But is such a principle itself scientific? Is it not a gratuitous and monstrous assumption that we can know nothing but that of which our senses directly tell us? That the Universe has a cause is no less certain than that the Universe exists, for of that cause it is the monument. And, as of the whole, so of every part or element which it contains, it is absolutely certain that there must be a cause, and one adequate to the production of what has actually been produced; for as the proverb says, "Nothing is to be got out of a sack but what is in it." From such conclusions there is no escape;—and since it is impossible to find the cause required within the world of material forces and sensible phenomena, it becomes no less obvious that it must lie beyond, across the frontier which nothing material can pass.
Therefore, also, we know something concerning[{273}] that Cause,—very little, perhaps, in comparison with what we cannot know,—but still something very substantial. We know that such a Cause exists. We know that it must possess every excellence which we discover in Nature,—all that she has, and more; since what she derives from it, the Cause of Nature has of itself. In it must be all power, for except as flowing from it there is no power possible. Finally, as a capable Cause of law and order in Nature, and of Intellect and Will in man, the First Cause must be supereminently endowed with Understanding, and Freedom in the exercise of its might,—or it would be inferior to its own works.
Since there must have been something from eternity, [says Bolingbroke][321] because there is something now, the eternal Being must be an intelligent Being, because there is intelligence now; for no man will venture to assert that non-entity can produce entity, or non-intelligence, intelligence. And such a Being must exist necessarily, whether things have been always as they are, or whether they have been made in time: because it is no more easy to conceive an infinite than a finite progression of effects without a cause.
It is therefore not easy to understand how we can avoid the conclusion of the distinguished men of Science whom we have heard declare that they assume "as absolutely self-evident" the existence[{274}] of a Deity who is the Creator and Upholder of all things.
It will probably be answered that this is mere Anthropomorphism; which formidable term appears by many to be considered sufficient to close the whole question, and to rule the idea of a personal God out of court. Did not Voltaire remark that if in the beginning God made man to His own image and likeness, man has well repaid Him ever since? And what can be more conclusive than that?
But what—after all—does "Anthropomorphism" mean in this connexion? Simply, that being men we have to speak in human terms, even of what is superhuman. By no possibility can we do anything else. Limited as we are by the conditions of our nature, we can find no mode of expression except such as is based upon sensible experience; and although we can convince ourselves by rational inference of the existence, and to some extent of the character, of what is beyond sense, we can frame no description of it, nor even a phantasm or image by means of imagination, except so far as we are able to draw upon the phenomena of the external world. Thus it is that artists who endeavour to represent an immaterial being, as an angel, a djinn or a sprite, though the essence of the object they would depict is that it has no body, have perforce to give it one, though they make it as little gross as possible, for otherwise they could not portray it at all. But however such images may be refined[{275}] and etherealized they are intended to be understood only as conventional figures to suggest to the mind its own concept, which is as different from them as the notes produced by a singer are from those on the score from which he sings. No one imagines that the genius of Music is a young woman holding a shell to her ear, or that the Cherubim are heads and wings and nothing more. So it is with statements of the Theistic belief concerning the First Cause, or God. To put this into words we are compelled to use the only materials within our reach, and to borrow our phraseology from that which, within our experience is the highest and noblest element found in the Universe,—namely our own intelligence and will. These beyond question must be transcendentally possessed by the Cause on which they depend. So far Anthropomorphism is sound sense; that is to say, so long as it attributes all possible excellence to the source of all. It is foolish and unscientific only when it attributes to the Absolute and Unconditioned the limitations of an inferior order of being. We may truly say that a penny is contained in a pound,—but it does not follow that a sovereign must be of copper. According to the scientific doctrine that all our familiar forms of energy are ultimately derived from the Sun, it might well be argued from observation of a farthing rushlight that Solar Energy includes heat and light; but not that it is fed on tallow. This appears to be plain and obvious enough, often as[{276}] it is forgotten or ignored. As Sir Oliver Lodge has lately put the matter:[322]
Shall we possess these things and God not possess them? Let no worthy human attribute be denied to the Deity. There are many errors, but there is one truth in Anthropomorphism. Whatever worthy attribute belongs to man, be it personality or any other, its existence in the universe is thereby admitted; we can deny it no more.
Or as Professor Baden Powell expresses the same argument:[323]
That which requires thought and reason to understand must be itself thought and reason. That which mind alone can investigate or express must be itself mind. And if the highest conception attained be but partial, then the mind and reason studied is greater than the mind and reason of the student. If the more it be studied the more vast and complex is the necessary connexion in reason disclosed, then the more evident is the vast extent and compass of the intelligence thus partially manifested, and its reality, as existing in the immutably connected order of objects examined, independently of the mind of the investigator.
The reluctance frequently manifested by scientific men to admit the force of so plain an argument, appears to be generally due to a fundamental misconception. It is constantly assumed that to introduce the element of purpose in Nature is to[{277}] deny the continuity of Natural law, and that to speak of design in regard of a process or a structure, is equivalent to saying that a non-natural agent intervenes at that particular point and takes the work out of Nature's hands. This, it may be supposed, was Professor Huxley's idea when he spoke of "the commoner and coarser forms of teleology," giving as an instance the supposition that eyes were constructed for the purpose of enabling their possessors to see. It might indeed be replied that, at any rate, it is less difficult to suppose this, than that eyes were constructed without any purpose of seeing, or knowledge of the laws of optics;—but evidently it is taken for granted that Theists imagine every purposive item in nature to be violently introduced from without, like the forms of lions or peacocks into which topiarian gardeners clip their shrubs. But, as has been said, the laws of Nature are the expression of the mind of God: it is through them that He accomplishes His design. As Professor Romanes came to see at the close of his life, it is strange what jealousy there is of admitting the Creator into Creation. "It is still assumed on both sides," he wrote,[324] "that there must be something inexplicable or miraculous about a phenomenon in order to its being divine,"—and although we must utterly demur to such a description of the position of Theists, it undoubtedly is true of their adversaries. Their objections on this head can only signify that[{278}] it is with the laws of Nature as with a railway locomotive from which the driver, having got up steam and set it going, jumps off, leaving it entirely to its own devices. But, as a legislator, if rightly interpreted, speaks by the mouth of every judge who administers the law in practice, and applies it to concrete cases,—so the Author of Nature, whose laws cannot be perverted, provides through them for all that is to be operated by the forces He has instituted.