2 10 16 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/bfc27fd22a9a300530bed5f00f40470d.pdf?Expires=1782345600&Signature=SMgLhd9GGcA5A-GV3cfQyBERydglkoRmTiKNELtvhO35u9LzKVi6ni2ynguGZaDlZNjwLYLFNRTd0uG4MslG5OInV5JYhyBK59YsWQq0pw5z4mobo7rPk-afPAB69udZ6UmxO%7EdCYjjng%7EUOHhHYqmdI8wVy1t7MEYBYpHHi9amHjQmgD9dzuvB4856C8UCeylKQpyde9WwPyvII%7ELq%7EKp1FqHIs67FvtQZn0GA0smy3DHQhHBJKQJCTccmjxJDCjgoL4QX3eP3gZTZY6pg%7EMevlv59CZwhM4c2JJKTCkjlBY8N19icZAVpm8FLptiOknE-Nm2WwBzxea70RrudOMg__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 29ca2a47bc2c07336c686bef9522e42f PDF Text Text RELIGION AND SCIENCE. * BY PBOF. J. D. BELL. HAT do we know? This is the ultimate question in speculation, and on its decision depends the future of thought. To those unused to thinking it may seem very simple and easily answered. But the more we reflect upon it; the more we study its scientific, historical and social aspects; the more are we convinced that it is the abstrusest and most farreaching inquiry ever put by man to himself or to his fellows; and hence there have been (since it was first broached) almost as many responses as thinkers. As only confusion and misunderstanding can result from ignoring the real issue, let us formulate it in its full force. It is as follows: Have we any real knowledge, either direct or inferen­ tial, of the Supernatural, call it First Cause, Absolute, or Infinite ? In $ word, have we any such knowledge as would warrant us in asserting or denying the existence of such a being ? or in asserting or denying. the existence of any or all attributes, which the reverential feelings of humanity in times past have applied to the object of their adorations ? Let it be noted that the argument does not now turn on whether or not we have innate ideas—something in the mind antecedent to all ex­ perience of the external world. Indeed, it is perfectly competent to take the negative on the alleged knowledge of the Supernatural, while at the same time fully accepting intuition.f Provided our innate ideas be solely phenomenal, we can take whichever side we please in the great controversy of Locke and Leibnitz. The question of the origin of our knowledge is very important still'and was much more so in the past, but this importance is secondary. The extent of that knowledge is the prime question to which all others, must bow. Upon reflection it must be evident that the question as above stated W * A Review of Herbert Spencer. + The current empiricism seems utterly unphilosophical. For the organization of the brain must be antecedent to all experience whatsoever; even extending the Lockeian conception to the race or to all life (as Mr. Spencer does), only pushes the difficulty further back ; but does not solve it. The “ mirror,” “ slate,” and “ sheet of white paper,” theories of the mind are mere verbal fallacies. Life, be it in a zo­ ophyte or in man, must precede all experience; and as thought is but the highest expression of life, this is the same as saying that our mental apparatus possesses innate (organic) ideas. �122 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. is capable of solution, and that that solution will rigidly exclude all others. It is not meant that at a single sitting the question can be settled. Men do not so give up cherished opinions. They are only abandoned when seen to be contradictory to decisive experiences. As long as they do not perceive the contradiction, men can sincerely hold the most contradictory views. But when the discrepancy is perceived, they never rest until it is removed. It must be noted, too, that in all cases of psychological surgery the operation is not performed until a new organ is prepared to take the place of the old; which- new organ not only supplies the vacancy, but goes further, filling what was left empty by its predecessor, and locating functions before almost useless from positional instability. It was thus with Newton’s law of Gravita­ tion ; with the great generalization of Dr. J. R. Mayer, Joule, Grove, et al., known as the Conservation of Force; with the Darwinian law of Natural Selection ; and it will be so with the relations of the natural and the supernatural. And as in the former the explanation of other­ wise inexplicable occurrences is easily obtained by means of the law, so in the latter the difficulties inherent in every compromise will disappear in the real solution. I. It is admitted on all sides that a controversy exists. Thinkers are not so well agreed as to its nature or solution. The object of the present essay is threefold. To briefly examine this controversy; the compromises to which it has given rise; and the solutions proposed. Many of the thoughts here put forth were suggested by the writer’s opposition to Mr. Herbert Spencer’s Reconciliation of Religion and Science, which he believes to be erroneous and misleading; the exposi­ tion will consequently take somewhat of the form of an inquiry into the truth of some fundamental assertions made by that philosopher. As I shall, unfortunately, have more occasion for dissenting from Mr. Spencer’s mode of reasoning than the reverse, it is the more directly incumbent upon me to bear witness to the largeness of his views, and to his acuteness in analysis and,extraordinary powers of co-ordination. Though considering the task undertaken by him ifiipossible, and his synthesis of the knowable far from being true as a whole and in many parts totally false, I acknowledge that the world owes him a debt of gratitude for provoking healthful speculation by the lucid expression of his own suggestive thoughts. When did the controversy begin ? " Of all antagonisms of belief,” says Mr. Spencer, “the oldest, the widest, the most profound and the * most important is that between Religion and Science. It commenced when the recognition of the simplest Uniformities in surrounding * First Principles of a System Part I. The Unknowable, p, 11. of Philosophy. 2ded. New York, 1868. �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. , / 123 things set a limit to the previously universal fetishism. It shows itself everywhere throughout the domain of human knowledge: affectingmen’s interpretations alike of the simplest mechanical accidents and of the most complicated events in the histories of nations.” Is this very comprehensive assertion true ? On its face it appears to be his­ torical, but the sources of it are not indicated. It is to be regretted that very many contemporary writers, and Mr. Spencer among them, refuse their readers the privilege of checking their statements by references to the authorities for their facts. * The practice of citation 'though onerous on the writer, should never be allowed to fall into desuetude, as it saves him from hasty generalizations or at least guards against their banefulness, while at the same time forming an admirable logical exercise for the reader. In this case a search for such authori­ ties would have preserved our author from a totally groundless state­ ment. Faith other than that in evidence being out of place in his­ torical discussions, let us apply some well-known facts to this very con­ fident assertion. 1. The Bible being in every one’s hands will furnish a first test. The Old Testament Scriptures show us a state of society in which the recognition of uniformities had not only set limits to a previously uni­ versal fetishism, but, according to Mr. Spencer himself, a state in which this recognition had been carried so far as to differ in little but name from what M. Comte designated as the perfection of the meta■ physical and positive (or scientific) systems respectively.! In this very favorable case for Mr. Spencer, it is safe to say, after careful study, that no such antagonism is found. Antagonisms did exist, but they were political—questions of ethics and government, and not in any sense discussions about the origin and extent of our knowledge.! For in­ stance, men might and did deny that a certain man was sent by God, but was it ever doubted that some men were sent by God ? Again, it might be denied that certain rules of conduct were revealed by God, but did any one ever doubt that God revealed some rules ? Finally, men might deny the authenticity of certain traditions, said to have been revealed, but did they ever doubt the existence of revelation ? After this cursory vjew and argument which every reader can extend and verify for himself, it is hardly presumptuous to deny that this assumed antagonism affects <( men’s interpretations alike of the simplest . I mechanical accidents and of the most complicated events in the hisL tories of nations.” Both these and all such occurrences were believed * “Many authors entertain,not only a foolish, but a really dishonest objection to acknowledge from whence they derive much valuable information.”—Charles Dickens—“ The Pickwick Papers.” ® . f The Classification of the Sciences. 2d ed. New York, 1870, pp. 35, 36. t Revue des Deux Mondes. 1867, t. LXIX,pp. 818-850 and LXX. pp. 147-179. “ Les Prophetes d’Israel,” and Id. t. LXXXIII, pp. 76-112. “ La Religion primitive d’lsrael,” Essays by Albert Reville, in review of Dr. Kuenen’s researches. �124 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. to be due to the anger of the deity,—the conception of Law versus Miracle having never entered the Hebrew mind as far as can be gath­ ered from their sacred books. 