In the current use both of philosophical and popular language, Certitude is spoken of in a twofold sense. We speak of a belief or conviction of our own minds as possessing the character of Certitude, when it is so strong, and so firmly rooted that it excludes all doubt or hesitation;—we speak also of an object or event as possessing the same character, when it is so presented to our minds as to produce the full assurance of its reality. Hence the distinction between subjective and objective Certitude. The former is a fact of consciousness; it is simply the undoubting assent which we yield to certain judgments, whether these judgments be true or false; it exists in us, and not in the objects of thought; it denotes a condition of our minds, which may, or may not, be in accordance with the actual state of things. The latter is truth or certainty considered objectively, as existing in the objects of our knowledge; it is independent of us and of our conceptions; it is as it is, whether it be known or unknown to us; our belief cannot add to its reality, nor can our unbelief diminish or destroy it. Certitude, considered as a mental state, denotes simply the strength of our conviction or belief, as distinguished from doubt or mere opinion; but, considered as an objective reality, it denotes the ground or reason existing in the nature of things for the convictions which we cherish. Subjective certitude is not always the index or the proof of objective truth, for men often believe with the strongest assurance what they find reason afterwards to doubt or to disbelieve; and the prevalence of many false beliefs, sincerely cherished and zealously maintained, raises the question, how we may best discriminate between truth and error? Hence the various theories of Certitude, and hence also the antagonist theories of Skepticism.

The theories of Certitude may be reduced to three classes. The first places the ground of Certitude in Reason; the second in Authority; the third, in Evidence, including under that term both the external manifestations of truth, and the internal principles or laws of thought by which we are determined in forming our judgments in regard to them. Each of these theories, however, has appeared in various phases in the history of philosophical speculation. The Individual Reason of Martineau, the Generic Reason of Lamennais, the Impersonal Reason of Cousin, the Authority of the Race, and the Infallibility of the Church, are specimens of these varieties.

The theory which places the principle of Certitude in REASON has assumed at least two distinct shapes. In the one it discards all authority except that of private judgment or individual reason; in the other it appeals to a higher reason, which is said to be impersonal and infallible, and which is supposed to regulate and determine the convictions of the human mind. In the former shape, it appears in the speculations of Martineau; in the latter, it is advocated by Cousin; and in one or other of these shapes it constitutes the ground-principle of RATIONALISM. The theory, again, which places the principle of Certitude in AUTHORITY has also assumed two distinct shapes. In the one it speaks of a universal consent or Generic Reason, the reason not of the individual but of the race to which he belongs, and exhibits a singular combination of the Philosophy of Common Sense as taught by Dr. Reid and the Scottish School, with the principle of Authoritative Tradition as taught in the Popish Church; in the other, it refers more specifically, not to the infallibility of the race at large, but to the infallibility of a select body, regularly organized and invested with peculiar powers, into whose hands has been committed the sacred deposit and the sole guardianship of truth, whether in matters of philosophy or faith. In both forms it is presented in the writings of M. Gerbet and M. Lamennais, and in both it is necessary for the full maintenance of the Popish system of doctrine. The theory, again, which places the principle of Certitude in EVIDENCE, admits of being exhibited in two very distinct aspects. In the one, it has been treated as if Evidence were purely subjective, as if it belonged exclusively to thought, and not to the object of thought, or as if it depended solely on the perceptions of our minds, and not at all on any objective reality which is independent of them, and which is equally true whether it be perceived by our minds or not. In this form it is a theory of Individualism, and has a strong tendency towards Skepticism. In the other aspect, Evidence is regarded as the sole and sufficient ground of Certitude, but it is viewed both objectively and subjectively;—objectively, as having its ground and reason in a reality that is independent of our perceptions, and that may or may not be perceived without being the less true or the less certain in itself;—and yet subjectively also, as being equally dependent on certain principles of reason or laws of thought, without which no external manifestation would suffice to create the ideas and beliefs of the human mind, since the evidence which is exhibited externally must not only exist, but must be perceived, discerned, and appreciated, before it can generate belief: but when perceived, it produces conviction, varying in different cases in degree, and amounting in some to absolute certainty, which leaves no room either for denial or doubt.

Such are the three grand theories of Certitude, and the several distinct forms or phases in which they have severally appeared. We have no hesitation in declaring our decided preference for the second form of the third theory,—that which resolves the principle or ground of Certitude into EVIDENCE; but EVIDENCE considered both objectively and subjectively,—objectively, as that which exists whether it is perceived or not, and is independent of the caprices of individual minds, and subjectively, as that which must be discerned before its proper impression can be produced, which must be judged of according to the laws of human thought, and which, when so discerned and judged of, imparts a feeling of assurance which no sophistry can shake and no philosophy strengthen.

According to some recent theories, Certitude belongs to our knowledge, only because that knowledge is derived from a reason superior to our own,—a reason not personal, but universal, not individual but generic, which, although not belonging to ourselves, is supposed to hold communication with our minds: and if this were meant merely to remind us of the limitation of our faculties, and of our consequent liability to error, or even to teach us the duty of acknowledging our dependence on a higher power, it might be alike unobjectionable and salutary; but when it is applied to undermine the authority of private judgment and to supersede the exercise of free inquiry, they have a tendency to excite suspicion and distrust in every thoughtful mind. The capital error which pervades all these speculations consists in not distinguishing aright between the evidence which constitutes the ground of our belief, and the faculty by which that evidence is discerned and appreciated. The Generic Reason of Lamennais, as well as the uniform Tradition of the Church, may constitute, when duly improved, a branch of the objective evidence for the truth, and as such they have been applied even by Protestant writers when they have appealed to common consent as a collateral proof, auxiliary to that which is more direct and conclusive; but they cannot be regarded as the exclusive grounds of the certainty of human knowledge, since this arises from the fundamental, universal, and invariable laws of human thought.

* * * * *

The term Skepticism, again, may denote either a mere state of mind,—a state of suspense or doubt in regard to some particular fact or opinion; or a system of speculative philosophy, relating to the principles of human knowledge or the grounds of human belief. In the former sense, it implies nothing more than the want of a sure and satisfactory conviction of the truth on the particular point in question. Were it expressed in words, it would simply amount to a verdict of "non liquet." In the latter sense, it imports much more than this; it is not merely a sense of doubt respecting any one truth, but a system of doubt in regard to the grounds of our belief in all truth, a subtle philosophy which seeks to explain the phenomena of Belief by resolving them into their ultimate principles, and which often terminates—in explaining them away. In both forms, it has existed, either continuously or in ever-recurring cycles, from the earliest dawn of speculative inquiry; and while it has seemed to retard or arrest the progress of human knowledge, it has really been overruled as a means of quickening the intellectual powers, and imparting at once greater precision and comprehensiveness to the matured results of Science.

Theoretical Skepticism may be divided into three distinct branches: First, Universal or Philosophical Skepticism, which professes to deny, or rather to doubt the certainty of all human knowledge; secondly, Partial or Religious Skepticism, which admits the possible certitude of human knowledge in other respects, but holds that religious truth is either altogether inaccessible to our faculties, or that it is not supported by sufficient evidence; thirdly, a mongrel system, which combines Philosophic Doubt with Ecclesiastical Dogmatism, and which may be aptly characterized as the Skeptico-Dogmatic theory.[238]

We agree with Dr. Reid in thinking that Universal Skepticism is unanswerable by argument, and can only be effectively met by an appeal to consciousness.[239] It might be shown, indeed, that in so far as it assumes, however slightly, the aspect of a positive or dogmatic system, it is self-contradictory and absurd; it might also be shown that doubt itself implies thought, and thought existence or reality: but the ultimate appeal must be to the facts of human consciousness, and the laws of thought which operate in every human breast. And when such an appeal is made, we can have no anxiety in regard to the result, nor any apprehension that philosophical skepticism can ever become the prevailing creed of the popular mind. There is a risk, however, of danger arising from a different source; it may not be always remembered that the theory of Skepticism must be universal to be either consistent or consequent; and hence it may be partially applied to some truths, while it is practically abandoned in regard to other truths, which are neither more certain nor less liable to objection than the former. Thus the skeptical difficulties which have been raised against the doctrines of Ontology are of such a kind that if they have any validity or force, they bear as strongly against the reality of an external world and the existence of our fellow-men, as against the doctrine which affirms the being of God: yet many will be found urging them against the latter doctrine, who do not profess to have any doubt in regard to the two former; and it is of paramount importance to show that this is a partial and therefore unfair application of their own principles, and that they cannot consistently admit the one without also admitting the other.

Atheism, in its skeptical form, must either be a mere sense of doubt in regard to the sufficiency of the evidence in favor of the being and perfections of God; or a speculative system, which attempts to justify that doubt by some theory of philosophical skepticism, either partial or universal. In the latter case, it may be best dealt with by showing that it affects the certainty of our common knowledge, not less than that of our religious belief, and that we cannot consistently reject Theology, and yet retain our convictions on other cognate subjects of thought. In the former case, it should be treated as a case of ignorance, by illustrating the evidence, and urging it on the attention of those who have hitherto been blind to its force; reminding them that their not seeing it is no proof that it does not exist, and that doubt itself on such a question, so nearly affecting their duty and welfare, involves a solemn obligation to patient, candid, and dispassionate inquiry.

