{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_29917/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_29917","id":"gutenberg_29917","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29917","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Metaphysics","Utilitarianism"],"text":"E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nOLD-FASHIONED ETHICS AND COMMON-SENSE METAPHYSICS\n\nWith Some of Their Applications\n\nby\n\nWILLIAM THOMAS THORNTON\n\nAuthor of a Treatise 'On Labour'\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLondon\nMacmillan and Co.\n1873\n\n_All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n     'I entirely agree with you as to the ill tendency of the affected\n     doubts of some philosophers and the fantastical conceits of others.\n     I am even so far gone of late in this way of thinking, that I have\n     quitted several of the sublime notions I had got in their schools\n     for vulgar opinions. And I give it you on my word, that since this\n     revolt from metaphysical notions to the plain dictates of nature\n     and common sense, I find my understanding strangely enlightened, so\n     that I can now easily comprehend a great many things which before\n     were all mystery and riddle.'--BERKELEY'S HYLAS AND PHILONOUS.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe book was all but finished, and only the Preface remained, over which\nI was hesitating, apprehensive equally of putting into it too much and\ntoo little, when one of the most frequent 'companions of my solitude'\ncame to my aid, shewing me, in fragments, a preface already nearly\nwritten, and needing only a little piecing to become forthwith\npresentable. Here it is.\n\n'In these sick days, in a world such as ours, richer than usual in\nTruths grown obsolete, what can the fool think but that it is all a Den\nof Lies wherein whoso will not speak and act Lies must stand idle and\ndespair?' Whereby it happens that for the artist who would fain minister\nmedicinally to the relief of folly, 'the publishing of a Work of Art,'\ndesigned, like this, to redeem Truth from premature obsolescence,\n'becomes almost a necessity.' For, albeit, 'in the heart of the speaker\nthere ought to be some kind of gospel tidings burning until it be\nuttered, so that otherwise it were better for him that he altogether\nheld his peace,' still, than to have fire burning within, and not to put\nit forth, not many worse things are readily imaginable.\n\n'Has the word Duty no meaning? Is what we call Duty no divine messenger\nand guide, but a false, earthly fantasm, made up of Desire and Fear?' In\nthat' Logic-mill of thine' hast thou 'an earthly mechanism for the\nGodlike itself, and for grinding out Virtue from the husks of Pleasure?\nI tell thee, Nay! Otherwise, not on Morality, but on Cookery, let us\nbuild our stronghold. There, brandishing our frying-pan as censer, let\nus offer up sweet incense to the Devil, and live at ease on the fat\nthings _he_ has provided for his elect,' seeing that 'with stupidity and\nsound digestion, man may front much.'\n\nOr, 'is there no God? or, at best, an absentee God, sitting idle ever\nsince the first Sabbath, at the outside of His universe, and _seeing_ it\ngo?' Know that for man's well-being, whatever else be needed, 'Faith is\none thing needful.' Mark, 'how, with it, Martyrs, otherwise weak, can\ncheerfully endure the shame and the cross; how, without it, worldlings\npuke up their sick existence, by suicide, in the midst of luxury.' Of\nhow much else, 'for a pure moral nature, is not the loss of Religious\nBelief the loss?' 'All wounds, the crush of long-continued Destitution,\nthe stab of false Friendship and of false Love, all wounds in the so\ngenial heart would have healed again had not the life-warmth of Faith\nbeen withdrawn.' But this once lost, how recoverable? how, rather, ever\nacquirable? 'First must the dead Letter of Religion own itself dead, and\ndrop piecemeal into dust, if the living Spirit of Religion, freed from\nthis, its charnel house, is to arise on us, new born of Heaven, and with\nnew healing under its wings.'\n\nBeside these burning words of Mr. Carlyle any additional words of mine\nwould stand only as superfluous foils, and are, therefore, considerately\npretermitted.\n\nCADOGAN PLACE: _December 1872._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE\n\n  I. ANTI-UTILITARIANISM                                               1\n\n  II. HISTORY'S SCIENTIFIC PRETENSIONS                                84\n\n  III. DAVID HUME AS A METAPHYSICIAN                                 113\n\n  IV. HUXLEYISM                                                      158\n\n  V. RECENT PHASES OF SCIENTIFIC ATHEISM                             199\n\n  VI. LIMITS OF DEMONSTRABLE THEISM                                  266\n\n\n    EPILOGUE                                                         298\n\n\n\n\nOLD-FASHIONED ETHICS\n\nAND\n\nCOMMON-SENSE METAPHYSICS\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n_ANTI-UTILITARIANISM._\n\n\nI.\n\nHaving, by the heading of this essay, announced that it is intended to\nbe partly controversial, I can scarcely begin better than by furnishing\nthe reader with the means of judging whether I myself correctly\napprehend the doctrine which I am about to criticise. If, then, I were\nmyself an Utilitarian, and, for the sake either of vindicating my own\nbelief, or of making converts of other people, had undertaken to explain\nwhat Utilitarianism is, I should set about the task somewhat in this\nwise:--\n\nThe sole use and sole object of existence is enjoyment or pleasure,\nwhich two words will here be treated as synonymous; happiness, also,\nthough not quite identical in meaning, being occasionally substituted\nfor them. Enjoyment, it must be observed, is of very various kinds,\nmeasures, and degrees. It may be sensual, or emotional, or imaginative,\nor intellectual, or moral. It may be momentary or eternal; intoxicating\ndelight or sober satisfaction. It may be unmixed and undisturbed, in\nwhich case, however short of duration or coarse in quality, it may in\nstrictness be called happiness; or it may be troubled and alloyed,\nalthough of a flavour which would be exquisite if pure, and if there\nwere nothing to interfere with the perception of it. Understood,\nhowever, in a sufficiently comprehensive sense, enjoyment or pleasure\nmay be clearly perceived to be the sole object of existence. The whole\nvalue of life plainly consists of the enjoyment, present or future,\nwhich life affords, or is capable of affording or securing. Now, the\nexcellence of all rules depends on their conduciveness to the object\nthey have in view. The excellence of all rules of life must, therefore,\ndepend on their conduciveness to the sole object which life has in view,\nviz., enjoyment. But the excellence of rules of life, or of conduct or\nmodes of acting, would seem to be but another name for their morality,\nand the morality of actions obviously depends on their conformity to\nmoral rules. Whence, if so much be admitted, it necessarily follows that\nthe test of the morality of actions is their conduciveness to enjoyment.\n\nBut the enjoyment thus referred to is not that of the agent alone, for\nif it were, no action whatever could possibly be immoral. Whatever any\none does, he does either because to do it gives him or promises him\npleasure, or because he believes that the not doing it would subject him\nto more pain than he will suffer from doing it. Besides, one person's\nenjoyment may be obtained at the expense of other people's suffering, so\nthat an act in which the actor takes pleasure may destroy or prevent\nmore pleasure altogether than it creates. The enjoyment or happiness,\ntherefore, which Utilitarianism regards, is not individual, but general\nhappiness; not that of one or of a few, but of the many, nor even of the\nmany only. It is often declared to be the greatest happiness of the\ngreatest number, but it may with more accuracy be described as the\nlargest aggregate of happiness attainable by any or by all\nconcerned.[1] Again, an action which, in some particular instance,\ncauses more pleasure than pain to those affected by it, may yet belong\nto a class of actions which, in the generality of cases, causes more\npain than pleasure, and may thus involve a violation of a moral rule,\nand, consequently, be itself immoral. Wherefore the enjoyment which\nUtilitarianism adopts as its moral test is not simply the greatest sum\nof enjoyment for all concerned, but that greatest sum in the greatest\nnumber of cases. In its widest signification it is the greatest\nhappiness of society at large and in the long run. From these premises a\ndecisive criterion of right and wrong may be deduced. Every action\nbelonging to a class calculated to promote the permanent happiness of\nsociety is right. Every action belonging to a class opposed to the\npermanent happiness of society is wrong.\n\nIn the foregoing exposition I have, I trust, evinced a sincere desire to\ngive Utilitarianism its full due, and I shall at least be admitted to\nhave shown myself entirely free from most of those more vulgar\nmisconceptions of its nature which have given its professors such just\noffence. Many of its assailants have not scrupled to stigmatise as\nworthy only of swine a doctrine which represents life as having no\nbetter and nobler object of desire and pursuit than pleasure. To these,\nhowever, it has, by the great apostle of Utilitarianism, been\ntriumphantly replied that it is really they themselves who insult human\nnature by using language that assumes human beings to be capable of no\nhigher pleasures than those of which swine are capable; and that,\nmoreover, if the assumption were correct, and if the capacities of men\nand of swine were identical, whatever rule of life were good enough for\nthe latter would likewise be good enough for the former. But I am not an\nassailant of this description. Inasmuch as there undeniably are very\nmany and very various kinds of pleasure, I of course allow\nUtilitarianism credit for common sense enough to acknowledge that those\nkinds are most worthy of pursuit which, from whatever cause, possess\nmost value--that those which are most precious are those most to be\nprized. But whoever allows thus much will have no alternative but to\nconcede a great deal more. The most precious of pleasures is that which\narises from the practice of virtue, as may be proved conclusively in the\nonly way of which the case admits, viz., by reference to the fact that,\nwhoever is equally acquainted with that and with other pleasures,\ndeliberately prefers it to all the rest, will, if necessary, forego all\nothers for its sake, and values no others obtainable only at its\nexpense. By necessary implication it follows that, as being more\nvaluable than any other, the pleasure arising from the practice of\nvirtue must be that which Utilitarianism recommends above all others as\nan object of pursuit. But the pursuit of this particular pleasure and\nthe practice of virtue are synonymous terms. What, therefore,\nUtilitarianism above all other things recommends and insists upon is the\npractice of virtue. Now, the practice of virtue commonly involves\nsubordination of one's own interest to that of other people; indeed,\nvirtue would not be virtue in the utilitarian sense of the word unless\nit did involve such subordination. Wherefore the pleasure arising from\nthe practice of virtue, the pleasure which occupies the highest place on\nthe utilitarian scale, and that which Utilitarianism exhorts its\ndisciples chiefly to seek after, is nothing else than the pleasure\nderived from attending to other people's pleasure instead of to our own.\n\nNor is this all. In order adequately to appreciate the loftiness of\nutilitarian teaching, and its utter exemption from the sordidness with\nwhich it is ignorantly charged, we must devote a few moments to\nexamination of those distinctive peculiarities of different kinds of\npleasure which entitle them to different places in our esteem.\n\nAll pleasures may be arranged under five heads, and in regularly\nascending series, as follows:--\n\n1. Sensual pleasures:--To wit, those of eating and drinking, and\nwhatever others are altogether of the flesh, fleshly.\n\n2. Emotional, by which are to be understood agreeable moods of the mind,\nsuch as, irrespectively of any agreeable idea brought forward\nsimultaneously by association, are produced by music ('for,' as Milton\nsays, 'eloquence the soul, song charms the sense'), by beauty of form or\ncolour, by genial sunshine, by balmy or invigorating air.\n\n3. Imaginative, or pleasures derived from the contemplation of mental\npictures.\n\n4. Intellectual, or those consequent on exercise of the reasoning\npowers.\n\n5. Moral, or those which are alluded to when virtue is spoken of as\nbeing its own reward.[2]\n\nThat of these several kinds, each of the last four is preferable to any\npreceding it on the list will, it is to be hoped, be allowed to pass as\nan unquestioned truth, for to any one perverse enough to deny it, the\nonly answer that can be made is an appeal to observation in proof that\nall persons who are equally acquainted with the several kinds do exhibit\nthe preferences indicated. Neither, so far as the two kinds first-named\nalone are concerned, is it possible to go much more deeply into the\nreasons why emotional pleasures are to be preferred to sensual, than by\npointing to the fact that all competent judges of both are observed to\nlike the former best. If all those who are endowed with equal\nsensitiveness of ear and of palate prefer music to feasting, and would\nany day give up a dinner at Francatelli's for the sake of hearing a\nrejuvenescent Persiani as Zerlina, or Patti as Dinorah, the one thing\npresumable is, that all such persons derive more enjoyment from perfect\nmelody than from perfect cookery, and little else remains to be said on\nthe subject. The same ultimate fact need not, however, limit our inquiry\nas to the preferableness of imaginative or intellectual to emotional\npleasures, and of moral to any of the other three. This admits of, and\ndemands, a more subtle explanation, from which we may learn, not merely\nthat certain preferences are shown, but also why they are shown. The\npreferences in question are demonstrably not due to the greater\npoignancy of the pleasures preferred. It is simply not true that the\nkeenest of imaginative pleasures is keener than the keenest of\nemotional, and still less that the keenest of intellectual is so. The\nvery reverse is the truth. The supremest delight attainable in fancy's\nmost romantic flight is, I suspect, faint in comparison with the sort of\necstasy into which a child of freshly-strung nerves is sometimes thrown\nby the mere brilliance or balminess of a summer's day, and with which\neven we, dulled adults, provided we be in the right humour, and that all\nthings are in a concatenation accordingly, are now and then momentarily\naffected while listening to the wood-notes wild of a nightingale, or a\nJenny Lind, or while gazing on star-lit sky or moon-lit sea, or on the\nsnowy or dolomite peaks of a mountain range fulgent with the violet and\npurple glories of the setting sun. And yet the choicest snatches of such\nbeatitude with which--at least, after the fine edge of our\nsusceptibilities has been worn away by the world's friction--we\ncreatures of coarse human mould are ever indulged, are but poor in\ncomparison with the rich abundance of the same in which some more\ndelicately-constituted organisms habitually revel. If we would\nunderstand of what development emotional delight is capable, we should\nwatch the skylark. As that 'blithe spirit' now at heaven's gate 'poureth\nits full heart,' and anon can\n\n        Scarce get out his notes for joy,\n  But shakes his song together as he nears\n  His happy home, the ground,\n\nwhat poet but must needs confess with Shelley, that in his most\nrapturous dream, his transport never came nigh the bird's? And yet what\npoet would change conditions with the lark? Nay, what student or\nphilosopher would? albeit the utmost gratification ever earned by either\nof these in the prosecution of his special calling--in acquiring\nknowledge, in solving knotty problems, or in scaling the heights of\nabstract contemplation--is probably as inferior in keenness of zest to\nthat which the poet knows, as the best prose is inferior in charm to the\nbest poetry. It may even be that both poet and philosopher owe, on the\nwhole, more unhappiness than happiness--the one to his superior\nsensibility, the other to his superior enlightenment, and yet neither\nwould exchange his own lesser happiness for the greater happiness of the\nlark. Why would he not? It is no sufficient answer to say that in the\nlark's happiness there are few, if any, imaginative or intellectual\ningredients; that it is almost utterly unideal, almost purely emotional,\nexactly the same in kind, and only higher in degree, than the glee of\npuppies or kittens at play. The question recurs as forcibly as ever,\nwhy--seeing that enjoyment is the one thing desirable, the only thing\neither valuable in itself, or that gives value to other things--why is\nit that no intelligent man would accept, in lieu of his own, another\nmode of existence, in which, although debarred from the joys of thought\nand fancy, he nevertheless has reason to believe that the share of\nenjoyment falling to his lot would be greater, both in quantity and\nsapidity, than it is at present? The following seems to me to be the\nexplanation of the mystery.\n\nIt might be too much to say that nothing can please a person who is not\npleased with himself, but it is at any rate clear that nothing can\ngreatly please him which interferes with his self-satisfaction. Now\nimaginative and intellectual enjoyment, each of them, involves the\nexercise of a special and superior faculty, mere consciousness of the\npossession of which helps to make the possessor satisfied with himself.\nIt exalts what Mr. Mill aptly terms his sense of dignity, a sense\npossessed in some form or other by every human being, and one so\nessential to that self-satisfaction without which all pleasure would be\ntasteless, that nothing which conflicts with it can be an object of\nserious desire. In virtue of this special faculty, the most wretched of\nmen holds himself to be superior to the most joyous of larks. To divest\nhimself of it would be to lower himself towards the level of the bird,\nand to commit such an act of self-degradation would occasion to him an\namount of pain which he is not disposed to incur for the sake of any\namount of pleasure obtainable at its expense. It is, then, the fear of\npain which prevents his wishing to be turned into a lark. He is not\nignorant that he would be happier for the metamorphosis, but he dreads\nthe pain that must precede the increase of happiness, more than he\ndesires the increase of happiness that would follow the pain.\n\nThe force of these considerations will be equally, or more apparent, on\ntheir being applied to analysis of moral pleasures. That these are the\nmost truly precious of all pleasures, is proved by their being\nhabitually more highly prized than any others by all who are qualified\nto make the comparison. But why are they so prized? Not, as I am\nconstrained, however reluctantly, to admit, on account of their greater\nkeenness as pleasures. It would be at best but well-meaning cant to\npretend that the self-approval, the sympathetic participation in other\npeople's augmented welfare, the grateful consciousness of having done\nthat which is pleasing in our Heavenly Father's sight, together with\nwhatever else helps to compose the internal reward of virtue, constitute\na sum total of delight nearly as exquisite as that which may be obtained\nin a variety of other ways. The mere circumstance of there being\ninvariably included in a just or generous action more or less of\nself-denial, self-restraint, or self-sacrifice, must always sober down\nthe gratification by which virtue is rewarded, and make it appear tame\nbeside the delirium of gladness caused by many things with which virtue\nhas nothing to do. We will charitably suppose that the occupant of a\ndukedom, who should secretly light upon conclusive proof that it was not\nhis by right, would at once abandon it to the legal heir, and we need\nnot doubt that he would subsequently be, on the whole, well content to\nhave so acted, but we cannot suppose that he would make the surrender\nwith anything like the elation with which he entered on the estate and\ntitle. If there were really no pleasure equal to that with which virtue\nrecompenses its votaries, the performance of a virtuous act would always\nmake a man happier than previously; moreover, the greater the virtue,\nthe greater would be the consequent pleasure. But any one may see that\nan act of the most exalted virtue, far from increasing, often utterly\ndestroys the agent's happiness. Imagine an affectionate father, some\nsecond Brutus or second Fitzstephen of Galway, constrained by\noverwhelming sense of duty to sentence a beloved son to death, or a\nbankrupt beggaring himself and his family by honestly making over to his\ncreditors property with which he might have safely absconded. Plainly,\nsuch virtuous achievement, far from adding to the happiness of its\nauthor, has plunged him in an abyss of misery, his only comfort being\nthat in the lowest deep there is, as we shall presently see, a lower\ndeep still. Far from being happier than he was before acting as he has\ndone, he would be much happier if, being vicious instead of virtuous, he\nhad not felt bound so to act. Unquestionably, what either upright judge\nor honest bankrupt has incurred--the one by becoming a saticide, the\nother by making himself a beggar--is pure and simple pain, unmitigated\nby one particle of positive pleasure. Yet it is at the same time certain\nthat the virtue of each has in some form or other given full\ncompensation for the pain it has occasioned, for not only was that pain\ndeliberately incurred in lieu of the pleasure which it has supplanted,\nbut restoration of the pleasure would now be refused, if reversal of the\nvirtuous conduct were made a condition of the restoration. In what,\nthen, does the compensation consist? In nothing else than this, in judge\nor bankrupt having been saved from pain still greater than that which he\nis actually suffering. Wretched as he is, infinitely more wretched than\nhe was before there was any call upon him to act as he has done, he is\nless wretched than he would be if, recognising the obligation so to act,\nhe had not so acted. He has escaped the stings of conscience, the sense\nof having wronged his neighbour and offended his God; he has escaped, in\nshort, self-condemnation--a torment so intolerable to those so\nconstituted as to be susceptible of it, that hell itself has been known\nto be, in imagination at least, preferred to it. Mr. Mill's splendid\noutburst that, rather than worship a fiend that could send him to hell\nfor refusing, he would go to hell as he was bid, will doubtless occur to\nevery reader.\n\nThis, however, is all. In both the supposed cases, as in every one in\nwhich virtue consists of compliance with a painful duty, the pleasure\narising from the practice of virtue cannot in strictness be called\npleasure at all. At best it is but a partial negation of pain; more\nproperly, indeed, the substitution of one pain for another more acute.\nYet this mere negation, this ethereal inanity, is pronounced by\nUtilitarianism to be preferable to aught that can come into competition\nwith it. Truly it is somewhat hard upon those who attend to such\nteaching, to be reproached with their grossness of taste and likened to\nhogs, for no better reason than their predilection for the lightest of\nall conceivable diets. Still harder will this seem, when we recollect\nthat Utilitarians are exhorted to be virtuous, less for their own than\nfor other people's sakes. If, indeed, virtue were practised by all\nmankind, the utilitarian idea of the greatest possible happiness, or, at\nleast, of the greatest possible exemption from unhappiness, would be\nuniversally realised. Still, it is in order that they may afford\npleasure to the community at large, rather than that they may obtain it\nfor themselves; it is that they may save, not so much themselves, as the\ncommunity, from pain, that individual Utilitarians are charged to be\nvirtuous. Among those pleasures, whether positive or negative, which it\nis allowable to them to seek for themselves, the first place is assigned\nto the pleasure arising from the sense of giving pleasure to others.\nThus, not only is it the purest of pleasures that Utilitarianism chiefly\nrecommends for pursuit: even that pleasure is to be pursued only from\nthe purest and most disinterested motives.\n\nAll this I frankly acknowledge; and I own, too, that, far from deserving\nto be stigmatised as irreligious, Utilitarianism is literally nothing\nelse than an amplification of one moiety of Christianity; that it not\nadopts merely, but expands, 'the golden rule of Jesus of Nazareth,'\nexhorting us to love our neighbour, not simply as well, but better than\nourselves; to do for others, not simply what we would have them do for\nus, but much more than we could have the face to ask them to do; not\nmerely not to pursue our interests at the expense of theirs, but to\nregard as our own chief interest the promotion of theirs. That on\naccount of these exhortations Utilitarianism is godless can be supposed\nby those only who suppose that love to one's neighbour is contrary to\nthe will of God. By those who believe that works are the best signs of\nfaith, and that love to God is best evinced by doing good to man,\nUtilitarianism might rather seem to be but another name for practical\nreligion.\n\nSo I say in all sincerity, though not without some misgiving, as while\nso speaking I involuntarily bethink myself of Balaam, son of Beor, who\nhaving been called forth to curse, caught himself blessing altogether.\nMine eyes, too, have been opened to the good of that which I was\npurposed to condemn, and behold I have as yet done nothing but eulogise.\nNo warmest partisan of Utilitarianism, not Mr. Mill himself, ever spoke\nmore highly of it than I have just been doing. What censures, then, can\nI have in reserve to countervail such praises? What grounds of quarrel\ncan I have with a system of ethics which I have described as ever\nseeking the noblest ends from the purest motives; whose precepts I own\nto be as elevating as its aims are exalted? On reflection, I am\nreassured by recollecting several, which I proceed to bring forward one\nat a time, beginning with a sin enormous enough to cover any multitude\nof merits.\n\nMy first charge against Utilitarianism is that it is not true. I do not\nsay that there is no truth in it. That I have found much to admire in\nits premises has been frankly avowed; and in one, at least, of the\nleading deductions from those premises I partially concur. I admit that\nacts utterly without utility must likewise be utterly without worth;\nthat conduct which subserves the enjoyment neither of oneself nor of any\none else, cannot, except in a very restricted sense, be termed right;\nthat conduct which interferes with the enjoyment both of oneself and of\nall others, which injuring oneself injures others also, and benefits no\none, cannot be otherwise than wrong; that purely objectless asceticism\nwhich has not even self-discipline in view, is not virtue, but folly;\nthat misdirected charity which, engendering improvidence, creates more\ndistress than it relieves, is not virtue, but criminal weakness. But\nthough admitting that there can be no virtue without utility, I do not\nadmit either that virtue must be absent unless utility preponderate, or\nthat if utility preponderate virtue must be present. I deny that any\namount of utility can of itself constitute virtue. I deny that whatever\nadds to the general happiness must be right. Equally do I deny that\nwhatever diminishes the general happiness or prevents its increasing\nmust be wrong. An action, be it observed, may be right in three\ndifferent senses. It may be right as being meritorious, and deserving of\ncommendation. It may be right as being that which one is bound to do,\nfor the doing of which, therefore, one deserves no praise, and for\nneglecting to do which one would justly incur blame. It may be right\nsimply as not being wrong--as being allowable--something which one has a\nright to do, though to refrain from doing it might perhaps be\npraiseworthy. There will be little difficulty in adducing examples of\nconduct which, though calculated to diminish the sum total of happiness,\nwould be right in the first of these senses. Nothing can be easier than\nto multiply examples of such conduct that would be right in the third\nsense. I proceed to cite cases which will answer both these purposes,\nand likewise the converse one of showing that conduct calculated to\nincrease the general happiness may nevertheless be wrong.\n\nWhen the Grecian chiefs, assembled at Aulis, were waiting for a fair\nwind to convey them to Ilium, they were, we are told, warned by what was\nto them as a voice from heaven, that their enterprise would make no\nprogress unless Agamemnon's daughter were sacrificed to Diana. In order\nto place the details of the story in a light as little favourable as\npossible to my argument, we will deviate somewhat from the accepted\nversion, and will suppose that the arrested enterprise was one of even\ngreater pith and moment than tradition ascribes to it. We will suppose\nthat upon its successful prosecution depended the national existence of\nGreece; that its failure would have involved the extermination of\none-half of the people, and the slavery of the other half. We will\nsuppose, too, that of all this Iphigenia was as firmly persuaded as\nevery one else. In these circumstances, had her countrymen a right to\ninsist on her immolation? If so, on what was that right founded? Is it\nsufficient to say in reply that her death was essential to the national\nhappiness, to the extent even of being indispensable to prevent that\nhappiness from being converted into national woe? Manifestly, according\nto the hypothesis, it was expedient for all concerned, with the single\nexception of herself, that she should die; but were the others thereby\nentitled to take her life? Did the fact of its being for their advantage\nto do this warrant their doing it? Simply because it was their interest,\nwas it also their right? Right, we must recollect, invariably implies\ncorresponding duty. Right, it is clear, can never be rightfully\nresisted. If it be the right of certain persons to do a certain thing,\nit must be the duty of all other persons to let that thing be done.\nWhere there is no such duty, there can be no such right. Wherefore, if\nthe 'stern, black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,' who sate 'waiting\nto see her die,' had a right to kill Iphigenia, it must have been\nIphigenia's duty to let herself be killed. Was this then her duty?\n'Duty,' as I have elsewhere observed,[3] 'signifies something due, a\ndebt, indebtedness, and a debt cannot have been incurred for nothing, or\nwithout some antecedent step on the part either of debtor or creditor.'\nBut it is not pretended that in any way whatever, by any antecedent act\nof hers or theirs, Iphigenia had incurred or had been subjected to a\ndebt to her countrymen which could be paid off only with her life. It\ncould not, then, be incumbent on her to let her life be taken in\npayment. If it had been in her power to burst her bonds, and break\nthrough the wolves in human shape that girdled her in, she would have\nbeen guilty of no wrong by escaping. But if not, then, however\nmeritorious it might have been on her part to consent to die for her\ncountrymen, it was not her duty so to die, nor, consequently, had they a\nright to put her to death. She would have been at least negatively right\nin refusing to die, while they were guilty of a very positive and a very\ngrievous wrong in killing her, notwithstanding that both she and they\nwere perfectly agreed that for her to be killed would be for the\nincalculably greater happiness of a greater number, exceeding the lesser\nnumber in the proportion of several hundreds of thousands to one.\n\nIt is true that throughout this affair every one concerned was labouring\nunder a gross delusion--that there was no real use in putting Iphigenia\nto death, and that nothing but superstition made anybody suppose there\nwas. I do not think the case is one less to our purpose on that account,\nfor Utilitarians, like other fallible mortals, are liable to deceive\nthemselves. They never can be quite secure of the genuineness of the\nutility on which they rely, and in default of positive knowledge they\nwill always be reduced to act, as the Grecian chiefs did, according to\nthe best of their convictions. Nevertheless, for the satisfaction of\nthose who distrust romance and insist upon reality, we will leave fable\nfor fact, and take as our next illustration an incident that may any day\noccur.\n\nImagine three shipwrecked mariners to have leapt from their sinking\nvessel into a cockboat scarce big enough to hold them, and the two\nslimmer of the three to have presently discovered that there was little\nor no chance of either of them reaching land unless their over-weighted\ncraft were lightened of their comparatively corpulent companion. Next,\nimagine yourself in the fat sailor's place, and then consider whether\nyou would feel it incumbent on you to submit quietly to be drowned in\norder that the residuum of happiness might be greater than if either you\nall three went to the bottom, or than if you alone were saved. Would you\nnot, far from recognising any such moral obligation, hold yourself\nmorally justified in throwing the other two overboard, if you were\nstrong enough, and if need were, to prevent their similarly ousting you?\nBut if it were not your duty to allow yourself to be cast into the sea,\nthe others could have no right to cast you out; so that, if they did\ncast you out, they would clearly be doing not right but wrong. And yet,\nas clearly, their wrong-doing would have conduced to the greater\nhappiness of the greater number, inasmuch as, while only one life could\notherwise have been saved, it would save two, and inasmuch as,\n_coeteris paribus_, two persons would necessarily derive twice as much\nenjoyment from continued existence as one would. Moreover, their\nwrong-doing would be of a kind calculated always to produce similarly\nuseful results. It cannot, I suppose, be denied that a rule to the\neffect that whenever forfeiture of one life would save two, one life\nshould be sacrificed, would--not exceptionally only, but at large and in\nthe long run--conduce to the saving of life, and therefore to the\nconservation of happiness connected with life.\n\nThe foregoing cases are no doubt both of them extreme, involving\nexaction of the largest possible private sacrifice for the general good;\nbut in all cases of the kind, whether the exaction be small or great,\nthe same governing principle equally applies. If you, a foot-sore,\nhomeward-bound pedestrian, on a sweltering July day, were to see your\nnext-door neighbour driving in the same direction in solitary state,\nwould you have a right to stop his carriage and force yourself in? Nay,\neven though you had just before fallen down and broken your leg, would\nthe compassionating by-standers be justified in forcing him to take you\nin? Or, again, if you were outside a coach during a pelting shower, and\nsaw a fellow-passenger with a spare umbrella between his legs, while an\nunprotected female close beside was being drenched with the rain, would\nyou have a right to wrest the second umbrella from him, and hold it over\nher? That, very likely, is what you would do in the circumstances, and\nfew would be disposed greatly to blame the indignant ebullition. Still,\nunless you are a disciple of Proudhon, you will scarcely pretend that\nyou can have a right to take possession of another's carriage or\numbrella against the owner's will. You can scarcely suppose that it is\nnot for him but for you to decide what use shall be made of articles\nbelonging not to you but to him. Yet there can be no doubt that the\nhappiness of society would be vastly promoted if everyone felt himself\nunder an irresistible obligation to assist his neighbour whenever he\ncould do so with little or no inconvenience to himself, or,\nconsequently, if external force were always at hand to constrain anyone\nso to assist who was unwilling to do so of his own accord.\n\nSo much in proof that among things of the highest and most extensive\nutility there are several which it would be decidedly the reverse of\nright to do, and several others which it would be perfectly right to\nleave undone. I proceed to show that there are many other things not\nsimply not of preponderating utility, but calculated, on the contrary,\nto do more harm than good, to destroy more happiness than they are\ncapable of creating, which, nevertheless, it would be not simply\nallowable to do, but the doing of which would be highly meritorious,\nacts possibly of the most exalted virtue.\n\nLet no one distrust the doctrine of development by reason of its\nsupposed extravagance of pretension who has not duly considered to what\na sublime of moral beauty the united hideousness and absurdity of\nCalvinism may give birth. In that Puritan society of New England of\nwhich Mrs. Beecher Stowe has given so singularly interesting an account\nin her 'Minister's Wooing,' and among whose members it was an universal\narticle of belief that the bulk of mankind are created for the express\npurpose of being consigned to everlasting flames, there are said to have\nbeen not a few enthusiasts in whom a self-concentrating creed begat the\nvery quintessence of self-devotion. 'As a gallant soldier renounces life\nand personal aims in the cause of his king and country, and holds\nhimself ready to be drafted for a forlorn hope, to be shot down, or help\nto make a bridge of his mangled body, over which the more fortunate\nshall pass to victory and glory,' so among the early descendants of the\nPilgrim Fathers many an one 'regarded himself as devoted to the King\nEternal, ready in his hands to be used to illustrate and build up an\neternal commonwealth, either by being sacrificed as a lost spirit, or\nglorified as a redeemed one; ready to throw, not merely his mortal life,\nbut his immortality even, into the forlorn hope, to bridge, with a\nnever-dying soul, the chasm over which white-robed victors should pass\nto a commonwealth of glory and splendour, whose vastness should dwarf\nthe misery of all the lost to an infinitesimal.' And while by many the\nidea of suffering everlasting pains for the glory of God, and the good\nof being in general, was thus contemplated with equanimity, there were\nsome few for whom the idea of so suffering for the good of others dearer\nthan themselves would have been greeted with positive exultation. 'And\ndon't I care for your soul, James?' exclaims Mary Scudder to her lover.\n'If I could take my hopes of heaven out of my own heart and give them to\nyou, I would. Dr. H. preached last Sunday on the text, \"I could wish\nmyself accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen,\" and he went on\nto show how we must be willing to give up even our own salvation, if\nnecessary, for the good of others. People said it was a hard doctrine,\nbut I could feel my way through it. Yes, I would give my soul for yours.\nI wish I could.' Now we must on no account permit admiration of Miss\nScudder's transcendent generosity in desiring to make this exchange\nblind us to the fatal effect on social happiness which, if such\nexchange were possible, the prevalence of a disposition to make it could\nnot fail to have. If Calvinism were true instead of blasphemous, if God\nwere really the Moloch it represents Him, and if, moreover, Moloch were\nindifferent as to which of his offspring were cast into the fire, caring\nonly that the prescribed number of victims should be forthcoming in full\ntale, nothing can be conceived more likely to prove an encouragement to\nevil-doers, and a terror to them that did well, than observation that\nwell-doing not infrequently led to eternal misery, and evil-doing to\neternal bliss. Again, if in China, where criminals under sentence of\ndeath are permitted, if they can, by purchase or otherwise, to procure\nsubstitutes to die in their stead, a son were to propose to die for a\nparent base enough to take advantage of the offer, could any arrangement\nbe more plainly repugnant to the common-weal than that by which society\nwould thus lose one of its noblest, instead of getting rid of one of its\nvilest members? Or, when in England, a thrifty son, by consenting to cut\nthe entail of an estate to which he is heir-apparent, enables a prodigal\nfather to consume in riotous living substance which would otherwise have\neventually become his, is he not clearly taking the worse course for the\npublic by permitting the property to be wasted, instead of causing it to\nbe husbanded?\n\nBeyond all question, American Puritan, Chinese or English devotee to\nfilial affection, would thus, each in her or his degree, have, in the\ncircumstances supposed, acted in a manner opposed to the general\ninterest, and would therefore be condemned by Utilitarianism as having\nacted immorally. Nor could this verdict be gainsaid if utility and\nmorality were, as Utilitarianism assumes them to be, one and the same\nthing. Clearly, that the just should suffer for the unjust, the innocent\nfor the guilty, is diametrically opposed to the welfare of society;\nwherefore, according to utilitarian principles, by consenting so to\nsuffer, the just becomes unjust, the innocent renders himself guilty.\nBut can there be a better proof that utilitarian principles are unsound\nthan that this should be a legitimate deduction from them? Can there be\nbetter proof that utility and morality are not identical, but two\nabsolutely distinct things? Plainly, there can be no meritorious or\ncommendable immorality; neither can there be any virtue which is not\nmeritorious and commendable. Is there, then, no merit, nothing\ncommendable, in accepting ruin or in volunteering to die temporarily, or\nto perish everlastingly, in order to save a fellow-creature from ruin,\nor death, or perdition? Does not such conduct, considered independently\nand without reference either to its utility or its hurtfulness, command\nour instantaneous and enthusiastic admiration? But how, being so\nadmirable, can it be immoral? how other than virtuous? What else is it,\nindeed, but the very perfection of that purest virtue which, content to\nbe its own reward, deliberately cuts itself off from all other\nrecompense? Without changing the immemorial meaning of the most familiar\nwords, there is no avoiding the obvious answers to these questions. If\nvirtue and morality, right and wrong, are to continue to mean anything\nlike that which, except by Utilitarians, has always been considered to\nbe their only meaning, it is not simply not wrong, it is not simply\nright, it is among the highest achievements of virtue and morality to\nsacrifice your own in order to secure another's happiness, and the\ndisinterestedness, and therefore the virtue, is surely the greater,\nrather than less, if you sacrifice more happiness of your own than you\nsecure to another. So much follows necessarily from what has been said,\nand something more besides. It follows further that Utilitarianism is\nnot less in error in declaring that actions calculated to diminish the\ntotal sum of happiness must necessarily be wrong, cannot possibly be\nallowable, still less meritorious, than it had previously been shown to\nbe in declaring that actions calculated to augment the sum total of\nhappiness must necessarily be meritorious.\n\nThere is but one way in which Utilitarianism can even temporarily rebut\nthe charge of fallacy, of which otherwise it must here stand convicted,\nand that is by renouncing all claim to be a new system of ethics, and\nnot pretending to be more than a new system of nomenclature. And even\nso, it could not help contradicting, and thereby refuting itself. That\nnothing is right but what is of preponderating utility; that whatever is\nof preponderating utility is right; these are propositions perfectly\nintelligible, indeed, but which will be found to be tenable only on\ncondition that the very same things may be both right and wrong. The\nconfusion, thrice confounded, inseparable from the substitution of such\nnovel definitions for those which had previously been universally in\nvogue, is but the smaller of two evils which must thence arise. It would\nbe bad enough that the word 'right' could not be used without raising\ndoubt whether what people had previously understood by the 'just' or the\n'generous,' or only the 'expedient' were meant; but a still worse\nconsequence would be that, even if no doubt of the sort were\nentertained, and if all men were agreed to take the word in none but its\nutilitarian sense, the landmarks of right and wrong would thereby be\nwell nigh obliterated. Due credit has already been given to\nUtilitarianism for its exemplary zeal in inculcating the practice of\nvirtue, but its merit in that respect is more than neutralised by its\nequally zealous inculcation of principles, according to which it is\nimpossible to decide beforehand whether any particular practice will be\nvirtuous or not.\n\nThis is my second charge against Utilitarianism. I maintain it to be a\ndoctrine in most of its essentials erroneous; but I maintain, further,\nthat, even if it were correct, instead of furnishing us with an\ninfallible criterion of right and wrong, it would deprive us of the\nmeans of clearly distinguishing between right and wrong at all times at\nwhich the power of so distinguishing is of practical value. Bluntly\nenough, I have pronounced it to be false. With equal bluntness, I now\nadd that, even if it were true, it would, all the same, be practically\nmischievous, and directly opposed to the very utility from which it\ntakes its name. The argument in support of this charge shall now be\nstated.\n\nAccording to utilitarian ethics, the morality of actions depends wholly\nand solely on their consequences. On this point the language of\nauthority is distinct, emphatic, unanimous, and self-contradictory.\n'Utilitarian moralists,' says the chief amongst them, 'have gone beyond\nall others in affirming that the motive has nothing to do with the\nmorality of an action.... He who saves a fellow-creature from drowning\ndoes what is morally right, whether his motive be duty or the hope of\nbeing paid for his trouble.' Upon which I would observe, in passing,\nthat to save a fellow-creature from drowning can be deemed to be\nnecessarily right by none but uncompromising opponents of capital\npunishment. Most others will be disposed to doubt its having been a\nsufficient reason for commuting the sentence of death passed upon the\nmurderer of Dhuleep Sing's gamekeeper, that, owing to physical\nmalformation, hanging might perhaps have given him more than ordinary\npain in the neck, or perhaps have prolonged the pleasure which,\naccording to the select few qualified to speak from experience, is\nattendant on that mode of strangulation. Neither, without sacrificing\nhis judgment to his feelings, could one of these doubters, if Rutherford\nhad been sentenced to be drowned instead of hanged, have stretched out a\nhand to save the miscreant from the watery grave he so richly deserved.\nThat there are no actions which by reason of their beneficial\nconsequences are always and invariably moral, might be too much to\naffirm; but I have no hesitation in saying that there are thousands, the\nmorality or immorality of which--their results remaining the\nsame--depends absolutely on their motives. Thus, if two doctors--of\nwhom, for distinction's sake, we will call one Smethurst and the other\nSmith--in attendance on patients afflicted with precisely the same\ndisease, were by the administration of overdoses of strychnine each to\nkill his man, the only difference between them being that whereas one\nintended and expected to kill, the other hoped to cure--would the act of\nkilling be equally immoral in both cases? Would it not in the one case\nbe murder, in the other mere error of judgment; and would both be\nequally crimes, or would the latter be in any degree criminal? And if it\nhad been Smethurst instead of Smith who committed the error of\njudgment--if the overdoses by which he had meant to kill had happened to\ncure--would his error of judgment have thereby been rendered moral,\nnotwithstanding that his motive was murder?\n\nThe same great teacher, who so strenuously insists that the motive has\nnothing to do with the morality of an action, does indeed go on to say\nthat it has 'much to do with the worth of the agent.' Here, however, I\nconfess myself unable to follow him. That an act may possess morality\nindependent of the agent, may be intelligible on the assumption that\nmorality means simply utility, and nothing more; but how, even then,\nworth can be evinced by the performance of an immoral action, is beyond\nmy comprehension, except upon the further assumption that there may be\nworth in immorality.\n\nWaiving, however, these and all other objections, let us for the moment,\nand for the sake of argument, assume that morality and utility are\nreally one and the same thing, that the right or wrong of an act depends\nentirely on its results, and then let us observe how utterly without\nrudder or compass to assist him in steering correctly will be the\nbest-intentioned navigator of the ocean of life.\n\nWe can seldom, if ever, be quite sure what will be the result of our\nconduct. Meaning to cure, we may only too probably kill; meaning to\nkill, we may not impossibly cure. Until a thing is done, we cannot\ndetermine as to its utility; nor, consequently, in an utilitarian sense,\nas to the morality of doing it. We must trust implicitly to our skill in\ncalculating events, and if that skill happen to fail us, our conduct may\nbecome culpable. With the most earnest desire to act righteously, we can\nonly guess beforehand whether what we propose doing will turn out to be\nrighteous, and can never be sure, therefore, that we are not going to do\nsomething wicked.\n\nHere I shall, of course, and very properly, be reminded that what\nUtilitarianism requires to be taken into account, are not merely the\nprobable consequences of some proposed act, but the usual consequences\nof all acts of the same description; so that its disciples, instead of\nbeing left to their conjectures about the future, may be said to have\nall past experience to refer to. And undeniably Utilitarianism does\nrequire this; thereby, however, contradicting itself as, I just now\nhinted, it would presently be found doing. It does indeed declare those\nactions only to be moral which in the long run are conducive to, or at\nleast not opposed to, the general happiness; but it also says that the\nmorality of each particular action depends on its own particular\nconsequences. So that the docile disciple who should do something which,\nthough useful in the long run, happened to be otherwise in his\nparticular case--who, for instance, should save the life of a\nfellow-creature of whom it would have been well for the world to be rid,\nwould, to his disgust and bewilderment, find that while, with no desire\nbut that of acting rightly, he had been obeying one utilitarian law, he\nhad nevertheless been infringing another law of the same code, and\nthereby acting wrongly.\n\nOverlooking, however, this incongruity of two equally authoritative\nrules, let us proceed to consider what dangerous latitude of\ninterpretation is allowed to the followers of either of them. Those who\nbelieve that the merit or demerit of each separate action depends on\nthat action's separate consequences, need seldom be at a loss for a\npretext for committing the most heinous of crimes. A husband who, hating\nhis wife, had his hate returned, and loving another woman, had his love\nreturned, might plausibly reason thus within himself: The prescribed\nobjects of life are the multiplication of happiness and the diminution\nof misery; here are three of us, all doomed to be miserable as long as\nwe all three live; but the wretchedness of two of us might be at once\nconverted into happiness, if the third were put out of the way. By some\nsuch logical process, Queen Mary and Bothwell may have satisfied\nthemselves of the propriety of blowing up Darnley: Mr. and Mrs. Manning,\nas they sate at meat with their destined victim over his ready-made\ngrave, may have argued themselves into self-approval of the crowning\nrite with which their hospitalities were to terminate: any scampish\napprentice with designs upon his master's till, any burglar plotting an\nentry into a goldsmith's shop, may become convinced of his rectitude of\npurpose, and even take credit for public-spirited zeal, in seeking to\nappropriate to his own use part of another's wealth, which he may fairly\nsuppose would be productive of more enjoyment if divided between two or\nmore than if left in the hands of one, and that one already perhaps the\npossessor of more than he knows what to do with.\n\nPrecisely the same sophistry will not indeed suffice for those disciples\nwho, adopting the alternative law of the utilitarian code, feel bound to\nattend to the consequences not of individual actions, but of classes of\nactions. The cleverest self-deceiver can scarcely bring himself to\nbelieve that, because it might suit his personal convenience to kill or\nsteal, killing and stealing would not be prejudicial to society if\ngenerally practised. Still, it is only necessary to have, or to fancy\none has, public instead of private objects in view, in order to be able\nto look with approbation, from an utilitarian point of view, on any\namount of homicide or robbery. It was the very same Robespierre that,\nwhile as yet diocesan judge at Arras, felt constrained to abdicate\nbecause, 'behold, one day comes a culprit whose crime merits hanging,\nand strict-minded, strait-laced Max's conscience will not permit the\ndooming of any son of Adam to die,' who, shortly after, when\nsufficiently imbued with the utilitarian spirit, was fully prepared to\nwade through floods of slaughter towards the enthronisation of his\nprinciples--one of those principles evidently being that, if the\ndecimation of mankind would conduce to the greater happiness of the\nresidue, adding more to the happiness of the nine-tenths whom it spared\nthan it took from the tenth whom it destroyed, the said decimation would\nbe a duty incumbent on any one possessed of power to perpetrate it.\n\nNor are principles like these appealed to only by those who have\nrecourse to them for the vindication of their own procedure. At those\n_petits-soupers_--bachelors' dinners is their modern English name,\n_noctes coenaeque deum_ their ancient classical--for which some of our\nLondon clubs are deservedly celebrated, and with which the Garrick in\nespecial is, in my mind, gratefully associated--at those choice\ngatherings of congenial spirits, conversation, changing from gay to\ngrave, turns not unfrequently, among other lofty topics, on that which\nwe are here discussing. Then, even at such divine symposium, one at\nleast of the guests is pretty sure to take the part of devil's advocate,\nand to exercise his forensic skill in showing how easily interchangeable\nare the names of virtue and iniquity, crime and well-doing. September\nmassacres then find, not their apologist, but their eulogist. _Noyades_\nof Carrier, _fusilades_ of Collot d'Herbois, are cited as examples very\nsuitable for imitation in adequate emergencies. Prussia's seizure, on\nbehalf of Germany, of Schleswig and Holstein, on pretence of their being\nnot Danish, but German, and her subsequent retention of them for herself\non the plea of their having always been not German, but Danish, are\napplauded as acts perfectly consistent with each other and with the\neternal fitness of things. And all this is urged in the best possible\nfaith. Of the recited enormities, were not some, steps to the\nregeneration of France--others, to the unifaction of Germany? And what\nare myriads of lives in comparison with a regenerate--what violation of\nthe most solemn engagements in comparison with a united, people? Did not\nthe millions of Frenchmen who survived the Reign of Terror gain more\nthan was lost by the thousands who were guillotined at Paris, or drowned\nat Nantes, or shot down at Lyons? Is not Germany likely to turn Kiel to\nfar better account than Denmark ever did or could have done? and will\nnot German ascendency be abundant compensation for Danish decadence? How\nculpably misplaced, then, were conscientious scruples that would have\nimpeded the march of events in such directions! Ends need but to be\ngreat enough to justify any means. Let but the good promise to exceed\nthe evil, and there is no evil which ought not to be done in order that\ngood may come of it. Thus slightly qualified, the Satanic adage, 'Evil,\nbe thou my good,' is, without more ado, accepted as the utilitarian\nwatchword.\n\nAnd what though it be only the most thorough-paced Utilitarians who go\nthese extreme lengths? These lengths, extreme as they are, are\nlegitimate deductions from tenets held in common by the most moderate\nand cautious as well as by the most reckless of the sect. Crime in the\nabstract is condemned not less vehemently by the latter than by the\nformer; but by both equally it is condemned on account, not of its\ninherent vileness, but solely of its observed results. If the results\nwere different, the agency to which they are due would be fitted with a\ndifferent epithet. If a world could be conceived to be so organised, or,\nif this world of ours could be conceived to be so changed as that the\npractice of killing, stealing, or telling lies would be conducive to the\ngeneral good, the practice in question would obtain a new name in the\nUtilitarian vocabulary. Crime would become beneficence; and to kill, to\nsteal, or to tell lies would be not wrong, but right. These are\npropositions which, without abjuring the prime articles of his creed,\nthe most timid Utilitarian has no alternative but to endorse; but how,\nthen, can he shut his eyes to their obvious application? How presume to\nrebuke those earnest philanthropists, who, to judge from their habitual\nlanguage, are firmly of opinion that annihilation of one half of mankind\nwould be a small price to pay for conversion of the other moiety into\ncitizens of a world-wide Red Republic; or those admirers of Prince\nBismarck, who, holding national aggrandisement to be the national\n_summum bonum_, deem the most solemn treaties that might impede it to be\nobstacles which it is obligatory on a patriot to set aside? Will not the\neffects of any given cause vary with the changes in the circumstances in\nwhich the cause acts? May it not easily happen that the direct effect of\nsome private crime shall be to augment, instead of to diminish the total\nhappiness of all the persons affected by it? And is it not, then,\nconceivable that a public crime, provided it be of sufficient magnitude,\nmay more than counterpoise, by the good it is calculated to do, all the\nharm that all crimes of the same description either have done or are\nlikely to do hereafter? It is idle to reply that such a comparison\nbetween public good and evil must needs be mistaken: that the harm, for\ninstance, which violation of treaties does to mankind by sapping the\nfoundations of international confidence, rendering impossible\ninternational co-operation, and bringing the very name of international\nmorality into contempt, is infinitely beyond any good it can do in the\nshape of national aggrandisement. Whether this be so or not is matter of\nopinion, on which every one may fairly insist on forming his own, and if\nthat opinion be in the negative, a utilitarian agent, in Prince\nBismarck's circumstances, would be bound in duty to imitate Prince\nBismarck's high-handed policy. In all circumstances of international\nimport, in all cases bearing upon the general interests of society, a\nUtilitarian, after deciding according to his lights which of the various\ncourses open to him would best promote the general welfare, either\nimmediately by its direct effects, or subsequently and indirectly by the\nexample it would set, would be bound in duty to adopt that course. That\ncourse, however wrong it might have appeared in all previous cases,\nwould now become right, as being apparently the one most conducive to\nthe future welfare of mankind. Utilitarianism's standard of morality\nthus turns out to be, not any fixed and definite notion of expediency,\nbut one liable to change with every change in individual judgment. Its\nboasted criterion of the right or wrong of an action is the best\nconjecture which the agent, with or without extrinsic advice, is able to\nform of the future consequences of the action. Utilitarian law, in\nshort, resolves itself into this--that every man shall be a law unto\nhimself. Of course no Utilitarians will acknowledge this to be their\nlaw, not even those who shape their conduct in exact conformity to it.\nNevertheless, that such is the law follows necessarily from their own\npremises. For does not Utilitarianism sometimes--a little heedlessly,\nperhaps, but not the less positively--declare that the morality of an\naction depends not at all upon its motives, but exclusively upon its\nconsequences? Does it not, when most guarded in its language, affirm the\nmorality of actions to depend upon their tendencies, that is to say, on\ntheir consequences at large, and in the long run? But there can never be\nperfect certainty as to consequences. With regard to the future,\nplausible conjecture is the utmost possible; and by differing judgments\ndifferent conjectures will needs be made. So that the value of the rule\nof conduct furnished by Utilitarianism to any individual depends upon\nthe latter's ability, supplemented by that of any counsellors whom he\nmay consult, to forecast events. He cannot proceed correctly, except in\nso far as he or they have the gift of prophecy. However dull his vision\nmay be, he must content himself with his own blind guidance, unless he\nprefer as guide some one who, for aught he can tell, may be as blind as\nhimself. And it is always for himself to judge whether he will follow\nadvice: so that in effect every Utilitarian is his own moral law-giver;\nand, certainly, a worse assignment of legislative functions cannot be\nimagined.\n\nBut the mischievousness of Utilitarianism does not stop here. We have\nseen how one of its principles destroys the landmarks between right and\nwrong, between virtue and vice, causing each to take continually the\nplace of its opposite. We have now to see how another of its principles\nobliterates all distinctions between different kinds of virtue,\nconfounding them in one indiscriminate mass, and imparting to them a\nsort of general oneness not more lucid than that which, according to\nMr. Curdle, is the essence of the dramatic unities.\n\nThe object which it insists upon as conduct's end and aim is the general\ngood--the greatest possible aggregate of good or happiness for all. As\nthe Scriptures enjoin us, whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do,\nto do all to the glory of God, so Utilitarianism exhorts us to do all\nfor the welfare of mankind. Now, far be it from me to caricature this\nsoul-inspiring rule by forcing it, under a strained construction, to an\nunnatural extreme. Fairly examined, it will be seen to make no\nextravagant demands on our self-denial. As Christianity, even while\nbidding us to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,\npromises that all other things shall be added unto us, so\nUtilitarianism, even while insisting on our seeking first to please\nothers, permits, nay, directs, us to take as much pleasure for ourselves\nas we can lay hold of without depriving others, since the aggregate of\nhappiness which it is incumbent upon us to augment to the best of our\nability would otherwise be less. Nay, for the same reason, it\ndisapproves of our foregoing any pleasure of our own, the full\nequivalent of which is not transferred to others. The happiness which it\nrequires us to attend to is that of a society of which each of us is a\ncomponent member, and no member of which can deny himself any pleasure\nwithin his reach, and beyond the reach of others, without diminishing\nthe total of happiness which the whole society might enjoy. 'As between\nhis own happiness and that of others,' says Mr. Mill, 'Utilitarianism\nrequires an agent to be as strictly impartial as a disinterested and\nbenevolent spectator.' Thus qualified, the prescribed subordination of\none's own to the general good is no such extravagantly self-denying\nordinance. If for anything, it might rather be reproached for its cold,\ncalculating equity. With reference quite as much to individual as to\ncommunal happiness it is an excellent rule of conduct, against which not\na word could be said, provided only it were left to be adopted\nvoluntarily, and were not authoritatively imposed.\n\nUnfortunately, however, Utilitarianism allows no option in the matter.\nUnless we do our very utmost to promote the general weal, at whatever\nsacrifice to ourselves, it charges us with sin of omission. In the words\nof one of the ablest among able Editors, 'justice is the social idea in\nits highest, widest, and most binding expression.... It signifies the\nmoral principle which obliges each so to shape his conduct and\nrelations, his claims and his achievements, that they harmonise with the\nhighest good of all.'[4] To which doctrine of Mr. Morley's, if other\nUtilitarians do not subscribe, it can only be because they are less\nresolutely logical. Mr. Mill, indeed, though dissenting in appearance on\nthis point from Mr. Morley, agrees with him in substance. Even when on\none occasion, distinguishing between duty and virtue, he says that there\nare innumerable acts and forbearances of human beings which, though\neither causes or hindrances of good to their fellow-creatures, lie\nbeyond the domain of duty, and within that of virtue or merit, he goes\non to assign as the sole reason for placing them in the domain of the\nlatter that, in respect to them, it is, on the whole, for the general\ninterest that people should be left free, thereby plainly intimating\nthat society would be equitably entitled to insist on them if it thought\nproper. But conduct that can be equitably insisted on is clearly, in the\nstrictest sense, duty; and it would be preposterous to claim merit for\ndoing that which it would be a breach of duty to leave undone. Duties do\nnot cease to be duties because he on whom they are incumbent is not\ncompelled under penalty to perform them, any more than debts cease to be\ndebts because creditors do not choose to ask for payment. All consistent\nutilitarian teaching points inflexibly towards Mr. Morley's conclusion,\naccording to which justice and social virtue are absolutely identical,\nand according to which, also, whoever does not shape his 'conduct, &c.,\nin harmony with the highest good of all,' does less than is due from\nhim, while it is impossible for him to do more. For whatever he propose\nto do must either be or not be in the prescribed harmony. If it be, he\nis bound to do it. If not, he is bound not to do it. The very utmost he\ncan do is no more than is incumbent upon him. Less than his very utmost\nis less than is incumbent. No action of his, therefore, can possess any\nmerit; for mere fulfilment of obligations is reckoned not of grace, but\nof debt. Having done everything, he is still but an unprofitable\nservant; he has but done that which was his duty to do. Where, then, is\nthe boast of virtue? It is excluded. By what law? By that of\nUtilitarianism, set forth in its full amplitude. Honesty and generosity,\nfaith, truth, charity, patient endurance, and chivalrous self-devotion,\nall are mingled together under the name of justice, and justice itself\nonly remains just as long as it remains identical with the largest\nexpediency.