuse me of

calumny. But, as a logician, I must be permitted to observe, that if I ask,

Why am I not better than I am? it is no answer to tell me, Because the

archangels are not better than they are. For aught that I know to the

contrary, the archangels may be morally _perfect_--as an authority in such

matters has told us that even "just men" may become,--and therefore, for

aught that I know to the contrary, Professor Flint's regress of moral

degrees _ad infinitum_, may be an ontological absurdity. But granting, for

the sake of argument, that archangels fall infinitely short of moral

perfection, and I should only be able to see in the fact a hopeless

aggravation of my previous difficulty. If it is hard to reconcile the

supreme goodness of God with the moral turpitude of man, much more would it

be hard to do so if his very angels are depraved. Therefore, if the

reasonable question which I originally put "may be followed by a series of

similar questions to which there is no end," the goodness of God must

simply be pronounced a delusion. For the question which I originally put

was no mere flimsy question of a stupidly unreal description. My own moral

depravity is a matter of painful certainty to me, and I want to know why,

if there is a God of infinite power and goodness, he should have made me

thus. And in answer I am told that my question is "practically without

importance," because there may be an endless series of beings who, in their

several degrees, are in a similar predicament to myself. Perhaps they are;

but if so, the moral evil with which I am directly acquainted is made all

the blacker by the fact that it is thus but a drop in an infinite ocean of

moral imperfection. When, therefore, Professor Flint goes on to say, "We

ought to be content if we can show that what God has done is wise and

right, and not perplex ourselves as to why He has not done an infinity of

other things," I answer, Most certainly; but _can_ we show that what God

has done is wise and right? Unquestionably not. That what he has done _may_

be wise and right, could we see his whole scheme of things, no careful

thinker will deny; but to suppose it can be _shown_ that he has done this,

is an instance of purblind fanaticism which is most startling in a work on

_Theism_. "The best world, _we may be assured_, that our fancies can feign,

would in reality be far inferior to the world God has made, whatever

imperfections we may think we see in it." Are we leading a sermon on the

datum "God is love"? No; but a work on the questions, Is there a God? and,

if so, Is he a God of love? And yet the work is written by a man who

evidently tries to argue fairly. What shall we say of the despotism of

preformed beliefs? May we not say at least this much--that those who

endeavour to reconcile their theories of divine goodness with the facts of

human evil might well appropriate to themselves the words above quoted, "We

have neither the facts nor the faculties to answer such questions"? For the

"facts" indeed are absent, and the "faculties" of impartial thought must be

absent also, if this obvious truth cannot be seen--that "these questions"

only derive their "speculatively unanswerable" character from the rational

falsity of the manner by which it is sought to answer them. The "facts" of

our moral nature, so far as honest reason can perceive, belie the

hypothesis of Theism; and although the "faculties" of man may be forced by

prejudice into an acceptance of contradictory propositions, the truth is

obvious that only by the hypothesis of Evolution can that old-tied knot be

cut--the Origin of Evil. The form of Theism for which Dr. Flint is arguing

is the current form, viz., that there is a God who combines in himself the

attributes of _infinite_ power and _perfect_ goodness--a God at once

_omnipotent_ and _wholly_ moral. But, in view of the fact that moral evil

exists in man, the proposition that God is omnipotent and the proposition

that he is wholly moral become contradictory; and therefore the fact of

moral evil can only be met, either by abandoning one or other of these

propositions, or by altogether rejecting the hypothesis of Theism.

* * * * *

III.

THE SPECULATIVE STANDING OF MATERIALISM.

As a continuation of my criticism on Mr. Fiske's views, I think it is

desirable to add a few words concerning the speculative annihilation with

which he supposes Mr. Spencer's doctrines to have visited Materialism. Of

course it is a self-evident truism that the doctrine of Relativity is

destructive of Materialism, if by Materialism we mean a theory which

ignores that doctrine. In other words, the doctrine of Relativity, if

accepted, clearly excludes the doctrine that Matter, _as known

phenomenally_, is at all likely to be a true representative of whatever

_thing-in-itself_ it may be that constitutes Mind. But this position is

fully established by the doctrine of Relativity alone, and is therefore not

in the least affected, either by way of confirmation or otherwise, by Mr.

Spencer's extended doctrine of the Unknowable--it being only because the

latter doctrine presupposes the doctrine of Relativity that it is exclusive

of Materialism in the sense which has just been stated. So far, therefore,

Mr. Spencer's writings cannot be held to have any special bearing on the

doctrine of Materialism. Such a special bearing is only exerted by these

writings when they proceed to show that "it seems an imaginable possibility

that units of external force may be identical in nature with the units of

the force known as feeling." Let us then ascertain how far it is true that

the argument already quoted, and which leads to this conclusion, is utterly

destructive of Materialism.