"A skeptic in religion," says Bishop Earle, "is one that hangs in the balance with all sorts of opinions, whereof not one but stirs him, and none sways him. A man guiltier of credulity than he is taken to be; for it is out of his belief of everything that he fully believes nothing. Each religion scares him from its contrary, none persuades him to itself.... He finds reason in all opinions, truth in none; indeed, the least reason perplexes him, and the best will not satisfy him.... He finds doubts and scruples better than resolves them, and is always too hard for himself.... In sum, his whole life is a question, and his salvation a greater, which death only concludes, and then he—is resolved."[240]

This second phase or form of Skepticism, which we have designated as Partial or Religious Skepticism, admits the possible certitude of human knowledge in other respects, and especially in regard to secular and scientific pursuits, but holds that religious truth is either altogether inaccessible to man with his present faculties, or that its certainty cannot be evinced by any legitimate process of reasoning.

These two positions are in some respects widely different, although they are often combined, and always conducive to the same result,—the practical negation of Religion. Many who never dream of doubting the certainty of human knowledge, in so far as it relates to their secular or scientific pursuits, are prone to cherish a skeptical spirit in regard to religious or spiritual truths; and this, not because they have examined and weighed the evidence to which Theology appeals, and found it wanting, but rather because they have a lurking suspicion that men, with their present faculties, are incapable of rising to the knowledge of supernatural things, and that they could attain to no certainty, while they might expose themselves to much delusion, by entering on the inquiry at all. This is their apology for ignoring Religion altogether, and contenting themselves with other branches of knowledge, which are supposed to be more certain in themselves as well as more conducive to their present welfare. In this respect, it is deeply instructive to remark that Infidelity has been singularly at variance with itself. At one time, in the age of Herbert, human reason was extolled, to the disparagement of Divine Revelation; it was held to be so thoroughly competent to deal with all the truths of Theology, and to arrive, on mere natural grounds, at such an assured belief in them, that no supernatural message was needed either to illustrate, or confirm, or enforce the lessons of Nature: but now, when the lessons of Nature herself are called in question, human reason is disparaged as incompetent to the task of deciphering her dark hieroglyphics, and while she can traverse with firm step every department of the material world, and soar aloft, as on eagle's wings, to survey the suns and systems of astronomy, she is held to be incapable alike of religious inquiry and of divine instruction! There is, indeed, a striking contrast between the high pretensions of Reason in matters of philosophy, and the bastard humility which it sometimes assumes in matters of faith.

But there is another, and a still more subtle, form of Partial or Religious Skepticism. It does not absolutely deny the possibility of religious knowledge, nor does it dogmatically affirm that man, with his present faculties, can have no religious convictions; it contents itself with saying, and attempting to prove, that the certitude of religious truth cannot be evinced by any legitimate process of reasoning. It examines the proof, and detects flaws in it. It discusses, with a severe and critical logic, the arguments that have been employed to establish the first and most fundamental article of Theology, the existence of God; and discarding them one by one, it reaches the conclusion that, whether true or not, it cannot be proved. Strange as it may appear, these sentiments have been embraced and avowed by men who still continue to profess their belief in God and Religion. Some have held that proof by reasoning is impossible, but only because it is superfluous. They distinguish between reason and reasoning; and hold that while the latter is incompetent to the task of proving the existence of God, the former spontaneously suggests the idea of a Supreme Cause, and imparts to it all the certainty which belongs to a direct intellectual intuition. Others distinguish between the Speculative and the Practical Reason; and hold that while the former cannot prove by an unexceptionable argument the existence of God, the latter affords a sufficient groundwork for religious belief and worship. Others, again, speak not so much of reason or reasoning, as of sentiment and instinct, as the source of our religious beliefs; and instead of addressing arguments to the understanding, they would make their appeal to the feelings and affections of the heart. There is still another class of writers who resolve all human knowledge, whether relating to things secular or spiritual, into what they call the principle of faith (foi), and to this class belong two distinct parties who are widely different from each other in almost everything else. It is important, therefore, to mark the radical difference between their respective systems, since it is apt to be concealed or disguised by the ambiguous use of the same phraseology by both. The one party may be described as the disciples of a Faith-Philosophy of Reason, the other of a Faith-Philosophy of Revelation: the former resolving all our knowledge into the intuitive perceptions or first principles of the human intellect, considered as a kind of divine and infallible, though natural inspiration; the latter contending that in regard at least to the knowledge of theological truth, human reason is utterly powerless, and can only arrive at certainty by faith in the divine testimony. The two are widely different, yet there are points of resemblance and agreement betwixt them, and on this account they have sometimes been classed together under a wide and sweeping generalization.

The form of Partial Skepticism to which these remarks apply is perhaps more common than it is generally supposed to be. On what other principle, indeed, can we account, at least in the case of religious men, for the indifference and even aversion with which they turn away from any attempt to prove by natural evidence the existence and providence of God? The prevalence of such feelings even within the Christian community has been admitted and deplored by one of the most profound spiritual teachers of modern times;[241] and it can only be explained, where Religion is cherished and professed, on the supposition that they regard proof by argument as superfluous, either because it is superseded by the natural instincts and intuitions of the human mind, or by the authoritative teaching of Divine Revelation. But it ought to be seriously considered, on the one hand, that the instincts and intuitions of human reason are not altogether independent of the natural evidence which is exhibited in the constitution and course of Nature; and, on the other hand, that Revelation itself refers to that natural evidence, and recommends it to our careful and devout study.

Besides the theories of Partial Skepticism to which we have already referred, there is a mongrel system which seems to combine the two opposite extremes of Doubt and Dogmatism, and which, for that reason, may be not inaptly designated as Skeptico-Dogmatic.[242] Ever since the era of the Reformation, when the principle of free inquiry, and the right or rather the duty of private judgment in matters of Religion, were so strenuously affirmed and so successfully maintained, there has been a standing controversy between the Popish and Protestant Churches respecting the rival claims of Reason and Authority as the ultimate arbiter on points of faith. Extreme opinions on either side were advanced. One party, repudiating all authority, whether human or divine, rejected alike the testimony of Scripture and the decrees of the Church, and, receiving only what was supposed to be in accordance with the dictates of Reason, sought to establish a scheme of Rationalism in connection with at least a nominal profession of Christianity. The opposite party, not slow to detect the error into which extreme Protestants had fallen, and intent seemingly on fastening that error on all who had separated themselves from the Catholic Church, affirmed and endeavored to prove that Rationalism, in its most obnoxious sense, is inherent in and inseparable from the avowed principles of the Reformation, and that the recognition of the right of private judgment is necessarily subversive of all authority in matters of faith. They did not see, or if they did see, they were unwilling to acknowledge that Rationalism is a very different thing from the legitimate use of Reason; and that while the former repudiates all authority, whether human or divine, the latter may bow with profound reverence to the supreme authority of the Inspired Word, and even listen with docility to the ministerial authority of the Church, in so far as her teaching is in accordance with the lessons of Scripture. It may be safely affirmed that the Confessions and Articles of all the Protestant Churches in Europe and America do recognize the authority both of God and the Church, and are as much opposed to Rationalism, considered as a system which makes Reason the sole standard and judge, as they are to the opposite extreme of lordly domination over the faith and consciences of men. But such a controversy having arisen, it was to be expected that while eager partisans, on the one side, might unduly exalt and extol the powers and prerogatives of Reason, the adherents of Romanism, which claims the sanction of infallibility for her doctrines and decrees, would be tempted to follow an opposite course, and would seek to disparage the claims of Reason with the view of exalting the authority of the Church. Hence arose what has been called POPISH PYRRHONISM,—a system which attempts to combine Doubt with Dogmatism, and to establish the certitude of religious knowledge on the sole basis of authority, which is somehow supposed to be more secure and stable when it rests on the ruins of human reason. Not a few significant symptoms of a tendency in this direction have appeared from age to age. It was apparent in some of the writings, otherwise valuable, of Huet, Bishop of Avranches; some traces of it are discernible in the profound "Thoughts of Pascal;" but it was reserved for the present age to elaborate this tendency into a theory, and to give it the form of a regular system. This task was fearlessly undertaken by the eloquent but versatile Lamennais, while as yet he held office in the Church, and was publicly honored as one who was worthy to be called "the latest of the Fathers." His "Essay on Indifference in Matters of Faith," exhibits many proofs of a profound and vigorous intellect, and contains many passages of powerful and impressive eloquence. We heartily sympathize with it in so far as it is directed against that Liberalism which makes light of all definite articles of faith; but we deplore the grievous error into which he has been seduced by his zeal for the authority of the Church, when he attempts to undermine the foundations of all belief in the trustworthiness of the human faculties. In opposition to the claims of private judgment, he contends for the necessity of a Reason more elevated and more general as the only ground of Certitude, the supreme rule and standard of belief. This normal Reason he finds in the doctrine and decrees of an Infallible Church, wherever the Church is known; but where the Church is yet unknown, or while it was yet non-existent in its present organized form, he seeks this more general Reason in the common sense or unanimous consent of the race at large, and affirms that this is the sole ground of Certitude, and the ultimate standard of appeal in every question respecting the truth or falsity of our individual opinions.[243] He holds that the authority both of the Church and of the Race is infallible; and that its infallibility neither requires nor admits of proof.[244] With the view of establishing this one and exclusive criterion of Certitude, he assails the evidence of sense, the evidence of consciousness, the evidence of memory, the evidence even of axiomatic truths and first principles, and involves everything except ecclesiastical authority or general reason in the same abyss of Skepticism.[245] He ventures even to affirm that "Geometry itself, the most exact of all the Sciences, rests, like every other, on common consent!" No wonder, then, that he should also found exclusively on authority our belief in the existence and government of God.

