Let us then first ask, What is "Nothing"? Is it a mere word, which presents no meaning as corresponding to any objective reality, or has the word a meaning notwithstanding its being an inconceivable one? Or, otherwise phrased, is Nothing possible or impossible? Now, although in ordinary conversation it is generally taken for granted that Nothing is possible, there is certainly no more ground for this supposition than there is for its converse—viz., that Nothing is merely a word which signifies the negation of possibility. For analysis will show that the choice between these two counter-suppositions can only be made in the presence of knowledge which is necessarily absent—the knowledge whether the universe of Existence is finite or infinite. If the universe as a whole is finite, the word Nothing would stand as a symbol to denote an unthinkable blank of which a finite universe is the content. And forasmuch as Something and Nothing would then become actual, as distinguished from nominal correlatives, we could have no guarantee that, in an absolute or transcendental sense, it may not be possible, although it is inconceivable, for Something to become Nothing or Nothing Something. Hence, if Existence is finite, No-existence becomes possible; and the doctrine of the indestructibility of Existence becomes, for aught that we can tell, of a merely relative signification. But, on the other hand, if Existence is infinite, No-existence becomes impossible; and the doctrine of the indestructibility of Existence becomes, in a logical sense, of an absolute signification. For it is manifest that if the universe of Existence is without end in space and time, the possibility of No-existence is of necessity excluded, and the word "Nothing" thus becomes a mere negation of possibility.[47]

Thus, if it be conceded that the universe as a whole is infinite both in space and time, the concession amounts to an abolition of the final mystery of things. For all that we mean by a mystery is something that requires an explanation, and the whole of the final mystery of things is therefore embodied in the question, "Why is there Existence?—Why is there not Nothing?" But if the universe of Existence be conceded infinite, this question is sufficiently met by the answer, "Because Existence is, and Nothing is not." If it is retorted, But this is no real answer; I reply, It is as real as the question. For to ask, Why is there Existence? is, upon the supposition which has been conceded, equivalent to asking, Why is the possible possible? And if such questions cannot be answered, it is scarcely right to say that on this account they embody a mystery; because the questions are really not rational questions, and therefore the fact of their not admitting of any rational answer cannot be held to show that the questions embody any rational mystery. That there is a rational mystery, in the sense of there being something which can never be explained, I do not dispute; all I assert is, that this mystery is inexplicable, only because there is nothing to explain; the mystery being ultimate, to ask for an explanation of that which, being ultimate, requires no explanation, is irrational. Or, to state the case in another way, if it is asked, Why is there not Nothing? it is a sufficient answer, on supposition of the universe being infinite, to say, Because Nothing is nothing; it is merely a word which presents no meaning, and which, so far as anything can be conceived to the contrary, never can present any meaning.

The above discussion has proceeded on the supposition of Existence being infinite; but practically the same result would follow on the counter-supposition of Existence being finite. For although in this case, as we have seen, Non-entity would still be included within the range of possibility, it would still be no more conceivable as such than is Entity; and hence the question, Why is there not Nothing? would still be irrational, seeing that, even if the possibility which the question supposes were realised, it would in no wise tend to explain the mystery of Something. And even if it could, the final mystery would not be thus excluded; it would merely be transferred from the mystery of Existence to the mystery of Non-existence. Thus under every conceivable supposition we arrive at the same termination—viz., that in the last resort there must be a final mystery, which, as forming the basis of all possible explanations, cannot itself receive any explanation, and which therefore is really not, in any proper sense of the term, a mystery at all. It is merely a fact which itself requires no explanation, because it is a fact than which none can be more ultimate. So that even if we suppose this ultimate fact to be an Intelligent Being, it is clearly impossible that he should be able to explain his own existence, since the possibility of any such explanation would imply that his existence could not be ultimate. In the sense, therefore, of not admitting of any explanation, his existence would require to be a mystery to himself, rendering it impossible for him to state anything further with regard to it than this—"I am that I am."