\n\nAt this rate we cannot possibly have any virtue to plume ourselves upon.\nThe best we can do being no more than our duly, the only reward we can\nclaim is exemption from the punishment we should have deserved if we had\nnot done it. Whether it be that we have abstained from killing or\nrobbing our fellow-citizens for our own advantage, or have impoverished\nor half-killed ourselves in the service of the State, our meed is the\nsame. _Loris non ureris. Non pasces in cruce corvos_, is what we are\ntold. We may congratulate ourselves on having escaped the\ncat-o'-nine-tails and the gallows. Well, we have, most of us, so much\nself-sufficiency, that to deprive us of all ground for it might be a\nfault on the right side. But now comes a second and more awkward\nreflection. If you will not of your own accord do your duty, those to\nwhom performance of the duty is owing have a right to use means to make\nyou--foul means if fair means will not avail. If, then, you hesitate to\ndo your utmost for the interests of society, society is warranted in\ntaking measures to accelerate your movement. If you are not, or what is\npractically the same thing, if a numerical majority of your\nfellow-citizens think you are not, making the most beneficial use of\nyour property; if it be generally considered that it would be for the\ngreater good of the greater number to divide your park and garden into\npeasant properties and cottage allotments, to double the wages of the\nworkmen in your employment, or to subject you and the likes of you to a\ngraduated income tax for the purpose of setting up national workshops to\ncompete with you in your own trade; and, if you do not readily enter\ninto the same views, then the said numerical majority are not simply\nwarranted in taking the law into their own hands and doing, in spite of\nyou, what they think ought to be done with your property, but would be\nculpably remiss if they neglected so to act.\n\nNow it is needless to dwell on the extent to which that large numerical\nmajority of our fellow-citizens which consists of the working classes is\nimbued with this notion, nor, except to those who are similarly imbued,\ncan it be necessary to insist that there is no notion of which it is\nmore indispensable to disabuse the working-class mind. This,\naccordingly, I strove to do throughout a recent work of mine, 'On\nLabour,' particularly in the chapter which treats of the claims and\nrights thereof. I there earnestly pleaded that there may be, and are,\nprivate rights independent of utility which no public needs can cancel;\nthat all which any man, or set of men, is entitled to exact from another\nis payment or fulfilment of what is due to him or them from that other;\nthat unless the poverty of the many has been caused by the few, the many\nare not warranted in extorting relief of their wants from the few; that\nthe mere circumstance of their being without food or work does not\nentitle the poor to be fed or employed by the rich, for that there is\nlikewise a justice independent of and superior to utility, consisting\nsimply of respect for rights, while injustice consists simply of\nviolation of rights.\n\nIn so arguing, I ran directly counter to Utilitarianism, provoking\nthereby a retaliatory assault from Utilitarianism's tutelary champion,\nwho, as readers of the 'Fortnightly Review'[5] are aware, bore down upon\nme with an energy no whit the less effective for being tempered with all\nknightly courtesy. Yet, not to say it vaingloriously, I am not conscious\nof having been shaken in the saddle, and I now return to the encounter\nwith modest assurance, firmly believing mine to be the better cause, and\nrecollecting too that in a contest with Mr. Mill, let the issue be what\nit may, I may at least comfort myself with the reflection\n\n  Minus turpe vinci quam contendisse decorum.\n\nI must at the outset be permitted to remark that one or two of Mr.\nMill's objections to my statements are based upon misconception of their\nmeaning. I never questioned, but, on the contrary, have always in the\ndistinctest terms admitted that society is perfectly at liberty to put\nan end to the institution of property in land. No extremest Socialist\never went beyond me in proclaiming that the 'earth was bestowed by the\nCreator, not on any privileged class or classes, but on all mankind and\non all successive generations of men, so that no one generation can have\nmore than a life interest in the soil, or be entitled to alienate the\nbirthright of succeeding generations.'[6] No one more fully recognises\nthat property in land exists only on sufferance and by concession, and\nthat society, which made the concession, may at any moment take it back\non giving full compensation to the concessioners.\n\nAgain, when asserting the inviolability of moveable, as distinguished\nfrom landed, property, I was careful to limit the assertion to property\nhonestly acquired. I never supposed it possible to acquire by\nprescription 'a fee simple in an injustice.' Only, if in any particular\ninstance it be suspected that property has been acquired by force,\nfraud, or robbery, I contend that the _onus probandi_ lies on him who\nraises the question. It is for him to show, if he can, that a commercial\nfortune has, as Mr. Mill suggests, been built up by 'jobbing contracts,\nprofligate loans, or other reprehensible practices.' But if this cannot\nbe shown, the validity of the actual possessor's title must not be\nimpugned. Property must be treated as of innocent acquisition and\nderivation until proved to be of guilty. And that not merely because\nthere could otherwise be no rights of property at all, since it must\nalways be impossible for any owner to demonstrate that neither he nor\nany one of those from whom he derives ever either overreached in a\nbargain or failed in a contract; but also, and much more, because\nwhether a person be or be not the rightful owner of the wealth in his\npossession, no one can possibly be entitled to despoil him unless the\nwealth can be shown to have been ill-gotten. That right must be held to\nbe complete with which no one can show a right to interfere.\n\nThe gravest, however, of Mr. Mill's criticisms is that mine is 'a\ndoctrine _a priori_, claiming to command assent by its own light, and to\nbe evident by simple intuition.' This is an imputation to which I am so\nunaware of having laid myself open that I can account for its having\nbeen made only on the supposition that Mr. Mill, in common with most\nother Utilitarians, imagines that their only opponents are\nIntuitionists, and that it is only necessary to set aside the tenets of\nthese in order to get their own established instead. If this were really\nthe case, utilitarian advocacy would be a comparatively easy task.\nIntuitionism, whether capable or not of being disproved, is by its\nnature unsusceptible of decisive proof. If I, in support of the\nproposition that there is in the human mind an intuitive sense of any\nsort, were to assert that I had such a sense while you denied that you\nhad, it would be impossible for me to prove you to be mistaken, while,\nunless you were mistaken as to your individual experience, I should\nclearly be mistaken as to the generalisation which I had based upon\nmine. But I never said a word about an intuitive sense of right and\nwrong. How could I, seeing, as no one who chooses to look can fail to\nsee, that the instincts of untutored children prompt them to disregard\nall rights but their own, to spit cockchafers, rob birds' nests, and\nconfiscate younger children's cakes and apples? All I say is that there\nmay be and are rights independent of and even opposed to utility, and\nthese, for reasons which shall immediately be stated, I call natural\nrights; but I do not say that they are intuitively perceived. As for\nsense of justice or of duty, or moral sense or faculty, what I\nunderstand by that is not recognition of certain rights or duties as\nsuch, but recognition of the obligation to respect whatever rights\nand to fulfil whatever duties are recognised, according to which\ndefinition it is mere tautology to add that the sense or faculty in\nquestion originates simultaneously with the recognition of any rights\nor duties. For inasmuch as rights invariably imply corresponding\nobligations--inasmuch as if a thing be rightfully claimed, that same\nthing must needs be due or owing, it is of course impossible to perceive\nthat a thing is _owing_ without perceiving at the same moment that it\n_ought_ to be paid. On this account, and with this explanation, I should\nnot scruple to speak of the moral sense as intuitive; but if for that\nreason I am to be called an Intuitionist, so equally must Mr. Mill, for\nhe has said precisely the same thing. He likewise has said that 'the\nmoral faculty, if not a part of our nature, is a natural out-growth from\nit, capable, in a certain small degree, of springing up spontaneously.'\n\n\nII.\n\nBy my avowal of a belief in 'Natural Rights,' I feel that I must have\nincurred in philosophic quarters a sort of civil contempt, which I am\nvery desirous of removing, and which will, I trust, be somewhat\ndiminished on my proceeding to explain how few and elementary are the\nrights that I propose for naturalisation. They are but two in number,\nand they are these:--(1) Absolute right, except in so far as the same\nmay have been forfeited by misconduct or modified by consent, to deal in\nany way one pleases, not noxious to other people, with one's own self or\nperson; (2) right equally absolute to dispose similarly of the produce\neither of one's own honest industry, or of that of others whose rights\nin connection with it have been honestly acquired by oneself. I call\nthese 'rights,' because there cannot possibly anywhere exist either the\nright to prevent their being exercised, or any rights with which they\ncan clash, and because, therefore, by their freest exercise, no one can\npossibly be wronged, while to interfere with their exercise would be to\nwrong their possessor. And I call them 'natural,' because they are not\nartificially created, and have no need of external ratification. Whoever\nthinks proper to deny this--whoever, as all Utilitarians do, contends\nthat society is entitled to interfere with the rights which I have\ncalled natural, is bound to attempt to show how society became so\nentitled; when for the claim he puts forward on society's behalf he will\nfind it impossible to produce any plausible pretext, without crediting\nsociety with possession of a right belonging to that same 'natural'\nclass, the existence of which he denies. For, as there can be no rights\nwithout corresponding obligations or duties, if it be really the right\nof society to deal at its discretion with the persons or effects of\nindividuals, it must be incumbent on individuals to permit themselves\nand whatever is theirs to be so dealt with. Have, then, individuals\nincurred any such obligation? No obligation, be it remembered, can\narise, except through some antecedent act of one or other or both of the\nparties concerned. Either a pledge of some sort must have been given or\na benefit of some sort must have been received. Now undoubtedly there\nare no limits to the extent to which society and its individual members\nmight have reciprocally pledged themselves. It might have been\nstipulated by their articles of association that society at large should\ndo its utmost for the welfare of each of its members, and that each of\nits members should do his utmost for the welfare of society at large.\nBut it is certain, either that no such compact ever was made, or that,\nif made, it has always been systematically set at nought. Society has\nnever made much pretence of troubling itself about the welfare of\nindividuals, except in certain specified particulars; so that, even if\nindividuals had, on condition of being treated with reciprocal\nsolicitude, accepted the obligation of attending to the welfare of\nsociety in other than the same particulars, that conditional obligation\nwould from the commencement have been null and void. The one thing which\nsociety invariably pledges itself to do is to protect person and\nproperty, and by implication to enforce performance of contracts; and\nthe two things which individual associates in turn pledge themselves to\ndo are to abstain from molesting each other's persons and property, and\nto assist society in protecting both. In so abstaining and so assisting\nconsist all those 'many acts and the still greater number of\nforbearances, the perpetual practice of which by all is,' as Mr. Mill\nsays, 'universally deemed to be so necessary to the general well-being,\nthat people must be held to it compulsorily, either by law or by social\npressure.'[7] Under one or other of these two heads may be ranged\neverything that individuals owe to society in return for the mere\nprotection which they receive from it.\n\nTrue, there is an universal understanding that individuals shall be\nsubject to any laws, whether wise or foolish, provided only they be of\nequal and impartial operation, which may be enacted by a numerical\nmajority of the community to which the individuals belong; and in this\nmanner individuals may become bound by any number of miscellaneous\npledges, society acquiring simultaneously the right to hold individuals\nto the performance of those pledges. Thus, if by the vote of an\nunimpeachably representative House of Commons it were declared to be for\nthe general good, and agreed to accordingly, that every one should be\nvaccinated or circumcised, it would be incumbent on every one to submit\nquietly to vaccination or circumcision, however deleterious the\noperation might be deemed by some. Or if, improving upon a hypothetical\nsuggestion of Mr. Mill, a parliament elected by constituencies in which\nthe labouring-class element greatly predominated, should prospectively\nforbid the accumulation by any individual of property beyond a specified\namount, then, though the almost certain consequence would be that the\nprescribed limit of accumulation would not be exceeded, still if it were\nexceeded, the accumulator could not justly complain when the surplus was\nforfeited according to law. Yet even thus the obligations or duties\ncreated will correspond exactly with the pledges given; none will be\nincurred except such as have been imposed by special legislation--nor\neven those, unless the legislation have been impartial. A law requiring\npeople to pay poor's-rates would not suffice as a pretext for requiring\nthem to pay education rates likewise. Neither if, instead of passing the\nprospective law just now supposed, a governing majority which had\npreviously always permitted the indefinite accumulation of wealth, were\nretrospectively to decree the forfeiture of all past accumulations\nbeyond a defined amount, would individuals be morally bound to submit to\nsuch a decree if they could contrive to evade it, any more than\nsexquipedalians would be bound to lay their heads on the block in\nobedience to a law directing everybody six feet high to be decapitated.\nAll such partial legislation would be tyrannical, and circumstances must\nbe very peculiar indeed to make submission to tyranny a duty. But of all\nconceivable legislation, none could possibly be more partial, or\ntherefore more tyrannical, than such as should give to society a general\npower of dealing at its pleasure with its associates, and of arbitrarily\nsubjecting separate classes or individuals to exceptional treatment.\nEven, therefore, if a law to such monstrous effect were enacted, it\ncould have no morally binding force. It would be no one's duty to\nacquiesce in it.\n\nI will not here stop to dispute, though I am not sure that I could\nwithout some slight reservation admit, that the receipt of unasked-for\nbenefits places the recipient under precisely the same obligation to\nbenefit his benefactor, as if the good received by him had been\nconferred on express condition of his availing himself of the first\nopportunity to render equal good. I will not stop to dispute, for\ninstance, that a person saved from drowning at the risk of his own\nrescuer's life, would be bound, on occasion arising, to risk his own\nlife in order to save his former rescuer's. For my immediate purpose, it\nmay suffice to remark that society has never been in the habit of\nshowing such parental solicitude for its component members as would\nwarrant its claiming filial devotion from them. In the matter of\nphilanthropy its practice has never been in advance of its very moderate\nprofessions. It has invariably contented itself with rendering certain\nspecific services, never failing to exact in return fully equivalent\nservices of each species.\n\nIn candour, however, there must be admitted to be innumerable blessings\nnot yet adverted to, including indeed most of those by the possession of\nwhich man is distinguished from brutes, for which he is in so far\nindebted to society that, but for the instrumentality of society, they\nwould never have been his. Unless individuals had formed themselves into\ncommunities, civilization could have made no sensible progress: there\ncould have been no considerable advances, material, intellectual, moral,\nor aesthetic. Not only should we have been destitute of all the comforts\nand luxuries that now surround us, we should have lacked also whatever\ncerebral development we have attained, together with all its\nconcomitants and consequences; whatever of intelligence, or moral\nperceptiveness, or artistic taste we have to boast of. Still, though\nnone of these faculties could have made much approach to maturity except\nunder the shelter of society, they are not gifts of society. Without the\nhelp of a plough, land cannot be ploughed; but we do not therefore\ncredit the ploughmaker with the achievements of the ploughman. Neither\nis society to take to itself praise because its members have made good\nuse of the protection which, in consideration of stipulated services on\ntheir part, it has afforded them. Besides, whatever we inherit from\nsociety, we inherit from a society of members no longer in being. Let\nthe dead come to life again, and it may then become us to examine their\nclaims upon our gratitude, but we need not meanwhile confound past and\npresent generations, nor our forefathers with our contemporaries. To the\nmass of these latter, at any rate, we are none of us indebted for our\nbrains or our aptitudes of thought and feeling, and the circumstance of\nour being joint sharers with them in patrimony bequeathed by a common\nancestry, affords no very obvious reason why our share of the\ninheritance, together with whatever else we possess, should be at their\nabsolute disposal.\n\nThus it appears that in no one of the ways in which alone can\noriginate the obligations which must always precede or accompany\nartificially-created rights, has that particular obligation arisen\nwithout which it is impossible for society to obtain artificially the\nright of preventing individuals from doing as they will with their own.\nNo sufficient pledge has been given by one side, no sufficient benefit\nconferred by the other. Individuals never agreed to place their all at\nthe disposal of society; society never rendered to individuals any\nservices entitling it to claim such boundless gratitude. One service\nwhich it invariably undertakes is that of protecting person and\nproperty. This is its chief and primary duty, the fulfilment of which is\nalways the first object of its institution, often the only one it\nacknowledges. But clearly it cannot by performance of a duty acquire the\nright of doing the exact reverse of that duty. It cannot by protecting\nacquire the right of molesting. It cannot by preventing person and\nproperty from being meddled with, acquire in its corporate capacity the\nright of itself meddling. Since then this right of meddling, this right\nof disposing of what is exclusively some individual's own, otherwise\nthan the owner wishes, has not been acquired by society artificially, it\nmust, if it do actually belong to society, have been come by naturally;\nand this accordingly is what Utilitarians really, though perhaps\nunconsciously, assume, treating moreover this gratuitous assumption of\ntheirs as a self-evident truth.\n\nFor, as Utilitarians themselves cannot fail on reflection to perceive,\nthey offer no shadow of argument in support of that 'greatest happiness\nprinciple' on which their whole system rests. Commencing with the\nundeniable postulate that happiness is the sole object of existence, and\nperceiving that individual happiness alone would be a very misleading\nobject, they proceed to take quietly for granted that the only happiness\nat which life ought to aim is social happiness. Now, undoubtedly social\nhappiness is of more importance than individual happiness--the happiness\nof many than that of one or a few; neither can there be any worthier\nobject of pursuit than the greatest happiness of the greatest number.\nAll this is seen without being said, but what is by no means so easily\nseen is how it can be incumbent on any one to pursue that object to his\nown detriment--how it can be imperative on one or on a few to sacrifice\nhis or their happiness in order to promote that of the many. Plainly\nsuch self-devotion cannot be for their personal advantage, and\nUtilitarianism does not even attempt to show how it can have become\ntheir duty. Meritorious, magnanimous, heroic in the highest degree it\nwould certainly be, but does not that very circumstance prove\nconclusively that it cannot be due, inasmuch as there is nothing\nmeritorious in merely doing one's duty and paying one's debts? But of\nthat which is not due, how can payment be rightfully insisted upon? What\nthe few are under no obligation to yield, how can the many be entitled\nto extort, or how can the worthiness of the latter's object excuse their\ndoing that which they have no right to do? Is any object, however\nworthy, to be pursued regardless of all collateral considerations? To\nthese objections Utilitarians have no answer to make. All they can do is\ntacitly to take for granted the disputed duty and right. That the less\nought to give way to the greater, and the few to the many, and that the\nmany may rightfully therefore, if need be, use force to compel the less\nor the few to give way--these are treated by them as incontestable\npropositions, even as 'doctrines _a priori_, claiming assent by their\nown light, evident by simple intuition.' And although thus from their\nown inner consciousness evolving the very first principles of their own\nphilosophy, the premises of their deduction that social happiness is the\nproper aim in life, and that conduciveness to such happiness is the test\nof morality--'Intuitionists,' strange to say, is the distinctive\nappellation which they propose to affix to all those who hesitate to\naccept as ethical foundation stones the results of their intuitional\nevolution.\n\nScarcely by a taunt so readily rebuttable will anti-Utilitarians be\nexcited to speedier apprehension of the nature of the lien which\ncorporate self-interest is presumed to have upon individual\nself-devotion. Not the less tenaciously may they cling to their belief\nin the right of every one to do as he will with whatever has come by\nfair means into his exclusive and complete possession. Neither, I\nventure to think, need less store be set by that right in consequence of\nan objection very adroitly taken to it by Mr. Mill, which, on account\nboth of its inherent ingenuity and of its having been addressed more\nimmediately to myself, it would be inexcusable in me to leave\nunexamined. In Mr. Mill's opinion, the right in question, even if valid,\nwould be valueless, because it would be neutralised by precisely similar\nrights belonging to society. If, he argues, individuals are at liberty\nto do as they will with their own, so likewise must society be. But\n'existing social arrangements and law itself exist in virtue not only of\nthe forbearance, but of the active support of the labouring classes' who\nin every community constitute a numerical majority. This working-class\nmajority might then if they pleased withdraw their support from existing\narrangements, thereby depriving person and property of social\nprotection; and by merely threatening such withdrawal they could compel\nindividuals to acquiesce in their most extravagant demands. 'They might\nbind the rich to take the whole burden of taxation upon themselves. They\nmight bind them to give employment, at liberal wages, to a number of\nlabourers in a direct ratio to the amount of their incomes. They might\nenforce on them a total abolition of inheritance and bequest.' Mr. Mill\nmaintains that these things, although exceedingly foolish, might\naccording to my principles, with perfect equity be done; nay, if I\nunderstand him correctly, that according neither to mine nor to any one\nelse's principles can any adequate reason be assigned why they should\nnot be done, except that their practical results would be baneful\ninstead of beneficial. And taking this view, he is fully warranted in\nasking what it can matter that according to my theory 'an employer does\nno wrong in making the use he does of his capital, if the same theory\nwould justify the employed in compelling him by law to make a different\nuse--if the labourers would in no way infringe the definition of justice\nby taking the matter into their own hands and establishing by law any\nmodification of the rights of property which in their opinion would\nincrease the remuneration of their labour.'[8]\n\nMy reply to this and to the whole argument is the following. So long as\nsociety continues to exist, society cannot divest itself of the primary\nfunction for the discharge of which it was originally constituted.\nSociety, having come together in the first instance, tacitly pledged to\nextend protection to each individual associate, cannot, without breach\nof contract, withdraw that protection. It may, indeed, make any\nimpartial laws it pleases, and attach any penalty it pleases to\nviolation of any impartial law, but it cannot in equity, whatever it may\nin practice, place any of its members outside the law; neither, most\ncertainly, even if its competence did extend thus far, could it go the\nfarther length of conferring on any one the right of doing wrong to an\noutlaw. It may even be doubted whether, if an outlaw were to injure any\none still belonging to the society, any but the injured person himself\nwould be warranted in retaliating. The sole reason that I can perceive\nwhy even he would is, that his rights had been infringed, and that\nreparation was due to him for any damage sustained by him in\nconsequence, while, on the other hand, the aggressor had forfeited those\nrights of his which might otherwise have forbidden the injured person\nfrom taking the reparation due. But society had had none of its rights\ninfringed. By society no injury had been sustained. To society,\ntherefore, no reparation was due; and society, it seems to me, would\nhave no right to insist on exacting reparation not due to itself from\none whom it had forcibly extruded from its communion, and who,\ntherefore, was no longer amenable to its jurisdiction. Society might,\nindeed, dissolve itself, proclaiming that 'every man for himself, and\nGod for all,' should thenceforward be the rule. But although it might\nthus leave individual rights without other defence than that of the\nowner, it could not annihilate individual rights. It might cancel the\nright to mutual protection, but it could not, in place of that, create a\nright of mutual molestation. One's own person and property would still\nbe as much one's own as before, and whoever outraged either would not be\nthe less a wrong doer because society permitted his wrong doing to\nremain unpunished. In all ethical investigations it is impossible to\nguard too watchfully against the smallest approach to confusion of might\nwith right.\n\nInstead of being valueless, the particular rights of which Mr. Mill\nspeaks so disparagingly, appear to me to possess a value which can\nscarcely be exaggerated. They are, as may be readily perceived,\nidentical with the two which I have termed 'natural,' and of which I\nbegan by saying that they are exceedingly elementary, but of which I\nhave now to add that they are also all-comprehensive, for that there are\nno genuine rights whatever, however numerous or complex, which neither\nare included within, nor branch out from, them. This will be manifest on\ncomparison of them with the items enumerated in any other catalogue of\nrights; as, for instance, with the one drawn up by Mr. Mill, according\nto whom all rights may be classified as follows:--(1) Legal rights; (2)\nmoral rights; (3) the right of every one to that which he deserves; (4)\nthe right to fulfilment of engagements; (5) right to impartiality of\ntreatment; (6) right to equality of treatment.[9] Each of these\nvarieties will repay a brief examination.\n\nUnder the head of 'legal' rights are commonly placed, not those only\nwhich are conferred, but those also which are confirmed, by law. Such as\nlaw has merely confirmed, however, are of course not the creatures of\nlaw. But it is admitted on all hands that a law may be unjust--that is\nto say, it may without consent from the parties concerned, infringe some\npreviously existing right--and as the right so violated cannot have been\ncreated by law, inasmuch as what law had been competent to create, law\nwould be equally competent to cancel--it is clear that there must be\nrights other than those created by law, rights whose origin was\nindependent of, and anterior to, law. It is apparently to rights of this\ndescription that Mr. Mill applies the name of 'moral' rights. Examples\nof them are a man's rights to personal liberty and to property in\nwhatever belongs to him as having become his by honest means, to both of\nwhich, unless he had forfeited them by misconduct, he would be equally\nentitled, whether his title to them were or were not recognised by law.\nThe only genuine rights which law can create, or consequently can have\nto confer, are privileges in respect of person or property other than\none's own. But such legalised privileges are not necessarily rights.\nWhether they are so actually or not depends mainly on the character of\nthe legislative authority. A right to interfere with rights not based\nupon law cannot be conferred without the consent of the parties in whom\nthe independent rights are vested, given either directly by themselves\nor indirectly through their representatives. If a legislative body be\ntruly and thoroughly representative of the community which it controls,\nthen every one of its enactments, however bad or foolish, is virtually\nan engagement to which every member of the community is a party, and any\nprivilege arising out of it becomes to all intents and purposes a right.\nIf, on the other hand, the legislative authority be autocratic, or if it\nrepresent only certain favoured sections of the community, then none of\nits enactments, however wise and good, of which a majority of the public\ndisapprove, and which interfere with the rights termed by Mr. Mill\n'moral,' are morally binding, except on the legislators themselves and\ntheir immediate constituents. Any one else may quite blamelessly break\nthe law, and resist any privilege thereby created, though he must, of\ncourse, be prepared, in case of detection, to take the legal\nconsequences of his disobedience. For example, protective duties,\nhowever impolitic, if imposed because a majority of the nation were of\nopinion that a certain branch of domestic industry had better be\nfostered by protection, could not be evaded without injustice to those\nengaged in the protected industry, though there would be no injustice in\nsmuggling, if they had been imposed in opposition to the general sense\nof the public by a packed Parliament or an absolute monarch. The same\nlegal monopoly, which in the one case could not be justly evaded, could\nnot in the other be justly enforced. A legal privilege, in short,\nbecomes a right only when a majority of those at whose expense it is to\nbe exercised, have formally consented either directly or indirectly to\nits being exercised; and it then becomes a right solely because an\nengagement has been entered into, in virtue of which, whatever is\nrequisite for its satisfaction has become due. Thus it appears that,\nwhatever legal rights are genuine, and are not at the same time 'moral'\nrights also, resolve themselves into specimens of the right to\nfulfilment of engagements, and belong not more to the first than to the\nfourth of Mr. Mill's categories, to which latter, therefore, we may at\nonce transfer our attention.\n\nWhy is it, then, that every one has a right to fulfilment of\nengagements, to have faith kept with him, to have promises observed?\nSolely, as it seems to me, because whatever has been promised to any one\nbecomes eventually his due, and because whatever is due or owing ought\nto be paid. A promise is nothing less than a prospective transfer of\nproperty in some thing, or in the advantage derivable from some action,\nand when the time appointed for making the transfer arrives, whatever\nhas been promised, whether actually transferred or not, becomes the\ncomplete property of, and in the fullest sense of the word belongs to\nhim to whom it has been promised; so that the right to fulfilment of\nengagements resolves itself into the moral right of every one to have\nthat which belongs to him, and we have already seen that every legal\nright which cannot on other grounds be shown to be a moral right\nresolves itself into a right to fulfilment of an engagement. Whence it\nfollows that there are no legal rights whatever which are not likewise\nmoral rights, and which might not therefore be equally rights, even\nthough they had never been legalised. Whence, and from what has just\nbeen observed with respect to the right to fulfilment of engagements, it\nfurther follows that of the five branches of Mr. Mill's classification,\nthe first and fourth may without inconvenience be dispensed with, and\nthat the second will suffice to do duty for itself and for the other\ntwo.\n\nWe have next to consider a person's right to that which he deserves,\nwith reference to which, and to my assertion that there is no necessary\ncorrespondence between the remuneration which a labourer ought to\nreceive and either his merits or his needs, Mr. Mill inquires as\nfollows:--'If justice be an affair of intuition, if we are guided to it\nby the immediate and spontaneous perceptions of the moral sense, what\ndoctrines of justice are there on which the human race would more\ninstantaneously and with one accord put the stamp of its recognition\nthan these--that it is just that each should have what he deserves, and\nthat, in the dispensation of good things, those whose wants are the most\nurgent should have the preference?' But surely however just it be that\neach should have what he deserves, it is so only on condition that he\nhave it from those from whom it is due, and do not take it from those\nfrom whom it is not due. The latter, surely, at least as much deserve to\nbe allowed to keep what they have already by honest means got, as others\nto get what they have not yet got. But if so, then that these should be\ndeprived of their deserts, in order that those may get theirs, is surely\nabout the very last doctrine that ought to be put forward as\nself-evident and intuitive. 'But,' Mr. Mill proceeds to ask, 'if there\nbe in the natural constitution of things something patently unjust,\nsomething contrary to sentiments of justice, which sentiments, being\nintuitive, are supposed to have been implanted in us by the same Creator\nwho made the order of things that they protest against--do not these\nsentiments impose upon us the duty of striving by all human means to\nrepair the injustice? And if, on the contrary, we avail ourselves of it\nfor our own personal advantage, do we not make ourselves participators\nin injustice, allies and auxiliaries of the Evil Principle?'[10] Now, as\nI have already said, I am myself no intuitionist, but if I were, I\nshould not the less feel warranted in here replying that by no theory of\njustice, intuitive or other, can the passive spectator of an injustice\nto which he is no party be bound to assist in repairing the injustice,\nsimply because he has the means. A creditor denied payment of his fair\ndebts does not get what he deserves; but upon whom, except the\ndefaulting debtor, does it therefore become incumbent to repair the\nlatter's injustice by paying his debts? And if there be in the general\norder of mundane affairs, as--provided I may attribute the existence of\nit, as of all other evil, not to God, but to the devil--I don't mind\nadmitting there may be--something which prevents many of our\nfellow-creatures from getting their desserts, something contrary,\ntherefore, to our sentiments of justice whether those sentiments have\nbeen implanted in us by the Creator or not, I still maintain that those\nsentiments do not impose upon us the duty of striving to correct the\ninjustice. They necessarily stimulate us more or less powerfully,\naccording to their own intrinsic strength, to undertake that noblest of\nall tasks, but they do not render it imperative upon us. Whether, if we\nactively avail ourselves of the injustice for our own profit--though\nthis, by the way, is no more than every one of us does who takes\nadvantage of competition among labourers to obtain labour for a less\nprice than he perceives it to be worth--we are not making ourselves\nauxiliaries of the Evil Principle, may be matter of opinion; but, at all\nevents, we do not even then become participators in an injustice which\nwe did not create, and do not uphold or help to perpetuate, but merely\naccommodate ourselves to. At worst, we are but accessories to it after\nthe fact. In simply accepting the situation and striving to make the\nbest of it for ourselves, without trying to make it better and only\nabstaining from making it worse for others, our conduct may be\ncontemptible, mean, base, disgusting, or what you will, only not\niniquitous; for whatever, short of their deserts, may, from the cause\nsupposed, be received by our fellow-creatures, although in one sense\nplainly due to them, is as plainly not due from us, and we cannot,\nwithout palpable injustice, as well as palpable abuse of words, be\ncharged with injustice for merely declining to pay debts that we do not\nowe.\n\nThe rights to impartial and to equal treatment need not detain us long.\nThere is no right to impartiality except where impartiality is due, and\nit is only in a small minority of cases that impartiality is due. There\nis nothing iniquitous in showing favour to the extent of giving one\nperson more than his due, provided no other person be prevented from\nhaving as much as his due. The lord of the vineyard who gave unto all\nhis labourers alike, the same to those who had wrought for him but one\nhour as to those with whom he had agreed that for a penny they should\nbear the burden and heat of the day, did the latter no wrong; his eye\nwas not the less good because theirs was evil. A judge, or an\narbitrator, or the conductor of a competitive examination, is bound to\nmake his award without respect of persons, because he cannot favour one\nwithout withholding from some other what that other ought to have. On\nevery distributor of Government patronage, likewise, it is morally\nincumbent to select for the public for whom he is trustee, the best\nservants he can find. An English Prime Minister has no right to make his\nson a Lord of the Treasury or of the Admiralty, if he know of any one\nbetter fitted for the post and willing to accept it; and if he name any\nbut the fittest candidate, he fails in his duty to the community on\nwhose behalf he acts. But a private employer, acting for himself alone,\nis under no similar obligation, and may take whom he pleases into his\nservice, and assign to him whatever position therein he pleases, without\naffording any cause for reasonable complaint to those more capable\nmembers of his establishment whom he places under one less capable. In\nshort, except in those rare cases in which impartiality means rendering\nwhat is due, in which cases it is but another name for justice, there is\nnothing unjust in disregarding it.\n\nAs for equality, although its 'idea,' as Mr. Mill says, 'often enters as\na component part both into the conception and into the practice of\njustice, and in the eyes of many persons constitutes its essence,'[11] I\ncan think of no single case in which, unless by reason of some special\nagreement, it can possibly be due, or in which, consequently, there can\nbe any right to it. Even that equal protection for whatever is\nindisputably one's own, the claim of all to which is commonly admitted\nalmost as a matter of course, is really due from those only by whom the\nobligation to afford it has been tacitly or formally accepted. On this\nground it is due from the public at large, and from those individuals to\nwhom the public has delegated certain of its tutelary functions, but\nfrom no other individuals whatever. No one else is bound to take, for\nthe protection of all other people, whatever pains or trouble he takes\nfor his own security--to watch, for instance, as vigilantly that his\nneighbour's house as that his own is not broken into. And while the one\nsolitary claim of any plausibility to universal equality of treatment\nrequires to be largely qualified before it can be conceded, there is no\nother claim of the kind which does not carry with it its own refutation;\nthere is no other which does not partake of the absurdity patent in the\ncommunistic notion that all the members of a society are entitled to\nshare equally in the aggregate produce of the society's labour. How is\nit possible that an equal share can be everybody's due, if different\npersons may have different deserts, and everyone's deserts be likewise\nhis due?\n\nWe have now gone completely through the list of artificially created\nrights, without finding one that does not derive all its validity from\nconnection with some pre-existing right. We have seen that among\nso-called rights none whatever are genuine by reason merely of any\nextrinsic sanction they may have received, but that all real rights\neither are such intrinsically, or are based upon, or embody within them,\nsome right purely intrinsic. We have seen that there are two rights\nendued with this intrinsic character--viz., that of absolute control\nover one's own self or person, and that of similar control over whatever\nelse has by honest means come into one's exclusive possession, or become\ndue or owing to him exclusively; and, because these rights, wherever the\nconditions necessary for their exercise occur, of necessity exist,\nspringing up at once and full grown, in the necessary absence of any\nantagonistic rights that could prevent their existing, I have not\nscrupled to call them 'natural;' nor do I think that further apology can\nbe needed for such application of the epithet. To maintain, moreover,\nthat these natural rights constitute the essence of all artificial\nrights, was simply equivalent to saying that no so-called right can be\ngenuine unless requiring for its satisfaction no more than already\nactually belongs or is due to its claimant; while every right which does\nrequire no more must be genuine, because there can nowhere exist the\nright to withdraw or to withhold from any one anything that is\nexclusively his. These seeming truisms are indeed diametrically opposed\nto a theory which enters on its list of friends names no less\nillustrious than those of Plato, Sir Thomas More, Bentham, and Mill.\nStill, whoever, undeterred by so formidable an array of adverse\nauthorities, is prepared to accept the description of rights of which\nthey form part, will have no difficulty in framing a theory of justice\nperfectly conformable thereunto.\n\nThe justice of an action consists in its being one, abstinence from\nwhich is due to nobody. The justice of inaction--for just or unjust\nbehaviour may be either active or passive--consists in there being\nnobody to whom action, the reverse of the inaction, is due. 'Justice,\nlike many other moral attributes, may be best defined by its opposite,'\nand all examples of injustice have this one point in common, that they\nwithhold or withdraw from some person something belonging or due to him,\nor in some other way infringe his rights, and consequently wrong him.\nConversely, a point common to and characteristic of all just acts and\nomissions, is that they neither prevent anybody from having that which\nis due to him, nor in any other way infringe any one's rights, and that\nthey consequently do no one any wrong. It is not essential to the\njustice of conduct that anything due be thereby rendered. It suffices\nthat nothing due be withheld. All conduct is just by which nobody is\nwronged.\n\nIt is further to be noted that all just conduct is of one of three\nkinds--that which justice peremptorily exacts; that which she merely\npermits, and may even be said barely to tolerate; and that which she\napproves of and applauds, without, however, presuming to enjoin it.\nConduct of this last sort is just in that it leaves nothing undone which\njustice requires, but it is also more than just in that it does more\nthan justice requires. To speak of it as simply just, is therefore\nsomewhat disparaging. It is just in the sense in which the less is\ncomprehended by the greater. He who faithfully fulfils an engagement\nthat has provided for his making a reasonable return for whatever\nadvantage he might obtain under it, shows himself simply just in the\nmatter, and nothing either more or less. He who, having driven a hard\nbargain, insists rigorously upon it, giving nothing less, and taking\nnothing more than had been mutually stipulated, is likewise strictly\njust, but is also shabby, and deserves to be told so plainly. He who,\nbesides making full return, according to contract, for value received,\ndoes something more, at some inconvenience to himself, out of regard for\nanother's need, is not a whit more just than either of the other two,\nbut he is generous into the bargain, and deserves thanks in proportion.\n\nRising out of these considerations are two others equally meriting\nattention.\n\nIn the first place, we may see additional cause for distrusting the\ntestimony which etymology has been supposed to record in favour of 'an\norigin of justice connected with the ordinances of law.'[12] That\n'_justum_ is a form of _jussum_, that which has been ordered:' that\n'[Greek: dikaion] comes directly from [Greek: dike], a suit of law:'\nthat '_recht_, from which came right and righteous, is synonymous with\nlaw,' is obvious enough; and it may not be out of place to add that in\nFrench the word _droit_ has, with almost savage irony, been selected as\nthe technical name, not of law simply, but of legal procedure with all\nits crookedness.[13] Still it seems more in the ordinary course of\nthings to explain this linguistic identification of law with justice, by\nsupposing conformity to justice to have been the primitive element in\nthe formation of the notion of law, than by supposing 'conformity to law\nto have been the primitive element in the formation of the notion of\njustice.' It seems more probable that certain things were commanded\nbecause they were deemed just, than that they were deemed just because\nthey were commanded. Even the ancient Hebrews, who 'believed their laws\nto be a direct emanation from the Supreme Being,' although, if asked why\nit was wrong to kill or steal, they might very likely have replied,\n'Because theft and murder have been forbidden by God,' would still have\nacknowledged that it would be wrong to kill or steal, even if there had\nbeen no divine prohibition of the practices. And when we recollect that\namong 'other nations, and in particular the Greeks and Romans, who,\nknowing that their laws had been made by men, were not afraid to admit\nthat men might make bad laws, ... the sentiment of justice came to be\nattached, not to all violations of law, but only to violations of such\nlaws as ought to exist,' what had previously appeared probable is\nconverted into certainty. Principles of justice to which law ought to\nconform cannot but have been anterior to law, and cannot have originated\nin law. And certainty on this point grows still more certain, assurance\nbecomes doubly sure, when we reflect that, as was pointed out above,\nmany things are just which, not only does not law command, but which\njustice barely tolerates, permitting them, indeed, to be done, but\npermitting them also to be reprobated.\n\nSecondly, we may perceive that in mere justice there can be nothing\npraiseworthy. Justice is nothing more than abstinence from injustice,\nand no commendation can be due for not doing that the doing of which\nwould deserve censure. Justice, if entitled to be ranked among the\nvirtues at all, is at best only a negative virtue, as being the reverse\nof a vice. It is distinguished from all other moral qualities, as being\nthe single and solitary one, compliance with whose behests is a duty\nwhich we owe to others. Of meekness, patience, temperance, fortitude,\ncourtesy, whatever display it may for any reason be our duty to make,\nprecisely that display justice requires us to make. Whatever of any one\nof these qualities justice does not exact from us, we may, without\nwronging any one, omit. We must not, indeed, incapacitate ourselves by\ntippling for our proper work, nor offend the eyes or ears of decenter\nfolk by reeling obstreperously through the streets; but, if we take the\nprecaution of retiring during an interval of leisure to our privy\nchamber, our making beasts of ourselves then and there to our heart's\ncontent, is our own concern, and nobody else's. No doubt, in doing this\nwe should be doing very wrong, but still there is no contradiction in\nsaying that we should have perfect right to do it, inasmuch as we should\nthereby be wronging no one but ourselves. Of another class of\nvirtues--of all those which admit of being directly contrasted with\njustice, and which may for shortness' sake be without much inaccuracy\ncomprehended under the general designation of generosity--it may, with\nliteral truth, be said that the practice of them is no part of our duty\nto our neighbour. Provided we are careful to let every one have what,\nbetween him and us, are his bare dues, we may be selfish, mean, sordid\nto excess, without infringing any one else's rights, without the\nsmallest dereliction of our duty to others. True, ethical writers are in\nthe habit of speaking of 'duties of perfect and imperfect obligation,'\nbut of these 'ill-chosen expressions,' as Mr. Mill,[14] with abundant\nreason, styles them, the latter, more particularly, is of a slovenliness\nwhich ought to have prevented its being used by any 'philosophic\njurists.' What some of these mean by it is stated to be 'duties in\nwhich, though the act is obligatory, the particular occasions of\nperforming it are left to our choice; as in the case of charity or\nbeneficence, which we are indeed bound to practise, but not towards any\ndefined person, or at any prescribed time.' But, according to this\nexplanation, there are duties of which performance may not only be\nindefinitely postponed, even until a morrow that may never come, but of\nwhich performance at one time will warrant non-performance of them\nsubsequently; so that, for instance, he who has behaved charitably on\npast occasions, may be uncharitable afterwards. 'In the more precise\nlanguage' of other writers, we are told that while 'duties of perfect\nobligation are those duties in virtue of which a correlative right\nresides in some person or persons, duties of imperfect obligation are\nthose which do not give birth to any right.' But, as where there is no\nright nothing can be due, it would seem from this that by duties of\nimperfect obligation are to be understood duties performance of which is\nnot due. I hope to be pardoned for declining to accept these illusive\ndistinctions as the boundaries which separate justice from the other\ncomponents of morality. I neither understand how any obligation can be\notherwise than perfect, nor do I recognise any duties whatever except\nthose of justice. The main distinction between justice and all positive\nvirtues I take to be that, whereas compliance with its behests is always\nimperative, compliance with theirs never is, but is always optional and\ndiscretionary. Of whatsoever is, for whatsoever reason, due, it is\ninvariably justice, and justice alone, that demands payment or\nperformance. Justice claims, and claims peremptorily, whatever is owing,\nbut never puts forward the smallest pretension to anything that is not\nowing. But since whatever is _owing_ plainly _ought_ to be paid, and\nsince justice never claims anything but what is owing, it is clear that\nthere cannot be any merit in satisfying the claims of justice. Merit is\npossible only in actions which justice does not enjoin, but to which\nsome other virtue exhorts.\n\nFrom the main difference here pointed out, a minor collateral difference\nramifies. Of whatever ought to be paid or done, payment or performance\nmay be righteously enforced. Here I have the satisfaction of proceeding\nfor a few steps side by side with Mr. Mill, although only, I am sorry to\nsay, to part company again immediately. 'It is a part,' he says, 'of the\nnotion of duty in every one of its forms that a person may rightfully\nbe compelled to fulfil it. Duty is a thing which may be _exacted_ from a\nperson as one exacts a debt. Unless we think it may be exacted from him,\nwe do not call it his duty.'[15] Now, since justice never asks for\nanything but what is due, never makes a requisition compliance with\nwhich is not a duty, it follows that all those persons to whom its\nrequisitions are addressed may be rightfully compelled to comply with\nthem, whereas, since what every other virtue requires is always\nsomething not due, compliance with its requisitions is never a duty, and\ncannot, except unrighteously, be enforced. This--viz., the rightfulness\nof using compulsion in aid of justice, as contrasted with the\nwrongfulness of resorting to it in aid of generosity, rather than the\nrightfulness of punishing breaches of the one and not of the other,\nseems to me the 'real turning-point of the distinction' between the two.\nFor gross disregard of generosity, and indeed of any other virtue, may\nrightfully be punished, justice fully sanctioning the punishment\nalthough indicating also the nature of the penalty to be inflicted in\neach case, and restricting it within certain limits. Whoever plays the\ndog in the manger in a manger of his own, or makes an exclusively\nselfish use of his wealth or other advantages, refusing to do good to\nhis neighbour at however little sacrifice on his own part it might be\ndone, is not thereby infringing anybody else's rights, or thereby\nwronging any one else. He is only exercising his own undoubted rights.\nStill he is exercising them in a manner deserving of severe reprobation,\nand which witnesses of his conduct may justly punish by testifying to\nhim the scorn, disgust, or indignation he has excited. It is no more\nthan just that he should have his deserts and receive the punishment\nwhich has become his due. But justice, although permitting him to be\npunished for acting ungenerously, does not sanction his being compelled\nto make a show of acting generously. If his conduct had been unjust\ninstead of simply ungenerous, no punishment would be adequate that did\nnot force him to repair the evil he had done, or to do the good he had\nleft undone. But the most flagrant breach of generosity, neither keeping\nnor taking away anything to which any one has a right, does nothing for\nwhich reparation can be due. It consists simply in a man's making an\nexclusively selfish use of what is exclusively his, and to make such use\nis one of the rights of property. Whoever exercises that odious right is\njustly punished by being shown how hateful we think him, but we must\nnot, on pretence of justice, commit the injustice of depriving him of a\nright which is confessedly his.\n\nIt is not, then, by being rightfully liable to punishment that unjust\ndiffers from ungenerous conduct. The latter also ofttimes deserves and\nincurs punishment. But since there can be no merit in doing that the not\ndoing of which would merit punishment, it may seem that, as in justice\nso likewise in generosity there cannot be anything positively\nmeritorious. Neither in truth would there be if conduct were entitled to\nbe styled generous simply as being the reverse of ungenerous. Generosity\nwould then, like justice, be a virtue in no higher sense than that of\nnot being a vice--a negative virtue if a virtue at all. But an action\ndoes not really deserve to be called generous unless what justice\nrequires be exceeded by it in a degree more than sufficient to prevent\nthe agent from deserving the imputation of meanness, nor even then\nunless the excess have been done from a purer motive than that of the\nhope of praise or other reward. An action is generous only in the\nproportion in which it involves self-sacrifice, voluntarily undergone\nfor the benefit of others, without any view on the agent's part to\nfurther compensation than that derivable from the consciousness of\nmaking other people happy. In such voluntary and disinterested\nself-sacrifice consists the merit which is one chief characteristic of\ngenerosity as of most positive virtue, distinguishing it from justice,\nin which there is never a surrender of anything which one would be\nwarranted in keeping, but merely a rendering of what belongs or is due\nto others. All conduct, not immoral, admits, as already more than once\nintimated, of a tripartite division, into that which may be rightfully\nenforced; that of which, though it be not due nor rightfully enforcible,\nneglect deserves to be and may justly be punished by reproaches; that\nwhich is neither due nor reasonably to be looked for, but which involves\na voluntary surrender for the good of others of some good which one\nmight without reproach keep for oneself. Of this last description is the\nonly conduct in which there is any proper or positive virtue.\n\nSo much and such complex argumentation may not impossibly be deemed a\ngood deal in excess of what is requisite to establish the conclusion to\nwhich it points, and which may be summed up in the following very simple\npropositions:--That, by a person's rights being understood the privilege\nof having or doing whatever no other person has a right to prevent his\nhaving or doing, justice consists of abstinence from conduct that would\ninterfere with that privilege; that justice, therefore, is not dependent\non extrinsic sanction, but arises spontaneously from the nature of\nthings, and may almost indeed be said to spring necessarily from the\nmeaning of words; and that its sole merit is exemption from the demerit\nthat would attach to the withholding or withdrawing from any person\nanything belonging or due to that person. With all possible confidence,\nhowever, in the innate vigour of these propositions, I cannot suppose\nthat they do not require all possible adventitious strengthening to be\nqualified to displace the doctrine to which they are opposed. I proceed,\ntherefore, to test somewhat further the adequacy of the description of\njustice which they involve by confronting it with certain intricate\nproblems, in presence of which the rival utilitarian definition will be\nfound to be hopelessly at fault.\n\nThere are few subjects on which casuists have differed more widely than\nthose of the legitimacy, and the proper measure of punishment. One\nthinks it unjust that anybody should be punished for the sake of example\nto others, or for any purpose except his own amelioration. A second\nreplies that it is only for the sake of other people's good that an\noffender ought to be punished; for that, as for his own good, he himself\nshould be left to decide what that is, and he is pretty sure not to\ndecide that it is punishment. A third pronounces all punishment unjust,\nseeing that a man does not make himself criminal, but is made so by\ncircumstances beyond his control--by his birth, parentage, education,\nand the temptations he meets with. Then, for the apportionment of\npunishment, some persons think there is no principle like that of the\n_lex talionis_--an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. Others that\nthe penalty should be accurately proportioned to the immorality of the\noffence, by whatever standard that immorality be measured. Others,\nagain, that punishment should be limited to the minimum necessary to\ndeter from crime, quite irrespectively of the heinousness of the\nparticular crime punished. Of the first three of these opinions, Mr.\nMill observes that 'they are all extremely plausible, and that so long\nas the question is argued as one of justice simply, without going down\nto the principles that lie under justice, and are the source of its\nauthority, he is unable to see how any one of the reasoners can be\nrefuted. For every one of them builds upon rules of justice confessedly\ntrue--each is triumphant so long as he is not obliged to take into\nconsideration any other maxims of justice than those he has selected,\nbut that as soon as their several maxims are brought face to face, each\ndisputant seems to have as much to say for himself as the others. No one\ncan carry out his own notion of justice without trampling upon another\nequally binding.'[16] This view of the matter, however, can scarcely be\nregarded as satisfactory. If utilitarian notions of justice cannot be\ncarried out without trampling each other down, they plainly should not\nbe suffered to go at large, but should be relegated forthwith to the\nlimbo of oblivion. But right cannot really be opposed to right; justice\ncannot really be inconsistent with itself: it never can be unjust to do\nwhat is just. Anti-utilitarian justice tolerates no such intestine\ndisorder. The sole ground on which she sanctions punishment is the\nindispensableness of punishment for the reparation of injury. Whoever\nhas suffered wrong has been subjected to invasion of some right,\npersonal or proprietary, and is entitled to amends for the outrage;\nwhile the aggressor from whom the amends are due, ought to render them\nbecause he owes them, and because he ought, may, if necessary, be\ncompelled, to render them. By the breach of right which he has\ncommitted, he has forfeited his own corresponding right, which may now\nbe equitably set aside to whatever extent may be requisite for\nreparation of the evil he has done, one essential part of such\nreparation being adequate security against repetition of the wrong. So\nfar as may be necessary for this purpose, punishment may equitably go,\nbut no further. Genuine justice does not permit penal laws of human\nenactment to take into account the abstract turpitude of crime. That she\nreserves for divine cognisance, recollecting that 'Vengeance is mine, I\nwill repay,' saith the Lord. Nor does she permit the smallest\naggravation of punishment for the sake either of the offender's own\nmental improvement, or to discourage others from evil doing; neither, on\nthe other hand, does she recognise any claim to abatement on the plea of\nan offender not having been able to help acting as he did. She would\nnot, indeed, punish with death or with stripes an outrage committed by a\nlunatic or an idiot, partly because an outrage may be really less\noffensive for being committed unwittingly, inasmuch as it does not, at\nany rate, add insult to injury, and also because the corporal\nchastisement of a lunatic or an idiot could afford no reparation to the\nwounded feelings of a healthy mind. But so far as even an idiot or a\nlunatic was capable of making good the evil he had done by rendering\nwhat had in consequence become due, Anti-utilitarianism would require\nhim equally with an erring saint or sage to make it, and equally, too,\nwould subject him to whatever restraint might be deemed not more than\nsufficient to prevent his doing the same evil again. And of course she\ndoes not treat an offender of ordinary intelligence with indulgence\nwhich she would not show even to a lunatic, but exacts inexorably full\nreparation for what he has done, requiring him commonly to pay in kind\nso far as he can, and to make up with his person for any deficiency.\nWithin the limits thus marked out she is well content that, with the one\nobject which alone justifies punishment, other secondary objects with\nwhich justice has no concern, should be combined. She is well content\nthat the same penal measures as are called for in order to compensate\nthe injured party, should also subserve the reform of the criminal, and\nserve as general deterrents from crime. But she protests against the\nnotion that these, or any other objects, can ever excuse the\ninfringement of any ordinance of justice, or of any of even a criminal's\nrights which the criminal has not forfeited by crime. Justice, in short,\nin her penal, as in all her other arrangements, has but to adhere\nclosely to the anti-utilitarian principles of rendering what is due, and\nof taking nothing that is not due, in order to steer clear of all the\ndifficulties by which the ablest and most accomplished Utilitarians\nconfess themselves staggered.\n\nA second greatly vexed question is, 'whether, in a co-operative\nindustrial association, it is just or not that talent or skill should\ngive a title to superior remuneration? On the one side it is argued that\nall who do the best they can deserve equally well; ... that superior\nabilities have already advantages more than enough in the admiration\nthey excite, the personal influence they command, and the internal\nsatisfaction attending them; and that society is bound in justice rather\nto make compensation to the less favoured for this unmerited inequality\nof advantages, than to aggravate it. On the contrary side, that society,\nreceiving more from the more efficient labourer, owes him a larger\nreturn; that a larger share of the joint result being actually his work,\nnot to allow his claim to it is a sort of robbery; that if he is only\nto receive as much as others he can only be required to produce as\nmuch.'[17] 'Between these appeals to conflicting principles of justice,'\nMr. Mill considers it impossible to decide. 'Justice,' he says, 'has in\nthis case two sides to it, which it is impossible to bring into harmony,\nand the two disputants have chosen opposite sides; the one looks to what\nit is just that the individual should receive, the other to what it is\njust that the community should give. Each from his own point of view is\nunanswerable, and any choice between them, on grounds of justice, must\nbe perfectly arbitrary. Social utility alone can decide the\npreference.'