An intelligent member of his own communion propounds a very different, and much more reasonable, opinion: "Il n'y a pas d'autorite morale qui n'ait besoin de se prouver ellememe, d'une maniere quelconque, et d'etablir sa legitimite. En definitive, c'est a l'individu qu'elle s'addresse, car on ne croit pas par masse, on croit chacun pour soi. L'individu reste donc toujours juge, et juge inevitable de l'autorite intellectuelle qu'il accepte, ou de celle qui s'offre a lui. Nous n'avons pas a examiner si cette disposition constitutive de l'esprit humain est bonne ou mauvaise; la seule question que l'on en fait est vaine et sterile. Nous sommes necessairement amenes par l'observation physchologique a constater qu'il faut que l'homme croie a la fidelite du temoignage de ses sens individuels, et a la valeur de sa raison personelle, avant de faire un pas au-dela."[246]

We think it unnecessary to enter into a detailed discussion of this strange and startling theory, especially as the altered position of the writer in his relation to the Church before his death may be held to indicate that to a large extent it had been abandoned by himself. Nor should we have thought it worthy even of this transient notice, had we not discerned symptoms of an incipient tendency in a similar direction among some writers in the Protestant ranks. It should be remembered by divines of every communion that the rational faculties of man and their general trustworthiness are necessarily presupposed in any Revelation which may be addressed to them; and that in Scripture itself frequent appeals are made to the works of Creation and Providence, as affording at once a body of natural evidence, and a signal manifestation of His adorable perfections. It were a vain thing to hope that faith in God may be strengthened by a spirit of Skepticism in regard to Reason, which constitutes part of His own image on the soul of man.

It is but common justice to add that the speculations of Lamennais, so far from being sanctioned, were openly censured, by some of the most distinguished of his fellow-ecclesiastics. Such writers as Valroger, Gioberti, and the late Archbishop of Paris, gave forth their public protest against them, and have thereby done much to vindicate their Church from the imputation of conniving at the progress of Skepticism.

Valroger's testimony is strong and decided: "M. de Lamennais pretendait que la raison individuelle est incapable de nous donner la Certitude. Cette pretention est, suivant, nous absurde et funeste. N'est ce pas par notre raison individuelle que la verite-arrive a nous et devient notre bien? Quel moyen plus immediat pourrons-nous avoir de saisir la verite? Quel principe de connaisance ou de Certitude pourrait-on placer entre nous et notre raison? Et comment pourrions-nous l'employer, si ce ne'est avec notre raison? N'est ce pas une contradiction flagrante de vouloir persuader quelque chose a des hommes que l'on a declares incapables de connaitre certainement quoi que ce soit? A quoi bon une methode, une autorite infaillible, un enseignement Divin, si nous n'avons que des facultes trompeuses pour user de ces secours? Nous croyons, nous, que la raison individuelle peut connaitre avec certitude toutes les verites necessaires a l'accomplissement de notre destinee. Si nous avons besoin de la Grace, de la Revelation, de la Tradition, et de l'Eglise pour atteindre le but supreme de notre vie,—sur une foule de questions subalternes, nous peuvons arriver a une certitude complete, sans recourir a aucune exterieure, a aucun secours surnaturel."[247]

Gioberti is equally explicit: "M. de Lamennais dans sa theorie sur la Certitude, confond les deux methodes, Ontologique et Physiologique; il les rejette toutes les deux, et leur substitue la seule methode d'Autorite. Mais la methode d'Autorite est impossible sans un fondement Ontologique, et c'est une manifeste petition de principe que d'etabler l'Ontologie sur l'Autorite."[248]

And the late Archbishop of Paris,—the same who fell before the barricades, a martyr to Charity if not to Truth, and who seems to have had a wakeful eye on the progress of philosophic speculation,—took occasion, in a preface to the Abbe Maret's "Theodicee," to declare that Lamennais' system was obnoxious to the Church, because of its opposition to the doctrine of Rational Certitude: "Tout le monde sait que le clerge de France avait repousse le systeme de M. de Lamennais precisement a cause de son opposition a la Certitude Rationnelle constanment professee dans nos ecoles; et tout le monde peu savoir que les Bossuet, les Fenelon, les Descartes out raisonne, et que nous aussi nous raisonnons et discutons avec nos accusateurs," ... "preuve irrecusable que LE RATIONALISME ET LA RAISON SONT DEUX CHOSES FORT DIFFERENTES."[249]

PERRONE has given a similar testimony, and we cannot doubt that the more thoughtful adherents of Romanism must be sensible of the danger which is involved in any attempt to combine Rational Skepticism with Dogmatic Authority.

It were well, however, if they would reconsider their position with reference to this whole question, in its more general bearings in conection with their doctrine as to the rule of faith; and weigh, with candid impartiality, the arguments which have been adduced by Protestant writers on the subject.[250]

FOOTNOTES:

[233] M. A. FRANCK, "Rapport," Paris, 1847. M. A. JAVARY, "Ouvrage Couronne par l'Institut," 1847.

[234] M. ED. MERCIER, "De la Certitude, dans ses Rapports avec la Science et la Foi," 1844. M. A. VERA, "Probleme de la Certitude," 1843. ABBE GERBET, "Des Doctrines Philosophiques sur la Certitude, dans leur Rapports avec les Fondemens de la Theologie." ABBE DE LAMENNAIS, "Du Fondement de la Certitude," 1826. Vols. II. and III. of the "Essai sur l'Indifference en Matiere de la Religion." 4 vols., 1844.

[235] M. FRANCK, p. 237. M. JAVARI, p. 28.

[236] AMAND SAINTE, "Vie de Spinoza," p. 201. ABBE LAMENNAIS, "Essai sur l'Indifference," IV. 256.

[237] FENELON, "Oeuvres Spirituelles," I. 138.

[238] SEXTUS EMPIRICUS, "Adversus Mathematicos," that is, Dogmaticos—teachers of [Greek: mathemata]. GLANVILLE, "Scepsis Scientifica." HUME, and MONTAIGNE, "Essays." H. O'CONNOR, "Connected Essays and Tracts." VILLEMANDY, "Scepticismus Debellatus; seu, Humanae Cognitionis Ratio ab imis radicibus explicata; ejusdem Certitudo adversus Scepticos quosque veteres ac novos invicte asserta." LAMENNAIS, "Essai sur l'Indifference."

[239] DR. REID, Essays,—"On First Principles," II. 249-252, 293, 300. SIR WM. HAMILTON, "Reid," pp. 91, 101, 109.

[240] BISHOP EARLE, "Microcosmography," p. 120.

[241] DR. JOHN LOVE, of Glasgow, "Discourses."

[242] COUSIN, "Cours," II. 420, 422. MORELL, "History of Philosophy," I. 251; II. 221, 505, 522. SPINOZA, "Tractatus Theolog.-Polit.," p. 267. LAMENNAIS, "Essai sur l'Indifference," passim.

[243] LAMENNAIS, "Essai," II. 6, 7, 52, 60, 258.

[244] Ibid., II. 9, 97, 110.

[245] LAMENNAIS, "Essai," II. 59, 72, 75, 78, 80, 84, 94; IV. 255.

[246] BOUCHITTE, "Histoire des Preuves," p. 478.

[247] VALROGER, "Etudes Critiques," p. 574.

[248] GIOBERTI, "Introduction a l'Etude de la Philosophie," I. 592.

[249] MARET, "Theodicee," Preface, p. VIII.

[250] LA PLACETTE, "De Insanabill Romanae Ecclesiae Scepticismo."



CHAPTER IX.

THEORY OF SECULARISM.—G. J. HOLYOAKE.

Such is the new name under which Atheism has recently appeared among not a few of the tradesmen and artisans of the metropolis and provincial towns of Great Britain. In literature, it is represented by Mr. G. J. Holyoake, the author of an answer to Paley, the editor of "The Reasoner," and a popular lecturer and controversialist, whose public discussions are duly reported in that periodical, and occasionally reprinted in a separate form.[251] The extensive circulation which these and similar tracts have already obtained, the number of affiliated societies which have been formed in many of the chief centres of manufactures and commerce, the zeal and boldness of popular itinerant lecturers, and the urgent demands which have been incessantly made for the extension of their machinery by means of a propaganda fund, are all indications of a tendency, in some quarters, towards a form of unbelief, less speculative and more practical, but only on that account more attractive to the English mind, and neither less insidious nor less dangerous than any of the philosophical theories of Atheism.