In the first place, I may observe that this argument differs in several

instructive particulars from the anti-materialistic argument of Locke,

which we have already had occasion to consider. For while Locke erroneously

imagined that the test of inconceivability is of equivalent value

_wherever_ it is applied, save only where it conflicts with preconceived

ideas on the subject of Theism (see Appendix A.), Spencer, of course, is

much too careful a thinker to fall into so obvious a fallacy. But again, it

is curious to observe that in the anti-materialistic argument of Spencer

the test of inconceivability is used in a manner the precise opposite of

that in which it is used in the anti-materialistic argument of Locke. For

while the ground of Locke's argument is that Materialism must be untrue

because it is inconceivable that Matter (and Force) should be of a

psychical nature; the ground of Spencer's argument is that what we know as

Force (and Matter) may _not_ inconceivably be of a psychical nature. For my

own part, I think that Spencer's argument is, psychologically speaking, the

more valid of the two; but nevertheless I think that, logically speaking,

it is likewise invalid to a perceptibly great, and to a further indefinite,

degree. For the argument sets out with the reflection that we can only know

Matter and Force as symbols of consciousness, while we know consciousness

directly, and therefore that we can go further in conceivably translating

Matter and Force into terms of Mind than _vice versa_. And this is true,

but it does not therefore follow that the truth is more likely to lie in

the direction that thought can most easily travel. For although I am at one

with Mr. Spencer, whom Mr. Fiske follows, in regarding his test of

truth--viz., inconceivability of a negation--as the most _ultimate_ test

within our reach, I cannot agree with him that in this particular case it

is the most _trustworthy_ test within our reach. I cannot do so because the

reflection is forced upon me that, "as the terms which are contemplated in

this particular case are respectively the highest abstractions of objective

and of subjective existence, the test of truth in question is neutralised

by directly encountering the inconceivable relation that exists between

subject and object." Or, in other words, as before stated, "_whatever_ the

cause of Mind may be, we can clearly perceive it to be a subjective

necessity of the case that, in ultimate analysis, we should find it more

easy to conceive of this cause as resembling Mind--the only entity of which

we are directly conscious--than to conceive of it as any other entity of

which we are only indirectly conscious." When, therefore, Mr. Spencer

argues that "it is impossible to interpret inner existence in terms of

outer existence," while it is not so impossible to interpret outer

existence in terms of inner existence, the fact is merely what we should in

any case expect _à priori_ to be the fact, and therefore as a fact it is

not a very surprising discovery _à posteriori_. So that when Mr. Fiske

proceeds to make this fact the basis of his argument, that because we can

more conceivably regard objective existence as like in kind to subjective

existence than conversely, therefore we should conclude that there is a

corresponding probability in favour of the more conceivable proposition, I

demur to his argument. For, fully accepting the fact on which the argument

rests, and it seems to me, in view of what I have said, that the latter

assigns an altogether disproportionate value to the test of

inconceivability in this case. Far from endowing this test with so great an

authority in this case, I should regard it not only as perceptibly of very

small validity, but, as I have said, invalid to a degree which we have no

means of ascertaining. If it be asked, What other gauge of probability can

we have in this matter other than such a direct appeal to consciousness? I

answer, that this appeal being here _à priori_ invalid, we are left to fall

back upon the formal probability which is established by an application of

scientific canons to objective phenomena. (See footnote in § 14.) For, be

it carefully observed, Mr. Spencer, and his disciple Mr. Fiske, are not

idealists. Were this the case, of course the test of an immediate appeal to

consciousness would be to them the only test available. But, on the

contrary, as all the world knows, Mr. Spencer asserts the existence of an

unknown Reality, of which all phenomena are the manifestations.

Consequently, what we call Force and Matter are, according to this

doctrine, phenomenal manifestations of this objective Reality. That is to

say, for aught that we can know, Force and Matter may be anything within

the whole range of the possible; and the only limitation that can be

assigned to them is, that they are modes of existence which are independent

of, or objective to, our individual consciousness, but which are uniformly

translated into consciousness as Force and Matter. Now it does not signify

one iota for the purposes of Materialism whether these our symbolical

representations of Force and Matter are accurate or inaccurate

representations of their corresponding realities,--unless, of course, some

_independent_ reason could be shown for supposing that in their reality

they resemble Mind. Call Force _x_ and Matter _y_, and so long as we are

agreed that _x_ and _y_ are _objective realities which are uniformly

translated into consciousness as Force and Matter_, the materialistic

deductions remain unaffected by this mere change in our terminology; these

essential facts are allowed to remain substantially as before, namely, that

there is an external something or external somethings--Matter and Force, or

_x_ and _y_--which themselves display no observable tokens of

consciousness, but which are invariably associated with consciousness in a

highly distinctive manner.

I dwell at length upon this subject, because although Mr. Spencer himself

does not appear to attach much weight to his argument, Mr. Fiske, as we

have seen, elevates it into a basis for "Cosmic Theism." Yet so far is this

argument from "ruling out," as Mr. Fiske asserts, the essential doctrine of

Materialism--_i.e._, the doctrine that what we know as Mind is an effect of

certain collocations and distributions of _what we know_ as Matter and

Force--that the argument might be employed with almost the same degree of

effect, or absence of effect, to disprove any instance of recognised

causation. Thus, for example, the doctrine of Materialism is no more "ruled

out" by the reflection that what we cognise as cerebral matter is only

cognised relatively, than would the doctrine of chemical equivalents be

"ruled out" by the parallel reflection that what we cognise as chemical

elements are only cognised relatively. I say advisedly, "with _almost_ the

same degree of effect," because, to be strictly accurate, we ought not

altogether to ignore the indefinitely slender presumption which Mr.

Spencer's subjective test of inconceivability establishes on the side of

Spiritualism, as against the objective evidence of causation on the side of

Materialism. As this is an important subject, I will be a little more

explicit. We are agreed that Force and Matter are entities external to

consciousness, of which we can possess only symbolical knowledge.

Therefore, as we have said, Force and Matter may be anything within the

whole range of the possible. But we know that Mind is a possible entity,

while we have no certain knowledge of any other possible entity. Hence we

are justified in saying, It is possible that Force and Matter may be

identical with the only entity which we know as certainly possible; but

forasmuch as we do not know the sum of possible entities, we have no means

of calculating the chances there are that what we know as Force and Matter

are identical in nature with Mind. Still, that there is _a_ chance we

cannot dispute; all we can assert is, that we are unable to determine its

value, and that it would be a mistake to suppose we can do so, even in the

lowest degree, by Mr. Spencer's test of inconceivability. Nevertheless, the

fact that there is such a chance renders it in some indeterminate degree

more probable that what we know as Force and Matter are identical with what

we know as Mind, than that what we know as oxygen and hydrogen are

identical with what we know as water. So that to this extent the essential

doctrine of Materialism is "ruled out" in a further degree by the

philosophy of the Unknowable than is the chemical doctrine of equivalents.

But, of course, this indefinite possibility of what we know as Force and

Matter being identical with what we know as Mind does not neutralise, in

any determinable degree, the considerations whereby Materialism in its

present shape infers that what we know as Force and Matter are probably

distinct from what we know as Mind.

But I see no reason why Materialism should be restricted to this "its

present shape." Even if we admit to the fullest extent the validity of Mr.

Spencer's argument, and conclude with Professor Clifford as a matter of

probability that "the universe consists entirely of Mind-stuff," I do not

see that the admission would affect Materialism in any essential respect.

For here again the admission would amount to little else, so far as

Materialism is directly concerned, than a change of terminology: instead of

calling objective existence "Matter," we call it "Mind-stuff." I say "to

_little_ else," because no doubt in one particular there is here some

change introduced in the speculative standing of the subject. So long as

Matter and Mind, _x_ and _y_, are held to be antithetically opposed in

substance, so long must Materialism suppose that a connection of

_causality_ subsists between the two, such that the former substance is

_produced_ in some unaccountable way by the latter. But when Matter and

Mind, _x_ and _y_, are supposed to be identical in substance, the need for

any additional supposition as to a causal connection is excluded. But

unless we hold, what seems to me an uncalled-for opinion, that the

essential feature of Materialism consists in a postulation of a causal

connection between _x_ and _y_, it would appear that the only effect of

supposing _x_ and _y_ to be really but one substance _z_, must be that of

_strengthening_ the essential doctrine of Materialism--the doctrine,

namely, that conscious intellectual existence is _necessarily_ associated

with that form of existence which we know phenomenally as Matter and

Motion. If it is true that a "a moving molecule of inorganic matter does

not possess mind or consciousness, but it possesses a small piece of

Mind-stuff," then assuredly the central position of Materialism is shown to

be impregnable. For while it remains as true as ever that mind and

consciousness can only emerge when what we know phenomenally as "Matter

takes the complex form of a living brain," we have abolished the necessity

for assuming even a causal connection between the substance of what we know

phenomenally as Matter and the substance of what we know phenomenally as

Mind: we have found that, in the last resort, the phenomenal connection

between what we know as Matter and what we know as Mind is actually even

more intimate than a connection of causality; we have found that it is a

substantial identity.