[18] The form of justice depicted with this Janus-like\naspect can scarcely be the utilitarian, since, whoever, on utilitarian\ngrounds, selects one of its sides, must perforce, on the same grounds,\nreject the other. Still, it is spoken of as genuine justice, wherefore\nthat there is a justice independent of utility, would seem, after all,\nto be admitted by Utilitarians themselves. It is for them, however, to\ndeal with the dilemma which their own ingenuity has thus devised. My\nonly concern with the two-headed monster they have imagined is to\nprotest against its being mistaken for the one sole species of justice\nwhich Anti-utilitarianism recognises, and which never presents any such\ndouble-faced appearance. In the case before us anti-utilitarian justice\nwould decide with her accustomed ease between the two appellants. What\nshe would look to would simply be that each co-operator should have his\ndue. But how much soever she might declare an inferior workman to\ndeserve for doing his best, she certainly would not allow his deserts to\nextend to participation in the fruits of the toil of those of his\nfellows who had done better than he. His having produced as much as he\nwas able could not render due to him a share in the larger produce of\nothers of superior capacity. Very possibly the superior workmen might\nagree that all should participate equally in the aggregate results of\ntheir joint labour. If so, well and good. For so liberal a concession\nthey would deserve credit, and thanks would be due to them from those in\nwhose favour it was made; but this of itself would be a conclusive\nproof, if any were wanting, that the concession was an act, not of\njustice, but of generosity, not of debt, but of grace.\n\nAgain, what discordance is there not as to the most equitable\nrepartition of taxation! That all should be taxed in equal proportion to\ntheir pecuniary means; that taxation should be a graduated percentage on\nincome, rising as income rose; that all, whether rich or poor, should be\ntaxed alike; that all should pay equal capitation, but unequal\nproperty-tax--these are some out of many divergencies of opinion, and\n'from these confusions' there is, Mr. Mill considers, 'no other mode of\nextrication than the utilitarian.'[19] But if there were really no\nother, there would, in fact, be none at all. For opinions differ\nscarcely less as to the utility, than as to the justice of each\nspecified mode of taxation. There are quite as many persons who think it\nexpedient as who think it equitable that people should be taxed either\nequally, or according to any of the suggested schemes of inequality. All\nthe help that Utilitarianism here affords is, as usual, to leave every\none to judge for himself which plan is the most advisable, and then to\npronounce that to be the only moral plan. Anti-utilitarianism offers\nguidance of a very different sort. It wastes no time in seeking for an\nescape from confusion, for it allows no confusion to exist. It spurns\nequally the idea of different persons being required to pay different\nprices for equal quantities of the same thing, merely because some of\nthem can afford to pay more, and that of their being all required to pay\nthe same price for different quantities, merely because all are equally\nin need of the quantities they respectively obtain. It recognises only\nan imperfect analogy between a club or a mess to which no one need\nsubscribe unless he likes, and a national community to whose funds every\nresident within its territory has no choice but to contribute; and while\nquite content that members of the one should be assessed at any rates to\nwhich they have spontaneously consented, it protests against the\nimposition on members of the other of burdens disproportioned to their\nseveral abilities. It denies that the shilling of a man who has but one\nin the world is of the same value to him because it is his all, as is to\nanother an estate bringing him in 100,000_l._ a year, seeing that, if\nthe former had his pocket picked, he might presently beg, borrow, or\nearn a second coin, whereas if the latter were dispossessed of his\nestate he might live to the age of Methusaleh without acquiring its\nequivalent. It perceives that a rich man, by receiving public protection\nfor his property as well as his person, is relieved from an expense in\nmaintaining private watchmen, which a poor man, with nothing but his\ncarcass to defend, would have as little occasion as ability to incur;\nand it concludes that more being thus in effect given to the rich, more\nis due from him in return, and more, consequently, may be rightfully\nexacted.\n\nWe come, now, to a case that may well give to both Utilitarians and\nAnti-utilitarians pause--with this difference, however, that whereas it\nbrings the former to an everlasting standstill, the latter may, after a\nwhile, go on complacently meditative, at least, if not rejoicing.\n\nThere are certain situations in which justice loses its authority.\n'Thus, to save a life, it may be allowable ... to steal or take by force\nthe necessary food or medicine, or kidnap and compel to officiate the\nonly qualified medical practitioner.'[20] Wherefore, since to steal or\nto kidnap is essentially wrong, it may sometimes be allowable to do\nwrong. Mr. Mill's explanation of the paradox is, that 'there are\nparticular cases in which some other social duty is so important as to\noverrule any one of the general maxims of justice; but that in such\ncases we usually say, not that justice must give way to some other moral\nprinciple, but that what is just in ordinary cases is, by reason of that\nother principle, not just in the particular case.'[21] I submit,\nhowever, that there is no real occasion to resort to any such 'useful\naccommodation of language,' in order to be 'saved from the necessity of\nadmitting that there may be laudable injustice.' Let us never shrink\nfrom looking error in the face, for fear that, after she has slunk away\nabashed, some insoluble mystery may remain behind. It is better, at any\nrate, to be puzzled than deceived. There can be no doubt about theft\nbeing essentially unjust, and no skill in the arrangement of words can\nconvert injustice into justice, or prevent injustice from being wrong.\nBut when, as occasionally happens, the only choice open to us is between\ntwo immoral courses, it is morally incumbent on us to select the less\nimmoral of the two. The wrong we decide upon does not, however, itself\nbecome smaller because it prevents a larger. A sworn bravo, who had\ntaken in advance the wages of assassination, would sin less by breaking\nthan by keeping faith with his employer; but, in either case, would sin.\nAbstinence from murder would not absolve him from the guilt of perjury.\nIf, unless a loaf were stolen, a life would be lost, Anti-utilitarianism\nmight pardon, but would scarcely applaud the theft. At all events it\nwould not, like the rival doctrine in a similar strait, be reduced to\ndouble on itself, declaring that wrong had become right and black white,\nthat the Ethiopian had changed his skin and the leopard his spots. It\nwould still insist as positively as ever that to steal another man's\nbread cannot be just, however benevolent the purpose for which it is\nstolen.\n\nOne more illustration and I have done. Whoever believes as I do in the\nindefeasible sanctity of honestly acquired _moveable_ property, is\nlogically bound to hold equally sacred the rights of bequest and\ninheritance. With whatever is exclusively your own, you may surely do\nanything you please except harm; nor need even harm be excepted if it be\ndone to yourself alone. If, indeed, you go the length of playing ducks\nand drakes with gold pieces, or of lighting cigars with bank-notes, you\nare likely enough to be stopped and placed under restraint as a lunatic,\nbut it is clear that this will be done solely because you are presumed\nnot to understand what you are doing, and not from any question as to\nyour right to do it if you do understand, for there are plenty of things\nfar more objectionable in themselves, only not implying a want of\nsanity, which you will be left perfectly at liberty to do. If you\nchoose, in imitation of Cleopatra, to spoil your fish-sauce by mixing\npowdered pearls with it, or, in imitation of a certain Peruvian\nviceroy, to shoe your carriage horses with silver, no one will dream of\ninterfering with you; any more than of preventing courtesans and other\nfine ladies from befouling their nether limbs by sweeping the dusty road\nwith flounces of Brussels lace; or of preventing members of the Cobden\nClub from gorging themselves annually, at a cost of five guineas per\npaunch, in honour of the prince of practical economists. But property,\nwhich, however great the good it is capable of doing, you are at liberty\nto employ solely for your own hurt, you are, of course, at liberty to\ndestroy, thereby preventing it, at least, from doing any more harm. The\nlesser right of abuse is plainly comprehended in the larger. And of that\nwhich is so absolutely your own that you may, if you please, wantonly\nwaste or destroy it, you may, of course, transfer the ownership, thereby\nconveying to another person all your rights in it, and rendering it as\nunjust to interfere with the new owner's disposal of the property, as it\nwould previously have been to interfere with yours. Moreover, since the\ngift is a purely voluntary act, you may, if you please, without\nimpairing its validity, arrange that it shall begin to take effect from\nsome future date instead of immediately; so that, by naming some date\nsubsequent to your own decease, you will be converting the gift into an\nequally valid bequest. This, I submit, is decisive as to the iniquity of\nany legal limitation of testamentary power. The right of bequest is\ncomprehended within and rests upon the same basis as the right of\npossession, so that, unless it would be just to pass a law depriving all\npersons of any property possessed by them in excess of a given amount,\nit would not be just to deprive them by law of the power of bequeathing\nthe surplus.\n\nThe rights of inheritance obviously coincide precisely with those of\nbequest. Just so much as the testator parts with the legatee obtains.\nWhen the bequest is unconditional, the new owner whom it creates steps\ninto the precise position which the previous owner has vacated. Often,\nhowever, a legacy is qualified by conditions, and, among others, by\nthis, that the property bequeathed shall be held in trust for certain\npurposes. Now, if these purposes be socially noxious, society need not\nhesitate to set aside the will that has provided for them. Quite\njustifiably, society might annul the testamentary endowment of a\nhospital for fleas and lice, such as Bishop Heber, in his Indian tour,\nfound existing at Baroach and at Surat, because those particular insect\npests could scarcely be retained within the walls of their infirmary.\nPerhaps, too, society might be justified in similarly preventing the\nendowment of a hospital for superannuated dogs and cats; whether it\nwould or not depending mainly on the awkward question whether such\ninferior animals have any rights inconsistent with human interests. Be\nthis as it may, however, where human interests alone are concerned, the\nrights of conditional heirship present no ethical difficulty. When it is\nfor purposes socially innocuous and affecting human beings alone that\nproperty is left in trust, it cannot be equitably diverted from those\npurposes without the consent of all the individuals whom the\ntestamentary arrangements were intended to affect. It matters not how\nwhimsical or preposterous the object enjoined may be; not even though it\nbe a periodical dinner, cooked after the manner of the ancients, like\nthe nauseous one at which Peregrine Pickle assisted; or instruction in\nalchemy or in Hindoo astronomy, or in the art of walking on one's head.\nNot until there remain no persons at once entitled under the will, and\nalso wishing to partake of the banquet or the instruction, can one or\nthe other be equitably discontinued? As long as there are any such\npersons left, to stop, without their consent and without adequately\ncompensating them, arrangements, rights in which have been vested in\nthem by bequest, would be as palpable a violation of justice as to pick\ntheir pockets of sums equivalent to their several interests, real or\nsupposed, in the arrangements.\n\nIf scrupulous adherence to the principle thus laid down would heavily\nshackle the activity and seriously impair the immediate usefulness of\nMr. Forster and his coadjutors in the Endowed School Commission, I am\nexceedingly sorry, but not in the least shaken in my conviction that the\nprinciple ought to be rigidly adhered to. If parochial or other\ncommunities are too stupid or too selfish to consent that school\nendowments under their charge shall be applied to purposes of more\nextensive utility than the founders contemplated, every effort should be\nmade to persuade or to shame them into consenting, but without their\nconsent the thing should on no account be done. On this point\nUtilitarianism and Anti-utilitarianism would, I apprehend, give\nidentical counsel, the former condemning as impolitic what the latter\ndenounced as unjust. The cause of national education would be ill served\nby any course calculated to discourage its future endowment by private\ntestators, and nothing would be more likely to have that effect than\narbitrary interference with the endowments of former testators.\n\nThe courteous reader may now be temporarily released, with fitting\nacknowledgment of his exemplary patience. It would be cruel to detain\nhim with a recapitulation, without which he may readily trace for\nhimself, in what has gone before, the outlines of a consistent body of\nanti-utilitarian ethics. In these there is little new, little that has\nnot been anticipated by many an old-fashioned saw and antiquated\napothegm--such as, _Fiat justitia ruat caelum_, 'Be just before you are\ngenerous,' and, I would fain add, 'Honesty is the best policy'--save\nthat to that Utilitarianism may fairly lay equal claim. My modest\nambition throughout this essay has been to vindicate some of the most\nmomentous of primeval truths from the slights to which philosophy--not\nmodern, indeed, but modernised and refurbished--is continually\nsubjecting them, and I will not deny that I have modest assurance enough\nto believe that I have at least partially succeeded. I think I have\nshown that there are such things as abstract right and wrong, resting\nnot on fancied intuition, but on a solidly rational basis, and\nsupporting in turn abstract justice, whose guidance, whoever accepts it,\nwill find to be as sure and as adequate as any that unassisted reason is\ncapable of supplying. Anti-utilitarian justice never tries to look\nhalf-a-dozen different ways at once, never points at the same time in\nopposite directions, never issues contradictory mandates, never halts\nbetween two opinions. Her votaries, like other mortals, may often be in\ndoubt as to accomplished facts; but, provided these be clear, their\ncourse is in general equally clear; there seldom remains aught to\nembarrass them. If they sincerely desire to ascertain what is due from\nthem, they can seldom err, except on the right side, and they will never\ndream of disputing that whatever is due from them it must be their duty\nto do, without respect of consequences. These they will leave to the\nsupreme controller of events, if they believe in one, and will leave to\ntake their chance, if they do not so believe, feeling all the more\ncertain in the latter case that to control events cannot, at any rate,\nbe within their power. They never stop to calculate how much good may\nperhaps ensue if evil be done. Simple arithmetic, apart from faith,\nsatisfies them that to add wrong to wrong cannot possibly augment the\nsum total of right. The prime article of their creed is the absolute\nobligation of paying debts--a piece of unworldly wisdom more than ever\nnow to Jews a stumbling-block, and to Greeks foolishness, but not the\nless to all, whether Jews or Gentiles, who will accept it, a light to\nshow through the mazes of life, a path so plainly marked that the\nfoolishest of wayfaring men cannot greatly err therein.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] The distinction here drawn is not merely verbal. The greatest\nhappiness of the greatest number may mean either the largest total of\nhappiness in which the largest possible number of those concerned can\nparticipate, or a still larger total, which, if some of the possible\nparticipants were excluded, would be divisible among the remainder. The\nlargest aggregate of happiness attainable by any or by all concerned,\nmeans the largest sum total absolutely, without reference to the number\nof participants. Writers on Utilitarianism seem to have sometimes the\nfirst, sometimes the second of these totals in view, but more frequently\nthe second than the first.\n\n[2] I do not form a separate class of pleasures of the affections,\nbecause these seem to me not to be elementary, but to be always\ncompounded of two or more of the other five kinds.\n\n[3] 'On Labour,' p. 135.\n\n[4] 'Fortnightly Review,' June, 1868.\n\n[5] See the No. for June, 1869.\n\n[6] 'On Labour,' p. 93.\n\n[7] 'Fortnightly Review' for June, 1869, p. 683.\n\n[8] See 'Fortnightly Review' for June, 1869, pp. 687-8.\n\n[9] 'Utilitarianism,' by J. S. Mill, pp. 64-8.\n\n[10] 'Fortnightly Review' for June, 1869, pp. 684-5.\n\n[11] 'Utilitarianism,' p. 267.\n\n[12] 'Utilitarianism,' pp. 69, 70.\n\n[13] 'Les legistes leur fournirent au besoin l'appui du droit contre le\ndroit meme.'--De Tocqueville, 'L'Ancien Regime,' p. 567.\n\n[14] 'Utilitarianism,' pp. 72, 73.\n\n[15] 'Utilitarianism,' p. 71.\n\n[16] 'Utilitarianism,' pp. 81, 82.\n\n[17] 'Utilitarianism,' pp. 84, 85.\n\n[18] Ibid. p. 85.\n\n[19] 'Utilitarianism,' pp. 86, 87.\n\n[20] 'Utilitarianism,' p. 94.\n\n[21] Ibid. pp. 94, 95.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n_HISTORY'S SCIENTIFIC PRETENSIONS_.\n\n   _Warwick._ There is a history in all men's lives,\n  Figuring the nature of the times deceased;\n  The which observed, a man may prophesy,\n  With a near aim, of the main chance of things\n  As yet not come to life, which in their seeds,\n  And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.\n  Such things become the hatch and brood of time;\n  And, by the necessary form of this,\n  King Richard might create a perfect guess,\n  That great Northumberland, then false to him,\n  Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness,\n  Which should not find a ground to root upon,\n  Unless on you.\n\n   _King Henry._ Are these things, then, necessities?\n\n  _King Henry IV._ Part II. Act. 3, Sc. I.\n\n\nWhen equally competent thinkers appear to take directly opposite views\nof a matter of purely speculative interest, it will commonly be found\nthat their differences arise from their using the same words in\ndifferent senses, or from their being, by some other cause, prevented\nfrom thoroughly apprehending each other's meaning. An illustration is\nafforded by the controversy regarding the possibility of constructing a\nScience of History, which could scarcely have been so much prolonged if\nall who have taken part in it had begun by defining their terms, had\nagreed to and adhered to the same definitions, and had always kept\nsteadily in view the points really in debate. If the word 'science' had\nbeen used only in the restricted, though rather inaccurate sense in\nwhich it is sometimes employed by some of the most distinguished of the\ndisputants, there would have been less question as to its applicability\nto history. No one doubts that from an extensive historical survey may\nbe drawn large general deductions on which reasonable expectations may\nbe founded. No one denies that the experience of the past may teach\nlessons of political wisdom for the guidance of the future. If it were\nnot so, history would be as uninstructive as fairy lore; its chief use\nwould be to amuse the fancy; and little more practical advantage could\nresult from investigating the causes of the failure of James II.'s\ndesigns on civil and religious liberty, than from an inquiry into the\nartifices by which Jack-the-Giant-killer contrived to escape the maw of\nthe monsters against whom he had pitted himself. What is commonly\nunderstood, however, by a Science of History is something far beyond the\nidea entertained of it by such temperate reasoners as Mr. John Stuart\nMill and Mr. Fitzjames Stephen. The science, for the reality of which M.\nComte in France and Mr. Buckle in England have been the foremost\nchampions, would bear the same relation to political events as Optics\nand Astronomy do to the phenomena of light and of the solar and sidereal\nsystems. It would deal less with the conjectural and probable than with\nthe predicable and positive. 'In the moral as in the physical world,'\nsay its leading advocates, 'are invariable rule, inevitable sequence,\nundeviating regularity,' constituting 'one vast scheme of universal\norder.' 'The actions of men, and therefore of societies, are governed by\nfixed eternal laws,' which 'assign to every man his place in the\nnecessary chain of being,' and 'allow him no choice as to what that\nplace shall be.' One such law is that, 'in a given state of society, a\ncertain number of persons must put an end to their own lives:' another,\nthat a certain number of persons must commit murder; a third, that when\nwages and prices are at certain points, a certain number of marriages\nmust annually take place, 'the number being determined not by the temper\nand wishes of individuals, but by large general facts, over which\nindividuals can exercise no authority.' These are general laws; but the\nspecial question as to who shall commit the crimes or the indiscretion\nenjoined by them, 'depends upon special laws, which, however, in their\ntotal action must obey the large social law to which they are all\nsubordinate.' A Science of History would consist of a collection of\n'social laws,' duly systematised and codified, by the application of\nwhich to given states of society the historical student might predict\nthe future course of political events, with a confidence similar to that\nwith which he could foretell the results of familiar chemical\ncombinations, or the movement of the planets.[22]\n\nThis is the theory which a few years ago was so much discussed, and\nagainst which, notwithstanding the singular fascination it evidently\npossesses for some minds, the moral sense of a much larger number\nindignantly revolts, rightly apprehending that its establishment would\nbe subversive of all morality. For, if the actions of men are governed\nby 'eternal and immutable laws,' men cannot be free agents; and where\nthere is not free agency there cannot be moral responsibility. Nor are\nthe apprehensions entertained on this score to be allayed by the answer,\ningenious as it is, which has been given to them[23] by one of the\nablest and most judicious apologists for the new creed. It is true that\nhuman actions can be said to be 'governed' only in the same metaphorical\nsense as that in which we speak of the laws of nature, which do not\nreally govern anything, but merely describe the invariable order in\nwhich natural phenomena have been observed to occur. It is true that the\ndiscovery of invariable regularity in human affairs, supposing such a\ndiscovery to have been made, would not prove that there was any\nnecessity for such regularity. It is conceivable that the orbs of heaven\nmay be intelligent beings, possessing full power to change or to arrest\ntheir own course, and moving constantly in the same orbits merely\nbecause it pleases them to do so. Invariable regularity, therefore,\nwould be perfectly consistent with free agency. All this is perfectly\njust, but it is also altogether beside the question. The offence given\nby the writers on whose behalf the apology is set up consists not so\nmuch in their asserting that there are, as in their insisting that there\nmust be, uniformity and regularity in human affairs; or, as Mr. Buckle\nexpresses it, that social phenomena 'are the results of large and\ngeneral causes which, working on the aggregate of society, _must_\nproduce certain consequences, without regard to the volition of the\nparticular men of whom the society is composed.' Now, though free agency\nmay co-exist with _invariable_ regularity, it obviously cannot co-exist\nwith _necessary_ regularity, which, consequently, is incompatible\nlikewise with moral responsibility. If men are compelled by the force of\ncircumstances, or by any force, to move only in one direction, they\ncannot be responsible for not moving in a different direction. Nor is it\nmore to the purpose to undertake a subtle analysis of the nature of\ncausation, and to explain that it does not, properly speaking, involve\ncompulsion, but simply means invariable antecedence. Let it be that a\ncannon-ball does not really knock down the wall against which it\nstrikes, and that it would be more correct to say that the ball\nimpinges and the wall falls; though, seeing that the wall would not have\nfallen unless the ball had impinged, the distinction is too nice for\nordinary apprehension. As understood, at any rate, by the joint\nheadmasters of the new school, causation does involve compulsion. 'Men's\nactions,' say they, 'are the product not of their volition, but of their\nantecedents,' and 'result from large and general causes which must\nproduce certain consequences.' Neither, if this be so, is it of any\navail to suggest that, possibly, the large and general causes in\nquestion may be of only temporary operation. 'It may be that the rules,'\nin accordance with which the sun has hitherto risen every morning since\nthe creation of the world, 'will hold good only for a time.' It may be\nthat the springs, whatever they are, by which the universe is kept in\nmotion, may require to be periodically wound up like the works of a\nclock, and that, unless this be done, 'on some particular day out of\nmany billions,' the sun may fail to rise, just as the clock, if suffered\nto run down, would stop on the eighth day. The conjecture would, of\ncourse, be not less applicable to social than to natural laws. It is\nconceivable that the large general causes assumed to regulate human\nactions might lose their efficacy at the end of a certain cycle, when\nmankind might either have to recommence a social revolution similar to\nthe one just completed, or might have to begin an entirely different\nrevolution under entirely different laws. Be it so. Still, if the\ncauses, as long as they remained in operation, possessed a compulsory\ncharacter--if, during the continuance of the supposed cycle, men were\nbound to act in a certain way in accordance with certain laws, and\nirrespectively of their own volition--what would it matter that those\nlaws were not eternal and immutable? For the time being men would no\nmore be free agents than the hands of a clock, while the clock was wound\nup. Both would be constrained to move in a prescribed direction, whether\nthey would or no. Men in such circumstances might well be likened, as by\nMr. Buckle they are likened, to links in a chain, but few would be\nprevented from joining in Mr. Goldwin Smith's eloquent protest against\nthe comparison, by being told that the chain perhaps was not an endless\none.\n\nIt is clear, then, that the principles to which we have been adverting\nwould, if established, be really subversive of morality, inasmuch as\nthey are incompatible with free agency, without which there can be no\nresponsibility. The soundness of a doctrine does not, however, depend\nupon its tendencies; and Mr. Buckle was fully warranted in demanding\nthat his views should be examined with reference, not at all to their\nconsequences, but solely and exclusively to their truth. They certainly\nought to be so examined, if examined at all; but morality is so\nindispensable to the happiness of mankind, that if there were reason for\napprehending it to be based upon error, there would be equal reason for\navoiding an enquiry which might demonstrate the weakness of its\nfoundations, by bringing forward an antagonistic truth. The only\nadequate excuse, therefore, for enquiring, as I now proceed to do, into\nthe validity of Mr. Buckle's theory, is the confidence I feel that it\nwill be found to contain not recondite, newly-discovered truth, but, at\nbest, only skilfully and curiously-compounded fallacies, which, being\ndispelled, will leave the foundations of morality as firm and\nunimpeachable as before.\n\nIn order that he might be able to prove the possibility of a Science of\nHistory, Mr. Buckle asked no more than the following concessions:\n'That, when we perform an action, we perform it in consequence of some\nmotive or motives; that those motives are the results of some\nantecedents, and that therefore, if we were acquainted with the whole of\nthe antecedents and with all the laws of their movements, we could with\nunerring certainty predict the whole of their immediate results.' Now,\nthere is certainly nothing in these demands which may not be\nunhesitatingly conceded. As there can be no effect without a cause, so\nthere can be no action without a motive: the motive or motives of an\naction are the product of all the conditions and circumstances among\nwhich the agent is placed--which conditions and circumstances, again,\nmust have been brought about by antecedent events. The same\ncircumstances would indeed differently affect persons of different\nmental constitutions and characters; but the original constitution of a\nman's mind is itself the product of antecedent events, as is also any\nsubsequent modification of character which it may have undergone. It\ncannot be denied, then, that men's motives are the results of\nantecedents. Equally undeniable is it that a knowledge of all the\nantecedents and of all the laws of their movements would enable us to\nforesee their results, for this, supposing the laws referred to to have\nany real existence, is merely equivalent to the self-evident\nproposition, that if we perceived certain causes and knew exactly how\nthey would act, we should know beforehand what would be their effects.\nBut what if there be no such laws? What if, on the showing of Mr. Buckle\nhimself and of his associates, there neither are nor can be?\n\nThe true nature of a scientific law has never been better explained than\nby the writer already quoted as Mr. Buckle's dexterous apologist. A\nscientific law is not an ordinance, but a record. It simply professes\nto describe the order in which certain phenomena have been observed\nuniformly to recur. It differs from a legislative enactment, in that the\none would be a law although it were never obeyed, whereas the other\nwould cease to be a law if one single exception to its statement could\nbe pointed out. Thus the Act of Parliament enjoining the registration of\nbirths, would be equally a law although no births were ever registered;\nwhereas the law, that in a body moving in consequence of pressure the\nmomentum generated is in proportion to the pressure, would entirely\nforfeit its legal character if, on any one occasion or in any\ncircumstances, momentum were generated in any other proportion. It is\nessential, then, to the existence of a scientific law that there should\nbe uniformity of phenomena. But in human affairs uniformity is\nimpossible. No doubt, in exactly the same circumstances exactly the same\nevents must happen; but exactly the same aggregation of circumstances\ncannot possibly be repeated. Such repetition is inconsistent with the\nvery theory, which is based on the assumption that the repetition is\ncontinually happening.\n\n'In the moral as well as the physical world' there are, say the\nexponents of the new theory, not only 'invariable rule' and 'inevitable\nsequence,' but 'irresistible growth' and 'continual advance.' In other\nwords, things can never be twice in precisely the same condition--never,\nat least, within the same cycle. It has, indeed, been suggested that\nthere may be in human affairs the same sort of regularity as is observed\nby the hands of a clock; and that, as the latter, at the end of every\ntwenty-four hours, recommence the movement which they have just\nconcluded, so at the end of, say 'every ten thousand years,' all the\nsame events which have been happening throughout the period may begin\nto happen over again in the same order as before. Such a succession,\nhowever, would involve quite as much of retrogression as of progression,\nand the continual advance so boastfully spoken of would be nothing else\nthan a tendency of society to return to the condition from which it had\noriginally emerged. But, even on this uncomfortable hypothesis, there\ncould be no regularity of occurrences within the same cycle; no clue as\nto the future could be obtained from investigation of the past. On the\ncontrary, the only certainty would then, as now, be that no combination\nof events which had happened once could happen again, as long as the\nexisting order of things continued. The inference here follows\nnecessarily from the premises. If there be continual advance--if things\nare constantly moving forward--they cannot remain in the same state; and\nif not in the same state, they cannot produce the same effects. For, if\nit be obvious, on the one hand, that precisely the same causes must\ninvariably produce the same results, it is equally evident, on the\nother, that the same results cannot be reproduced except by the same\ncauses. If causes calculated to bring about certain phenomena undergo\neither augmentation or diminution, there must be a corresponding change\nin the phenomena. Now, effects cannot be identical with their causes,\nand, in the moral world, effects once produced become in turn causes,\nacting either independently or in conjunction with pre-existing causes.\nThey become in turn the antecedents spoken of by Mr. Buckle, from which\nspring the motives of human conduct. But, as all such antecedents must\nnecessarily differ from all former antecedents, they must also give rise\nto motives, must be followed by actions, and must bring about\ncombinations of circumstances, differing from any previously\nexperienced. Thus, in human affairs, there can be no recurrence either\nof antecedents or of consequences; and, as a scientific law is simply a\nrecord of the uniform recurrence of consequences, it follows that in\nhuman affairs there can be no scientific laws.\n\nIt will be understood that human conduct, and the circumstances or\ncauses which influence it, are here spoken of in the aggregate. It is\nnot pretended that particular causes or circumstances may not continue\npermanently in operation, though with an influence modified by the\nconcomitance of fresh circumstances; or that they may not continue to\nproduce consequences differing from their former consequences not more\nthan in proportion to the modification undergone by the causes. Still\nless is it pretended that certain human phenomena, with which human\nmotives have little or nothing to do, may not be repeated once and\nagain, notwithstanding the important changes constantly going on in\nevery human society. It is not denied that marriages may continue for\nyears together to bear much the same annual proportion to the\npopulation, provided that during those years there be no material change\nin the amount of the economical obstacles which commonly interfere, more\nthan anything else, with men's natural inclination to marry. Still less\nis it denied that, in a given number of births, the number of girls may\nalways preserve nearly the same superiority over that of boys, or that\nthe proportion between red-haired and flaxen-haired children may\ngenerally be about the same, or that the percentage of letters\nmisdirected in a given country may vary little during long periods. But,\nin the first of these cases, men do not get married, as Mr. Buckle\nimagined, irrespectively of their volition. If, for several years\ntogether, marriages continue to bear about the same proportion to\npopulation, it is because during that period circumstances continue to\npresent a certain amount, and no more, of opposition to men's connubial\nproclivities. In the other cases, it is not at all because the parents\nwish it that a girl is born instead of a boy, or with flaxen hair\ninstead of carrots; neither is it from any motive or intention that\nletters are often misdirected, but, on the contrary, from want of\nthought, and from the carelessness and haste with which letter-writing,\nlike most other human actions, is unfortunately too often performed.\nBut, before assuming that this carelessness and haste bear an invariable\nproportion to numbers, we should inquire whether the proportion of\nmisdirected letters is the same in all human societies--the same, for\ninstance, in France and Spain as in England. If not--if varying\ncircumstances produce different results in this respect in different\ncountries--it may be inferred that a variation of circumstances may\nproduce a difference of result in the same country. It will, at any\nrate, be clear that there is no 'necessary and invariable order' in\nwhich letters are misdirected. In one sense, indeed, it may be said that\nthe proportion of misdirected letters depends upon 'the state of\nsociety,' if by that expression be meant, among other things, the\nnumerical proportion which individuals of different characters and\nhabits bear to each other. In that sense, we may accept some far more\nstartling propositions. We may partly admit that the state of society\ndetermines the number of murders and suicides, if by this be simply\nmeant that the number of murders and suicides committed will depend upon\nthe number of persons whose characters have been so moulded by\ncircumstances as to dispose them to put an end to their own or other\npeople's lives. But Mr. Buckle, by whom the assertion was made, was\ncareful to explain that his meaning was the very reverse of what is here\nsupposed. Speaking of suicide, he declares it to be 'a general law that,\nin a given state of society, a certain number of persons must put an end\nto their own lives;' adding that 'the question as to who shall commit\nthe crime depends upon special laws,' and that 'the individual felon\nonly carries into effect what is a necessary consequence of preceding\ncircumstances.' In other words, it is not the amount of crime that\ndepends upon the number of persons prepared to commit it; it is the\nnumber of criminals which depends upon the amount of crime that must\nneeds be committed. 'Murder,' he elsewhere says, 'is committed with as\nmuch regularity, and bears as uniform a relation to certain known\ncircumstances, as do the movements of the tides and the relations of the\nseasons.' 'The uniform reproduction of crime is more clearly marked, and\nmore capable of being predicted, than are the physical laws connected\nwith the disease and destruction of our bodies. The offences of men are\nthe result not so much of the vices of individual offenders, as of the\nstate of society into which the individuals are thrown.'\n\nThere is here so much looseness and inconsistency of language, that what\nis most offensive in it may easily bear more than one interpretation:\nand the shocking dogma that, in a given state of society, the force of\ncircumstances constrains the commission of a certain amount of crime,\nmay possibly admit of being explained away and softened down into the\ncomparatively harmless proposition that, where all the circumstances,\nconditions or causes required for the commission of a certain amount of\ncrime are present, that amount of crime will certainly be committed. But\nwhat is most provoking in Mr. Buckle is the heedlessness or wantonness\nwith which he is constantly insisting that the causes in question are\nnecessarily present and uniformly acting. What he calls the uniform\nreproduction of crime is likened by him to the uniform recurrence of the\ntides. According to him, it is a law that a certain number of suicides\nshall take place annually, just as it is a law that there shall be high\nand low water twice in every twenty-four hours. Now a law, as the word\nis here used, means a record of invariable repetitions of phenomena. Has\nit been observed, then, that suicides bear, we will not say an\ninvariable, but anything like a definite proportion to population? Mr.\nBuckle thinks it has, and he adduces some facts in support of the\nopinion; but his facts, properly understood, disprove instead of proving\nwhat he asserts; and, even if they proved it, they would yet afford no\nsupport to his main theory.\n\nIn London, for some years past--how many is not stated--about 240\npersons annually have made away with themselves--sometimes a few more,\nsometimes a few less--the highest number having been 266 in 1846, and\nthe lowest 213 in 1849. But, while the number of suicides has thus been\nnearly stationary, population has been anything but stationary in the\nmetropolitan district, but has advanced with vast and unremitting\nstrides at an average rate of nearly 43,000 a year. In 1841 it was\n1,948,369; in 1851, 2,361,640; and in 1861, 2,803,989. The proportion of\nsuicide to population has consequently been by no means uniform, but has\nvaried exceedingly, and on the whole has shown a constant tendency to\ndecrease. But even if it had continued uniform, it would simply have\nshown that, during a certain number of years, the general character of\nLondoners had, in certain particulars, undergone no material change. It\nwould not have proved that the regularity of suicide observable among\nLondoners was in accordance with any general law. To prove this it would\nhave been necessary to show that the proportion had been uniform, not\nonly in the same but in all societies; in Paris as well as in London,\namong the Esquimaux of Labrador, and among the Negroes of Soudan. For,\nif the proportion were found to vary by reason of the differing\ncircumstances of different societies, it would plainly be seen to be at\nleast susceptible of variation in the same society, inasmuch as in no\nsociety do circumstances remain the same from generation to generation.\nSo equally with murders. Even if there were no doubt that the percentage\nof such crimes in England had long continued the same, still that fact\nwould prove nothing as to the uniform reproduction of crime, if it could\nbe shown that the percentage had ever varied anywhere else--in France or\nItaly, for example, or in Dahomey. For it would be mere childishness to\npoint to the different conditions of England and Dahomey, and to plead\nthat no more was intended to be said than that, with uniformity of\ncircumstances there would also be uniformity of results. So much no one,\nin the least competent to discuss the subject, would for a moment dream\nof disputing. But in political affairs there cannot be uniformity of\ncircumstances. The aggregate of circumstances from which spring human\nmotives cannot, from the nature of things, ever be repeated; and, though\na few general causes may continue permanently in operation, they cannot\ncontinue to produce the same identical results; for even though they\ncould themselves remain stationary, it would be impossible that their\noperation should not be affected by the constant change going on around,\nor should not partake of an otherwise universal forward movement. In\npolitical affairs there cannot possibly be any recurrence of identical\nphenomena; nor can there, except within a very limited period, be any\noccurrence of very similar phenomena. But recurrence (and not merely\nrecurrence, but complete and invariable recurrence) is the very\nfoundation of science. Without it there can be no scientific laws, and\nwithout such laws--_i.e._, without records of past recurrences--there\ncan be no sure predictions as to the future. It is only because certain\nmotions of certain bodies have hitherto been observed to take place with\ninvariable regularity, that they are expected to continue to do so, and\nit is upon that assumption only that we venture to predict that the sun\nwill rise to-morrow morning, or that an eclipse will take place next\nyear. But if no event recorded in history has ever yet been known to\noccur twice under precisely the same conditions, and as a consequence of\nthe same causes, what ground can there be for predicting whether or when\nany such event will occur again? What possibility is there of\nconstructing a science of history, when history supplies no materials\nfor either foundation or superstructure?\n\nThere is nothing in this conclusion in the slightest degree opposed to\nthe most approved doctrine of causation. No effect can be without a\ncause. No doubt, then, the regency of invariable causation holds good of\nhuman volitions. No doubt the volitions and consequently the actions of\nmen are the joint results of the external circumstances amid which men\nare placed, and of their own characters; which again are the results of\ncircumstances, natural and artificial. So much must needs be admitted,\nand something more besides. Certain causes will infallibly be succeeded\nby certain effects. From any particular combination of circumstances,\ncertain determinate consequences and no others will result; those again\nwill give rise to consequences equally determinate, and those in turn to\nothers, and so on in an infinite series. It follows, then, from the\nregency of causation, that there is a determinate course already, as it\nwere, traced out, which human events will certainly follow to the end of\ntime; every step of which course, however remote, might now be foreseen\nand predicted by adequate, that is to say by infinite, intelligence.\nInfinite intelligence would do this, however, not by the aid of law, but\nby virtue of its own intrinsic and unassisted strength, wherewith it\nwould perceive how each succeeding combination of causes would operate.\nFor, as cannot be too often repeated, a law is merely a record of\nrecurrences; and in human affairs there can be no recurrences of the\nsame aggregate either of causes or results. There being then no historic\nlaws, there can be no Science of History, for science cannot exist\nwithout laws. The historic prescience, which is an attribute of Infinite\nIntelligence, not being regulated by law, or at any rate not by any law\nexcept that of causation, is not, technically speaking, a science, and\neven if it were, would be utterly beyond the reach of human intellect\nand attainable only by Infinite Wisdom.\n\nThe admission made in the last paragraph has cleared the way for the\nintroduction of a question, from which the subject under discussion\nderives its principal interest, and which it is indispensable therefore\ncarefully, though briefly, to examine. If there be certain determinate\nlines of conduct which men will infallibly pursue throughout all\nsucceeding generations, how can men be free agents? How--for it is\nmerely the old puzzle over again--how can foreknowledge be reconciled\nwith freewill? The difficulty is not to be got rid of by discrediting\nthe reality of freewill, and treating it as a thing for which there is\nno evidence. When Johnson silenced Boswell's chatter with the words,\n'Sir, we know our will is free and there's an end on't,' he expressed a\ngreat truth in language not the less philosophically accurate on account\nof its colloquial curtness. The consciousness possessed by an agent\nabout to perform an act, that he is at liberty to perform it or not, is\nreally conclusive evidence that the act is free. For it matters not a\njot whether consciousness be 'an independent faculty,' or whether--as,\nMr. Buckle reminds us, 'is the opinion of some of the ablest\nthinkers'--it be not merely 'a state or condition of the mind.' If\nconsciousness be a condition of the mind, so also is perception; but\nperception, whatever else it be, is also that which makes us acquainted\nwith external phenomena, just as consciousness is that which makes us\nacquainted with internal emotions. The two informants, it is true, are\nnot equally trustworthy. Perception often deceives us, but\nconsciousness, never. We often fancy we perceive what we do not\nperceive. We may fancy we see a ghost, when we are merely mocked by an\noptical illusion, or we may mistake the impalpable imagery of the Fata\nMorgana for solid objects, or the rumbling of a cart for thunder. But\nconsciousness is infallible. We cannot fancy we experience an emotion\nwhich we do not experience. We cannot fancy we are glad when we are not\nglad, or sorry when we are not sorry, or hopeful when in despair; and to\npretend that we can possibly be conscious of willing when we are not\nwilling, would be as absurd as to meet the _cogito, ergo sum_ of\nDescartes, with the reply that, perhaps, we do not really think, but\nonly think we think.\n\nFreewill, then, being an indisputable reality, how can it be reconciled\nwith foreknowledge? There can be no more conclusive way of showing that\nthe two things are capable of co-existing than to point to an example of\ntheir actual co-existence, and such an example is afforded by the idea\nof Infinite Power. Omnipotence, which by its nature implies freewill,\ncomprehends also Omniscience. Omnipotence can do anything whatsoever\nwhich does not involve a contradiction; but even Omnipotence can do\nnothing which Omniscience does not foresee. It can, indeed, do\nwhatsoever it pleases; but Omniscience foresees precisely what it will\nbe pleased to do. With unbounded liberty to choose any course of action,\nit can yet choose no course which has not been foreseen; but its freedom\nof choice is evidently not affected by the fact that the choice which it\nwill make is known before hand. Neither is that of man. An eager\naspirant to ecclesiastical preferment is not the less at liberty to\nrefuse a proffered mitre, because all his acquaintances have a well\nfounded assurance that he will accept. A wayfarer, with a yawning\nprecipice before his eyes, may or may not, as he pleases, cast himself\ndown headlong. Whether he will do so or not must always have been\npositively foreknown to Omniscience; but that fact in no degree affects\nhis power of deciding for himself. If arguing on the notion that what is\nto be must be, he decide on moving forward to his destruction, then what\nhas been foreseen is simply that he will so argue and be self-deceived,\nand will consequently perish. But the foreknowledge which simply\nperceives what direction will be taken by the will is a very different\nthing from an over-ruling destiny, which should compel the will to take\nsome special direction. Still it is obvious that, in this instance also,\nforeknowledge is based entirely on causation. It is solely because human\nvolitions take place as inevitable effects of antecedent causes that\nOmniscience itself can be conceived as capable of foreseeing them.\n\nBut on such conditions, how can human volitions really be free? How can\nman be really at liberty to will of his good pleasure, if what he is\nprompted to will depends on the influence which the circumstances that\nhappen to surround him may exercise on the constitution and character,\nwhich he has derived from pre-existing circumstances? How can his will\nbe free, if that will be moulded and shaped by circumstances over which\nhe has no control? I have, I am aware, by the mode I have adopted of\nreconciling free-will with foreknowledge, incurred the obligation of\nreconciling it with another co-existence of yet greater apparent\nincompatibility. By admitting that 'human volitions take place as\ninevitable effects of antecedent causes,' that they must be such, and\ncannot be other than such, as antecedent causes make them, I have\nadmitted that the will, though independent of law, is absolutely subject\nto, and _must_ implicitly obey, causes. Freewill, then, must be shown to\nbe compatible not with foreknowledge only, but with necessity also. For\nthere is no use in attempting to ignore necessity; no use in exclaiming\nwith Professor Huxley: 'Fact I know, and Law I know; but what is\nNecessity but an empty shadow of the mind's own throwing?'[24] A shadow\nit most certainly is not, though it is a bugbear, and the veriest that\nwas ever suffered to torment a morbid imagination. It is an indisputable\nreality, a substantial, but at the same time perfectly harmless, or\nrather salutary reality, whose terrors need only to be boldly confronted\nin order to disappear and to transform themselves into highly attractive\nrecommendations. For what, after all, does it imply? What but that\neffects must follow their causes, and causes precede their effects, as\nplainly they must, unless cause and effect be utterly unmeaning\nexpletives. Of course we must on all occasions be affected by\nsurrounding circumstances, in modes exactly accordant with our\nidiosyncracies, moral and physical. Of course, too, our volitions must\nexactly correspond with our contemporaneous affections. When we are\nempty, we must, if in health, feel hungry, and desire to eat; when full,\nwe must, unless we are hogs, be satisfied, and prefer to ruminate. Most\nmen are so organised that when tickled they must laugh; when wronged,\nmust frown or sigh. The sight of distress makes them pity, and desire to\nsee it relieved. That of virtue makes them admire, and desire to see it\nrewarded. That of vice makes them angry, and desire to see it punished.\nWould we have all these things reversed? Would it be well for us that\nour being starved or surfeited should make no difference in our wish to\nfeed, or our willingness to fast? Should we like the chances to be equal\nwhether we should desire distress to be alleviated or aggravated? If\nnot, what is the bondage under which we groan? What the liberty\nwherewith we long to be made free? Our sole grievance is that, according\nto actual arrangements, there must be reasons for our wishes, and that\non those reasons our wishes must depend. Should we then prefer that\nthere were no such reasons? Would we have our wishes to be independent\nof reason, and adrift before irrational caprice? Probably we may, on\nsecond thoughts, be content to forego an enfranchisement like this; but,\nif not, we may at least console ourselves for its indefinite\npostponement, by reflecting that Omnipotence itself is, equally with\nourselves, subject to the sort of necessity under which we are groaning;\nequally destitute of the sort of free-will to which we aspire. It is\nmanifest that, since there cannot be omnipotence without boundless\nliberty, omnipotence must possess completest freedom of will. Yet even\nthe Will of Omnipotence is subject to the despotism of causation. Divine\nperfection cannot but be at all times affected in modes as exactly\ncorresponding with its own excellence as human imperfection is in modes\ncorresponding with its deficiencies, and the movements of the Divine\nMind cannot but correspond with the affections of the Divine Mind. Those\nmovements are not unmeaning, purposeless, wayward. They, too, have their\nappropriate springs, and proceed by regular process from legitimate\ncauses, the chief of those causes being the infinite perfection of the\nDivine Nature. Divine Power cannot then, any more than human, be\ndirected by its owner's will to purposes against which its owner's\nnature revolts. But is this inability a matter to lament over? Those\nmust be greatly at a loss for a grievance who make one of its being\nimpossible for them to will things which they have over-ruling reasons\nfor not willing. Besides, does man, in order to believe himself free,\nrequire more freedom than his Maker? The disciple is not above his\nmaster, nor the servant above his lord. Surely it is sufficient that\nthe disciple be as his master, and the servant as his lord.[25]\n\nThe fact, then, that human conduct is subject to causation, and may by\nadequate intelligence be predicted in its minutest details until the end\nof time, no more proves that it is governed by invariable laws, which\nact irrespectively of human volitions, than the corresponding fact with\nreference to Divine conduct impairs the freedom of the Divine Will.\nThere is no one living to whom such a doctrine--degrading man, as it\ndoes, into a helpless puppet, robbing him of all moral responsibility\nand of every motive for either exertion or self-control--can be more\nutterly repugnant than to Mr. Mill, who nevertheless, although\ndissenting from Mr. Buckle's more extreme opinions, makes use of some\nexpressions which may be construed into a qualified approval of his\ngeneral views. Even Mr. Mill speaks of 'human volitions as depending on\nscientific laws,' thereby implying that the circumstances from which\nhuman motives and, consequently, human actions result are continually\nrecurring with a certain regularity. He speaks of 'general laws\naffecting communities, which are indeed modified in their action by\nspecial causes affecting individuals, but which, if their effects could\nbe observed over a field sufficiently wide and for a period sufficiently\nlong to embrace all possible combinations of the special causes, would\nbe found to produce constant results.'[26] This proposition seems to\nproceed on the assumption that general causes are either of uniform\noperation, or that, if they vary in their effects, their variations, and\nalso those of special causes, occur with a certain regularity, and\nconstantly recur within a certain definite period. But this is precisely\nwhat cannot possibly happen. Among the general causes referred to, some\nfew are continuous--those, namely, which are inherent in human nature;\nbut even these are continually modified in their action by changes\ncontinually taking place in those other general causes which constitute\nthe existing state of society, and which are not merely continually\nchanging, but are continually becoming more and more different from what\nthey were originally. So much is fully admitted by Mr. Mill himself, and\nindeed can be scarcely more strongly enforced than by his own words.\n'There is a progressive change,' he says, 'both in the character of the\nhuman race, and in their outward circumstances, so far as moulded by\nthemselves; in each successive age the principal phenomena of society\nare different from what they were in the age preceding, and still more\ndifferent from any previous age.'[27] It is admitted, then, that there\ncan be no recurrence of social phenomena; and it is obvious that, the\nlonger the period of observation, the less possibility can there be of\ntheir recurring, since the greater is the certainty that new causes\nwill come into operation. But, even though it were possible that all the\nexternal circumstances which have once influenced either communities or\nindividuals could be repeated, the same circumstances could not a second\ntime produce the same effects. Men of different characters are affected\nin very different ways by the same influences, and the characters of any\nparticular generation of men are always very different from those of\nevery preceding generation. Let it be supposed, for the sake of\nargument, that the French of the present day could be placed in\nprecisely the same social condition in which their fathers were towards\nthe close of the last century; still they would act very differently\nfrom their fathers. Nay, even though they should, with one single\nexception, have inherited the dispositions of their fathers, the\ndifference of character in one single individual might suffice to give\nan entirely new turn to the course of events. If every other antecedent\nof the first French Revolution were again present, still there might be\nno second revolution, provided only that, instead of another Louis the\nSixteenth, a Leopold of Belgium, or a Frederick the Great were king.[28]\nWith the last mentioned on the throne, there would assuredly be no\nrepetition of that vacillation of purpose which rocked the cradle and\nfostered the growth of popular fury till it culminated in a Reign of\nTerror. Since, then, there cannot be either a repetition of the same\ncircumstances to act upon men, or a reproduction of the same sort of\nmen to be acted upon by circumstances, human conduct can never exhibit a\nrepetition of the same phenomena; experience of the past can never, in\nsocial or political affairs, furnish a formula for predictions as to the\nfuture. Accordingly Mr. Mill, in common with Mr. Stephen, disclaims the\nidea of positive, and pleads only for conditional, predictions. But the\nvery term 'conditional predictions' involves a contradiction, since it\nis obviously impossible to see beforehand what perhaps may never come to\npass. What is meant by the phrase is really nothing more than\nconjectures; and conjectures, however ingenious and reasonable, cannot\nbe admitted within the pale of science. They cannot be accepted as\nfruits of a tree which has by the quality of its fruits proved its right\nto be entitled the Science of History.\n\nWith the view of enhancing the value of conditional predictions, it has\nbeen urged that they are of precisely the same description as those\nwhich we are in the habit of hazarding with respect to our familiar\nacquaintance. There are, it is said, 'general maxims regarding human\nconduct, by the application of which to given states of fact,\npredictions may be made as to what will happen;' and all that is\nnecessary for the construction of historical science, is the employment\nof these maxims on a larger scale. If the premiss here be sound, the\ninference may be owned to be sufficiently legitimate. If there be any\nformula with which the actions of individuals are observed to\ncorrespond, there is every likelihood that the same formula may, by\nextension and amplification, be adapted to the actions of communities.\nBut, although there are plenty of maxims telling men what they _ought_\nto do, there is not one--except that which declares that they must all\ndie--which affords any positive information as to what they _will_ do.\n'Thou shalt not steal,' 'thou shalt not kill,' 'thou shalt not commit\nadultery;'--all these and many more are moral laws; but of not one of\nthem--the more's the pity--is the observance sufficiently regular, to\ngive it the smallest pretension to be styled a scientific law. General\npropositions, too, there are in abundance, representing with more or\nless accuracy the probable results of particular lines of conduct. Such\nare the proverbial sayings, that 'Honesty is the best policy,' that 'A\nrolling stone gathers no moss,' that 'The racecourse is the road to\nruin.' But adages like these were never supposed to afford any basis for\nprophecy. It may be that an honest man more commonly gets on in the\nworld than a knave, though there is also much to be said on behalf of\nthe counter-proposition, that 'The children of darkness are wiser in\ntheir generation than the children of light;' but, at any rate, there is\nno doubt that a man may be honest without being prosperous, and that he\nis often all the poorer for his probity. But, indeed, is there any one\nconceivable situation in life in which a positive rule can be laid down\nas to the course which men will follow? Can it even--to make use of an\nillustration which has been very effectively employed on the other\nside--can it even be said that a man will certainly marry a woman with\nwhom he is deeply in love, who returns his affection, whom he can marry\nif he likes, and whom he has the means of maintaining in a suitable\nmanner? Nine times out of ten he probably will; but in the tenth\ninstance a Brahmin's passion may be checked by fear of contamination\nwith a Pariah, or a King Cophetua's pride may prevent his wedding a\nbeggar-maid, or the titled owner of an entailed estate may decline to\nillegitimatise his offspring by espousing his deceased wife's sister, or\nbetrothed lovers may be parted by some such mysterious barrier as\nsprang up between Talbot Bulstrode and Aurora Floyd, or an Adam Bede, in\nspite of the example set by George Eliot's hero, may refrain from\nmarrying Dinah for fear of breaking his brother Seth's heart.\n\nEqually vain would be the search for any rule invariably applicable to\npolitical affairs. Even general propositions which sound like truisms\nare not universally true. It cannot even be said that misgovernment\nalways produces discontent, or that the combination of superior strength\nand superior strategy is always successful in war; for examples might be\ncited of nations remaining patient under an iron despotism, and perhaps\nalso of campaigns lost by armies with every advantage of skill, numbers,\nand discipline on their side. No better specimen can be given of what\nare popularly spoken of as historical laws than one propounded by Mr. C.\nMerivale, whose careful study of Roman annals has taught him to regard\nit as 'a condition of permanent dominion that conquerors should absorb\nthe conquered gradually into their own body, by extending, as\ncircumstances arise, a share in their own exclusive privileges to the\nmasses from whom they have torn their original independence.' The\nprinciple thus laid down is of great value, but it must not be mistaken\nfor an index pointing unerringly to a goal which will certainly be\nobtained by following its direction. At least the offer of Austrian\ncitizenship had no perceptible effect in overcoming the exclusiveness of\nHungarian nationality; nor in inducing Venetia to become a willing\nmember of a Teutonic Federation, and to lend the same assistance to the\nHouse of Hapsburg, as Gaul and Spain did to the Caesars, in suppressing\ninsurrection on the banks of the Danube. History supplies many\nprinciples similar to the one evolved by Mr. Merivale, all more or less\nuseful for the guidance of the statesman. So far as they are just, they\nindicate the results which would spring from the adoption of certain\nlines of policy, unless something unforeseen should happen. It is true\nthat something unforeseen is almost sure to happen and to divert or\nimpede the course which events would otherwise take; but still, it is\nmost important to be able to perceive clearly the influence exerted by\ncertain causes, how much soever that influence may be disturbed by other\ncauses; since, if it does nothing else, it will at least prevent the\ndisturbing causes from producing what would otherwise have been their\nfull effect. On principles which indicate only a few out of many causes\nin simultaneous operation, it is evident that nothing deserving to be\ncalled predictions can be founded; but from them, nevertheless--inasmuch\nas they teach that some causes act for good and others for evil, as far\nas their action extends--practical rules of government may be deduced.\nSuch rules, however, which at best can only furnish a loose and shifting\nbasis for doubtful conjectures, stand without the confines of positive\nknowledge; they occupy a middle-ground between science and nescience,\nand constitute what, until very lately, was thought to be designated\nwith sufficient distinctness as the 'Philosophy of History.' By that\nterm, Mr. Stephen in one place says, is really meant all that he ever\nmeant by the Science of History; and the observation, were it not\napparently inconsistent with his general reasoning, might seem to imply\nthat the only question between him and his opponents is whether a thing,\nthe existence of which is not disputed, ought or ought not to receive a\nnew appellation. But it is otherwise, at any rate, with Mr. Mill. The\nlanguage used by him on this as on all other subjects, is too clear and\nprecise to admit of its being supposed that he has used a new phrase\nwithout attaching to it a new signification, or to permit the present\nwriter to believe, as he fain would do, that a point of nomenclature is\nthe only point of difference between himself and one from whom it is so\ndifficult to differ without diffidence and self-distrust.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[22] Mr. Buckle's first chapter, _passim_.\n\n[23] 'Cornhill Magazine,' for June and July, 1861.\n\n[24] 'Lay Sermons,' p. 158.\n\n[25] A highly esteemed literary friend, who has done me the favour of\nlooking over these pages in manuscript, considers that what I have\nproved is, not that Omnipotence involves the co-existence of Freewill\nand Necessity, but that Omnipotence itself, although capable of\npossessing all things, could not possess Freewill, and that consequently\nFreewill cannot possibly exist--that there cannot possibly be any such\nthing.