diminished in proportion as the vividness with which it is realized becomes less. Evils and benefits akin to those which the savage has personally felt, or learned from those who have felt them, are the only evils and benefits he can understand; and these must be looked for as coming in ways, like those of which he has had experience. His deities must be imagined to have like motives and passions and methods with the beings around him; for motives and passions and methods of a higher character, being unknown to him, and in great measure unthinkable by him, cannot be so realized in thought as to influence his deeds. During every phase of civilization, the actions of the Unseen Reality, as well as the resulting rewards and punishments, being conceivable only in such forms as experience furnishes, to supplant them by higher ones before wider experiences have made higher ones conceivable, is to set up vague and uninfluential motives for definite and influential ones. Even now, for the great mass of men, unable through lack of culture to trace out with due clearness those good and bad consequences which conduct brings round through the established order of the Unknowable, it is needful that there should be vividly depicted future torments and future joys—pains and pleasures of a definite kind, produced in a manner direct and simple enough to be clearly imagined. Nay still more must be conceded. Few if any are as yet fitted wholly to dispense with such conceptions as are current. The highest abstractions take so great a mental power to realize with any vividness, and are so inoperative upon conduct unless they are vividly realized, that their regulative effects must for a long period to come be appreciable on but a small minority. To see clearly how a right or wrong act generates consequences, internal and external, that go on branching out more widely as years progress, requires a rare power of analysis. To mentally represent even a single series of these consequences, as it stretches out into the remote future, requires an equally rare power of imagination. And to estimate these consequences in their totality, ever multiplying in number while diminishing in intensity, requires a grasp of thought possessed by none. Yet it is only by such analysis, such imagination, and such grasp, that conduct can be rightly guided in the absence of all other control: only so can ultimate rewards and penalties be made to outweigh proximate pains and pleasures. Indeed, were it not that throughout the progress of the race, men’s experiences of the effects of conduct have been slowly generalized into principles—were it not that these principles have been from generation to generation insisted on by parents, upheld by public opinion, sanctified by religion, and enforced by threats of eternal damnation for disobedience—were it not that under these potent influences, habits have been modified, and the feelings proper to them made innate—were it not, in short, that we have been rendered in a considerable degree organically moral; it is certain that disastrous results would ensue from the removal of those strong and distinct motives which the current belief supplies. Even as it is, those who relinquish the faith in which they have been brought up, for this most abstract faith in which Science and Religion unite, may not uncommonly fail to act up to their convictions. Left to their organic morality, enforced only by general reasonings imperfectly wrought out and difficult to keep before the mind, their defects of nature will often come out more strongly than they would have done under their previous creed. The substituted creed can become adequately operative only when it becomes, like the present one, an element in early education, and has the support of a strong social sanction. Nor will men be quite ready for it until, through the continuance of a discipline which has already partially moulded them to the conditions of social existence, they are completely moulded to those conditions.
We must therefore recognize the resistance to a change of theological opinion, as in great measure salutary. It is not simply that strong and deep-rooted feelings are necessarily excited to antagonism—it is not simply that the highest moral sentiments join in the condemnation of a change which seems to undermine their authority; but it is that a real adaptation exists between an established belief and the natures of those who defend it; and that the tenacity of the defence measures the completeness of the adaptation. Forms of religion, like forms of government, must be fit for those who live under them; and in the one case as in the other, that form which is fittest is that for which there is an instinctive preference. As certainly as a barbarous race needs a harsh terrestrial rule, and habitually shows attachment to a despotism capable of the necessary rigour; so certainly does such a race need a belief in a celestial rule that is similarly harsh, and habitually shows attachment to such a belief. And just in the same way that the sudden substitution of free institutions for tyrannical ones, is sure to be followed by a reaction; so, if a creed full of dreadful ideal penalties is all at once replaced by one presenting ideal penalties that are comparatively gentle, there will inevitably be a return to some modification of the old belief. The parallelism holds yet further. During those early stages in which there is an extreme incongruity between the relatively best and the absolutely best, both political and religious changes, when at rare intervals they occur, are necessarily violent; and necessarily entail violent retrogressions. But as the incongruity between that which is and that which should be, diminishes, the changes become more moderate, and are succeeded by more moderate retrogressions; until, as these movements and counter-movements decrease in amount and increase in frequency, they merge into an almost continuous growth. That adhesion to old institutions and beliefs, which, in primitive societies, opposes an iron barrier to any advance, and which, after the barrier has been at length burst through, brings back the institutions and beliefs from that too-forward position to which the momentum of change had carried them, and so helps to re-adapt social conditions to the popular character—this adhesion to old institution and beliefs, eventually becomes the constant check by which the constant advance is prevented from being too rapid. This holds true of religious creeds and forms, as of civil ones. And so we learn that theological conservatism, like political conservatism, has an all-important function.
