Old-Fashioned Ethics and Common-Sense Metaphysics Part 8

[49] 'Auguste Comte and Positivism,' pp. 133-4.

CHAPTER VI.

_LIMITS OF DEMONSTRABLE THEISM._

Thought without Reverence is barren. The man who cannot wonder, who does not habitually wonder (and worship), were he president of innumerable Royal Societies, and carried the whole _Mecanique Celeste_ and Hegel's _Philosophy_, and the epitome of all laboratories and observatories with their results, in his single head, is but a pair of spectacles, behind which there is no eye.

Let those who have eyes look through him; then he may be useful.--_Sartor Resartus._

'I wouldn't mind,' said once a representative of extreme heterodoxy, in debate with a champion of its diametrical opposite--'I wouldn't mind conceding the Deity you contend for, were it not for the use commonly made of him after he is conceded.' And no doubt that use is such as might well provoke a saint, provided the saint were likewise a philosopher. To whatever extent it be true that man was created in the image of G.o.d, it is certain that in all ages and countries G.o.d has been created in the image of man, invested with all human propensities, appet.i.tes, and pa.s.sions, and expected to demean himself on all occasions as men would do in like circ.u.mstances. As popularly conceived, so long as sensual gratification was esteemed to be the _summum bonum_, he wallowed in all manner of sensual l.u.s.t; when some of his more fervent worshippers turned ascetics out of disgust with fleshly surfeit, he became ascetism personified: at every stage his great delight has been flattery, and his still greater, revenge; in the exercise of power he has always been capricious and often wanton--ruthlessly vindictive against impugners of his honour and dignity, unspeakably barbarous to unbelievers in his reality. Now, as knowledge advanced, unbelief in a G.o.d so much below the level of ordinarily virtuous men advanced equally, quickening its pace, too, as the particular branch of knowledge styled 'physics' spread, and, spreading, exposed the utter impossibility of many of the fables in which theological views had been expressed.

Wherefore, theological oracles have in every age and country been apt to confound scientific inquisitiveness with unbelief, and to denounce _physical_ science especially as a delusion and a snare, and its cultivators as impostors none the less mischievous for being at the same time dupes. Of course, the latter have not been slow to return the compliment. Hearing the truths discovered by them stigmatised as falsehoods, they naturally enough retorted the charge of falsity against the divine authorities in whose name it was made. Finding war waged against them by every religion with which they were acquainted, they naturally enough in turn declared war against all religion, even with that form thereof which underlies every other except when sufficing to itself for superstructure as well as base. Natural enough this, for _humanum est errare_; but very humanly erroneous withal, for to include Deity itself in the same denial with pseudo-divine attributes is about as sagacious a proceeding as to refuse to recognise the sun at midday on account of his not appearing in Phoebus's chariot and four.

When religion on the defensive declares herself opposed to reason, so much the worse for religion. She is thereby virtually surrendering at discretion, since to appeal to her only other resource--revelation--is to beg the whole subject in dispute. Similarly, the worse and still less excusable is it for science to declare herself irreconcileable with religion, for she, too, is thereby slighting reason. It is only by forsaking the single guide in whom she professes to trust, and blindly giving herself up to angry prejudice, that she can fail to discover the rational solidity of so much of every religion as consists of theism.

For this, as we have seen, the argument from design abundantly suffices, although the only absolute certainty thence deducible be that the universe must have an author or authors fully equal to its original construction, its subsequent development, and its continued maintenance.

Even if it be not inconceivable, notwithstanding that the chances to the contrary be many times infinity to one, that the mere restlessness of some utterly unintelligent force may have fabricated all material structures, and imparted to all their movements certain orderly successions, it is still manifestly impossible for unintelligence to have brought forth intelligence--for the speculative, critical, carping spirit of man to have been generated by that which has no speculation in its eyes, nor any eyes, to have speculation in; impossible, in short, for the creature to be more richly endowed than its creator. Since numerous embodied intelligences actually exist, they must have been preceded by intelligence capable of creating them and all other existing intelligences that have not eternally existed; and it is simply impossible that creative intelligence, whose creatures owe to it whatever intelligence they possess, should on any occasion have exhibited a want of intelligence which they are competent to detect.