\n\nAlthough, for reasons stated four pages back, not myself prepared to\naccept this view of the matter, I should cheerfully accept it if I\ncould. The argument in the text proceeds upon the assumption that people\nmean something when they talk about Freewill. If, however, they have no\nmeaning, if the phrase be a simple sound signifying nothing, of course\nall controversy regarding the possible co-existence of that nothing with\nNecessity is settled at once and for ever, while no great amount of\nphilosophy will be requisite to induce mankind to resign themselves very\nplacidly to the absence of that same nothing.\n\n[26] Mill's 'Logic.' Fifth edition. Vol. ii. p. 527.\n\n[27] Mill's 'Logic,' vol. ii. p. 504.\n\n[28] 'S'il se fut trouve alors (vers 1750) sur le trone un prince de la\ntaille et de l'humeur du Grand Frederic, je ne doute point qu'il n'eut\naccompli dans la societe et dans le gouvernement plusieurs des plus\ngrands changements que la Revolution y a faits, non-seulement sans\nperdre sa couronne, mais en augmentant beaucoup son pouvoir.'--De\nTocqueville, _L'Ancien Regime_, p. 274.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n_DAVID HUME AS A METAPHYSICIAN._\n\n     But the mischief lieth here; that when men of less leisure see them\n     who are supposed to have spent their whole time in the pursuit of\n     knowledge professing an entire ignorance of all things, or\n     advancing such notions as are repugnant to plain and commonly\n     received principles, they will be tempted to entertain suspicions\n     concerning the most important truths which they had hitherto held\n     sacred and unquestionable.--Berkeley's _Hylas and Philonous_.\n\n\nIn no department of science is it possible for an enquirer to advance\nconsiderably beyond all his predecessors without serving as a light by\nwhose aid his successors may advance somewhat beyond him. This is the\nonly apology that I feel disposed to offer for the freedom with which I\nam about to criticize one who, having been, by judges so competent as\nAdam Smith and Professor Huxley, pronounced to be 'by far the greatest\nphilosopher' and 'acutest thinker' of his own age, would, doubtless, be\nat least on a level with the greatest philosophers of the present age if\nhe were living now. The veriest cripple that can manage to sit on\nhorseback may contrive to crawl some few steps beyond the utmost point\nto which his steed has borne him, and, if those steps be uphill, may, by\nlooking back on the course he has come, perceive where the animal has\ndeviated from the right road. Yet he does not on that account suppose\nthat his own locomotive power is in any respect to be compared to his\nhorse's; neither need an annotator on Hume, when pointing to holes in\nhis author's metaphysical coat, be supposed not to be perfectly aware\nthat it is the strength, not of his own eyes, but of the spectacles\nfurnished to him by his author, that enables him to perceive them.\n\nThe concentrated essence of Hume's metaphysics is to be found in 'An\nEnquiry concerning Human Understanding,' forming part of a volume of\nEssays which Hume published somewhat late in life, and which he desired\nmight 'alone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments and\nprinciples.' To a formal, though necessarily rapid, examination of the\nresults of this 'Enquiry,' the present chapter will be almost\nexclusively devoted. Often as the operation has been performed already,\nthere are two reasons why its repetition here may not be without\nutility: for, first, its subject is a treatise containing the germs of\nmuch subsequent and still current speculation which, in so far as it is\nmerely a development of those germs, cannot but be infected by whatever\nunsoundness may be inherent in them; and, secondly, because the subject,\nhackneyed as it may seem, is so far from being exhausted, that there is\nscarcely one among the doctrines embodied in it to which, as I proceed\nat once to show, fresh objection, more or less grave, may not be taken\nby a fresh investigator.\n\nTo begin very near indeed to the beginning, let us take, first, the\nsection of the 'Enquiry' which treats of the 'Origin of Ideas.' All the\nperceptions of the mind may, according to Hume, be divided into two\nclasses, whereof the one consists of all those 'more lively\nperceptions,' termed by him indifferently Impressions or Sensations,\nwhich we experience when we 'hear, or see, or feel, or love, or hate, or\ndesire, or will:' the other, of those 'less lively perceptions of which\nwe are conscious when we reflect on any of the sensations\nabove-mentioned,' and which are commonly denominated thoughts or ideas.\n'All our ideas or more feeble perceptions,' he continues, 'are copies of\nour impressions or more lively ones,' the 'entire creative power of the\nmind amounting to no more than the faculty of compounding, transposing,\naugmenting, or diminishing the materials afforded by the senses and\nexperience.' So confident is he of the literal accuracy of this\nstatement, as to proceed to intimate that whenever we find in\nconversation or argument 'a philosophical term employed seemingly\nwithout any idea or meaning,' we have only to enquire from what\nimpression its idea, if it have one, is derived, when, if no impression\ncan be adduced, we may be sure that no idea is present either. The only\nphenomenon opposed to this rule, which he professes himself able to\nthink of, is that of a person who, of a colour--as, for instance,\nblue--with which he is familiar, is able to conceive a shade somewhat\ndifferent from any of the shades which he has actually seen; but this\ninstance he disregards as too singular to affect the general maxim, to\nwhich, as he might have added, it is not really an exception, any more\nthan would be the power of a person who had never seen a mountain higher\nthan Snowdon or Mont Blanc to conceive one as high as Chimborazo or\nMount Everest, for, equally in both cases, the ideas are copies of\nsensible impressions, although of complex, not simple, ones--of colour\nand graduation in the first case, of size and increase in the second.\nStill, there is at least one genuine exception, which it is the more\nremarkable that Hume should have overlooked, as it may be said to have\nstared him in the face from the very subject-matter he was considering.\nOur idea of idea itself, from what sensible impression is that derived?\nWe have just been told that the difference between an idea and a\nsensation is that the first is a copy of the second, a feeble copy of a\nlively original. The idea therefore is not itself a sensation; the copy\nis not itself an original. Neither consequently can the idea or notion\nwhich the mind proceeds to form of any of its previous ideas be derived\nfrom or be a copy of a sensation: it cannot have entered the mind 'in\nthe only manner by which,' according to Hume, 'an idea can have access\nto the mind, to wit, by actual feeling and sensation.'\n\nLet me not be misunderstood. Let me not be supposed to be courting\ncollision with the Berkleian thesis of the non-existence of abstract\nideas. I do not for one moment doubt that all our general or class\nnotions of sensible objects or events are merely concrete ideas of\nindividual objects or events--that, for instance, whenever we talk of\nman or motion in general, we are really thinking of some particular man\nor motion, which, as possessing all properties common to all men or\nmotions, serves as a representative of the entire _genus_. Neither am I\nprepared to deny, although scarcely either prepared to admit, that even\nof abstract qualities all our general or class notions are equally ideas\nof particular specimens of those qualities; that, when we speak, for\ninstance, of virtue or vice in general, we are thinking of some\nparticular exhibition of some particular kind of virtue or vice. Nay, I\nam not even concerned to deny that our idea of idea in general may\npossibly be a copy of some particular one of our previous ideas which,\nfor the nonce, serves to represent all our other previous ideas. I limit\nmyself to saying that our idea of idea in general, whether it be or be\nnot itself an abstraction, is, at all events, not a copy of sensation. I\nadmit that it thereby differs essentially from most, if not all, other\ngeneral ideas. Possibly it may be only through my having myself felt\nthe promptings of some particular virtue or vice, that I am able to form\nan idea of that particular virtue or vice. If so, I admit that my idea\nof that particular virtue or vice is but, as Hume would say, a copy of\nmy feeling. And since, undoubtedly, I can feel myself thinking, or\nperceiving, or performing any other mental operation, I am bound to\nadmit, further, that my idea of any such operation may equally be\ndescribed as a copy of a sensation which I have experienced. All I\ncontend for is that if, after having formed my idea, either of a mental\noperation or of anything else whatever, I proceed to ask myself what\nsort of an entity that idea is, the answer which I give myself, or, in\nother words, the idea which I form of my previous idea, being a copy of\nidea, cannot be a copy of sensation.\n\nSo much must surely be conceded to me, for that white, being white,\ncannot be also black is not nearly so certain as that idea and\nsensation, being two distinct things, idea of idea cannot be idea of\nsensation. The concession, indeed, is likely enough to be accompanied by\nan exclamation of wonder that so microscopic a flaw in an elaborate\nexposition should be thought worth pointing out; but Hume himself would\ncertainly not have so retorted. Of the doctrine which I am impugning,\nviz., that every _idea_ is copied from some preceding _sensation_, he\nhad spoken as follows:--'Those who would assert that this position is\nnot universally true, nor without exception, have only one, and that an\neasy, method of refuting it, by producing the idea which, in their\nopinion, is not derived from this source. It will then be incumbent on\nus, if we would maintain our doctrine, to produce the impression or\nlively perception which corresponds to it.' He was much too candid not\nto have acknowledged that this challenge of his had been fairly and\nfully met. He was not a man to refuse to own himself refuted when, after\ndistinctly intimating that the production of one single idea, having no\nperception correspondent to it amongst those which we experience 'when\nwe see, or hear, or feel, or love, or hate, or will, or desire,' would\nsuffice for his entire refutation, he found such an idea produced. He\nknew too well also to what enormous errors of thought minute errors of\nexpression may lead, to disregard any speck of inaccuracy in any one of\nhis definitions. The apparently slight oversight committed by him on\nthis occasion will, indeed, be presently seen to have sensibly\ncontributed to lead him subsequently into a mistake of no small\npractical moment.\n\nWe come next to the 'Association of Ideas,' the influence of which\nalmost all of Hume's successors, as well as himself, seem to me to have\ngreatly over-rated. That there is a 'principle of connection between the\ndifferent thoughts or ideas of the mind' is, as he says, sufficiently\nevident; and that this principle is, as he was apparently the first to\nremark, threefold, deriving its efficacy from resemblance, contiguity in\ntime or place, and cause or effect, may also be admitted with little\nqualification. But I presume to think that he is quite incorrect in\nadding that, in virtue of the aforesaid principle, ideas 'introduce each\nother with a certain degree of method or regularity.' You are walking,\nlet us suppose, through Hyde Park, thinking of nothing more particular\nthan that the morning is a pleasant one, when you suddenly find yourself\nin imagination pacing the shore of the Dead Sea, and, pausing to ask\nyourself how you got there, you discover, perhaps, that it was by the\nfollowing steps. Remarking some landscape effect in the distance, you\nwere reminded of a similar one which you had remarked years before while\ntaking a walk fifty miles off in Sussex. Here resemblance operated. Then\nyou recollected how during that walk you were thinking about Mr. Buckle,\nwhose lucubrations you had been conning over before starting. Here\nentered contiguity both of time and space. The name of Buckle reminded\nyou how that promising writer ended his travels abroad by dying of a\nfever which he caught while sailing over the sites of the engulphed\ncities of the plain. Here cause and effect came into action; and, so\nfar, everything accords with Hume's theory. But if you repeat the same\nwalk to-morrow, the same landscape effect will almost certainly suggest\na train of ideas quite different from that of to-day. Perhaps it may\nbegin by reminding you of landscape effects in general; then of Mr.\nRuskin, who has discoursed so eloquently on that topic, and next of Mr.\nRuskin's 'Stones of Venice,' from whence it is equal chances whether\nyour thoughts radiate, on one side of the compass, to stone china, or\nStoney Stratford, or Stonewall Jackson, or, on the other, to the\n'Venetian Bracelet,' L. E. L. and Fernando Po, or to that effective\nadaptation of the Venetian style of architecture, the Railway Station at\nSt. Pancras, and thence to some town or other on the Midland Line.\n\nThese examples will be readily recognized as fair average specimens of\nthose unpremeditated trains of thought with which we are all familiar.\nIs there, then, in the arrangement of the consecutive thoughts of which\nthe several trains are composed, any method or regularity common, I will\nnot say to all, but to any two of them? According to Hume and to most of\nhis successors in the same path of enquiry, there ought to be. Thus the\nillustrious author of the 'Analysis of the Human Mind' affirms, without\nrebuke or protest from any one of his not less illustrious commentators,\nthat 'our ideas spring up or exist in the order in which the sensations\nexisted of which they are the copies: that of those sensations which\noccurred synchronically, the ideas also spring up synchronically, and\nthat of the sensations which occurred successively, the ideas rise\nsuccessively.' And he adds, 'this is the general law of the Association\nof Ideas,' remarking, by way of illustration, that, as 'I have seen the\nsun, and the sky in which it is placed, synchronically, if I think of\nthe one I think of the other at the same time'; and that, as when\ncommitting to memory a passage of words, as, for instance, the Lord's\nPrayer, we pronounce the words in successive order, and have\nconsequently the sensation of the words in successive order, so when we\nproceed to repeat the passage, 'the ideas of the words also rise in\nsuccession, _Our_ suggesting _Father, Father_ suggesting _which, which_\nsuggesting _art_, and so on to the end.'[29]\n\nOh Law! Law! most abused of scientific terms, what an infinity of\ndogmatic illegalities are committed in thy name! The one thing which\nscientific law implies is regularity of occurrence, but what regulation\nis it that is obeyed in common by a number of sequences commencing at\nthe same point in Hyde Park, yet terminating, one in Africa, another in\nAmerica, a third in Palestine, and a fourth in the centre of England?\nCan it have been seriously said that it is impossible for us to think of\nthe sky without thinking simultaneously of the sun which illuminates\nthe sky? Is it impossible for us to think instead of the ether which\nconstitutes it, or peradventure even of the resemblance between its\ncelestial azure and what Moore calls the 'most unholy blue' of some\nfrolicsome Cynthia's eyes? And is it not notorious that when saying the\nLord's Prayer--a prayer which, in spite of the injunction by which its\noriginal dictation was accompanied, to 'avoid vain repetitions, as the\nheathen do,' many Anglican clergymen insist on repeating half-a-dozen\ntimes in a single service--is it not notorious that, so far from the\nidea of one word suggesting to us the idea of the next, no small effort\nof attention is requisite to enable us to have any idea at all of what\nwe are saying?\n\nIt would seem that the author of the 'Analysis' either could not help\nasking himself questions like these, or, without asking the questions,\ncould not help seeing the commonplace truths involved in the inevitable\nreplies to them. It would seem to have been semi-consciousness of the\nutter inability of the evidence first cited by him to justify belief in\nthe necessarily simultaneous or successive occurrence of the ideas of\nsimultaneously or successively experienced sensations, which made him\nhave recourse for help to _complex_ ideas. 'If,' he says, 'from a stone\nI have had synchronically the sensation of colour, the sensation of\nhardness, the sensations of shape and size, the sensation of\nweight,--when the idea of one of these sensations occurs, the ideas of\nall of them occur.' Because, then, I may have ascertained by experience\nthat a stone is white, hard, and round, two feet in diameter, and twenty\npounds in weight, am I really incapable, if I happen to break my shin\nagainst it, of thinking how hard it is, without thinking also how heavy;\nor, when trying to lift it, of thinking how heavy it is without\nthinking likewise of its shape and colour? Elsewhere the same writer\nspeaks of 'ideas which have been so often conjoined that whenever one\nexists in the mind, the others immediately exist along with it, seem to\nrun into one another, to coalesce, as it were, and out of many to form\none idea.' But which are the ideas whereof this can be said? The writer\ninstances those simple ideas, colour, hardness, extension, weight,\nwhich, he says, make up our complex ideas of gold or iron. He instances,\ntoo, the ideas of resistance, muscular contractility, direction,\nextension, place, and motion, of which he says our apparently simple\nidea, weight, is compounded. Does he mean, then, that we cannot\nentertain the idea of yellowness without entertaining at the same time\nall the other ideas necessary for composing the idea of gold, and\nentertaining, too, that idea in addition to all the rest? Does he mean\nthat a train of thought cannot commence with place without terminating\nwith weight? Of course he means nothing of the kind, although so he\ndistinctly says. Rather, he appears to mean the direct converse, viz.,\nthat we cannot have the idea of gold or of weight present to the mind,\nwithout having present also all the simple ideas of which those complex\nideas are compounded--in other words, not that the occurrence of any one\ncomponent necessarily calls up all the other components, and forms with\nthem the compound, but that the appearance of the compound brings with\nit all its separate components.\n\nBut neither does this seem to be a strictly correct representation. I am\nnot sure that I can think of gold without thinking of yellowness, but I\nam positive that I can without thinking of hardness. Nor is there any\ndoubt that the youngest child knows perfectly well what it means when,\ntrying to lift a stone, it calls the stone heavy, although it might not\nbe more difficult to make the stone itself than the child understand\nwhat is meant by muscular contractility. I own that if it be here\ndemanded of me how a compound can be present unless every one of its\ncomponents be present also, I may under pressure be constrained to\nsuggest that possibly, after all, the very term _compound_ or _complex\nidea_ may be somewhat of a misnomer, or at any rate that the\nconstituents of such an idea are much fewer than is commonly supposed.\nBe it admitted that the idea, so styled, could not have been formed\nwithout the instrumentality of other and previously-formed ideas, still\nit does not follow that the instruments of production should for ever\nafter accompany the product. The rackful of dry toast which is brought\nto you for breakfast could scarcely have been so neatly sliced without\nthe help of a knife, but the toast is not the less in bodily presence on\nthe breakfast-table because the knife that cut it has been left behind\nin the kitchen. Neither, although you may probably be aware that salt,\nsuet, sugar, and spice enter into the composition of a Christmas\npudding, do you necessarily think of those separate ingredients when you\nthink of the pudding, any more than you would see them separately if you\nsaw the pudding. The only qualities which you apparently cannot help\nthinking of when you think of the pudding are its size, shape, and\ncolour.\n\nOne word more about the assumed regularity in the succession of ideas.\nThat when you are repeating a familiar form of words or playing a\nfamiliar piece of music, every word uttered or note struck, by reason of\nconnexion of some sort between itself and the word or note next in\norder, enables you without the smallest mental effort to utter that\nword or strike that note, is too notorious to be questioned. But I do\nvery earnestly question whether the connexion that thus operates is an\nassociation of ideas. How can it be, when, as frequently happens, you\nhave not the smallest idea of what it is you are saying or playing? Have\nyou not often, after reverently saying grace, like the decent\npaterfamilias you probably are, occasioned a giggle round the table by\nsaying it again a minute or two afterwards, in utter unconsciousness\nthat you had said it just before? Or, if I may so far flatter myself as\nto fancy my reader a fair daughter of the house instead of the staid\nhouse father--has it never happened to you, Miss, while executing a\nbrilliant performance on the piano, to have been so entirely engrossed\nby an animated flirtation carried on simultaneously, that, if at the\nconclusion of the piece you had been asked what you had been playing,\nyou could not have replied whether it was _La ci darem la mano_ or _Non\nmi voglio maritar_? And is it not evident that non-existent ideas cannot\nhave called real ideas into existence?\n\nMy own modest contribution towards explanation of these mysterious\nphenomena is as follows. Apart from association of _ideas_, there is a\nseparate and independent association--to wit, association of\n_volitions_. While committing to memory a form of words, or trying a new\npiece of music, every separate movement of your tongue or of your\nfingers is consequent on some separate volition. Each series of\nmovements is consequent on a series of volitions. By being repeatedly\nmade to follow each other in the same order, the several volitions\nbecome connected with each other, so that whenever the mind desires to\nmarshal them in the aforesaid order, each one, as it presents itself,\nbrings with it the next in succession, until the whole series is\ncompleted; while, as each volition has consequent upon it a\ncorresponding movement, a series of corresponding movements\nsimultaneously takes place. The mind meanwhile is quite unconscious of\nthe muscular movements that are going on. What it is conscious of are\nthe volitions without which no voluntary movements of the muscles could\nhave been made, and of which the mind must needs be conscious, because a\nvolition of which the mind was not conscious would be an involuntary\nvolition, a birth too monstrous for even metaphysics to be equal to. But\nalthough necessarily conscious of these volitions, the mind is only\nmomentarily conscious. It pays them barely an instant's attention, and\ntherefore instantaneously forgets them, retaining no more trace of them\nthan if they had never been.\n\nThe doctrine of Hume's which next confronts us is his famous one\nconcerning Cause and Effect. He commences it by explaining that all\nobjects of human enquiry are divisible into two kinds--1. Relations of\nIdeas, like those of which geometry, algebra, and arithmetic treat, and\nwhich are either intuitively certain, or 'discoverable by the mere\noperation of thought, without dependence on what is anywhere existent in\nthe universe,' as, for example, the truths demonstrated by Euclid, which\nwould be equally incontestable even 'though there were never a circle or\na triangle in nature:' 2. Matters of Fact, as, for example, the sun's\nrising and setting, or the emission of light and heat by fire, which are\nnever discoverable by unassisted reason, because of no one of them would\nthe opposite imply a contradiction or be consequently inconceivable; and\nin our knowledge of any one of which we can never 'go beyond the\nevidence of our memory and senses,' except by means of reasons derived\nfrom experience of some fact or facts connected in some way or other\nwith the particular matter of fact we are considering.\n\nSo far, all is comparatively plain sailing, but Hume now propounds a\ndifficulty which he at first presents as seemingly insurmountable, but\nwhich I cannot help thinking to be mainly of his own creation, and which\nhe himself, almost immediately afterwards, suggests a mode, though a\nvery inadequate mode, of overcoming. His language here is not marked by\nhis usual perspicuity, or rather--to speak without respect of\npersons--it contradicts itself in most astounding fashion; but his\nmeaning is not the less certainly the following, for there is no other\nconstruction which his words will bear.\n\n'What,' he asks, 'is the foundation of all conclusions from experience?'\nWhy is it that, having found that such an object has always been\nattended with such an effect, we infer that similar objects will always\nbe attended with similar effects? The proposition that a certain\nantecedent has always been followed by a certain consequent, and the\nproposition that the same antecedent will be followed by the same\nconsequent, are not identical. What, then, is the connexion between them\nwhich causes one to be inferred from the other? The connexion is\nunhesitatingly pronounced by him to be neither intuitively perceived,\nnor yet to be 'founded on any process of the understanding.' If you\ninsist that the inference is made by a chain of reasoning, he challenges\nyou to produce that reasoning, and taking for granted that you have none\nto produce, he proceeds to indicate what principle it is which, in his\nopinion, does determine us to form the inference. That principle he\ndeclares to be custom or habit, by which alone, he asserts, we are,\nafter the constant conjunction of two objects, determined to expect the\none from the appearance of the other; adding that all inferences from\nexperience are effects of custom, not of reasoning.\n\nWhat is the correct answer to this question of Hume's I shall be rash\nenough to endeavour to indicate a little further on; meanwhile there can\nbe no temerity in saying that whatever be the right answer, Hume's is\ncertainly a wrong one. Habit plainly cannot be its own parent. It\nenables us to repeat more easily what we have already repeatedly done,\nbut it cannot be the cause of our doing or being able to do anything for\nthe first time. An infant that has once burnt its fingers by touching\nthe flame of a candle, expects that if it touch the flame again it will\nburn its fingers again, but it does not expect this because it has been\nin the habit of expecting it. Neither, if we be here bidden to\nunderstand that the habit referred to is not any mental habit of our\nown, but a habit which we have observed certain phenomena to have of\nfollowing each other, shall we thereby be brought one whit nearer the\ntruth. Our infant with the burnt finger has not observed that flame is\nin the habit of burning. It only knows that flame did burn on the one\noccasion on which it tried the experiment, which experiment it\nconsequently declines to repeat. Besides, no one needs to be told that\ninferences, though thus capable of being drawn from single occurrences,\nare drawn with increased confidence from observation of habit. We all\nknow already that, having always found that fire burns, we infer that it\nalways will burn. What we want to know is, why we draw this inference.\nThis is the question which Hume puts, and respecting which he gives\nvery positively the negative reply that the inference is not drawn\neither intuitively, nor yet by any process of the understanding. Yet\nthat a body when not moving must needs be at rest, is not more certainly\ndemonstrable than that inferences cannot possibly be drawn except in one\nor other of these two ways. Is not every inference a species of belief,\nand must not every belief be either innate within us, or have been\nacquired artificially; and, as in the latter case, it is a mental\nacquisition, must it not in that case have been acquired by an operation\nof the mind or understanding? Is it not clear, then, that inferences\nmust always be either intuitive or ratiocinative; and is it not strange\nthat Hume should deny that they ever are so? Yet stranger still is it,\nthat even while denying them to be either one or the other, he, almost\nin the same breath, pronounces them to be both. For, after having on one\npage denied that they are founded on reason, or any process of the\nunderstanding, he describes them on the next page as being not simply\nfounded on, but as being themselves 'processes of the mind,' 'processes\nof thought,' and immediately afterwards 'arguments,' nay, '_reasonings_\nfrom experience;' and, yet again, after as short a pause, these very\nsame 'reasonings,' and 'arguments,' and 'processes of the mind and\nthought,' he concludes by styling 'natural instincts which no reason or\nprocess of the thought or understanding is able either to produce or to\nprevent'--'operations of the soul as unavoidable' when the mind is\nplaced in certain circumstances, as it is 'to feel the passion of love\nwhen we receive benefits, or hatred when we meet with injuries.'\n\nWhat are we to say to a description of mental operations which are and\nare not 'arguments' and 'reasonings,' which are and are not 'processes\nof thought,' which are not 'intuitive,' and which yet are 'instincts?'\nHow are we to account for such amazing inconsistencies in an exposition\nof one of the greatest of philosophers? With all humility, I submit the\nfollowing as a possible solution of the enigma.\n\nThe one solitary ground on which Hume denies the argumentative and\nratiocinative character of what he nevertheless terms arguments and\nreasonings, is the impossibility of producing the _chains_ of argument\nor reasoning of which they are composed. But this impossibility can at\nmost only prove that the reasonings are elementary, and have,\nconsequently, no component parts into which they can be resolved. But\nreasoning is not the less reasoning for being elementary, or for being\nonly a single link in a chain, instead of being itself a chain composed\nof many links. Still, being elementary, it may occur to, and pass\nthrough, the mind with extreme rapidity--with not less rapidity than an\nintuition or instinct, for which therefore it may easily be mistaken, as\naccordingly it has actually been by Hume. But that a reasoning from\nexperience is not really an instinct is certain, firstly, because\nintuitive or instinctive reasoning, if not a phrase absolutely devoid of\nmeaning, is a contradiction in terms; and, secondly, because, if it were\ninstinctive, it would precede instead of following experience, and a\nbaby, instead of finding out that flame burns by touching it, would know\nbeforehand that flame burns, and would therefore not touch it.\n\nFrom the species of Belief constituted by an inference from experience,\nHume, by an easy transition, passes on to Belief in general, which he\ndefines to be 'nothing but a more vivid, lively, forcible, firm, steady\nconception of an object, than what the imagination alone is ever able\nto attain,' referring, by way of illustration, to an animal with the\nhead of a man and the body of a horse, which anyone can imagine, but no\none can believe in, and desiring us apparently to suppose that if our\ngroom were to come and tell us that he had found a centaur feeding in\nthe paddock beside our favourite saddle-horse, our sole reason for\nbelieving in the horse and for not believing in the centaur would be our\ngreater ability to conceive the one than the other. That such a\ndefinition should for a moment have satisfied its author's curiosity, is\nitself a psychological curiosity which must not, however, be suffered to\ndetain us. Whoever, not content with knowing perfectly well what belief\nis, desires to have his knowledge of it set down in writing, should read\nthe admirable notes on the subject, with which Mr. John Mill and Mr.\nBain have enriched the last edition of Mr. James Mill's 'Analysis of the\nHuman Mind.' Most readers, however, will probably be disposed to avail\nthemselves here of a rather favourite phrase of Hume himself, and to\nplead that, 'if we agree about the thing, it is needless to dispute\nabout terms;' and it is not unlikely that such of them as may have\nformed their notion of metaphysical discussions in general from the\nspecimens given above, may go so far as to hint a doubt whether any of\nthe nice verbal distinctions which metaphysicians so much affect, are\nreally worth the trouble required to understand them. Nor would anyone,\nperhaps, be much the worse for acting upon this suspicion, provided\nthat, in accordance with it, he kept altogether aloof from the studies\nwhich it disparages. His ideas need not be the less clear because he\nneither knows nor cares of what they are copies, nor whether they are\ncopies of anything; nor will the order of their occurrence be at all\naffected in consequence of his being similarly careless, whether that\norder is or is not governed by a _law_ of association; neither need his\ninferences from experience be the less sound in consequence of his never\nhaving enquired how or why they are deduced. But although the most\nabsolute ignorance and corresponding indifference about these and\nkindred topics may not tend in the least to disqualify him for\nperformance of the whole duty of man, it is not the less important that,\nif he do care to know aught about them, his knowledge should be exact,\nfor there is no knowing beforehand how luxuriantly the minutest germ of\ntheoretical error may ramify in practice, or into what substantive\nquagmire trust in deceitful shadows may lead. These respectable\naphorisms may be beneficially borne in mind during perusal of what is\nabout to be said.\n\nIf the fact were really, as Hume supposed, that we have _no_ reason for\nour inferences from experience, and draw them only because either we\nhave been in the habit of drawing them, or because we are so constituted\nas to be unable to help drawing them, the reason of our drawing them\nplainly could not be that we perceive any necessary connection between\nantecedent and consequent events, or any force or power binding these\ntogether as cause and effect. Accordingly, Hume does not scruple to\naffirm that 'we have no idea of connection or power at all, and that\nthese words are absolutely without meaning when employed either in\nphilosophical reasoning or in common life.' Every idea, he argues,\nreferring to a rule which he somewhat hastily supposes himself to have\nalready proved to be without exception, must needs have been copied from\nsome preceding sensible impression, but neither from within nor from\nwithout can we have received an impression from which this particular\nidea can have been copied. No keenest scrutiny of any portion of matter,\nno study of its external configuration or internal structure could,\npreviously to experience, enable us to conjecture that it could produce\nany effect whatever, still less any particular effect: could enable us\nto guess, for instance, that flame would burn, or ice would chill, if\ntouched. Nor even though on once touching flame we get our fingers\nburnt, are mature philosophers like us to conclude, as if we had no more\nintelligence than so many babies, that if we touch again we shall be\nburnt again. All we have as yet learnt from the experiment is that the\nsensation of touching fire has once been followed by the sensation of\nburning, but nothing has occurred to suggest that in the first sensation\nlurked any secret power of producing the second. And what a single\nexperiment does not prove, no number of repetitions of precisely the\nsame experiment with precisely the same results can prove. Even though\non a lengthened course of experience we have found that in every case of\nour touching flame our fingers have been burnt, we are still as far as\never from perceiving any bond of connection between the two events. We\ndo indeed believe that as flame when touched has hitherto invariably\nburnt, so, whenever touched hereafter, it will hereafter invariably\nburn; but this, according to Hume, we believe simply because by long\npractice we have contracted such a habit of associating the idea of\ntouched flame with burnt fingers, that whenever we witness the one we\ncannot help expecting the other.\n\nNeither, if, withdrawing our eyes from the outward world, we cast them\ninwardly upon the operations of our own minds, shall we, according to\nHume, any the more discover what we are in search of. What though we\nknow by experience that whatever, within certain limits, our will\nappoints, our bodily organs or mental faculties will ordinarily perform;\nthat our limbs will move as we wish them, and our memory, reason, or\nimagination bring forward ideas which we desire to contemplate, what\nknowledge have we here beyond that of certain volitions and certain\nother acts taking place in succession? What smallest evidence have we of\nany connection between the volitions and the other acts? A volition is\nan operation of the mind, is it not? and body is matter, is it not? And\ndo you pretend to know--can you form the smallest approach to a\nguess--how mind is united with body, and how it is possible therefore\nfor the refined spiritual essence to actuate the gross material\nsubstance. If you 'were empowered by a secret wish to remove mountains\nor to control the planets in their orbit,' would such extensive\nauthority be one whit more inexplicable than the supposed ability of\nyour will to raise your hand to your head or to cause your foot to make\none forward step?\n\nIf, nevertheless, you fancy you understand in what manner the will has\nsome of the bodily organs under its government, how, pray, do you\naccount for its not having all equally--the heart and liver as well as\nthe tongue and fingers? Without trying, you never would have discovered\nthat your bowels _will not_, any more than without trying you could have\nknown that your limbs _will_, ordinarily move in conformity with your\nwishes. Neither, if one of your limbs were to be suddenly paralysed,\nwould you, until you tried, become aware that it would no longer move as\nyou wished. If there be, then, a power attached to the will, it is\nplainly experience alone which apprises you of its existence; whereas\nif you were independently conscious of it, you would know beforehand\nprecisely what it can and what it cannot effect, and would, moreover,\nwhen you lost it, become instantly aware of your loss.\n\nAgain, and above all, does not anatomy teach us that when the mind wills\nthe movement of any bodily member, it 'is not the member itself which is\nimmediately moved, but certain intervening nerves, muscles, and animal\nspirits, or possibly something still more minute and more unknown,'\nthrough which the motion is successively propagated until it reach the\nmember? So that when the mind wills one event, a series of other events,\nquite different and quite unthought of, take place instead; and it is\nonly by their means that the will's purpose is finally achieved. But how\ncan the mind be conscious, how can it form the remotest conception, of a\npower which not only never does what the mind desires, but never does\naught of which the mind is cognisant?\n\nAnd as we are thus utterly unable to perceive any power that the mind\nhas over the body, so are we equally unconscious of any power of the\nmind over itself. We know as little of its internal nature and\nconstitution as we do of its mode of connection with the body. We know\nby experience that at the bidding of the will ideas are continually\nbrought forward; but by what means they are brought forward we are\nabsolutely ignorant, as we are also of the reasons of the fluctuation of\nmental activity, and why mental operations are more vigorous in health\nthan in sickness, before breakfast than after a heavy dinner or deep\ncarouse.\n\nSuch, on the issue immediately before us, is Hume's reasoning, to\nwhich--though necessarily very greatly condensing it--I shall, I am\nsure, be acknowledged to have conscientiously striven to do full\njustice, by bringing all its points into the strongest light, and\narranging them in the most effective order. Still, with its utmost\nstrength thus displayed before us, we are fully warranted in asserting\n_a priori_ that its whole utmost strength is weakness. If, by following\na leader who has engaged to conduct us to a certain spot, we find\nourselves at our journey's end in a quite different place, no appeal\nthat the guide can make to maps or finger-posts will persuade us that he\nhas not mistaken the way. Nor need our judgment be otherwise, even\nthough our guide be Hume, if, having started with him in pursuit of\ntruth, we are finally landed in a patent absurdity. With all due respect\nfor logic, we protest with Tony Lumpkin against being argufied out of\nour senses, as we plainly should be if we allowed ourselves to be\npersuaded that whenever we use the words _power_ or _connection_ we have\nno idea thereto correspondent. Since, then, Hume tells us this, we may\nbe quite sure that he has been deluded by some fallacy which may be\ndetected by adequate search; and being, moreover, sensible that we\nreally have the idea our possession of which is denied by him, we may be\nequally sure that the original of which the idea is a copy is similarly\ndiscoverable. In sooth, neither the one nor the other is far to seek.\nThe fallacy consists simply in confusion of the definite with the\nindefinite article. The original of our idea of power Hume himself\nindicates even while rejecting it. Although constrained by Hume's\ndemonstration to confess that we cannot even conjecture of what kind is\n_the_ authority which the will exercises over the limbs, we are not the\nless sensible that it does exercise _an_ authority of some sort or\nother, which they are unable to disobey. We know that in ordinary\ncircumstances our limbs will move when we wish them to move, and will\nremain quiet when we wish them not to move. Nor this only. We moreover\nknow, or at any rate fancy we know, that they would not have moved\nunless we had wished them. In examples like these of volitions followed,\nas the case may be, by _premeditated_ motion or rest, we have something\nmore than the simple sequence observable in the succession of external\nevents. We do not perceive simply that, as when fire is lighted, heat is\nemitted, so when the mind wills the body moves. We perceive clearly that\nthere must be a connection of some sort between antecedent and\nconsequent, without which the first certainly _would not_ and, we fancy,\n_could not_ have followed the first. We perceive, in short, that the\nsecond followed _because_ the first preceded. If fire were an animated\nbeing, capable of forming and manifesting volitions; and if we observed\nthat whenever it wished to emit heat, heat was emitted; and that\nwhenever it wished to withhold heat, heat was withheld; and if we were\nthereupon to say that fire has the power of emitting or withholding heat\nat its pleasure, our words surely would not be destitute of\nsignification; they would certainly possess some meaning, and that a\nvery obvious one. And so they as certainly do when we say that the mind\nhas power over those bodily movements which we observe to take place and\nto cease in constant conformity with its will. I am not saying that what\nthey mean is necessarily truth--we will come to that presently--all I\nsay as yet is, that they mean something, and that that something,\nwhether it be a real or only an imaginary perception, is perfectly\nfitted to be the original of that idea of 'power' _connecting_ cause and\neffect, or of 'connection' _between_ cause and effect, which Hume\nmaintains does not exist, because there is no original from which it\ncan have been copied. It matters not that we are quite ignorant of what\nnature is the something from which our idea of power possessed by the\nmind over the body is derived, and which, for aught we know, may reside,\nnot in the mind, but in the body, and may consist, not of any strength\ninherent in the former, but of loyalty and docility inherent in the\nlatter. Just as the authority of a popular general over a\nwell-disciplined army is not the less real because the soldiers, every\none of whose lives is at the general's disposal, might, if so inclined,\nmutiny _en masse_, so it can make no difference in the mind's power over\nthe body whether the mind be intrinsically able to enforce obedience, or\nthe limbs be so constituted as to be unable to disobey. As little does\nit matter that we are also ignorant of the mode in which the mind's\nbehests are communicated to the members. It is not the less certain that\nin some mode or other they are communicated. Neither does it signify\nmore that the mind does not communicate directly with the part of the\nbody which it desires to influence, and acts upon that part only by\nmeans of action propagated through a series of intervening parts; or\nthat it is able to direct only some organs, and not others, or cannot\ndirect even those, if by some accident they have become seriously\nderanged. A strong-armed blockhead is not the less obviously able to\npump up water because the terms 'muscular contractility' and\n'atmospheric pressure' are as heathen Greek to him; or because the\npump-handle, which alone is directly moved by him, touches, not the\nwater itself, but only the first link in a chain of mechanism connecting\nit with the water; or because, if the sucker of the pump got choked, or\nthe well were to dry up, it would be vain for him to go on moving the\npump-handle. Blockhead as he is, nothing of all this in the least\ndiminishes his conviction that as long as the pump continues in order\nand there remains water in the well, he can oblige the water to rise by\nmoving the pump-handle; nor can anything analogous prevent the mind from\nfeeling that whenever, in ordinary circumstances, it wills that the\nlimbs be moved, the limbs not only will be moved, but cannot help being\nmoved accordingly. But it is simply impossible that, from the exercise\nof volitions which it knows will be obeyed, the mind should not receive\nthe sensation of exercising causal power; and having thus got the\nsensation, it has nothing to do but to copy the sensation in order to\nget the idea of causal power. _Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute_;\nthe first step being taken the others cost nothing. The mind having, by\nintrospection of its own operations, discovered what Hume, though\nprofessing to look in the same direction, unaccountably contrived to\noverlook--the idea, namely, of causal power--proceeds to apply that idea\nto the connection of external phenomena. Not only do we, whenever we see\na horse or an ox walking of its own accord, infer that the animal walks\n_because_ it wishes to walk; but having observed that, when a stone is\nthrown into the air it invariably falls presently afterwards towards the\nground; that a magnet invariably attracts any light piece of iron placed\nnear it; that red-hot coals always burn; and that water always moistens,\nwe infer that the second constituent of each brace of phenomena takes\nplace _because_ of the first, meaning thereby that there is some strong\nbond _connecting_ the two and _compelling_ one to follow the other. If\ncalled upon to justify this inference, we may do so by reducing to\nabsurdity its only possible alternative. If there be supposed to be no\nconnection between two phenomena constituting one of those invariable\nsequences which we are accustomed to denominate cause and effect, the\nsequence which they constitute must needs be an unconnected sequence,\nand the only reason for styling one of the phenomena a cause is, that it\nis an antecedent which the other invariably follows. But according to\nthis, as has been pointed out over and over again, day would be the\ncause of night, and night the cause of day, and tidal flux and reflux\nlikewise would be each other's causes; and Mr. J. S. Mill has therefore\nproposed to interpolate a word, and to define the cause of a phenomenon\nas 'the antecedent on which it (the phenomenon) is invariably and\n_unconditionally_ consequent.'[30] I must, however, confess myself\nunable to perceive how the definition is improved by this emendation.\nThere is not, and cannot possibly be, such a thing as _unconditionally_\ninvariable sequence, as, indeed, Mr. Mill himself virtually admits by\nexpressly assuming as an indispensable condition of all causation that\n'the present constitution of things endure.' But if, notwithstanding the\npresence of this indispensable condition, it be permissible to call any\nsequence unconditionally invariable, then the sequences of night upon\nday and of day upon night are such sequences, and day and night continue\nconsequently entitled to be styled each other's causes as much under the\namended as under the original definition. For as long as 'the present\nconstitution of things endures,' that is, as long as the earth continues\nto revolve on its axis, and the sun continues to shine, and no opaque\nsubstance intervenes between earth and sun, day and night will continue\nto be as invariably and unconditionally each other's antecedents as\nsunlight will continue to be the antecedent or concomitant of day.\nTrue, Mr. Mill denies that the earth's diurnal motion is part of the\npresent constitution of things, because, according to him, 'nothing can\nbe so called which might possibly be terminated or altered by natural\ncauses:' but, if so, then neither ought sunlight to be so called, for it\ntoo quite possibly may, nay, in the opinion of many philosophers, most\ncertainly will, be extinguished eventually by natural causes. If day\nought not to be called the unconditionally invariable consequent of\nnight merely because it would cease to be so if the earth were to cease\nturning on its axis, then neither ought it to be called the\nunconditionally invariable consequent of the unshrouded proximity of the\nsun, inasmuch as it would cease to be thereupon consequent if the sun\nwere to become burnt out. If night be not, and if sunlight be, the cause\nof day, the reason is not that sunlight always hitherto has been, and,\non one indispensable condition, always will be followed by day, for so\nequally has hitherto been, and on the same condition will hereafter be,\nnight. The real reason is, that sunlight not only always has been and\nwill be, but also always _must_ be followed by day; that unless the\nconstitution of nature very materially change, wherever is sunlight day\n_must_ be; whereas not only might day be, although night had never\npreceded, but unless night had preceded, day must have been from the\nbeginning. In short, to constitute cause, invariability, however\nunconditional, will not suffice. Another quality must be added, and that\nquality I contend to be obligatoriness. A cause, I maintain, would not\nbe a cause unless its effect not only do or will, but _must_ necessarily\nfollow it. In common with the great unphilosophic mass of mankind, I\nhold that between cause and effect there is a binding power which\nconstrains the one to follow the other. If asked whence we suppose that\npower can have been derived, such of us, as conscious that we are 'no\nvery great wits,' don't mind confessing that we 'believe in a God,' will\nnot mind either suggesting that the power, wherever not exerted by an\nanimated creature, may possibly be directly from God. One thing certain\nis, that inanimate matter cannot possibly possess or exercise any force\nor power whatever, so that, unless matter, although apparently dead, be\nreally alive, attraction, cohesion, gravitation, and all its other so\ncalled forces, being incompatible with dead inertness, must needs be\nmanifestations of some living, and possibly divine, power. Far from\nthere being any difficulty in conceiving Omnipresent Deity to be\nexhibiting its might in every speck of universal space in every instant\nof never-ending time, it is, on the contrary, impossible to conceive\notherwise. We cannot conceive one single minutest point in limitless\nextension to be for one moment exempt from the immediate control of a\ndivine nature assumed to be\n\n  Diffused throughout infinity's expanse\n  And co-existent with eternity.\n\nHere, indeed, we hasten to acknowledge with Hume that 'our line is too\nshort to fathom the immense abyss' which we have now reached. But we\nneed not, therefore, follow Hume to the lengths to which his insidious\nmock-modesty would fain entice us. We may concede to him that 'we have\nno idea of a Supreme Being but what we learn from reflection on our own\nfaculties,' but we need not imitate him by perversely shutting our eyes\nto the evidences of an energy inherent in our own faculties, and thereby\nentitle him to insist on our joining him in denying that there is any\nevidence of energy in the Supreme Being. We need not, because\nconstrained to admit that we know no more of the essence of divine, than\nwe do of human, power, pretend that we cannot even conceive such a thing\nas divine power. Hume's affectation of profound ignorance on the subject\nmust have occasioned unusual amusement in a certain quarter. The Devil\ncan seldom have had a more hearty grin at his darling sin than when\nwitnessing this peculiar exhibition of the pride that apes humility.\n\nThat Hume's ignorance was nothing but affectation is proved by his\nveering completely round immediately afterwards, and in his very next\nchapter, and almost in his very next page, pronouncing it to be\n'universally allowed that matter in all its operations is actuated by a\nnecessary force, and that every natural effect is so precisely\ndetermined by the energy of its cause that no other effect in such\nparticular circumstances could possibly have resulted from it.'\nThroughout the same chapter he argues in the same sense, and quite\nforgetting how obstinately he had just before contended that there are\nabsolutely no such things as connection or power at all, he defies any\none to 'define a cause without comprehending, as part of the definition,\n_necessary_ connection with its effect.' So highly, indeed, does he now\nrate that connecting power, whose very existence he had previously so\nvehemently denied, that he professes himself unable to set any limit to\nits efficacy. Even for those who should undertake to deduce from it the\nimpossibility of any liberty of human will, and consequently of any\nhuman responsibility, pleading that, inasmuch as with a continued chain\nof necessary causes, reaching from the first great cause of all to every\nseparate volition of every single human creature, it must needs be the\nCreator of the world who is the ultimate author of all volitions, and\nconsequently solely accountable for every crime which man commits, he\naffects, with exceedingly ill-sitting sanctimoniousness, to have no\nbetter answer than that such belief, being impious, must be absurd and\ncannot be true. It did not suit his purpose to point out that the\nvolitions of Omnipotence itself, equally with human volitions, are\nnecessary effects of causes--the causes in their case being the other\nattributes with which Omnipotence is conjoined--and that as it is\nnevertheless impossible for the volitions of Omnipotence to be otherwise\nthan absolutely free and uncontrolled, so there is no reason why human\nvolitions likewise should not, in spite of the same objection, be as\nthoroughly free as our own feelings assure us they are.\n\nHume's sudden conversion, so amazing at first sight, from flattest\ndenial to positivest assertion of causal power, becomes intelligible\nwhen he is seen immediately afterwards using his newly adopted creed as\na fulcrum whereon to rest his argumentative lever in his assault upon\nMiracles. About that celebrated piece of reasoning, startling as the\navowal may sound, there is, to my mind, nothing more remarkable than its\ncelebrity, for, on close inspection, it will be found to be entirely\nmade up of (1) the demonstration of a truism, and (2) the inculcation of\na confessedly misleading rule. Not far from its commencement will be\nfound a definition which, if correct, would leave nothing to dispute\nabout. A miracle, we are told, is 'a violation of the laws of nature,'\nof laws which a firm and unalterable experience has established. But if\nso, _cadit quaestio_. Of course, there can be no alteration of the\nunalterable. No need, of course, of further words to prove that a\nmiracle thus defined is an impossibility.\n\nLet us suppose, however, the word _unalterable_ to have been used here\nby a slip of the pen instead of _unaltered_, and that Hume really meant\nby a miracle any alteration of what had previously appeared to be the\nconstant course of nature. Even so, we shall have him contending that no\namount, however great, of testimony however unimpeachable, ought to be\naccepted as adequate proof of such an alteration. Of what he urges in\nsupport of this position much may be at once dismissed as altogether\nirrelevant. That the most honest witness may be the dupe of optical or\nauricular illusion, or of a distorting or magnifying imagination; that\nthere is in many minds a natural predisposition to believe in the\nmarvellous, and that the love of astonishing often gives exaggerated\nexpression to the exaggerations of the fancy; that self-interest and\nreligious zeal often furnish additional motives for mendacity, and that\ntestimony, even when sincere at first, is apt to become corrupted at\nevery stage as it passes from hand to hand, or is committed to\npaper--all this, together with any further enumeration of circumstances\ncalculated to invalidate testimony, is quite beside the real question.\nIt merely proves what no one needs to have proved, the propriety, viz.,\nof weighing evidence and balancing adverse probabilities; and even\nthough it proved in addition that of all the so-styled miracles on\nrecord, there is not a single one the evidence for which is sufficient,\nit would still prove nothing to the purpose. For Hume is arguing against\nthe credibility, not of any miracles in particular, but of all miracles\nin general, those included the witnesses for which are of indisputable\nintelligence and undisputed veracity. Be the quality of the testimony\nwhat it may, no quantity of it, according to him, can be sufficient.\nThis is the essence of his thesis, the only part of it in which there\nis any novelty, and in behalf of this part all that he has to say may be\nresolved into a sophism, followed by a repetition of the same begging of\nthe question, as is involved in his afore-cited definition of a miracle.\nIn substance it runs as follows. All testimony is at best but a\ndescription of the results of sensible experience--of observations of\nthe senses--but the most faithful description must needs be a less vivid\npresentation of truth than the reality described. A single original is\nbetter evidence than any number of copies. Your own personal experience\nis more trustworthy than any number of mere records of the experience of\nother people, and where the two conflict, the former always deserves\npreference. Now the personal experience of each one of us assures us\nthat many sets of natural phenomena take place in perfectly invariable\nsequences, in sequences so invariable as to appear to be, and to be\nfamiliarly spoken of as, manifestations or operations of certain\ninflexible laws of nature. Within our experience there has never been a\nsingle deviation from any such law. Wherefore, though all the rest of\nmankind should unite in asserting that they have observed such a\ndeviation, we ought not to believe them. Even though, for example--the\nexample, however, being not Hume's, but my own--we were, on leaving home\nsome morning, to hear on all sides that, while we were yet in bed, the\nsun was seen to rise in the west instead of the east, and though we\nfound the statement repeated in the 'Times' and 'Daily News,' and\npresently afterwards saw it posted up at the Exchange as having been\nflashed by electric wire from New York and Kurrachee, we are not for a\nmoment to doubt that these reiterated and mutually corroborative\nstatements are utterly false. For, numerous and consistent as they may\nbe, they are but copies of the experience of other people, while,\nalthough we may have to oppose to them only our own single experience,\nstill that single experience is original, and therefore of more worth.\nThe value, moreover, of any experience is, irrespective of originality,\ndetermined by the difference in number between the results of opposite\nkinds which it has discovered. The smaller number is deducted from the\nlarger, and the balance represents the probability that the results\nwhich have most frequently occurred hitherto will continue to occur\nhenceforward. The larger the deduction thus to be made, the smaller the\nprobability, and _vice versa_; and when the deduction is _nil_, or when\nthere has hitherto been complete uniformity, the probability becomes\nvirtual certainty. When two original experiences are opposed to each\nother, their respective values, ascertained in the same manner, are\ncompared, and trust is reposed in one or the other accordingly. Now,\naccording to these principles, difficult as it might be in the case\nsupposed for any one to conceive what motive all the rest of the world\ncould have for lying, it would be still more difficult to believe them\nto be speaking truth. For why do we ever believe anything that anyone\nsays? Why but because we have learnt by experience that, when people\nhave no apparent motive for lying, they commonly do speak the truth? But\nthe same experience which has taught us this has taught us likewise that\npeople do now and then lie without apparent motive. At best, therefore,\nthere is never more than a probability that people are speaking the\ntruth, while in this instance, the supposition that they might be\nspeaking the truth would imply that there may be a truth against which\nthere is proof amounting to certainty. For what they affirm is that\nsomething has happened the very reverse of what has invariably happened\nbefore in the same circumstances. Is it not infinitely more likely that\npeople should be lying as they have often done before, than that the\ninvariable course of nature should have undergone a variation? With\nevidence on the one side that has never yet deceived, with no evidence\non the other save what has often proved deceptive, how can we hesitate\nwhich to accept? Even though the unanimity of testimony be such as might\notherwise be deemed complete proof, it is here met by absolutely\ncomplete proof in the shape of a law of nature. The greater probability\noverwhelms the lesser. The stronger proof annihilates the weaker,\nleaving none of it behind, so that whoever still persists in believing\nthat a law of nature has been violated, must be content to do so without\none particle of proof. No quantity of testimony can furnish the smallest\nproof of a miracle unless the falsehood of the testimony would be a\ngreater departure from antecedent uniformity--in other words, would be a\ngreater miracle--than the miracle which it attests. Unfortunately it is\nbut too notorious that there is not, and never has been, such a thing as\nuniform truthfulness of testimony to depart from.\n\nSuch, unless most unintentionally injured by compression, is Hume's\nfamous argument against miracles, of which the author was sufficiently\nproud to boast openly that in it he had discovered what 'will be useful,\nas long as the world endures,' as 'an everlasting check to all kinds of\nsuperstitious delusion,' but which, as I nevertheless venture to repeat,\nis compounded in about equal moieties of transparent sophism and\nbaseless assumption. For is it not the veriest juggle of words to insist\non the necessary inferiority of copies to an original, without adverting\nto the indispensable proviso that the original with which the copies\nare compared should be the original from which the copies have been\ntaken? May not a copy of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'Last Supper' quite\npossibly be equal in force and vividness of expression to the original\npainting by Benjamin West bearing the same name? Might it not be wise to\ntrust rather to an Airy, or a De la Rue, or a Lockyer's account of what\nhe had observed during a solar eclipse than to your own immediate\nobservations on the same occasion? Besides, this first branch of Hume's\nargument, if sound, would tell quite as much for, as against, miracles,\nrendering it equally incumbent on actual witnesses to believe, as on all\nbut actual witnesses to disbelieve. If you are always to prefer your own\noriginal experience to mere descriptions given by other people of\ntheirs, then should it happen to be yourself to whom the sun appeared in\nthe west at an hour when, according to custom, he ought to have been in\nthe east, you are not to allow the protestations of any number of\npersons who, happening at the time to have been looking the other way,\nsaw the sun in his usual place, to persuade you that what you saw was a\nmock sun or an _ignis fatuus_. Rather than imagine that your own senses\ncan have deceived you, you are to suppose that all about you are in a\nleague to deceive you. For precisely the same reason for which you\nshould reject even universal testimony in favour of a miracle which you\nhave not witnessed, you are equally to reject universal testimony in\nopposition to a miracle the similitude of which you have witnessed.\n\nOr is it possible for a question to be more distinctly begged than when,\nto the question whether a miracle has occurred, it is answered that a\nmiracle is not a miracle unless there be uniform experience against it;\nthat uniformly adverse experience is direct and full proof against\nanything; and that therefore there must always be full proof against\nmiracles? What is here taken for granted to be full proof is the very\nthing requiring to be proved. If past uniformity really be a pledge for\ncontinued uniformity, of course there can be no departure from\nuniformity. If the whole question does not at once fall to the ground,\nit is because no question has ever really arisen. But what shadow of\npretext is there for treating an hitherto unvaried course of events as\nnecessarily invariable? From past experience we have deduced what we are\npleased to call _laws_ of nature, but it is morally impossible that we\ncan seriously think, whatever we are in the habit of saying, that these\nlaws are self-denying ordinances whereby nature's God has voluntarily\nabdicated part of His inalienable prerogative. The utmost efficacy we\nare warranted in ascribing to them is that of lines marking certain of\nthe courses within which God's providence is pleased to move. But how\ncan we pretend to know for how long a season such may continue to be the\ndivine pleasure? How do we know that the present season may not be the\nfirst of an alternating series, and that it may not at any moment\nterminate, and be succeeded by one of an opposite character? What though\nwe have some shadow of historical evidence that most physical phenomena\nhave been going on in much the same order for some six thousand years,\nis that a basis whereon to theorise with regard to the proceedings of\nHim in whose sight one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years\nas one day? Might not as well some scientific member of an insect tribe\nof ephemera, whom ancestral tradition, confirmed by personal experience,\nhad assured that an eight-day clock had already gone on for six days,\npronounce it to be a law of the clock's nature that it should go on for\never without being again wound up? Would the insect philosopher's\ndogmatism be one whit less absurd than that of those human ephemera who\nso positively lay down the law about the clockwork of the universe?