Now this is exactly what we should expect to be the case, if the similarity in question be due to the cause which the present section endeavours to set forth. If all natural laws are self-evolved, and if human intelligence is but a subjective photograph of certain among their interrelations, it seems but natural that when this photograph compares itself with the whole external world from parts of which it was taken, its subjective lights and shadows should be found to correspond with some of the objective lights and shadows much more perfectly than with others. Still there would doubtless be sufficient general conformity to lead the thinking photograph to conclude that the great world of objective reality, instead of being the cause of such conformity as exists, was itself the effect of some common cause,—that it too was of the nature of a picture. Dropping the figure, if it is true that human intelligence has been evolved by natural law, then in view of all that has been said it must now, I think, be tolerably apparent, that as by the hypothesis human intelligence has always been required to think and to act in conformity with law, human intelligence must at last be in danger of confusing or identifying the fact of action in conformity with law with the existence and the action of a self-conscious intelligence. Reading then in external nature innumerable examples of action in conformity with law, human intelligence falls back upon the unwarrantable identification, and out of the bare fact that law exists in nature concludes that beyond nature there is an Intelligent Lawgiver.

[§ 35]. From what has been said in the last five sections, it manifestly follows that all the varied phenomena of the universe not only may, but must, depend upon the persistence of force and the primary qualities of matter.[[23]] Be it remembered that the object of the last three sections was merely to "facilitate conception" of the fact that it does not at all follow, because the phenomena of external nature admit of being intelligently inquired into, therefore they are due to an intelligent cause. The last three sections are hence in a manner parenthetical, and it is of comparatively little importance whether or not they have been successful in their object; for, from what went before, it is abundantly manifest that, whether or not the subjective side of the question admits of satisfactory elucidation, there can be no doubt that the objective side of it is as certain as are the fundamental axioms of science. It does not admit of one moment's questioning that it is as certainly true that all the exquisite beauty and melodious harmony of nature follow as necessarily and as inevitably from the persistence of force and the primary qualities of matter, as it is certainly true that force is persistent, or that matter is extended and impenetrable. No doubt this generalisation is too vast to be adequately conceived, but there can be equally little doubt that it is necessarily true. If matter and force have been eternal, so far as human mind can soar it can discover no need of a superior mind to explain the varied phenomena of existence. Man has truly become in a new sense the measure of the universe, and in this the latest and most appalling of his soundings, indications are returned from the infinite voids of space and time by which he is surrounded, that his intelligence, with all its noble capacities for love and adoration, is yet alone—destitute of kith or kin in all this universe of being.

[CHAPTER V].

THE LOGICAL STANDING OF THE QUESTION AS TO THE BEING OF A GOD.

[§ 36]. But the discussion must not end here. Inexorable logic has forced us to conclude that, viewing the question as to the existence of a God only by the light which modern science has shed upon it, there no longer appears to be any semblance of an argument in its favour. Let us then turn upon science herself, and question her right to be our sole guide in this matter. Undoubtedly we have no alternative but to conclude that the hypothesis of mind in nature is now logically proved to be as certainly superfluous is the very basis of all science is certainly true. There can no longer be any more doubt that the existence of a God is wholly unnecessary to explain any of the phenomena of the universe, than there is doubt that if I leave go of my pen it will fall upon the table. Nay, the doubt is even less than this, because while the knowledge that my pen will fall if I allow it to do so is founded chiefly upon empirical knowledge (I could not predict with à priori certainty that it would so fall, for the pen might be in an electrical state, or subject to some set of unknown natural laws antagonistic to gravity), the knowledge that a Deity is superfluous as an explanation of anything, being grounded on the doctrine of the persistence of force, is grounded on an à priori necessity of reason—i.e., if this fact were not so, our science, our thought, our very existence itself, would be scientifically impossible.

But now, having thus stated the case as strongly as I am able, it remains to question how far the authority of science extends. Even our knowledge of the persistence of force and of the primary qualities of matter is but of relative significance. Deeper than the foundations of our experience, "deeper than demonstration—deeper even than definite cognition,—deep as the very nature of mind,"[[24]] are these the most ultimate of known truths; but where from this is our warrant for concluding with certainty that these known truths are everywhere and eternally true? It will be said that there is a strong analogical probability. Perhaps so, but of this next: I am not now speaking of probability; I am speaking of certainty; and unless we deny the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge, we cannot but conclude that there is no absolute certainty in this case. As I deem this consideration one of great importance, I shall proceed to develop it at some length. It will be observed, then, that the consideration really amounts to this:—Although it must on all hands be admitted that the fact of the theistic hypothesis not being required to explain any of the phenomena of nature is a fact which has been demonstrated scientifically, nevertheless it must likewise on all hands be admitted that this fact has not, and cannot be, demonstrated logically. Or thus, although it is unquestionably true that so far as science can penetrate she cannot discern any speculative necessity for a God, it may nevertheless be true that if science could penetrate further she might discern some such necessity. Now the present discussion would clearly be incomplete if it neglected to define as carefully this the logical standing of our subject, as it has hitherto endeavoured to define its scientific standing. As a final step in our analysis, therefore, we must altogether quit the region of experience, and, ignoring even the very foundations of science and so all the most certain of relative truths, pass into the transcendental region of purely formal considerations. In this region theist and atheist must alike consent to forego all their individual predilections, and, after regarding the subject as it were in the abstract and by the light of pure logic alone, finally come to an agreement as to the transcendental probability of the question before them. Disregarding the actual probability which they severally feel to exist in relation to their own individual intelligences, they must apply themselves to ascertain the probability which exists in relation to those fundamental laws of thought which preside over the intelligence of our race. In fine, it will now, I hope, be understood that, as we have hitherto been endeavouring to determine, by deductions drawn from the very foundations of all possible science, the relative probability as to the existence of a God, so we shall next apply ourselves to the task of ascertaining the absolute probability of such existence—or, more correctly, what is the strictly formal probability of such existence when its possibility is contemplated in an absolute sense.