But although it be thus demonstrably certain that an author of the universe exists, it does not follow that there is only one. As to this no proof positive, only probabilities, can be adduced; but the probabilities are of an amount all but equivalent to certainty. They are forcibly urged by Mr. Mill. Many exactly uniform occurrences, he observes, are more naturally referred to 'a single, than to a number of wills precisely accordant.' But the cla.s.ses of uniform occurrences being exceedingly numerous, if there were a separate will for each cla.s.s, there would be equally numerous wills, and 'unless all these wills were in complete harmony (which would itself be the most difficult to credit of all cases of invariability, and would require beyond anything else the ascendancy of a supreme Deity),' it would be 'impossible that the course of phenomena under their government should be invariable.' Every fresh appearance of resemblance extending through all nature 'affords fresh presumption that the whole is the work, not of many, but of the same hand, and renders it vastly more probable that there should be one indefinitely foreseeing Intelligence and immoveable Will than that there should be hundreds and thousands of such.'[50] I will not run the risk of weakening this reasoning by expansion. Its obvious inference that, there being a G.o.d, there cannot be more than one, could not be set forth more irresistibly.

That the wisdom of the Creator cannot be less than the amount thereof manifested in His works is a self-evident proposition, which none will be hardy enough directly to dispute. There is, however, one critic, of great ability and yet greater daring, who appears to doubt whether the wisdom manifested in the universe is anything to speak of. Mr. Lewes'

faculty of veneration is, I suspect, but imperfectly developed, since 'the succession of phases which each (animal) embryo is forced to pa.s.s through,' is sufficient to give its action pause. 'None of these phases,' he remarks, 'have any adaptation to the future state of the animal, but are in positive contradiction to it, or are simply purposeless; _many_ of them have no adaptation even to its embryonic state; whereas _all_ show stamped on them the unmistakable characters of _ancestral_ adaptations and the progressions of organic evolution.'

'What,' he asks, 'does this fact imply?' 'There is not,' he continues, 'a single known example of an organism which is not developed out of simpler forms. Before it can attain the complex structure which distinguishes it, there must be an evolution of forms which distinguish the structures of organisms lower in the series.... On the hypothesis of a plan that pre-arranged the organic world' (by no means, however, necessarily in types that could not change, but rather in types adapted and calculated to change), 'nothing,' he considers, 'could be more unworthy of a supreme intelligence than this _inability_ to construct an organism at once without making several _tentative_ efforts, undoing to-day what was so carefully done yesterday, and repeating for centuries the same _tentatives_ and the same _corrections_ in the same succession.' 'Anthropomorphists,' he says, 'talk of "The Great Architect," emphasising the name with capitals,' but 'what should we say to an architect who was unable, or, being able, was obstinately unwilling, to erect a palace except by first using his materials in the shape of a hut, then pulling it down and rebuilding them as a cottage, then adding storey to storey and room to room, not with any reference to the ultimate purposes of the palace, but wholly with reference to the way in which houses were constructed in ancient times? What should we say to the architect who could not form a museum out of bricks and mortar, but was forced to begin as if going to build a mansion, and, after proceeding some way in this direction, altered his plan into a palace, and that again into a museum? Would there be a chorus of applause from the Inst.i.tute of Architects, and favourable notices in the newspapers of this profound wisdom?'[51]

Notwithstanding the exulting tone in which these questions are put, and which seems to imply that in their proposer's opinion they are unanswerable, they may, I think, be very summarily disposed of. Whatever other comments might be made on the conduct of an architect who should build in the complex manner suggested, surely the very last thing said would be that he did not know how to build in simpler wise. His having actually built a palace would be decisive proof of his knowing how to build a palace; and of all queer reasons for questioning his possession of that much architectural knowledge, about the queerest would be the fact of his having built, not a palace only, but a hut and cottage in addition. And if, adopting a still more complicated style, he should begin by so constructing a hut that, if left to itself, it would draw up brick and mortar from the earth, and grow into a cottage, and then go on growing and adding storey to storey till it became a palace, this surely would be a proof not of less, but of infinitely more, architectural knowledge than if he had commenced and completed the palace with his own hands. Not unwarrantably, perhaps, may Mr. Lewes, reflecting that his own and every other human organism's genesis has consisted of at least three stages, oval, foetal, and infantine, wonder why he was not formed all at once, 'as Eve was mythically affirmed to be taken from Adam's rib, and Minerva from Jupiter's head,' and why he was not brought forth full dressed in an indefinitely expansible suit of clothes. Not quite inexcusably, perhaps, might he conceive the reason to be some mere whim or humour of his Maker, though there might be more grat.i.tude in conjecturing that the triple process was adopted for the purpose of a.s.sisting biological enquirers like himself in their special researches.