To sum up this discussion. We have considered the bearing of modern

speculation on the doctrine of Materialism in three successive stages of

argument. First, we had to consider the bearing on Materialism of the

simple doctrine of Relativity. Here we saw that Materialism was only

affected to the extent of being compelled to allow that what we know as

Matter and Motion are not known as they are in themselves. But we also saw

that, as the inscrutable realities are uniformly translated into

consciousness as Matter and Motion, it still remains as true as ever that

_what we know_ as Matter and Motion may be the causes of what we know as

Mind. Even, therefore, if the supposition of causality is taken to be an

essential feature of Materialism, Materialism would be in no wise affected

by substituting for the words Matter and Motion the symbols _x_ and _y_.

The second of the three stages consisted in showing that Mr. Spencer's

argument as to the possible identity of Force and Feeling is not in itself

sufficient to overthrow the doctrine that what we know as Matter and Motion

may be the cause of what we know as Mind. For the mere fact of its being

more _conceivable_ that units of Force should resemble units of Feeling

than conversely, is no warrant for concluding that in reality any

corresponding probability obtains. The test of conceivability, although the

most ultimate test that is available, is here rendered vague and valueless

by the _à priori_ consideration that _whatever_ the cause of Mind may be

(if it has a cause), we must find it more easy to conceive of this cause as

resembling Mind than to conceive of it as resembling any other entity of

which we are only conscious indirectly.

Lastly, in the third place, we saw that even if Mr. Spencer's argument were

fully subscribed to, and Mind in its substantial essence were conceded to

be causeless, the central position of Materialism would still remain

unaffected. For Mr. Spencer does not suppose that his "units of Force" are

themselves endowed with consciousness, any more than Professor Clifford

supposes his "moving molecules of inorganic matter" to be thus endowed. So

that the only change which these possibilities, even if conceded to be

actualities, produce in the speculative standing of Materialism, is to show

that the raw material of consciousness, instead of requiring to be _caused_

by other substances--Matter and Force, _x_ and _y_,--occurs ready made as

those substances. But the essential feature of Materialism remains

untouched--namely, that what we know as Mind is dependent (whether by way

of causality or not is immaterial) on highly complex forms of _what we

know_ as Matter, in association with highly peculiar distributions of _what

we know_ as Force.

* * * * *

IV.

THE FINAL MYSTERY OF THINGS.

Some physicists are inclined to dispute the fundamental proposition in

which the whole of Mr. Spencer's system of philosophy may be said to

rest--the proposition, namely, that the fact of the "persistence of force"

constitutes the ultimate basis of science. For my own part, I cannot but

believe that any disagreement on this matter only arises from some want of

mutual understanding; and, therefore, in order to anticipate any criticisms

to which the present work may be open on this score, I append this

explanatory note.

I readily grant that the term "persistence of force" is not a happy one,

seeing that the word "force," as used by physicists, does not at the

present time convey the full meaning which Mr. Spencer desires it to

convey. But I think that any impartial physicist will be prepared to admit

that, in the present state of his science, we are entitled to conclude that

energy of position is merely the result of energy of motion; or, in other

words, that potential energy is merely an expression of the fact that the

universe, as a whole, is replete with actual energy, whose essential

characteristic is that it is indestructible. And this may be concluded

without committing ourselves to any particular theory as to the physical

explanation of gravity; all we need assert is, that in some way or other

gravity is the result of ubiquitous energy. And this, it seems to me, we

must assert, or else conclude that gravity can never admit of a physical

explanation. For all that we mean by a physical explanation is the proved

establishment of an equation between two quantities of energy; so that if

energy of position does not admit of being interpreted in terms of energy

of motion, we must conclude that it does not admit of being interpreted at

all--at least not in any physical sense.

Throughout the foregoing essays, therefore, I have assumed that all forms

of energy are but relatively varying expressions of the same fact--the

fact, namely, which Mr. Spencer means to express when he says that force is

persistent. And it seems to me almost needless to show that this fact is

really the basis of all science. For unless this fact is assumed as a

postulate, not only would scientific inquiry become impossible, but all

experience would become chaotic. The physicist could not prosecute his

researches unless he presupposed that the forces which he measures are of a

permanent nature, any more than could the chemist prosecute his researches

unless he presupposed that the materials which he estimates by energy-units

are likewise of a permanent nature. And similarly with all the other

sciences, as well as with every judgment in our daily experience. If,

therefore, any one should be hypercritical enough to dispute the position

that the doctrine of the conservation of energy constitutes the "ultimate

datum" of science, I think it will be enough to observe that if this is

_not_ the "ultimate datum" of science, science can have no "ultimate datum"

at all. For any datum more ultimate than permanent existence is manifestly

impossible, while any such datum as non-permanent existence would clearly

render science impossible. Even, therefore, if such hypercriticism had a

valid basis of apparently adverse fact whereon to stand, I should feel

myself justified in neglecting it on _à priori_ grounds; but the only basis

on which such hypercriticism can rest is, not the knowledge of any adverse

facts, but the ignorance of certain facts which we must either conclude to

be facts or else conclude that science can have no ultimate datum whereon

to rest. In the foregoing essays, therefore, I have not scrupled to

maintain that the ultimate datum of science is destructive of teleology as

a scientific argument for Theism; because, unless we deny the possibility

of any such ultimate datum, and so land ourselves in hopeless scepticism,

we must conclude that there can be no datum more ultimate than

this--Permanent Existence; and this is just the datum which we have seen to

be destructive of teleology as a scientific argument for Theism.

It may be well to point out that from this ultimate datum of science--or

rather, let us say, of experience--there follows a deductive explanation of

the law of causation. For this law, when stripped of all the metaphysical

corruptions with which it has been so cumbersomely clothed, simply means

that a given collocation of antecedents unconditionally produces a certain

consequent. But this fact, otherwise stated, amounts to nothing more than a

re-statement of the ultimate datum of experience--the fact that energy is

indestructible. For if this latter fact be granted, it is obvious that the

so-called law of causation follows as a deductive necessity--or rather, as

I have said, that this law becomes but another way of expressing the same

fact. This is obvious if we reflect that the only means we have of

ascertaining that energy is _not_ destructible, is by observing that

similar antecedents _do_ invariably determine similar consequents. It is as

a vast induction from all those particular cases of sequence-changes which

collectively we call causation that we conclude energy to be

indestructible. And, obversely, having concluded energy to be

indestructible, we can plainly see that in any particular cases of its

manifestation in sequence-phenomena, the unconditional resemblance between

effects due to similar causes which is formulated by the law of causation

is merely the direct expression of the fact which we had previously

concluded. It seems to me, therefore, that the old-standing question

concerning the nature of causation ought now properly to be considered as

obsolete. Doubtless there will long remain a sort of hereditary tendency in

metaphysical minds to look upon cause-connection as "a mysterious tie"

between antecedent and consequent; but henceforth there is no need for

scientific minds to regard this "tie" as "mysterious" in any other sense

than the existence of energy is "mysterious." To state the law of causation

is merely to state the fact that energy is indestructible.