We have often thought, indeed, that should Atheism ever threaten to become prevalent in England, this is the form which it is most likely to assume. The English mind is eminently practical; it has little sympathy with the profundity of German or the subtlety of French speculation on such subjects. A few speculative spirits may be influenced for a time by the reasonings of Comte, or the representations of "The Vestiges;" but the general mind of the community will desiderate something more solid and substantial; not content with any scientific theory, however ingenious, it will demand a practical system. And we are not sure that "Secularism" may not be made to appear, in the view of some, to be just such a system, since it dismisses or refuses to pronounce on many of the highest problems of human thought, insists on the necessary limitation of the human faculties, and seeks to confine both our aspirations and our thoughts to the interests and the duties of the present life. In estimating the probable influence of such a system on the public mind, we must not forget the large amount of practical irreligion which exists even in England, the strong temptation which is felt by many to escape from their occasional feelings of remorse and fear by embracing some plausible pretext for the neglect of prayer and other religious observances, and the disposition, natural and almost irresistible in such circumstances, to lend a willing ear to any doctrine which promises to relieve them of all responsibility with relation to God and a future state. The theory of Secularism is adapted to this state of mind; it chimes in with the instinctive tendencies of every ungodly mind; and it is the likeliest medium through which practical Atheism may pass into speculative Infidelity.

Mr. Holyoake, it is true, abjures the name both of an Atheist and Infidel. We admire the prudence of his policy, but cannot subscribe to the correctness of his reasons for doing so. "Mr. Southwell," he says, "has taken an objection to the term Atheism. We are glad he has. We have disused it a long time.... We disuse it, because Atheist is a worn-out word. Both the ancients and the moderns have understood by it one without God, and also without morality. Thus the term connotes more than any well-informed and earnest person accepting it ever included in it; that is, the word carries with it associations of immorality, which have been repudiated by the Atheist as seriously as by the Christian. Non-theism is a term less open to the same misunderstanding, as it implies the simple non-acceptance of the Theist's explanation of the origin and government of the world."[252]

But "Non-theism" was afterwards exchanged for "Secularism," as a term less liable to misconstruction, and more correctly descriptive of the real import of the theory. "Secularists was, perhaps, the proper designation of all who dissented extremely from the religious opinions of the day."—"Freethinking is the Secular sphere; drawing its line of demarcation between time and eternity, it works for the welfare of man in this world"—"The Secularist is the larger and more comprehensive designation of the Atheist."[253] With all this coyness and fastidiousness about names, there can be no doubt that the character of the system is essentially atheistic: "We refuse to employ the term God, not having any definite idea of it which we can explain to others,—not knowing any theory of such an existence as will enable us to defend that dogma to others. We therefore prefer the honest, though unusual designation of Atheist; not using it in the sense in which it is commonly employed, as signifying one without morality, but in its stricter sense of describing those without any determinate knowledge of Deity."[254] "That the Atheist does consider matter to be eternal is perfectly correct; and for this reason, no Atheist could make use of such a term as that matter originally possessed, or originally was; whatever is eternal has no origin, beginning, or end.... Organized plants and animals—man also with his noble intellect—are not now at least produced by supernatural causes; and the Atheist, without positively asserting that there must have been a beginning to life in this earth, argues that if a plant, an animal, or a man, can be produced at this time without supernatural interference, so also a first plant, a first animal, or a first man, may have been naturally produced in this earth under the right circumstances,—circumstances which probably cannot occur in the present condition of our globe. Our difficulties and our ignorance are not in the least dispelled, but on the contrary complicated and increased, by the adoption of the ancient belief in a Supernatural Contriver and Maker, who, after existing from eternity in absolute void and solitude, suddenly proceeded to create the universe out of nothing or out of himself."[255] The editor thinks "the course to be taken is to use the term Secularists as indicating general views, and accept the term Atheist at the point at which Ethics declines alliance with Theology; always, however, explaining the term Atheist to mean 'not seeing God,' visually or inferentially; never suffering it to be taken (as Chalmers, Foster, and many others represent it) for Anti-theism, that is, hating God, denying God, as hating implies personal knowledge as the ground of dislike, and denying implies infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof."[256]

These extracts are sufficient to illustrate the peculiar character of this popular form of Infidelity. It is not a philosophical system, although philosophical terms are often employed by its advocates; it does not even profess to solve, as the theory of Development does, any of the great problems of Nature. We shall offer a brief statement of its distinctive peculiarities, as it is developed by Mr. Holyoake, and suggest some considerations which should be seriously pondered by those who may be tempted to exchange Christianity for Secularism.

1. The theory of Secularism is a form, not of dogmatic, but of skeptical, Atheism; it is dogmatic only in denying the sufficiency of the evidence for the being and perfections of God. It does not deny, it only does not believe, His existence. There may be a God notwithstanding; there may even be sufficient evidence of His being, although some men cannot, or will not, see it. "They do not deny the existence of God, but only assert that they have not sufficient proof of His existence."[257] "The Non-theist takes this ground. He affirms that natural reason has not yet attained to (evidence of) Supernatural Being. He does not deny that it may do so, because the capacity of natural reason in the pursuit of evidence of Supernatural Being is not, so far as he is aware, fixed."—"The power of reason is yet a growth. To deny its power absolutely would be hazardous; and in the case of a speculative question, not to admit that the opposite views may in some sense be tenable, is to assume your own infallibility,—a piece of arrogance the public always punish by disbelieving you when you are in the right."[258] Accordingly the thesis which Mr. Holyoake undertook to maintain in public discussion was couched in these terms:—"That we have not sufficient evidence to believe in the existence of a Supreme Being independent of Nature;"[259] and so far from venturing to deny His existence, he makes the important admission, that "denying implies infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof."

It is admitted, then, by the Secularist himself,—that there may be a God,—that there may be evidence of His existence,—that it may yet be discovered in the progress of natural reason,—and that to deny any one of these possibilities would be to assume "infallibility," or to arrogate "infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof." Now, we humbly conceive that there is enough in these admissions, if not to disarm the Secular polemic, yet to shut up every seriously reflecting man, not, perhaps, to the instant recognition of a Divine Being, but certainly to the duty of earnest, patient, and persevering inquiry. It was with this view that both Chalmers and Foster penned those powerful passages which seem to have left some impression on the mind even of Mr. Holyoake, not for the purpose, as he seems to imagine, of confounding Atheism with Anti-theism, but for the very opposite purpose of discriminating between the two, so as to show that, the one being impossible, the other can afford no security against the possible truth of Religion. And every word of warning which they convey should tell with powerful effect on Mr. Holyoake's conscience, after the admissions which he has deliberately made, especially when he is engaged in the cheerless task of undermining the faith of multitudes in their "Father which is in heaven."

Dr. Chalmers devotes a chapter of his "Natural Theology" to illustrate "the duty which is laid upon men by the possibility or even the imagination of a God." He does not overlook, on the contrary he founds upon, the distinction between Skeptical and Dogmatic Atheism. "Going back," he says, "to the very earliest of our mental conceptions on this subject, we advert first to the distinction, in point of real and logical import, between unbelief and disbelief. There being no ground for affirming that there is a God, is a different proposition from there being ground for affirming that there is no God.... The Atheist does not labor to demonstrate that there is no God; but he labors to demonstrate that there is no adequate proof of there being one. He does not positively affirm the position, that God is not; but he affirms the lack of evidence for the position, that God is. Judging from the tendency and effect of his arguments, an Atheist does not appear positively to refuse that a God may be; but he insists that He has not discovered Himself, whether by the utterance of His voice in audible revelation, or by the impress of His hand upon visible nature. His verdict on the doctrine of a God is only that it is not proven; it is not, that it is disproven. He is but an Atheist: he is not an Anti-theist."