* * * * * § 33. That spirit of toleration which is so marked a characteristic of modern times, and is daily growing more conspicuous, has thus a far deeper meaning than is supposed. What we commonly regard simply as a due respect for the right of private judgment, is really a necessary condition to the balancing of the progressive and conservative tendencies—is a means of maintaining the adaptation between men’s beliefs and their natures. It is therefore a spirit to be fostered; and it is a spirit which the catholic thinker, who perceives the functions of these various conflicting creeds, should above all other men display. Doubtless whoever feels the greatness of the error to which his fellows cling and the greatness of the truth which they reject, will find it hard to show a due patience. It is hard for him to listen calmly to the futile arguments used in support of irrational doctrines, and to the misrepresentation of antagonist doctrines. It is hard for him to bear the manifestation of that pride of ignorance which so far exceeds the pride of science. Naturally enough such a one will be indignant when charged with irreligion because he declines to accept the carpenter-theory of creation as the most worthy one. He may think it needless as it is difficult, to conceal his repugnance to a creed which tacitly ascribes to The Unknowable a love of adulation such as would be despised in a human being. Convinced as he is that all punishment, as we see it wrought out in the order of nature, is but a disguised beneficence, there will perhaps escape from him an angry condemnation of the belief that punishment is a divine vengeance, and that divine vengeance is eternal. He may be tempted to show his contempt when he is told that actions instigated by an unselfish sympathy or by a pure love of rectitude, are intrinsically sinful; and that conduct is truly good only when it is due to a faith whose openly-professed motive is other-worldliness. But he must restrain such feelings. Though he may be unable to do this during the excitement of controversy, or when otherwise brought face to face with current superstitions, he must yet qualify his antagonism in calmer moments; so that his mature judgment and resulting conduct may be without bias.
To this end let him ever bear in mind three cardinal facts—two of them already dwelt upon, and one still to be pointed out. The first is that with which we set out; namely the existence of a fundamental verity under all forms of religion, however degraded. In each of them there is a soul of truth. Through the gross body of dogmas traditions and rites which contain it, it is always visible—dimly or clearly as the case may be. This it is which gives vitality even to the rudest creed; this it is which survives every modification; and this it is which we must not forget when condemning the forms under which it is presented. The second of these cardinal facts, set forth at length in the foregoing section, is, that while those concrete elements in which each creed embodies this soul of truth, are bad as measured by an absolute standard, they are good as measured by a relative standard. Though from higher perceptions they hide the abstract verity within them; yet to lower perceptions they render this verity more appreciable than it would otherwise be. They serve to make real and influential over men, that which would else be unreal and uninfluential. Or we may call them the protective envelopes, without which the contained truth would die. The remaining cardinal fact is, that these various beliefs are parts of the constituted order of things; and not accidental but necessary parts. Seeing how one or other of them is everywhere present; is of perennial growth; and when cut down, redevelops in a form but slightly modified; we cannot avoid the inference that they are needful accompaniments of human life, severally fitted to the societies in which they are indigenous. From the highest point of view, we must recognize them as elements in that great evolution of which the beginning and end are beyond our knowledge or conception—as modes of manifestation of The Unknowable; and as having this for their warrant.
Our toleration therefore should be the widest possible. Or rather, we should aim at something beyond toleration, as commonly understood. In dealing with alien beliefs, our endeavour must be, not simply to refrain from injustice of word or deed; but also to do justice by an open recognition of positive worth. We must qualify our disagreement with as much as may be of sympathy.
* * * * * § 34. These admissions will perhaps be held to imply, that the current theology should be passively accepted; or, at any rate, should not be actively opposed. “Why,” it may be asked, “if all creeds have an average fitness to their times and places, should we not rest content with that to which we are born? If the established belief contains an essential truth—if the forms under which it presents this truth, though intrinsically bad, are extrinsically good—if the abolition of these forms would be at present detrimental to the great majority—nay, if there are scarcely any to whom the ultimate and most abstract belief can furnish an adequate rule of life; surely it is wrong, for the present at least, to propagate this ultimate and most abstract belief.”