And from this there also arises at once the explanation and the

justification of our belief in the uniformity of nature. If energy is, in

its relation to us, ubiquitous and persistent, it clearly follows that in

all its manifestations which collectively we call nature, similar preceding

manifestations must always determine similar succeeding manifestations; for

otherwise the energy concerned would require on one or on both of the

occasions, either to have become augmented by creation, or dissipated by

annihilation. Thus our belief in the uniformity of nature, as in the

validity of the law of causation, is merely an expression of our belief in

the ubiquitous and indestructible character of energy.

Such being the case, we may fairly conclude that all these old-standing

"mysteries" are now merged in the one mystery of existence. And deeper than

this it is manifestly impossible that they can be merged; for it is

manifestly impossible that Existence in the abstract can ever admit of what

we call explanation. Hence we can clearly see that, in a scientific sense,

there must always remain a final mystery of things. But although we can

thus see that, from the very meaning of what we call explanation, it

follows that at the base of all our explanations there must lie a great

Inexplicable, I think that the mystery of Existence in the abstract may be

rendered less appalling if we reflect that, as opposed to Existence, there

is only one logical alternative--Non-existence. Supposing, then, our

physical explanations to have reached their highest limits by resolving all

modes of Existence into one mode--force, matter, life, and mind, being

shown but different manifestations of the same Infinite Existence--the

final mystery of things would then become resolved into the simple

question, Why is there Existence?--Why is there not Nothing?

Let us then first ask, What is "Nothing"? Is it a mere word, which presents

no meaning as corresponding to any objective reality, or has the word a

meaning notwithstanding its being an inconceivable one? Or, otherwise

phrased, is Nothing possible or impossible? Now, although in ordinary

conversation it is generally taken for granted that Nothing is possible,

there is certainly no more ground for this supposition than there is for

its converse--viz., that Nothing is merely a word which signifies the

negation of possibility. For analysis will show that the choice between

these two counter-suppositions can only be made in the presence of

knowledge which is necessarily absent--the knowledge whether the universe

of Existence is finite or infinite. If the universe as a whole is finite,

the word Nothing would stand as a symbol to denote an unthinkable blank of

which a finite universe is the content. And forasmuch as Something and

Nothing would then become actual, as distinguished from nominal

correlatives, we could have no guarantee that, in an absolute or

transcendental sense, it may not be possible, although it is inconceivable,

for Something to become Nothing or Nothing Something. Hence, if Existence

is finite, No-existence becomes possible; and the doctrine of the

indestructibility of Existence becomes, for aught that we can tell, of a

merely relative signification. But, on the other hand, if Existence is

infinite, No-existence becomes impossible; and the doctrine of the

indestructibility of Existence becomes, in a logical sense, of an absolute

signification. For it is manifest that if the universe of Existence is

without end in space and time, the possibility of No-existence is of

necessity excluded, and the word "Nothing" thus becomes a mere negation of

possibility.[47]

Thus, if it be conceded that the universe as a whole is infinite both in

space and time, the concession amounts to an abolition of the final mystery

of things. For all that we mean by a mystery is something that requires an

explanation, and the whole of the final mystery of things is therefore

embodied in the question, "Why is there Existence?--Why is there not

Nothing?" But if the universe of Existence be conceded infinite, this

question is sufficiently met by the answer, "Because Existence is, and

Nothing is not." If it is retorted, But this is no real answer; I reply, It

is as real as the question. For to ask, Why is there Existence? is, upon

the supposition which has been conceded, equivalent to asking, Why is the

possible possible? And if such questions cannot be answered, it is scarcely

right to say that on this account they embody a mystery; because the

questions are really not rational questions, and therefore the fact of

their not admitting of any rational answer cannot be held to show that the

questions embody any rational mystery. That there _is_ a rational mystery,

in the sense of there being something which can never be _explained_, I do

not dispute; all I assert is, that this mystery is inexplicable, only

_because there is nothing to explain_; the mystery being ultimate, to ask

for an explanation of that which, being ultimate, requires no explanation,

is irrational. Or, to state the case in another way, if it is asked, Why is

there not Nothing? it is a sufficient answer, on supposition of the

universe being infinite, to say, Because Nothing is nothing; it is merely a

word which presents no meaning, and which, so far as anything can be

conceived to the contrary, never can present any meaning.

The above discussion has proceeded on the supposition of Existence being

infinite; but practically the same result would follow on the

counter-supposition of Existence being finite. For although in this case,

as we have seen, Non-entity would still be included within the range of

possibility, it would still be no more conceivable as such than is Entity;

and hence the question, Why is there not Nothing? would still be

irrational, seeing that, even if the possibility which the question

supposes were realised, it would in no wise tend to explain the mystery of

Something. And even if it could, the final mystery would not be thus

excluded; it would merely be transferred from the mystery of Existence to

the mystery of Non-existence. Thus under every conceivable supposition we

arrive at the same termination--viz., that in the last resort there must be

a final mystery, which, as forming the basis of all possible explanations,

cannot itself receive any explanation, and which therefore is really not,

in any proper sense of the term, a mystery at all. It is merely a fact

which itself requires no explanation, because it is a fact than which none

can be more ultimate. So that even if we suppose this ultimate fact to be

an Intelligent Being, it is clearly impossible that he should be able to

_explain_ his own existence, since the possibility of any such explanation

would imply that his existence could not be ultimate. In the sense,

therefore, of not admitting of any explanation, his existence would require

to be a mystery to himself, rendering it impossible for him to state

anything further with regard to it than this--"I am that I am."