\nThose laws of nature to which unerring regularity and perpetuity of\noperation are so confidently attributed, may they not, perchance, be but\nsingle clauses of much farther reaching laws, according to whose other\nprovisions the force of these isolated clauses may, in novel\ncombinations of circumstances, be counteracted by some latent and\nhitherto unsuspected force? Or is it not, at all events, open to their\ndivine promulgator to suspend their operation at his pleasure? May it\nnot conceivably have been preordained that the globe of our earth, after\nrevolving for a given number of ages, in one direction, shall then, like\na meat-jack, or like an Ascidian's heart,[31] reverse its order of\nprocedure, and commence a contrary series of revolutions? Or might not\nHe who prescribed to the earth its rotatory movement, will that the\nrotation should for some hours cease, and that the sun should in\nconsequence seem to stand still, as it is recorded to have done at the\ncommand of Joshua? Improbable as these suppositions may be, who that has\nnot been taken into counsel by his Creator can presume to say that they\nmay not be correct? The events which they involve are not inconceivable,\nand whatever is not utterly inconceivable may possibly occur, however\nnumerous the chances against its occurrence. It is not then the fact\nthat 'past experience,' however unvaried, affords full proof of the\nfuture existence of any event, or constitutes certainty against the\nfuture existence of the reverse of that event. Completest uniformity of\nexperience cannot create a certainty by which any opposite probability\nwould be completely annihilated. It only creates a probability which,\nhowever great, is still only a probability, and which would become a\nsmaller probability by deduction from it of any opposite probability.\nBut mere probability, however great, always includes some doubt as to\nits own correctness, some suspicion that its opposite may possibly be\ncorrect. How much soever, therefore, uniform experience may vouch for\nthe inviolability of natural laws, it always remains possible for those\nlaws to be violated, and, as miracles are nothing else but violations of\nnatural laws, it always remains possible for miracles to happen. But\nsince miracles are possible, testimony to their occurrence may, with\nequal possibility, be true, and no further refutation can, I submit, be\nneeded for an argument which insists that all such testimony should be\nset aside without enquiry as self-evidently false.\n\nHad Hume been content to insist that testimony in favour of miracles\nshould never be received without extreme doubt and hesitation, his\nlesson might well have passed without further objection than that of its\nbeing superfluous for any one with sense enough to profit by it. Nor\nmight it have been easy to discover a flaw in his logic, although he had\ngone so far as to maintain that no one of the miracles as yet on record\nis either adequately attested, or would, even if it had undoubtedly\noccurred, afford sufficient evidence of any religious truth. The best\nand only adequate evidence for any religious creed is the satisfaction\nwhich it affords to the soul's cravings and promises to the soul's\naspirations; and no rational Christian would be at all the more disposed\nto turn Mussulman, even though it should be demonstrated to his entire\nconviction that Christ did not raise Lazarus from the dead, and that\nMahomet did turn the hill Safa into gold, instead of prudently confining\nhimself to boasting that he could have effected the transmutation if he\nhad thought proper. But for the purpose which Hume had in view, it was\nnecessary to establish, not merely the doubtfulness, but the absolute\nfalsehood of the miracular testimony on which, in his opinion, 'our holy\nreligion' rests, in order that the character of the superstructure being\ninferred from that of the foundation, both might be condemned together.\nThere is, however, an irreligious as well as a religious fanaticism,\nand, though it is difficult, while looking at Hume's portrait, to credit\nthe owner of that plump, good-humoured face with feeling of any sort\nwarm enough to be termed fanatical, it is humiliating to note from his\nexample into what strange inconsistency the coolest and calmest judgment\nmay be warped by irreligious prejudice. Having not long before, in order\nto disparage _natural_ religion, emphatically denied the existence of\nany causal connection between successive events, he now, in order\nequally to discredit the very possibility of _revealed_ religion,\ntacitly assumes that same connection, not simply to exist, but to be of\nan efficacy which no disturbing forces can impair. Admitting that 'the\nIndian prince who refused to believe the first relations concerning the\neffects of frost' was wrong in his belief, Hume will have it that the\nprince nevertheless 'reasoned justly.' Although recognising truth to be\nthe sole worthy object of quest, he yet enjoins rigid adherence to a\nrule which he is aware must inevitably lead to frequent error.\n\nRather strikingly contrasted, in respect of execution, with Hume's\nchapter on Miracles, comes the one next in order on a Providence and a\nFuture State, which, for the skill with which the fallacy involved in it\nis disguised, may be regarded as quite a masterpiece of false reasoning.\nAmong its leading propositions there is but one which does not command\nimmediate assent. That we can argue but from what we know; that of\ncauses, known to us only by their effects, our estimate ought to be\nexactly proportioned to the effects; that of a Creator manifested only\nby His works, no higher qualities, no greater degrees of power,\nintelligence, justice, or benevolence, can be confidently\npredicated--whatever be conjectured--than are apparent in his\nworkmanship: all this, on one moment's reflection, is perceived to be\nindisputable. Needs must it be, however reluctantly, admitted that\nnothing can be more illogical than to return back to the cause, and\ninfer from it other effects beyond those by which alone it is known to\nus, or to infer from creative attributes, distinctly manifested, the\nexistence of other and not apparent attributes, endowed with some\nefficacy additional to that possessed by the former. But does it hence\nfollow that faith in a superintending Providence is so mere a matter of\n'conceit and imagination,' a faith so absolutely irrational as Hume\nconsidered it? A candid examination of God's works will warrant us in\ncoming to a widely different conclusion. Among those works is man--a\nbeing who, in spite of the utter insignificance of his greatest\n_performances_, is capable of forming most exalted _conceptions_ of\njustice, benevolence, and goodness in general, and of feeling the most\neager desire to act up to his own ideal. If the divine notions of\ngoodness in its several varieties be not identical with the human, it\ncan only be because they are superior; and so, too, of the divine love\nof, and zeal for, goodness. It cannot be that the Creator is inferior to\nthe creature in virtues which the creature derives from Him alone.\nDemonstrably, therefore, God is good and just in the very highest degree\nin which those qualities can be conceived by man. Demonstrably, too,\nsince the universe is the work of His hands, He must be possessed of\npower which, if not necessarily unbounded, is at least as boundless as\nthe universe. Thus, rigidly arguing from effects to causes, and\nscrupulously proportioning the one to the other, man sees imaged on the\nface of creation a creator, both realising his highest conception of\ngoodness, and wielding measureless might. Is not such a being worthy to\nbe looked up to, and confided in, and adored and loved as a\nsuperintending providence? Is not faith in such a providence not simply\nnot irrational, but the direct result of a strictly inductive process?\nAnd would it be an irrational stretch of faith sanguinely to hope, if\nnot implicitly to believe, that an union of infinite justice with\nmeasureless might may, in some future stage of existence, afford\ncompensation for the apparently inequitable distribution of good and\nevil which, according to all experience, has hitherto taken place among\nhuman beings?\n\nWere it desirable to amplify the apology with which this paper\ncommenced, some additional justification of the freedom of the\nforegoing criticisms might be found in hints thrown out by Hume in\nvarious parts of the treatise which we have been examining, and\nparticularly in its concluding chapter, that in many of his most\nstartling doctrines he was but half in earnest. Hume's temperament, too\ncool for fanaticism, had yet in it enough of a certain tepid geniality\nto save him from becoming a scoffer. The character which he claims for\nhimself, and somewhat ostentatiously parades, is that of a sceptic or\ngeneral doubter--a character in which, when rightly understood, there is\nnothing to be ashamed of. To take nothing on trust, to believe nothing\nwithout proof, to show no greater respect for authority than may consist\nin attentive and candid examination of its statements, to accept only\nverified facts as bases for reasoning on matters of fact and\nexistence--these are golden rules of philosophical research, principles\nin which lies the secret of all real progress in any of the higher\ndepartments of science. By Hume they were adopted _con amore_, and with\nkeen appreciation, not more of their practical utility, than of the\nsport which he perceived them to be capable of yielding. His serious\npurpose was to unmask the numberless pretences which in politics,\npolitical economy, metaphysics, morals, and theology he found\nuniversally current as gospel truths; to expose the ambiguity and\ncontradictions latent in popular thought, and in the popular forms of\nexpression which are so apt to be mistaken for thought, and to indicate\nthe only safe mode of investigation and the only trustworthy tests of\ngenuine knowledge; his favourite amusement to put time-honoured\ncommonplaces on the rack, and demanding their _raison d'etre_, to pass\non them summary sentence of extinction if they failed to account\nsatisfactorily for their existence. Unfortunately, in his keen\nenjoyment of the fun of the thing, he not unfrequently overlooked the\nsolid interests at stake. Like a huntsman who, for the sake of a better\nrun, should outrace his quarry, or who, seeing that the dogs were close\nupon the hare, should, in order to prolong the chase, start a fresh\nhare, kept till then snug at his saddle-bow, so Hume, in the excitement\nof metaphysical pursuit, instead of stopping to gather up whatever\nverified affirmations came in his way, would prefer to follow any new\nnegation that he espied, or, if momentarily accepting any affirmation as\nestablished, would proceed forthwith to affirm its direct opposite with\nthe view of neutralising both. In this, his practice resembled that of\nmetaphysicians in general, who take a singular delight in setting\nthemselves riddle after riddle, which they either assume to be\nhopelessly insoluble, or which they no sooner solve than they use the\nsolution as the subject of another riddle involving its predecessor in\nredoubled perplexity. Now, little harm, and little, perhaps, of anything\nbut good, might thereby be done if the lovers of this game were content\nto play it by themselves, without inviting others to join who are\nconstitutionally unfit for such intellectual wrestling. But mental\nexercises may to philosophers be health and invigorating sport, and yet\nbe death to the multitude; and Hume, as an Utilitarian, stands\nself-condemned for making ordinary people uncomfortable by challenging\nthem to disputations confessedly leading no whither, and bewildering\nthem with confessedly 'vain and profane babblings, and strivings after\nwords to no profit, but to subverting of the hearers, and overthrow of\nthe faith of some.' And it is as poor an excuse for this wanton\ntampering with other people's creeds, as it is poor amends for its\nmischievous consequences, that Hume offers when, after watching for a\nwhile his puzzled disciples blown about by the winds of adverse doctrine\nthat he has let loose upon them, he proceeds to rally them on their\n'whimsical condition,' which he speaks of as a mere laughing matter got\nup chiefly for amusement. It is only an aggravation of offence that,\nwhile, on the one hand, he solemnly pronounces everything to be 'a\nriddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery,' he, on the other hand,\ncheerily exhorts us not to suffer the 'doubts raised by philosophy to\naffect our actions.' 'Nature,' he says, 'is always too strong for\nprinciples, will always maintain her rights, and prevail, in the end,\nagainst all reasoning whatever.' 'The great subverter of Pyrrhonism,' he\ncontinues, 'is actual employment and the occupations of common life,' in\npresence of which its overstrained scruples 'vanish like smoke.'\nAlthough real knowledge consists solely in knowing that we know nothing,\nand in doubting everything, and although sceptics may 'justly triumph'\nin principles which lead them to deny even the attraction of\ngravitation, still they had better beware how they act on these\nprinciples, lest by stepping unconcernedly out of window they come\nfatally to grief on the stones below, and so the sect and its tenets be\nannihilated together. So, or to such effect, Hume: but how can there be\njust ground for pride in speculations which, as their own professors\nadmit, would, on the first attempt to reduce them to practice, be\nshattered to pieces by hard facts? That cannot possibly, even on Hume's\nrecommendation, be accepted as metaphysical truth, which flatly\ncontradicts common sense, nor can there be any unbecoming\nself-confidence in seeking, even though Hume pronounce the search\nhopeless, for metaphysical truth, with which common sense may be\nreconciled.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[29] Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind. By James Mill. Edition\nof 1869, with Notes by Alexander Bain, Andrew Findlater, George Grote,\nand John Stuart Mill, vol. i. pp. 78 _et seq._\n\n[30] Mill's 'Logic.' 5th Edition. Vol. i. p. 377.\n\n[31] 'There is a class of animals called Ascidians, which possess a\nheart and a circulation, and up to the year 1824 no one would have\ndreamt of questioning the propriety of the deduction, that these\ncreatures have a circulation in one definite and invariable direction;\nnor would any one have thought it worth while to verify the point. But\nin that year M. von Hasselt, happening to examine a transparent animal\nof this class, found to his infinite surprise that after the heart had\nbeat a certain number of times, it stopped, and then began beating the\nopposite way, so as to reverse the course of the current, which returned\nby-and-by to its original direction.'--_Huxley's Lay Sermons_, p. 95.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n_HUXLEYISM._\n\n  '_A force d'esprit tout lui paroit matiere._'\n\n\nIn one of his interesting 'Lay Sermons,' the most interesting perhaps of\nthe whole interesting series, Professor Huxley, taking for his theme the\n'Physical Basis of Life,' combats 'the widely-spread conception of life\nas a something which works through matter, but is independent of it;'\naffirming, on the contrary, 'that matter and life are inseparably\nconnected, and that there is one kind of matter which is common to all\nliving beings.' The preacher may be safely allowed to have\nsatisfactorily made out the second portion of this affirmation. With his\nown singular felicity of illustration, he shows how all vegetable and\nanimal tissues, without exception, from that of the brightly coloured\nlichen looking so like a mere mineral incrustation on the rock that\nbears it, to that of the painter who admires or the botanist who\ndissects it, are, however diverse in aspect, essentially one in\ncomposition and structure. He explains how the microscopic fungi\nclustering by millions within the body of a single fly, the giant pine\nof California towering to the height of a cathedral spire, the Indian\nfig-tree covering acres with its profound shadow, the animalcules of\nocean's lowest deep, minute enough to dance in myriads on the point of a\nneedle, and the Finner whale, hugest of beasts, that disports its ninety\nfeet of bone and blubber on ocean's billowy heights, the flower that a\ngirl wears in her hair, and the blood that courses through her veins,\nare, each and all, smaller or larger multiples or aggregates of one and\nthe same structural unit, which, again, is invariably resolvable into\nthe same identical elements. That unit, he tells us, is an atom or\ncorpuscle composed of oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and carbon, which, and\nwhich alone, seem to be required by nature for laying withal the\nfoundations of vitality, inasmuch as no substance from which any one of\nthese ingredients is totally absent, ever exhibits any sign of life,\nwhile, on the other hand, not only are these four ingredients sufficient\nof themselves to form a substance capable of living, but they actually\ndo with very little (when any) foreign admixture, form all substances\nwhatsoever that are ever found vivified. All such substances, he informs\nus, are but varieties of _protoplasm_, differing indeed from each other\nin texture, colour, and general appearance, even as a diamond differs\nfrom granite, yet all being equally protoplasm, just as a diamond and a\nblock of granite are equally stones, or as heart of oak and the outer\ncase of a nettle's sting are equally wood. The human ovum, he gives us\nto understand, is in its earliest stage but a single particle of\nprotoplasm; the human foetus but an aggregation of such particles,\nvariously modified; the human body perfectly matured, but a larger\naggregation of such particles still further modified.\n\nHe proceeds to point out, as following from these premises, that a\nsolution of smelling salts, together with an infinitesimal quantity of\ncertain other salts, contains all the elements that enter into the\ncomposition of protoplasm, and consequently of whatever substance the\nvery highest animal requires for sustenance. He does not, however,\nleave us to suppose that any abundance of the fluid in question would\navail aught to save a hungry creature of any sort from starving, but\ncontinues his exposition to the following effect. Not only is there no\nanimal, there is not even any vegetable organism, to which the elements\nof food can serve as food, as long as they remain elementary. It is\nindispensable that hydrogen and oxygen should combine to form water,\nnitrogen and hydrogen to form ammonia, carbon and oxygen to form\ncarbonic acid; and even then, even at a table groaning under whole\nhogsheads of these primitive compounds, there is no single animal that\nwould not find itself at a Barmecide feast. There are many plants\nlikewise, which in the midst of such uncongenial plenty would be equally\nwithout a drop to drink; but there are also multitudes of others which,\nwithout the aid of any more elaborated nutriment, would be able to grow\ninto a million, nay million million fold of their original bulk.\nProvided there be in the seed or germ of any of these latter one single\nparticle of living protoplasm to begin with, that single particle may\nconvert into animated protoplasm an indefinite quantity of inanimate\nammonia, carbonic acid, and water. The protoplasm thus created in the\nfirst instance, and created, let us suppose, in the form of a lichen or\na fungus, is converted by decay into vegetable mould, in which grass may\ntake root and grow, and which, in that case, will be converted into\nherbaceous protoplasm; which, being eaten by sheep or oxen, becomes\novine or bovine protoplasm, commonly called mutton or beef; which,\nagain, being eaten by man, becomes human protoplasm, and, if eaten by a\nphilosopher, becomes part of a mass of protoplasm capable of\ninvestigating and of expounding in lectures or lay sermons, the changes\nwhich itself and its several components have undergone.\n\nSo far we advance with willing steps like dutiful disciples along the\npath of knowledge indicated by our distinguished biological teacher, who\nhere, however, pulls us up short by suddenly intimating that he sees no\nbreak in the series of transubstantiations whereby precisely such\noxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbon as he is lecturing upon, have\nbecome metamorphosed into him, the lecturer, and us, the lectured\naudience, and cannot 'understand why the language which is applicable to\nany one term of the series should not be used in regard to any of the\nothers.' Oxygen and hydrogen, he reminds us, are gases, whose particles,\nat and also much below 32 deg. Fahrenheit, tend to rush away from each other\nwith great force; and this tendency we call a property of each gas. Let\noxygen and hydrogen be mixed in certain proportions, and an electric\nspark passed through them, and they will disappear, and a quantity of\nwater equal in weight to the sum of their weights will appear in their\nplace. But amongst the properties of the water will be some, the direct\nopposites of those of its components; watery particles, for example, at\nany temperature not higher than 32 deg. Fahrenheit, tending not to rush\nasunder, but to cohere into definite geometrical shapes or to build up\nfrosty imitations of vegetable foliage. And let the water be brought\ninto conjunction with ammonia and carbonic acid, and the three will,\nunder certain conditions, give rise to protoplasm, which again, if\nsubjected to a certain succession of processes, will rise by successive\nstages from protoplasm that gives no other signs of life than those of\nfeeding and reproducing its kind, to protoplasm endowed with the power\nof spontaneous motion, and finally to protoplasm that thinks and\nreasons, speculates and philosophises. Now why should any of the various\nphenomena of life exhibited by these varieties of protoplasm be supposed\nto be of a different class from the appearances of activity exhibited by\nany of the varieties of lifeless matter? What reason is there why, for\ninstance, thought should not be termed a property of thinking\nprotoplasm, just as congelation is a property of water, and\ncentrifugience of gas? Professor Huxley protests that he is aware of no\nreason. We call, he says, the several strange phenomena which are\npeculiar to water, 'the properties of water, and do not hesitate to\nbelieve that in some way or other they result from the properties of the\ncomponent elements of water. We do not assume that something called\n_aquosity_ entered into and took possession of the oxide of hydrogen as\nsoon as it was formed, and then guided the aqueous particles to their\nplaces in the facets of the crystal or among the leaflets of the hoar\nfrost. On the contrary, we live in the hope and faith that, by the\nadvance of molecular physics, we shall by-and-by be able to see our way\nas clearly from the constituents of water to the properties of water, as\nwe are now able to deduce the operations of a watch from the form of its\nparts or the manner in which they are put together.' Why, then, when\ncarbonic acid, water, and ammonia disappear, and an equivalent weight of\nthe matter of life makes its appearance in their place, should we assume\nthe existence in the living matter of a something which has no\nrepresentative or correlative in the unliving matter that gave rise to\nit? Why imagine that into the newly formed hydro-nitrogenised oxide of\ncarbon a something called vitality entered and took possession? 'What\nbetter philosophical status has vitality than aquosity?' 'If scientific\nlanguage is to possess a definite and constant signification, we are,'\nhe considers, 'logically bound to apply to protoplasm or the physical\nbasis of life the same conceptions as those which are held to be\nlegitimate elsewhere.' Wherefore, he concludes, that 'if the phenomena\nexhibited by water are its properties, so are those presented by\nprotoplasm _its_ properties,' and that if it be correct to describe 'the\nproperties of water as resulting from the nature and disposition of its\ncomponent molecules,' there can be no 'intelligible ground for refusing\nto say that the properties of protoplasm result from the nature and\ndisposition of its molecules.'\n\nHere, however, our lay preacher candidly warns us that by the vast\nmajority of his clerical brethren this doctrine would be denounced as\nrankest heresy, and that whoever accepts it is placing his foot on the\nfirst rung of a ladder which, in most people's estimation, is the\n'reverse of Jacob's, and leads to the antipodes of heaven.' He frankly\nowns that the terms of his propositions are distinctly materialistic:\nnay, that whoever commits himself to them will be temporarily landed in\n'gross materialism.' Not the less, however, does he, mingling\nconsolation with admonition, recommend us to plunge boldly into the\nmaterialistic slough, promising to point out a way of escape from it,\nand insisting, indeed, that through it lies the only path to genuine\nspiritualistic truth.\n\nIn pronouncing this to be exceedingly evil counsel, as with the most\nunfeigned respect for its author I feel bound at once to do, it might\nnot be necessary for me to undertake a detailed topographical survey of\nthe path alluded to. It might, perhaps, suffice to specify the\nconclusions to which the path is represented as leading, in order to\nshow that those conclusions cannot possibly be reached by any such\nroute. By Professor Huxley himself they are thus described:--We know\nnothing of matter 'except as a name for the unknown and hypothetical\ncause of states of our own consciousness,' nor of spirit, except that\n'it also is a name for an unknown and hypothetical cause of states of\nconsciousness. In other words matter and spirit are but names for the\nimaginary _substrata_ of groups of natural phenomena.'\n\nBut if matter be not a thing, but a name, and a name too not for a real,\nbut only an imaginary thing, one perfect certainty is that matter cannot\npossibly be composed either wholly or in part of molecules, and, by\nnecessary consequence, that life cannot possibly be 'the product of any\ndisposition of material molecules,' nor the phenomena of life be\n'expressions of molecular changes in the matter of life.' Of the\nparticular Huxleian doctrine which we are considering, the two moieties\nare absolutely irreconcileable; so that on the assumption that either\nmoiety were true, the truth of that moiety would be decisive against the\nother. If matter have no real, and only a nominal existence, life, which\nis undeniably a reality, cannot be a property of matter. If life, being\nan undisputed reality, be a property of matter, matter must needs be a\nreality also, and not merely a name. Any one, however, who, like myself,\nis thoroughly convinced that both halves of the doctrine are equally and\nutterly erroneous, is precluded from employing one for the refutation of\nthe other, and in order to prove, as I shall now attempt to do, that\nlife is in no sense either a product or a property of matter, must\nresort for the purpose to independent reasoning.\n\nI commence by defining one of the principal terms occurring in the\ndebate. When in scientific discourse we speak of anything as a property\nof an object, we mean thereby not simply that it is a thing belonging to\nthe object, but also that it is a thing without which the object could\nnot subsist. We mean that it is one of the constituents inherent in and\ninseparable from the object, whose union gives to the object its\ndistinctive character. When we call fluidity at one temperature,\nsolidity at another, and vaporisation at a third, properties of water,\nwe mean that matter which did not liquefy, congeal, and evaporate at\ndifferent temperatures would not be water. The habits of exhibiting\nthese phenomena, in conjunction with certain other habits, make up the\naquosity or wateriness of water. They are parts of water's nature, and,\nin the absence of any one of them, water would not be its own self, and\ncould not exist. But in no such sense, nor in any sense whatever, is the\nlife or vitality whereby what we are accustomed to call animated are\ndistinguished from inanimate objects, essential to the existence of the\nspecies of matter termed matter of life or protoplasm. Take from water\nits aquosity, and water ceases to be water; but you may take away\nvitality from protoplasm, and yet leave protoplasm as much protoplasm as\nbefore. Vitality, therefore, evidently bears to protoplasm a quite\ndifferent relation from that which aquosity bears to water. Protoplasm\ncan do perfectly well without the one, but water cannot for a moment\ndispense with the other. Protoplasm, whether living or lifeless, is\nequally itself; but unaqueous water is unmitigated gibberish. But if\nprotoplasm, although deprived of its vitality, still remains protoplasm,\nvitality plainly is not indispensable to protoplasm, is not therefore a\n_property_ of protoplasm.\n\nAnd that it is not a _product_ of protoplasm, or a result of any\nparticular arrangement of protoplasmic particles or molecules, is not\nless easily or unanswerably demonstrable. For if it were, as long as the\nparticular molecular arrangement remained unaltered, life would\nnecessarily be in attendance; an amputated joint would, until\ndecomposition set in, be as much alive as the trunk from which it had\nbeen lopped, even as water poured from a jug into a glass is quite as\nmuch liquid as the water remaining in the jug. There would be no such\nthing as dead meat, which was not putrid as well as dead, any more than\nwater can freeze without changing from a fluid to a solid; and there\nwould moreover be production antecedent in origin to its own producer.\nThe force of the last at least of these objections is not to be\nresisted. Water, ammonia, and carbonic acid cannot, it is admitted,\ncombine to form protoplasm, unless a principle of life preside over the\noperation. Unless under those auspices the combination never takes\nplace. At present, whenever assuming its presidential functions, the\nprinciple of life seems to be invariably embodied in a portion of\npre-existing protoplasm; but there certainly was a time when the fact\nwas otherwise. Time was, as geology places beyond all doubt, when our\nglobe and its appurtenances consisted wholly of inorganic matter, and\npossessed not one single animal or vegetable inhabitant. In order, then,\nthat any protoplasm or the substance of any organism should have been\nbrought into existence in the first instance, life plainly must have\nbeen already existent. It must at one time have been possible for life,\nwithout being previously embodied, to mould and vivify inert matter;\nand it must needs have been by unembodied life that inorganic matter was\nfirst organised and animated. There is no possible alternative to this\nconclusion, except that of supposing that death may have given birth to\nlife--that absolutely lifeless and inert matter may have spontaneously\nexerted itself with all the marvellous energy requisite for its\nconversion into living matter, exerting for the purpose powers which,\nunder the conditions of the case, it could not have acquired without\nexercising before it acquired them. Whoever declines to swallow such\nabsurdity has no choice but to admit that unembodied life must have been\nthe original manufacturer of protoplasm: but to admit this, and yet to\nsuppose that when now-a-days embodied life is observed to give birth to\nnew embodied life, the credit of the operation belongs not to the life\nitself but to its protoplasmic embodiment, is much the same as to\nsuppose that when a tailor, dressed in clothes of his own making, makes\na second suit of clothes, this latter is the product not of the tailor\nhimself but of the clothes he is wearing.\n\nThus, irrespectively of whatever grounds there may be for believing that\nlife still _does_, it is incontestable that life once _did_, exist apart\nfrom protoplasm; and that protoplasm both may and continually does exist\napart from what is commonly understood by life, must be obvious to every\none who is aware that protoplasm is the substance of which all plants\nand all animals are composed, and has observed also that plants and\nanimals are in the habit of dying. That matter and life are inseparably\nconnected cannot, therefore, it would seem, be asserted except in total\ndisregard of the teachings both of reason and observation, and 'the\npopular conception of life as a something which works through matter but\nis independent of it,' would seem to be as true as it is popular. If\nthe only choice allowed to us be between 'the old notion of an Archaeus\ngoverning and directing blind matter,' and the new conception of life as\nthe product of a certain disposition of material molecules, the absolute\ncertainty that the latter conception is wrong, may be fairly urged as\nequivalent to certainty, equally absolute, that the former notion is\nright.\n\nHow far soever it may be true that, as Professor Huxley says, 'the\nprogress of physical science means, and has in all ages meant, the\nextension of the province of matter and causation,' it is certainly not\ntrue that, as he proceeds to predict, the same province will ever be\nextended sufficiently to banish from the region of human thought not\n'spontaneity' simply, but likewise 'spirit.' In one direction at least,\nlimits are clearly discernible which scientific investigation need not\nhope to overleap. How much soever we may eventually discover of the\nchanges whereby inorganic matter becomes gradually adapted for the\nreception of life, physical science can never teach us what or whence is\nthe life that eventually takes possession of the finished receptacle.\nPossibly we at length may, as Professor Huxley doubts not that we\nby-and-by shall, see how it is that the properties peculiar to water\nhave resulted from the properties peculiar to the gases whose junction\nconstitutes water; and similarly how the characteristic properties of\nprotoplasm have sprung from properties in the water, ammonia, and\ncarbonic acid that have united to form protoplasm; but knowing all this,\nwe shall not be a hair's breadth nearer to the more recondite knowledge\nup to which it is expected to lead. To extract the genesis of life from\nany data that completest acquaintance with the stages and processes of\nprotoplasmic growth can furnish, is a truly hopeless problem. Given\nthe plan of a house, with samples of its brick and mortar, to find the\nname and nationality of the householder, would be child's play in\ncomparison. Life, as we have seen, is not the offspring of protoplasm,\nbut something which has been superinduced upon, and may be separated\nfrom, the protoplasm that serves as its material basis. It is,\ntherefore, distinct from the matter which it animates, and, being thus\nimmaterial, cannot possibly become better known by any analysis of\nmatter.\n\nOf this emphatically vital question Professor Huxley, as has been\nalready intimated, takes a diametrically opposite view. He does not\nmerely, in sufficiently explicit terms, deny that there is any intrinsic\ndifference between matter and spirit, and affirm the two to be, in spite\nof appearances, essentially identical. If this were all, I at any rate\nshould not be entitled to object, for I shall myself presently have\noccasion to use very similar language, although attaching to it a widely\ndifferent meaning from that with which it is used by Professor Huxley.\nBut the latter goes on to avow his belief that the human body, like\nevery other living body, is a machine, all the operations of which will\nsooner or later be explained on physical principles, insomuch that we\nshall eventually arrive at a mechanical equivalent of consciousness,\neven as we have already arrived at a mechanical equivalent of heat. He\nconsiders that with the same propriety with which the amount of heat\nwhich a pound weight produces by falling through the distance of a foot,\nmay be called its equivalent in one sense, may the amount of feeling\nwhich the pound produces by falling through a foot of distance on a\ngouty big toe, be called its equivalent in another sense, to wit, that\nof consciousness. Yet he protests against these tenets being deemed\nmaterialistic, which, he declares, they certainly neither are nor can\nbe, for that while he himself certainly holds them, he as certainly is\nnot himself a materialist. Professor Huxley is among the last to be\nsuspected of talking anything, as Monsieur Jourdain did prose, without\nknowing it. He knows perfectly well that he has here been talking\nmaterialism, but he insists that his materialism is only another form of\nidealism. He seeks to evade the seemingly inevitable deduction from his\npremises by representing both matter and spirit as mere names, and\nnames, too, not for real things, but for fanciful hypotheses which may\nbe spoken of indifferently in materialistic or in spiritualistic terms,\nthought in the one case being treated as a form of matter, and matter in\nthe other as a form of thought. The identity of matter and spirit is, in\nshort, represented by him as consisting in this: that the existence of\nboth is merely nominal, or at best merely ideal.\n\nOrdinary folk may perhaps be somewhat slow to derive from this\ncompromising theory all the comfort which its author deems it capable of\naffording. Most of us may, probably, be inclined to think that we might\nas well have been left to fret in the frying-pan of materialism as be\ncast headlong into idealistic fire, to no better end than that of being\nthere fused body and soul together, and sublimated into inapprehensible\nnothingness. Our immediate concern, however, is not with the\npleasantness of the theory, but with its truth; in proceeding to test\nwhich we shall probably find that there is as little warrant for\nidealising matter after this fashion as we have already seen that there\nis for materialising mind.\n\nThe originator of the theory about to be examined, or rather, perhaps,\nof a somewhat different theory out of which this has been developed--not\nto say perverted--may, without much inaccuracy, be pronounced to be\nDescartes. He it was who, perceiving that we are surrounded on all sides\nby illusions of all sorts, that not only is there no authority or\ntestimony implicitly to be depended on, but that our senses likewise\noften play the traitor, and that we can never be perfectly sure whether\nwe are really seeing, hearing, or feeling, or merely thinking or\ndreaming that we see, hear, or feel, and looking anxiously around for\none single point at least on which complete confidence might be placed,\ndiscovered such a point in thought. Whatever else we may doubt about, we\ncannot, he justly argued, doubt that there are thoughts. If it were\npossible to doubt this, our very doubt would be thought, constituting\nand presenting as evidence the very existence doubted of. Our thoughts,\nthen, are unquestionably real existences. They may be delusive, but they\ncannot possibly be fictitious.\n\nWe may perhaps hereafter have occasion to note how Descartes, having\nthus secured one firm foothold and solid resting-place, outwent the\nfarthest stretch of Archimedean ambition by using it, not as a fulcrum\nfrom whence to move the world, but as a site for logical foundations\nwhereon he might, if he had persevered, have raised the superstructure\nof an universe at once mental and material.[32] Intermediately, however,\nwe have to observe how two pre-eminent disciples of the Cartesian\nschool have perverted the fundamental proposition of their great master\nby treating its converse as its synonyme. Descartes having demonstrated\nthat all thought is existence, Bishop Berkeley and Professor Huxley\ninfer that all existence is thought. So says the Professor in so many\nwords, and to precisely the same effect is the more diffuse language of\nthe Bishop, where, speaking of 'all the choir of heaven and furniture of\nearth, of all the bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world,'\nhe declares that their _esse_ is _percipi_, that their 'being' consists\nin their being 'perceived or known,' and that unless they were actually\nperceived by, or existed in, some created or uncreate mind, they could\nnot possibly exist at all.\n\nThe reasoning in support of these assertions is in substance as\nfollows:--We know nothing of any material object except by the\nsensations which it produces in our minds. What we are accustomed to\ncall the _qualities_ of an object are nothing else but the mental\nsensations of various kinds which the object produces within us. Some of\nthese qualities, such as extension, figure, solidity, motion, and\nnumber, are classed as primary; others, as, for instance, smell, taste,\ncolour, sound, as secondary. Now that these latter have no existence\napart from mind can readily be shown thus. If I prick my finger with a\nneedle, the pain I suffer in consequence is surely in myself, not in the\nneedle, nor anywhere else but in myself. If an orange be placed on my\nopen hand, my sensation of touching it is in myself, not in the orange.\nIf the orange could feel, what it would feel would be a hand, while what\nI am feeling is an orange. Nor are my sensations of pain and touch\nmerely confined to myself; they are also confined to a particular part\nof myself, viz., to the brain, the seat of my consciousness, which it\nis, and not the finger or hand, that really feels when the one is hurt,\nor when anything comes in harmless contact with the other. To prove\nthis, let the fine nervous threads, which, running up the whole length\nof the arm, connect the skin of the finger with the spinal marrow and\nbrain, be cut through close to the spinal cord, and no pain will be\nfelt, whatever injury be done: while if the ends which remain in\nconnection with the cord be pricked, the sensation of pricking in the\nfinger will arise just as distinctly as before. Or let a walking-stick\nbe held firmly by the handle, and its other end be touched, and the\ntactile sensation will be experienced as if at the end of the stick,\nwhere, however, it plainly cannot be. It is the mind alone which feels,\nbut which, by a peculiar faculty of localisation or extradition, seems\nto remove a feeling exclusively its own, not only to the outside of\nitself, but to the outside also of the walls of its fleshly tenement.\nAnd as it is with pain or touch, so it is with every sensation with\nwhich any of the so-called secondary qualities of matter are identical.\nIf I look at, or smell, or taste a blood orange, the sensation of\ncolour, or scent, or flavour I receive is entirely and exclusively my\nown, the orange remaining quite unconscious of its own redness, or\nfragrance, or sweetness, and not, indeed, possessing in itself any real\nqualities of the kind. For to take redness as an example; how does the\nsensation of it or of any other colour arise? The waves of a certain\nvery attenuated medium, the particles of which are vibrating with vast\nrapidity but with very different velocities, strike upon an object and\nare thrown off in all directions. Of the particles which vibrate with\nany particular velocity, some are gathered by the optical apparatus of\nthe eye, and deflected so as to impinge on the retina and on the fibres\nof the optic nerve therewith connected, producing in these fibres a\nchange which is followed by other changes in the brain, which, again, by\nvirtue of some inscrutable union between the brain and the mind, create\na feeling or consciousness of colour. What the particular colour shall\nbe, depends either on the rate of motion in the vibrating medium or on\nthe character of the retina; and if, while the former remained the same,\nthe other were to be altered, or if two persons, with differently formed\nretinas, and one of the two colour-blind, were to be looking, what had\nfirst seemed red might now seem green, or what seemed red to one\nspectator might seem green to the other. But as the same object cannot\nitself be both red and green at the same time, it follows that what are\ncalled its redness and greenness are not in it, but in the spectator.\nSimilarly, the sounds which an object appears to give forth neither are\nnor ever were in it: they originate in the mind of the hearer, and have\nnot, and never have had any existence elsewhere. 'If the whole body were\nan eye, where,' asks St. Paul, 'were the hearing? If the whole were\nhearing, where were the smelling?' and Professor Huxley more than meets\nthe drift of the Apostle's questions by pronouncing it 'impossible to\nimagine but that if the universe contained only blind and deaf beings,\ndarkness and silence would reign everywhere.'\n\nAnd as with the secondary qualities of matter, so, on the same showing,\nmust it be with the primary. If colour, taste, scent, and the like,\nexist nowhere but in the mind, so neither do extension, solidity, and\nthe like. If the former could not exist unless there were intelligent\nminds to perceive them, then neither could the latter. For, by\nextension and its cognates, we understand simply relations which we\nconceive to exist between certain qualities of objects identical with\ncertain of our own visual and tactile sensations, or between these and\nour consciousness of muscular effort; but inasmuch as all sensations and\nall consciousness are purely mental, and exist nowhere but in the mind,\nit follows necessarily that ideas of relation between different\nsensations, or between sensations and consciousness, must also be purely\nmental, and non-existent save in the mind. All the qualities of matter,\ntherefore, primary as well as secondary, are alike conceptions of the\nmind, and consequently could not exist without a mind for them to be\nconceived by and to exist in. But if the qualities did not exist, then\nmatter, which cannot be conceived otherwise than as an assemblage of\nqualities, could not exist either. Wherefore in respect of matter\nitself, as well as of the qualities of matter, _esse_ is _percipi_,\nessence is perception, to be is to be perceived. Wherefore, finally, if\nthere were no mind to perceive matter, matter could not exist. Q. E.\nD.[33]\n\nAlthough in the foregoing summary of an argument to which not Berkeley\nand Huxley alone, but others of the deepest and acutest thinkers that\nthis country has produced, have contributed, I have strenuously laboured\nto state all its points as convincingly as the obligations of brevity\nwould permit, I am not myself by any means convinced by it. On the\ncontrary, although to say so may seem to imply a considerable overstock\nof modest assurance, still I do say that whatever portion of it is\nsound is irrelevant, and that whatever portion is relevant is not\nsound. So much of it as relates to the nature of the qualities of\nmatter, is, however interesting or otherwise important, very little, if\nat all, to the purpose. No doubt if I prick my finger with a needle,\nor--to take in preference an illustration employed by Locke--if my\nfingers ache in consequence of my handling snow, it would be supremely\nridiculous to talk of the pain I feel being in the snow; yet not a whit\nmore ridiculous than to call the snow itself white or cold, if, by so\nspeaking, I mean that anything in the slightest degree resembling my\nsensation of either snowy whiteness or snowy coldness resides in the\nsnow itself. And as of coldness and whiteness, so of all the other\nso-styled secondary qualities. If I smell a rose, or listen to a piano,\nthe rose or the piano is quite insensible to the scent or sounds by\nwhich my sense is ravished. And of primary qualities, also, precisely\nthe same thing may with equal confidence be alleged. A stone which I\nperceive to be large, round, hard, and either rotating or motionless,\nhas no more perception of its own extension, figure, solidity, motion,\nor rest than a snowball has of its colour or temperature. But all this,\nthough perfectly true, has nothing to do with the question, which is not\n_what_ qualities of matter are, but _where_ they are, and whether they\ncan exist anywhere but in mind; and this question, I submit, is\ndistinctly begged by those who assume, as is done throughout the\nreasoning under examination, that our _sensations_ with regard to\nmaterial objects, and the _qualities_ of those objects, are synonymous\nand convertible terms. Incontestably, sensations are affections of the\nmind which neither have nor can have any existence outside the mind. If,\nthen, the qualities of objects are identical with the sensations which\narise in the mind concerning those objects, why, of course, the\nqualities likewise can exist nowhere but in the mind. On narrowly\nscrutinising, however, the supposed identity, we shall find that it\ninvolves somewhat reckless confusion of diametrical opposites. When I\nlook at or smell a rose, or eat a beefsteak, or listen to a piano, the\nsensations which thereupon arise within me, whether immediately or\nsubsequently, either are the results of my seeing, smelling, eating, or\nhearing, or they are not. To say that they are not is equivalent to\nsaying that an object need not be within reach of the perceptive\nfaculties in order to be perceived; that I may see or smell a rose,\nthough there be no rose to be seen or smelt; may dine sumptuously off\nempty dishes, and be raised to the seventh heaven of delight by the\naudible strains of a music which is not being executed. _Fortunati\nnimium_--only too lucky would mankind be, did this turn out to be a\ncorrect theory, affording as it would a solution of every social\nproblem, and serving as a panacea for every social evil. Psychology\nwould then be the only science worth attention, for of whatever things\nproficiency in that branch of study had qualified any one to form mental\nimages, of those same things would he simultaneously become possessor in\nfull property. Whoever had succeeded in training himself to imagine\nvigorously might at once have, do, or be whatever it pleased him to\nimagine, becoming _ipso facto_, as the Stoics used to say an acquirer of\nvirtue does, 'rich, beautiful, a king.' Woe betide any one, however,\nwho, as long as the cosmical constitution remains what it is, shall\nattempt to put the theory into practice, and desisting from all those\nanimal functions, involving intercourse with a real or imaginary\nexternal world, which are vulgarly supposed essential to animal\nexistence, shall obstinately restrict himself to the sensations which he\nbelieves the mind to be, without any such intercourse, capable of\ncreating for the body's sustenance and delectation. The physical\nextinction inevitably consequent on such devotion to principle would\nspeedily render all the devotees physically incapable of testifying in\nbehalf of their peculiar opinion, and, clearing them away, would leave\nno witnesses surviving but such as were signifying by deeds if not in\nwords their hearty adherence to the popular belief. Practically, then,\nthere may be assumed to be entire unanimity of assent to the truism that\nfor our senses to be affected by the presence of external objects, the\nobjects must needs be present to affect them. On all hands it is in\neffect admitted that in some mode or other external objects exist, but\nif so, and if the sensations resulting from operations performed by the\nbodily organs with external objects would not have resulted unless the\nobjects had been present to operate or to be operated upon, clearly\nthere must be resident in, or inseparably bound up with, the objects a\npower or powers of producing sensation in conscious mind. But the power\nof producing sensation, and sensation itself, are not one and the same\nthing, but two separate and distinct things, intrinsically distinct and\nlocally separate. The feeling, agreeable or painful, according to its\nintensity, which heat occasions, is not the same thing as the heat by\nwhich it is occasioned. The twofold taste, sweet to a healthy, bitter to\na distempered palate, of one and the same aliment, cannot be identical\nwith the single property of the aliment whereby the taste is produced.\nIn the sense of seeming red to a spectator with normally constructed\neyes, and green to one who is colour-blind, a ruby or a Siberian crab is\nat once both red and green, but the two colours which it causes to be\nperceived cannot be identical with the peculiar structure, or whatever\nelse it be, whereby the ruby or Siberian crab communicates to\ncircumambient ether the one self-same motion that terminates in\ndifferent impressions on differently constructed eyes. In these and in\nall cases of the kind the feeling is in the mind, the source of the\nfeeling in matter. The one is a perception, the other a quality, and to\nmistake the quality, not merely for a perception, but for the very\nperception to which the quality gives rise; and to infer thence that the\nquality must likewise be in the mind, is an instance as glaring as can\nwell be imagined of that most heinous of logical offences, the\nconfounding of cause with effect.\n\nBy what steps Berkeley was led, and has since led so many after him,\ninto so grave an error, he has himself acquainted us. Thus it is that he\nargues: By sensible things can be meant only such as can be perceived\nimmediately by sense: and sensible _qualities_ are of course sensible\n_things_. But the only perceptions of sense are sensations, and all\nperceptions are purely mental. Wherefore, sensible qualities being, as\nsuch, perceptible immediately by the senses, must be sensations, and\nbeing sensations must be perceptions, and being perceptions they are of\ncourse purely mental, and existent nowhere save in the mind. Carefully,\nhowever, as Berkeley fancied he was picking his way, he really had\ntripped, and that fatally, at the second step. He calls the qualities of\nobjects _sensible_ things; but sensible they are not according to his\ndefinition, for they are not capable of being immediately perceived by\nthe senses. It is not sense which perceives, but reason which infers\nthem. The senses, as Berkeley elsewhere repeatedly and earnestly\ninsists, receive nothing from objects but sensations, and these they\ncommunicate to the mind without accompanying them by the slightest hint\nas to whence they originally came. The senses suggest nothing as to any\nqualities resident in or appertaining to an object corresponding with\nthe sensations derived from the object. The existence of such qualities\nis an inference of reason which, taking for granted that sensations, in\ncommon with all other occurrences, must have causes, and observing that\ncertain of them commonly occur in the presence of certain objects, and\nnever occur in the absence of those objects, infers that the causes of\nthe sensations must exist in the objects. To the causes thus inferred\nthe name of qualities is given, to distinguish them from the sensations\nwhereof they are causes; and the Berkeleian transgression consists in\noverlooking the distinction between things so diametrically opposite.\n\nBy the commission of such a sin the most powerful intellect becomes\ninevitably committed to further enormities. Except by neglecting to\ndistinguish between sight and hearing, the effects, and light and sound,\ntheir respective causes, it would surely have been impossible for\nProfessor Huxley to come to the strange conclusion that if all living\nbeings were blind and deaf, 'darkness and silence would everywhere\nreign.' Had he not himself previously explained that light and sound are\npeculiar motions communicated to the vibrating particles of an\nuniversally diffused ether, which motions, on reaching the eye or ear,\nproduce impressions, which, after various modifications, result\neventually in seeing or hearing? How these motions are communicated to\nthe ether matters not. Only it is indispensable to note that they are\nnot communicated by the percipient owner of the eye or ear, so that the\nfact of there being no percipient present cannot possibly furnish any\nreason why the motions should not go on all the same. But as long as\nthey did go on there would necessarily be light and sound; for the\nmotions are themselves light and sound. If, on returning to his study in\nwhich, an hour before, he had left a candle burning and a clock ticking,\nProfessor Huxley should perceive from the appearance of candle and clock\nthat they had gone on burning and ticking during his absence, would he\ndoubt that they had likewise gone on producing the motions constituting\nand termed light and sound, notwithstanding that no eyes or ears had\nbeen present to see or hear? But if he did not doubt this, how could he\nany more doubt that, although all sentient creatures suddenly became\neyeless and earless, the sun might go on shining, and the wind roaring,\nand the sea bellowing as before?\n\nAkin to the inadvertence which, as I presume to think, has led Professor\nHuxley thus to misconceive _secondary_ qualities, is an inattention to\nthe differences between our ideas, or mental pictures, and the originals\nwhereof those pictures are copies, which seems to me seriously to\nvitiate his reasoning with regard to _primary_ qualities. With admirable\nperspicuity he shows[34] how it is that our notions of primary qualities\nare formed; how the mind, by _localising_ on distinct points of the\nsensory surface of the body its various, tactile sensations, obtains the\nidea of extension, or space in two dimensions, of figure, number, and\nmotion: how the power, combined with consciousness of the power, of\nmoving the hand in all directions over any substance it is in contact\nwith, adds the idea of geometrical solidity, or of space in three\ndimensions: how the ideas thus formed with the aid of the sense of touch\nare confirmed by, and blended with, others derived from visual\nsensations and muscular movements of the eye: and, finally, how the idea\nof mechanical solidity, or impenetrability, arises from experience of\nresistance to our muscular exertions. All these details, however,\ninteresting as they are, are nevertheless quite out of place. What we\nare at present concerned with is the nature of the things themselves,\nnot the nature of our knowledge of them. No question that this latter is\npurely mental. If figure, motion, and solidity were really, as Professor\nHuxley says, each of them nothing but a perception of the relation of\ntwo or more sensations to one another, no question but that, since the\nmind is the sole seat of perception, they could exist nowhere else. But\nif all these suppositions be incorrect, if, as we have seen, there be in\nmatter and apart from mind, potentialities of producing sensations, it\nfollows that, in matter, and outside of mind, there must be relations\nbetween different potentialities, and there must, moreover, be limits\nto, and there may be changes in, those relations. Wherefore, since there\nis in matter a potentiality of imparting to the mind those sensations\nwhence it derives its ideas of place and distance, and since figure is\nbut a 'limitation of distance,' and motion but a 'change of place,' it\nnecessarily follows that there is in matter a potentiality of conveying\nto the mind those sensations whence it derives its ideas of figure and\nmotion. And a similar remark applies equally to solidity, and to every\nother so-called quality of matter. All of them are substantive\npotentialities of producing in the mind those sensations whence our\nideas of themselves (the qualities) are derived. No doubt all these\nqualities would be _inconceivable_ in the absence of a mind by which\nthey might be _conceived_, but it is not necessary that, in order to\n_be_, they should be _conceived_. In discussions of any abstruseness we\ncannot be too precise in our use of words, and we shall inevitably be\ngoing astray here if we allow ourselves for a moment to forget that a\nquality and the conception of that quality are not one single thing, but\ntwo things. Can it be seriously supposed that if all the conscious\ncreatures, of every description, by which the universe is peopled, were\nto fall temporarily into complete stupor, the material universe would,\nat the commencement of the trance, be deprived of its extension,\nsolidity, figure, and all its other constituent properties, recovering\nthem again as soon as its inhabitants woke up again? Can it be doubted\nthat, on the contrary, all potentialities resident in its material\ncomposition would pursue the even tenor of their way just as if nothing\nhad happened; performing, during the temporary absence of external\npercipient minds, precisely those operations which, as soon as\nconsciousness returned to those minds, would be followed by the\nperceptions of sight, hearing, and touch? But if so, then plainly it is\nexceedingly derogatory to matter to charge it with such absolute\ndependence on external support that its very being consists in being\nperceived from without. That matter cannot exist without mind I\ncheerfully admit, or rather most earnestly affirm, proposing presently\nto explain in what sense I make the affirmation. Meanwhile let it\nsuffice to have ascertained that the mental service with which matter\ncannot dispense, whatever else it be, is at any rate not, as the whole\nBerkeleian school so positively insist, that of mental testimony to its\nexistence.\n\nLet us pause here for a moment to report progress. We have seen, on the\none hand, that unless mind and matter have been eternally coexistent,\nmind must have preceded matter, and that it is idle, therefore, to\nexpect, by any researches into matter, to discover how mind (or life)\noriginated. We have seen that from a materialism which represents mind\nas in any sense a property or product of matter there is no possible\noutlet to an idealism which represents matter as owing its being to\nmind. To see this is simply to see that the builder of a house cannot\npossibly have been born in the house he has himself built. On the other\nhand, we have seen that the idealism which represents being or existence\nas consisting of perception is utterly incompatible with materialism of\nany sort or kind, unless, indeed, with a materialistic nihilism wherein\nwould be no room for a solitary molecule, still less for any molecular\nstructure, and least of all for that motion of molecular structures into\nwhich consistent materialists are logically bound to attempt to resolve\nall natural phenomena. We have, in short, seen that materialism and\nidealism, in the senses in which those terms are commonly used, are\nutterly incapable of amalgamation, or indeed of even being harmoniously\napproximated, without being first deprived of all the characteristic\ntraits which at present entitle them to their distinguishing\nappellations.\n\nTo which of the two belongs the larger share of blame for this\nimplacable hostility is easily determined. Materialism, in dealing with\nmental phenomena, begins by setting chronology at defiance; but between\nidealism and the phenomena of matter there is no such aboriginal\nincongruity. From principles common to every form of idealism a theory\nis deducible which, while frankly acknowledging the reality of matter,\nmay, with perfect consistency, maintain that reality to be\nmental--although mental in the sense of being, not a perception by, but\na metamorphosis of, mind. Of such a theory the outlines seem to me to\nhave been sketched, and the foundations partly laid, by Descartes, and\nit cannot be otherwise than interesting to inquire in what manner and\nhow far so consummate an artificer advanced in the work, and where and\nwherefore he suddenly stopped short in it.\n\nWhen Descartes, after convincing himself of the hollow pretentiousness\nof most human knowledge, proceeded to dig away the accumulated drift and\nsand of ages in quest of any clay or rock there might be below, the\nfirst indubitable verity he came to was thought, about whose reality\nthere could, as already explained, be no possibility of doubt, inasmuch\nas any doubt concerning it, being itself thought, would be but an\nadditional proof of it. On the bit of firm ground thus thoroughly\ntested, he proceeded to place a formula not less carefully verified, his\nfamous 'Cogito, ergo sum'--'I think, therefore I am.' By many of his\nfollowers, however, this second verification of his is deemed to be by\nno means so satisfactory as it was by himself, Professor Huxley more\nespecially taking vehement, though, as I make bold to add, somewhat\ngratuitous, exception to every single word of the most celebrated of\nCartesian formulae. No doubt the premiss of the formula assumes the\nconclusion, but it likewise includes as well as assumes it. No doubt,\nsince 'I think' is but another way of saying 'I am thinking,' to say\nthat 'I think' is to assume that 'I am;' nay, the same thing is equally\nassumed by the mere introduction of the pronoun 'I.' But Descartes was\nfully warranted in taking for granted the truth of his conclusion. For\nby previously showing incontestably that thought and consciousness are\nreal existences, he had completely proved the premiss wherein his\nconclusion is included. What though, as Professor Huxley suggests,\n'thought' may possibly 'be self-existent,' 'or a given thought the\nresult of its antecedent thought, or of some external power'? Be thought\nwhat else it may, it must needs be, also, either an affection or an\noperation; if not performed, it must be felt; there must needs be,\ntherefore, something by which it is either performed or felt, and that\nsomething cannot possibly be other than a thinking and conscious thing.\nAs surely as thought is, so surely must there be a thinker. This is, in\nsubstance, affirmed even by many who deny it in terms, and Hume, in\nparticular, when saying, as he somewhere does, that 'all we are\nconscious of is a series of perceptions,' denies and affirms it at one\nand the same time. For how can there be perception without a percipient?\nor how consciousness without a conscious entity? or how can that entity\nbe conscious of feeling without being simultaneously conscious that it\nis itself which feels, without knowing, consequently, that it has a\nself, or without being warranted, if it possess the gift of speech, in\ndeclaring, in words even more emphatic than those of Descartes, 'I\n_myself_ am'? And how, if these questions do not admit of reply, can\nProfessor Huxley be warranted in declaring self and non-self to be mere\n'hypotheses by which we account for the facts of consciousness,' and\nadding that of their existence we 'neither have, nor by any possibility\ncan have' the same 'unquestionable and immediate certainty as we have of\nthe states of consciousness which we consider to be their effects'?\nSurely the existence of self is one of the most direct and immediate\nsubjects of consciousness; yet it does not depend for evidence on\nconsciousness alone, but is as unanswerably demonstrable as that two\nstraight lines cannot enclose space or that parallel lines cannot meet,\nor as any other mathematical negation. No ratiocinative deduction can be\nmore incontestable than that, since _I_ have thoughts, there must be an\n_I_ to have them.\n\nWhoever thus assures himself of the existence of self obtains\nsimultaneously equal assurance of the existence of non-self; for feeling\nthat his conscious self is not boundless, but is confined within limits,\nhe cannot doubt that beyond those limits there must be space, and,\nreceiving continual sensations from without, he perceives that there\nare, in external space, potentialities of imparting sensations. Thus, I\nrepeat, Descartes in laying down the first principles of his philosophy\ncreated an intellectual basis for the external universe. Unfortunately,\nhowever, instead of proceeding to place its proper superstructure on the\nfoundation thus laid, he wilfully stepped aside from what he had just\npronounced the only firm ground in existence, and undertook to raise a\nrival edifice on part of the formless void beyond. Deeply struck by the\ngrand discoveries of his illustrious contemporaries, Galileo and Harvey,\nand thence discovering for himself that the phenomena of remotest worlds\nand also the involuntary phenomena of our own bodily frames take place\nin accordance with forces of uniform operation, he leaped suddenly to\nthe conclusion that those forces are purely mechanical. The circulation\nof the blood, he says, 'is as much the necessary result of the structure\nof the parts one can see in the heart, and of the heat which one may\nfeel there, and of the nature of the blood which may be experimentally\nascertained, as is the motion of a clock the result of the force,\nsituation, and figure of its wheels and of its weight.' Nor, in his\nview, does the heart, by virtue of its structure and composition, merely\ncause the blood to circulate. 