I do not doubt that this way of looking at the subject will be deemed unsatisfactory at first sight, because it seems to be, as it were, a merely logical way of cheating our intelligence out of an intuitively felt justification for its own curiosity in this matter. But the fault really lies in this intuitive feeling of justification not being itself justifiable. For this particular question, it will be observed, differs from all other possible questions with which the mind has to deal. All other questions being questions concerning manifestations of existence presupposed as existing, it is perfectly legitimate to seek for an explanation of one series of manifestations in another—i.e., to refer a less known group to a group better known. But the case is manifestly quite otherwise when, having merged one group of manifestations into another group, and this into another for an indefinite number of stages, we suddenly make a leap to the last possible stage and ask, "Into what group are we to merge the basis of all our previous groups, and of all groups which can possibly be formed in the future? How are we to classify that which contains all possible classes? Where are we to look for an explanation of Existence?" When thus clearly stated, the question, is, as I have said, manifestly irrational; but the point with which I am now concerned is this—When in plain reason the question is seen to be irrational, why in intuitive sentiment should it not be felt to be so? The answer, I think, is, that the interrogative faculty being usually occupied with questions which admit of rational answers, we acquire a sort of intellectual habit of presupposing every wherefore to have a therefore, and thus, when eventually we arrive at the last of all possible wherefores, which itself supplies the basis of all possible therefores, we fail at first to recognise the exceptional character of our position. We fail at first to perceive that, from the very nature of this particular case, our wherefore is deprived of the rational meaning which it had in all the previous cases, where the possibility of a corresponding therefore was presupposed. And failing fully to perceive this truth, our organised habit of expecting an answer to our question asserts itself, and we experience the same sense of intellectual unrest in the presence of this wholly meaningless and absurd question, as we experience in the presence of questions significant and rational.

THE END.

* * * * *

Notes

[1] The above was written before Mr. Mill's essay on Theism was published. Lest, therefore, my refutation may be deemed too curt, I supplement it with Mr. Mill's remarks upon the same subject. "It may still be maintained that the feelings of morality make the existence of God eminently desirable. No doubt they do, and that is the great reason why we find that good men and women cling to the belief, and are pained by its being questioned. But, surely, it is not legitimate to assume that, in the order of the universe, whatever is desirable is true. Optimism, even when a God is already believed in, is a thorny doctrine to maintain, and had to be taken by Leibnitz in the limited sense, that the universe being made by a good being, is the best universe possible, not the best absolutely: that the Divine power, in short, was not equal to making it more free from imperfections than it is. But optimism, prior to belief in a God, and as the ground of that belief, seems one of the oddest of all speculative delusions. Nothing, however, I believe, contributes more to keep up the belief in the general mind of humanity than the feeling of its desirableness, which, when clothed, as it very often is, in the form of an argument, is a naive expression of the tendency of the human mind to believe whatever is agreeable to it. Positive value the argument of course has none." For Mill's remarks on the version of the argument dealt with in Sec. 5, see his "Three Essays," p. 204.

[2] The words "or not conceivable," are here used in the sense of "not relatively conceivable," as explained in Chap. vi.

[3] For the full discussion from which the above is an extract, see System of Logic, vol. i. pp. 409-426 (8th ed.). But, substituting "psychical" for "volitional," see also, for some mitigation of the severity of the above statement, the closing paragraphs of my supplementary essay on "Cosmic Theism."

[4] Essay on Understanding—Existence of God.

[5] Locke, loc. cit.

[6] See Appendix A.

[7] Viz., the constant association within experience of mind with certain highly peculiar material forms; the constant proportion which is found to subsist between the quantity of cerebral matter and the degree of intellectual capacity—a proportion which may be clearly traced throughout the ascending series of vertebrated animals, and which is very generally manifested in individuals of the human species; the effects of cerebral anaemia, anaesthetics, stimulants, narcotic poisons, and lesions of cerebral substance. There can, in short, be no question that the whole series of observable facts bearing upon the subject are precisely such as they ought to be upon supposition of the materialistic theory being true; while, contrariwise, there is a total absence of any known facts tending to negative that theory. At the same time it must be carefully noted, that the observed facts (and any additional number of the like kind) do not logically warrant us in concluding that mental states are necessarily dependent upon material changes. Nevertheless, it must also be noted, that, in the absence of positive proof of causation, it is certainly in accordance with scientific procedure, to yield our provisional assent to an hypothesis which undoubtedly connects a large order of constant accompaniments, rather than to an hypothesis which is confessedly framed to meet but a single one of the facts.