From so practised a logician, however, about the very last thing to have been here expected was that he should suggest creative 'ignorance and incompetence' as the only apparent alternative to denying a Creator altogether, as if incapacity for a comparatively easy process were a likely reason for choosing one greatly more difficult. It might have occurred to Mr. Lewes that, if there were any absurdity in the choice, the Being who made him and bestowed on him the faculty of perceiving the absurdity, could not have failed himself likewise to perceive it and consequently to avoid it.

Of divine power, the measure or measurelessness is obviously identical with that of divine wisdom. Both attributes must be at least co-extensive with the universe; both consequently illimitable. Divine goodness, moreover, inasmuch as the creature's moral ideal cannot be superior to his Creator's, must be at least as vast as human imagination: G.o.d must be at least as good as man can conceive Him. But how, by goodness so transcending, conjoined with immeasurable might, can the co-existence of evil be tolerated? To this last, and perhaps greatest, among the many great questions brought forward for renewed discussion in these pages, I have long had by me an attempt at a reply, which, finding myself unable either to strengthen or shorten it by turning it into prose, I venture to submit in its original rhythmical form.

A Voice came to me as I sate apart, Pondering the burthen of life's mystery, In dim perplexity, with troubled heart.

With whisper weak and faint it came to me, Like feeble glimmer of the struggling moon To wildered mariner on midnight sea: With whisper weak at first, but strengthening soon, Like the moon's beam when filmy clouds disperse, And through my scattered doubts, with quiet tune, Uttering in clear, apocalyptic verse, Truth, which for comfort and monition sent, E'en as the voice revealed, do I rehea.r.s.e.

'What art thou? Whence derived? With what intent Placed where perpetual hindrances exhaust Thy wasted strength, in baffled effort spent?

Where in blind maze, with crafty windings crossed, With stumbling-blocks beset, with pitfalls strewed, Thou wanderest, in endless error lost; Athirst beside glad rivers that elude, With mocking lapse, thy tantalized pursuit, And hungering where gilded husks delude With bitter ashes as of Dead Sea fruit, Ashes of Hope, but seed of Discontent, That rears its upas growth from blighted root?

Around, thou hear'st Creation eloquent, Hymning creative attributes, and seest The starry marvels of the firmament, And marvels of the nearer earth, released By impulse from within, not dimly shown, Nor plainlier in the greatest than the least: And, through the known discovering the unknown, Acknowledgest thy Maker, power supreme, Might, and dominion, deeming His alone.

Nor His the lax dominion mayst thou deem That builds up empire, and when built, neglects.

Lo! where, afar, sidereal orbits gleam, What first impelled, impelling still, directs: Urges and guides each solar chariot, The mundane ma.s.s of every globe connects, By its own energy cohering not, E'en as dead leaves, decaying languidly, Not from themselves derive the force to rot.

'All-strengthening, all-sustaining Deity, Diffused throughout the infinite, abides, Dwells and upholds:--then, haply, dwells in thee?

Yea, verily. Within thy frame resides What, by its movement only mayst thou know.

The circling blood, thy being's ambient tides, Is't thine own will that bids them ebb and flow, And from their inundating flood depose Organic germs, whence health and vigour grow?

Yet though such witness serve thee to disclose In human tenement divine abode, Not thine be the material creed that shows The spirit's birthplace in the moulded clod; Not thine the pantheist raving, that because G.o.d dwelleth with thee, thou thyself art G.o.d.

Bethink thee--is't self-reverence that o'erawes Thy prostrate soul, and from thy faltering tongue, Subdued, involuntary homage draws?

And when by harrowing pang thine heart is wrung, Is't for self-aid thy wandering eyes inquire, Heavenward, at length, in fervid suppliance flung?

And from thy native slough of sensual mire, Is't to the mark of thine own purity Thy loftier aims and holier hopes aspire?