'It also generates animal spirits,' which,\n'ascending like a very subtle fluid, or very pure and vivid flame, into\nthe brain as into a reservoir, pass thence into the nerves, where,\naccording as they more or less enter, or tend to enter, they have the\npower of altering the figures of the muscles into which the nerves are\ninserted, and of so causing all the organs and limbs to move.' He puts\nthe case thus: Even as the ordinary movements of a water-clock or of a\nmill are kept up by the ordinary flow of the water, and even as 'in the\ngrottoes and fountains of royal gardens, the force wherewith the water\nissues from its reservoirs suffices to move various machines, and even\nto make them play instruments or pronounce words according to the\ndifferent disposition of the pipes which lead the water'--even so do\npulsation, respiration, digestion, nutrition, and growth, and 'other\nsuch actions as are natural and usual in the body,' result naturally\nfrom the usual course of the animal spirits. Moreover, even as intruders\nupon the waterworks aforesaid unconsciously by their mere presence cause\nspecial movements to take place, even as, for example, 'if they approach\na bathing Diana, they tread on certain planks so arranged as to make her\nhide among the reeds, and, if they attempt to follow her, see\napproaching a Neptune who threatens with his trident, or rouse some\nother monster who vomits water into their faces'--even so do external\nobjects, by their mere presence, act upon the organs of sense; even so\ndo 'the reception of light, sounds, odours, flavours, heat, and such\nlike qualities in the organs of the external senses, the impression of\nthe ideas of these in the intellect, the imagination, and the memory,\nthe internal movements of the appetites and passions, and the external\nmovements which follow so aptly on the presentation of objects to the\nsenses, or on the resuscitation of impressions by the memory,' yea, even\nso do all these 'functions proceed naturally from the arrangement of the\nbodily organs, neither more nor less than do the movements of a clock or\nother automaton from that of its weights and its wheels, without the aid\nof any other vegetative or sensitive soul or any other principle of\nmotion or of life than the blood and the spirits agitated by the fire\nwhich burns continually within the heart, and which differs in no wise\nfrom the fire existing in inanimate bodies.'[35]\n\nQuite fairly it may be urged that the writer of passages like these\nwould, if writing in modern language, and with the aid of modern\nconceptions, have expressed himself much as Professor Huxley does when,\ndeclaring that the circulation of the blood and the regular movements of\nthe respiratory, alimentary, and other internal organs are simply\n'affairs of mechanism, resulting from the structure and arrangement' of\nthe bodily organs concerned, from 'the contractility of those organs,\nand from the regulation of that contractility by an automatically acting\nnervous apparatus;' that muscular contractility and the automatic\nactivity or irritability of the nerves are 'purely the results of\nmolecular mechanism;' and that 'the modes of motion which constitute the\nphysical bases of light, sound, and heat are transmuted by the sensory\norgans into affections of nervous matter,' which affections become 'a\nkind of physical ideas constituting a physical memory,' and may be\ncombined in a manner answering to association and imagination, or may\ngive rise to muscular contractions in those reflex actions which are the\nmechanical representatives of volition.' Quite fairly may a doctrine,\ncapable of being thus translated, be described as leading 'straight to\nmaterialism.' Quite justly may its author be claimed by Huxley as joint\nprofessor of a materialistic creed. True, Descartes lodges within his\nhuman mechanism a _chose pensante_ or rational soul, whose principal\nseat is in the brain, and who is treated as corresponding to a hydraulic\nengineer stationed in the centre of waterworks for the purpose of\nincreasing, slackening, or otherwise altering their movements. But this\nrational soul is a very needless appendage to either the Cartesian or\nthe Huxleian system, wherein, if its post be not a literal sinecure,\nthere is, at any rate, little or nothing for it to do which might not\nquite as well be done without it. The hydraulic engineer, sitting in his\ncentral office, has to wind up the whole machinery from time to time,\nand to turn now this tap, now that, when he wishes to set this or that\nparticular machine in motion. But, as no one need be told, our _chose\npensante_ has nothing to do with the winding up of our digestive,\ncirculatory, or respiratory apparatus; and so far from internally\narranging those other internal organs from the mere arrangement of whose\nparts, according to Descartes, the reception, conversion, and retention\nof sensations, and the movements, whether internal or external,\nthereupon consequent, naturally proceed, or from regulating the\nmolecular mechanism, whence, according to Professor Huxley, results the\nautomatic nervous activity which, in his opinion, governs the movements\nof the limbs not less absolutely than those of the intestines, it, nine\ntimes out of ten, neither knows nor suspects that any such organs or\nmechanism exist. If the functions above attributed to the human frame\ncould be shown really to belong to it, pure, not to say crass,\nmaterialism, would require no further proof. Those particular functions\nundoubtedly take place without the cognisance of that particular\nsensitive soul which we call ourself, so that if no other sensitive soul\ntake cognisance of them, they must needs be, not simply automatic\nperformances, but performances of an automaton of such marvellous powers\nas to be quite equal to the performance likewise of whatever human\noperations are vulgarly classed as mental. Assume, however illogically,\nthat motion is a function of matter, and from that premiss, whether true\nor false, the conclusion that thought likewise is a function of matter\nmay be quite logically deduced. 'That thought is as much a function of\nmatter as motion is' must needs be conceded to Professor Huxley, who,\ntherefore, if he could show that motion is really such a function, would\nbe fully justified in adding, that 'the distinction between spirit and\nmatter vanishes,' that 'we lose spirit in matter.'\n\nUndeniably, then, of the Cartesian philosophy one moiety is, as\nProfessor Huxley says, materialistic; but from the self-contradictions\ninseparable from every species of materialism the Cartesian variety is,\nof course, no more exempt than any other, and it has besides one\nself-contradiction peculiar to itself. A clock's pendulum vibrates, and\nits hands move, not simply by reason of the situation and figure of its\nweight and wheels, but also because some intelligent person, by winding\nup the clock, has communicated an impulsive force to the weight and\nwheels. Waterworks perform all sorts of antics, not solely because the\npipes are skilfully constructed and arranged with a view to such end,\nbut because also an intelligent engineer has turned running water into\nthe pipes. But the only intelligent agent to whom Descartes allows\naccess to his corporeal machinery is one who not only has no notion how\nto apply a moving force except to some few portions of the machinery,\nbut with regard to the other portions has most likely no suspicion that\nthey even exist. But how in the absence of some other intelligence, of\nsome other 'vegetative or sensitive soul or principle of motion or of\nlife,' is it possible for the inert and inanimate heart to generate\nanimal spirits?--how is it possible for death thus to give birth to\nlife?--or, if the generative faculty be supposed to be the necessary\nresult of a particular molecular structure, how is it that when the\nanimal spirits become from any cause extinct, they are not immediately\nregenerated by the same molecular structure? or rather, how is it\npossible for animal spirits to become extinct as long as the molecular\nstructure of which they are necessary concomitants remains unaltered? In\nthese questions the old insuperable difficulties reappear in new forms,\nbut on these we need not dwell. Apart from anti-materialistic arguments\nof general applicability, there is a mode of refutation specially\nadapted to the Cartesian form of materialism, which, besides flatly\ncontradicting itself, contradicts not less flatly a twin system of\nunimpeachable veracity. Truth cannot be opposed to truth:--a doctrine\ncannot be true, even though propounded by Descartes and Huxley, if it\nconflict irreconcileably with doctrines which Descartes and Huxley have\nunanswerably demonstrated. Now one-half of Cartesian philosophy shows\nconclusively that amidst the countless infinity of human notions, the\none single and solitary certainty of independent and self-evident\nauthority is the existence of thought, and nothing else whatever,\ntherefore, can be entitled to be regarded as absolutely certain which\ncannot be shown to rest mediately or immediately upon this. One thing\nwhich can, by strictest logical process, be shown so to rest, is the\nexistence of a thinking self; and another is the existence of a non-self\nor external universe; but of this external universe we know scarcely\nanything beyond the bare fact that it exists. We know that outside the\nthinking self there are potentialities capable of somehow or other\ncommunicating sensations to the thinking self; but of the nature of\nthese potentialities our senses teach us absolutely nothing, and the few\nparticulars that reason is able to discover, are, with one single though\nvery momentous exception, to which we are rapidly approaching, purely\nnegative. We do know to a certain extent what qualities of objects are\nnot. We know that they are not and cannot be in the least like the\nsensations which we call by the same names. We know that what we call\nthe whiteness and coldness of snow or the hardness and weight of marble,\ncan no more resemble the feelings we receive from looking at or handling\nsnow or marble than the mental exaltation produced within us on hearing\none of Bach's fugues is like the organ on which, or the organist by\nwhom, it is played. We know that of the pictures which our senses form\nfor us not one can possibly be a correct likeness. We know that what we\nfancy we see in matter we do not see; that what we seem to feel we do\nnot feel; that the apparent structure and composition of matter cannot\ntherefore possibly be real. To this conviction we are irresistibly drawn\nby a chain of idealistic reasoning of which Descartes forged the first\nlink, and every link of which will stand the severest strain. But if\nthis be the teaching of an idealism occupying as its base the only\nmorsel of solid ground to be found in the mental universe, what scrap of\nfooting is there left for an antagonistic materialism purporting to rest\non what we can see and feel of a structure and composition which, as we\nhave just satisfied ourselves, we cannot see or feel at all?\n\nAs plainly then as one half of Descartes' philosophy is materialistic,\nso plainly, that half, instead of a necessary outgrowth and exact\ncorrelative of the other or idealistic moiety is, on the contrary, the\nlatter's diametrical and implacable opponent. As plainly, therefore, as\nthe one is true, must the other be false, and Cartesian idealism, in so\nfar as its character has been exhibited above, has, I submit, been\ndemonstrated to be true. The greater the pity that it was not brought to\nmaturity by its author. In enumerating its first principles, Descartes,\nas I must once again observe, was forming a logical basis whereon a\ncomprehensive and consistent conception of an external universe might\nforthwith have been securely deposited, had he not unluckily, instead of\nhimself proceeding to build on his own foundations, with congruous\nmaterials, left them free for others to build upon with gold, silver,\nprecious stones, wood, hay, or stubble, as chance might determine. May\nI, without presumption, hazard a conjecture as to the sort of fabric\nthat might have arisen, if he had steadily prosecuted his original\ndesign?\n\nAt the stage which we are supposing him to have reached, very little\nremained to complete the work. Around man, around every individual man,\nor other conscious intelligence, as its centre, is ranged infinitely\nextended space, filled with, or, as it were, composed of various kinds\nof matter, every kind and every separate portion of which is endowed\nwith special qualities capable of communicating corresponding sensations\nto the central intelligence. So far all that can be predicated of any\nmaterial object or portion of matter is that it is a collection of\nqualities; but from hence we may advance boldly to the further negative\ndiscovery that it is nothing else; that there is not and cannot be, in\naddition to those qualities, any substance in or to which the qualities\ninhere, or are in any way attached.\n\nThe absence from matter of any such substance is evidenced by the\nabsurdity involved in the idea of its presence. Suppose the substance to\nexist: the qualities inherent in it must needs be as completely distinct\nfrom itself as pins are from a pincushion; the extension and solidity of\nan extended, solid substance can no more be identical with the substance\nthan the nominative is identical with the genitive case. The substance,\ntherefore, although deprived of all its qualities will still retain its\nessence unimpaired, will still be equally a substance, just as a\npincushion continues equally a pincushion after its last pin has been\nabstracted. Conceive, then, all the qualities of matter to be\nabstracted, and consider what remains--a substance without qualities of\nany sort. But a substance neither solid, nor fluid, nor yet gaseous;\nneither coloured nor colourless; neither singular nor plural; without\nform and void, without even extension--what is it? not something, but\nnothing; a nonentity or non-existence. The qualities of matter in being\nremoved from the substance have therefore left nothing behind, and,\nconsequently, although carrying with them nothing but themselves, have\nyet carried with them all the constituents of matter, which is thus\nseen to be composed exclusively of qualities without a single particle\nof foreign admixture. And since, moreover, the qualities of matter are\nclearly not themselves substances, that is to say do not themselves\n_stand under_ or uphold anything, it follows that their compound,\nmatter, must likewise be purely unsubstantial.\n\nThe edifice begun by Descartes has now been raised high and strong\nenough to have its layer of negations crowned with an affirmation of\npre-eminent importance. The qualities of matter, being known only by\ntheir effects, are evidently causes: and, being causes, must necessarily\nbe either themselves forces, or, at the least, manifestations of force;\nand inasmuch as force involves exertion, it cannot be inert; and\ninasmuch as deadness must be incapable of exertion, all force must be\nalive; and life without substance cannot be conceived otherwise than as\nsome species of spirit or mind. Such therefore must be matter. Matter\ncan be nothing else than pure spirit of some kind.\n\nAnd may we not with good reason congratulate ourselves on this result of\nour investigations? Instead of the vision we were threatened with, of\nmind losing itself in matter, our eyes are gladdened with that of the\nconverse operation, of the transmutation of matter into mind. And on no\naccount is this metamorphosis to be mistaken for annihilation of matter,\nwhose stolid grossness has vanished, not in order to give place to empty\nnominalism or to a thin mist of mere mental perceptions existing only in\nvirtue of being perceived, but in order to reappear gloriously\netherealised into living energy. By the change that has taken place,\ncorruption has put on incorruption; the natural body has become a\nquickening spirit; death is swallowed up in victory. Matter reappears\nconverted, not into a perception of percipient mind, but into percipient\nmind itself; yet although thus presumably percipient of its own\nexistence, it not the less has an existence perfectly independent of\nperception, either by itself or by any other intelligence.\n\nUnder what head the mind, or combination of living forces, thus\nconstituting all matter, ought to be classed, is a question, which the\nimperfection of human faculties may as well be content to leave\nunanswered, though to its being supposed to emanate directly from the\nmind of Omnipresent Deity, one insuperable objection may be mentioned,\nwhich should be kept steadily in view. There are few of us who will not\nshrink with horror from a notion, according to which man, whenever doing\nas he pleases with any material object, applying it, as likely as not,\nto some base or criminal purpose, is disposing at his pleasure of a\nportion of the Divine essence: few who will not greatly prefer to\nbelieve that the vital principle which manifests itself in the form of a\ndunghill or of a poisoned dagger, may be, for the time, as completely\nindividualised and separate from all other life or mind, as every human\nbeing perceives his own conscious mind or self to be. At all events, we\nhave now reached a point beyond which it would be rash to rush hastily\non. For a while we may be well content to rest where we are. That matter\nis nothing else but a peculiar manifestation, or avatar, of some species\nof mind, whatever that species be, is a proposition as demonstrably true\nas its converse is demonstrably false. Unless it be possible for death\nto give birth to life, it is impossible for living mind to be the\noffspring of inanimate matter; but so surely as mind is mind, and that\nliving force alone can act either on mind or aught else, so surely must\nall matter that imparts sensation to mind, be itself a species of living\nforce and consequently a species of mind.\n\nAn unexpected conclusion this, and widely different, I confess, from\nthat to which I was myself looking forward at the outset of the\ndiscussion; yet, at the same time, one of which there is the best\npossible proof in the impossibility of conceiving its contrary. It is\nbesides a conclusion to which not only ought Descartes in consistency to\nhave come, but at which both Locke and Berkeley, though advancing from\nopposite points of the compass, did very nearly arrive; nay, which the\nlatter did almost touch, and must apparently have grasped, had not his\nhands been already full of other things. It is, moreover, one from which\nI do not apprehend that Professor Huxley himself will seriously dissent.\nIndeed, I almost hope that he may object chiefly to its having been\nmoved by me as an amendment on his original motion, and that he may be\ndisposed to claim it for himself as a portion of genuine Huxleyism. If\nso, I shall readily recognise the claim so far as to admit that things\nvery similar to many of those said by me above had already been said by\nProfessor Huxley; though, in justice to myself, I must add that their\ncomplete opposites had likewise been said by him. But the office which I\nhere proposed to myself was mainly that of an eclectic, who, going over\na field which another husbandman has tilled, separates the wheat from\nthe tares, and binds up the former into shapely and easily portable\nsheaves; and no more satisfactory assurance can be given of my having\nbeen usefully employed in such subordinate capacity than that Professor\nHuxley, who, amongst all his numerous admirers, has not one sincerer\nthan myself, should welcome me as a coadjutor, instead of repelling me\nas an antagonist.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[32] Archimede, pour tirer le globe terrestre de sa place et le\ntransporter en un autre lieu, ne demandait rien qu'un point qui fut\nferme et immobile: ainsi j'aurai droit de concevoir de hautes esperances\nsi je suis assez heureux pour trouver seulement une chose qui soit\ncertaine et indubitable.--Descartes, _Meditation Deuxieme_.\n\n[33] Lay Sermons, xiv. 'On Descartes' Discourse;' also an article by\nProfessor Huxley, on 'Berkeley and the Metaphysics of Sensation,' in\n'Macmillan's Magazine' for June, 1871.\n\n[34] Article on 'Berkeley and the Metaphysics of Sensation,' in\n'Macmillan's Magazine' for 1871, pp. 152 et seq.\n\n[35] The quotations, of which those in the text are abridgments, will be\nfound in 'Lay Sermons,' xiv. pp. 364-7.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n_RECENT PHASES OF SCIENTIFIC ATHEISM._\n\n     'Wonder is the basis of worship. That progress of science which is\n     to destroy wonder, and in its stead substitute mensuration and\n     numeration, finds small favour with Teufelsdroeckh, much as he\n     otherwise venerates those two latter processes.'--_Sartor\n     Resartus._\n\n\nI.\n\nBy the train of thought pursued in the last chapter, we were led to the\nconclusion, not, indeed, that matter has no existence, but that its\nnature or constitution is altogether different from what is commonly\nsupposed. The difference thus discovered does not, however, imply any\ncorresponding difference with respect to the properties--_sensible_\nproperties, as they are commonly called--whereby matter affects the\nsenses. Equally, whether matter be, in all and each of its various\nspecies, inanimate, inert, passive substance, or a combination of\nself-acting forces--equally whether it be the author or merely the\nsubject of whatever activity it manifests, that activity is equally\nmanifested in certain sequences which are as unvarying as if they were\nprescribed by inexorable and irresistible laws, and which, indeed, by a\nconvenient, though exceedingly treacherous metaphor, are usually styled\nlaws--laws of Nature when spoken of collectively, laws of attraction,\nrepulsion, gravitation, motion, heat, light, and the like, when\nseparately referred to. Whithersoever we turn our eyes, however closely\nwe pry, into whatever depths of infinity we peer, we observe the most\nperfect harmony between structure and law, law moulding structure and\nstructure utilising law. Afar off we descry systems upon systems, solar\nand sidereal, like sand upon the sea-shore for multitude, and every\nindividual orb thereof rotating or revolving in strictest accordance\nwith inflexible mathematical principles, and evidently owing to the\nprevious influence of those same principles its characteristic\nconfiguration. Near at hand we discern organic forms innumerable, each\nwith its own special arrangement of component parts admirably apt for\nthe performance in ordinary circumstances of special functions,\nadmirably, as circumstances change, accommodating itself by\ncorresponding changes for continuing the same or undertaking other and\nequally appropriate functions, nor merely performing them all in despite\nof the restraints imposed by law, but availing itself of those very\nrestraints as means and aids for their performance. Where so much\naptness is, adaptation surely must have been: where arrangement is so\nplainly conducive to ends, the ends must surely have been foreseen, and\nthe arrangement effected by design and according to preconceived plan.\nAnd there cannot have been design without a designer or designers: the\nplan cannot but have had its author or authors: nor could the plan have\nbeen executed without an artificer or artificers. Author or authors,\ntoo, artificer or artificers, be the same singular or plural, must have\npossessed, individually or collectively, not less of wisdom, power, and\ngoodness than are displayed by the finished work. Now of each of these\nattributes, the amount to which the aspect of the universe bears\nwitness, albeit not infinite, inasmuch as the universe is not without\nimperfections, is yet indefinite; as plainly without measure as the\nuniverse is without bounds. Wherefore, not only must the universe have\nhad an author or authors, an artificer or artificers, but his or their\nwisdom, power, and goodness, must, whether infinite or not, have been at\nleast illimitable.\n\nSuch is the argument from design, and such, to my thinking, the only\nabsolute certainties legitimately deducible from it; and although these,\nin comparison with the numerous probabilities ordinarily associated with\nthem, may appear somewhat meagre, yet are they intrinsically of\nexceeding moment. They constitute the only basis on which any rational\nreligion, any that appeals to the intellect as well as to the feelings,\ncan rest securely. Whoever accepts them, by whatever other name he\nprefer to call himself, is essentially a theist. He only who denies or\nignores them can justly be stigmatised as an atheist. Yet, although an\ninquiry into their soundness is thus plainly second in interest to none,\nit is not that in which I propose to engage at present, unless\nindirectly. My immediate concern is not with the strength of theism, but\nwith the weakness of atheism, and the hollowness of the latter's\ndialectical pretensions. What in every form of piety is most provocative\nof philosophic scorn, is its forwardness of faith, its eagerness of\nacquiescence; but to this sort of reproach I expect to be able to show\nthat none are more obnoxious than those very philosophers by whom it is\nmost freely cast. That nothing is more unphilosophical than\nuncompromising irreligion, nothing more credulous than its credulity, no\nother beliefs more monstrous than those by which it strives to fill up\nthe void created by its own unbelief: this is my present thesis, and\nthis I propound, not unaware what formidable antagonists I am thereby\nchallenging, but not without something of the same confidence, and\nsomething withal of the same ground for it, as David had when, in equal\nstrait, exclaiming, 'The Lord is on my side; I will not fear; what can\nman do unto me?'\n\nLet us at the outset consider what denial of plan in the structure of\nthe universe implies, and note, among other things signified, the\nfollowing. The exact conformity on matter's part to Nature's laws,\neverywhere observable, and even more striking perhaps in minute details\nthan in grandiose generalities, is purely accidental. The laws were not\nenacted in order to be obeyed; matter's various shapes were not given to\nor assumed by it in order that its obedience might serve any particular\npurpose. All appearances of ingenious contrivance in the collocation of\nelementary particles, or in the co-operation of elementary forces, are\nmere appearances. It was not designed that under the influence of the\nlaws of motion, chaos should resolve itself into systems, and time\ndivide itself into years and seasons and days and nights. It is quite\nunintentionally that the countless varieties of mechanism appertaining\nto different vegetable and animal fabrics have been rendered fit for\nperforming those special processes which, by reason in each case of some\nspecial arrangement of parts, they actually do perform with such\nmarvellous precision. It is a total mistake to suppose that the eye was\nmeant for seeing, or the ear for hearing, or the heart for initiating\nand regulating the circulation of the blood, or nervous ramifications\nfor receiving and disseminating sensible impressions. These various\norgans have been discovered to be useful, and are used accordingly; but\nthey were not intended to be so used, or contrived with any such view,\nor, indeed, contrived at all. The forces, whatever they be, and whether\nidentical with or totally distinct from itself, whereby matter, on one\nsupposition, acts, and, on the other, is acted upon, and by whose\noperation the universe and all its contents have been fashioned and are\nsustained, are in either case perfectly heedless and reckless forces,\noperating always without the slightest reference to result.\n\nLanguage like this was much in vogue among the French encyclopaedists of\nthe last century. By opposing it, even Voltaire incurred the reputation\nof bigotry, and Hume probably had to listen to a good deal of it on that\nmemorable occasion when, dining with Baron D'Holbach, and intimating to\nhis host his disbelief in the existence of atheists, he was informed by\nway of reply that he was actually at table with seventeen members of the\nsect.[36] That in England, too, it was a good deal talked at about the\nsame and a somewhat later period, may be inferred from the fact that\nagainst its teaching one of Paley's most celebrated treatises was\nexpressly directed. Doctrine which was once so fashionable, and which\neven now cannot be said to be obsolete, was not, of course, without some\nshow of reason to support it, and somewhat in this wise the chief\narguments in its behalf were usually marshalled:--In order to account\nfor actual result, there is no need to imagine previous purpose. All\nthings that exist, all events that occur, must bear to each other some\nrelations in situation and time, which relations are not less likely to\nbe orderly than disorderly, or, rather, indeed, are more likely to be\nthe former than the latter. For necessarily the rarer rises above the\ndenser; the stronger compels the weaker; that which is pushed hardest\nruns fastest. And even though, among organic forms, orderly and\ndisorderly had been, by the purely fortuitous concurrence of atoms,\noriginally produced in equal numbers, the former would be sure in the\ncourse of ages to become the more numerous, and that in proportion to\nthe orderliness of their composition, and to their consequent\nsuitableness for the reception and maintenance of organic life, by which\nthey in turn would be maintained and multiplied, while less aptly\norganised forms, succumbing in the struggle for existence, perished and\nvanished away. Thus everything arranges itself--_everything_, however,\nbeing here another name for Nature, which alone does or can exist, which\nis all and does all; yet, though doing all things in general, does\nwhatever it does quite unintelligently, and without the least desire of\ndoing any one thing in particular more than another.\n\nThough speaking of this as a show of reasoning, I would by no means be\nunderstood to consider it as merely a show. On the contrary, I must\nadmit that it contains a modicum of reality sufficient, in my opinion,\nto secure the position taken up from being utterly overthrown by any\ndirect attack not followed up by reference to a certain palpable\nabsurdity which we shall presently perceive to be inseparably connected\nwith the position. To so much of real reasoning as we have before us,\nlet then all due respect be shown. No doubt all existences must\nnecessarily dispose themselves or be disposed somehow. No doubt all\noccurrences must succeed each other somehow. No doubt, either, that if\nthe disposing or otherwise originating forces operated quite\nregardlessly of plan, no one disposition or succession would be a whit\nless possible than any other--the most symmetric or evenly graduated\nthan the most disjointed or confused. Now although, since exertion is\nutterly inconceivable without volition, and since volition is equally\ninconceivable without consciousness, it must be impossible for any\nforces ever to exert themselves altogether unintentionally, it is yet\nperfectly possible for their exertion to have no ulterior intention\nbeyond that of gratifying an unprospective will. This is all that one\nfidgetting about, as the phrase is, intends, when he has no special\nmotive for fidgetting in any particular direction more than in any\nother, and similarly it may by possibility be the mere fidgettiness of\nNature that gives rise to all natural phenomena. Nature, indeed, cannot,\nany more than any other force or combination of forces, be utterly\ndestitute of intelligence, but its intelligence may not inconceivably be\nof no higher sort than that which the sensitive plant exhibits or\nmimics. Nature cannot exert itself quite unconsciously, nor consequently\nquite unintentionally, but its exertions, though not unintended, may\npossibly not be intended for any result. It must be admitted, then,\nthat, so far, no reason has appeared why the force or forces by which\nthe universe was originally moulded, may not, as contended, have been\nperfectly heedless and reckless; may not, without the least\npremeditation or the slightest view to any ulterior object, have\nproduced certain phenomena in those particular sequences to which the\nname of natural laws has been given; and may not, with the same total\nabsence of purpose, have adopted certain other courses of action which,\nvery fortunately, though quite undesignedly, have resulted in the\nproduction of endless varieties of mechanism, most of them of\nmarvellously intricate and complex structure, and all and each of them\nof structure marvellously suitable for performing, in co-operation with\nNature's laws, functions of an utility as varied as their structure. And\nwhat any forces have been equal to do once, those same forces, if\nremaining unimpaired, must be equal to repeat times without number.\nAlthough, if you found your opponent at dice invariably throwing\ndouble-sixes, you might feel confident that his dice were loaded, your\nconfidence, unless otherwise corroborated, would not amount to entire\ncertainty. With unloaded dice there would be nothing strange in\ndouble-six being thrown once; but, if once, why not twice running? and\nif twice, why not three, four, or a million times running, provided that\nthe thrower's strength held out so long? No one of the separate throws,\nfrom the first to the millionth, would be attended with more difficulty\nthan any other. Whoever made the first might with no greater effort make\nany one, and therefore every one, of the rest. In the fact of his having\ncommenced the series there would be proof of the possibility of his\ncompleting it. In like manner, if it be not inconceivable that Nature's\nforces may once, by a single unpremeditated exertion, have bestowed on\nthe universe its actual constitution, it is not inconceivable that by\ncontinual repetition of similarly unpremeditated exertions, they may\nhave ever since maintained that constitution. In this supposition there\nis nothing patently absurd. It is perfectly legitimate to suppose that\nany event or combination of events, not demonstrably impossible, may\nhave occurred in the absence of complete certainty that they have not\noccurred. It may not be illegitimate, therefore, to suppose that all\nphenomena of the description termed physical, and all repeated sequences\nof such phenomena, may have occurred, not causally, but casually--that\nit may have been a fortuitous concourse of atoms which originally\nestablished the existing economy of the universe, and an uninterrupted\nsuccession of similar fortuitous concourses that has ever since\nmaintained that economy. That supposition, I repeat, involves no\nabsolute absurdity. What however is, if not absurd, at any rate\negregiously unscientific and most unphilosophically credulous, is to\ntreat the supposition as a certainty, notwithstanding that the chances\nagainst its representing real facts are as infinity to infinitesimality;\nfor not less is the preponderance of improbability that the laws of\nnature were not intentionally prescribed, and that the wondrously\ncomplex and wondrously useful harmony that has been established between\norganic structure and natural law was not designedly established. In\nconsidering this point, it will be convenient to take law first.\n\nInasmuch as, on the assumption that all phenomena of inorganic matter\nare effects, purely unpremeditated, of Nature's capricious restlessness,\nthere would of course be no more reason why any one such phenomenon than\nany other should not at any time occur, there would equally of course on\nthe same assumption, be no more reason why it should. An infinity of\nphenomena being at all times equally possible, the chances against any\none being, on any occasion, preferred to all the rest, would be infinity\nless one. Against any particular sequence of phenomena they would be as\ninfinity less one multiplied by the number of phenomena composing the\nsequence, and against one or more repetitions of the same sequence they\nwould be the same multiple of virtual infinity multiplied by the number\nof repetitions. Against perpetual repetition, they would, as it were, be\nvirtual infinity multiplied by infinity. On the assumption stated, an\napple loosened from the parent stem, might quite possibly fall to the\nground, but quite as possibly might remain suspended in mid air, or rise\nstraight upwards, or take any one of the innumerable directions\nintervening between zenith and nadir, travelling too, unless\ninterrupted, in the direction selected for any period, from a single\nmoment to endless ages. Experience, however, teaches that an apple or\nany other body of greater specific gravity than air, does invariably,\nwhen deprived of support, fall straight downward, such downward movement\nbeing part of one of those sequences of phenomena which are classed\nunder the head of gravitation. Now, to assert that this, or any other,\nand consequently every other, specimen of gravitation, cannot possibly\nhave been unpremeditated would no doubt be unwarrantable. No doubt there\nis one solitary, one infinitesimal chance that the force whose action\nresults in gravitation may, when producing that result, be acting with\nas little choice of direction as a fidgetty man makes when moving his\narms or legs about for no better reason than that he will not take the\ntrouble to keep them quiet. Only, as on the supposition that the force\ndid not select its course, the chances against its always taking the\nsame course would be infinity less one indefinitely multiplied, the\nprobability that it does select must needs be the same indefinite\nmultiple of virtual infinity. Not less than this is the preponderance\nof probability that the invariably recurrent sequences of phenomena\nwhich we are in the habit of referring to gravitation, are premeditated,\nand that the law of gravitation has, so to speak, been wittingly\nordained. And in this respect all invariable sequences of phenomena,\notherwise termed laws of nature, stand plainly in the same category. One\nsolitary and infinitesimal unit is the sole deduction to be made from\nwhat would otherwise be infinite certainty, that the assumption we\nstarted with is false, and that all invariable sequences are\npremeditated, all the laws of nature enacted by a law-giver who intended\nwhat he was enacting.\n\nIntention, however, is not quite the same thing as design. It is\npossible for action to be at once intentional and purposeless. If a man,\ntaking regularly a constitutional walk, is observed always to take the\nsame road, and to stop exactly at the same point, there can be no\nreasonable doubt as to his intention to walk just so far and no farther;\nbut it does not follow that he has any object in walking which he\nsupposes would not be equally served by his walking a few paces more or\nless. Similarly whatever be the certainty that the laws of nature have\nbeen intentionally established, there is in that certainty no proof of\ntheir having been established for any purpose beyond that of gratifying\nsome whim or humour of the lawgiver. For indications of design in the\nuniverse we must look rather to organic than to inorganic nature, rather\nto structure than to law. We shall find applying to the former the same\nreasoning as to the latter, and likewise some more besides.\n\nInasmuch as, of the innumerable combinations of which the elements or\nelementary forces are susceptible, each and every one, in the absence\nof any preference for one over another on the part of the volition on\nwhich the occurrence of all depends, would have equal chances of\noccurring, the chances against the occurrence at any particular time of\nany particular combination would be as the number, or rather as the\ninnumerosity, of all the rest to one. Such, in the absence of any\nintentional action on Nature's part, would be the odds against any one\nsingle occurrence of any one elemental combination. Against the\nperpetual repetition of the same combination the odds would be the same\ninnumerosity innumerable times multiplied. Nevertheless there actually\nis everlastingly recurring, not simply one single specimen, but an\ninnumerable multitude of the same elemental combinations. Whatever were\nthe combinations necessary for producing all the existing organisms,\nvegetable and animal, with which our earth swarms, the constant\nrecurrence of those same or nearly the same combinations is\nindispensable both for the maintenance of the organisms during life and\nfor the production of successors to them; and such constant recurrence\nis plainly going on. The chances then against its being unintended must\nbe the aforesaid multiple of innumerosity. But this is not all. The\nmultiple in question represents the chances against perpetual repetition\nof any set whatever of elemental combinations, but about the actually\nrecurrent set there is this peculiarity, that it produces and maintains\ninnumerable organisms or machines, which--inasmuch as all of them are\nmarvellously fit, by reason of their respective specialities of\nstructure, for performing different obviously useful purposes--have all\nthe appearance of having been expressly constructed for the performance\nof those purposes. If these appearances of adaptation were fallacious,\nif the apparent utility were undesigned, the chances against the\nperpetual recurrence of so singularly useful, rather than of some\ntotally useless, set of combinations would be a multiple of innumerosity\nsimilar to that which has clearly been shown to represent the\npreponderance of probability against the constant repetition of any set\nof combinations whatever, whether useful or useless. If, then, it were\npermissible to use so extravagant an hyperbole to indicate an idea of\nmultitude to which it is not in the power of words to give adequate\nexpression, it might be said that while the chances against Nature's\nhabitual action being _unintentional_, or the result as it were of mere\nfidgettiness or restlessness, are an indefinite multiple of infinity,\nthe chances against its being _purposeless_ and _undesigned_, without\nview to end or object, is the same multiple doubled.\n\nStill, in order to give the solitary and infinitesimal chance on the\nother side its full due, let us confess it to be as yet not quite\nconclusively demonstrated that the actual order of inorganic, and the\nactual constitution of organic, nature are results of uninterrupted\nrepetition of one and the same purposeless volition, and of the same\npurely fortuitous concourses of atoms. Let us admit it to be not\nabsolutely impossible, not utterly inconceivable, that vegetable and\nanimal organisms were not contrived such as they are with any view to\ntheir becoming habitations of vegetable and animal life, but that having\nbeen accidentally discovered to be fit to be lived in, they have been\ntaken possession of by life and inhabited accordingly; that, similarly,\nthe wondrously complex and varied mechanisms of which most organisms are\ncomposed were not made to be used, but are used because certain uses\nhave been accidentally discovered for them--the eye, for instance, to\ntake one example out of myriads not less remarkable, not having been\nmeant to be seen with, but being employed for seeing because, by a happy\ncoincidence, the particles composing it have got to be collocated in\nsuch wise that a picture of whatever is opposite to it is formed upon\nthe retina, and is thence by a nervous concatenation transmitted to the\nbrain. Although, if the most consummate skill, in comparison with which\nthat displayed in the fabrication of Mr. Newall's telescope were\ndownright clumsiness, had striven to devise a seeing apparatus, capable\nof exact self-adjustment to all degrees of light, all gradations of\ndistance, all varieties of refrangibility, it could not have adopted a\ncontrivance more exquisitely ingenious, or evincing more minutely\naccurate knowledge of the most secret laws of optics, than the mechanism\nof the eye apparently betokens, let it still be admitted to be not quite\nbeyond the bounds of possibility, that not skill but the blindest and\ndensest ignorance may have presided over the whole operation. But even\nthough the modes of procedure involved in these admissions were not\nquite impossible or inconceivable, belief in them would, I repeat, be\npalpably irrational, and that almost to the last degree. The nearest\napproach to a reason that can be imagined for it is the _Credo quia\nincredibile est_ to which philosophers in despair have occasionally been\nknown to resort. _Dudum in scholis audiveram_, says Descartes, _nihil\ntam absurde dici posse quod non dicatur ab aliquo Philosophorum_. In his\nearly college days he had heard that nothing so absurd can possibly be\nsaid, but that some philosopher or other may say it. Such words are too\nhard for me. I make as yet no charges of absurdity, contenting myself\nfor the moment with saying that no notion can be too unscientific to be\nadopted by those scientific men who, gratuitously running counter to the\nstrongest possible presumption, set the science of probabilities so\nutterly at naught as to adopt as reality an hypothesis the chances\nagainst which are but one single iota short of infinite.\n\nWhat, however, is unequivocally absurd, is a certain notion which I\nhinted would be found to be inevitably consequent on the foregoing\npremisses, and whose self-evident falsity carries with it condemnation\nof the premisses. To say that the creative agency denominated Nature, or\nby whatever other name known, neither had any ends in view when\noriginally adopting certain sequences of action, and originally\nfabricating innumerable organisms exactly suitable for the performance,\nin concert with those sequences, of innumerable useful functions; nor,\nalthough ever since repeating the sequences, and maintaining or\nreproducing the organisms, has so done with any reference to the\npurposes which the sequences and organisms serve, is equivalent to\nsaying that the agency in question is not even aware that any purposes\nare served. He who planted the eye doth not then see. He who fashioned\nthe ear doth not hear. He who teacheth man knowledge doth not, it seems,\nknow. Yet what, according to this, creative agency, whether God or\nNature, Creator or Creatress, can not perceive, the creature can. Even\nan ass knows that thistles are good to eat, and that certain movements\nof his tongue and larynx will result in a bray; while man not only daily\ndiscovers fresh uses for things, but imagines that if he had had the\nfashioning of them, he might have materially increased their utility;\nKing Alfonso of Castile, for instance, boasting of the valuable\ncosmogonical advice he could have given had he been taken into council;\nand one of Kaiser Wilhelm's predecessors on the throne of Prussia\nintimating that he, in like case, would have proved conclusively that\npounded quartz and silex may easily be in excess in arable soil. The\ncreature, then, has intelligence of which the Creator has always been\ndestitute. Yet the creature can have nothing save what, either directly\nor indirectly, he derives from a creator. Wherefore that, in becoming\nendowed with intelligence, man must have received from the Creator that\nwhich the Creator had not to give, is an article inseparable from the\nprofession of faith of those moderate Atheists who are content to regard\nman as a creature.\n\nThere are, however, others of a more uncompromising temper, who do not\nhesitate to pronounce creation, in the sense of formation of something\nout of nothing, to be an incomprehensible myth; and it cannot be denied\nto these that, however difficult it be to conceive an uncreated universe\nexisting from all eternity, the conception of an eternally existent\nCreator is not one whit easier. Fairly enough, therefore, these may\nproceed to argue that in the production of that compound, man, the share\nof the agency usually styled creative must have been limited to\ncombining and arranging the elemental particles of his corporeal moiety.\nQuite fairly, advancing still farther, they may hazard a conjecture that\nit is from the union of the corporeal constituents of man that the\ngeneration of his spiritual moiety has resulted. But for such generation\nit is plainly indispensable that the corporeal constituents should have\nbeen not inert particles but self-acting forces, and that, as such, they\nmust have been in possession of more or less intelligence, which\nintelligence again either was or was not equal in amount to that of the\nhuman spirit or mind generated by them. If it were not equal, then the\nforces must have given to their offspring more than they had themselves\ngot to give--which is sheer nonsense. If it were equal, then, inasmuch\nas the human mind is quite clever enough to discover uses for the\nvarious parts of the human body and of other organisms, the forces to\nwhich the human mind owes its origin must be at least equally clever.\nThe elementary forces by whose action the human and other organic bodies\nhave been constructed, must have been perfectly aware what they were\nconstructing, and what services the resulting structures would be fitted\nto render. In other words, they must in their constructive operations\nhave worked towards specific ends, according to preconceived plan and\nset design, wittingly contriving various machines for various purposes.\nThe advanced Atheists, with whose speculations we are here especially\nconcerned, are thus at liberty to choose between two horns of a dilemma,\nbut must not hope to escape both. Either they stand self-refuted by\nassuming something to have been made out of nothing--a process which\nthey began by pronouncing impossible--or they must imagine intelligence,\ncompetent to devise all organisms, to be diffused throughout the\nuniverse, thereby showing themselves to have assumed their sectarian\nappellation without sufficient warrant, and to be in reality rather\nPantheists than Atheists.\n\nA third hypothesis indeed remains for any who are content to believe\nthat Nature's elementary forces having, without knowing what they were\nabout, constructed the human body, the human mind, until then a\nhouseless wanderer, lit upon it by chance, and, observing it to be a\nhabitation suitably swept and garnished, entered in and dwelt there.\nUpon this supposition there must be, within the limits of our terrene\nsphere, two distinct species of intelligence, a greater and a\nlesser--the one competent to construct all sorts of marvellously complex\nand marvellously serviceable machines, yet incompetent to understand\ntheir utility, the other fully perceiving the utility of the machines,\nyet utterly incompetent to fabricate them. But there are probably few\nadventurers on the ocean of speculation who would not prefer total\nshipwreck to the shelter of such a harbour of refuge as this.\n\nAtheism must in fairness be acknowledged to have much mended its manners\nwithin the last two or three generations. Its tone and language are no\nlonger of the rude, scoffing sort at which Voltaire may be readily\npictured as breaking into voluble protest, or Hume as contemptuously\nopening his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. Though grown more civil,\nhowever, it cannot be complimented on having grown more rational. At\nmost may it be credited with being more elaborately irrational than of\nold. It now no longer denies, it only ignores. It does not pronounce God\nnon-existent. It only insists that there is not complete proof that God\nexists; thereupon, however, proceeding to argue as if He did not exist,\nand thereby, not simply confounding deficiency of proof on one side with\nsufficiency of proof on the other, but overlooking an amount of proof\nthat on any other subject would, provisionally at least, be deemed\nconclusive, and perversely rejecting an hypothesis which, whether\ncorrect, or not, is at least a good working hypothesis, coinciding\nexactly with most of the facts, and inconsistent with none of them, in\nfavour of an hypothesis which, even in the hands of a Huxley or a\nDarwin, cannot be made to work at all.\n\n\nII.\n\nTo my mind there is a genuine pleasure in giving expression to\nadmiration of any great intellectual achievement; and it is much rather\nfor that reason than on account of any value which I imagine my opinion\non such a subject can possess, that, having had occasion to name the\nillustrious author of the 'Origin of Species,' I desire to preface my\ncriticism on what appears to me to be a grave defect in his theory, by\nintimating my hearty concurrence in its leading principles. That\ninasmuch as, owing to the exceeding fecundity of the generality of\norganic beings, more individuals of almost every species are born than\ncan possibly survive, and that consequently a desperate struggle for\nexistence must take place amongst them; that in such a struggle the\nsmallest grain may turn the scale, the minutest advantage possessed by\nsome individuals over others determine which shall live and which shall\ndie; that, as the circumstances in which life is to be maintained\nchange, the character and structure of organisms must change also in\norder to be accommodated thereto, but that the changes which\nconsequently take place in some individuals are better suited to the\naltered circumstances than those which take place in other individuals;\nthat individual offspring, moreover, although always strongly resembling\ntheir parents in the majority of particulars, always exhibit some slight\ndifferences from them; that of these differences such as do not render\nthe offspring less fit will almost of necessity render them more fit\nfor coping with their rivals; and that superior fitness, however\nacquired, is as likely as any other quality to be transmitted to\nsucceeding generations--all these are indisputable facts, and from\nthese, as premisses, it seems to me not so much to be legitimately\ndeducible that most existing species may have been produced 'by descent,\nwith modification, through natural selection,' or 'survival of the\nfittest,' as necessarily to follow that they cannot have originated in\nany other way. For _all_ species to have been created such as they now\nare, is simply inconsistent with the premisses. Whatever beings may at\nany remote epoch have been created, there must, according to the\nconditions involved, have been amongst their descendants some better\nfitted, by reason of divergence from the parent type, for engaging in\ninternecine strife than those, if any such there were, which adhered\nclosely to that type. Whether, then, among the survivors from the first\nengagement in that never-ending struggle for life which must have\ncommenced soon after the creation, there were or were not any exact\nrepresentatives of the parent type, there must have been some exhibiting\nmore or less of divergence from that type. Among the descendants of\nthese, again, there must have been some who, together with the\nstructural or other advantages inherited from their immediate ancestors,\npossessed, moreover, some advantages first nascent in themselves, and\nwho were similarly enabled thereby to prevail over their less gifted\ncompetitors, and similarly to transmit all their advantages to a\nposterity, some members of which would similarly be born with certain\nnew advantages in addition. By continual repetition of these processes,\nand the consequent accumulation of divergencies from the original\npattern, however slight those divergencies might separately be, there\ncould not but eventually become formed breeds so distinct from each\nother as to be to all intents and purposes distinct species, in\nwhichsoever of its many vague senses the term 'species' be understood.\nNow these species, instead of having been created, would be the result\nof divergence from their created progenitor. Whether, therefore, any\ncreated species do or do not still exist, it is certain that among\nexisting species there are some that were not created, but which have\nbeen gradually evolved, and evolved, too, through survival of the\nfittest. Mr. Darwin, then, is fairly entitled to the praise of having\nplaced beyond dispute that a process called by himself 'Natural\nSelection,' and by Mr. Herbert Spencer 'Survival of the Fittest,' has\nalmost from the commencement of organic life been, and still is, in\nactive operation; that it is a cause which must needs have originated\nsome species, and is quite competent to have originated all that still\nexist; whereas creation, the only other suggested cause, cannot be\nconceived to have done this latter unless every minutest shade of\ndifference between offspring and parent be regarded as the effect of a\nseparate creative act. Unless creation have originated every one of\nthose divergencies the accumulation of which constitutes a species,\nclearly it cannot have originated that species. With some of the\nphenomena connected with species the theory of creation cannot be\nreconciled unless this novel interpretation be placed upon the word\ncreation, whereas there are none of the phenomena with which the\nevolutionary hypothesis conflicts, and few, if any, which, when\nrestricted to its proper office of auxiliary, it will not help to\nexplain.\n\nTo what we might thus be assured of, even if we had only general\nprinciples to guide us, all obtainable evidence unanimously testifies.\nGeology distinctly proclaims that every portion of our globe's surface\nhas undergone vast changes, and that its organic inhabitants have\nchanged simultaneously and proportionately. The proof absolute, which it\nfurnishes, that at a period when few, if any, existing species had made\ntheir appearance, many species now extinct already existed, is proof\nequally absolute that if all species extinct and extant were created,\nthey cannot, at any rate, have been created at the same time. Of so much\nat least we must be satisfied, unless we are prepared to accept the\ningenious conjecture of an orthodox divine, that, while our earth was\nbeing formed out of chaos, Satan, to confound the faith of remote\ngenerations, brought over bones of monsters from other worlds and\nembedded them in the soil of ours, or that, as the same idea has been\notherwise expressed, while the earth's crust was a baking the devil had\na finger in the pie. Moreover, on the supposition that there was a break\nof ages between the creations of extinct and of extant species, as\ngeology positively declares there must have been if both were separately\ncreated, how passing strange is the 'grand fact that all extinct beings\ncan be classed with all recent beings'! The strangeness disappears,\nhowever, when both are regarded as descendants of common progenitors.\nThe wonder would then be if they could not be so classed. Again, how\nastonishing on the creative, how natural on the evolutionary hypothesis,\nthat the arrangement of bones in the hand of a man, the wing of a bat,\nthe fin of a porpoise, the leg of a horse, should be precisely the same;\nthe number of vertebrae in the neck of a giraffe, and in that of an\nelephant the same; the primitive germs from which a man, a dog, a frog,\nand a lobster are gradually evolved, to all appearance the same--the\nsame microscopic atom of homogeneous matter, undistinguishable by any\nknown test from an animalcule almost at the bottom of the organic scale!\nAbove all, that the courses by which animals of all degrees of\ncomplexity are gradually developed from apparently equally simple germs\nshould, whenever traceable, be found to consist of progressive\nramifications, so that every higher animal, before arriving at maturity,\npasses through several stages at the end of each of which lower animals\nhave stopped! How impossible, or how easy, to understand, according as\nthe one or the other hypothesis is adopted, is the phenomenon of what in\nthe one case will be treated as rudimentary, in the other as obsolete,\norgans! No one need scruple to regard these as apparatus which the\ncreature has outgrown and allowed to fall into decay through neglect;\nbut whatever there is in us of real nobleness of feeling revolts against\nthe notion of their being apparatus which a divine Creator began to\nbuild but was not able to finish. And yet again, how insultingly\nirreconcilable with any rational estimate of Divine nature is the\npossibility of any existing type of mammals having been created, seeing\nthat if so, it must have been created with _false_ marks of nourishment\nfrom the womb of a mother that never existed!\n\nThese are some of the main grounds on which the Darwinian theory rests.\nOf the abundance of detailed illustrations from which it may derive\nadditional support no adequate idea can be formed, except by careful\nperusal of its author's own writings, and these fortunately may without\nmuch exaggeration be said to be in everybody's hands. Of the arguments\nthat have been brought forward in opposition to it, all seem to me to\nbe susceptible of very complete answers, and one or two of the\nstrongest, of answers more complete than they have yet received. True,\nthere is no disputing the testimony borne by the paintings and\nsculptures of Egyptian tombs, and of Ninevite palaces, that the basement\nfloors in Thebes and Memphis were infested by much the same sort of\nbeetles as those which are such nuisances in London kitchens; that\nSardanapalus, if ever he exchanged indoor for outdoor sports, may have\nhunted with dogs and horses that might pass muster at an English meet,\nand that the Pharaohs were served by negro slaves as like as two peas in\nall externals to those who in the United States have recently and\nprematurely been metamorphosed into free and independent electors. But\nall this only proves that certain species which existed 4,000 years ago\nare still represented by unchanged descendants. It does not prove that\nother descendants and groups of descendants from the same species have\nnot within the same period undergone changes sufficiently great to\nconvert them into distinct races; neither, if it did prove thus much,\nwould it do more than afford a presumption, and a very deceptive one,\nthat 4,000 years are too short a time for the formation of a new race,\naffording besides, at the same time, much stronger presumption that,\nwithin the remotest limits to which Mosaic chronology can be pushed\nback, the various races of mankind, white, black, and intermediately\ntinted, can not possibly have descended from one pair of ancestors.\n\nThat domesticated animals, when suffered to run wild, always return to\nthe primitive wild type--this, instead of an argument against, is one of\nthe strongest arguments for the evolution theory, from which it is\nindeed, as Mr. G. H. Lewes says, a necessary deduction. It is simply\nbecause, as the conditions of life change, structure must, for\nadaptation's sake, change likewise, that wild animals are capable of\nbeing domesticated, of being, that is, made to undergo modifications by\nbeing brought from the conditions of wildness to those of domesticity.\nHow, then, should they possibly retain those modifications, how escape\nreturn to their previous shape and habits, when retransferred from\ndomesticity to wildness?\n\nThe question, Why are not new species continually produced? may be aptly\nmet by another. How, consistently with the theory, is it possible they\nshould? Natural Selection is represented as acting 'solely by\naccumulating slight successive favourable variations,' as taking only\nshort and slow steps. By what possibility, then, can it suddenly produce\nmodifications sufficiently conspicuous to mark off a new species? New\nspecies may be, and indeed are, constantly in process of formation on\nall sides, under our very eyes, without our being aware; for since the\nprocess requires ages for its accomplishment, it must needs be\nimperceptible by the keenest observation. So that even when a new\nspecies is completed, it is not recognised as new, so minute is the\ndifference between the perfection to which it has attained, and the\nimperfect state in which we and our fathers before us had long known it.\n\n'Why, however, since, according to the theory of Natural Selection, an\ninterminable number of intermediate forms must have existed, linking\ntogether all the species in each group by gradations as fine as are our\npresent varieties--why do we not see these linking forms all around us?'\nTo this objection the very theory against which it is urged affords a\npartial and almost adequate reply, the deficiencies of which are\nbesides to some extent supplied by embryology and geology, and to a\nfarther extent accounted for by the meagreness of the geological record.\nNatural selection for survival necessarily implies extinction of all\nthat are not selected to survive, so that fossil remains are now the\nonly procurable evidence that any of these latter that have long been\nextinct ever existed. But very many organic beings are incapable of\nbeing preserved in a fossil condition, while of those which can be so\npreserved 'the number of specimens in all our museums is absolutely as\nnothing compared with the countless generations of countless species\nthat must have existed.' It should be recollected, too, that among still\nexisting forms are to be included several which result from uterine\ntransformation, and are never found alive except _in utero_.\n\nAnother objection, notwithstanding the great stress often laid on it,\nseems to me to be altogether beside the real issue. It is the one\nderived from the invariable sterility, real or supposed, of hybrids. A\nfact cited by Mr. Lewes,[37] that of the fecundity of a cross called\n_Leporides_, bred by M. Rouy of Angouleme, between the hare and rabbit,\nof which a thousand on an average were for many years, and probably are\nstill, sent annually to market, would seem to be decisive against the\nassumed sterility; but, however this be, matters not the least in regard\nto the efficacy of Natural Selection, which, be it once again observed,\nis represented as producing new species, not suddenly by the copulation\nof two old and utterly distinct ones, but very gradually and slowly, by\nthe accumulation of minute differences occurring in successive\nindividuals of the same species.