The reply is, that though existing religious ideas and institutions have an average adaptation to the characters of the people who live under them; yet, as these characters are ever changing, the adaptation is ever becoming imperfect; and the ideas and institutions need remodelling with a frequency proportionate to the rapidity of the change. Hence, while it is requisite that free play should be given to conservative thought and action, progressive thought and action must also have free play. Without the agency of both, there cannot be those continual re-adaptations which orderly progress demands.
Whoever hesitates to utter that which he thinks the highest truth, lest it should be too much in advance of the time, may reassure himself by looking at his acts from an impersonal point of view. Let him duly realize the fact that opinion is the agency through which character adapts external arrangements to itself—that his opinion rightly forms part of this agency—is a unit of force, constituting, with other such units, the general power which works out social changes; and he will perceive that he may properly give full utterance to his innermost conviction: leaving it to produce what effect it may. It is not for nothing that he has in him these sympathies with some principles and repugnance to others. He, with all his capacities, and aspirations, and beliefs, is not an accident, but a product of the time. He must remember that while he is a descendant of the past, he is a parent of the future; and that his thoughts are as children born to him, which he may not carelessly let die. He, like every other man, may properly consider himself as one of the myriad agencies through whom works the Unknown Cause; and when the Unknown Cause produces in him a certain belief, he is thereby authorized to profess and act out that belief. For, to render in their highest sense the words of the poet— ——Nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes.
Not as adventitious therefore will the wise man regard the faith which is in him. The highest truth he sees he will fearlessly utter; knowing that, let what may come of it, he is thus playing his right part in the world—knowing that if he can effect the change he aims at—well: if not—well also; though not _so_ well.
----- Footnote 7: These extracts are from an article entitled “Nature and God,” published in the _National Review_ for October, 1860.
PART II.
LAWS OF THE KNOWABLE.
CHAPTER I. LAWS IN GENERAL.
§ 35. We have seen that intellectual advance has been dual—has been towards the establishment of both a positively unknown and a positively known. In making ever more certain the inaccessibility of one kind of truth, experience has made ever more certain the accessibility of another kind. The differentiation of the knowable from the unknowable, is shown as much in the reduction of the one to perfect clearness, as in the reduction of the other to impenetrable mystery. Progressing enlightenment discloses a definite limit to human intelligence; and while all which lies on the other side of the limit, is, with increasing distinctness, seen to transcend our finite faculties, it grows more and more obvious that all which lies on this side of the limit may become an indisputable possession.
To speak specifically—it has been shown that though we can never learn the _nature_ of that which is manifested to us, we are daily learning more completely the _order_ of its manifestations. We are conscious of effects produced in us by something separate from ourselves. The effects of which we are conscious—the changes of consciousness which make up our mental life, we ascribe to the forces of an external world. The intrinsic character of these forces—of this external world—of that which underlies all appearances, we find inscrutable; as is also the internal something whose changes constitute consciousness, but at the same time we find that among the changes of consciousness thus produced, there exist various constant relations; and we have no choice but to ascribe constancy to the relations which subsist among the inscrutable causes of these changes. Observation early discloses certain invariable connexions of coexistence and sequence among phenomena. Accumulating experiences tend continually to augment the number of invariable connexions recognized. When, as in the later stages of civilization, there arises not only a diligent gathering together of experiences but a critical comparison of them, more remote and complex connexions are added to the list. And gradually there grows up the habit of regarding these uniformities of relation as characterizing all manifestations of the Unknowable. Under the endless variety and seeming irregularity, there is ever more clearly discerned that “constant course of procedure” which we call Law.
The growing belief in the universality of Law, is so conspicuous to all cultivated minds as scarcely to need illustration. None who read these pages will ask for proof that this has been the central element of intellectual progress. But though the fact is sufficiently familiar, the philosophy of the fact is not so; and it will be desirable now to consider it. Partly because the development of our conception of Law will so be rendered more comprehensible; but chiefly because our subsequent course will thus be facilitated; I propose here to enumerate the several conditions that determine the order in which the various relations among phenomena are discovered. Seeing, as we shall, the consequent necessity of this order; and enabled, as we shall also be, to estimate the future by inference from the past; we shall perceive how inevitable is our advance towards the ultimatum that has been indicated.