Professor Clifford, in a lecture on "Body and Mind" which he delivered at St. George's Hall, and afterwards published in the Fortnightly Review, argues against the existence of God on the ground that, as Mind is always associated with Matter within experience, there arises a presumption against Mind existing anywhere without being thus associated, so that unless we can trace in the disposition of the heavenly bodies some resemblance to the conformation of cerebral structure, we are to conclude that there is a considerable balance of probability in favour of Atheism. Now, as this argument—if we rid it of the grotesque allusion to the heavenly bodies—is one that is frequently met with, it seems desirable in this place briefly to analyse it. First of all, then, the validity of the argument depends upon the probability there is that the constant associated of Mind with Matter within experience is due to a causal connection; for if the association in question is merely an association and nothing more, the origin of known mind is as far from being explained as it would be were Mind never known as associated with Matter. But, in the next place, supposing the constant association in question to be due to a causal connection, it by no means follows that because Mind is due to Matter within experience, therefore Mind cannot exist in any other mode beyond experience.

Doubtless, from analogy, there is a presumption against the hypothesis that the same entity should exist in more than one mode at the same time; but clearly in this case we are quite unable to estimate the value of this presumption. Consequently, even assuming a causal connection between Matter and Human Mind, if there is any, the slightest, indications supplied by any other facts of experience pointing to the existence of a Divine Mind, such indications should be allowed as much argumentative weight as they would have had in the absence of the presumption we are considering. Hence Professor Clifford's conclusion cannot be regarded as valid until all the other arguments in favour of Theism have been separately refuted. Doubtless Professor Clifford will be the first to recognise the cogency of this criticism—if indeed it has not already occurred to him; for as I know that he is much too clear a thinker not to perceive the validity of these considerations, I am willing to believe that the substance of them was omitted from his essay merely for the sake of brevity; but, for the sake of less thoughtful persons, I have deemed it desirable to state thus clearly that the problem of Theism cannot be solved on grounds of Materialism alone. [This note was written before I had the advantage of Professor Clifford's acquaintance, but now I leave it, as I leave all other parts of this essay—viz., as it was originally written.—1878.]

[8] To avoid burdening the text, I have omitted another criticism which may be made on Locke's argument. "Triangle" is a word by which we designate a certain figure, one of the properties of which is that the sum of its angles is equal to two right angles. In other words, any figure which does not exhibit this property is not that figure which we designate a triangle. Hence, when Locke says he cannot conceive of a triangle which does not present this property, it may be answered that his inability arises merely from the fact that any figure which fails to present this property is not a figure to which the term "triangle" can apply. Thus viewed, however, the illustration would obviously be absurd, for the same reason that the question of the clown is absurd, "Can you think of a horse that is just like a cow?" What Locke evidently means is, that we cannot conceive of any geometrical figure which presents all the other properties of a triangle without also presenting the property in question. Now, even admitting, with Locke, that it is as inconceivable that the entity known to us as Matter should possess the property of causing thought as it is that the figure which we term a triangle should posses the property of containing more than two right angles, still it remains, for the purposes of Locke's supposed theistic demonstration, to prove that it is an inconceivable for the entity which we call Mind not to be due to another Mind, as it is for a triangle not to contain, other than two right angles. But, further, even if it were possible to prove this, the demonstration would make as much against Theism as in favour of it; for if, as the illustration of the triangle implies, we restrict the meaning of the word "Mind" to an entity one of whose essential qualities is that it should be caused by another Mind, the words "Supreme and Uncaused Mind" involve a contradiction in terms, just as much as would the words "A square triangle having four right angles." It would, therefore, seem that if we adhere to Locke's argument, and pursue it to its conclusion, the only logical outcome would be this:—Seeing that by the word "Mind," I expressly connote the quality of derivation from a prior Mind, as a quality belonging no less essentially to Mind than the quality of presenting two right angles belongs to a triangle; therefore, whatever other attributes I ascribe to the First Cause, I must clearly exclude the attribute Mind; and hence, whatever else such a Cause may be, it follows from my argument that it certainly is—Not Mind.

[9] Hamilton.

[10] Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. i. pp. 25-31.

[11] Lectures on Metaphysics, vol. ii. p. 542.

[12] Loc. cit., p. 543.

[13] Appendix to Discussions, pp. 614, 165.

[14] Mill, in the lengthy chapter which he devotes to the freedom of the will in his Examination, does not notice this point.