[§ 37]. To begin then. In the last resort, the value of every probability is fixed by "ratiocination." In endeavouring, therefore, to fix the degree of strictly formal probability that is present in any given case, our method of procedure should be, first to ascertain the ultimate ratios on which the probability depends, and then to estimate the comparative value of these ratios. Now I think there can be no doubt that the value of any probability in this its last analysis is determined by the number, the importance, and the definiteness of the relations known, as compared with those of the relations unknown; and, consequently, that in all cases where the sum of the unknown relations is larger, or more important, or more indefinite than is the sum of the known relations, it is an essential principle that the value of the probability decreases in exact proportion to the decrease in the similarity between the two sets of relations, whether this decrease consists in the number, in the importance, or in the definiteness of the relations involved. This rule or canon is self-evident as soon as pointed out, and has been formulated by Professor Bain in his "Logic" when treating of Analogy, but not with sufficient precision; for, while recognising the elements of number and importance, he has overlooked that of definiteness. This element, however, is a very essential one—indeed the most essential of the three; for there are many analogical inferences in which either the character or the extent of the unknown relations is quite indefinite; and it is obvious that, whenever this is the case, the value of the analogy is proportionably diminished, and diminished in a much more material particular than it is when the diminution of value arises from a mere excess of the unknown relations over the known ones in respect of their number or of their importance. For it is evident that, in the latter case, however little value the analogy may possess, the exact degree of such value admits of being determined; while it is no less evident that, in the former case, we are precluded from estimating the value of the analogy at all, and this just in proportion to the indefiniteness of the unknown relations.

[§ 38]. Now the particular instance with which we are concerned is somewhat peculiar. Notwithstanding we have the entire sphere of human experience from which to argue, we are still unable to gauge the strictly logical probability of any argument whatsoever; for the unknown relations in this case are so wholly indefinite, both as to their character and extent, that any attempt to institute a definite comparison between them and the known relations is felt at once to be absurd. The question discussed, being the most ultimate of all possible questions, must eventually contain in itself all that is to man unknown and unknowable; the whole orbit of human knowledge is here insufficient to obtain a parallax whereby to institute the required measurements.

[§ 39]. I think it is desirable to insist upon this truth at somewhat greater length, and, for the sake of impressing it still more deeply, I shall present it in another form. No one can for a single moment deny that, beyond and around the sphere of the Knowable, there exists the unfathomable abyss of the Unknowable. I do not here use this latter word as embodying any theory: I merely wish it to state the undoubted fact, which all must admit, viz., that beneath all our possible explanations there lies a great Inexplicable. Now let us see what is the effect of making this necessary admission. In the first place, it clearly follows that, while our conceptions as to what the Unknowable contains may or may not represent the truth, it is certain that we can never discover whether or not they do. Further, it is impossible for us to determine even a definite probability as to the existence (much less the nature) of anything which we may suppose the Unknowable to contain. We may, of course, perceive that such and such a supposition is more conceivable than such and such; but, as already indicated, the fact does not show that the one is in itself more definitely probable than the other, unless it has been previously shown, either that the capacity of our conceptions is a fully adequate measure of the Possible, or that the proportion between such capacity and the extent of the Possible is a proportion that can be determined. In either of these cases, the Conceivable would be a fair measure of the Possible: in the former case, an exact equivalent (e.g., in any instance of contradictory propositions, the most conceivable would certainly be true); in the latter case, a measure any degree less than an exact equivalent—the degree depending upon the then ascertainable disparity between the extent of the Possible and the extent of the Conceivable. Now the Unknowable (including of course the Inconceivable Existent) is a species of the Possible, and in its name carries the declaration that the disparity between its extent and the extent of the Conceivable (i.e., the other species of the Possible) is a disparity that cannot be determined. We are hence driven to the conclusion that the most apparently probable of all propositions, if predicated of anything within the Unknowable, may not in reality be a whit more so than is the most apparently improbable proposition which it is possible to make; for if it is admitted (as of course it must be) that we are necessarily precluded from comparing the extent of the Conceivable with that of the Unknowable, then it necessarily follows that in no case whatever are we competent to judge how far an apparent probability relating to the latter province is an actual probability. In other words, did we know the proportion subsisting between the Conceivable and the Unknowable in respect of relative extent and character, and so of inherent probabilities, we should then be able to estimate the actual value of any apparent probability relating to the latter province; but, as it is, our ability to make this estimate varies inversely as our inability to estimate our ignorance in this particular. And as our ignorance in this particular is total—i.e., since we cannot even approximately determine the proportion that subsists between the Conceivable and the Unknowable,—the result is that our ability to make the required estimate in any given case is absolutely nil.