Mr. Holyoake can scarcely fail to recognize in these words a correct and graphic delineation of his own position and sentiments. Now, says Dr. Chalmers, "there is a certain duteous movement which the mind ought to take, on the bare suggestion that a God may be.... The certainty of an actual God binds over to certain distinct and most undoubted proprieties. But so also may the imagination of a possible God; in which case, the very idea of a God, even in its most hypothetical form, might lay a responsibility even upon Atheists.... The very idea of a God will bring along with it an instant sense and recognition of the moralities and duties that would be owing to Him. Should an actual God be revealed, we clearly feel that there is a something which we ought to be and to do in regard to Him. But more than this: should a possible God be imagined, there is a something not only which we feel that we ought, but there is a something which we actually ought to do or to be, in consequence of our being visited by such an imagination.... To this condition there attaches a most clear and incumbent morality. It is to go in quest of that unseen Benefactor, who, for aught I know, has ushered me into existence, and spread so glorious a panorama around me. It is to probe the secret of my being and my birth; and, if possible, to make discovery whether it was indeed the hand of a Benefactor that brought me forth from nonentity, and gave me place and entertainment in that glowing territory which is lighted up with the hopes and happiness of living men. It is thus that the very conception of a God throws a solemn responsibility after it."[260]

It is a dangerous mistake, then, to imagine either that we can ever know that there is no God, or that we can get rid of all responsibility by merely doubting His existence. Atheism, in so far as it is dogmatic, must, in his own language, "arrogate infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof;" and in so far as it is merely skeptical, it can afford no security against the fears and forebodings which doubt on such a subject must necessarily awaken in every thoughtful mind. And this consideration will become only the more solemn and impressive the longer we reflect upon it. Mr. Holyoake, however, is far from being consistent in his various statements on this subject. For not content with saying, "Most decidedly I believe that the present order of Nature is insufficient to prove the existence of an intelligent Creator," he adds that "no imaginable order, that no contrivance, however mechanical, precise, or clear, would be sufficient to prove it."[261] At one time he tells us that "an increasing party respectfully and deferentially avow their inability to subscribe to the arguments supposed to establish the existence of a Being distinct from Nature." At another, "We have always held that the existence of Deity is 'past finding out,' and we have held that the time employed upon the investigation might more profitably be devoted to the study of humanity." Again, "That central point in all religious belief—the existence of God—has not yet been approached in a frank spirit. The very terms of the assertion are as yet an enigma in language, the fact is yet a problem in philosophy; the world possesses as yet no adequate logic for that province of our speculation which lies beyond our immediate experience."[262] "Man must die to solve the problem of Deity's existence."[263] "The existence of God is a problem to which the mathematics of human intelligence seems to me to furnish no solution,"[264] "a problem without a solution, a hieroglyphic without an interpretation, a gordian knot still untied, a question unanswered, a thread still unravelled, a labyrinth untrod."[265] That there is here a strong expression of Skeptical Atheism is evident; but is there not something more? Does not Skeptical Atheism insensibly transform itself into Dogmatic, when doubt respecting the sufficiency of the evidence is combined with a denial of the possibility of any satisfactory proof, or of the capacity of the human mind to reach it, here or hereafter? Yet the plea is the want of sufficient evidence now; and this plea is urged in connection with the admission that "the power of reason is yet a growth," and that although "it has not yet attained to evidence of Supernatural Being," the denial of it "would imply infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof." Mr. Holyoake does not deny that there may be a God, distinct from Nature and superior to it; but he denies, first of all, the sufficiency of the evidence to which we appeal, embracing here that form of Atheism which is merely skeptical; and he denies, secondly, the possibility of any sufficient proof, for "no imaginable order would be sufficient," and the whole "subject exceeds human comprehension," embracing, in this instance, that form of Atheism which is strictly dogmatic, if not in affirming that there is no God, yet in affirming that it is impossible He can ever be known to exist. What then becomes of his cautious limitations,—"The fact is yet a problem in philosophy."—"The world possesses as yet no adequate logic for that province of speculation"—"Men must die to solve the problem of Deity's existence?" Is it still a problem, and one, too, which may after all be solved, and solved even in the affirmative? If it be, why may it not be solved before death? or what other evidence will there be after death? And as to the plea of insufficient evidence, what is its precise meaning? Does it mean merely that it has hitherto failed to convince himself and his associates? If so, how can he tell that it may not yet flash upon him with irresistible power, and that he too, like his former associate, Mr. Knight, may be able to say, "By the blessing of God, the exercise of those mental powers which He has bestowed upon me has led me to the conclusion that He exists. There is a God."[266] If it means more than this, will he say that it is insufficient for others as well as for him? But why, if others believe on the ground of that evidence, and if, according to his favorite theory, belief is the inevitable result of evidence? Is his belief, or theirs, the measure of truth? Does he not know that multitudes have passed through the same dreary shade of unbelief in which he is still involved, and have afterwards emerged into the clear light of faith, discovering what they now wonder they had overlooked before, and saying with heartfelt humility and gratitude, "One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see"?[267] But what has their belief, or his unbelief, to do with the great, the momentous fact? The truth, whatever it be, is independent of both: and it is the truth, and not our apprehensions of it, it is the evidence, and not our belief or doubt, that is the subject of inquiry. Will it be affirmed, then, either that the supposed existence of God is intrinsically incredible, and as such incapable of proof, or that the evidence is insufficient, in the sense of being illogical and inconclusive? This is the ultimate ground of atheistic unbelief, and here the Skeptical unites and blends with the Dogmatic form of Infidelity.

But when driven to this last resort, and before taking up the position which it is concerned to defend, Secularism puts forth certain preliminary pleas, partly in the way of self-defence, and partly with the view of exciting prejudice against the cause of Theism.[268] "I make no pretence," says Mr. Holyoake, "to account for everything. I do not pretend to account for what I find in Nature. I do not feel called upon to account for it. I do not know that I am required to account for it." ... "A man will come to me and say, Can you account for this? Can you account for that? Now he expects me to tell him all about everything, just as though I was present at the beginning of Nature, and knew all its manifestations. If I cannot do it, he will not admit my plea of ignorance;—he will not admit the propriety of my saying, I do not know." He is not bound to explain either the past or the future: "What went before and what will follow me I regard as two black impenetrable curtains, which hang down at the two extremities of human life, and which no living man has yet drawn aside.... A deep silence reigns behind this curtain; no one once within will answer those he has left without; all you can hear is a hollow echo of your question, as if you shouted into a chasm."[269] And can a mind that is capable of writing thus be content to discard Religion from his thoughts on the sorry pretext that he is not bound to account for the phenomena of Nature? One would expect at least a thoughtful, serious, and earnest spirit, even were it a spirit of doubt, in one surrounded with such solemn mysteries, gazing on these black impenetrable curtains, listening to the hollow echo from that awful chasm: nay, that seriousness might be expected to deepen into sadness, too intensely real to be soothed by the plea of ignorance, or assuaged otherwise than by the light of truth. But to say, "I do not pretend to account for what I find in Nature," what is this but to discard the whole question, to give it up as one insoluble, at least by him, and to leave to others the problems which have ever exercised the noblest and most gifted minds? Mr. Holyoake is not bound, indeed, to explain everything, and he mistakes if he supposes that any one expects this at his hand. There are many subjects on which even a man of science must ingenuously confess his ignorance, and many more so little connected with the interests and duties of life as to have only a very slight claim on his interest and attention. But Religion is not one of these: it is so closely related to the welfare and the duty of men, and has such a direct bearing on the conscience, that it demands and deserves the serious attention of all; and no one who undertakes to instruct his fellow-men, and especially when he attempts to overthrow their most sacred convictions, is entitled to turn round and say, "I do not pretend to account for what I find in Nature." He is bound to give some intelligible answer to the question, What is the cause of these marvellous phenomena which I behold? and what is the ground of that religious belief which has always prevailed in the world?

But Mr. Holyoake is deterred from any attempt to answer such questions by its amazing presumption: "The assumption is,—we may look through Nature up to Nature's God. That seems to me to imply a power, a capacity, an endowment, which repels me at the outset. If we are to deal with the common sense of probability, I say I am repelled by the amazing probability which is against me if I am to deal with the assumption of distinctness,—that I can look from Nature up to Nature's God. Why, in the presence of this shadowy form of things, before which all men stand in awe and dread, in the presence of so many mysteries and marvels which art is unable to unravel, which philosophy is unable to explain, it seems to me an immense endowment when a man can say with confidence, I look through Nature, and beyond Nature, up to Nature's God. I say the presumption of the thing does repel me."—"Let the profound sense of our own littleness, which here creeps in upon us, check the dogmatic spirit and arrest the presumptuous world; we stand in the great presence of Nature, whose inspiration should be that of modesty, humility, and love."—"When my friend talks so much about matter, ... his reasoning proceeds upon this very great hypothesis, namely, that he knows all that matter can do, and all that it cannot do. If he does not know that, I wonder by what right he says so plainly that the wonders he observes in Nature are not the work of Nature, but of some Being above Nature. That which repels me from that aspect of the argument is its amazing presumption, the amount of knowledge it implies."[270] Foster's argument against Dogmatic Atheism seems to have made some impression on Mr. Holyoake, since he makes the important admission that "the denial of a God implies infinite knowledge as the ground of disproof," but it is here retorted against Dogmatic Theism; and Unbelief, at other times so arrogant in its pretensions, so confident in the powers of reason, and so proud of the prerogatives of man, borrows the cloak of modesty from the wardrobe of true science, and assumes an attitude of deep humility. At other times Mr. Holyoake does not scruple to sit in judgment on what God,—supposing such a Being to exist,—could or could not do; on what He could or could not permit to be done;—He could not create a moral and responsible agent, and leave him to fall; He could not require or receive any satisfaction for sin; He could not hear or answer the prayers of his people; He could not inflict penal suffering, or allow it to be permanent. There is no presumption, it would seem, in determining what God could or could not do; but "when we stand in the great presence of Nature," her inspiration should be "that of modesty and humility." But presumption does not consist in looking at what we can see, or aiming to know what may be known; and it is a bastard humility, not the true modesty of science, which would turn away from the contemplation of any truth, however sublime, that is exhibited in the light of its appropriate evidence. We are not concerned to deny that it is "a great endowment" which enables men to discern in Nature a manifestation of God; it is a great endowment, but not too great for the mind of man, if he was made in "the image and likeness of God;" a small mirror may reflect the sun. Is it presumptuous in the mind of man to scale the heavens, and trace the planets in their course, and calculate their distances, their orbits, and their motions in the illimitable fields of space? And if the sublime truths of Astronomy are not interdicted to our faculties, simply because there is a natural evidence in the light of which they may be clearly discerned, why should it be presumptuous to look from Nature up to Nature's God, if in Nature we behold a mirror in which His perfections are displayed? If there be presumption on either side, does it not lie rather with those who virtually deny the power of God to make Himself known,—His power to create a world capable of exhibiting His perfections, and a mind adapted to that world capable of discerning the perfections which are therein displayed? There might be modesty, there might be humility in the ingenuous confession of ignorance, saying, "I do not know;" but there can be neither in the confidence which affirms that "no imaginable order would be sufficient" to prove the existence of God, for what is this but to say that "he knows all that matter can do, and all that it cannot do," or be made to do?