[15] If more evidence can be wanted, it is supplied in some suggestive facts of Psychology. For example, "From our earliest childhood, the idea of doing wrong (that is, of doing what is forbidden, or what is injurious to others) and the idea of punishment are presented to the mind together, and the intense character of the impressions causes the association between them to attain the highest degree of closeness and intimacy. Is it strange, or unlike the usual processes of the human mind, that in these circumstances we should retain the feeling and forget the reason on which it is grounded? But why do I speak of forgetting? In most cases the reason has never, in our early education, been presented to the mind. The only ideas presented have been those of wrong and punishment, and an inseparable association has been created between these directly, without the help of any intervening idea. This is quite enough to make the spontaneous feelings of mankind regard punishment and a wrong-doer as naturally fitted to each other—as a conjunction appropriate in itself, independently of any consequences," &c.—Mill, Examination of Hamilton, p. 599.

[16] Grammar of Assent, pp. 106, 107.

[17] Throughout these considerations I have confined myself to the positive side of the subject. My argument being of the nature of a criticism on the erroneous inferences which are drawn from the good qualities of our moral nature, I thought it desirable, for the sake of clearness, not to burden that argument by the additional one as to the source of the evil qualities of that nature. This additional argument, however, will be found briefly stated at the close of my supplementary essay on Professor Flint's "Theism." On reading that additional argument, I think that any candid and unbiassed mind must conclude that, alike in what it is not as well as in what it is, our moral nature points to a natural genesis, as distinguished from a supernatural cause.

[18] The illustration to which I refer is that of the watershed of a country being precisely adapted to draining purposes. The rivers just fit their own particular beds: the latter occupy the lowest grounds, and get broader and deeper as they advance; pebbles, gravel, and sand all occupy the best teleological situations, &c., &c.

[19] "Order of Nature," by the Rev. Baden Powell, M.A., F.R.S., &c., 1859, pp. 228-241.

[20] I think it desirable to state that I perceived this great truth before I was aware that it had been perceived also by Mr. Spencer. His statement of it now occurs in the short chapter of First Principles entitled "Relations between Forces." So far as I an able to ascertain, no one has hitherto considered this important doctrine in its immediate relation to the question of Theism.

In using the term "persistence of force," I am aware that I am using a term which is not unopen to criticism. But as Mr. Spencer's writings have brought this term into such general use among speculative thinkers, it seemed to me undesirable to modify it. Questions of mere terminology are without any importance in a discussion of this kind, provided that the terms are universally understood to mean what they are intended to mean; and I think that the signification which Mr. Spencer attaches to his term, "persistence of force," is sufficiently precise. Therefore, adopting his usage, whenever throughout the following pages I speak of force as persisting, what I intend to be understood is, that there is a something—call it force, or energy, or x—which, so far as experience or imagination can extend, is, in its relation to us, ubiquitous and illimitable; or, in other words, that it universally presents the property of permanence. (See, for a more detailed explanation, supplementary essay, "On the Final Mystery of Things.")

[21] Hamilton may here be especially noticed, because he went so far as to maintain that the phenomena of the external world, taken by themselves, would ground a valid argument to the negation of God. Although I cannot but think that this position was a conspicuously irrational one for any competent thinker to occupy before the scientific doctrine of the correlation of the forces had been enunciated, nevertheless I cannot lose the opportunity of alluding to this remarkable feature in Sir William Hamilton's philosophy, showing as it does that same prophetic forestalling of the results which have since followed from the discovery of the conservation of energy, as was shown by his no less remarkable theory of causation. (See supplementary essay "On the Final Mystery of Things.")

[22] Mr. N. Lockyer's work is now supplying important evidence on these points.—1878.

[23] It will of course be observed that if matter and force are identical, the unification is complete.

[24] Herbert Spencer.

[25] It may here be observed that the above discussion would not be affected by the view of Professor Clifford and others, that natural law is to be regarded as having a subjective rather than an objective signification—that what we call a natural law is merely an arbitrary selection made by ourselves of certain among natural processes. The discussion would not be affected by this view, because the argument is really based upon the existence of a cosmos as distinguished from a chaos; and therefore it would be rather an intensification of the argument than otherwise to point out that, for the maintenance of a cosmos, natural laws, as conceived by us, would be inadequate. And this seems a fitting place to make the almost superfluous remark, that throughout this present essay I have used the words "Natural Law," "Supreme Law-giver," &c., in an apparently unguarded sense, merely in order to avoid needless obscurity. Fully sensible as I am of the misleading nature of the analogy which these words embody, I have yet adopted them for the sake of perspicuity—being careful, however, never to allow the false analogy which they express to enter into an argument on either side of the question. Thus, even where it is said that the existence of Natural Law points to the existence of a Supreme Law-maker, the argument might equally well be phrased: The existence of an orderly cosmos points to the existence of a disposing mind.