* * * * * * * * * * § 36. The recognition of Law, being the recognition of uniformity of relations among phenomena, it follows that the order in which different groups of phenomena are reduced to law, must depend on the frequency and distinctness with which the uniform relations they severally present, are experienced. At any given stage of progress, those uniformities will be most recognized with which men’s minds have been oftenest and most strongly impressed. In proportion partly to the number of times a relation has been presented to consciousness (not merely to the senses); and in proportion partly to the vividness with which the terms of the relation have been cognized; will be the degree in which the constancy of connexion is perceived.
The frequency and impressiveness with which different classes of relations are repeated in conscious experience, thus primarily determining the succession in which they are generalized, there result certain derivative principles to which this succession must more immediately and obviously conform. First in importance comes _the directness with which personal welfare is affected_. While, among surrounding things, many do not appreciably influence the body in any way, some act detrimentally and some beneficially, in various degrees; and manifestly, those things whose actions on the organism are most influential, will, cæteris paribus, be those whose laws of action are earliest observed. Second in order, is _the conspicuousness of one or both the phenomena between which a relation is to be perceived_. On every side are countless phenomena so concealed as to be detected only by close observation; others not obtrusive enough to attract notice; others which moderately solicit the attention; others so imposing or vivid as to force themselves upon consciousness; and supposing incidental conditions to be the same, these last will of course be among the first to have their relations generalized. In the third place, we have _the absolute frequency with which the relations occur_. There are coexistences and sequences of all degrees of commonness, from those which are ever present to those which are extremely rare; and it is clear that the rare coexistences and sequences, as well as the sequences which are very long in taking place, will not be reduced to law so soon as those which are familiar and rapid. Fourthly has to be added _the relative frequency of occurrence_. Many events and appearances are more or less limited to times and places; and as a relation which does not exist within the environment of an observer, cannot be cognized by him, however common it may be elsewhere or in another age, we have to take account of the surrounding physical circumstances, as well as the state of society, of the arts, and of the sciences—all of which affect the frequency with which certain groups of facts are exposed to observation. The fifth corollary to be noticed, is, that the succession in which different classes of phenomena are reduced to law, depends in part on their _simplicity_. Phenomena presenting great composition of causes or conditions, have their essential relations so masked, that it requires accumulated experiences to impress upon consciousness the true connexion of antecedents and consequents they involve. Hence, other things equal, the progress of generalization will be from the simple to the complex; and this it is which M. Comte has wrongly asserted to be the sole regulative principle of the progress. Sixth, and last, comes _the degree of abstractness_. Concrete relations are the earliest acquisitions. The colligation of any group of these into a general relation, which is the first step in abstraction, necessarily comes later than the discovery of the relations colligated. The union of a number of these lowest generalizations into a higher and more abstract generalization, is necessarily subsequent to the formation of such lowest generalizations. And so on continually, until the highest and most abstract generalizations have been reached.
These then are the several derivative principles. The frequency and vividness with which uniform relations are repeated in conscious experience, determining the recognition of their uniformity; and this frequency and vividness depending on the above conditions; it follows that the order in which different classes of facts are generalized, must depend on the extent to which the above conditions are fulfilled in each class. Let us mark how the facts harmonize with this conclusion: taking first a few that elucidate the general truth, and afterwards some that are illustrative of the several special truths which we here see follow from it.
* * * * * § 37. The relations earliest known as uniformities, are those subsisting between the common physical properties of matter—tangibility, visibility, cohesion, weight &c. We have no trace of an era in human history when the resistance offered by every visible object, was regarded as caused by the will of the object; or when the pressure of a body on the hand supporting it, was ascribed to the direct agency of a living being. And accordingly, we see that these are the relations oftenest repeated in consciousness; being as they are, objectively frequent, conspicuous, simple, concrete, and of immediate personal concern.
Similarly with respect to the ordinary phenomena of motion. The fall of a mass on the withdrawal of its support, is a sequence which directly affects bodily welfare, is conspicuous, simple, concrete, and very often repeated. Hence it is one of the uniformities recognized before the dawn of tradition. We know of no time when movements due to terrestrial gravitation were attributed to volition. Only when the relation is obscured—only, as in the case of an aerolite, where the antecedent of the descent is unperceived, do we find the fetishistic conception persistent. On the other hand, motions of intrinsically the same order as that of a falling stone—those of the heavenly bodies—long remain ungeneralized; and until their uniformity is seen, are construed as results of will. This difference is clearly not dependent on comparative complexity or abstractness; since the motion of a planet in an ellipse, is as simple and concrete a phenomenon as the motion of a projected arrow in a parabola. But the antecedents are not conspicuous; the sequences are of long duration; and they are infrequently repeated. Hence in a given period, there cannot be the same multiplied experiences of them. And that this is the chief cause of their slow reduction to law, we see in the fact that they are severally generalized in the order of their frequency and conspicuousness—the moon’s monthly cycle, the sun’s annual change, the periods of the inferior planets, the periods of the superior planets.