I do not doubt that this way of looking at the subject will be deemed

unsatisfactory at first sight, because it seems to be, as it were, a merely

logical way of cheating our intelligence out of an intuitively felt

justification for its own curiosity in this matter. But the fault really

lies in this intuitive feeling of justification not being itself

justifiable. For this particular question, it will be observed, differs

from all other possible questions with which the mind has to deal. All

other questions being questions concerning manifestations of existence

presupposed as existing, it is perfectly legitimate to seek for an

explanation of one series of manifestations in another--_i.e._, to refer a

less known group to a group better known. But the case is manifestly quite

otherwise when, having merged one group of manifestations into another

group, and this into another for an indefinite number of stages, we

suddenly make a leap to the last possible stage and ask, "Into what group

are we to merge the basis of all our previous groups, and of all groups

which can possibly be formed in the future? How are we to classify that

which contains all possible classes? Where are we to look for an

explanation of Existence?" When thus clearly stated, the question, is, as I

have said, manifestly irrational; but the point with which I am now

concerned is this--When in plain reason the question is _seen_ to be

irrational, why in intuitive sentiment should it not be _felt_ to be so?

The answer, I think, is, that the interrogative faculty being usually

occupied with questions which admit of rational answers, we acquire a sort

of intellectual habit of presupposing every wherefore to have a therefore,

and thus, when eventually we arrive at the last of all possible wherefores,

which itself supplies the basis of all possible therefores, we fail at

first to recognise the exceptional character of our position. We fail at

first to perceive that, from the very nature of this particular case, our

wherefore is deprived of the rational meaning which it had in all the

previous cases, where the possibility of a corresponding therefore was

presupposed. And failing fully to perceive this truth, our organised habit

of expecting an answer to our question asserts itself, and we experience

the same sense of intellectual unrest in the presence of this wholly

meaningless and absurd question, as we experience in the presence of

questions significant and rational.

THE END.

* * * * *

Notes

[1] The above was written before Mr. Mill's essay on Theism was published.

Lest, therefore, my refutation may be deemed too curt, I supplement it with

Mr. Mill's remarks upon the same subject. "It may still be maintained that

the feelings of morality make the existence of God eminently desirable. No

doubt they do, and that is the great reason why we find that good men and

women cling to the belief, and are pained by its being questioned. But,

surely, it is not legitimate to assume that, in the order of the universe,

whatever is desirable is true. Optimism, even when a God is already

believed in, is a thorny doctrine to maintain, and had to be taken by

Leibnitz in the limited sense, that the universe being made by a good

being, is the best universe possible, not the best absolutely: that the

Divine power, in short, was not equal to making it more free from

imperfections than it is. But optimism, prior to belief in a God, and as

the ground of that belief, seems one of the oddest of all speculative

delusions. Nothing, however, I believe, contributes more to keep up the

belief in the general mind of humanity than the feeling of its

desirableness, which, when clothed, as it very often is, in the form of an

argument, is a _naive_ expression of the tendency of the human mind to

believe whatever is agreeable to it. Positive value the argument of course

has none." For Mill's remarks on the version of the argument dealt with in

§ 5, see his "Three Essays," p. 204.

[2] The words "or not conceivable," are here used in the sense of "not

relatively conceivable," as explained in Chap. vi.

[3] For the full discussion from which the above is an extract, see _System

of Logic_, vol. i. pp. 409-426 (8th ed.). But, substituting "psychical" for

"volitional," see also, for some mitigation of the severity of the above

statement, the closing paragraphs of my supplementary essay on "Cosmic

Theism."

[4] Essay on Understanding--Existence of God.

[5] Locke, _loc. cit._

[6] See Appendix A.

[7] Viz., the constant association within experience of mind with certain

highly peculiar material forms; the constant proportion which is found to

subsist between the quantity of cerebral matter and the degree of

intellectual capacity--a proportion which may be clearly traced throughout

the ascending series of vertebrated animals, and which is very generally

manifested in individuals of the human species; the effects of cerebral

anæmia, anæsthetics, stimulants, narcotic poisons, and lesions of cerebral

substance. There can, in short, be no question that the whole series of

observable facts bearing upon the subject are precisely such as they ought

to be upon supposition of the materialistic theory being true; while,

contrariwise, there is a total absence of any known facts tending to

negative that theory. At the same time it must be carefully noted, that the

observed facts (and any additional number of the like kind) do not

logically warrant us in concluding that mental states are necessarily

_dependent_ upon material changes. Nevertheless, it must also be noted,

that, in the absence of positive proof of causation, it is certainly in

accordance with scientific procedure, to yield our provisional assent to an

hypothesis which undoubtedly connects a large order of constant

_accompaniments_, rather than to an hypothesis which is confessedly framed

to meet but a single one of the facts.

Professor Clifford, in a lecture on "Body and Mind" which he delivered at

St. George's Hall, and afterwards published in the _Fortnightly Review_,

argues against the existence of God on the ground that, as Mind is always

associated with Matter within experience, there arises a presumption

against Mind existing anywhere without being thus associated, so that

unless we can trace in the disposition of the heavenly bodies some

resemblance to the conformation of cerebral structure, we are to conclude

that there is a considerable balance of probability in favour of Atheism.

Now, as this argument--if we rid it of the grotesque allusion to the

heavenly bodies--is one that is frequently met with, it seems desirable in

this place briefly to analyse it. First of all, then, the validity of the

argument depends upon the probability there is that the constant associated

of Mind with Matter within experience is due to a _causal_ connection; for

if the association in question is merely an _association_ and nothing more,

the origin of known mind is as far from being explained as it would be were

Mind never known as associated with Matter. But, in the next place,

supposing the constant association in question to be due to a causal

connection, it by no means follows that because Mind is due to Matter

within experience, therefore Mind cannot exist in any other mode beyond

experience.

Doubtless, from analogy, there is a presumption against the hypothesis that

the same entity should exist in more than one mode at the same time; but

clearly in this case we are quite unable to estimate the value of this

presumption. Consequently, even assuming a causal connection between Matter

and Human Mind, if there is any, the slightest, indications supplied by any

other facts of experience pointing to the existence of a Divine Mind, such

indications should be allowed as much argumentative weight as they would

have had in the absence of the presumption we are considering. Hence

Professor Clifford's conclusion cannot be regarded as valid until all the

other arguments in favour of Theism have been separately refuted. Doubtless

Professor Clifford will be the first to recognise the cogency of this

criticism--if indeed it has not already occurred to him; for as I know that

he is much too clear a thinker not to perceive the validity of these

considerations, I am willing to believe that the substance of them was

omitted from his essay merely for the sake of brevity; but, for the sake of

less thoughtful persons, I have deemed it desirable to state thus clearly

that the problem of Theism cannot be solved on grounds of Materialism

alone. [This note was written before I had the advantage of Professor

Clifford's acquaintance, but now I leave it, as I leave all other parts of

this essay--viz., as it was originally written.--1878.]

[8] To avoid burdening the text, I have omitted another criticism which may

be made on Locke's argument. "Triangle" is a word by which we designate a

certain figure, one of the properties of which is that the sum of its

angles is equal to two right angles. In other words, any figure which does

not exhibit this property is not that figure which we designate a triangle.