2. Passing over the Koran, which, with the Hebrew Scriptures, may be said to contain the general speculation of the Semite man, and to which an identical train of reasoning will apply, let us turn to the Aryan man. The early thought of this race is preserved in three wellknown compilations: the Veda for the Hindus; the Zend-Avesta for the Persians; and the Homeric Poems for the Greeks. A candid ex­ amination of these works conclusively shows that this assumed antag­ onism did not exist at the time they were composed. There is antag­ onism in all, but it is person against person, and not ‘uniformities against persons. In the Veda the Devas (or ‘bright ’ gods,) fight and conquer their enemies—the ‘ dark ’ powers of nature; but he would be a bold man who should assert that the former were laws and the lattei persons. The bright gods are themselves superseded in the ZendAvesta ; but is it in favor of uniformities ? Not at all. The radiating gods (Light, Fire, etc., conceived as persons) take their places; but the mode of interpretation has not varied. Lastly: the Honieric Poems are almost as well known as the Bible; has this antagonism been found in them ? It will be perhaps a sufficient and conclusive answer to this interrogatory to cite the opinion of Mr. Grote, the great­ est living authority on “ the free life of Hellas.” Discussing this ques­ tion in. the sixteenth chapter (Part I) of his “ History of Greece,”* he reaches the conclusion that in the Homeric age “ no such contention had yet begun,” though the elements of it seem to have existed, the Moerse (or Fates) at rare intervals overruling the decisions of Zeus. Unfortunately for Mr. Spencer’s argument, however, these Moerae were not uniformities, but persons, like Zeus himself. As the world of speculation may be said to be divided between the Aryan man and the Semite, and as no such antagonism has appeared in the early specula­ tions of either, Mr. Spencer’s account of the commencement of the controversy must be rejected.! The foregoing was written before the appearance of Mr. Herbert * 3d Edition, London, 1851, Vol. I, p. 483. See also Chap. LXVIII (Part II)— Sokrates. f The following interesting diagram, showing the religions of the world whose rites are found systematized in books, is transferred from the second of the “ Lec­ tures on the Science of Religion,” by Professor Max Muller, which appeared in “ Frazer’s Magazine ” for May, 1870, pp. 581-593. The whole six lectures of the course, delivered last winter before the Royal Institution of London, will appear in successive issues of “ Fraser,” commencing with April. The attention of thinkers is invited to them, not indeed as being likely to contain anything very new, but as showing the drift of even orthodox thought. Surely the world is not standing still when an Oxford professor can coolly inform his brilliant Christian audience that to the scientific man all revelation must stand on the same footing, and that the mere assertion of its votaries that a religion is revealed affords no-presumption in its favor, (p. 590.) These lectures can be very advantageously compared with six fine essays by Simile Burnouf on “La Science des Religions ; sa Methode et ses Lim- �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 125 Spencer’s paper “ On the Origin of Animal Worship, etc.,” * which Sug­ gested the propriety of so far extending the limits of the present article as to admit a few remarks on the interesting subject there discussed. The ostensible aim of that essay is to give the genesis of the important historical facts which Mr. J. F. McLennan had recently published in the “ Fortnightly Review.”! This acute sociological observer collected from all sources a mass -of data bearing on the early worship of our race; and upon them, aided by the law of exogamy, viz.: that among savages, in order to guard against incest, marriage only takes place between indi­ viduals belonging to different "clans or stock families —all persons * having the same tribal name (“the lion,” “the turtle,” “the beaver,” etc.) being considered of the same family,J founded an hypothesis or ites.”—Revue des deux Mondes, December 1st and 15th, 1864; April 15th, August 15th and October 1st, 1868 ; and July 15th, 1869. The diagram is as follows: SEMITIC FAMILY . ARYAN FAMILY. Veda Brahmanism Old Testament Mosaism . Zend-Avesta Zoroastrianism TripiZaka Buddhism TURANIAN New Testament Christianity | Koran ARYAN ________ | Mohammedanism The Professor adds that China became the mother of two religions at almost the same time, each founded on a sacred code—the religion of Confucius and that of Lao-tse; the former resting on the Five King and Four Shu, and the latter on the Tao-tei King. The eight codes here given form the Sacred library of the world. The diagram shows that each of the great families in which speculation is indig­ enous has given birth to three separate forms of religion. Brahmanism and Bud­ dhism are directly affiliated, as are Mosaism and Christianity, while Zoroastrianism and Mohammedanism are only indirectly connected to the parent code. There is another curious fact pointed out by Muller, that both Buddhism and Christianity failed to take permanent root in their own families, and were compelled to abandon the fruitless task of ‘ reformation ’ with which they both set out. It should be also noted that the former went to a family lower than itself, cerebrally, while the lat­ ter came to one higher. There is another interesting fact to be gathered from the appended rough census of religions: it is that Christianity and Buddhism unite ’ noarly two thirds of the human race. As quoted from Berghaus’ Physical Atlas by Max Muller, (“ Chips; from a German Workshop,” Vol. I, p. 158,) the figures ac­ companying each form of religion indicate the percentage of the human race swayed by its dogmas:—Buddhism, 31.2 per cent; Christianity, 30.7 ; Mohammed­ anism, 15.7; Brahmanism, 13.4; Jews, 0.3 and Heathens 8.7. * “ Fortnightly Review,” May, 1870, pp. 535-550. f “ The worship of Animals and Plants,” Id., Oct. 1st and Nov. 1st, 1869, and Feb. 1st, 1870. These essays will well repay perusal. | “ Primitive Marriage,” by J. F. McLellan, 1865; also, “Kinship in Ancient Greece,” by the same, “ Fortnightly Review,” April 15,1866, pp. 569-588; as well as “ The Early History of Mankind,” by E. B. Tylor, London, 1865. On “ Exogamy,” Mr. Darwin has the following remarks, which show how deeply �126 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. working theory. Briefly stated, it is as follows : All the ancient nations passed through “ Totemism ” before attaining the higher religious rites. ' Totem is a name borrowed from the Indians of our continent, and sig­ nifies a protecting spirit, or, as the Canadians call it, “ Medicine.” The Totem may be either animal or vegetable. The permanent name of the stock-tribe was derived from it, and it early became a kind of vague sin, if an animal to kill it, if a vegetable to gather’it, and in either case to eat of it. This prohibition, known as “ tabu,” is absolute among the Fijians, it being criminal to partake of the Totem-god. In Egypt, the deity side of the Totem was still more developed, live animals having real religious rites in their honor. The same also occurred in India, as is very conclusively shown in Mr. Fergusson’s magnificent “ Tree and Serpent Worship.” In a word, traces of this embryo cultus are found everywhere among even the most civilized nations of antiquity—polytheism itself being apparently but a pantheon of Totems derived from each of the separate stocks represented in the nation, and modified by the increasing refinement of manners and advancement in speculation. Mr. McLennan further believes that to Totemism, and not to any pretended likeness, we can trace the names of the signs of the Zodiac and of the constellations, Bear, Dog, Swan, etc.; these designations being then given to new discoveries in the heavens, as marks of the esteem in which the terrestrial animals so named were held, just as, for some years, the planet discovered by the illustrious Sir that illustrious biologist has penetrated into ancient thought. They fbnh a happy contrast to the nonsense so current in relation to “ hygienic practices,” “ confusion of descent,” etc., etc.: “ It would be interesting to know, if it could be ascertained, as throwing light on this question with respect to man, what occurs with the higher anthropomor­ phous apes—whether the young males and females soon wander away from their parents, or whether the old males become jealous of their sons and expel them, or whether any inherited instinctive feeling, from being beneficial has been generated, leading the young males and females of the same families to prefer pairing with distinct families, and to dislike pairing with each other. A considerable body of evidence has already been advanced showing that the offspring from parents which are not related are more vigorous and fertile than those from parents which are closely related; hence any slight feeling, arising from the sexual excitement of novelty or other cause, which led to the former rather than to the latter unions, would be augmented through natural selection, and thus might become instinctive; for those individuals which had an innate preference of this kind would increase in number. It seems more probable, that degraded savages should thus unconsciously have acquired their dislike and even abhorrence of incestuous marriages, rather than that they should have discovered by reasoning and observation the evil results. * * * In the case of man, the question whether evil follows from close interbreeding will probably never be answered by direct evidence, as he propagates his kind so slowly and cannot be subjected to experiment; but the almost universal practice of all races at all times of avoiding closely-related marriages is an argu­ ment of considerable weight; and whatever conclusion we arrive at in regard to the higher animals maybe safely extended toman.”—The Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication. 2 vols. New York, without date. Chap. XVII, Vol. II, pp. 153, 154. In connection with this question, it would be interesting to know on which part of the system—the muscular or the nervous—close interbreeding reacts most unfa­ vorably. From many well-known facts it would seem to be the latter—but it should be experimentally settled. �♦ RELICION AND SCIENCE. 