\n\nThe chief if not the only serious obstacles to acceptance of Darwinism\nseem to me to be of the author's own creation. Now and then he appears\nsomewhat needlessly to overstrain his principles, as for instance when\nhe intimates his conviction that 'all individuals of the same species,\nand all the closely allied species of most genera,' will hereafter be\ndiscovered to 'have descended from one parent and to have migrated from\nsome one birthplace.' This, to my mind, is much more unlikely than his\nfurther suggestion that 'all animals and plants are descended from some\none prototype.' Startling as this second proposition may be on first\nhearing, it may not very improbably express the real fact, provided by\n'some one prototype' be signified, not a single individual, but several\nindividuals of one and the same type. Beyond all doubt there was a time\nwhen on and about our earth all matter was as yet inorganic, and when\nwhatever spirit,[38] of the sort so termed in contradistinction to\nmatter, either permeated the earth's substance or moved about its\nsurface, must have been as yet unembodied. Mr. Darwin demands whether\nany one can 'really believe that at innumerable periods in the earth's\nhistory, elemental atoms have been commanded suddenly to flash into\nliving tissues.' I for one certainly am far from believing this. I see\nno reason for believing that, whatever other phenomenon, at all similar,\nmay at any stage of the world's progress have occurred, it has at\ninnumerable subsequent stages been repeated; neither do I consider that\nthe phenomenon is likely to have worn the guise of a sudden flash. But I\ndo firmly believe, and am quite unable to substitute any equally\nplausible substitute for the belief, that when the crust of the earth\nhad sufficiently cooled, and when other physical conditions had become\nsuch as to admit of the manifestation of that life which we are\naccustomed to distinguish by attaching to it the epithet 'organic,'\ncertain of those forces[39] which, in my opinion, constitute matter,\ndid, either of their own accord or under superior direction--not\nsuddenly flash, but--slowly elaborate themselves into organic structures\nof some exceedingly simple type; that in the course of ages these simple\nstructures either developed themselves or were developed into structures\nrendered by slow degrees more and more complex, until the degree of\ncomplexity attained, being such as to fit them for being inhabited by\nspirit previously unembodied, they were, by individualised portions of\nsuch spirit, appropriated and inhabited accordingly. Beyond all doubt,\nat some period or other, what had always previously been unorganised\nmatter must have become organised. Of two things one, then. Either this\nmatter must, whether under superior direction or not, have organised\nitself, or it must have been organised by some other agency. Mr. Darwin,\ntogether with all thorough-going Darwinians, inclines, I suspect, to the\nopinion that matter organised itself; but if so, it cannot possibly have\nbeen inert or lifeless, but must have been active and animate, and\ncapable of volition; and on that condition, there is no great stretch of\nfancy in imagining it to have spontaneously adopted the series of\narrangements indicated. If, on the other hand, we are content to admit\nthat some external superior intelligence may have performed, or\nconducted, or presided over operations, all room for wonder vanishes.\n\nIn regard to the character of the structural prototype, that, of course,\nwould depend in part on surrounding physical conditions, and if these\nhave ever been the same in all parts of the globe, there is no apparent\nreason why any number of specimens of the prototype may not anywhere\nhave been independently elaborated. It is not possible, however, that,\nsince the earth began to revolve round the sun, physical conditions can\nhave been _simultaneously_ the same in all latitudes; while, on the\nother hand, it seems probable that, although the same set of conditions\nmight perhaps admit of the production of only one organic type, there\nmight be other sets of conditions favourable to the production of other\ntypes. On the whole, then, it seems more probable that inorganic matter\ncombined (or _was_ combined) in the first instance in several modes,\nthan in one single mode, in order to become organic. But whatever may\nhave been the organic form or forms it first took, to assume that only a\nsingle individual of each form was independently elaborated, and that\nall other individuals, both of the same form and of all the more complex\nforms, gradually evolved from that one--are descendants from the same\nfirst individual, the same first parent--surely very gratuitously\nincreases the difficulties of the subject. Especially it complicates the\nproblem of the distribution of the same plants and animals over\ncountries immemorially separated by gulfs apparently impassable by\nnatural means.\n\nThe obstruction which Mr. Darwin has created to the progress of his\nopinions by the exaggerated shape in which some of them have been\npresented is, however, as nothing in comparison with the injury he does\nto his theory by obstinately rejecting certain materials indispensable\nfor its satisfactory completion. What an admirable theory it is so far\nas it goes! How nicely it fits into all the facts it comes in contact\nwith, even into those which it is, of itself and unassisted, incompetent\nto explain! How elevating too and ennobling, when rightly conceived! for\nwho can fail to rejoice in the view it presents of 'Natural selection\nworking solely by and for the good of each being' that it spares, and\ncausing 'all corporal and mental endowments to tend towards perfection'?\nor who need mind suspecting himself to be descended, through an ape,\nfrom a triton or a hydra, if he may compensate himself by hoping to have\na distant posterity of angels? How well, moreover, would it, if\npermitted, chime in with any rational religion, besides being, as\nalready hinted, absolutely essential to that part of the Mosaic creed\nwhich represents all the variously coloured and variously featured races\nof men as springing from one single couple. By what perversity then is\nit that Mr. Darwin takes such pains, if not to render his theory\nirreligious, at least to exclude from it the assistance which religion\nalone can afford, and which it so greatly needs, that whoever, without\nthat assistance, attempts to apply the theory to the complete\nelucidation of phenomena, will be found inevitably committing himself to\nthe most astounding hypotheses? Here I picture to myself a curl on the\nlip of some advanced Darwinian who, having accompanied me so far, cannot\naltogether suppress his compassionate scorn at the proposed recurrence\nnow-a-days to a mode of thought so obsolete in the treatment of\nscientific subjects as the theological. 'Positive biology,' he will\nperhaps superbly exclaim, repeating the words of Mr. G. H. Lewes,\n'declines theological explanations altogether.' Yes, but positive\nbiology is therein very unwise, for as, if the same reader will\naccompany me a little further, I pledge myself to show, it is the\nuntheological or atheistical, not the theistical, mode of treatment\nwhich is here utterly out of place and flagrantly unscientific. Be it,\nwithout the slightest reserve, admitted that the formation of almost\nall, and probably of quite all, existing species is due, and cannot be\notherwise than due, to survival of the fittest, the superior fitness of\nthese, moreover, being due to the gradual accumulation of innumerable\nand, for the most part, exceedingly slight divergencies from the parent\nstock. But whence and why these divergencies? It cannot be without a\ncause that even one more feather than the parent possessed appears in\nthe offspring's wing, or a novel tint on its coat, or that the curve of\nbeak or talons is not precisely the same in each. What then is the\ncause? Unphilosophic people will most likely call it 'all chance,'\ngetting sneered at for their pains, and justly too, as using words\nwithout meaning. But are not philosophers themselves doing much the same\nthing, and merely restating facts which they profess to explain, when,\nlike Mr. Lewes,[40] they talk of the 'specific shape' assumed by an\n'organic plasma' being 'always dependent on the polarity of its\nmolecules,' 'or due to the operation of immanent properties;' or declare\nthat, in the process of organic evolution, 'each stage determines its\nsuccessor,' 'consensus of the whole impressing a peculiar direction on\nthe development of parts, and the law of Epigenesis necessitating a\nserial development,' insomuch that, 'every part being the effect of a\npre-existing, and in turn the cause of a succeeding part,' the reason\nwhy, when a crab loses its claw, the member is reproduced, is that the\ngroup of cells remaining at the stump 'is the necessary condition of\nthe genesis' of precisely that new group which the reproductive process\nimperatively requires to follow next in order, this second group equally\nthe necessary condition for genesis of the one required third, the third\nfor the fourth, and so on; and that the reason why the thorns of a\nblackberry admit of somewhat close comparison with the hooks and spines\nof certain crustaceae, is that portions of the integument of both plant\nand crawfish '_tend_ under similar external forces to develop' into\nsimilar forms?\n\nI pass rapidly over one or two minor difficulties that here present\nthemselves. I will not stop to ask how--if reproduction of lost limbs be\ndue to polarity of the molecules, in other words to the direction which\nin the circumstances of the case the molecules are bound to take, and if\nthe polarity of each particular set of molecules be impressed upon them\nby the group formed immediately previously--how it is that the group\nterminating the docked stump of a limb, which group is represented as\ncommencing the work of reproduction, imparts a different direction or\ntendency to the fresh molecules of nourishment that are supplied to it,\nfrom that which it has been accustomed to communicate to previous\nmolecular supplies. Hitherto it has used such molecules solely for the\nrepair of its own waste; now it employs a large portion of them to build\nup an entirely new fabric. It seems then that molecular polarity is not\na fixed but a variable property, and, being such, cannot be inherent or\noriginate in the molecular nature. But I will not linger over this point\nnor yet over the fact, absolutely unintelligible on the polar\nhypothesis, that it is comparatively only few animals that are capable\nof reproducing severed parts. Although the process required, no doubt,\nis, as Mr. Lewes says, 'in all essential respects the same as that which\noriginally produced' the parts, the last layer of cells left at the\nplace of excision after a human leg or arm has been cut off, lacks the\nskill to repeat an operation, which according to the hypothesis it has\nonce before performed. It cannot so determine the polarity of the\nmolecules with which it is supplied by the arteries as to constrain them\nto group themselves into a new layer, instead of merely repairing an old\none. A crab or a lobster, or a polype's molecules are clever enough for\nthis, a man's not. Without pressing these objections, but on the\ncontrary, conceding for the nonce and for argument's sake, to molecular\npolarity, to immanent properties, to Epigenetic evolution, all the\nefficacy claimed for them, I limit myself to inquiring what causes the\nvarious tendencies and directions which these imply. Tendency\npre-supposes impulse; direction control. What is it that here imparts\nthe impulse and exercises the control? Whatever else it be, it must, for\nreasons stated at length on a previous page, be something possessing at\nleast enough of intelligence to exercise volition, and which at least\nintends that the movements which it originates shall take place, whether\nit further intends or not the ends which eventually result from the\nmovements. To myself it seems barely conceivable that even the least\nmarvellous of these ends should have been undesigned. Take, for\ninstance, half a dozen _infusoria_ of some exceedingly low type, all\nindividually single cells or sacs of matter perfectly transparent and\ndestitute of any approach to structure that can be detected with a\nmagnifying power of five thousand diameters. Observe how, after feeding\nfor a while, and increasing proportionately in size, one will divide\nitself in half, each half becoming a separate and complete animalcule,\nanother line itself internally and clothe itself externally with\nclustered cells, which, by a series of differentiations, traceable\nthrough a number of animalcular varieties, eventually exhibit the\noutlines of respiratory and circulatory systems. To me, I repeat, it\nseems all but inconceivable, and altogether incredible, that the\nintelligence which willed these cellular divisions, multiplications, and\ndifferentiations to take place, did not foresee what would be their\nresults, and did not will them for the sake of those results. And if I\ndo not deem it still more incredible that there should be _natural_\nselection separating the fittest for survival by accumulating upon them\nslight advantages which qualify them to survive, without there being at\nthe same time a _nature_, or other exalted intelligence, however\ndesignated, which selects, and which accumulates advantages upon the\nobjects of its selection, _in order_ that they may survive, it is only\nbecause I consider the extremest limits of credibility to have been\nalready passed. But I forget. On reflection I perceive that I am doing\nscant justice to the elasticity of philosophic belief. How far this is\ncapable of stretching on occasion, let one or two notable Darwinian\nspecimens show.\n\nNo single piece of organic mechanism is oftener or more confidently\nappealed to by Theists as rendering conclusive evidence on their side\nthan the eye, nor would they run much risk by allowing sentence to go\nfor or against them according as Mr. Darwin has or has not succeeded in\nhis attempt to explain that evidence away. Possibly he may disclaim\nhaving made any attempt of the kind, and I must admit that it is less by\nwhat he says than by what he leaves unsaid, that he lays himself open to\nthe charge. Indeed, in almost all he says on the subject, I myself\ncordially agree, embracing even some of his views with less of\nhesitation than he seems to have felt in putting them forward. He seems\nto me, for instance, to have somewhat gratuitously admitted it to be\napparently 'in the highest degree absurd to suppose that the eye, with\nall its inimitable contrivances for adjusting the focus to different\ndistances, for admitting different amounts of light, and for the\ncorrection of spherical and chromatic aberration, could have been formed\nby natural selection.' For since, as he proceeds unanswerably to argue,\n'numerous gradations, from an imperfect and simple eye to one perfect\nand complex, each grade being useful to its possessor, can certainly be\nshown to exist;' since, as certainly, slight variations of the eye do\noccur, and are inherited, and since of these variations there cannot but\nbe some which are useful to the animal exhibiting them under changing\nconditions of life, the difficulty of believing in the formation of a\nperfect and complex eye by natural selection can be little else than a\nprejudice of the imagination. He proceeds to indicate some probable\nstages in the assumed process. Some of the lowest organisms, in which no\ntrace of nerves can be detected, are known to be sensible to light,\nowing, probably, to the presence in the _sarcode_ of which they are\nmainly composed, of certain elements which, in organisms somewhat higher\nin the scale, become aggregated and developed into nerves specially\nendowed with the same sensibility. An optic nerve thus formed,\nsurrounded by pigment cells, and covered by translucent skin, is the\nsimplest organ that can be called an eye, but it is an eye incapable of\ndistinct vision, and serving only to distinguish light from darkness. In\ncertain star-fishes, small depressions in the layer of pigment-cells\nare filled with transparent gelatinous matter projecting with a convex\nsurface like a rudimentary cornea, and this, it has been suggested, may\nserve, not only to form an image, but to concentrate the luminous rays.\nIn insects, the numerous facets in the cornea of their great compound\neyes have now been ascertained to form true lenses, the cones, moreover,\nhaving been discovered to include curiously modified nervous filaments.\nIt is impossible not, in this series of changes, to perceive the\nappearance of graduation, nor ought there to be much difficulty in\nbelieving the apparent graduation to be real, when we consider how few\ncomparatively are the still living forms in which the changes cited have\nbeen observed, and how far more numerous the extinct forms by which\nintermediate changes may have been presented. If there be no\nextravagance in supposing that natural selection may have occasioned\nthese early steps, neither is there any in supposing that, by continued\nprogress in the same direction, it may at length have fabricated the\nmost perfect optical instrument possessed by any member of the\n_articulata_. And, if credited so far, why not still further? why not\nwith competence to form a man's or an eagle's eye? So far I am as\ncompletely at one with Mr. Darwin in respect to the eye as in respect to\nany other of the subjects taken by him for illustration. The fact is,\nhowever, that in this, as in every similar instance, he has completely\nevaded the real difficulties of the case. It is not a whit more\nstartling to be told that the most complex eye, with all the latest\nimprovements, than to be told that the earliest rudiment of an optic\nnerve, may have been formed by the gradual accumulation of minute\ndifferences. Only allow time enough for the requisite accumulation, and\nneither operation is one whit more unintelligible than the other. The\ndifficulty, equally and utterly insuperable in both cases, is to\nunderstand how the difference can have been undesigned. 'How a nerve\ncomes to be sensitive to light,' says Mr. Darwin, 'hardly concerns us\nmore than how life itself originated.' Perhaps not; nor, indeed, very\nwell could it, for the second question of the two is surely one of\nalmost unsurpassed concernment; but, at any rate, when either of the two\nis asked, nothing can be more reprehensible than, by studiously ignoring\nthe only alternative reply, to leave it to be inferred that the nerve\nmade itself, or that life caused itself to live, that both are in short\nexamples of what Mr. Darwin strangely calls '_variation causing\nalterations_.'[41] Let us briefly consider a few of the results supposed\nto be attributable to this singular process. The eye, as every reader of\ncourse knows, though here and there one perhaps may not be the worse for\nbeing reminded, consists of four coats--the _sclerotic_, outermost and\nstrongest, which constitutes the white of the eye; the circular, tough,\nand coloured, yet pellucid, _cornea_, in the centre of which is seen the\npupil; the _choroid_, full charged with black pigment, and lining the\nsclerotic; the _retina_, an expansion of the optic nerve, lining in its\nturn the choroid; of the _iris_, a flat membrane, dividing the eye into\ntwo very unequally-sized chambers; of a lens termed the _crystalline_,\nsuspended in the posterior chamber immediately behind the iris; and of\ntwo humours (also virtual lenses), whereof one, the _aqueous_, is\nenclosed in the anterior chamber formed by the iris and the cornea,\nwhile the other, the _vitreous_, fills the whole of the posterior\nchamber save what is occupied by the crystalline lens. By what nice\ninterlacement of filaments the fibrous ring that margins the pupil, or\naperture through the iris, regulates the admission of light, contracting\nor expanding, yet always preserving its circular form, according as the\nbrilliance is excessive or deficient; how the humours or lenses are\ncontinually varying in figure and relative position so as to concentrate\nevery pencil of light admitted on that point exactly where the retina is\nspread out to receive it; how, according as the object looked at is near\nat hand or far off, certain muscles perform quite opposite services,\nrendering the cornea more or less prominent, pushing the crystalline\nlens forward or backward, and thereby lengthening or shortening the axis\nof vision, so that, whether the rays enter divergently from a near\nobject, or parallel from a remote one, they equally fall into focus at\nthe same distance beyond, and equally form on the retina a picture of\nthe object from which they come, perhaps compressing a landscape of five\nor six square leagues into a space of half an inch diameter, and anon\nallowing the page of a book or a dinner-plate to occupy the entire field\nof vision--to these and to any kindred marvels it would be superfluous\nmore than momentarily to refer. Suffice it to note how measureless the\nsuperiority, as a mere piece of mechanism, of an average eye to the\nfinest of telescopes, and how just, nevertheless, is the\ntelescope-maker's claim to praise for skilful adaptation to the laws of\noptics, when he has succeeded in a faint and feeble imitation of some\nminor part of nature's visual apparatus. Yet nature's original and\ninfinitely more beautiful aptitudes we are forbidden to deem\nadaptations, being required instead to regard them as self-produced, or,\nat any rate, as having been undesigned. Now I unreservedly admit that,\namong all conceivable forms, among the most exquisitely beautiful and\nmost usefully intricate and complex, there is not one which may not\npossibly have been produced without aim or purpose by the mere\nrestlessness of elemental forces; the amount of probability of their\nhaving been so produced being, however, according to the formula already\nset forth in its proper place, as one to infinity multiplied more or\nless frequently by itself. But what adequate superlative shall we invent\nto express the credulity, the credulosity run mad, of those who, in a\nmatter of scientific belief, deliberately accept such odds. Observe how\nat once extravagantly gratuitous and painfully elaborate such\ncredulosity is; how easily, on the one hand, all its ends could be\nserved by the simple expedient of supposing a superintending\nintelligence; how, on the other, it compels ingenuity like Mr. Darwin's\nto entrench itself behind a phrase of utterly unmeaning gibberish.\n\nIf you see a man moving slowly, with head down, over an extensive plain,\nyou may fairly suspect that he does not know where he is going, and\npossibly does not mean to go anywhere in particular. But if you perceive\nthat on reaching a ditch he takes a leap over, you are quite sure that,\nwhen leaping, he meant to get to the other side. To that extent his\nsaltatory movement is unequivocal evidence of design. It is perhaps to\nescape the necessity of a similar inference that Mr. Darwin so\nfrequently quotes the proverb _Natura non facit saltum_; but, if so, he\nleans on a broken reed--on a bit of proverbial philosophy as weak as the\nweakest of Mr. Tupper's. That Nature does sometimes make a leap, and a\npretty long one, must be obvious to any visitor to the Museum of the\nLondon College of Surgeons, who has examined the two-headed and\nfour-legged human foeti there preserved in spirits. It may be said\nthat these are leaps in the wrong direction. Be it so. Still, whoever\ncan leap backward can make an equal leap forward, and most people will\nfind the latter the easier feat of the two. The power, whatever it be,\nthat coupled together the Siamese Twins, and gave to those respected\nbrothers, the late William and Robert Chambers of Edinburgh, twelve\nfingers and twelve toes apiece, would not have gone at all more out of\nthe way by doing, suddenly and at once, several of those things which\nMr. Darwin doubts not that it does slowly and by degrees--by single\nacts, for instance, instead of by a succession of acts, aggregating into\nthe semblance of an optic nerve certain elements in the _sarcode_ of\ncertain low organisms, spreading out the nerve thus formed into a\nnetwork or retina, forming a number of separate pigment-cells into a\nhomogeneous cornea, and following up these first steps by others which,\nhow much soever more apparently complex, would cost comparatively little\nafter the earlier and simpler ones had been taken. Now let but the power\ncompetent to do these things be credited with sense enough to be aware\nof its competence, and it may then be regarded as not unlikely to have\ndone some of them on purpose. Whereupon, the genesis of the eye ceases\nto be a mystery. All the appearances of contrivance that have resulted\nfrom the operation find their obvious and complete explanation in the\nassumption of a contriver, and all such hazy films as that of\nvariability producing variation cease to be capable of serving as\nexcuses for wilful blindness. And why should not the power in question\nbe so credited? Here is Mr. Darwin's solitary reason why. He doubts\nwhether the inference implied may not be 'presumptuous.' He apprehends\nthat we have no 'right to assume that the Creator works by intellectual\npowers like those of a man.' Truly, of all suggested modes of marking\nrespect for creative power, that of assuming it to have worked\nunintelligently is the most original.\n\nThe hypothesis offered by Mr. Darwin in explanation of the most perfect\nof organic structures, is deemed by him to be equally explanatory of the\nmost marvellous of animal instincts. Parenthetically, here, never having\nas yet met with a definition of instinct which I am able to accept as\nsatisfactory, I make bold to offer a description of my own. Instinct is\ninnate knowledge how to perform any useful actions, accompanied by a\ntendency or propensity to perform those actions, but wholly\nunaccompanied by knowledge of any purpose which they can serve. This is\npure instinct, an example whereof is afforded by the beaver, of which\nanimal I have somewhere read that one caught when newly born, and\nbrought up by itself in a room in its captor's house, proceeded after a\nwhile to build up across the apartment the semblance of a dam, composed\nof brushes, rugs, billets of wood, and other litter. Pure instinct\ndiffers essentially, not in degree only, but in kind, from reason, which\nis not knowledge, but an instrument for acquiring knowledge. Instinct,\nhowever, is rarely if ever found pure, being apparently always\naccompanied by more or less of reason. Even a polype makes some show of\nreason by moving its _cilia_ in one mode when it desires to suck in\nfood, and in another when it merely wishes to move on; while it is\nscarcely possible for an unprejudiced spectator to doubt of its being by\na rational deduction from experience that a dog knows that it will get\nkicked if it presume to snatch at the meat on its master's plate,\ninstead of waiting for the scraps he may be pleased to throw to it when\nhe has done. Instinct by necessary implication involves habit; habit as\nnecessarily always more or less modifies structure; structural\nmodification always may be, and often is, inherited, carrying with it a\ntendency to the habit out of which itself arose; therefore habit and\ninstinct are likewise heritable. Some instincts are originated\nartificially. The reason why, on the very first opportunity, a young\npointer has been known to point at game, and a young sheep-dog to run\nround, instead of at, a flock of sheep, is that some of their respective\nancestors had been carefully trained so to point and to wheel. These,\nhowever, are exceptions to the general rule. Most instincts are of what\nevery one would call natural, and Mr. Darwin calls 'spontaneous' origin,\nhe explaining the meaning of the latter term to be that the slight\nvariations from a primordial type, the accumulation of which is\nconsidered by him to constitute actual instinct, are 'variations\nproduced by the same unknown causes as those which produce slight\ndeviations of bodily structure.' But here I am once more compelled to\njoin issue with him. Of the causes which he styles unknown, I maintain\nthat we know at least thus much--either they are themselves intelligent\nforces, or they are forces acting under intelligent direction; and in\nsupport of this proposition I need not perhaps do more than show from\nMr. Darwin's example what infinitely harder things must be accepted by\nthose who decline to accept this.\n\nMr. Darwin, like every really truth-loving controversialist, far from\ndesiring to shroud, invites special attention to any seeming weaknesses\nin his position; and, therefore, when contending that all the faculties\ncommonly classed as instincts, are exclusively due to natural selection,\nof course takes care to particularise the cellmaking faculty of the hive\nbee. And here, again, I gladly bear my humble testimony to the partial\nsuccess he has achieved. Although bound to protest against the claim set\nup by him, on behalf of natural selection, to the entire credit of\nproducing the hive bee's most remarkable characteristic, I cannot but\nthink he has succeeded in removing all the apparent difficulties of\nbelieving that natural selection's share may have been not less\nimportant in that than in any other productive operation in which it\ntakes part.\n\nIn popular estimation the hive bee is a heaven-born mathematician which,\nhaving been set the problem how to fill a given space with waxen cells\nwith the least loss of room and expenditure of material, arrives by\nintuition and instantaneously at a solution which Newton himself was\nignorant of, and to which, but for his discovery of the fluxional\ncalculus, it would have been impossible for his follower, Maclaurin, to\nattain. And, doubtless, it may excusably be deemed supernatural that the\ninsect should adopt off-hand precisely that six-sided figure, and\nprecisely that inclination of the angles of the same figure's pyramidal\nroof or floor, which, only by very refined and recondite investigation,\ncan be scientifically shown to be those best fitted for the purpose. Mr.\nDarwin has, however, adduced strong grounds for supposing the amazing\narchitectural skill thus displayed to have been acquired, not suddenly,\nbut by the same slow degrees as those which are so clearly traceable\nthroughout organic progress in general. At the lower end of a short\napiary series, he observed humble bees using their old cocoons for\nhoney pots, sometimes adding to them short tubes of wax, and likewise\nmaking separate and very irregular cells entirely of wax. At the higher\nend of the series, he saw hive bees making double layers of cells, each\ncell an hexagonal prism with the basal ends of its six sides bevelled so\nas to fit on to a pyramid formed of three rhombs, and each of the three\nrhombs which compose the pyramidal base of a single cell on one side of\nthe comb entering into the composition of one of the three adjoining\ncells on the opposite side. Intermediately, he found the Mexican\n_meliponae domesticae_ depositing their honey in cells nearly spherical,\nand of nearly equal sizes. 'These cells, although aggregated into a mass\notherwise irregular, are always at such a degree of nearness to each\nother that they would have intersected or broken into each other if the\nspheres had been completed. But this is never permitted, the bees\nbuilding perfectly flat walls of wax between the spheres which thus tend\nto intersect. Hence, each cell consists of an outer spherical portion,\nand of two, three, or more, perfectly flat surfaces, according as the\ncell adjoins two, three, or more cells; and when one cell rests on three\nothers, as from the spheres being nearly of the same size is very\nfrequently and necessarily the case, the three flat surfaces are united\ninto a pyramid rudely resembling the three-sided pyramidal base of the\nhive bee's cell, and necessarily enter, like the three rhombs of the\nlatter, into the construction of three adjoining cells.' Reflecting on\nthese remarkable gradations, it occurred to Mr. Darwin that if the\nmelipona were to make its spheres of precisely equal sizes, and to\narrange them symmetrically in double layers, and were further so to\ndispose them as that the centre of each should be at the distance of\nradius x [mathematical symbol 'square root']2 or radius x 1.41421 from the\ncentres of the six surrounding spheres in the same layer, and at the\nsame distance from the centres of the adjoining spheres in the other and\nparallel layer--then 'if planes of intersection between the several\nspheres on both layers were formed, there would result a double layer of\nhexagonal prisms united together by pyramidal bases formed of three\nrhombs; and the rhombs and the sides of the hexagonal prisms would have\nevery angle identically the same with the best measurements that have\nbeen made of the cells of the hive bee.' Then, submitting this view to\nProfessor Miller of Cambridge, he had the gratification of being assured\nby that distinguished geometer that it was strictly correct. Certainly a\nvery happy example of an ingenious conjecture verified by a species of\ndemonstration hardly inferior to the experimental. Certainly a very\nvaluable testimony to the soundness of all the main and really essential\nprinciples of Darwinism. Good cause, certainly, is hereby shown for\nbelieving that the cell-making faculty of the hive bee may be nothing\nmore than the aggregate of many minute and successive improvements upon\nthat of the melipona, and this, again, than a similar aggregate of\nimprovements on that of the humble bee; and for believing further that\nhive bee and melipona may both be either descendants from the humble\nbee, or joint-descendants with it from some still earlier common\nprogenitor. In order to believe this it suffices to believe that a bee\nwhich at one period made, like the humble bee, cells very unequally\nsized and irregularly rounded, came gradually, in the course of time, to\nmake them as nearly equal in size and as nearly spherical as those of\nthe melipona; and subsequently, during a further lapse of time, came to\narrange them at the same distances from each other, and in double\nlayers like those of the humble bee. To assume thus much requires no\ninordinate stretch of faith; and thus much being assumed, it is seen at\nonce that the hive bee, requiring for its cells only about half as much\nwax as the humble bee does, and consequently only about half as much\nhoney for the secretion of the requisite wax, would, in a struggle for\nexistence, leave the humble bee so little chance that in all probability\nthe two species would nowhere coexist, were it not for the special\nresource derived by the humble bee from possession of a trunk long\nenough to enter the nectaries of certain flowers, which the shorter\ntrunk of the hive bee is unable to tap. But though there be no\ndifficulty in assuming the improvements in question to have gradually\ntaken place, and to have become aggregated in the manner supposed, there\nis, to my mind, an insuperable objection to supposing that successive\ngenerations of bees should have successively adopted the improvements\nwithout either having the sense to know what they were doing, or being\nprompted by some superior intelligence that did know. I will not be so\nsuperfluous as to exaggerate the difficulty. Passing over the earlier\nstages of the process, and confining myself to one or two of the later,\nI will content myself with showing how infinitesimally small, when\nmagnified to the utmost, are the chances in favour of these having been\npassed through blindly. I will admit it to be possible that in a society\nof purely meliponish habits, there might, in virtue of one or other of\nthose inscrutable causes classed under the general name of spontaneous\nvariation, arise some two or three individuals with an innate propensity\nto make accurately spherical and equally sized cells; that these\nindividuals, if either males or fertile females, and not sterile\nneuters, might help to generate others with the same propensity, these\nagain generating others, and so on, until the greater part or the whole\nof the community became possessed of the same constructive aptitude. I\nwill admit further that, in virtue of the same inscrutable causes,\nindividuals, at first few, but gradually increasing in number, might\nsimilarly be born with the additional tendency to make cells at the\nsame, and that the most appropriate, distance from all adjoining cells;\nand will freely acknowledge that the bees, modifying their previous mode\nof construction, as meliponae necessarily would do under these altered\ncircumstances, would construct a layer of cells similar in all respects\nto those on one side of the hive bee's comb, except that their bases\nwould be flat instead of pyramidal. Further, I admit that the bases\nwould become pyramidal in case the bees should set about constructing\ndouble instead of single layers of cells on the same principle. Not a\nlittle liberality is required for these admissions. For, in the first\nplace, the fact of the bees having acquired the habit of making perfect\nand equally sized spheres would not of itself be of any obvious benefit\neither to individual bees or to the society at large: in order that it\nshould enable material and labour to be saved it would have to be\naccompanied by the habit of making the cells at special distances from\neach other. And, in the second place, though some few individuals should\npresent themselves with an innate tendency to choose these special\ndistances, whatever advantage might result therefrom, whatever saving of\nmaterial or labour, would be shared in equally by the whole community,\nthe particular individuals to whom it was due benefiting by it no more\nthan any of the rest, and not being, in consequence, more likely than\nthey to survive in any struggle for existence, or to leave behind them\noffspring inheriting their special characteristics. No help, therefore,\ncan be derived from Mr. Darwin's principles towards conjecturing why a\nsmall minority of such specially endowed bees should be gradually\nconverted into a majority, and should eventually constitute the whole\ncommunity, thereupon becoming in fact converted into a new species. Let\nus, however, liberally waive this and all similar objections, and assume\na community of hive bees to have been, in the utterly unaccountable\nmanner indicated by the term spontaneous variation, developed from a\nmeliponish stock. Unfortunately, all our liberality will be found to\nhave been thrown away without perceptibly simplifying the problem to be\nsolved. For, whatever be among meliponae the distribution of the\ngenerative capacities, among hive bees, at any rate, all workers are\nsterile neuters, which never have any offspring to whom to bequeath\ntheir cellmaking skill, while the queen bee and drones, which alone can\nbecome parents, have no such skill to bequeath. Clearly the formula of\n'descent with modification by natural selection,' is, in its literal\nsense, utterly inapplicable here. In whatever manner the cell-making\nfaculty might have been acquired by the first homogeneous swarm of hive\nbees, it must inevitably have terminated with the generation with which\nit commenced, if transmission by direct descent had been necessary for\nits continuance. The only resource open to Mr. Darwin is to suppose, not\nmerely (what is, indeed, obviously the fact) that queen bee after queen\nbee, besides generating each in turn a progeny of workers endowed with\ninstincts which their parents did not possess and could not therefore\nimpart, generated also princess bees destined in due season to generate\na working progeny similarly endowed with instincts underived from their\nparents; but to suppose further that all this has happened in the total\nabsence of aim, object, intention, or design. Now that all this should\nhave so happened, although not absolutely inconceivable, nor, therefore,\nabsolutely impossible, is surely too incredible to be believed except in\ndespair of some other hypothesis a trifle less preposterous. It is\nsurely not worth while to set the doctrine of probabilities so\ncompletely at naught, for the sake of an explanation which avowedly\nleaves every difficulty unexplained, referring them all to causes not\nsimply unknown but unconjecturable. What excuse, then, have\nphilosophers, of all people, for doing this in preference to the simple\nexpedient of supposing that, although the parturient bee, queen or\nother, cannot intend that any of her progeny should be more bounteously\nendowed than herself, there is an independent intelligence that does so\nintend? To content oneself with pronouncing such preference to be\neminently unscientific is tenderness of language nearly akin, I fear, to\nliterary bathos.\n\n\nIII.\n\nI have said that the form of unbelief to which, on the principle of\ncalling a spade a spade, I have taken the liberty of giving the name of\nScientific Atheism, manifests itself now-a-days rather by ignoration\nthan by formal denial of God. This, however, is not a new feature in any\natheism really worthy of being styled scientific. Even as Mr. Darwin\nverbally recognises a Creator, although without assigning to Him any\nshare in creation, even so Kant, when more than a century ago\nundertaking, in his 'General Natural History and Theory of the Celestial\nBodies,'[42] to account for the constitution and mechanical origin of\nthe universe on Newtonian principles, spoke of the elements as deriving\ntheir essential qualities from the 'eternal thought of the Divine\nIntelligence,' without, however, crediting the said Intelligence with\nhaving interposed in order to carry out His thoughts. 'Give me matter,'\nhe says, 'and I will build the world;' and without other data than\ndiffused atoms of matter endowed with simple attractive and repulsive\nforces, he proceeds to expound a complete cosmogony.\n\nHe pictures to himself the universe as originally an infinite expansion\nof minutely subdivided matter, and supposing a single centre of\nattraction to be somewhere therein set up, he endeavours to show that\nthe result must be a prodigious central body surrounded by systems of\nsolar and planetary worlds in all stages of development. 'In vivid\nlanguage,' says Professor Huxley,[43] 'he describes the great\nworld-maelstrom widening the margin of its prodigious eddy in the slow\nprogress of millions of ages, gradually reclaiming more and more of the\nmolecular waste, and converting chaos into cosmos.' Then, fixing his\nattention more particularly on our own system, he accounts for the\nrelation between the masses and densities of the planets and their\ndistances from the sun, for the eccentricity of their orbits, for their\nrotation, for their satellites, for the general agreement in the\ndirection of rotation among the celestial bodies, for Saturn's ring, and\nfor the zodiacal light. All this he does, according to Professor Huxley,\nby 'strict deduction from admitted dynamical principles,' and I, well\naware of my own inability to form an independent judgment on the point,\ngladly take so high an authority's word for it. For aught that I know,\nKant's attractive and repulsive forces being admitted, the establishment\nof centres of attraction, and of circle within circle of revolutions\nround them, and all his other details, would follow naturally and of\ncourse. I limit myself to asking, Whence these simple forces?--and when\nKant replies, 'From the Eternal Thought of the Divine Understanding,' I\nshould be the last to criticise if his answer stopped there.\nUnfortunately, he adds that the forces were 'evolved without purpose';\nin other words, that the Intelligence which thought them into existence\nfailed to think of any purpose for them. 'Matter,' he proceeds, 'is\npurely _passive_, yet, nevertheless, has in its simplest state a\n_determination_ towards the assumption of a more perfect constitution in\nthe way of natural development, whereby it _breaks up_ rest, _stirs_ up\nnature, gives to chaos shape.' For the elements whereof this passively\nstirring up matter is composed 'have native powers of setting each other\nin motion, and are to themselves a spring of life;' and when, having of\ncourse being previously dead, they have given themselves life, they\nforthwith begin to attract each other with a strength varying with their\nvarying degrees of specific gravity. The scattered elements of the\ndenser sort collect by attraction all particles of less specific gravity\nout of their immediate neighbourhood, and are themselves similarly\ncollected by particles of still denser sort, these again by others\ndenser yet, and so on, until, as results of this particular action,\nseveral masses are formed which in like manner would converge towards\nand be united with the largest and densest of their number, were it not\nthat the counter principle of repulsion now comes into play. This\nprinciple--familiarly exemplified in the elasticity of vapours, the\nemanations from strong smelling substances, and the expansion of all\nspirituous substances--causes the vertical movements of the converging\nmasses to be deflected laterally, so as ultimately to enclose the\ncentral mass within circles which, at first intersecting each other in\nall directions, are at length, by dint of mutual collision, made all to\nrevolve in the same direction, and nearly the same plane.\n\nNow I most earnestly protest against being suspected of what in me would\nbe the intolerable impertinence of desiring to cast ridicule on these\nmagnificent speculations, the grandeur of which I thoroughly appreciate\nso far as my scant mathematics enable me to follow them. I take\nexception to them only because the language in which they are couched\nseems to imply that operations, of whose nature one of the most powerful\nof human intellects could, at its utmost stretch, catch only a faint\nhazy inkling, may yet have been initiated and perfected without the\nintervention of any intellect at all. This is a falsism against which my\nrespect for philosophy and philosophers makes me only all the more\nindignant when I find any of the latter falling into it, as those of\nthem inevitably must who, busying themselves, early or late,\n\n              With a mighty debate,\n  A profound speculation about the creation\n  And organical life, and chaotical strife,\n  With various notions of heavenly motions,\n  And rivers and oceans, and valleys and mountains,\n  And sources of fountains, and meteors on high,\n  And stars in the sky,--propose by and bye,\n\nlike John Hookham Frere's Aristophanic Birds,\n\n  If we'll listen and hear,\n  To make perfectly clear\n\nhow creation took place without a conscious Creator. All their fancied\nsolutions of this hopeless puzzle have one feature in common--a family\nlikeness which the wickedest wit finds it difficult to caricature. There\nis a note to Frere and Canning's 'Loves of the Triangles' which the\nreader will be grateful to me for transcribing here, the more frequently\nhe may have laughed at it already, laughing now all the more, and\nlaughing heartily at it now though he may never have before.\n\nIt begins by tracing the genesis or original formation of _Space_ to a\nsingle point, in the same manner as the elder Darwin had, in his\n'Zoonomia,' traced the whole organized universe to his six Filaments. It\nrepresents this primeval Point or _Pinctum saliens_ of the universe,\nafter '_evolving itself by its own energies_, to have moved forwards in\na right line _ad infinitum_ till it grew tired.' Whereupon, 'the right\nline which it had generated would begin to put itself in motion in a\nlateral direction, describing an area of infinite extent. This area, as\nsoon as it became conscious of its own existence, would begin to ascend\nor descend, according as its specific weight might determine, forming an\nimmense solid space filled with vacuum, and capable of containing the\npresent existing universe.'\n\n  Thus slow progressive points protract the line,\n  As pendant spiders spin the filmy twine:\n  Thus lengthened lines impetuous sweeping round,\n  Spread the wide plane, and mark its circling bound;\n  Thus planes, their substance with their motion grown,\n  Form the huge cube, the cylinder, the cone.\n\nIt then proceeds as follows:--\n\n'SPACE being thus obtained, and presenting a suitable _nidus_ or\nreceptacle for the _generation_ of _chaotic matter_, an immense deposit\nof it would gradually be accumulated; after which the filament of fire\nbeing produced in the chaotic mass by an _idiosyncrasy_ or _self-formed\nhabit_ analogous to fermentation, explosion would take place, suns would\nbe shot from the central chaos, planets from suns, and satellites from\nplanets. In this state of things, the filament of organization would\nbegin to exert itself in those independent masses which, in proportion\nto their bulk, exposed the greatest surface to the action of light and\nheat. This filament, after an infinite series of ages, would begin to\nramify, and its viviparous offspring would diversify their forms and\nhabits so as to accommodate themselves to the various _incunabula_ which\nnature had prepared for them. Upon this view of things, it seems highly\nprobable that the first effort of Nature terminated in the production of\nvegetables, and that these being abandoned to their own energies, by\ndegrees detached themselves from the surface of the earth, and supplied\nthemselves with wings and feet, according as their different\npropensities determined them in favour of aerial or terrestrial\nexistence. Others, by an inherent disposition to society and\ncivilisation, and by a stronger effort of volition, would become men.\nThese in time would restrict themselves to the use of their hind feet;\ntheir tails would gradually rub off by sitting in their caves or huts as\nsoon as they arrived at a domesticated state; they would invent language\nand the use of fire, with our present and hitherto imperfect system of\nsociety. In the meantime, the _Fuci_ and _Algae_, with the Corallines and\nMadrepores, would transform themselves into fish, and gradually\npopulate all the submarine portions of the globe.'[44]\n\nAlthough the writers of this delicious drollery seem to have had Dr.\nErasmus Darwin only in view, they could not, we thus see, parody his\npeculiar crotchets without hitting off not less neatly some of the\ncorresponding extravagances of both earlier and later expounders of\nNature. Nature is a phrase which, greatly to the confusion of those who\nso employ it, is habitually used simultaneously in two quite opposite\nsenses, so as to denote at the same time both the agency in virtue of\nwhose action the universe exists, and likewise the universe itself which\nresults from that action. Nature, in either signification, becomes to a\ngreat extent interpretable when the agency so designated is credited\nwith sufficient sense to foresee and to intend the results of its own\naction. On that condition, although among the many unsolved problems she\nmay continue to present there will be some evidently lying beyond the\nlimits of human comprehension, there will be none running counter to\nhuman reason. Except on that condition, the universe is not simply\nuninterpretable, it is a bewildering assemblage of irreconcilable\ncertainties. Philosophy's choice lies between such patent truisms as\nthat there can be no force but living force, no _vis_ but _vis vivida_,\nno _vis inertiae_ otherwise than metaphorically, and such blatant\nfalsisms as that inertness and exertion may coincide, unintelligence\ngenerate intelligence, agency of whatsoever sort produce, merely by its\nown act, and merely out of its own essence, other agency capable of\nhigher action than its own. Philosophy, when with these sets of\nalternatives before her she deliberately chooses the latter, becomes\nScientific Atheism, all the varieties of which have one point in common,\nresembling each other in their proneness to rush upon and embrace\ndemonstrable impossibilities for the sake of avoiding a few things hard\nto be understood. One variety, however, the Comtist, far exceeds all the\nrest in the lengths to which it is carried by this propensity.\n\n\nIV.\n\nIf, in speaking as I am about to do of Comtism, I commit--heedless of\nMr. Lewes' solemn warning--the grave offence of speaking confidently\nabout a writer whom I have never read, I may at least plead in\nextenuation of my fault, that, although my knowledge of that writer be\nconfessedly merely an echo of what others have said of him, those\nothers, at any rate, far from being his antagonists, are two of the most\nardent of his not undiscriminating admirers. It is from Mr. Mill[45] and\nfrom Mr. Lewes[46] himself that I have derived the notions of Comtist\nphilosophy that suggest to me the following notes.\n\nI lay no stress on certain flaws in the fundamental propositions that\n'we have no knowledge of anything but phenomena, and that our knowledge\nof phenomena is only relative, not absolute; that we know not the\nessence nor the real mode of production of any fact, but only its\nrelations to other facts in the way of succession or similitude; that\nthe constant resemblances which link phenomena together, and the\nconstant sequences which unite them as antecedent and consequent, are\nall we know about them, and that their causes, whether efficient or\nfinal, are unknown and inscrutable.' I will only suggest that our mere\nconsciousness of possessing some knowledge of phenomena is itself a\nknowledge distinct from the knowledge which constitutes its\nsubject--distinct, that is, from the knowledge of phenomena; that if it\nwere possible for us to be aware of only one single fact, we should know\nsomething about that fact, notwithstanding that there were no other\nfacts which it could be perceived to have preceded or followed, or to\nwhich it could be likened, even as a polype with a stomach-ache would\nknow something about a stomach-ache, although ignorant that it had a\nstomach, and oblivious of any former sensation, whether painful or\npleasurable; and that if the causes of phenomena be utterly unknown, our\nignorance of them ought not to be so signified as to sound like\nknowledge, as it does when resemblances are said to link, and sequences\nto unite, phenomena together, thereby warranting the inference that one\nphenomenon succeeds another _because_ the two are so linked and united.\n\nThese, however, are trifles--mere spots on the sun one might say, were\nbut the surface on which they appear altogether sunlike--and I leave\nthem without additional remark except that, although it may perhaps have\nbeen hypercritical to point them out, still the language of a new\nphilosophy, claiming to supersede all old ones, ought to be proof even\nagainst hypercriticism. I pass on to a generalisation, termed by Mr.\nMill 'the key to Comte's other generalisations: one on which all the\nothers are dependent, and which forms the back-bone, so to speak, of his\nphilosophy,' insomuch that 'unless it be true he has accomplished\nlittle.' This is the so much vaunted discovery that all human thought\npasses necessarily through three stages, beginning with the\ntheological, and proceeding through the metaphysical to the positive.\nThese three terms, however, in the novel sense in which they are used by\nComte, stand very urgently in need of definition. By the theological is\nto be understood that stage of the mind in which the facts of the\nuniverse are regarded as governed by single and direct volitions of a\nbeing or beings possessed of life and intelligence. It is the stage in\nwhich winds are supposed to blow, seas to rage, trees to grow, and\nmountains to tower aloft, either because winds, seas, trees, and\nmountains are themselves alive and so act of their own accord; or\nbecause there is a spirit dwelling in each of them which desires that it\nshall so act; or because each separate class of objects is superintended\nby an out-dwelling divinity, which similarly desires; or, finally,\nbecause one single divinity, supreme over all things, initiates and\nmaintains all the apparently spontaneous movements of inanimate bodies.\nIn the metaphysical stage, phenomena are ascribed not to volitions,\neither sublunary or celestial, but to realised abstractions--to\nproperties, qualities, propensities, tendencies, forces, regarded as\nreal existences, inherent in but distinct from the concrete bodies in\nwhich they reside; while the characteristic of the positive stage is the\nuniversal recognition that all phenomena without exception are governed\nby invariable laws, with which no volitions, natural or supernatural,\ninterfere. These being the three stages, the discovery of which as a\nseries necessarily passed through by human thought in its progress\ntowards maturity, constitutes one of Comte's chief glories, I almost\ntremble at my own audacity, shrinking from the sound myself am making,\nwhen by inexorable sense of duty constrained to declare that the grand\ndiscovery is after all merely that of a distinction without a\ndifference.\n\nWhat Comte chiefly condemned in the metaphysical mode of thought, are\nthe conception of mental abstractions as real entities which exert power\nand produce phenomena, and the enunciation of these entities as\nexplanations of the phenomena; and certainly 'it is,' as Mr. Mill says,\nor rather was, previously to his own ingenious solution of it, 'one of\nthe puzzles of philosophy, how mankind, after inventing a set of mere\nnames to keep together certain combinations of ideas and images, could\nhave so far forgotten their own act as to invest these creations of\ntheir will with objective reality, and mistake the name of a phenomenon\nfor its efficient cause.' Those natural laws, however, on which\nPositivism relies--are not they as purely mental abstractions as the\nessences, virtues, properties, forces, and what not, for which it is\nproposed to substitute them? Yet since Positivism regards these laws as\n'governing' phenomena, and having phenomena 'subject' to them, must it\nnot necessarily regard them likewise as realised abstractions, as real\nentities? Plainly, if its language be taken literally, its professors\nmust acknowledge that it does, unless they prefer to stultify themselves\nby propounding such unmitigated nonsense as that power may be exercised,\nand phenomena produced, by _non_-entities. But if so, what else is\nPositivism than another form of that very metaphysicism which it\ncondemns? and a form, too, peculiarly obnoxious to Mr. Mill's caustic\nremark that 'as in religion, so in philosophy, men marvel at the\nabsurdity of other people's tenets, while exactly parallel absurdities\nremain in their own, and the same man is unaffectedly astonished that\nwords can be mistaken for things, who is treating other words as if they\nwere things every time he opens his mouth.'\n\nPossibly, however, it may be replied that 'government by natural laws'\nis a phrase which Positivists never use except metaphorically, and by\nwhich they never mean more than certain successions of events.[47] Very\nwell. Either, then, they acknowledge no real government of phenomena at\nall, in which case to speak of phenomena as governed by law is, if not a\npurely gratuitous mystification, as glaring an instance as can well be\nconceived of a 'bare enunciation of facts, put forward as a theory or\nexplanation of them:' or, if they do recognise real government, then\nthey must suppose that, behind those mere mental abstractions, laws or\norder of Nature, there must be some lawgiver or other being that\noriginally issued the laws, or ordained the order, and still enforces\nthem, or maintains it. But if this be the positivist faith, then, that\nwe may discover its other self, we have only to go still further back;\nas far back, however, as to the theological stage, supposed to have been\nso early left behind, yes, even unto the deities or deity that the\nmetaphysical entities had displaced. Positivism, in short, is in this\ndilemma: either the mode of thought claimed by it as peculiarly its own\nis simply that process so justly ridiculed by Comte himself as the 'naif\nreproduction of phenomena as the reason for themselves,' and by Mr.\nLewes as 'a restatement' (by way of explanation) 'of the facts to be\nexplained;' or it is at any rate nothing more than a return, either to\nthe metaphysical or to the theological mode of thought, according as one\nor the other is adopted of the only two interpretations that can\npossibly be placed on its own nomenclature. A new mode it certainly is\nnot. It is either no mode of thought at all, but merely an empty form of\nwords; or it is at best only a new name for one or other of two\nold-fashioned modes, both of which its author denounces as false from\nthe beginning, and now worn out and obsolete into the bargain.\n\nOf other features of Comtist philosophy it would be out of place to\nspeak here,[48] where, indeed, that philosophy would not have been\nmentioned at all but for its having been transformed by its author into\na religion, and that, too, an atheistical religion--the 'Religion of\nHumanity.' To myself, as to most people, a religion without a God is a\ncontradiction in terms. To constitute what is almost universally\nunderstood by religion it does not suffice that there be a 'creed or\nconviction claiming authority over the whole of human life: a belief or\nset of beliefs deliberately adopted respecting human destiny and duty,\nto which the believer inwardly acknowledges that all his actions ought\nto be subordinate:' nor that there be in addition 'a sentiment connected\nwith this creed or capable of being invoked by it, sufficiently powerful\nto give it, in fact, the authority over human conduct to which it lays\nclaim in theory:' nor yet that there be, moreover, 'an ideal object, the\nbeliever's attachment and sense of duty towards which are able to\ncontrol and discipline all his other sentiments and propensities, and\nprescribe to him a rule of life.'[49] That such an object is fully\ncapable of gathering round it feelings sufficiently strong to enforce\nthe most rigid rule of life, will certainly not be denied by me,\nprivileged as I am to count among my friends more than one whose whole\nlife is little else than a life of devotion to an object, 'the general\ninterest of the human race,' plainly incapable of affording them in\nexchange that 'eternity of personal enjoyment' to which ordinary\ndevotees look forward as their reward, and whose virtue I honour as\napproaching the sublime, on account of its independence of all the props\nand stimulants which ordinary virtue finds indispensable. But the\nsublimest virtue does not of itself constitute religion. For, besides\nthe 'creed,' 'conviction,' and 'sentiment' indicated above, there is\nneeded some suitable object of worship to which the soul may alternately\nbow down in humble reverence, and look up in fervent love--some being to\nwhom its prayer, praise, and thanksgiving may be fittingly addressed.\nThis want, recognised--as one of the few who do not recognise it\nadmits--by nine out of every ten persons, was distinctly recognised by\nComte, who, however, attempted to supply it by pointing, not to God, but\nto Man. His reason for this was not a conviction that there is no God.\nOn the contrary, he habitually disclaimed, not without acrimony,\ndogmatic atheism; and once even condescended so far as to declare that\n'the hypothesis of design has much greater verisimilitude than that of a\nblind mechanism.' But in the 'mature state of intelligence' at which his\nmind had arrived, 'conjecture founded on analogy did not seem to him a\nbasis to rest a theory upon.' He preferred a religious theory without a\nbasis, and therefore adopted one as destitute of support as the tortoise\non which stands the earth-upholding elephant of Hindoo mythology;\nselecting, as the 'Grand Etre' to be worshipped, 'the entire Human Race,\nconceived as a continuous whole, past, present, and future.' For this\ngreat collective _non_-existence, this compound of that which is, that\nwhich has been but has ceased to be, and that which is not yet, he\nelaborated a minute ritual of devotional observances, and would, if he\nhad had the chance, have consecrated a complete sacerdotal hierarchy,\nsubordinated to himself as supreme pontiff. Having, for fear of\nrecognising what possibly might not be, begun by, wilfully and with his\neyes open, recognising what could not possibly be, he proceeded to\ninvest this sanctified non-existence with precisely those attributes\nbest calculated to render it unfit to receive the admiration he\nprescribed for it. That feeble Humanity--the actually living portion\nthereof, that is--may need and be the better for our services, which\nDivine Omnipotence of course cannot be, was distinctly urged by him as a\nreason why _prayers_, or at least those outpourings of feeling which he\nso designated, should be addressed to the former and not to the latter.\nThat Humanity is in a constant state of progress, so that both the\ncollective mass and choice specimens of each successive generation of\nmen must always be superior to the corresponding masses and specimens of\nall previous generations, is a prime article of the Comtist creed; but\nnot the less is it an imperative injunction of the Comtist rubrick that\nreligious homage shall be paid, not only to the collective 'Grand Etre'\nof Humanity, but also to individual worthies of past ages--that\nsuperiors shall consequently fall down before, and worship, and take as\nmodels, their intellectual and moral inferiors. The fact of a religion\nmade up of tenets like these having been thought out by one of the\nprofoundest of reasoners does not prevent its being the very perfection\nof unreason. Even though on the one side there were nothing more than\nsome doubt whether Deity might not exist, still with complete certainty\non the other of the non-existence of 'Humanity,' Deity ought in fairness\nto have at least the benefit of the doubt. In selection for adoration,\nthat which only perhaps may be, at any rate deserves to be, preferred to\nthat which positively is not. The excess of superstition with which St.\nPaul reproached the Athenians, for raising an altar to the 'Unknown\nGod,' looks like excessive circumspection, beside the solemn dedication\nof temples to a chimera known not to be. Nay, even Isaiah's maker of\ngraven images is at length outdone. Even he who, having hewn down a\ntree, 'burneth part thereof in the fire, with part thereof eateth flesh,\nroasteth roast, and is satisfied, warmeth himself, and saith, Aha, I am\nwarm, I have seen the fire; and with the residue maketh a god, yea, his\ngraven image, and falleth down unto it and worshippeth it, and prayeth\nunto it, and saith, Deliver me, for thou art my god'--even he has at\nlast found more than his match in irrationality. For he has at least\nbefore him a visible tangible block of wood, not the mere memory of one\nthat has long ago rotted, nor the dream of one that is yet to grow,\nwhereas that mental figment, Consecrated Humanity, is not even a real\nshadow, but only a fancied one, a shadow cast by no substance. And it is\nto Comtists of all people--intellectual salt of the earth as they\nare--that this figment is recommended for adoration--yes, to those who,\npharisaically standing aloof from the common herd, thank their imaginary\nsubstitute for God, or whatever else it is they deem thankworthy, that\nthey are not blind as other men are, and least of all as those dazed\nmetaphysicians who actually personify their own mental abstractions. No\nwonder that such extreme provocation should try the patience of all but\nthe stanchest disciples. No wonder that Mr. Lewes himself should seem\nhalf inclined to apostrophise his quondam master in words resembling\nthose once addressed to Robespierre, 'Avec ton Grand Etre, tu commences\na m'embeter.'\n\nHere make we one more pause. This chapter's theme is, as was betimes\npremised, not the strength of theism, but the weakness of atheism. I\nhave in it attempted to execute a design which, according to Boswell,\nwas conceived by Lord Hailes, and approved by Dr. Johnson, that of\nwriting an essay, _Sur la credulite des incredules_, and I think I have\nsucceeded so far as to show that, if any one who can swallow atheism\naffects to strain at theism, it cannot, at any rate, be for want of a\nsufficiently capacious gullet.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[36] The story was thus told by Diderot, to Sir Samuel Romilly, when a\nyoung man:--'Je vous dirai un trait de lui, mais il vous sera un peu\nscandaleux peut-etre, car vous autres Anglais, vous croyez _un peu_ en\nDieu; pour nous autres, nous n'y croyons gueres. Hume dina dans une\ngrande compagnie avec le baron D'Holbach. Il etait assis a cote du\nbaron; on parla de la religion naturelle. \"Pour les athees,\" disait\nHume, \"je ne crois pas qu'il en existe; je n'en ai jamais vu!