Harshly thy fleshly fetters bear on thee, In dark and dreary prison-house confined, Cramped and diseased with long captivity, And hath divine Intelligence designed That noisome dungeon for her own restraint-- By her own act to galling bonds consigned,-- Self-doomed, with wilful purpose, to acquaint Herself with sin and sorrow, and pollute aethereal essence with corporeal taint?

How doth thy helpless misery confute That frantic boast of vain conceit, untaugh The paltriest of its plans to execute!

Hast thou the art to add, by taking thought, One cubit to thy stature? and hast thou, Or such as thou, Nature's whole fabric wrought?

Not thine such vaunt--not thine to disavow The l.u.s.tre of thy genuine origin.

To the Most Highest, as thine author, bow With rapture of exulting faith, wherein Devotion's cravings their desire achieve, The bright ideal that they imaged, win.

Rejoice that thus 'tis given thee to believe,-- To recognise transcending majesty, Worthy all praise--all honour to receive: Rejoice in that high presence, gratefully Offering the vows that thy full heart dilate: Rejoice that thence there floweth light, whereby Thy emulative quest to elevate Thitherward, where unblemished holiness Irradiates sovereignty, benign as great.

'But here thou pausest, scrupling to confess A providence of aspect all benign.

Fear not that sceptic scruple to express.

Of truth, Almighty Goodness could a.s.sign Good only to the work of His own hand, Warmed into life by His own breath divine: And, where unchecked Beneficence had planned A home for creatures of a fragile race, Evoked from nothingness at His command, Nor care, nor want, nor anguish should have place, Nor fraud betray, nor violence oppress, Nor hate inflame, nor wallowing l.u.s.t debase, Nor aught be found, save what conspired to bless The sentient clay, wrought surely for that end,-- For wherefore wrought, if not for happiness?

'Not, as some teach, for mastery to contend With fate,--in doubtful conflict to engage,-- Struggling, in pain and peril, to ascend Slowly, through this probationary stage, Sore let, but tried and chastened, and thereby Earning on earth a heavenly heritage.

Was there then need that prescience should try, By ordeal pitiless, a.s.sured event, Disclosed beforehand to prophetic eye?

Need was there, by austere experiment, To test the frailty and the fall foreknown Of man, beneath o'erwhelming burthen bent?

In this was tutelar prevision shown?

Hardly may he, in such belief confide, Who sees his fellow myriads left to groan In barren penance, without light or guide, E'en from their birth by fostering vice controlled, Doomed as they cross life's threshold--doomed untried.

'As hardly, too, may he the dogma hold That fetters reason with a graduate chain Of beings, linked in order manifold, Where, to each link, 'tis given to sustain A part subservient to the general weal,-- Duly to share the mutual burthen's strain:-- Though who from such allotment would appeal, Could it be truth that wisdom's masterpiece Such aid could lack, such feebleness conceal, Suing its own const.i.tuents for release From wrong innate, throughout its texture wove, By hard necessity, not light caprice?

But to what purport could premonished Love A system twined with mutual suffering weave, When but a word all suffering would remove?

And wherefore yet delayeth the reprieve Of Love, that doth not willingly afflict Its children, neither wantonly aggrieve?

Can aught the gracious purpose interdict Of Him, whose piercing eye, whose boundless sway, No cloud can dim, no barrier restrict?

Say'st thou, "By path inscrutable, and way Past finding out, perchance, may mercy bend To its own use, whate'er its course would stay, And through the labouring world high mandate send That all things work together unto good, Work, though by means corrupt, to righteous end?"

Beware how such conjectures must conclude.

Can means impure Omnipotence befit, And clog the range of its solicitude?

Can finite bonds confine the Infinite?

Though man, by choice of ill, must needs offend, Need G.o.d do ill that good may come of it?

Must havoc's mad typhoon perforce descend?

May naught else serve to fan the stagnant air?

Must captive flame earth's quaking surface rend, Or seek escape in lava flood? and ere Effete society new structure raise, Must dearth or pestilence the ground prepare?

Thus is it that a parent's care purveys His bounty, and, exacting rigorously The price in tears, each boon's full cost defrays?

Thus, with vain thrift withholding the decree, That from his treasury's exhaustless store To all could grant unbought felicity?