127 W. Herschel was named from him, and as many proposed' to call the planet Neptune “ Le Verner,” in honor of one of its mathematical discoverers. ■ • In the development of his thesis, Mr. McLennan had taken for granted that what is variously known as fetishism or animism repre­ sented the view of the early men on the producing causes of phe­ nomena ; in other words, that to savages, the conception of life and volition was unlimited. A tree, a stone, the. wind, the earth, sun, moon, etc., might have the one and exercise the other. He also remarked, that Totemism, “ the worship of animals and plants,” pre­ ceded in historical order anthropomorphism or the worship of man. The former theory of early thought Mr. Spencer regards as totally false; and to the latter statement he can only accord a qualified accept­ ance. Dealing with it first, he says, that while if we restrict the word worship to its present meaning, Mr.'McLennan’s theory is true, still, if we go to the foot of the matter—to the very origin of this Totemism itself—it requires great modification. “ The rudimentary form of all religion,” says he (p. 536), “ is the propitiation of dead ancestors, who' are supposed to be still existing, and to be capable of working good or evil to their descendants.” This belief in everlasting life he thinks generated out of the savage conception of present human existence as double, which belief in its turn he traces to the following leading expe­ riences: (1) The man’s shadow, which accompanies him continually; r - (2) the reflection of his face and figure in water, which seems another self, or rather an emanation from self; (3) echoes, which appear to be voices eluding his search; (4) dreams—“the root of this belief in another self lies in the experience of dreams;” (5) suspended anima­ tion, apoplexy, catalepsy, etc. And from all these the savage view of death is generalized, viz.: that the man has but abandoned his resi­ dence and may return to it again; and, consequently, that having given favors while present, he still remains capable of doing so in his absence. The question at once arises, if this theory be true, how came men to worship animals and plants, as, from the conclusive evidence adduced, Mr. Spencer acknowledges they did ? Very simply, says our author. Men named (or as he prefers to designate the process, “ nick­ named ”) each other from the phenomena of nature, in accordance with some real likeness between them; such as “the bear,” for a rough or unmannerly person; “ the sly old fox,” for a cunning person; “ car­ rots,” for a red-haired person; “ the mountain,” for a fat person, etc. This is the sole origin of proper names which become surnames by hereditary descent. Thus, in case the ancestor has done some notable action, his children will be proud of it and retain it. Now, when once two things have the same name, owing to the “ concreteness ” of primi­ tive language, the distinction in nature is lost, and what belongs to the one is unconsciously applied to the other. Hence comes the belief that the animal is the ancestor of the tribe; hence worship is offered �128 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. to it; and hence, finally, there appears in history the semblance of fetishness or animism. In a word, Mr. Spencer regards the embryo religious cultus, Totemism; and the primeval scientific hypothesis, fetishism or animism, simply as “ habitual misrepresentations,” caused by words. This extraordinary hypothesis attempts to account for three things —(1) for men’s names; (2) for their “worship of animals and plants”; and (3) for their fetishism. The following reasons show their incom­ pleteness, even if they do not refute Mr. Spencer’s conclusions. I. The slender evidence afforded by his Scotch excursion and by the customs of some manufacturing districts, hardly warrants the sweeping deduction that this “ bow-wow ” mode of naming men is the sole and original one. All travelers inform us that the natives gladly call their children after them. Among ourselves the same thing takes plaoe. How many Washingtons, Lincolns, Jeffersons, Jacksons are there ? We know that occupations gave names to men; as did their places of residence. They were and are “ nick-named ” from the color of their skin (“ nigger ”—Gr; Aithiops); from their gait in walking (“limper”); from defects in pronunciation (“stutterer”); from im­ portant events, either sad or joyful (“ Ichabod,” the glory is departed from Israel, etc.); from acts, either voluntary or involuntary (“Jacob,” supplanter; “ Karfa,” replacer); * from good or bad qualities; and it is said that, in some parts of Ireland, servants often address each other by their master’s surname. Mr. Spencer asserts that we must carry back our present mode of “ nick-naming ” to the infancy of the race. Very good! But the mode is not single (unfortunately for his hypo­ thesis) but infinitely complex. To form a true conception of the sub­ ject, therefore, we must take all the facts—not one. If we do so, a glance will show how impossible it is to accept Mr. Spencer’s theory. All the modes of naming here pointed out, and there are many more, should have given rise, if the “ word ” be omnipotent, to the worship of everything which ever gave a name to man. Has it done so ? II. In the next place, even granting Mr. Spencer’s “ nick-name ” theory (which we are far from doing), it leaves the real question with­ out solution. What did men first name—those things which im­ pressed them as most important or as least important ? Men are nick* “Travels in, etc., of Africa;” by Mungo Park. New Ed. London, 1823. Ch. XX, p. 408, ff. Especial attention is called to this brief but suggestive sketch of the Mandingoes, their mode of “ naming,” etc. He adds: “ Among the negroes every individual, besides his own proper name, has likewise a Tcontong or surname, to denote the family or clan to which he belongs ; . . . . and he is much flattered when addressed by it.” This looks like the “ Kobong ” of the New Zealanders and the “ Totem ” of our North American Indians. There is a good account of the In­ dian mode of choosing an occupation, in the paper from the N. A. Review, referred to on p. 132, note. See also “ Nouveau voyage dans le Pays des Negres, etc.,” par M. Anne Raffenel. Paris, 1856. T. I, p. 403, on naming children; and p. 237, ff., for an account of the Bambara god—Bowri. The whole volume is worthy of attention. �■ t RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 129 named from natural objects, but what were these objects named from ? On this supremely important point our philosopher has thrown no light. Now, no matter what theory may be held on the origin of language, the thought of the name-giver, be it ever so crude, must have exercised a preponderating influence in the formation of the symbol. Language . in its beginnings is analytical; the name separates the thing receiving it from certain other things. Dr. Latham thinks, correctly enough, ■ * that it is the attribute creating the feeling which suggests the name • and that the other attributes connected with the cause are practically non-existent. But his opinion, that the intellect has little to do with the operation, seems erroneous—as emotion is at least as strong in animals as in ourselves, yet without producing articulate speech. If we apply this view to the case in hand, we see that the fact (admitted by Mr. Spencer) of external objects being first named, proves that, whether really so or not, they were to men in that state more, import­ ant than their fathers, who were only named after them. But as men in all ages have really made deities of the objects most important to them, and as philological research shows that naming followed a similar course, it follows that Mr. Spencer’s hypothesis cannot be true. For, if so, men would have named and worshipped the least important things. While, secondly, if language be essentially analytical, the very fact that no Word represented the inanimate as distinguished from the animate, shows plainly that the distinction had not been perceived. It is, indeed, somewhat surprising that Mr. Spencer should throughout his paper have spoken as if words were like the “themistes” of the old Greeks,—things breathed into man from without, and hence entirely separate from his mental apparatus. It is conceded that there can be thought without language, but can there be language without thought ? It should never be forgotten that the world (objective to man) always supplies the subject-matter of thought, while the mind itself con­ nects these objects together. “ Things in motion,” said Shakespeare, “sooner catch the bye than what not stirs.” Consequently, we find the early men slaves to the dynamical aspects of nature,—all the oc­ currences requiring explanation were explained by some force. Now, it cannot be questioned that the force best known to men was the organic feeling of life—vital force; nor can it be doubted that they always explain the less known by the more known. Hence, the fetishistic view of nature as alive, and the theological or volitional hypothesis, of the universe, as created, supported, moved, etc., by the , I will of a god. It is only much later that, by the progress of sci­ ence, a more correct view of nature is obtained. Then comes into view the great law, applied in physics by Bacon, and distinctly for­ * “ Elements of Comparative Philologyby R. GE Latham, F. R. S., etc. London, 1862 ; p. 737. See also the ninth of Max Muller’s “ Lectures on the Sci­ ence of Language;” I. Series. New York, 1862; and the eleventh of Prof. Whit­ ney’s “ Lectures on Language, etc.” New York, 1867. * �130 - « RELIGION AND SCIENCE. mulated by M. Comte, as applicable to all phenomena,—that our theories, the connections furnished by the mind itself, should be subordinated to our objective materials. In a word, that observation must be supreme; all theories not founded on observed facts and against which any future observed facts can be opposed, must, ac­ cording to it, be abandoned. The assumed “ concreteness ” of words has, therefore, nothing to do originally with the confusion, which modern thinkers have named variously the fetishistic or animistic hypothesis. All words are by no means ‘concrete’ (in Mr, Spencer’s sense) at the earliest period. But even if they were, it could only show that, as the analytical faculties and language are correlated, the correctness of the word arose from confusion in the thought. * Its cumbrousness has not been urged against Mr. Spencer’s theory. We do not know whether nature intended things to be simple or not, and, therefore, complexity affords no presumption against a pro­ posed scheme for connecting them. But there is one point which cannot be passed over in silence. If men, when they first named the phenomena of nature, , drew a perfectly definite distinction be­ tween animate and inanimate, between human and merely animal, and if they afterwards confused the two together, by “ the worship of animals and plants,” imagining them to be their ancestors, then it follows that, as men advanced in civilization, they retrograded in powers of analysis. In other words, civilization (or progress) depends, in part at least, on well directed emotions; to seek out this proper di­ rection is a process of analytical reasoning; still, as man ascended the scale on the one side, he was going down on the other. When it is re­ membered that the lower races fail most-conspicuously in analysis,— even among the Chinese, it is.said, there is not a single native mathema­ tician,—such a deduction from a sweeping theory is likely "to give us pause and make us rather bear the ills we have than fly to other that we know not of.” Mr. Spencer thinks that his theory affords a better explanation of the facts of mythology than the current hypothesis. If the latter be taken with Mr. McLennan’s " totem” supplement, this does not seem to be true. Nor do the instances given by him furnish con* Those wishing to follow up the subject of fetishism are referred to Mr. E. B. Tylor, “ The Early History of Mankind ” (London, 1865), and “ The Religion of Savages,” Fortnightly Review, Aug. 15, 1866, pp. 71-86; to Mr. G. Grote, “ The History of Greece,” Part I, especially Ch. XVI, in which he endorses M. Comte’s view (vol. I, p. 498); to R. F. Burton, “ The Lake Regions of Central Africa ” (London, *1860), Ch. XIX, vol. II, pp. 324-378 ; and more especially to M. Auguste Comte, Cours de Philosophie positive, lecjon 52, t. V, 1st ed., 1841, pp. 30-115, and 2d and 3d editions, edited by Littre, 1864, and 1869, pp 24-83. Now that the Sci­ ence of Religions is taking its place in Sociology, the remarkable discussion of the subject by M. Comte is worthy of attention. See work cited, lecons'52, 53, 54, con­ tained in the fifth volume. The laws of mind, or the Philosophia primct, will be found stated in Chapters III and IV of the fourth volume of the Politique positive. Attention is also directed to the essays printed as an Appendix to that volume. �HJiLlGIO.Y AND SCIENCE. 