[26] First Principles, pp. 27-29.

[27] It may be here observed that this quality of indefiniteness on the part of such reasoning is merely a practical outcome of the theoretical considerations adduced in Chapter V. For as we there saw that the ratio between the known and the unknown is in this case wholly indefinite, it follows that any symbols derived from the region of the known—even though such symbols be the highest generalities which the latter region affords—must be wholly indefinite when projected into the region of the unknown. Or rather let us say, that as the region of the unknown is but a progressive continuation of the region of the known, the determinate value of symbols of thought varies inversely as the distance—or, not improbably, as the square of the distance—from the sphere of the known at which they are applied.

[28] i.e., illegitimate in a relative sense. The conclusion is legitimate enough in a formal sense, and as establishing a probability of some unassignable degree of value. But it would be illegitimate if this quality of indefiniteness were disregarded, and the conclusion supposed to possess the same character of actual probability as it has of formal definition.

[29] In order not to burden the text with details, I have presented these reflections in their most general terms. Thus, if it be granted that cosmic harmony results from the combined action of general laws, and that these laws are the necessary result of the primary qualities of force and matter, this the most general statement of the atheistic position includes all more special considerations as a genus includes its species; and therefore it would not signify, for the purposes of the atheistic argument, whether or not any such more special considerations are possible. Nevertheless, for the sake of completeness, I may here observe that we are not wholly without indications in nature of the physical causation whereby the effect of cosmic harmony is produced. The universal tendency of motion to become rhythmical—itself, as Mr. Spencer was the first to show, a necessary consequence of the persistence of force—is, so to speak, a conservative tendency: it sets a premium against natural cataclysms. But a more important consideration is this,—that during the evolution of natural law in the way suggested in Chapter IV., as every newly evolved law came into existence it must have been, as it were, grafted on the stock of all pre-existing natural laws, and so would not enter the cosmic system as an element of confusion, but rather as an element of further progress. For instance, when, with the origin of organic nature, the law of natural selection entered upon the cosmos, it was grafted upon the pre-existing stock of other natural laws, and so combined within them in unity. And a little thought will show that it was impossible that it should do otherwise; for it was impossible that natural selection could ever produce organisms which would ever be able by their existence to conflict with the pre-existing system of astronomic or geologic laws; seeing that organisms, being a product of later evolution than these laws, would either have to be adapted to them or perish. And hence the new law of natural selection, which consists in so adapting organisms to the pre-existing laws that they must either conform to them or die. Now, I have chosen the case of natural selection because, as alluded to in the text, it is the law of all others which is the most conspicuously effective in producing the harmonious complexity of nature. But the same kind of considerations may be seen to apply to most of the other general laws with which we are acquainted, particularly if we bear in mind that the general outcome of their united action as we observe it—the cosmic harmony on which so much stress is laid—is not perfectly harmonious. Cataclysms—whether it be the capture of an insect, or the ruin of a star—although events of comparatively rare occurrence if at any given time we take into account the total number of insects or the total number of stars, are events which nevertheless do occasionally happen. And the fact that even cataclysms take place in accordance with so-called natural law, serves but to emphasise the consideration on which we are engaged—viz., that the total result of the combined action of general laws is not such as to produce perfect order. Lastly, if the answer is made that human ideas of perfect order may not correspond with the highest ideal of such order, I observe that to make such a answer is merely to abandon the subject of discussion; for if a theist rests his argument on the basis of our human conception of order, he is not free to maintain his argument and at the same time to abandon its basis at whatever point the latter may be shown untenable.

[30] Since the above was written, the first volume of Mr. Spencer's "Sociology" has been published; and those who may not as yet have read the first half of that work are here strongly recommended to do so; for Mr. Spencer has there shown, in a more connected and conclusive manner than has ever been shown before, how strictly natural is the growth of all superstitions and religions—i.e., of all the theories of personal agency in nature.—1878.

[31] Herbert Spencer's Essays, vol. iii. pp. 246-249 (1874).