2. Secularism admits the existence of a self-existent and eternal Being, and thereby recognizes the fundamental law of Causality on which the Theistic proof depends, while it forces upon us the question whether these attributes should be ascribed to Nature or to God.

"I am driven," says Mr. Holyoake, "to the conclusion that the great aggregate of matter which we call 'nature' is eternal, because we are unable to conceive a state of things when nothing was. There must always have been something, or there could be nothing now. This the dullest feel. Hence we arrive at the idea of the eternity of matter. And in the eternity of matter we are assured of the self-existence of matter, and self-existence is the most majestic of attributes, and includes all others."[271] "If Natural Theologians were content to stop where they prove a superior something to exist, Atheists might be content to stop there too, and allow Theologians to dream in quiet over their barren foundling."[272] "If I supposed that the Christian meant no more than that something exists independently of Nature, that it may be boundless, that it may be limited, that it may be one, that it may be many beings, if I supposed nothing more than that was meant, then surely I would not occupy your time or my own in discussing a question so barren of practical consequences."—"If we reason about it, unless we take refuge in the idea of a creation which we cannot understand, we must come to the conclusion that Nature is self-existent, and that attribute is so majestic,—the power of being independent of any ruler,—the power of being independent of the law of other beings,—seems so majestic as fairly to be supposed to include all others; for that which has power to be has power to act, for the power to be is the most majestic of all forms of action."[273]

It is here admitted that there must be a self-existent, independent, and eternal Being, that self-existence is an attribute so majestic that it may be fairly said to include all others, that the Being to whom it belongs is exempt from the conditions of other beings, and that the power to act is involved in the power to be. It is assumed, indeed, that these attributes may belong to Nature, and that Nature is mere matter; but, reserving this point for the present, are we not warranted in saying that his doctrine, as stated by himself, involves the same profound mysteries, and is embarrassed by the same difficulties, which are often urged as objections to the theory of Religion, and that it is, at the very least, as incomprehensible, as the doctrine which affirms the existence of God? Suppose there were simply an equality in this respect between the Theistic and Atheistic hypothesis, that both were alike incomprehensible and incapable of an adequate explanation, still the former might be more credible and more satisfactory to reason than the latter, since in the one we have an intelligent and designing Cause, such as accounts for the existence of other minds and the manifold marks of design in Nature, whereas in the other all the phenomena of thought, and feeling, and volition, as well as all the instances of skilful adjustment and adaptation, must be resolved into the power of self-existent, but unintelligent and unconscious matter.

Further it is admitted, not only that we may, but that we must, proceed on the principle of Causality, the fundamental axiom of Theology; for "there must always have been something, or there could be nothing now." This principle or law of human thought leads him up to a region which far transcends his present sensible experience, and guides him to the stupendous height of self-existent and eternal Being. It is assumed and applied to prove the self-existence and eternity of matter. But if it be a valid principle of reason, its application may be equally legitimate when it is employed, in conjunction with the manifest evidence of moral as distinct from physical causation, to prove the self-existence and eternity of a supreme intelligent Cause. A principle such as this cannot, from its very nature, be limited within the range of our present sensible experience. We are told, indeed, that "if we look over the nature of our own impressions, we find we always shall begin with things which lie below reason, with things plainer than reason, with things which need no demonstration. Such is the nature of the human mind, that we all begin in this sphere of equal knowledge, we begin under the dominion of the senses, and whatever comes within that wants no demonstration, wants no proof, wants no logic; it is the constant, it is the most indubitable, it is the most indisputable of all our knowledge. And if the question of the being of a God came within that sphere, if it was found amongst those indisputable truths, if it was found to be a matter of sense, then there would be no occasion for us to reason at all about it: it could not be a matter of controversy, because it never would be a matter of dispute."[274] Certain first principles of reason are admitted, but only, it would seem, with reference to matters of sense; but why, if there be such a principle of reason as compels the Atheist himself to acknowledge a Self-existent and Eternal Being? Is this a matter of sense? Is it not a conclusion of reason,—founded, no doubt, on present sensible experience, but far transcending it,—and yet self-evident and irresistible as intuition itself? And if reason may thus rise from the contingent and variable to the conception and belief of the self-existent and eternal, why may it not be equally valid as a proof of a supreme, intelligent First Cause?

Speaking of Nature as self-existent and eternal, Mr. Holyoake ascribes such attributes to it as might seem to imply a leaning towards Pantheism, rather than the colder form of mere material Atheism. "It seems to me," he says, "that Nature and God are one; in other words, that the God whom we seek is the Nature whom we know." But he afterwards states, with clearness and precision, in what respects Secularism accords with, and differs from, Pantheism: "The term, God, seems to me inapplicable to Nature. In the mouth of the Theist, God signifies an entity, spiritual and percipient, distinct from matter. With Pantheists, the term God signifies the aggregate of Nature,—but Nature as a being, intelligent and conscious. It is my inability to subscribe to either of these views which constitutes me an Atheist. I cannot rank myself with the Theists, because I can conceive of nothing beyond Nature, distinct from it, and above it.... The Theist, therefore, I leave; but while I go with the Pantheist so far as to accept the fact of Nature in the plenitude of its diverse, illimitable, and transcendent manifestations, I cannot go further and predicate with the Pantheist the unity of its intelligence and consciousness!"[275] He holds, therefore, that self-existence is an attribute of Nature, that this attribute is so majestic that it may be fairly held to include all others, and that, while intelligence and consciousness exist, he cannot affirm their unity in Nature, or regard "Nature as a being, intelligent and conscious." Whence it follows that he can give no other account of the living, intelligent, active, and responsible beings which inhabit the world, than that they came into existence, he knows not how, and that they have the ultimate ground of their existence in a necessary, underived, and eternal being, which is neither intelligent nor self-conscious!

3. Secularism seeks to invalidate the proof from marks of design in Nature by attempting to show, either that it is merely analogical, and can, therefore, afford no certainty, or that, if it were certain, it could prove nothing, because, by an extension of the same principle, it must prove too much.

Such is the pith and substance of Mr. Holyoake's argument in his singular pamphlet entitled, "Paley refuted in his own Words." He first of all endeavors to invalidate the proof from design by assuming that it is a mere argument from analogy, and that at the best analogy can afford no ground of certainty, although it may possibly suggest a probable conjecture: "It may be said that analogy fails to find out God, and this must be admitted, it being no more than was to be expected. The God of Theology being infinite, it is no subject for analogy.... No conceivable analogy can prove a creation. Creation is without an analogy.... No analogy can prove creation, because no analogy can prove what it does not contain, namely, an example of creation."[276] "Analogy, the specious precursor of reason, would suggest the personality of the powers which awed and cheered man. Reason sends us to facts as the only positive grounds of positive conclusions; but in the childhood of intellect and experience, likelihood is mistaken for certainty, and probability for fact. In the disturbed reflection of man's image on the wall, as it were, of the universe, arose the idea of God." ... "I say, if that is all you mean by your argument, that it is merely a matter of analogy, if it is only a matter of partial resemblance, I say you can get from it no complete proof; that if you merely found it upon partial resemblance, there is no demonstration there whatever, and your cause is no better, no sounder than I have before described it,—as being merely your conjecture about a Being independent of Nature; it is merely a conjecture, merely a suggestion, just like my own conjecture, just like my own suggestion about Nature being that one great Being about which we are all concerned."[277]