'But haply still 'tis reasoned (and with more Of reason's semblance were the plea maintained), That higher yet would life's ambition soar, Not for mere scheme of happiness ordained, But for advance in virtue,--for the growth By patient zeal and meek endurance gained: That, at the table of voluptuous sloth, Though banqueted on sweets without alloy, Unsated were a generous nature, loth To feast where unearned lusciousness would cloy, Faint with the tedium of unbroken rest, Sick with the sameness of unruffled joy: That for more poignant pleasure, and of zest Heightened and edged by healthful exercise,-- For scope wherein her conscious strength to test In keen pursuit and venturous enterprise, For dear exemplars, in whose course serene Affection's tearful warmth might sympathise, For these the yearning mind would languish, e'en Though with all else that wish could name endued, While, in her striving for self-discipline, Foiled, and with fervid impulses imbued Vainly, where neither aught could valour dare Nor aught confront and challenge fort.i.tude: And where no outward token could declare The hidden worth congenial heart would hail, Hail with each kindred chord vibrating there;d Since virtue wakes not but when griefs a.s.sail, Or travail burthens, or temptations try, Slumbering supine, till roused by adverse gale, In the deep sleep of moral lethargy, Joy's fullest cup, by hope or doubt unstirred, Curdling the while to dull satiety.

'Thus haply some have reasoned, undeterred By reasoning, with equal emphasis But counter aim, as readily preferred: Since Heaven's perfection striveth not, nor is In peril lest it lapse to apathy, Or la.s.situde invade its tranquil bliss.

And were it as they deem, and righteously Were man adjudged with his brow's sweat to eat Bread leavened with embittering misery, E'en then affliction's measure to complete, Amply might pain, and want, and death suffice, And feeling's blight, and baffled love's defeat, And, on the altar of self-sacrifice, Hope's withered blooms by resignation laid: Nor were it needed that incarnate vice, In human mould, in the same image made, Trampled with iron hoof his fellow man, Virtue's chastised development to aid.

For whence was Vice derived? Ere life began, For His own offspring could their Maker trace Their loathsome office, and beneath his ban Place them, accurst (creating to debase), And doom as fuel for the flames that test A favoured few, elect by partial grace?

Elect or outcast--if alike confessed Of the same parent, sons--brethren who bear No differing lineaments, save those imprest By his prevision--in their parent's care Should not all be partakers? Should not all Freely, alike, his nurturing guidance share?

Are any worthier? 'Tis that warning's call Extends to them alone--'tis that to them Alone is given vigour, wherewithal Temptation's fraudful violence to stem-- And how shall He, who needful strength denies, Weakness for its predestined fall condemn?

How, when the creature of His wrath replies With feeble wail and inarticulate moan, The sighing of that contrite heart despise?

What man amongst thy fellows hast thou known Who, if his son ask fish, will jeeringly Give him a serpent, or for bread a stone?

If ye, being evil, at your children's cry Know how to give good gifts, should not much more Your heavenly Father His good things supply To them who ask Him? Should He not restore A cleansed heart within them, and renew An upright spirit? not, what they implore Reversing, and restraining, lest they do The good they would,--constraining them withal To do the evil they would fain eschew?

How wilt thou to the same original Whence all just thoughts and pure desires proceed, Impute corrupt imaginings, whose thrall Enslaves anew the soul but newly freed From their pollution? Can a hybrid growth Arise spontaneous from unmingled seed?

Are grapes upon the bramble borne, or doth The fig bear olive berries? Canst thou show Twin waters, sweet and bitter, issuing both From the same fountain? Neither should there flow Blessing and cursing from one mouth, nor yet From the same Providence both weal and woe.

'Vile as thou art, ofttimes in thee have met Mercy and Truth--and Peace and Righteousness Have kissed each other; and thine heart is set Ofttimes to follow what is just, redress Where thou hast trespa.s.sed, rendering; ofttimes, too, Forgiving other's trespa.s.s: to distress Thou grudgest not its sympathetic due Of kindly deed, or word, or mutual tears, Nor in vain wholly labourest to subdue The hydra host whose foul miasm blears Thy vision, and the distant gleam obscures That dimly through thy prison cas.e.m.e.nt peers.

E'en to the darkened dungeon that immures Thy soul, some feeble glimmer finds its way.

Crushed beneath earthly durance, still endures Some lingering fire below that weight of clay, Some generous zeal, some honest hardihood, Some faith--some charity.--And whence are they?