\" \"Vous\navez ete un peu malheureux,\" repondit l'autre, \"vous voici a table avec\ndix-sept pour la premiere fois.\"'--_Edinburgh Review_ for January 1847.\n\n[37] 'Studies in Animal Life,' chap. v.\n\n[38] The reader who, having skipped some of the earlier chapters, may\nfind this language obscure, is requested to turn back to the essay on\n'Huxleyism,' pp. 194-6.\n\n[39] See again, pp. 194-6.\n\n[40] 'Mr. Darwin's Hypotheses.' Part II. 'Fortnightly Review' for June\n1868.\n\n[41] 'Origin of Species,' p. 226.\n\n[42] Of this treatise, no English or French translation has, I believe,\nbeen published. For my own very limited acquaintance with it, I am\nindebted to the extreme kindness of my friend, Professor Croom\nRobertson, who has most obligingly favoured me with a manuscript version\nof the portion referred to in the text.\n\n[43] 'Lay Sermons,' p. 240.\n\n[44] 'Beauties of the Anti-Jacobin,' 1799, pp. 214-6.\n\n[45] 'Auguste Comte and Positivism,' _passim_.\n\n[46] 'History of Philosophy,' 4th edition, vol. ii. pp. 654-735.\n\n[47] Not that so restricted a meaning can, with any propriety, be placed\non positivist definitions of law. See, for instance, that of Mr. Lewes\n('History of Philosophy,' vol. ii. p. 701), who defines law to be 'the\ninvariable relation between two distinct phenomena, according to which\none depends on the other.'\n\n[48] Some few additional random remarks, however, though not permissible\nin the text may, perhaps, be less inappropriate in a note.\n\nMy scientific deficiencies do not prevent my understanding or, at least,\nfancying I understand, that Comte's famous 'Classification of the\nSciences' may be extremely serviceable as indicating in what order the\nsciences may most profitably be studied. That a student's general\nprogress would be swifter and surer if, before entering on physics or\nchemistry, he had already made considerable progress in algebra,\ngeometry, and mechanics, than if he commenced all five sciences\nsimultaneously, seems probable enough. If, however, the classification\nbe intended also to indicate historically the order in which the\nsciences have actually been studied, I cannot but suspect it to be\nmisleading. Certainly, if knowledge of number was the earliest knowledge\nacquired by man, those savage races which have not even yet learnt how\nto count beyond four, must have been content with very few lessons in\narithmetic when turning off to other branches of learning.\n\nAs to the measure of success that attended Comte's scheme of creating a\nPhilosophy of General Science, I presume not to utter one syllable of my\nown, preferring to cite what Mr. Mill says of that 'wonderful\nsystematization of the philosophy of all the antecedent sciences from\nmathematics to physiology, which, if he had done nothing else, would\nhave stamped him on all minds competent to appreciate it as one of the\nprincipal thinkers of the age.' In all sincerity, I say that the mere\nconception of the enterprise, whose vastness is so luminously expounded\nby Mr. Lewes, in the last edition of his 'History of Philosophy,' seems\nto me to betoken superior genius. I feel, as it were, simply awe-struck\nin the presence of an intellectual ambition, that within the brief span\nof one human life could aspire to a mastery over all the sciences,\nsufficient, first for co-ordinating the fundamental truths and special\nmethods, and so obtaining the philosophy of each, and then for\nco-ordinating the manifold philosophies so obtained, and--by condensing\nthem all into one homogeneous doctrine, and blending them into one\norganic whole, whereof each part would be seen to depend on all that\npreceded, and to determine all that succeeded--transforming all science\ninto philosophy.\n\nOne point however remains on which I shall speak with some confidence,\nthat, namely, of the inclusion among 'Comte's titles to immortal fame'\nof the creation of a Science of Sociology. 'What the law of gravitation\nis to astronomy, what the elementary properties of tissues are to\nphysiology,' that, says Mr. Lewes, in the opinion of Comte's disciples,\n'is the law of the three stages to sociology.' But if, as I have shown,\nthere are not really three but only two stages, the so-called third\nstage being simply a return to either the second or the first, the law\nof the three stages cannot be much of a law, nor the science of which it\nis the essence much of a science.\n\nMr. Lewes, nevertheless, maintains that M. Comte created Social Science.\nMr. Mill considers that he did not create it, but only proved its\ncreation to be possible. With all possible deference, I submit that what\nhe really did was to prove its creation to be impossible.\n\nIn a passage of Mr. Mill's 'Positivism,' quoted with approval in Mr.\nLewes's 'History of Philosophy,' and presumably, therefore, expressing\nthe sentiments of both writers, Comte is described as pronouncing\ninappropriate to the Science of Society, the method universally admitted\nto be proper to all other sciences--that, namely, of obtaining by\ninduction the laws of the elementary phenomena, then, from these laws\nthinking out deductively those of the complex phenomena, and, finally,\nof verifying by specific observation the laws obtained by deduction.\nAmong social phenomena, he is described as arguing, the elementary ones\nare human feelings and actions, the laws of which are the laws of\nuniversal human nature. But the human beings, on the laws of whose\nnature social facts depend, are not abstract or universal, but\nhistorical human beings, already shaped and made what they are, not by\nthe simple tendencies of universal human nature, but by the accumulated\ninfluence of past generations of human society. This being the case, the\nlaws of universal human nature evidently cannot serve as materials,\nwhence it would be possible for any powers of deduction, starting from\nthe bare conception of the Being Man, to predict beforehand how\nsuccessive generations of men would feel and act. Wherefore, in order to\nget at social laws, we must reverse the ordinary method, seizing upon\nany generalizations which the facts of history, empirically considered,\nwill supply, and then using the universal laws of human nature for the\nverification of these generalizations.\n\nI will not linger over the glaring inconsistency involved in the\nconclusion thus arrived at, of appealing, for the verification of\nempirical generalizations, to a species of deduction confessed to be\nimpracticable for want of the requisite materials. I prefer to show that\nfrom Comte's own premises, as rendered by Mr. Mill, necessarily results\na separate conclusion, absolutely fatal to his sociologically creative\npretensions. According to him, as we have seen, the laws of elementary\nsocial facts, or of human actions and feelings, are the laws of\nuniversal human nature, which latter can, of course, be no other than\nwhatever habits of invariably, in given circumstances, feeling and\nacting in given modes, may be common to all mankind. But it is admitted\nthat the particular generation of human beings at any time existing\nmust, by the accumulated influence of preceding generations, have been\nrendered very different from every preceding generation: and nothing is\nmore certain than that two generations differing widely from each other\nin character, would, in many given circumstances, not only not feel and\nact in precisely the same, but would inevitably feel and act in widely\ndifferent, manners. Nor is this all. The circumstances by which any\ngeneration is surrounded have been partly shaped for it by preceding\ngenerations, partly modified by itself--so that it is not possible for\nany two generations ever to find themselves in the same circumstances.\nWherefore, as there never can be a repetition of either men or of\ncircumstances precisely the same, it is manifestly impossible for any\nhabits of feeling and thinking, in given modes in given circumstances,\nto be common to any two generations of men, still less to universal\nmankind. In other words, there cannot possibly be any laws of human\nnature: and if no laws of human nature, then no laws of elementary\nsocial facts; and if no laws of elementary social facts, then no laws of\ncomplex social facts; and if no laws of social facts, elementary or\ncomplex, then no single particle of material wherewith to build up the\nScience of Society or Sociology.\n\n[49] 'Auguste Comte and Positivism,' pp. 133-4.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n_LIMITS OF DEMONSTRABLE THEISM._\n\n     Thought without Reverence is barren. The man who cannot wonder, who\n     does not habitually wonder (and worship), were he president of\n     innumerable Royal Societies, and carried the whole _Mecanique\n     Celeste_ and Hegel's _Philosophy_, and the epitome of all\n     laboratories and observatories with their results, in his single\n     head, is but a pair of spectacles, behind which there is no eye.\n     Let those who have eyes look through him; then he may be\n     useful.--_Sartor Resartus._\n\n\n'I wouldn't mind,' said once a representative of extreme heterodoxy, in\ndebate with a champion of its diametrical opposite--'I wouldn't mind\nconceding the Deity you contend for, were it not for the use commonly\nmade of him after he is conceded.' And no doubt that use is such as\nmight well provoke a saint, provided the saint were likewise a\nphilosopher. To whatever extent it be true that man was created in the\nimage of God, it is certain that in all ages and countries God has been\ncreated in the image of man, invested with all human propensities,\nappetites, and passions, and expected to demean himself on all occasions\nas men would do in like circumstances. As popularly conceived, so long\nas sensual gratification was esteemed to be the _summum bonum_, he\nwallowed in all manner of sensual lust; when some of his more fervent\nworshippers turned ascetics out of disgust with fleshly surfeit, he\nbecame ascetism personified: at every stage his great delight has been\nflattery, and his still greater, revenge; in the exercise of power he\nhas always been capricious and often wanton--ruthlessly vindictive\nagainst impugners of his honour and dignity, unspeakably barbarous to\nunbelievers in his reality. Now, as knowledge advanced, unbelief in a\nGod so much below the level of ordinarily virtuous men advanced equally,\nquickening its pace, too, as the particular branch of knowledge styled\n'physics' spread, and, spreading, exposed the utter impossibility of\nmany of the fables in which theological views had been expressed.\nWherefore, theological oracles have in every age and country been apt to\nconfound scientific inquisitiveness with unbelief, and to denounce\n_physical_ science especially as a delusion and a snare, and its\ncultivators as impostors none the less mischievous for being at the same\ntime dupes. Of course, the latter have not been slow to return the\ncompliment. Hearing the truths discovered by them stigmatised as\nfalsehoods, they naturally enough retorted the charge of falsity against\nthe divine authorities in whose name it was made. Finding war waged\nagainst them by every religion with which they were acquainted, they\nnaturally enough in turn declared war against all religion, even with\nthat form thereof which underlies every other except when sufficing to\nitself for superstructure as well as base. Natural enough this, for\n_humanum est errare_; but very humanly erroneous withal, for to include\nDeity itself in the same denial with pseudo-divine attributes is about\nas sagacious a proceeding as to refuse to recognise the sun at midday on\naccount of his not appearing in Phoebus's chariot and four.\n\nWhen religion on the defensive declares herself opposed to reason, so\nmuch the worse for religion. She is thereby virtually surrendering at\ndiscretion, since to appeal to her only other resource--revelation--is\nto beg the whole subject in dispute. Similarly, the worse and still less\nexcusable is it for science to declare herself irreconcileable with\nreligion, for she, too, is thereby slighting reason. It is only by\nforsaking the single guide in whom she professes to trust, and blindly\ngiving herself up to angry prejudice, that she can fail to discover the\nrational solidity of so much of every religion as consists of theism.\n\nFor this, as we have seen, the argument from design abundantly suffices,\nalthough the only absolute certainty thence deducible be that the\nuniverse must have an author or authors fully equal to its original\nconstruction, its subsequent development, and its continued maintenance.\nEven if it be not inconceivable, notwithstanding that the chances to the\ncontrary be many times infinity to one, that the mere restlessness of\nsome utterly unintelligent force may have fabricated all material\nstructures, and imparted to all their movements certain orderly\nsuccessions, it is still manifestly impossible for unintelligence to\nhave brought forth intelligence--for the speculative, critical, carping\nspirit of man to have been generated by that which has no speculation in\nits eyes, nor any eyes, to have speculation in; impossible, in short,\nfor the creature to be more richly endowed than its creator. Since\nnumerous embodied intelligences actually exist, they must have been\npreceded by intelligence capable of creating them and all other existing\nintelligences that have not eternally existed; and it is simply\nimpossible that creative intelligence, whose creatures owe to it\nwhatever intelligence they possess, should on any occasion have\nexhibited a want of intelligence which they are competent to detect.\n\nBut although it be thus demonstrably certain that an author of the\nuniverse exists, it does not follow that there is only one. As to this\nno proof positive, only probabilities, can be adduced; but the\nprobabilities are of an amount all but equivalent to certainty. They are\nforcibly urged by Mr. Mill. Many exactly uniform occurrences, he\nobserves, are more naturally referred to 'a single, than to a number of\nwills precisely accordant.' But the classes of uniform occurrences being\nexceedingly numerous, if there were a separate will for each class,\nthere would be equally numerous wills, and 'unless all these wills were\nin complete harmony (which would itself be the most difficult to credit\nof all cases of invariability, and would require beyond anything else\nthe ascendancy of a supreme Deity),' it would be 'impossible that the\ncourse of phenomena under their government should be invariable.' Every\nfresh appearance of resemblance extending through all nature 'affords\nfresh presumption that the whole is the work, not of many, but of the\nsame hand, and renders it vastly more probable that there should be one\nindefinitely foreseeing Intelligence and immoveable Will than that there\nshould be hundreds and thousands of such.'[50] I will not run the risk\nof weakening this reasoning by expansion. Its obvious inference that,\nthere being a God, there cannot be more than one, could not be set forth\nmore irresistibly.\n\nThat the wisdom of the Creator cannot be less than the amount thereof\nmanifested in His works is a self-evident proposition, which none will\nbe hardy enough directly to dispute. There is, however, one critic, of\ngreat ability and yet greater daring, who appears to doubt whether the\nwisdom manifested in the universe is anything to speak of. Mr. Lewes'\nfaculty of veneration is, I suspect, but imperfectly developed, since\n'the succession of phases which each (animal) embryo is forced to pass\nthrough,' is sufficient to give its action pause. 'None of these\nphases,' he remarks, 'have any adaptation to the future state of the\nanimal, but are in positive contradiction to it, or are simply\npurposeless; _many_ of them have no adaptation even to its embryonic\nstate; whereas _all_ show stamped on them the unmistakable characters of\n_ancestral_ adaptations and the progressions of organic evolution.'\n'What,' he asks, 'does this fact imply?' 'There is not,' he continues,\n'a single known example of an organism which is not developed out of\nsimpler forms. Before it can attain the complex structure which\ndistinguishes it, there must be an evolution of forms which distinguish\nthe structures of organisms lower in the series.... On the hypothesis of\na plan that pre-arranged the organic world' (by no means, however,\nnecessarily in types that could not change, but rather in types adapted\nand calculated to change), 'nothing,' he considers, 'could be more\nunworthy of a supreme intelligence than this _inability_ to construct an\norganism at once without making several _tentative_ efforts, undoing\nto-day what was so carefully done yesterday, and repeating for centuries\nthe same _tentatives_ and the same _corrections_ in the same\nsuccession.' 'Anthropomorphists,' he says, 'talk of \"The Great\nArchitect,\" emphasising the name with capitals,' but 'what should we say\nto an architect who was unable, or, being able, was obstinately\nunwilling, to erect a palace except by first using his materials in the\nshape of a hut, then pulling it down and rebuilding them as a cottage,\nthen adding storey to storey and room to room, not with any reference to\nthe ultimate purposes of the palace, but wholly with reference to the\nway in which houses were constructed in ancient times? What should we\nsay to the architect who could not form a museum out of bricks and\nmortar, but was forced to begin as if going to build a mansion, and,\nafter proceeding some way in this direction, altered his plan into a\npalace, and that again into a museum? Would there be a chorus of\napplause from the Institute of Architects, and favourable notices in the\nnewspapers of this profound wisdom?'[51]\n\nNotwithstanding the exulting tone in which these questions are put, and\nwhich seems to imply that in their proposer's opinion they are\nunanswerable, they may, I think, be very summarily disposed of. Whatever\nother comments might be made on the conduct of an architect who should\nbuild in the complex manner suggested, surely the very last thing said\nwould be that he did not know how to build in simpler wise. His having\nactually built a palace would be decisive proof of his knowing how to\nbuild a palace; and of all queer reasons for questioning his possession\nof that much architectural knowledge, about the queerest would be the\nfact of his having built, not a palace only, but a hut and cottage in\naddition. And if, adopting a still more complicated style, he should\nbegin by so constructing a hut that, if left to itself, it would draw up\nbrick and mortar from the earth, and grow into a cottage, and then go on\ngrowing and adding storey to storey till it became a palace, this surely\nwould be a proof not of less, but of infinitely more, architectural\nknowledge than if he had commenced and completed the palace with his own\nhands. Not unwarrantably, perhaps, may Mr. Lewes, reflecting that his\nown and every other human organism's genesis has consisted of at least\nthree stages, oval, foetal, and infantine, wonder why he was not\nformed all at once, 'as Eve was mythically affirmed to be taken from\nAdam's rib, and Minerva from Jupiter's head,' and why he was not brought\nforth full dressed in an indefinitely expansible suit of clothes. Not\nquite inexcusably, perhaps, might he conceive the reason to be some mere\nwhim or humour of his Maker, though there might be more gratitude in\nconjecturing that the triple process was adopted for the purpose of\nassisting biological enquirers like himself in their special researches.\nFrom so practised a logician, however, about the very last thing to have\nbeen here expected was that he should suggest creative 'ignorance and\nincompetence' as the only apparent alternative to denying a Creator\naltogether, as if incapacity for a comparatively easy process were a\nlikely reason for choosing one greatly more difficult. It might have\noccurred to Mr. Lewes that, if there were any absurdity in the choice,\nthe Being who made him and bestowed on him the faculty of perceiving the\nabsurdity, could not have failed himself likewise to perceive it and\nconsequently to avoid it.\n\nOf divine power, the measure or measurelessness is obviously identical\nwith that of divine wisdom. Both attributes must be at least\nco-extensive with the universe; both consequently illimitable. Divine\ngoodness, moreover, inasmuch as the creature's moral ideal cannot be\nsuperior to his Creator's, must be at least as vast as human\nimagination: God must be at least as good as man can conceive Him. But\nhow, by goodness so transcending, conjoined with immeasurable might, can\nthe co-existence of evil be tolerated? To this last, and perhaps\ngreatest, among the many great questions brought forward for renewed\ndiscussion in these pages, I have long had by me an attempt at a reply,\nwhich, finding myself unable either to strengthen or shorten it by\nturning it into prose, I venture to submit in its original rhythmical\nform.\n\n  A Voice came to me as I sate apart,\n    Pondering the burthen of life's mystery,\n    In dim perplexity, with troubled heart.\n  With whisper weak and faint it came to me,\n    Like feeble glimmer of the struggling moon\n    To wildered mariner on midnight sea:\n  With whisper weak at first, but strengthening soon,\n    Like the moon's beam when filmy clouds disperse,\n    And through my scattered doubts, with quiet tune,\n  Uttering in clear, apocalyptic verse,\n    Truth, which for comfort and monition sent,\n    E'en as the voice revealed, do I rehearse.\n\n  'What art thou? Whence derived? With what intent\n    Placed where perpetual hindrances exhaust\n    Thy wasted strength, in baffled effort spent?\n  Where in blind maze, with crafty windings crossed,\n    With stumbling-blocks beset, with pitfalls strewed,\n    Thou wanderest, in endless error lost;\n  Athirst beside glad rivers that elude,\n    With mocking lapse, thy tantalized pursuit,\n    And hungering where gilded husks delude\n  With bitter ashes as of Dead Sea fruit,\n    Ashes of Hope, but seed of Discontent,\n    That rears its upas growth from blighted root?\n  Around, thou hear'st Creation eloquent,\n    Hymning creative attributes, and seest\n    The starry marvels of the firmament,\n  And marvels of the nearer earth, released\n    By impulse from within, not dimly shown,\n    Nor plainlier in the greatest than the least:\n  And, through the known discovering the unknown,\n    Acknowledgest thy Maker, power supreme,\n    Might, and dominion, deeming His alone.\n  Nor His the lax dominion mayst thou deem\n    That builds up empire, and when built, neglects.\n    Lo! where, afar, sidereal orbits gleam,\n  What first impelled, impelling still, directs:\n    Urges and guides each solar chariot,\n    The mundane mass of every globe connects,\n  By its own energy cohering not,\n    E'en as dead leaves, decaying languidly,\n    Not from themselves derive the force to rot.\n\n  'All-strengthening, all-sustaining Deity,\n    Diffused throughout the infinite, abides,\n    Dwells and upholds:--then, haply, dwells in thee?\n  Yea, verily. Within thy frame resides\n    What, by its movement only mayst thou know.\n    The circling blood, thy being's ambient tides,\n  Is't thine own will that bids them ebb and flow,\n    And from their inundating flood depose\n    Organic germs, whence health and vigour grow?\n  Yet though such witness serve thee to disclose\n    In human tenement divine abode,\n    Not thine be the material creed that shows\n  The spirit's birthplace in the moulded clod;\n    Not thine the pantheist raving, that because\n    God dwelleth with thee, thou thyself art God.\n  Bethink thee--is't self-reverence that o'erawes\n    Thy prostrate soul, and from thy faltering tongue,\n    Subdued, involuntary homage draws?\n  And when by harrowing pang thine heart is wrung,\n    Is't for self-aid thy wandering eyes inquire,\n    Heavenward, at length, in fervid suppliance flung?\n  And from thy native slough of sensual mire,\n    Is't to the mark of thine own purity\n    Thy loftier aims and holier hopes aspire?\n  Harshly thy fleshly fetters bear on thee,\n    In dark and dreary prison-house confined,\n    Cramped and diseased with long captivity,\n  And hath divine Intelligence designed\n    That noisome dungeon for her own restraint--\n    By her own act to galling bonds consigned,--\n  Self-doomed, with wilful purpose, to acquaint\n    Herself with sin and sorrow, and pollute\n    Aethereal essence with corporeal taint?\n  How doth thy helpless misery confute\n    That frantic boast of vain conceit, untaugh\n    The paltriest of its plans to execute!\n\n  Hast thou the art to add, by taking thought,\n    One cubit to thy stature? and hast thou,\n    Or such as thou, Nature's whole fabric wrought?\n  Not thine such vaunt--not thine to disavow\n    The lustre of thy genuine origin.\n    To the Most Highest, as thine author, bow\n  With rapture of exulting faith, wherein\n    Devotion's cravings their desire achieve,\n    The bright ideal that they imaged, win.\n  Rejoice that thus 'tis given thee to believe,--\n    To recognise transcending majesty,\n    Worthy all praise--all honour to receive:\n  Rejoice in that high presence, gratefully\n    Offering the vows that thy full heart dilate:\n    Rejoice that thence there floweth light, whereby\n  Thy emulative quest to elevate\n    Thitherward, where unblemished holiness\n    Irradiates sovereignty, benign as great.\n\n  'But here thou pausest, scrupling to confess\n    A providence of aspect all benign.\n    Fear not that sceptic scruple to express.\n  Of truth, Almighty Goodness could assign\n    Good only to the work of His own hand,\n    Warmed into life by His own breath divine:\n  And, where unchecked Beneficence had planned\n    A home for creatures of a fragile race,\n    Evoked from nothingness at His command,\n  Nor care, nor want, nor anguish should have place,\n    Nor fraud betray, nor violence oppress,\n    Nor hate inflame, nor wallowing lust debase,\n  Nor aught be found, save what conspired to bless\n    The sentient clay, wrought surely for that end,--\n    For wherefore wrought, if not for happiness?\n\n  'Not, as some teach, for mastery to contend\n    With fate,--in doubtful conflict to engage,--\n    Struggling, in pain and peril, to ascend\n  Slowly, through this probationary stage,\n    Sore let, but tried and chastened, and thereby\n    Earning on earth a heavenly heritage.\n\n  Was there then need that prescience should try,\n    By ordeal pitiless, assured event,\n    Disclosed beforehand to prophetic eye?\n  Need was there, by austere experiment,\n    To test the frailty and the fall foreknown\n    Of man, beneath o'erwhelming burthen bent?\n  In this was tutelar prevision shown?\n    Hardly may he, in such belief confide,\n    Who sees his fellow myriads left to groan\n  In barren penance, without light or guide,\n    E'en from their birth by fostering vice controlled,\n    Doomed as they cross life's threshold--doomed untried.\n\n  'As hardly, too, may he the dogma hold\n    That fetters reason with a graduate chain\n    Of beings, linked in order manifold,\n  Where, to each link, 'tis given to sustain\n    A part subservient to the general weal,--\n    Duly to share the mutual burthen's strain:--\n  Though who from such allotment would appeal,\n    Could it be truth that wisdom's masterpiece\n    Such aid could lack, such feebleness conceal,\n  Suing its own constituents for release\n    From wrong innate, throughout its texture wove,\n    By hard necessity, not light caprice?\n  But to what purport could premonished Love\n    A system twined with mutual suffering weave,\n    When but a word all suffering would remove?\n  And wherefore yet delayeth the reprieve\n    Of Love, that doth not willingly afflict\n    Its children, neither wantonly aggrieve?\n  Can aught the gracious purpose interdict\n    Of Him, whose piercing eye, whose boundless sway,\n    No cloud can dim, no barrier restrict?\n  Say'st thou, \"By path inscrutable, and way\n    Past finding out, perchance, may mercy bend\n    To its own use, whate'er its course would stay,\n  And through the labouring world high mandate send\n    That all things work together unto good,\n    Work, though by means corrupt, to righteous end?\"\n\n  Beware how such conjectures must conclude.\n    Can means impure Omnipotence befit,\n    And clog the range of its solicitude?\n  Can finite bonds confine the Infinite?\n    Though man, by choice of ill, must needs offend,\n    Need God do ill that good may come of it?\n  Must havoc's mad typhoon perforce descend?\n    May naught else serve to fan the stagnant air?\n    Must captive flame earth's quaking surface rend,\n  Or seek escape in lava flood? and ere\n    Effete society new structure raise,\n    Must dearth or pestilence the ground prepare?\n  Thus is it that a parent's care purveys\n    His bounty, and, exacting rigorously\n    The price in tears, each boon's full cost defrays?\n  Thus, with vain thrift withholding the decree,\n    That from his treasury's exhaustless store\n    To all could grant unbought felicity?\n\n  'But haply still 'tis reasoned (and with more\n    Of reason's semblance were the plea maintained),\n    That higher yet would life's ambition soar,\n  Not for mere scheme of happiness ordained,\n    But for advance in virtue,--for the growth\n    By patient zeal and meek endurance gained:\n  That, at the table of voluptuous sloth,\n    Though banqueted on sweets without alloy,\n    Unsated were a generous nature, loth\n  To feast where unearned lusciousness would cloy,\n    Faint with the tedium of unbroken rest,\n    Sick with the sameness of unruffled joy:\n  That for more poignant pleasure, and of zest\n    Heightened and edged by healthful exercise,--\n    For scope wherein her conscious strength to test\n  In keen pursuit and venturous enterprise,\n    For dear exemplars, in whose course serene\n    Affection's tearful warmth might sympathise,\n  For these the yearning mind would languish, e'en\n    Though with all else that wish could name endued,\n    While, in her striving for self-discipline,\n  Foiled, and with fervid impulses imbued\n    Vainly, where neither aught could valour dare\n    Nor aught confront and challenge fortitude:\n  And where no outward token could declare\n    The hidden worth congenial heart would hail,\n    Hail with each kindred chord vibrating there;d\n  Since virtue wakes not but when griefs assail,\n    Or travail burthens, or temptations try,\n    Slumbering supine, till roused by adverse gale,\n  In the deep sleep of moral lethargy,\n    Joy's fullest cup, by hope or doubt unstirred,\n    Curdling the while to dull satiety.\n\n  'Thus haply some have reasoned, undeterred\n    By reasoning, with equal emphasis\n    But counter aim, as readily preferred:\n  Since Heaven's perfection striveth not, nor is\n    In peril lest it lapse to apathy,\n    Or lassitude invade its tranquil bliss.\n  And were it as they deem, and righteously\n    Were man adjudged with his brow's sweat to eat\n    Bread leavened with embittering misery,\n  E'en then affliction's measure to complete,\n    Amply might pain, and want, and death suffice,\n    And feeling's blight, and baffled love's defeat,\n  And, on the altar of self-sacrifice,\n    Hope's withered blooms by resignation laid:\n    Nor were it needed that incarnate vice,\n  In human mould, in the same image made,\n    Trampled with iron hoof his fellow man,\n    Virtue's chastised development to aid.\n  For whence was Vice derived? Ere life began,\n    For His own offspring could their Maker trace\n    Their loathsome office, and beneath his ban\n  Place them, accurst (creating to debase),\n    And doom as fuel for the flames that test\n    A favoured few, elect by partial grace?\n\n  Elect or outcast--if alike confessed\n    Of the same parent, sons--brethren who bear\n    No differing lineaments, save those imprest\n  By his prevision--in their parent's care\n    Should not all be partakers? Should not all\n    Freely, alike, his nurturing guidance share?\n  Are any worthier? 'Tis that warning's call\n    Extends to them alone--'tis that to them\n    Alone is given vigour, wherewithal\n  Temptation's fraudful violence to stem--\n    And how shall He, who needful strength denies,\n    Weakness for its predestined fall condemn?\n  How, when the creature of His wrath replies\n    With feeble wail and inarticulate moan,\n    The sighing of that contrite heart despise?\n  What man amongst thy fellows hast thou known\n    Who, if his son ask fish, will jeeringly\n    Give him a serpent, or for bread a stone?\n  If ye, being evil, at your children's cry\n    Know how to give good gifts, should not much more\n    Your heavenly Father His good things supply\n  To them who ask Him? Should He not restore\n    A cleansed heart within them, and renew\n    An upright spirit? not, what they implore\n  Reversing, and restraining, lest they do\n    The good they would,--constraining them withal\n    To do the evil they would fain eschew?\n  How wilt thou to the same original\n    Whence all just thoughts and pure desires proceed,\n    Impute corrupt imaginings, whose thrall\n  Enslaves anew the soul but newly freed\n    From their pollution? Can a hybrid growth\n    Arise spontaneous from unmingled seed?\n  Are grapes upon the bramble borne, or doth\n    The fig bear olive berries? Canst thou show\n    Twin waters, sweet and bitter, issuing both\n  From the same fountain? Neither should there flow\n    Blessing and cursing from one mouth, nor yet\n    From the same Providence both weal and woe.\n\n  'Vile as thou art, ofttimes in thee have met\n    Mercy and Truth--and Peace and Righteousness\n    Have kissed each other; and thine heart is set\n  Ofttimes to follow what is just, redress\n    Where thou hast trespassed, rendering; ofttimes, too,\n    Forgiving other's trespass: to distress\n  Thou grudgest not its sympathetic due\n    Of kindly deed, or word, or mutual tears,\n    Nor in vain wholly labourest to subdue\n  The hydra host whose foul miasm blears\n    Thy vision, and the distant gleam obscures\n    That dimly through thy prison casement peers.\n  E'en to the darkened dungeon that immures\n    Thy soul, some feeble glimmer finds its way.\n    Crushed beneath earthly durance, still endures\n  Some lingering fire below that weight of clay,\n    Some generous zeal, some honest hardihood,\n    Some faith--some charity.--And whence are they?\n  If not of Him whose quickening breath endued\n    All things with life,--and, when he looked upon\n    What He had made, beheld that all was good:\n  All good,--but chiefly man, in whom alone\n    Some likeness of Himself--some clouded light,\n    From His own countenance reflected, shone.\n  Doth not the sun outshine the satellite?\n    And shall not He who in the murkiest hour\n    Of sin's defilement, streaks thy dreary night\n  With beams that bid thee, lower yet and lower\n    Descending, hope, perchance, to rise again,--\n    Say--shall not He in holiness as power\n  Transcend the creature whom His gifts sustain!\n    And here, if sneering casuist blaspheme,\n    And to divided nature's sovereign,\n  Ascribe, in nature's opposite extreme\n    Like eminence, and nature's God aver\n    In evil, even as in good, supreme,--\n  Heed not, or ask if man's Artificer\n    With His own work, in virtue matched, can prove\n    At once more holy and unholier?\n\n  'Yet since all good is fruit of love, and love\n    Worketh no ill, how still doth ill abound?\n    Is't haply that with love a rival strove?\n\n  Mark well this parable. In chosen ground\n    Only good seed a husbandman had sown,\n    Yet when the blade sprang up, therewith he found\n  Tares that amid the stifled wheat had grown.\n    Then knew he well, how, entering unawares,\n    This, while men slept, an enemy had done.\n  And 'tis an enemy who, scattering tares\n    Amid the corn sown in Creation's field,\n    With deadly coil the growing plant ensnares.\n  And no mean enemy, nor one unsteeled\n    For bold defiance, nor reduced to cower\n    Ever in covert ambuscade concealed,\n  But at whose hest the ravening hell-hounds scour\n    A wasted world, while himself prowls to seek,\n    Like roaring lion, whom he may devour,\n  And upon whom his rancorous wrath to wreak,\n    Sniffing the tainted steam of slaughter's breath,\n    And lulled by agony's despairing shriek.\n  For it is he who hath the power of death,\n    Even the devil, by whom entereth sin\n    Into the world, and death engendereth:\n  Yea! by whom entereth whatsoe'er within\n    Warreth against the spirit,--sordid greed,\n    Pride, carnal lust, envy to lust akin,\n  And malice, and deceit, whose treacheries breed\n    Strife between brethren, and the faith o'erthrow\n    Of many, and the duped deserters lead,\n  Beneath the banner of their deadliest foe,\n    In rebel arms a Parent to defy,\n    Whom, by His gifts alone, His children know.\n\n  'Not less that Parent marks with pitying eye\n    The blinded rage that rivets its own chain:\n    Not less to His own glorious liberty\n  Seeks, from corruption's bondage, to regain\n    His erring children,--by device, or lewd,\n    Or threatening, lured, or goaded to their bane:\n  Not less to overcome evil with good\n    Labours, and shall therewith all things subdue\n    Unto Himself--but hath not yet subdued.\n\n  And wherefore? wherefore tarrieth He, while through\n    Eden, by daring foray oft defaced,\n    Marauding fiends malignant raid pursue,\n  Winging the turbid whirlwind's frantic haste,\n    Pointing the levin's arrowy effluence,\n    Over the mildewed harvest's hungry waste,\n  Breathing the fetid breath of pestilence,\n    And crying havoc to the dogs of war,\n    Let slip on unresisting innocence?\n  Why suffereth He that thus a rival mar\n    His cherished work--through devastated fields\n    Borne on triumphant in ensanguined car?--\n  Him, who with power to rescue, tamely yields\n    His helpless charge to persecuting hate,\n    Nor His own offspring from the torturer shields,\n  But sits aloof, callously obdurate,\n    While but the will is lacking to redeem,--\n    Him, how shall fitting stigma designate?\n\n  'But 'tis not thus thy calmer doubts esteem\n    The loving-kindness that with open hand\n    Dispenses bounty in perennial stream.\n  Oft hast thou proved, while in a foreign land\n    A sojourner, as all thy fathers were,\n    Thou pacest painfully the barren sand,\n  How o'er thy path watches a Comforter,\n    And scatters manna daily for thy food,\n    And bids the smitten rocks that barrier\n  The arid track, well out with gurgling flood,\n    And oft to shade of green oasis leads,\n    And, from pursuer thirsting for thy blood,\n  Such scanty shelter as is thine provides:\n    And though full oft that shelter fails, and though\n    Its torn defence demoniac glee derides,\n  Yet not for this the cheerful faith forego,\n    That memory of uncounted benefits\n    And conscious instinct's still, small tones bestow.\n  Charge not thy God with aught that unbefits\n    Tenderest compassion, nor believe that He\n    With hardened apathetic scorn commits\n  A favoured people throughout life to be\n    Subject to bondage. Doubt not of His will\n    To rescue from that galling tyranny.\n  Yet, if in His despite creation still\n    In thraldom groan and travail--what remains?\n    What but that strength is wanting to fulfil\n  His scheme of mercy? What but that He reigns,\n    Not as sole wielder of omnipotence,\n    But, o'er a world unconquered yet, maintains\n  Encounter with opposing influence,\n    Which He shall surely quell, but which can stay,\n    Awhile unquelled, His mightier providence.\n\n  'And doth this sadden only, or dismay?\n    Grieves it that He, whose follower thou art,\n    Rules not supreme with unresisted sway?\n  Or that, the progress of His grace to thwart,\n    Satanic might the host of hell arrays?\n    And doth it not a thrill of joy impart\n  That not alone need barren prayer and praise\n    Thine homage be,--thy choicest offering\n    The formal dues prescribed obedience pays?\n  Henceforth with firmer step approach thy King.\n    Some puny succour, thou, in thy degree,\n    Some feeble aid, thou, even thou, mayst bring!\n  In the fell conflict raging ceaselessly\n    Around, thou, too, mayst join--thou, too, engage\n    In that dread feud, twin with eternity,\n  Which faithful angels and archangels wage\n    Against the powers of darkness, to extend,\n    O'er realms retained in demon vassalage,\n  Their sovereign's pure dominion,--and to blend\n    All worlds beneath one righteous governance,\n    Into one kingdom which shall have no end.\n\n  'Wouldst thou, if haply so thou mayst, advance\n    That blessed consummation? Wouldst thou speed\n    The lingering hour of Earth's deliverance?\n  Arise--the naked clothe, the hungry feed,\n    The sick and wounded tend,--soothe the distressed.\n    If thy weak arm cannot protect, yet plead\n  With bold rebuke the cause of the oppressed,\n    Kindling hot shame in Mammon's votaries,\n    Abashed, at least, in lucre's grovelling quest;\n  And, in the toil-worn serf, a glad surprise\n    Awakening--when, from brute despondency,\n    Taught to look up to heaven with dazzled eyes.--\n  Thus mayst thou do God service,--thus apply\n    Thyself, within thy limit, to abate\n    What wickedness thou seest, or misery:\n  Thus, in a Sacred Band, associate\n    New levies, from the adverse ranks of Sin\n    Converted,--against Sin confederate.\n  Or--if by outward act to serve, or win\n    Joint followers to the standard of thy Lord,\n    Thy lot forbid,--turn, then, thy thought within:\n  Be each recess of thine own breast explored:\n    There, o'er thy passions be thy victories won:\n    There, be the altar of thy faith restored,\n  And thou, a living sacrifice, thereon\n    Present thyself.--This ever mayst thou do,\n    Nor, doing this, wilt aught have left undone.'\n\n  Here ceased the Voice, commissioned to renew\n    Truth, which, of old, when Bactrian sage began\n    Nature's dim maze to thread with slenderest clue,\n  Its doubtful scope and dark design to scan,\n    With inward whisper, hopeful witness bare,\n    And justified the ways of God to man.\n  And suddenly its warning ceased, but ere\n    It ceased, the scales had fallen from my eyes,\n    And I beheld, and shall I not declare\n  What my uncurtained vision testifies?\n    Shall coward lips the word of life suppress?\n    The oracle vouchsafed from Heaven disguise?\n  Nay, as one crying in the wilderness,\n    Where none else hearken, to the vacant air\n    And stolid mountains utters his distress,\n  E'en so will I too cry aloud, 'Prepare\n    Before Him the Lord's way. Make His path straight,'\n    Nor heed though none regard me, nor forbear\n  Though all revile, but patiently await\n    Till, like light breath that panting meads exhale,\n    And scornful zephyrs lightly dissipate,\n  But which, full surely, down the echoing vale,\n    Shall roll with sounding current, swift and loud,\n    My slighted message likewise shall prevail,\n  Entering the heart of many a mourner, bowed\n    Beneath despair, and with inspiring voice\n    Calling to hope to cleave her midnight cloud,\n  And bidding grief, in hope's new dawn, rejoice.\n\nThis is a creed which long since came to me after earnest inward\ncommunings, and which, though subsequent reflection has in some few\nparticulars modified it, I still in substance hold, clinging to it with\na grateful consciousness of ever-multiplying obligations. For in it the\nsoul has free scope for its loftiest aspirations and its widest and\ndeepest sympathies, strongest incentives to zeal, surest guidance for\nactivity, solace in every distress, support under every difficulty,\nadded cause for exultation in every success, renewed resolution in every\ndefeat. Still, it is here offered, not as ascertained truth, but merely\nas a sample of those guesses at truth by which alone ordinary mortals\nneed hope to promote the common cause of humanity in any of its higher\nbearings. Such guesses, however, when harmonising with all the\nconditions of their subject-matter, may fairly claim to be provisionally\nregarded as truths--nay, to be adopted as working hypotheses until\nsuperseded by new hypotheses capable of doing the same work better; in\nwhich supercession none ought to rejoice, nor, if sincere truth-seekers,\nwill rejoice, more cordially than the propounders of the discredited\ndoctrines. It is in this spirit and with these reservations that the\narticles of faith above recited are submitted for consideration. How\nmuch soever they may fall short of the truth, they are, I feel, in the\nabsence of any nearer approach to the truth, capable of rendering\nexcellent service. However faintly and hazily the outlines of Deity be\nshown in them, the Deity whom they so imperfectly delineate is yet one\nto whom may justly be ascribed glory in the highest, one worthy of all\ntrust, love, and adoration--of an adoration, too, inclusive not more of\npraise than prayer.\n\nIf the divine claim to the last-named tribute be disputed, it had better\nbe by arguments other than those on which certain writers, with Mr.\nGalton for their leader and Professor Tyndall for their backer, have\nbeen recently expending much misapplied ingenuity. If the efficacy of\nprayer be, as the foremost of these declares it to be, 'a perfectly\nappropriate and legitimate subject of scientific enquiry,' the enquiry\nought at least to be conducted according to scientific rules. On this\npoint Mr. Galton himself lays much stress, intimating that whereas an\nunscientific reasoner may be expected to be 'guided by a confused\nrecollection of crude experience, a scientific reasoner will scrutinise\neach separate experience before he admits it as evidence, and will\ncompare all the cases he has selected on a methodical system.'\nNevertheless, a brief examination of the experiences on which he and his\nprincipal associate rely, may suggest some doubt as to which of the two\nspecified classes of reasoners it is that they themselves belong.\n\nThe facts or fancies cited by Mr. Galton in proof that praying is of no\nuse are the following: 1. 'Sick people who pray or are prayed for do not\non the average recover more rapidly than others.' 2. Although 'the\npublic prayer for the sovereign of every state, Protestant or\nCatholic, is and has been in the spirit of our own--\"Grant her in health\nlong to live\"--sovereigns are literally the shortest-lived of all\npersons who have the advantage of affluence.' 3. The 'clergy are a far\nmore prayerful class' than either lawyers or medical men, it being\n'their profession to pray,' and 'their practice that of offering morning\nand evening family prayers in addition to their private devotions,' yet\n'we do not find that the clergy are in any way more long-lived in\nconsequence;' rather, there is room for believing their class to be the\n'shortest-lived of the three.' Nay, even missionaries, eminently\nprayerful as they are themselves, and prayed for as they are with\nespecial earnestness by others, 'are not supernaturally endowed with\nhealth,' and 'do not live longer than other people.' 4. 'The proportion\nof deaths at the time of birth is identical among the children of the\npraying and the non-praying classes.' 5. Though 'we pray in our Liturgy\nthat \"the nobility may be endowed with grace, wisdom, and\nunderstanding,\"' our 'nobility are peculiarly subject to insanity;' as\nare likewise, indeed, 'very religious people of all denominations,'\n'religious madness being very common indeed.' 6. So far from 'religious\ninfluences' appearing to have 'clustered in any remarkable degree round\nthe youth of those who, whether by their talents or their social\nposition, have left a mark upon English history,' 'remarkable devotional\ntendencies' have been conspicuous chiefly by their absence from 'the\nlives either of our Lord Chancellors or of the leaders of our great\npolitical parties;' while, out of our twenty-three extant dukes, four at\nleast, if not five, are descended from mistresses of Charles II., not a\nsingle one of them, on the other hand, being known to Mr. Galton to be\nof 'eminently prayerful qualities.' 7. In respect of those\n'institutions, societies, commercial adventures, political meetings and\ncombinations of all sorts' with which England so much abounds, and of\nwhich 'some are exclusively clerical, some lay, and others mixed,' Mr.\nGalton 'for his own part never heard a favourable opinion of the value\nof the preponderating clerical element in their business committees.'\n'The procedure of Convocation which, like all exclusively clerical\nmeetings, is opened with prayer, has not inspired the outer world with\nmuch respect.' Nay, 'it is a common week-day opinion of the world that\npraying people are not practical.' 8. In those numerous instances in\nwhich an enterprise is executed by the agency of the profane on behalf\nnot of the profane themselves but of pious clients, 'the enterprises are\nnot observed to prosper beyond the average.' Underwriters recognise no\ndifference in the risks run by missionary ships and by ordinary traders,\nnor do life insurance companies, before they accept a life, introduce\ninto their 'confidential enquiries into the antecedents of the\napplicant' any 'such question as \"Does he habitually use family prayers\nand private devotions?\"' Neither are the funds of devout shareholders\nand depositors at all safer than those of the profane when entrusted to\nthe custody of untrustworthy directors, not even though the day's work\nof the undertaking commence, as that of the disastrous Royal British\nBank used to do, with solemn prayer.[52]\n\nTwo or three minutes' attention to the grounds for, and the\ncircumstances connected with, these statements, may assist us in\nappreciating Mr. Galton's notion of the difference between confusedly\nrecollected experiences and experiences properly scrutinised and\nmethodically selected.\n\nFor the statement first on the list, some negative evidence is\nconsidered to be afforded by the absence of any 'single instance in\nwhich papers read before Statistical Societies have recognised the\nagency of prayer either in disease or in anything else.' The chief\nauthority for it, however, is the eloquent silence of medical men 'who,\nhad prayers for the sick any notable effect, would be sure to have\nobserved it,' seeing that they are 'always on the watch for such\nthings.' But are they really, in every case of recovery from illness\nthat comes under their notice, so particular and so successful in their\nenquiries whether any, and, if so, how much, prayer has been offered on\nbehalf of the patient, as to be qualified to judge whether prayer has\nhad anything to do with the cure? If not, although they may be showing\ntheir discretion by not speaking on the point, the 'eloquence of their\nsilence' must not be too hastily interpreted. For doctors, of all men,\nshould be the last to deny, as an abstract proposition, the efficacy of\nprayer in disease, knowing, as they do, how great is the curative\ninfluence of prayer when addressed to themselves. How, they may\nnaturally ask, is it to be expected that sickness should be cured unless\nproperly treated? and how can it be properly treated without a doctor?\nand how can a doctor be expected to attend unless he be asked? Upon\nwhich very natural queries others naturally follow. What would be the\ngood of the doctor's coming unless he prescribed judiciously? and will\nhe not more certainly prescribe judiciously if his judgment be guided by\nspecial interposition of divine grace? and if prayer to himself has\nplainly been one condition of his coming, why may not prayer to God\nhave been one condition of his judgment having been rightly guided? Will\nit be pretended that God's proceedings are abjectly submissive to\ninexorable laws from which those of the doctor are exempt, and that\nthough the latter would certainly not have attended unless he had been\nasked, the grace of God, if given at all, must have been given equally\nwhether asked for or not?\n\nStatements 2 and 3 are founded on a memoir by Dr. Guy, purporting to\nshow the 'Mean Age attained by males of various classes who had survived\ntheir 30th year from 1758 to 1843,' and whose deaths were not caused by\nviolence or accident. According to this table, the average age of 97\nmembers of royal houses was only 64.04, while that of 1,179 members of\nthe English aristocracy was 67.31, and that of 1,632 gentlemen commoners\n70.22; the proportion between the total number of royal, and that of\nnoble and gentle, personages who died within the period specified, being\napparently supposed to be as 97 to 2811, or as 1 to about 29. Except\nupon this supposition, Mr. Galton could not with any consistency have\nappealed to these figures, for he had previously announced his intention\nto be 'guided solely by broad averages and not to deal with isolated\ninstances.' He seems, however, to forget this judicious rule when he\ncomes to treat of the clergy, of whom 945 are compared in the table with\n294 lawyers and 244 medical men. Here, he says, 'the clergy as a whole\nshow a life value of 69.49 against 68.14 for lawyers, and 67.31 for\nmedical men;' but then, he adds 'this difference is reversed' when the\ncomparison is made between members of the three classes sufficiently\ndistinguished to have had their lives recorded in Chalmers'\nBiographical Dictionary or the Annual Register, the value of life among\nclergy, lawyers, and medical men then appearing as 66.42, 66.51 and\n67.34 respectively. Whether, of the distinguished professional men\nconcerned in this second comparison, the parsons were distinguished for\ntheir prayerfulness and the lawyers and doctors for their\nprayerlessness, Mr. Galton omits to state; and still more serious\nomissions on his part are those of not mentioning in what part of our\nLiturgy we are accustomed to pray that it may be granted to the Queen,\nnot simply long to live, but also to live longer than other people;\nlikewise in which of 'the numerous published collections of family\nprayers' that have undergone his scrutiny, is to be found a petition\nthat parsons may live longer than lawyers or doctors; and, yet again,\nsince an _average_, falling short of threescore years and ten by little\nmore than three and a half, is so contemptuously rejected by him, what\nis the precise number of years that would be accepted by him as a\nliberal compliance with prayer for long life?\n\nWhile deducing his argument from clergymen, Mr. Galton makes repeated\nand particular reference to the clerical _sub-genus_, missionaries,\ntreating it as the more remarkable that these should not enjoy\ncomparative immunity from disease, because, as he suggests, it would\nhave been so easy for God to have made them a favoured class in respect\nof health: to wit, by the notable expedient of dissuading them from\nexposing themselves to any of the risks peculiarly attendant on\nmissionary enterprise. 'Tropical fever, for example, is due to many\nsubtle causes which are partly under man's control. A single hour's\nexposure to sun, or wet, or fatigue, or mental agitation will determine\nan attack.' What more simple than for God so to 'act on the minds of\nthe missionaries as to disincline them to take those courses which might\nresult in mischance, such as the forced march, the wetting, the\nabstinence from food, or the night exposure?' What more simple, either,\nit may be added, than for God to save prayerful soldiers from ever being\nkilled in battle by merely putting it into their minds to desert\nwhenever they are ordered upon active service?\n\nThat 'the distribution of still-births is wholly unaffected by piety'\nMr. Galton has satisfied himself by finding, 'on examination of a\nparticular period, that the proportion of such births published in the\n'Record' newspaper and in the 'Times' bore an identical relation to the\ntotal number of deaths.' He had previously, we must suppose, satisfied\nhimself that advertisers in the 'Times' never say their prayers.\n\nFor the asserted commonness of religious madness Mr. Galton cites no\nevidence whatever, and, to judge from the sympathies and antipathies of\nwhich one of his avowed opinions may be supposed to be the subject and\nthe object, speaks probably on this point solely from hearsay. Very\npossibly, however, his assurance of the extraordinary prevalence of\ninsanity among British noblemen may be based on personal observation,\nas, of course, is that regarding the prayerlessness of his own ducal\nacquaintances. Birds of a feather, proverbially, flock together, and the\nsame touch of irreligion may quite possibly suffice to make certain\ndukes and certain commoners kin.\n\nAgainst the inefficiency, however notorious, of the clerical element in\nbusiness committees, ought in fairness to be set the equally notorious\nefficiency of Jesuits in whatever they undertake, the signal statecraft\ndisplayed by the Wolseys, the Richelieus, and the Ximenes's of the days\nin which cardinals and archbishops were permitted to take a leading\npart in executive politics, and the very respectable figure still\npresented by the lords spiritual, beside the lords temporal of the\nBritish House of Peers. As for 'the common week-day opinion that praying\npeople are not practical,' those by whom it is entertained, of course,\nmentally except praying Quakers.\n\nThe fact that insurance offices do not attempt to distinguish between\nthe prayerful and the prayerless, but, treating both classes as liable\nto the same risks, exact from both the same premiums, proves, I submit,\nnothing against the efficacy of prayer, not even that the managers of\ninsurance offices do not believe in it. The statement that prayerful and\nprayerless, when placing their money in the same dishonest keeping, or\nengaging in the same bad speculations, suffer losses, bearing exactly\nthe same proportion to their respective ventures, although most probably\nquite true, is also one which Mr. Galton has neglected to verify by the\napplication to it of any test, scientific or other. Finally, if the\ndisasters of the Royal British Bank are to be ascribed to its custom of\nopening business with prayer, not only ought the cackle of Convocation\nto be attributed to a similar cause, but also all the legislative\nbotchery of the House of Commons, and the abolition of prayer before\ndebate should be treated as the most urgently needed of those further\nparliamentary reforms with which the fertile brains of certain eminent\nstatesmen are suspected to be teeming.\n\nThus much by way of intimation that there would be no excessive temerity\nin encountering Mr. Galton even on the ground of his own choosing, were\nthat ground really worth contending for. But baseless and exorbitant as\nall Mr. Galton's postulates are, there is not one of them to which he\nmight not be made heartily welcome, for any effect its surrender could\nhave upon the real issue, the true nature whereof both Mr. Galton and\nhis principal coadjutor have, with marvellous sleight of eye, contrived\ncompletely to overlook. Such Pharisees in science, such sticklers for\nrigorously scientific method, might have been expected to begin by\nauthenticating the materials they proposed to operate upon, and, when\nprofessing to experiment upon pure metal, at least to see that it was\nnot mere dross they were casting into the crucible. Plainly, however,\nthey despise any such nice distinctions. The most earnest prayer and the\nemptiest ceremonial prate are both alike to them. What sort of a process\nthey imagine prayer to be may be at once perceived from the sort of\ntrials to which they desire to subject it.\n\n'After much thought and examination,' the coadjutor aforesaid--a bashful\nTeucer, over whom Professor Tyndall has, like a second Ajax Telamon,\nextended, with chivalrous haste, the shelter of his shield--does 'not\nhesitate to propose that one single ward or hospital under the care of\nfirst-rate physicians or surgeons, containing a number of patients\nafflicted with those diseases which have been best studied, and of which\nthe mortality rates are best known, should be, during a period of not\nless than three to five years, made the object of special prayer by the\nwhole body of the faithful, and that, at the end of that time, the\nmortality rates should be compared with the past rates, and also with\nthose of other leading hospitals similarly well managed during the same\nperiod.'[53] In suggesting this experiment, termed by himself\n'exhaustive and complete,' its propounder imagines himself to be\noffering to the faithful 'an occasion of demonstrating to the faithless\nan imperishable record of the real power of prayer.' If, however, he\nwere himself petitioning for the reprieve of a condemned criminal, he\nwould scarcely expect to succeed, even with so tender-hearted a minister\nas Mr. Bruce, if he were to let out in the course of his supplications,\nthat he did not care whether he succeeded or not, and was asking for the\nreprieve solely for the purpose of ascertaining whether the head of the\nHome Office is really invested with the prerogative of mercy. Yet no\nsuspicion crosses his mind that the Searcher of Hearts may possibly be\ndispleased with prayers addressed to Him by the lips of those who were,\nall the while, saying in their hearts that they did not want their\nprayers to be granted, but only wanted to satisfy their curiosity to\nknow whether they would be granted or not. Equally remarkable is the\ntrustfulness of Mr. Galton, in opining that 'it would be perfectly\npracticable to select out of the patients at different hospitals under\ntreatment for fractures, or amputations, or other common maladies, whose\ncourse is so well understood as to admit of accurate tables being\nconstructed for their duration and result, two considerable groups, the\none consisting of markedly religious and piously befriended individuals,\nthe other of those who were remarkably cold-hearted and neglected; and\nthat, then, an honest comparison of their respective periods of\ntreatment, and the result, would manifest a distinct proof of the\nefficacy of prayer, if it existed to even a minute fraction of the\namount that religious teachers exhort us to believe.' Evidently, he\nimagines that it would be sufficient for the hospital authorities to\nadvertise--not of course, in the 'Times,' but in the 'Record'--and\nthat, thereupon, whoever, having entered into his closet and shut the\ndoor, had, on behalf of any of the patients experimented upon, prayed to\nthe Father who seeth in secret, would at once come forth and proclaim\nopenly how he had been engaged. Not by 'arguments' of no greater\n'cogency' than that of any based upon results thus obtainable, need\neither of the two experimentalists expect to persuade praying people\nthat prayer is, 'in the natural course of events,' doomed to become\n'obsolete, just as the Waters of Jealousy and the Urim and Thummin of\nthe Mosaic Law did in the times of the later Jewish Kings.' Not quite so\neasily will they cause it to be 'abandoned to the domain of recognised\nsuperstition,' just as belief in witches and in the Sovereign's touch as\na cure for scrofula, and 'many other items of ancient faith have already\nsuccessively been.' Both of them have, it seems, yet to learn that the\nonly prayer which is believed by people of some little enlightenment to\nbe of any avail, is the 'fervent, effectual prayer of a righteous man,'\nprayer that cometh from 'a pure heart fervently,' prayer that is made\n'with the spirit and with the understanding also.' Prayer of this sort\nis not to be discredited by any abundance of statistical testimony to\nthe futility of cold lip-worship, or by any number of fresh examples of\nthe generally recognised fact that the children of this world are wiser\nin their generation than the children of light. The recovery from the\nvery jaws of death of King Hezekiah, of Louis XV. of France, while as\nyet undetected and _bien-aime_, and of the present Prince of Wales, may,\nnone the less probably, have been in part due to the prayers offered up\nfor the first by himself, for the second, according to President Henault\nand Mr. Carlyle, by all Paris, and, for the third, by the whole British\nempire, because _lessons_ appointed to be regularly said or _sung_ in\nchurches for the prolongation of the Sovereign's life, and said and sung\nby the congregations to whom they are set, with equal regularity,\nwhether the Sovereign be well or ill, detested or beloved, are to all\nappearance disregarded. Modern believers in prayer are well aware that,\nalthough they ask, they may not receive if they ask amiss, and would\naccept this as fully adequate explanation of the disappointment of\nanyone, who had the face to pray that he might grow as rich as the late\nMr. Brassey, or be created a duke, or appointed Lord Chancellor, or\nsupplant Mr. Gladstone in the premiership, or Mr. D'Israeli in the\nleadership of Her Majesty's Opposition. Moreover, the spirit, duly\nseasoned with understanding, in which alone true prayer can be made, is\none, not of presumptuous dictation to a Heavenly Father, but of sincere\nand grateful recognition that 'He knoweth better than ourselves what is\nfor our good.' Far from praying for selfish aggrandisement, we cannot,\nif we pray aright, pray that, whether from ourselves or others, the cup\nof affliction may pass away, without adding, 'Nevertheless, not as I\nwill, but as Thou wilt.' The only gifts that can with propriety be\nprayed for unconditionally are gifts spiritual--cleansing of the\nthoughts of the heart, strength to resist temptation, strength to endure\ntrials, strength to perform our appointed work; and whoever may think\nfit to make these the subjects of statistical inquiry, may depend upon\nbeing assured by everyone experimentally qualified to reply, that they\nare never asked for faithfully without being obtained effectually;\ntogether with large measure, if not of the cheerfulness, at least of the\npatience, of hope.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[50] 'Auguste Comte and Positivism,' pp. 25-8.\n\n[51] 'Fortnightly Review' for June 1868, 'Mr. Darwin's Hypotheses.'\n\n[52] 'Statistical Enquiries into the Efficacy of Prayer,' by Francis\nGalton, in Fornightly Review,' for August 1872.\n\n[53] 'Contemporary Review,' July 1872. 'The Prayer for the Sick. Hints\ntowards a serious attempt to estimate its value.' Communicated by Prof.\nTyndall.\n\n\n\n\n_EPILOGUE._\n\n\n  If with rash step, or with presumptuous word\n  I have transgressed, or with unshrinking eye\n  Have sought to pierce the awful mystery\n  That veils thy Godhead, yet forgive me, Lord!\n  Thou knowest that I sought not to draw nigh\n  Thy Throne, save that my witness might record\n  More truly of Thine attributes, whereby\n  On Earth, e'en as in Heaven, might be adored\n  The fulness of Thy glory. Not in wrath\n  His trespass wilt Thou judge, whom, licence, bred\n  Of zeal, though blinded, yet devout, betrays,\n  Nor scorn the unconscious wanderer from Thy path,\n  Nor leave me hopeless, if indeed misled\n  By thirst for truth, more deep in error's maze.\n\n\n\n\n  LONDON: PRINTED BY\n  SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE\n  AND PARLIAMENT STREET\n\n\n\n\n_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._\n\n\nON LABOUR:\n\nITS WRONGFUL CLAIMS AND RIGHTFUL DUES;\n\nITS ACTUAL PRESENT AND POSSIBLE FUTURE.\n\nSECOND EDITION.\n\n8vo. cloth, price 14_s._\n\n'This is a book which all true economists should welcome.'\n\n  ECONOMIST..\n\n\n\n'It may be doubted whether any considerable economic work of equal merit\nhas appeared since the first publication of Mr. Mill's \"Political\nEconomy.\"'\n\n  ATHENAEUM.\n\n\nMACMILLAN & CO., London.","title":"Old-Fashioned Ethics and Common-Sense Metaphysics: With Some of Their Applications","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":90284}