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]