131 vincing proofs of its truth—especially when coupled with the reasons above given against its reception. As to the unqualified assertion that, •“ the rudimentary form of all religion is the propitiation of dead ancestors, etc.,” it is extremely rash at the present day to decide such, a point ex cathedra. It must be ad­ mitted that‘ propitiation ’ is one form, but it was totally impossible for such a religion to become organizing. Until it superadds the ‘ thanks­ giving’ form it remains always a rudiment, and hence merely merits the name of one of the elements, out of which, when supplemented by others, religious rites are developed. Propitiation is always joyless: only when the man is sick and the family in distress is it thought * necessary. Being much more mercantile than religious, this propitia­ tion belief, except in such moments, exerts little influence on its firm­ est adherents. The mere make-shift for religion found among the poorest and most degraded of humanity, it has the fatal want of contin­ uity and reverence. Anything like a proper conception of religion springs up only when men begin to be better fed. In such cases the food presented to them appears a worthy object of reverence. And, there can be little doubt that “grace before, meals” is a relic of Totem­ ism still lingering among us, and one of the earliest real religious cus­ toms of humanity. The numerous feasts of the ancient religions, and the times they were held, “ harvest,” “sheep shearing,” etc., point to the thanksgiving aspect of ancient faiths. While the traces of it, every­ where apparent, demonstrate its greater importance in the immense majority of cases. It can surely not be omitted in tracing the genesis of religion. As to the other part of the statement, the question at once arises, * who in savage modes of thought were a man’s ancestors ? To the answer—solely his human progenitors—it may be objected, that though this is the correct view and the popular one at present, nothing shows it to have been held by the early thinkers. In their opinion, on the contrary, all dynamical phenomena might produce men, and thus be­ come ancestors of individuals or the race. Habitual misrepresentation cannot account for such a belief. It is sui generis. In this connection attention should be directed to two historical facts decidedly opposed to Mr. Spencer’s hypothesis—(1) The religion of ancient Israel seems to have been a nature worship in which the attributes of strength, stabil­ ity, etc. (El, strong, Jahveh Zabaoth,pleader of the hosts of heaven), were reverenced. The large element of fear in the primitive concep­ tion, and which was never discarded, as its usual concomitant, led to the most onerous propitiatory ceremonial.f But as far as can be gath­ ered from the researches of the learned, no man-worship appears in it from beginning to end. Indeed it is a well known historical fact that * See a fine account of one of these ceremonies in “The Zulu-land,” by Rev. Lewis Grout, Phila.: 1864, chap. xi. pp. 132-162. + See Reville’s Essay on “ The Primitive Religion of Israel,” mentioned above. g �132 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. the conception of a god-man, so familiar to the Greeks, was so utterly distasteful to the Jews as to lead more than anything else to the destruction of Christ. The second fact is still more germane to the subject—“ In no Indian language could the early missionaries find a word to express the idea of God. Manitou and Okie meant anything endowed with supernatural powers, from a snake-skin or a greasy Indian conjurer up to Manabozho and Jonskeha (kind of creator of the World). The priests were forced to use a circumlocution, ‘ The Great Chief of Men/ or ‘ The Great Manitou who lives in the Sky.’ Yet it should seem that the idea of a supreme controlling spirit might naturally arise from the peculiar character of Indian belief. The idea that each race of animals has its archetype or chief, would easily suggest the existence of a supreme chief of the spirits or of the human race—a conception imperfectly shadowed forth in Manabozho. The Jesuit missionaries seized this advantage. ‘If each sort of animal has its king/ they urged, e so, too, have men; and as man is above all the animals, so is the spirit that rules over man the master of all the other spirits.’ The Indian mind readily accepted the idea, and tribes in no sense Christian quickly rose to the belief in a one controlling spirit. The Great Spirit became a distinct existence, a prevailing power in the universe, and a dispenser of justice.” * Mr. Spencer’s humanistic hypothesis seems utterly irreconcilable with either of these facts. In this latter, each sort of animal had its king, and still man had none. The author of the paper from which the above extract has been made, shows very clearly the heterogeneous elements out of which even so rudimentary a religion as these Indians * had, Was formed. It seems not to be “ habitual misrepresentation ” that leads men to worship the elements,—thunder, lightning,—but what leads them in other circumstances to offer the best cow to the enraged shade of their father, viz: the conception of power over their destinies to be remorselessly used to their disadvantage. In a word, complexity in genesis and. development is what above everything we must bear in mind in tracing the history of religions. Finally, on the subject of naming Mr. Spencer has adduced no proof whatsoever that stock-names derived from Totems are the residua of the nick-naming process which he so graphically describes. Indeed it appears as if the stock-name stood on an entirely different footing,from what, by an anachronism, we may call the baptismal name. Park and many other travelers show the way in which savages obtain the latter, but they found the surname invariable,—each family being once for all provided with such a designation. The whole subject deserves careful study, but in the meantime a suggestion may not be out of place. Recurring to Mr. Darwin’s acute hint on the subject of exogamy, might not names have been originally given to men in order to guard against the possibility of incest, and incidentally to. bind them together * “Indian Superstitions," North Am. Review, July 1866 (N. S.), Vol. CIII, p. 10. �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 133 in war, blood, feud, etc.? Would not these names be derived from what was to them the most important of surrounding existences ? and would not these in the very rudest times be their food—the animals and plants on which they lived ? To the savage emaciated by hunger, food-must have seemed the greatest of life-givers. He, who a few hours before, was lying pale, listless, taciturn, with muscles relaxed, and nerves unstrung, now on the reception of food and with a slight interval.for rest, appears as a new man—his carriage erect, with ruddy color, voluble tongue, and nerve and muscle a’ctive. The kind of food which they ate, first permanently divided men, and united them. Can we wonder that when their circumstances improved, they should regard with reverence, what preserved them alive and separated them from all others. To the savage, life is the greatest of boons; why should he then deprive of life the being which was his early life-giver? Hence the Fijian “ tabu.” As to the belief that men were descended from their Totems, it may have arisen out of the idea pointed out above, viz: that food was the greatest of life-givers. It can hardly be a reminiscence of the occurrence of any such fact—that is even if we accept the Darwinian theory. As to religion, the more it is studied the more apparent it is that the deities of every people are divided into two great classes—extra­ human and human. The former are from the first separated into two * kinds—-the one, the powers of nature, remote, terrible, recurring only at intervals, contains the rudiments of what we know as the supernat­ ural ; the other, present, familiar, but still marvelous, softens down the fearful side of the former, and if allowed to proceed ends by sapping its vitality. The religion of Israel seems to have been of the former * kind; while the joyful religions of the Aryan nations, (specially but wrongly designated as polytheistic, as if all religions were not both monotheistic and polytheistic,) seem to have been of the latter. The limits of the present essay merely permit the indication of this point, together with the remark that with the decay of the extra-human dei­ ties has grown the dignity of the human. Nature was the enemy of man in the early times, and was consequently propitiated. Through man’s inquiries it has become his friend, and is now vaguely rever­ enced. Hence the pantheism so apparent at the present day. The same thing has in a somewhat different mode taken place with man himself,—he is now reverenced as a member of the great human fam­ “ Polynesian Reminisceflces,” by W. T Prichard, F. R. G. S., etc. London, I860, chap. V, pp. Ill, ff. “ Fiji and the Fijians,” by Thomas Williams. New York, 1859, chap. VII. By the.way, there is much in this chapter utterly irreconcilable with Spencer’s hypothesis. “ New Zealand, etc;: ” by Dr. Ferdinand von Hochstetter, (Eng. trans, by E. Sauter.) Stuttgart, 1867, chap. X, p. 209, and the opinions of Schieren there referred to. See also “ The Lake Regions of Central Africa;’ by R. F. Burton. London, 1860, Vol. II, chap XIX, pp. 324-378. He especially repudiates the ‘euhemerism’ supported by Mr. Spencer. A work too little known should also be consulted, “ The Rambles and Recollections of an Indian official,” by Lt. Col. Wm. H. Sleeman. 