But not content with assailing analogy as incapable of leading to any certain conclusion, he changes his tactics, and seems at least to do homage to it, while he insists only on its extension. "The argument of design," he says, "is unquestionably the most popular ever developed, and the most seductive ever displayed. It has the rare merit of making the existence of God, which is the most subtle of all problems, appear a mere truism,—and the proofs of such existence, which have puzzled the wisest of human heads, seem self-evident." This tribute, however, must be read in the light of his chosen motto,—"The existence of a watch proves the existence of a watch-maker; a picture indicates a painter; a house announces an architect. See here are arguments of terrible force for children."[278] "I took up," he says, "Dr. Paley's book, ... and I agreed with myself to admit, as I read, whatever appeared plausible. I did so, and my objection to my author was this: Upon the grounds of analogy and experience I found Paley insisted that design implies a designer, that this designer must be a person, and that this person is God: but the analogy which had been the guide to his feet, and the experience which had been a lamp to his path, were suddenly abandoned, and at the very moment when their assistance seemed to promise curious revelations."—"Two modes of refutation are open; to attack the principle, or pursue the analogy. Geoffroy St. Hilaire has taken one course. I take the other. If, in the investigation of this question, it be legitimate to employ analogy in one part, it must be legitimate to employ it in like respects in another.... Analogy was Paley's alpha, it must be made also his omega."[279] In pursuing this course, he makes large concessions, such as might seem at first sight to involve the very principles on which the Theistic proof depends. "That design implies a designer, I am disposed to allow; and that this designer must be a person, I am quite inclined to admit. Thus far goes Paley, and thus far I go with him.... His general position, that design proves a personal designer, is so natural, so easy, and so plausible, that it invites one to admit it, to see where it will lead, and what it will prove."—"Paley tells us that God is a person. He insists upon it as a legitimate inference from his premises, nor would it be easy to disturb his conclusion.... From Paley's premises, it is the clearest of all inferences. Design must have a designer, because whatever we know of designers has taught us that a designer is a person. All analogy is in favor of this inference. This is Paley's reasoning upon the subject, and it is too natural, too rigid, and too cogent to be escaped from."[280] Here we have an apparent admission of the principle on which the argument of design is based, but it is apparent only, and is afterwards withdrawn. It was used to serve a temporary purpose, and as soon as that purpose was served, it was thrown aside, although it had been described as "so natural, so easy, and so plausible, that it invites one to admit it," as "too natural, too rigid, and too cogent to be escaped from." "When I made the admission, I was going in the footsteps of Paley, and adopting his own phraseology: then I came to the conclusion to see whether it was right, and then I gave it up; when I found it led me to a contrary result, then I gave it up; what I supposed to be design in the opening of my argument is no longer design. My reverend friend is wrong in supposing that I admit design, and yet refuse to admit the force of the design argument."[281] And what is the reason which now induces him to deny the existence of design in Nature, and to withdraw all the admissions he had previously made? Why, simply because he conceives that, by a legitimate extension of the same analogy, the design argument may be pushed to a reductio ad absurdum, so as to prove first the existence of an organized person, "an animal God," and, secondly, an infinite series of such organized persons, since one such must necessarily presuppose another, and that again another, and so on in infinitum. For there are two stages in his extension of the analogy. In the first, it is extended so far as to show that the person to whom design is ascribed must necessarily be an organized Being: in the second, it is still further extended, so as to show that, being organized, that person must also have had a designer or maker, since organization is held to imply design, and design to imply a designer. And thus the analogy, when extended, does not lead up to one Supreme Mind, the Infinite and Eternal Creator of all things, but to an organized being, himself exhibiting marks of design in his organization, and requiring therefore, like every organism, a prior cause, and, by parity of reason, an eternal succession or infinite series of such causes.

The following extracts will place the progressive steps of his argument in a clear, if not convincing light: "By reasoning from analogy, Paley infers that there is a personal, intelligent being, the author of all design, whom he christens Deity. But what kind of a person is a Deity? If a person, is it organized like a person? Whence came it? How did it originate? Was it formed, as it is said to have formed us?... I ask, has the person of Deity an organization? because, if it be unreasonable to suppose design without a designer, it is surely as unreasonable to suppose a person without an organization, to the full contradiction of all analogy and all experience." ... "Every person is organized. No person was ever known without an organization. The term person implies it. All analogy, all experience are in favor of this truth. This is so plain as to be admitted almost before it is stated.... No person ever knew of consciousness separate from an organization in which it was produced. No man ever knew of thought distinct from an organization in which it was generated.... Shelley says that 'Intelligence is only known to us as a mode of animal being.' ... We have great authority,—the authority of universal and uncontradicted experience,—for limiting the properties of mind to organization.... If intelligence is without an organization, design may be without a designer; because there are the same experience and analogy to support the organization, as there are to support the design argument."[282]

But "organization proves contrivance.... If, then, every known organization is redolent with contrivance, and teems with marks of design, by what analogy can we conclude that Deity's organization is devoid of these properties?"—"Shelley thus states the case,—'From the fitness of the universe to its end, you infer the necessity of an intelligent Creator. But if the fitness of the universe to produce certain effects be thus conspicuous and evident, how much more exquisite fitness to this end must exist in the author of this universe!... how much more clearly must we perceive the necessity of this very Creator's creation, whose perfections comprehend an arrangement far more accurate and just! The belief of an infinity of creative and created gods, each more eminently requiring an intelligent author of his being than the foregoing, is a direct consequence of the premises.'"—"Hence from design, designers, and persons, we have stepped to organization and contrivance, and arrive at a contriver again."[283]

Such is the outline of his argument. He seems to think that if there be any flaw in it, the only assailable point must be his extension of the analogy: "In the chain of analogies which Paley commenced, and which I have continued, I believe there is no defective link. The principle of assailment, if any, is the extension of the analogies beyond the Paley point.... With the extension commences my responsibility. He who proves an irrelevancy in it answers my book." This is, no doubt, a vulnerable point, but we venture to think that it is not the only one. His whole reasoning seems to proceed on an unsound view of the nature and conditions of the argument, and is radically defective in at least three respects.

It is not correct to say that the argument of design, is a mere argument from analogy. Were it so, it might, like many another process of mere analogical reasoning, yield no more than a probable conclusion or a plausible conjecture. But in the case before us, the conclusion is strictly and properly an inductive inference. It may be suggested by the perception of analogy, but it is founded on the principle of causality. It is capable, therefore, of yielding, not a mere probability, but an absolute certainty. The fact that analogy is so far concerned in the process cannot weaken a conclusion which rests ultimately on a fundamental law of reason, the ground-principle of all induction. It is true, no doubt, that were we destitute of the conscious possession of intelligence, will, and design, we should be utterly incapable of forming these conceptions, or applying them to the interpretation of Nature; and in a loose sense, it may be said that we are guided by the analogy of our own experience to the belief in an intelligent First Cause; but mere analogy would not produce that belief without the great law of causality, which demands an adequate cause for every effect, nor is this law deprived of its necessary and absolute certainty merely because it comes into action along with, and is stimulated by, the perception of obvious analogies. Is it not equally true, that it is only by our own mental consciousness that we are qualified to conceive of other minds, and that we are, to a certain extent, guided by analogy to the belief that our fellow-men are possessed, like ourselves, of intelligence and design? But who would say that this conclusion is no more than a probable conjecture, or that, depending as it does in part on the analogy of our own experience, it cannot yield absolute certainty? In so far as it is merely analogical, it might be only more or less probable; but being founded also on the law of causality, it is an inductive inference, and, as such, one of the most certain convictions of the human mind.

And so the argument derived from marks of design in Nature may be stated in one or other of two ways:—it may be stated analogically or inductively. The difference between analogy and induction, which is not always duly considered, should be carefully marked. Analogy proceeds on partial, induction on perfect resemblance. The former marks a resemblance or agreement in some respects between things which differ in other respects: the latter requires a strict and entire similarity in those respects on which the inductive inference depends. The one by itself may only yield a probable conjecture, but the other, when combined with it, may produce a certain conviction. Accordingly the design argument may be thrown either into the analogical or the inductive form. Stated analogically, it stands thus: "There is an ascertained partial resemblance between organs seen in art and organs seen in nature; as, for instance, between the telescope and the eye.

"It is probable from analogy that there is in some further respect a partial resemblance between organs seen in art and organs seen in nature: in art the telescope has been produced by a contriver, analogy makes it probable that in nature the eye also will have been produced by a contriver."

But stated inductively, it stands thus: "If there be in nature the manifestation of supernatural contrivance, there must exist a supernatural contriver.

"There is in nature the manifestation of supernatural contrivance.

"Therefore a supernatural contriver,—God,—must exist."[284]

Combine the perfection of analogy with the principle of causality, and you have not only the verisimilitude or likelihood which prepares the way for belief, but also a positive proof resting on a fundamental law of reason. The inference of intelligence from marks of design in nature is not one of analogy, but of strict and proper induction; and accordingly we must either deny that there are marks of design in nature, thereby discarding the analogy, or do violence to our own reason by resisting the fundamental law of causality, thereby discarding the inductive inference. And of these two unavoidable alternatives, Mr. Holyoake seems to prefer the former: he will venture to deny the existence of design in nature, rather than admit the existence of design and resist the inevitable inference of a designing cause; for he is compelled in the long run to come round to this desperate confession, "What I supposed to be design in the opening of my argument is no longer design. My reverend friend is wrong in supposing that I admit design, and yet refuse to admit the force of the design argument."