Hence, when Locke says he cannot conceive of a triangle which does not

present this property, it may be answered that his inability arises merely

from the fact that any figure which fails to present this property is not a

figure to which the term "triangle" can apply. Thus viewed, however, the

illustration would obviously be absurd, for the same reason that the

question of the clown is absurd, "Can you think of a horse that is just

like a cow?" What Locke evidently means is, that we cannot conceive of any

geometrical figure which presents all the other properties of a triangle

without also presenting the property in question. Now, even admitting, with

Locke, that it is as inconceivable that the entity known to us as Matter

should possess the property of causing thought as it is that the figure

which we term a triangle should posses the property of containing more than

two right angles, still it remains, for the purposes of Locke's supposed

theistic demonstration, to prove that it is an inconceivable for the entity

which we call Mind _not_ to be due to another Mind, as it is for a triangle

_not_ to contain, other than two right angles. But, further, even if it

were possible to prove this, the demonstration would make as much against

Theism as in favour of it; for if, as the illustration of the triangle

implies, we restrict the meaning of the word "Mind" to an entity one of

whose essential qualities is that it should be caused by another Mind, the

words "Supreme and Uncaused Mind" involve a contradiction in terms, just as

much as would the words "A square triangle having four right angles." It

would, therefore, seem that if we adhere to Locke's argument, and pursue it

to its conclusion, the only logical outcome would be this:--Seeing that by

the word "Mind," I expressly connote the quality of derivation from a prior

Mind, as a quality belonging no less essentially to Mind than the quality

of presenting two right angles belongs to a triangle; therefore, whatever

other attributes I ascribe to the First Cause, I must clearly exclude the

attribute Mind; and hence, whatever else such a Cause may be, it follows

from my argument that it certainly is--Not Mind.

[9] Hamilton.

[10] Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. i. pp. 25-31.

[11] Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. p. 542.

[12] _Loc. cit._, p. 543.

[13] Appendix to Discussions, pp. 614, 165.

[14] Mill, in the lengthy chapter which he devotes to the freedom of the

will in his Examination, does not notice this point.

[15] If more evidence can be wanted, it is supplied in some suggestive

facts of Psychology. For example, "From our earliest childhood, the idea of

doing wrong (that is, of doing what is forbidden, or what is injurious to

others) and the idea of punishment are presented to the mind together, and

the intense character of the impressions causes the association between

them to attain the highest degree of closeness and intimacy. Is it strange,

or unlike the usual processes of the human mind, that in these

circumstances we should retain the feeling and forget the reason on which

it is grounded? But why do I speak of forgetting? In most cases the reason

has never, in our early education, been presented to the mind. The only

ideas presented have been those of wrong and punishment, and an inseparable

association has been created between these directly, without the help of

any intervening idea. This is quite enough to make the spontaneous feelings

of mankind regard punishment and a wrong-doer as naturally fitted to each

other--as a conjunction appropriate in itself, independently of any

consequences," &c.--Mill, Examination of Hamilton, p. 599.

[16] Grammar of Assent, pp. 106, 107.

[17] Throughout these considerations I have confined myself to the

_positive_ side of the subject. My argument being of the nature of a

criticism on the erroneous inferences which are drawn from the _good_

qualities of our moral nature, I thought it desirable, for the sake of

clearness, not to burden that argument by the additional one as to the

source of the _evil_ qualities of that nature. This additional argument,

however, will be found briefly stated at the close of my supplementary

essay on Professor Flint's "Theism." On reading that additional argument, I

think that any candid and unbiassed mind must conclude that, alike in what

it is _not_ as well as in what it _is_, our moral nature points to a

natural genesis, as distinguished from a supernatural cause.

[18] The illustration to which I refer is that of the watershed of a

country being precisely adapted to draining purposes. The rivers just fit

their own particular beds: the latter occupy the lowest grounds, and get

broader and deeper as they advance; pebbles, gravel, and sand all occupy

the best teleological situations, &c., &c.

[19] "Order of Nature," by the Rev. Baden Powell, M.A., F.R.S., &c., 1859,

pp. 228-241.

[20] I think it desirable to state that I perceived this great truth before

I was aware that it had been perceived also by Mr. Spencer. His statement

of it now occurs in the short chapter of _First Principles_ entitled

"Relations between Forces." So far as I an able to ascertain, no one has

hitherto considered this important doctrine in its immediate relation to

the question of Theism.

In using the term "persistence of force," I am aware that I am using a term

which is not unopen to criticism. But as Mr. Spencer's writings have

brought this term into such general use among speculative thinkers, it

seemed to me undesirable to modify it. Questions of mere terminology are

without any importance in a discussion of this kind, provided that the

terms are universally understood to mean what they are intended to mean;

and I think that the signification which Mr. Spencer attaches to his term,

"persistence of force," is sufficiently precise. Therefore, adopting his

usage, whenever throughout the following pages I speak of force as

persisting, what I intend to be understood is, that there is a

something--call it force, or energy, or _x_--which, so far as experience or

imagination can extend, is, in its relation to us, ubiquitous and

illimitable; or, in other words, that it universally presents the property

of permanence. (See, for a more detailed explanation, supplementary essay,

"On the Final Mystery of Things.")

[21] Hamilton may here be especially noticed, because he went so far as to

maintain that the phenomena of the external world, taken by themselves,

would ground a valid argument to the negation of God. Although I cannot but

think that this position was a conspicuously irrational one for any

competent thinker to occupy before the scientific doctrine of the

correlation of the forces had been enunciated, nevertheless I cannot lose

the opportunity of alluding to this remarkable feature in Sir William

Hamilton's philosophy, showing as it does that same prophetic forestalling

of the results which have since followed from the discovery of the

conservation of energy, as was shown by his no less remarkable theory of

causation. (See supplementary essay "On the Final Mystery of Things.")

[22] Mr. N. Lockyer's work is now supplying important evidence on these

points.--1878.

[23] It will of course be observed that if matter and force are identical,

the unification is complete.

[24] Herbert Spencer.

[25] It may here be observed that the above discussion would not be

affected by the view of Professor Clifford and others, that natural law is

to be regarded as having a subjective rather than an objective

signification--that what we call a natural law is merely an arbitrary

selection made by ourselves of certain among natural processes. The

discussion would not be affected by this view, because the argument is

really based upon the existence of a cosmos as distinguished from a chaos;

and therefore it would be rather an intensification of the argument than

otherwise to point out that, for the maintenance of a cosmos, natural laws,

as conceived by us, would be inadequate. And this seems a fitting place to

make the almost superfluous remark, that throughout this present essay I

have used the words "Natural Law," "Supreme Law-giver," &c., in an

apparently unguarded sense, merely in order to avoid needless obscurity.