While astronomical sequences were still ascribed to volition, certain terrestrial sequences of a different kind, but some of them equally without complication, were interpreted in like manner. The solidification of water at a low temperature, is a phenomenon that is simple, concrete, and of much personal concern. But it is neither so frequent as those which we saw are earliest generalized, nor is the presence of the antecedent so uniformly conspicuous. Though in all but tropical climates, mid-winter displays the relation between cold and freezing with tolerable constancy; yet, during the spring and autumn, the occasional appearance of ice in the mornings has no very manifest connexion with coldness of the weather. Sensation being so inaccurate a measure, it is not possible for the savage to experience the definite relation between a temperature of 32° and the congealing of water; and hence the long-continued conception of personal agency. Similarly, but still more clearly, with the winds. The absence of regularity and the inconspicuousness of the antecedents, allowed the mythological explanation to survive for a great period.
During the era in which the uniformity of many quite simple inorganic relations was still unrecognized, certain classes of organic relations, intrinsically very complex and special, were generalized. The constant coexistence of feathers and a beak, of four legs with a bony internal framework, of a particular leaf with poisonous berries, are facts which were, and are, familiar to every savage. Did a savage find a bird with teeth, or a mammal clothed with feathers, he would be as much surprised as an instructed naturalist; and would probably make a fetish of the anomalous form: so showing that while the exceptional relation suggested the notion of a personal cause, the habitual relation did not. Now these uniformities of organic structure which are so early perceived, are of exactly the same class as those more numerous ones later established by biology. The constant coexistence of mammary glands with two occipital condyles in the skull, of vertebræ with teeth lodged in sockets, of frontal horns with the habit of rumination, are generalizations as purely empirical as those known to the aboriginal hunter. The vegetal physiologist cannot in the least understand the complex relation between the kind of leaf and the kind of fruit borne by a particular plant: he knows these and like connexions simply in the same manner that the barbarian knows them. But the fact that sundry of the uniform relations which chiefly make up the organic sciences, were very early recognized, is due to the high degree of vividness and frequency with which they were presented to consciousness. Though the connexion between the form of a given creature and the sound it makes, or the quality of its fur, or the nature of its flesh, is extremely involved; yet the two terms of the relation are conspicuous; are usually observed in close juxtaposition in time and space; are so observed perhaps daily, or many times a day; and above all a knowledge of their connexion has a direct and obvious bearing on personal welfare. Meanwhile, we see that innumerable other relations of exactly the same order, which are displayed with even greater frequency by surrounding plants and animals, remain for thousands of years unrecognized, if they are unobtrusive or of no apparent moment.
When, passing from this primitive stage to a more advanced stage, we trace the discovery of those less familiar uniformities which constitute what is technically distinguished as Science, we find the order of discovery to be still determined in the same manner. We shall most clearly see this in contemplating separately the influence of each derivative condition; as was proposed in the last section.
* * * * * § 38. How relations that have an immediate bearing on the maintenance of life, are, other things equal, necessarily fixed in the mind before those which have no such immediate bearing, is abundantly illustrated in the history of Science. The habits of existing uncivilized races, who fix times by moons and barter so many of one article for so many of another, show us that numeration, which is the germ of mathematical science, commenced under the immediate pressure of personal wants; and it can scarcely be doubted that those laws of numerical relations which are embodied in the rules of arithmetic, were first brought to light through the practice of mercantile exchange. Similarly with Geometry. The derivation shows us that it originally included only certain methods of partitioning ground and laying out buildings. The properties of the scales and the lever, involving the first principle in mechanics, were early generalized under the stimulus of commercial and architectural needs. To fix the times of religious festivals and agricultural operations, were the motives which led to the establishment of the simpler astronomic periods. Such small knowledge of chemical relations as was involved in ancient metallurgy, was manifestly obtained in seeking how to improve tools and weapons. In the alchemy of later times, we see how greatly an intense hope of private benefit contributed to the disclosure of a certain class of uniformities. Nor is our own age barren