[32] This is the truly inconceivable element in the physical theory. As I have shown in the pleading on the side of Atheism, the supposed inconceivability of cosmic harmony being due to mindless forces, is not of such a kind as wholly refuses to be surmounted by symbolic conceptions of a sufficiently abstract character. But it is impossible, by the aid of any symbols, to gain a conception of an eternal existence. And I may here point out, that if Mind is said to be the cause of evolution, not only does the statement involve the inconceivable proposition that such a Mind must be infinite in respect to its powers of supervision, direction, &c.; but the statement also involves a necessary alternative between two additional inconceivable propositions—viz., either that such a Mind must have been eternal, or that it must have come into existence without a cause. In this respect, therefore, it would seem that the theory of Atheism has the advantage over that of Theism; for while the former theory is under the necessity of embodying only a single inconceivable term, the latter theory is under the necessity of embodying two such terms.

[33] Mr. Herbert Spencer has treated of this subject in his memorable controversy with Mill on the "Universal Postulate" (see Psychology, Sec. 427), and refuses to entertain the term "Inconceivable" as applicable to any propositions other than those wherein "the terms cannot, by any effort, be brought before consciousness in that relation which the proposition asserts between them." That is to say, he limits the term "Inconceivable" to that which is absolutely inconceivable; and he then proceeds to affirm that all propositions "which admit of being framed in thought, but which are so much at variance with experience, in which its terms have habitually been otherwise united, that its terms cannot be put in the alleged relation without effort," ought properly to be termed "incredible" propositions. Now I cannot see that the class "Incredible propositions" is, as this definition asserts, identical with the class which I have termed "Relatively inconceivable" propositions. For example, it is a familiar observation that, on looking at the setting sun, we experience an almost, if not quite, insuperable difficulty in conceiving the sun's apparent motion as due to our own actual motion, and yet we experience no difficulty in believing it. Conversely, I entertain but little difficulty in conceiving—i.e., imagining—a shark with a mammalian heart, and yet it would require extremely strong evidence to make me believe that such an animal exists. The truth appears to be that our language is deficient in terms whereby to distinguish between that which is wholly inconceivable from that which is with difficulty conceivable. This, it seems to me, was the principle reason of the dispute between Spencer and Mill above alluded to,—the former writer having always used the word "Inconceivable" in the sense of "Absolutely inconceivable," and the latter having apparently used it—in his Logic and elsewhere—in both senses. I have endeavoured to remedy this defect in the language by introducing the qualifying words, "Absolutely" and "Relatively," which, although not appropriate words, are the best that I am able to supply. The conceptive faculty of the individual having been determined by the experience of the race, that which is inconceivable by the intelligence of the race may be said to be inconceivable to the intelligence of the individual in an absolute sense; no effort on his part can enable him to surmount the organically imposed conditions of his conceptive faculty. But that which is inconceivable merely to one individual or generation, while it is not inconceivable to the intelligence of the race, may properly be said to be inconceivable to the intelligence of that individual or generation only in a relative sense; apart from the special condition to which the individual intelligence has been subjected, there is nothing in the conditions of human intelligence as such to prevent the thing from being conceived. [While this work has been passing through the press, I have found that Mr. G. H. Lewes has already employed the above terms in precisely the same sense as that which is above explained.—1878.]

[34] I should here like to have added some considerations on Sir W. Hamilton's remarks concerning the effect of training upon the mind in this connection; but, to avoid being tedious, I shall condense what I have to say into a few sentences. What Hamilton maintains is very true, viz., that the study of classics, moral and mental philosophy, &c., renders the mind more capable of believing in a God than does the study of physical science. The question, however, is, Which class of studies ought to be considered the more authoritative in this matter? I certainly cannot see what title classics, history, political economy, &c., have to be regarded at all; and although the mental and moral sciences have doubtless a better claim, still I think they must be largely subordinate to those sciences which deal with the whole domain of nature besides. Further, I should say that there is no very strong affirmative influence created on the mind in this respect by any class of studies; and that the only reason why we so generally find Theism and classics, &c., united, is because we so seldom find classics, &c., and physical science united; the negative influence of the latter, in the case of classical minds, being therefore generally absent.

[35] The qualities named are only known in a relative sense, and therefore the apparent contradiction may be destitute of meaning in an absolute sense.