But if he mistakes the general nature and conditions of the argument when he speaks of it as if it were a mere argument from analogy, his extension of the analogy, and the reasonings founded on it, are equally unjustifiable and inconclusive. He forgets that analogy proceeds on a partial resemblance in some respects, between things which differ in other respects, and that even induction itself requires a perfect resemblance only in those respects on which the inference depends. There may be such a resemblance between the marks of design in nature and in art as to warrant the inference of a contriver in both; and yet in other respects there may be a dissimilarity which cannot in the least affect the validity or the certainty of that inference. It is only when we extend the analogy beyond the inductive point, that the conclusion becomes, in some cases, merely probable, in others altogether doubtful. If we advance a step further than we are warranted to go by obvious and certain analogies, our conclusions must be purely conjectural, and cannot be accepted as inductive inferences. From what we know of this world, and of God's design in it to make Himself known to His intelligent creatures, we may infer, with some measure of probability, that other worlds may also be inhabited by beings capable, like ourselves, of admiring His works, and adoring His infinite perfections; but if we go further, and infer either that all these worlds must now be inhabited, or that the inhabitants must be in all respects constituted as we are, we pass far beyond the point to which our knowledge extends, and enter on the region of mere conjecture. And so when Mr. Holyoake extends the analogy, so as to include not only the marks of design, on which the inductive inference rests, but also the forms of organization, with which in the case of man, intelligence is at presented associated, although not identified, he goes beyond the point at which analogy and induction combine to give a certain conclusion, and introduces a conjectural element, which may well render his own inferences extremely doubtful, but which can have no effect in weakening the grounds of our confidence in the fundamental law, which demands an adequate cause for the marks of design in nature.

Mr. Ferrier has shown that "the senses are only contingent conditions of knowledge; in other words, it is possible that intelligences different from the human (supposing that there are such) should apprehend things under other laws, or in other ways, than those of seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, and smelling; or more shortly, our senses are not laws of cognition or modes of apprehension which are binding on intelligence necessarily and universally."—"A contingent law of knowledge" is defined as "one which, although complied with in certain cases in the attainment of knowledge, is not enforced by reason as a condition which must be complied with wherever knowledge is to take place. Knowledge is thus possible under other conditions than the contingent laws to which certain intelligences may be subject; in other words, there is no contradiction in affirming that an intelligent being may have knowledge of some kind or other without having such senses as we have."[285]

The application of analogy as a principle of judgment is subject to certain well-known limitations, which cannot be disregarded without serious risk of error. They are well stated by Dr. Hampden: "There are two requisites in order to every analogical argument:—1. That the two, or several particulars concerned in the argument should be known to agree in some one point; for otherwise they could not be referable to any one class, and there would consequently be no basis to the subsequent inference drawn in the conclusion. 2. That the conclusion must be modified by a reference to the circumstances of the particular to which we argue. For herein consists the essential distinction between an analogical and an inductive argument. Since, in an inductive argument, we draw a general conclusion, we have no concern with the circumstantial peculiarity of individual instances, but simply with their abstract agreement. Whereas, on the contrary, in an analogical argument, we draw a particular conclusion, we must enter into a consideration of the circumstantial peculiarity of the individual instance, in order to exhibit the conclusion in that particular form which we would infer. Whence it follows, that whilst by induction we obtain absolute conclusions, by analogy we can only arrive at relative conclusions, or such as depend for their absolute and entire validity on the coincidence of all the circumstances of the particular inferred with those of the particular from which the inference is drawn." Again: "The circumstances to which we reason may be considered of threefold character. They are either known or unknown. If they are known, they are either (1.) Such as we have no reason to think different, in any respect from those under which our observations have been made; or (2.) Such as differ in certain known respects from these last. (3.) They are unknown, where we reason concerning truths of which, from the state of our present knowledge, from the nature of our faculties, or from the accident of our situation as sojourners upon earth, we are totally ignorant."[286]

With these necessary limitations, suggested by the different circumstances in which analogy is applied, we shall have little difficulty in disposing of Mr. Holyoake's extension of Dr. Paley's argument. Not content with resemblance in some respects, he requires a sameness in all. He would exclude all dissimilarity, forgetting that analogy denotes a certain relation between two or more things which in other respects may be entirely different. We may see a resemblance between the marks of design in nature and the ordinary effects of design in art; and that perception of design gives rise to an intuitive conviction or inductive inference of a designing cause: thus far we proceed under the guidance of analogy, but on the sure ground of induction. If we go beyond this, and insist that the designing cause must be in all respects like ourselves, that if we be organized, He must be organized, that if we act by material organs He must act by the same, we exceed the limits of legitimate reasoning, and enter on the region of pure conjecture. But such conjectures, groundless as they are, and revolting as every one must feel them to be, can have no effect in shaking our confidence in the valid induction by which we infer from marks of design in nature the existence of a designing Cause.

It can scarcely be necessary to enlarge on the gratuitous assumptions on which this extension of the argument is made to rest;—such as that "every person is organized," that "all power is a mere attribute of matter," that "no man ever knew of thought distinct from an organization in which it was generated." The only fragment of truth that can be detected in these assumptions is the fact that we have, in our present state, no experience of intelligence apart from the organization with which it is here associated: but will this warrant the inference that intelligence cannot exist apart from organization, or that the one is the mere product of the other? It may be a good and valid inference from the marks of design in nature, that a designing cause must exist; for this inference, although suggested by analogy, is founded on induction, which requires a perfect resemblance only in those respects on which the inference depends. But to go beyond this, and to insist that the designing cause must be organized, because we have no experience of intelligence apart from organization, is to make our experience the measure of possible being, and to exclude, surely on very insufficient grounds, all notion of purely spiritual personality. In "extending the analogy beyond the Paley point," Mr. Holyoake is arguing from the particular case of man to another case, which resembles it in some respects, but may differ from it in others; and similar as they are in the one point of living, designing intelligence, they may, for aught he knows, differ in many other respects. And this we hold to be a sufficient answer to his argument, especially when it is combined with the consideration that the assumptions on which that argument is based are purely gratuitous, namely, that "every person is organized," and that there is no "thought distinct from an organization in which it is generated." By these assumptions, his theory connects itself with the grossest Materialism; and that subject has been sufficiently discussed in a separate chapter.

But in truth we regard the whole discussion on organization as a huge and unnecessary excrescence on his argument, for he would have come to his point quite as effectually, and much more directly, had he said nothing at all about an organized being, and insisted merely on one, whether material or spiritual, possessing powers of intelligence, contrivance, and design; for it is evidently on the existence of such a being, and not on the arrangements or adaptations of his organic parts, that his main argument depends, namely, that such a being implies also a contriver, and that again another, and so on in an endless series. Whatever force belongs to his argument lies here: it consists, not in the evidence of design arising from material organization, but in the necessity of a cause adequate to account for a being possessing intelligence, purpose, and will. The existence of an endless series of such beings is impossible, and the supposition of it is absurd; and Mr. Holyoake himself admits a self-existent, underived, and eternal Being,—a being exempt, therefore, from all the conditions of time and causality to which others are subject,—while he ascribes the origin of intelligent, self-conscious beings to Nature, which is "neither intelligent nor self-conscious," rather than to God, the father of spirits, Himself a Spirit, infinite, omniscient, and almighty. He ascribes the existence of intelligent, self-conscious, personal moral agents to a power called Nature, which he cannot venture to call "a person," nor even "an animal being," and of which he "cannot predicate with the Pantheist the unity of its intelligence and consciousness." His theory, in so far as it is intelligible, seems to have a stronger affinity with Pantheism than he appears to suppose. Were he to define the meaning of the word Nature,—a word so often used in a vague, indefinite sense,[287]—he would find that his idea bears a close resemblance to that of the German school,[288] who speak of the first being as the Indifference of the different,—a certain vague, undetermined, inexplicable entity, possessing no distinctive character or peculiar attributes, whose existence is necessary, but not as a living, self-conscious, and active being, while it is the cause of all life and intelligence and activity in the universe; in short, a mere abstraction of the human mind. To some such cause, if it can be called a cause, Mr. Holyoake ascribes all the phenomena of the universe; or he leaves them utterly unaccounted for, and takes refuge in an eternal series of derived and dependent beings, without attempting to assign any reason for their existence. He undertakes to account for nothing. He leaves the great problem unsolved, and discards it as insoluble. "Mr. Harrison demanded of me, where the first man came from? I said, I did not know; I was not in the secrets of Nature." "I cannot accept, says one, the theory of progressive development, it is so intricate and unsatisfying." "If something must be self-existent and eternal, says another, why may not matter and all its properties be that something?" "The Atheist holds that the universe is an endless series of causes and effects ad infinitum, and therefore the idea of a first cause is an absurdity and a contradiction."[289] In short, the eternity of the world is assumed, the origin of new races is left unexplained, and no account whatever is given of the order which everywhere exists in Nature. In the last resort, he takes refuge in the plea of ignorance. His only answer is, "I do not know, I am not in the secrets of Nature."

But how does his extension of Paley's argument justify the position which he now assumes? Or how can it invalidate the admissions which he had previously made? That extension of the argument, even were it supposed to be legitimate, amounts simply to this, that a designer must be an organized being, and, as such, must have had a cause. But what analogy suggests, or what law of reason requires, an infinite series of such causes? And what is there in this extension of the argument that should exclude the idea of a First Cause? It is thought, indeed, that by connecting intelligence with organization, we may succeed at least in excluding His infinity, His omnipresence, and other attributes which are ascribed to the Most High: but the main stress of the argument