Fully sensible as I am of the misleading nature of the analogy which these

words embody, I have yet adopted them for the sake of perspicuity--being

careful, however, never to allow the false analogy which they express to

enter into an argument on either side of the question. Thus, even where it

is said that the existence of Natural Law points to the existence of a

Supreme Law-maker, the argument might equally well be phrased: The

existence of an orderly cosmos points to the existence of a disposing mind.

[26] First Principles, pp. 27-29.

[27] It may be here observed that this quality of indefiniteness on the

part of such reasoning is merely a practical outcome of the theoretical

considerations adduced in Chapter V. For as we there saw that the ratio

between the known and the unknown is in this case wholly indefinite, it

follows that any symbols derived from the region of the known--even though

such symbols be the highest generalities which the latter region

affords--must be wholly indefinite when projected into the region of the

unknown. Or rather let us say, that as the region of the unknown is but a

progressive continuation of the region of the known, the determinate value

of symbols of thought varies inversely as the distance--or, not improbably,

as the square of the distance--from the sphere of the known at which they

are applied.

[28] _i.e._, illegitimate in a _relative_ sense. The conclusion is

legitimate enough in a _formal_ sense, and as establishing a probability of

some _unassignable_ degree of value. But it would be illegitimate if this

quality of indefiniteness were disregarded, and the conclusion supposed to

possess the same character of actual probability as it has of formal

definition.

[29] In order not to burden the text with details, I have presented these

reflections in their most general terms. Thus, if it be granted that cosmic

harmony results from the combined action of general laws, and that these

laws are the necessary result of the primary qualities of force and matter,

this the most general statement of the atheistic position includes all more

special considerations as a genus includes its species; and therefore it

would not signify, for the purposes of the atheistic argument, whether or

not any such more special considerations are possible. Nevertheless, for

the sake of completeness, I may here observe that we are not wholly without

indications in nature of the physical causation whereby the effect of

cosmic harmony is produced. The universal tendency of motion to become

rhythmical--itself, as Mr. Spencer was the first to show, a necessary

consequence of the persistence of force--is, so to speak, a conservative

tendency: it sets a premium against natural cataclysms. But a more

important consideration is this,--that during the evolution of natural law

in the way suggested in Chapter IV., as every newly evolved law came into

existence it must have been, as it were, grafted on the stock of all

pre-existing natural laws, and so would not enter the cosmic system as an

element of confusion, but rather as an element of further progress. For

instance, when, with the origin of organic nature, the law of natural

selection entered upon the cosmos, it was grafted upon the pre-existing

stock of other natural laws, and so combined within them in unity. And a

little thought will show that it was impossible that it should do

otherwise; for it was impossible that natural selection could ever produce

organisms which would ever be able by their existence to conflict with the

pre-existing system of astronomic or geologic laws; seeing that organisms,

being a product of later evolution than these laws, would either have to be

adapted to them or perish. And hence the new law of natural selection,

which consists in so adapting organisms to the pre-existing laws that they

must either conform to them or die. Now, I have chosen the case of natural

selection because, as alluded to in the text, it is the law of all others

which is the most conspicuously effective in producing the harmonious

complexity of nature. But the same kind of considerations may be seen to

apply to most of the other general laws with which we are acquainted,

particularly if we bear in mind that the general outcome of their united

action as we observe it--the cosmic harmony on which so much stress is

laid--is not _perfectly_ harmonious. Cataclysms--whether it be the capture

of an insect, or the ruin of a star--although events of comparatively rare

occurrence if at any given time we take into account the total number of

insects or the total number of stars, are events which nevertheless do

occasionally happen. And the fact that even cataclysms take place in

accordance with so-called natural law, serves but to emphasise the

consideration on which we are engaged--viz., that the total result of the

combined action of general laws is not such as to produce perfect order.

Lastly, if the answer is made that human ideas of perfect order may not

correspond with the highest ideal of such order, I observe that to make

such a answer is merely to abandon the subject of discussion; for if a

theist rests his argument on the basis of our human conception of order, he

is not free to maintain his argument and at the same time to abandon its

basis at whatever point the latter may be shown untenable.

[30] Since the above was written, the first volume of Mr. Spencer's

"Sociology" has been published; and those who may not as yet have read the

first half of that work are here strongly recommended to do so; for Mr.

Spencer has there shown, in a more connected and conclusive manner than has

ever been shown before, how strictly natural is the growth of all

superstitions and religions--_i.e._, of all the theories of personal agency

in nature.--1878.

[31] Herbert Spencer's Essays, vol. iii. pp. 246-249 (1874).

[32] This is the truly inconceivable element in the physical theory. As I

have shown in the pleading on the side of Atheism, the supposed

inconceivability of cosmic harmony being due to mindless forces, is not of

such a kind as wholly refuses to be surmounted by symbolic conceptions of a

sufficiently abstract character. But it is impossible, by the aid of any

symbols, to gain a conception of an eternal existence. And I may here point

out, that if Mind is said to be the cause of evolution, not only does the

statement involve the inconceivable proposition that such a Mind must be

infinite in respect to its powers of supervision, direction, &c.; but the

statement also involves a necessary alternative between two additional

inconceivable propositions--viz., either that such a Mind must have been

eternal, or that it must have come into existence without a cause. In this

respect, therefore, it would seem that the theory of Atheism has the

advantage over that of Theism; for while the former theory is under the

necessity of embodying only a single inconceivable term, the latter theory

is under the necessity of embodying two such terms.

[33] Mr. Herbert Spencer has treated of this subject in his memorable

controversy with Mill on the "Universal Postulate" (see _Psychology_, §

427), and refuses to entertain the term "Inconceivable" as applicable to

any propositions other than those wherein "the terms cannot, by any effort,

be brought before consciousness in that relation which the proposition

asserts between them." That is to say, he limits the term "Inconceivable"

to that which is _absolutely_ inconceivable; and he then proceeds to affirm

that all propositions "which admit of being framed in thought, but which

are so much at variance with experience, in which its terms have habitually

been otherwise united, that its terms cannot be put in the alleged relation

without effort," ought properly to be termed "_incredible_" propositions.