[36] All the quotations in this Appendix have been taken from the chapter on "Our knowledge of the existence of a God," and from the early part of that on "The extent of human knowledge," together with the appended letter to the Bishop of Worcester.

[37] A criticism of Mr. John Fiske's proposed system of theology as expounded in his work on "Cosmic Philosophy" (Macmillan & Co., 1874).

[38] Cosmic Philosophy, vol. i. pp. 87-89.

[39] Cosmic Philosophy, vol. ii. pp. 429, 430.

[40] Ibid., p. 441.

[41] Ibid., pp. 450, 451.

[42] Principles of Psychology, vol. i. pp. 159-161.

[43] We thus see that the question whether there may not be "something quasi-psychical in the constitution of things" is a question which does not affect the position of Theism as it has been left by a negation of the self-conscious personality of God. But as the speculations on which this question has been reared are in themselves of much philosophical interest, I may here observe that, in one form or another, they have been dimly floating in men's minds for a long time past. Thus, excepting the degree of certainty with which it is taught, we have in Mr. Spencer's words above quoted a reversion to the doctrine of Buddha; for, as "force is persistent," all that would happen on death, supposing the doctrine true, would be an escape of the "circumscribed aggregate" of units forming the individual consciousness into the unlimited abyss of similar units constituting the "Absolute Being" of the Cosmists, or the "Divine Essence" of the Buddhists. Again, the doctrine in a vague form pervades the philosophy of Spinoza, and is next clearly enunciated by Wundt. Lastly, in a recently published very remarkable essay "On the Nature of Things in Themselves," Professor Clifford arrives at a similar doctrine by a different route. The following is the conclusion to which he arrives:—"That element of which, as we have seen, even the simplest feeling is a complex, I shall call Mind-stuff. A moving molecule of inorganic matter does not possess mind or consciousness, but it possesses a small piece of mind-stuff. When molecules are so combined together as to form the film on the under side of a jellyfish, the elements of mind-stuff which go along with them are so combined as to form the faint beginnings of Sentience. When the molecules are so combined as to form the brain and nervous system of a vertebrate, the corresponding elements of mind-stuff are so combined as to form some kind of consciousness; that is to say, changes in the complex which take place at the same time get so linked together that the repetition of one implies the repetition of the other. When matters take the complex form of a living human brain, the corresponding mind-stuff takes the form of a human consciousness, having intelligence and volition." (Mind, January, 1878.)

[44] Theism, by Robert Flint, D.D., LL.D., Professor of Divinity in the University of Edinburgh, &c.

[45] Such being the objects in view, I have not thought it necessary to extend this criticism into anything resembling a review of Professor Flint's work as a whole; but, on the contrary, I have aimed rather at confining my observations to those parts of his treatise which embody the current arguments from teleology alone. I may here observe, however, in general terms, that I consider all his arguments to have been answered by anticipation in the foregoing examination of Theism. I may also here observe, that throughout the following essay I have used the word "design" in the sense in which it is used by Professor Flint himself. This sense is distinctly a different one from that which the word bears in the writings of the Paley, Bell, and Chalmers school. For while in the latter writings, as pointed out in Chapter III., the word bears its natural meaning of a certain process of thought, in Professor Flint's work it is used rather as expressive of a product of intelligence. In other words, "design," as used by Professor Flint, is synonymous with intention, irrespective of the particular psychological process by which the intention may have been put into effect.

[46] Op. cit., pp. 255-257.

[47] Let it be observed that there is a distinction between what I may call substantial and formal existence. Thus there is no doubt that flowers as flowers perish, or become non-existent; but the substances of which they were composed persist. And, in this connection, I may here point out that if the universe is infinite in space and time, the universe as a whole would present substantial existence as standing out of relation to space and time, whereas innumerable portions of the universe present only formal existences, because standing in relation both to space and time. Thus, for instance, the solar system, as a solar system, must have an end in time as it has a boundary in space; but as the substance of which it consists will not become extinguished by the extinction of the system, it may not now stand in any real relation to what we call space and time. I am inclined to think that it is upon the idea of non-existence in this formal sense that we construct a pseud-idea of non-existence in a substantial sense; but it is evident that if the universe as a whole is absolute, this pseud-idea must represent as impossibility. And from this it follows, that if existence is infinite in space and time, every quantum of it with which our experience comes into relation must represent, as its essential quality, that quality which we find to be presented by the substance of things—the quality, that is, of persistence.

THE END