Now I cannot see that the class "Incredible propositions" is, as this

definition asserts, identical with the class which I have termed

"Relatively inconceivable" propositions. For example, it is a familiar

observation that, on looking at the setting sun, we experience an almost,

if not quite, insuperable difficulty in _conceiving_ the sun's apparent

motion as due to our own actual motion, and yet we experience no difficulty

in _believing_ it. Conversely, I entertain but little difficulty in

_conceiving_--_i.e._, imagining--a shark with a mammalian heart, and yet it

would require extremely strong evidence to make me _believe_ that such an

animal exists. The truth appears to be that our language is deficient in

terms whereby to distinguish between that which is wholly inconceivable

from that which is with difficulty conceivable. This, it seems to me, was

the principle reason of the dispute between Spencer and Mill above alluded

to,--the former writer having always used the word "Inconceivable" in the

sense of "Absolutely inconceivable," and the latter having apparently used

it--in his _Logic_ and elsewhere--in both senses. I have endeavoured to

remedy this defect in the language by introducing the qualifying words,

"Absolutely" and "Relatively," which, although not appropriate words, are

the best that I am able to supply. The conceptive faculty of the individual

having been determined by the experience of the race, that which is

inconceivable by the intelligence of the race may be said to be

inconceivable to the intelligence of the individual in an _absolute_ sense;

no effort on his part can enable him to surmount the organically imposed

conditions of his conceptive faculty. But that which is inconceivable

merely to one individual or generation, while it is not inconceivable to

the intelligence of the race, may properly be said to be inconceivable to

the intelligence of that individual or generation only in a _relative_

sense; apart from the special condition to which the individual

intelligence has been subjected, there is nothing in the conditions of

human intelligence as such to prevent the thing from being conceived.

[While this work has been passing through the press, I have found that Mr.

G. H. Lewes has already employed the above terms in precisely the same

sense as that which is above explained.--1878.]

[34] I should here like to have added some considerations on Sir W.

Hamilton's remarks concerning the effect of training upon the mind in this

connection; but, to avoid being tedious, I shall condense what I have to

say into a few sentences. What Hamilton maintains is very true, viz., that

the study of classics, moral and mental philosophy, &c., renders the mind

more capable of believing in a God than does the study of physical science.

The question, however, is, Which class of studies ought to be considered

the more authoritative in this matter? I certainly cannot see what title

classics, history, political economy, &c., have to be regarded at all; and

although the mental and moral sciences have doubtless a better claim, still

I think they must be largely subordinate to those sciences which deal with

the whole domain of nature besides. Further, I should say that there is no

very strong _affirmative_ influence created on the mind in this respect by

any class of studies; and that the only reason why we so generally find

Theism and classics, &c., united, is because we so seldom find classics,

&c., and physical science united; the _negative_ influence of the latter,

in the case of classical minds, being therefore generally absent.

[35] The qualities named are only known in a relative sense, and therefore

the apparent contradiction may be destitute of meaning in an absolute

sense.

[36] All the quotations in this Appendix have been taken from the chapter

on "Our knowledge of the existence of a God," and from the early part of

that on "The extent of human knowledge," together with the appended letter

to the Bishop of Worcester.

[37] A criticism of Mr. John Fiske's proposed system of theology as

expounded in his work on "Cosmic Philosophy" (Macmillan & Co., 1874).

[38] Cosmic Philosophy, vol. i. pp. 87-89.

[39] Cosmic Philosophy, vol. ii. pp. 429, 430.

[40] Ibid., p. 441.

[41] Ibid., pp. 450, 451.

[42] Principles of Psychology, vol. i. pp. 159-161.

[43] We thus see that the question whether there may not be "something

quasi-psychical in the constitution of things" is a question which does not

affect the position of Theism as it has been left by a negation of the

self-conscious personality of God. But as the speculations on which this

question has been reared are in themselves of much philosophical interest,

I may here observe that, in one form or another, they have been dimly

floating in men's minds for a long time past. Thus, excepting the degree of

certainty with which it is taught, we have in Mr. Spencer's words above

quoted a reversion to the doctrine of Buddha; for, as "force is

persistent," all that would happen on death, supposing the doctrine true,

would be an escape of the "circumscribed aggregate" of units forming the

individual consciousness into the unlimited abyss of similar units

constituting the "Absolute Being" of the Cosmists, or the "Divine Essence"

of the Buddhists. Again, the doctrine in a vague form pervades the

philosophy of Spinoza, and is next clearly enunciated by Wundt. Lastly, in

a recently published very remarkable essay "On the Nature of Things in

Themselves," Professor Clifford arrives at a similar doctrine by a

different route. The following is the conclusion to which he

arrives:--"That element of which, as we have seen, even the simplest

feeling is a complex, I shall call _Mind-stuff_. A moving molecule of

inorganic matter does not possess mind or consciousness, but it possesses a

small piece of mind-stuff. When molecules are so combined together as to

form the film on the under side of a jellyfish, the elements of mind-stuff

which go along with them are so combined as to form the faint beginnings of

Sentience. When the molecules are so combined as to form the brain and

nervous system of a vertebrate, the corresponding elements of mind-stuff

are so combined as to form some kind of consciousness; that is to say,

changes in the complex which take place at the same time get so linked

together that the repetition of one implies the repetition of the other.

When matters take the complex form of a living human brain, the

corresponding mind-stuff takes the form of a human consciousness, having

intelligence and volition." (Mind, January, 1878.)

[44] Theism, by Robert Flint, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Divinity in the

University of Edinburgh, &c.

[45] Such being the objects in view, I have not thought it necessary to

extend this criticism into anything resembling a review of Professor

Flint's work as a whole; but, on the contrary, I have aimed rather at

confining my observations to those parts of his treatise which embody the

current arguments from teleology alone. I may here observe, however, in

general terms, that I consider all his arguments to have been answered by

anticipation in the foregoing examination of Theism. I may also here

observe, that throughout the following essay I have used the word "design"

in the sense in which it is used by Professor Flint himself. This sense is

distinctly a different one from that which the word bears in the writings

of the Paley, Bell, and Chalmers school. For while in the latter writings,

as pointed out in Chapter III., the word bears its natural meaning of a

certain _process of thought_, in Professor Flint's work it is used rather

as expressive of a _product of intelligence_. In other words, "design," as

used by Professor Flint, is synonymous with _intention_, irrespective of

the particular psychological process by which the intention may have been

put into effect.

[46] Op. cit., pp. 255-257.

[47] Let it be observed that there is a distinction between what I may call

substantial and formal existence. Thus there is no doubt that flowers as

flowers perish, or become non-existent; but the substances of which they

were composed persist. And, in this connection, I may here point out that

if the universe is infinite in space and time, the universe as a whole

would present substantial existence as standing out of relation to space

and time, whereas innumerable portions of the universe present only formal

existences, because standing in relation both to space and time. Thus, for

instance, the solar system, as a solar system, must have an end in time as

it has a boundary in space; but as the substance of which it consists will

not become extinguished by the extinction of the system, it may not now

stand in any real relation to what we call space and time. I am inclined to

think that it is upon the idea of non-existence in this formal sense that

we construct a pseud-idea of non-existence in a substantial sense; but it

is evident that if the universe as a whole is absolute, this pseud-idea

must represent as impossibility. And from this it follows, that if

existence is infinite in space and time, every _quantum_ of it with which

our experience comes into relation must represent, as its essential

quality, that quality which we find to be presented by the substance of

things--the quality, that is, of persistence.