2 vols. London, 1844. �134 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. ily, and not, as in former times, because he holds sa high position. Love has taken the place of fear. Indeed, so far has this view pene­ trated even orthodox thought, and that too outside of Germany, that it is being boldly claimed that religion is a psychological product, no more revealed than language. Before resuming the argument proper, it may be well to add that a great deal asserted by Mr. Spencer is admit­ ted as both true and important; but from the considerations above ad­ duced, it must appear that he has failed to support his hypothesis. In such discussions as the present a thinker cannot too carefully guard him­ self against the sarcasm of Xenophanes—that if horses had deities they would have made them in their own likeness. This was partially true as to the Greeks, but as to the lower races the reverse would be nearer the truth. The best observers agree in asserting that there is no feel­ ing of personal pride among the latter, and hence their great gods were more likely to be taken objectively to the human race. Peoples proud of their individualism seem alone to have what may really be called human gods; but as such a feeling comes late in the race, Mr. McLen­ nan’s assertion that the anthropomorphic gods succeeded to the animal gods seems fully borne out. - The truth of the whole matter may be thus expressed: the formative element of all religions is human, but the matter varies with the people, its scale of civilization, physical sur­ roundings, etc. Who are Parties to this Controversy ?—Mr. Spencer, accepting the popular opinion, answers, Religion and Science. In order to test the truth of this response, let us place clearly before us what he and others mean by these two terms. About Science there can be no difficulty. We find spread out before us a universe, containing certain existences, mat­ ter, life, society, exhibiting certain properties or forces, without which we never find them. In order to predict their future manifestations, which, theoretically and practically, contain matters of high interest to us, we trace out their general facts or laws. Two things are to be noted—subject-matter and method. The former, matter of various kinds with its forces; the latter, a mode of investigating and classify­ ing them, and a ctest of truth’for the conclusions reached. Now, what is Religion ? This very important factor in Mr. Spencer’s alleged antagonism is very vaguely dealt with. After following him carefully throughout his exposition, the only inference to be drawn is that, hav­ ing constantly heard from the pulpit and seen in the newspapers Reli­ gion and Science pitted against each other, he accepted the statement as true, and forthwith set about the task of reconciling them. He as­ serts (F. P., p. 30) that “to the aboriginal man and to every civilized child the problem of the Universe suggests itself;” and (p. 43) that, “leaving out the accompanying moral code, which is in all cases a supple­ mentary growth, a religious creed is definable as an A priori theory of the universe.” Is the inquiry into the whence and whither of the uni­ verse religious ? if so, what is scientific, as opposed to it ? Is a relig­ �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 135 ious creed the.religion itself? if so, in what does it differ from science, except that the creed of the one is subjective and the creed of the other objective ? But if Mr. Spencer could escape from the difficulties here raised (which he cannot), how can he reconcile these statements with that on p. 17, that “Religion under all its forms is distinguished from everything else in this, that its subject-matter is that which passes the sphere of experience ? ” How further can he reconcile this assertion with that on p. 44, that “"Religions diametrically opposed in their overt dogmas are yet perfectly at one in the tacit conviction that the existence of the world, with all it contains and all which surrounds it, is a mystery ever pressing for solution?” If this mystery is ever' * pressing for solution, the Universe must be the subject-matter of relig­ ious speculation, and consequently it is not “ that which passes the sphere of experience.” The Real Merits of the Case.—No matter how modified, no such antagonism as Mr. Spencer conceives has existed; his definition of Re­ ligion will not hold; and therefore no Reconciliation is called for. What science has always opposed is religious creeds—not because they asserted a mystery, but because they gave certain explanations of it. Indeed, with the most unpardonable inconsistency, Mr. Spencer asserts both and endeavors to reconcile them. But they are irreconcilable. It is not about the subject-matter presented for interpretation, but about the method of interpreting that subject-matter, that the controversy originated and is now carried on by all those in earnest in the matter. Further, as a statement of fact, we deny that the subject-matter of re­ ligion has anywhere ever passed the bounds of -experience. Though it may not be consonant to usage to so designate them, all religious creeds whatsoever have been scientific—that is to say, attempts to explain the * Universe. The idea of mystery, in Mr. Spencer’s sense, is not found in ancient times; and the conception of an unattainable unknown, had never presented itself to the primeval mind. How it could with a voli­ tional (or, in Comtean phrase, ‘ theological ’) hypothesis, is a mystery which no one until Mr. Spencer had attempted to solve. In the earli-‘ est times everything on which speculation was exercised was animated; man’s theories did not rise above his feeling of power or muscular sen­ sations. Then the fetish-man, the rain-maker, the medicine-man, the sorcerer—each could do with nature as he wished: he could close the windows of heaven that it should not rain, and open them again by in­ cantation; he could literally kill and make alive. Later, gods had large domains, they gave revelations, had prophets and oracles to clear up the difficulties which should present themselves.f These it would seem were very adequate precautions against the Unknowable. This being premised, the controversy can be limited to the method * Emile Burnouf’s essays referred to above—especially V, Rewe des deux Mondes, Oct. 1,1868. f On the subject of ‘ Prophecy ’ see Reville’s papers, referred to above. �136 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. of explaining the facts presented by the universe. Now if we can in­ terpret those facts in two opposed .modes there is hope of reconciling the parties. How chimerical this is all thinkers know. The parties to this controversy are not Religion and Science ; they are different phil­ osophies or religious creeds. The whole war is carried on inside of religion itself, the strife being for the chief place in its gift—that of corner-stone of the great edifice, and, consequently, of being supreme guide of mankind in all its relations, practical and theoretical, moral and esthetic. The adversaries are three in number—theology, meta­ physics, and science. The first, represented among us by Christianity in all its varied forms, has in its hands nearly all the»machinery for controlling men’s minds. It has immense sums of money; stately churches; gorgeous ritual; eloquent, and in many cases honest preach­ ers. But what is its record at the present day. It has been slowly -giving way. It asserts that the world was created by-the deity’s voli­ tion, and is still ruled by his ordinance—but how few of its intelligent votaries dare state these things as they were ^stated in the past. The six days of creation laid down in the Mosaic cosmogony are explained away in such mode as to shock the moral sensibility of the conscien­ tious, and provoke the questionings of the inquiring. Theologians have for centuries defended their own doctrines very feebly; that task has mostly fallen into the hands of metaphysicians, whose impress, in the shape of ontological entities instead of the fine personal concep­ tions of the older creed, is plainly ^visible. A metaphysical god has taken the place of Jehovah; and we can even see, by the advance of Unitarianism, etc., that these- conceptions, long masters of the indi­ vidual in his closet, are endeavoring to become masters of society through the pulpit. Both of these, though essentially disparate, regard with fear the rise and steady advance of the scientific doctrine elabo­ rated by the observational method. It asserts that we have been una­ ble to reach any creation; and that far from any such event being recent, as the ignorance of the past asserted, that of even our earth is immensely remote. It further ‘shows that as far as we have gone laws, not volitions, govern the universe; while (as indeed the scientific con­ ception implies,) these laws do not depend upon any volitions. The fecundity of this method and the sterility of that opposed to it; the development of scientific doctrine and its continuous addition of new domain, contrasted with the unprogressiveness of its opponents; and its immense practical importance as opposed to their utter impotence in the affairs of life, all point in the direction of its ultimate victory Would it not be contradictory to all experience if such was not the sure precursor of that end ? Here is one mode of explaining the uni­ verse which asserts that man has had communion with God, and yet has, in a modified form. Still we challenge it to show anything prac­ tical ever thus reached. It was not surely by prayer that the Atlantic telegraph was laid or the Pacific'railway built. Here is another that �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 137 holds that man carries with him at all times a machine (mind) which can inform him of absolute knowledge, ‘ the nature of things,’ etc. But we did not go there to receive our oracles in relation to the proper mode of laying that cable, or the proper route for that railway. Nor do astronomers go there to learn the distances of the stars; nor chemioo-astronomers to learn their elements. Ancient traditions, dignified as Revelation, but full of contradictions and notorious ignorance; * modern introspection, full of pretense and high-named “discoveries,” but barren of result, have, forsooth, more titles to be called religions than has science, with its homogeneous method, mutually verifying re­ sults and immense practical importance. On the contrary it will be found that in the present state of the human mind in Western Europe; and America, science can do more to legitimately satisfy all its yearn­ ings than the assertions of theologians or the reveries of introspectionists, no matter how sanctified by age or covered with words. If this is not the object of religion, what is ? It is currently supposed that this contention arose first and solely in Greece, when physical speculation began. Kapila and Buddha, in India, were at least as early as the sixth century before Christ, and possibly earlier. These thinkers felt this contradiction^ and 'Buddha gave a so­ lution of it, which is one of the most wonderful in speculative inquiry. Kapila was the Hume of India, and it is doubtful if the subtile Scot has improved much on the introspective Hindu. But no matter where it arose, it is confined to the Aryan race; the observing race; the men who prized knowledge, for that is the meaning of Veda, the title of their Sruti (or revelation). This clash of methods continued in Europe for some centuries, until Christianity finally put the old controversy to rest. It slept for ages, but was resumed again on its ceremonial side by the reformers of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, and on its speculative side by the physicists (more especially) after the rise of the Italian school of scientists in the sixteenth century. “ Clash of methods ” appears in the foregoing. To some readers it may have occurred that not the methods, but the extent of our knowl­ edge or assumed knowledge clash. This is true; but it is the method, * The sterility of theological thought and the ignorance of Revelation is perhaps shown by nothing more clearly than its account of a pretended fall of man. There is almost complete certainty that it is just such a fiction as Rousseau’s ‘state of na­ ture.’ Here are the remarks of Mr. E. B. Tylor: “The advocates of the theory that savages are degenerate descendants _of civilized men have still full scope in pointing out the imperfections of their adversaries’ evidence and argument. But the new facts, as they come in month by month, tell steadily in one direction. The more widely and deeply the study of ethnography is carried on, the stronger does the evidence become that the condition of mankind in the remote antiquity of the race, is not unfairly represented by modern savage tribes.”—“ Nature,” Nov. 25, 1869, p. 105-. See also “ Pre-historic Times,” by. Sir J. Lubbock, Bart., F. R. S., etc. 2d Ed., London, 1869, passim. Every intelligent reader is acquainted with the acute remarks of Thucydides on the early state of man in the opening of his History. �138 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. and the method alone which sets limits to our knowledge. With the theological method—explanation by volitions—there can be no un­ known ; it is only by means of the positive method—explanation by law—that such an unknown arises as a definite conception. Kapila’s dialectic limited the knowledge of men, subjectively considered, to the most wonderful extent, and hence, on his acceptance of its results, Buddha, in furtherance of its religious projects, was able to lopp off at a single stroke nearly the whole ceremonial observances of India. The (so-called) physical philosophers of Greece limited men’s knowledge, objectively considered, and hence were able to overturn many of the ancient idola of the human mind, and lay the foundation for future * progress. II. Having recognized that the controversy arose in India and in Greece at least six centuries before Christ, and that the ultimate ques­ tion is as to the extent of our knowledge, which is itself a question of methods, let us now proceed to briefly review some of the compromises to which it has given rise. * . Kapila, with Kantian inconsistency, did not deny u revelation.” He, an utter agnoiologist,f as much so as Buddha himself, accepted the Veda. According to Max Muller, his arguments are very similar to those used by Dean Mansel in his celebrated Bampton Lectures. Pass­ ing into Greece, we find Anaxagoras supposing a controlling mind (Nous) and matter. He forgets all about the mind, as was pointed out by Plato and Aristotle, after formulating it at the beginning. --------------------------------------------------- ?----- - ------------------------------ . * Max Muller finely remarks (“ Chips from a German Workshop.” 2 vols. New York, 1869. Vol. I, p. 65) that Hindu thought was a psychological experi­ ment. The philosophers of India seem to have been impressed by the want of con­ sonance between what they found in consciousness on mental examination, and what should be in it according to the traditional theology. They reached as near to a true psychology as unaided introspection ever can hope to do. Except within very narrow limits introspection, no matter how honestly and carefully performed, must be fallacious. Man, the individual, is there made the measure of the universe of mind. But no proof has been adduced to show that any two men have con­ sciousnesses alike, any more than they have feet, or hands, or eyes alike. In the next place, consciousness improves with civilization and increased education; there is, therefore, no reason to think that what a man in our day finds in his consciousness, was in that of his barbarous ancestor. The addition of opium and intoxica­ ting liquors to nutrition shows how consciousness can be changed. How do we know that it is not so, but less marked, with other articles of diet ? A breakfast might, therefore, vitiate a whole psychological analysis. To obviate these diffi­ culties, Psychology must be studied historically. The language, manners and customs, religious ceremonies, laws, etc., must show us the ancient thought of the race. The other view of the question seems to have struck the Greek—the extemal and not the internal, the historical and not the introspective. Hence the fecundity of the beginning made by him. With the Hindu,. there was only a subjective test of truth; the Greek founded an objective one—he declared in history the omnipotence of evidence, and in physics the omnipotence of observation. j- Gr. Agnoia, ignorance ; and logos, discourse. Applied to one who is ignorant of the existence or non-existence of the gods. 4 J j & <3 .. -L �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 139 Sokrates * divided the universe into two parts; the physical half be­ longing to the gods, into which men were interdicted from inquiring; and the human half, which was open to their search. The Platonic compromise was based on that great thinker’s mental analysis and his­ torical inquiries; and is. presented to us in his abortive attempt at social reform. When centuries afterwards Christianity put life into this scheme—gave it an object around which to crystallize, a solution and not a compromise was presented to the world. The Church was very largely indebted to Greek thought for its speculative embodiment; to Greek subtilty for the disgregation of thought which afforded its doctrine such free scope; to the Greek genius of Alexander who placed Greece beyond itself; and more than all, to Greece it was indebted for its founder. The god-man is, as above remarked, Grecian, not Mosaic.f But despite all this, the speculation of that great people, as far as or­ ganization was considered, was a failure. They were, however, the great seminal minds of the world. Much of the Church’s metaphysics was borrowed from the dialectics of Plato and his followers; and some of its rules bear the impress of “The Republic” and “The Laws; ” and Aristotle’s philosophy, to a certain extent objective and observational, served for ages as its physical dreed. Still we must re­ member, neither the socialism of Plato coupled with his idealism, nor the physicism of Aristotle coupled with his shadowy, metaphysical god, were alone able to reconstruct the world. Christianity supplied the emotional life, without which all the rest was vain. Descending to modern times, we find the same desire as in the ancient world to save some part of supernaturalism. Descartes form­ ally abjured any social bearing which his “ Method ” might seem to imply; and this abjuration evidently sprung from his desire to retain his position in the Church. The powerful appeals of Bacon, together with the discoveries of Galileo and the physicists, had compelled a re­ adjustment of philosophy, and the “ Discourse on Method ” was the result. The continued advance of observational science, the remark­ able speculations of Thomas Hobbes and Locke’s celebrated “ Essay upon Human Understanding,” called for another adjustment. The task was undertaken by Leibnitz, one of the greatest, though unfor­ tunately, too little unitary minds, the race has ever produced. His compromise is scattered up and down through his works rather than codified in any one. It is at present of only historical importance. Again, the advance of science, both physical and historical, and the powerful, though in many places self-contradictory, negative criticism of Hume, called for a new metaphysical revelation. Immanuel Kant presented it to the world. - In many respects the * “ Xenophon’s Memorabilia,” “ Plato’s Apology,” and “ Grote’s Greece.” Part II, ch. LXVIII. f “ The Place of Greece in the Providential Order of the World,” by the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone. (An Address, etc.). London, 1865. �140 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. “Kritik der reinen Vernunft” leaves little to be desired. He has stated and defended the phenomenality of all' knowledge with an ex­ actness and vigor which cannot be too highly praised. He has guarded against Hume’s glaring error of denying the Unconditioned—a mis­ take which must detract very much from his famed acuteness. But, while gladly acknowledging this, we find: (1) that Kant, not satisfied with showing that Hume’s position was suicidal, and not seeing that the only true position was one of neutrality, goes beyond the limits of our faculties in the opposite direction from that of the ’Scotch philos­ opher. (2) That the great German thinker has not only “pure” reason, but “practical ” reason ; and, consequently, what he rejects out of the former, he takes into the latter. And (3) that its “ high priori ” ten­ dencies afforded no barrier against the developments given to them by Schelling, Hegel, and others. Kantism has taught the world something, but has failed as a system. It had the seeds of decay too deeply sown in it, to be long-lived. Even now, Dr. McCosh,.in his “Intuitions of the Mind,” criticises and refutes some of Kant’s antinomies. Until Sir W. Hamilton, the Scottish philosophy of the Superna­ tural never had a defender worthy of it. He, too, presented the world with a scheme for reconciling the chronic controversies of ages. Like Kant’s^ it reposed upon a verbal distinction. The great metaphysician thought he had discovered a difference between “ belief” and “ knowl­ edge,” and on this his whole compromise rests. It is, however, now well known that this distinction is purely hypothetical—thinkers of the most opposite schools, as Mr. Mill, M. Paul Janet, of the Institute of France, and Dr. McCosh, agreeing in repudiating it; both in its metaphysical bearings as used against Cousin, and in its theological consequences as developed by Sir W. Hamilton’s admiring disciple (now) Dean Mansel. Knowledge is and must be considered ultimate; and if we have no knowledge, we can have neither physical belief nor theological faith. Two celebrated contemporary naturalists, Dr. Hooker and Prof. Huxley, hold an opinion the exact reverse of that, of Sokrates.’ Ac­ cording to .them, the physical universe is open to the inquiries of sci­ ence, while man belongs to the gods. The former says: * “ If in her track, Science bears in mind that it is a common object of religion and science to seek to understand the infancy of human existence, that the laws of mind are not yet relegated to the domain of the teachers of physical science; and that the laws of matter are not within the religious teacher’s province, these may then work together in harmony and with good will.” While to the same purpose, but more definitely, the latter remarks: f “ Some, among whom I count my* “ President’s Address before the British Association, 1868.” Report, p. lxxiv. The word “ yet ” is suggestive. f “ The Scientific Aspects of Positivism.” “ Fortnightly Review,” June 1,1869. pp. 663, ff. �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 141 self, think the battle (between Theology and Science) will forever re­ main a drawn one, and that for all practical purposes this result is as good as anthropomorphism (or Theology) winning the day.” And still the eminent professor just before speaks about .philosophers arming themselves for battle on this last and greatest of questions. What is the use if it cannot be decided ? It is apparent that this position, like that of Sokrates, is one of unstable equilibrium—the question must have a solution. It now. remains to briefly examine Mr. Spencer’s compromise, or as he calls it reconciliation. We have cursorily examined its historical basis, let us now turn our attention to its metaphysical. Mr. Spencer divides the Universe into two parts—the one Knowable by our facul­ ties ; the other Unknowable. The former is the domain of Science; the latter, that of Religion. (1) Mr. Spencer’s nomenclature is open to the very gravest objection—an objection which goes to the very root of his distinction. He has not very clearly defined his terms, but a little reflection will show that if the Knowable means anything more than the known, either by induction or inference, it overpasses the limits of our faculties; necessitating the proposer of such a step to define how far he intends to advance,, and his safeguards against error in that terra incognita. Again, the Unknowable is not a negative conception, but a positive one (F. P., p. 91). If it does not mean all that is beyond knowledge, that is to say, unknown, it must be a known and not an Unknowable. Otherwise how can its existence be asserted ? Mr. Spen­ cer holds that we have an indefinite consciousness of this Unknowable (p. 88). If this be so, we surely know we have this consciousness; and knowing this, it makes no difference whether we can formulate it or not, we must be said to know it. Can we formulate the force of grav­ itation ? Not at all; we can only formulate the law of its manifesta­ tions. That we lenow gravitation must be conceded. Just in the same way, if this Unknowable is present as an ‘indefinite’ consciousness, who can tell but at some future time, some one will formulate the laws of its manifestations, and then it will be known in just the same way as we know the forces of matter ? * . * How little we have added to purely metaphysical inquiry will he shown on the complete publication of the philosophical works of the Hindus. As pure (or intro­ spective) thinkers, they stand unrivaled as far as can be judged from extracts and the comments of the learned. When we once have a comparative science of meta­ physics, the futility of it will more than ever appear—though where there was no physical science, it was all which could be done to prevent the mind from stagna■ting. The indefinite consciousness which Mr. Spencer finds in himself, and called by him the Unknowable, is apparently the same as that found by the ancient Hindus, and called by them much more correctly, Brahman (or power). Both the ■ Hindi! philosophers and Mr. Spencer' end by projecting this conception into the Universe. But if that consciousness does exist, how can we tell that it is the power which presents the Universe to us? This is wholly illegitimate reasoning. If the metaphysical conception of a god contained in man be true on the one hand, it is no less true on the other, that man’s religious instinct always prompts him to sup­ plement it by another beyond himself. May not this consciousness called the Un­ �142 RELIGION ANU SCIENCE. (2) In the next place, none of Mr. Spencer’s arguments demonstrate his conclusion. His argument to show that everywhere we reach by the limits of our faculties a boundary, is and must be accepted. But the man who points out an insuperable barrier has no justification for stepping over it, and giving “ a local habitation and a name ” to such supposed existence. If we reach a certain point beyond which it is absolutely- impossible to go at the present day, and beyond which no one in_ the past has gone, what confidence can be put in any assertion presuming to tell us aught -of anything outside of this limit ? It is unknown, and that is all we can say. Mr. Spencer will, however, not rest satisfied with this plain statement of the case. Everywhere his argument presupposes, and Ije asserts in many places, that we only know the Relative as an antithesis to the Absolute (F. P., p. 88); that this Unknowable is the cause of the Knowable—that in fact the forces of nature are effects (F. P., pp. 158-161); and that, in a word, it is the source of things. Now if all this can be legitimately predicated of it, the Unknowable is not destitute of attributes or relations. If the Relative is known only by its antithesis to the Absolute, the Absolute must be itself known, or this antithesis coiild not be perceived. Again., before it can legitimately be asserted that the Unknowable is the cause of the Knowable, it must be known. Besides cause and effect being a relation, and relations being Knowable, this highest of relations must be so. Hence we know the Absolute in two ways: negatively, as dis­ tinguished from the Relative, and positively, as its cause; in the same way we know the Unknowable—negatively, as contrasted with the Knowable, and positively, as its cause. This is all contrary to Mr. Spencer’s hypothesis. Again, if Mr. Spencer does not know the Unknowable, what right has he to define it as a power ? He censures those who conceive the cause of the Uni­ verse as a man I But if it be absolutely unknowable, we cannot tell whether it is a man or not; and when once.this hypothetical power is .admitted, it is impossible to prevent men from clothing it in what they know and respect—goodness and knowledge. Mr. Spencer has been eminently successful in showing that our knowledge is limited by an unknown, but he has not shown that it is an Unknowable power. He has utterly failed in showing the existence of such a power. His whole argument presupposes that such ghosts of matter as w things in them­ selves ” exist. Now if they do, by their very definition they are what • Prof. Ferrier designated as those things which we can neither know nor be ignorant of. As such they are of no momefrt to us; no matter . how transcendent may be their importance to more favored beings than knowable by Spencer, and Brahman by the Hindus, be the substratum of mind itself, and nothing more—the ultimate fact of our psychological system, beyond which we cannot go, and on which all our intellectual processes are built up ? In a word, may it not be our gravitation, which needs a Newton to formulate its law ? That it is God is unproved; and when examined, improbable. (See for ‘ Brahman ’ “ Chips,” Vol. I, p. 68.) �RELIGION AND .SCIENCE. 143 ourselves. But if an adversary should require Mr.. Spencer to show their existence, before he gives them a name and assigns them as the • object of the adoration of Humanity, in what manner could Jie do so ? and yet the request seems legitimate. (3) This brings us to the last point to which we will now advert. Mr., Spencer holds that we must have something in the nature of a reli­ gion, and he assigns this Infinite Unknowable as the object of religious * adoration. Many will no doubt be a little curious to know what the nature of such worship can be. A careful reading of “ First Princi­ ples,” may perhaps satisfy their curiosity.- As it does not seem to have received that attention which an indication of the duty of the religious man of the future deserves, it is presented in full. “ Very likely,” says he (p. 113), “ there will ever remain a need, to give shape to that indefi­ nite sense of an Ultimate Existence which forms the basis of our intel­ ligence. * * * Perhaps the constant formation of such symbols and constant rejection of them as inadequate, may be hereafter, as it has hitherto been, a means of discipline. Perpetually to construct ideas requiring the utmost stretch of our faculties, and perpetually to find that such ideas must be abandoned as futile imaginations, may realize to us more fully than any other course the greatness of that which we vainly strive to grasp. Such efforts and failures may serve to maintain in our minds a due sense of the incommensurable difference between the Conditioned and the Unconditioned. By continually seeking to know, and being continually thrown back with a. deepened conviction of the impossibility of knowing, we may keep alive the consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom and our highest duty to regard that through which all things exist, as the Unknowable.” The first thing that strikes one on reading this extraordinary pas­ sage is, that the celebrated “ relativity of all knowledge ” is useless as a guide in practice or speculation. If we have to be continually beating against the bars, what need in telling us that they will not give way? Such information would seem to warn us against wasting our strength on them. Here; on the contrary, we find, after all, that it is very likely the old contest will last forever. In what, more than in name, does this position differ from that of the Supernaturalists ? But, moreover, think of the enormous loss of mental power that this “ formation of symbols ” will entail; and for no practical object. In a world cursed with misery and ignorance, who can read such a proposition with any patience ? He who considers- that the Supernatural can be known, and that the Absolute ought to be worshipped, is justified in meditating upon the conception. But that a philosopher who holds that our faculties con- . fine us to the relative, that all beyond is absolutely unknowable, and as a consequence that we can form no conception whatsoever of it; who * “ The Classification of the Sciences,” 2d Ed., p. 41 ; and “First Principles,’ passim. �144 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. besides holds that we know nothing of immortality or a place where the Unknowable could punish us for not so meditating; that, in a word, a thinker who deals with philosophy from the scientific stand­ point should recommend us to waste our time and energies in this fashion, is a monstrous inconsistency, which nothing but its existence could render probable. * HL Having devoted morn space than could well be spared to Mr. Spen­ cer’s a Reconciliation,” let us now say a few words on a real solution of the difficulty. The contrQversy is of old standing, and already two solutions have been given; both being in operation for ages. The first was the Buddhistic. Owing to the grinding of the rules of Caste, which haunted a man even beyond the grave, Buddha denied eternal life. He was perhaps' the first to preach the immortality of works, and no finer system of ethics has yet been founded than his. The gods required so much time and their servants so much money, that Buddha was led to investigate their existence, and he came to the conclusion that no one had proved this existence. Buddha, as Max Muller says, turned a philosophical system into a Religion, but he seems not to have been able to see his way to a substitute for the gods he declared unknown— for in this as in so many other things wiser than Hume, Buddha did not deny the existence of the gods. The common people, however, solved the question. They worshipped Buddha himself, and installed tq keep him company an innumerable company of Bodhisattvas (or saints). That this was. a real solution is shown by the fact that Bud­ dhism has existed for 2,400 years, and Max Muller (“ Chips,” Vol. I, p. 250), no favorable judge, asserts that if the show of hands were now taken, it would have a plurality over any existing religion. A great deal is said about Nirv&na, or annihilation, the summum bonwm of the Bud­ dhists. But if we consider the state of India in his time, no imaginable need was at all equal to the rest there promised. The Christian solution was the second, and is so well known as to need few comments. It has many points in common with Buddhism. Like it, it preached good works and the abolition of sacrifices. Its founders did not go as far as Buddha, because there was not the same * In the text no remarks have been made upon the extraordinary fallacies which Mr. Spencer has borrowed from Hamilton and Mansel purporting to give an account of Ultimate Religious and Scientific Ideas. The reader who wishes to see them handled with deserved severity and unrivaled philosophical acumen, may con­ sult Mr, Mills’ “ Examination of Sir W. Hamilton’s Philosophy,” especially Chaps. IV, VI, XII and XXIV. It is a matter of doubt whether Mr. Spencer really holds the relativity of knowledge more firmly than did Sir W. Hamilton. Dr, McCosh also dissents from these errors, as might be expected. See his fine work/' The Intuitions of the Mind,” 2d Ed., N. Y., 1867. At p. 169 of which he asserts that knowledge is even the root of theological faith. �RELIGION AND SCIENCE. 145 necessity. It is really a “ stable ” compromise. It tried to accept both the Semite tendency and the Greek. For ages it seemed a complete fusion. But the Greek inquiring spirit was only sleeping; when it awoke, the irreconcilability of these two tendencies appeared. The struggle between them called for a new solution—a solution which should remedy the defects shown in those of the past. For ages there had been growing up slowly the belief in invariable laws in the Cosmos. The last decades have witnessed the wide dissem­ ination of it. In the physical domain, np thinker now denies their ex­ istence, and on all sides of us we see philosophers, even against their wishes, recognizing that to both life and society do they also apply.. As all the presumptions are in favor of its ultimate success, let us see what results from it. I. All“ontology ” becomes impossible. It is the very essence of the “ being ” with which this study deals to be absolute. The domain of law is, however, of the phenomenally relative. Hence with the advance of science these questions of absolute being are, in one domain after another, abandoned; the completeness of a science being shown by its studied ignorance of such questions. It seems but a legitimate inference that the complete extension of scientific method over the whole of human. thought, must end by showing the inanity of such study, and the much better channels of speculation. It will be seen that this “ reign of law ” does not deny the existence of Abso­ lute being or beings, it merely declares any law of their manifestations unknown; and from the failure of the greatest minds of the past, though continuously engaged in the search, it draws the inference, ap­ pearing more or less strong to different minds, that this knowledge is unattainable. At the same time that our assumed knowledge of ab­ solute existence has been fading away, our real knowledge of “infinity” has been continuously expanding. The ancients who imagined that a high mountain reached heaven, “ the starry-visaged home of the gods,” or those who on the plains of Shinar attempted to build a tower with the same view, had in reality no conception of the Infinite. While to the modern astronomer it is ever present both in time and space. And the researches on the “ Antiquity of Man,” not to speak of the utterly inconceivable age of lower forms of life, are introducing the conception into biological and sociological discussions. This infinity is objective and impersonal, while the ontological is subjective and personal; the first is real, the second illusory. It has been remarked by M. lEmile Burnouf that there is a subtile pantheism underlying Buddhistic (so-called) atheism, or rather agnoiologism. In the same way modern naturalism or Positivism is built on a modified and tacit form of the pantheistic spirit—too absolute and in­ finite for any symbols of either expression or thought to contain. Sir W. Hamilton called this region, the Unconditioned. The name is a good one: much better than the unknown or the Unknowable. For in reality it is neither; being known as to its existence, but utterly in19 �146 RELIGION AND SCIENCE. scrutable in the laws of its manifestation. “ It is,” in the fine language of M. Littre, “ an ocean washing our beach, for which we have neither * ship nor sail, but the clear vision of which is as salutary as formid­ able.” This is the speculative side of the solution. We owe the form -in which it is here stated, to M. Auguste Comte. All other defenders of the phenomenality of knowledge attempt to show it by an analysis of man’s knowing faculty. Even granting that all which is claimed could be shown in this way, it is proper to supplement objectively and exper­ imentally the a priori laws of mind, by the a posteriori advance in spec­ ulation from the lower forms of speculation to the higher. While this will appear still more necessary when we remember that the transcen­ dental laws of mind have failed to stand the test of time—those fully admitted in one age being rejected in the next, and even between con­ temporaries ostensibly holding the same views on such subjects, there are startling discrepancies; f and in the second place being personal, they can never carry conviction to the mind of a disbeliever. The contrary is true of the objective method and the resulting doctrine. II. There is a second result of this belief in invariable natural laws. When it was established in India that the attributes of the gods were unknown and their existence unproved, the abolition of propitia­ tory rites was the immediate consequence. The same result followed the advent of Christianity, but from different causes. The whole oner­ ous ceremonial of “ sacrifice ” was swept away. It had completed its part in the education of humanity. Founded in selfishness, it taught men altruism. Originally men gave up their dearest objects to buy * “ Auguste Comte et la Philosophie positive.” 2d Ed. Paris, 1864, p. 519. “ Cours de Philosophic positive.” Par Auguste Comte. 6 vols, 8vo. 3d Ed. Paris, 1869. / “Preface d’un disciple,” par E. Littre, 1.1., pp. xxxviii-xlvi. It was only after the text of this essay was in type that I met this fine piece of criticism. Its essence is as follows: (1) This notion of the Unknowable (using Mr. Spencer’s word) belongs to M. Comte. “ He was the first who, by extending the positive method to Philosophy, has given philosophical consciousness this notion, withdrawing it at the same time from the provisional adequacy of Metaphysic, and the provisional inadequacy of Science.” * * * (2) Mr. Spencer has used Unknowable in two senses, and has failed to show their identity or even connection. The Unknowable of the faith (or God in the theological sense) served to organize societies so long as progress be­ longed to theological doctrines. The Unknowable of science, on the contrary, can take no part in the government of the social world; for it is truly unknown, and upon the unknown nothing can be built. * * * (3) Admitting Mr. Spencer’s principle as true, faith and science should agree ; and if they do not, some defect is shown in the principle. At all times faith defines the Unknowable—teaches the origin and end of things; but science declares it indeterminable. Either the former must lose its character or the latter; or if neither, then eternal conflict. “ If faith insists upon this determination, it breaks with the scientific definition of the Unkuowable ; if it does not, it breaks with faith that requires at least this de­ termination. The impossibility of the attempted reconciliation could not be more plainly shown.” M. Littre calls all that is beyond'knowledge, Immensity. f Witness Sir W. Hamilton, Mansel, Mr. J. S. Mill, Mr. Herbert Spencer— all of whom hold the relativity of knowledge, and yet individually explain it so differently. �RELIGION * I AND ' SCIENCE. 147 the favor of the god or appease his wrath; afterwards they gave them up without expectation of a quid pro quo ; and later still they sacri­ ficed their interests for the benefit of others. To us, sacrifice has no other meaning; and all are aware how much we owe to this change from an extra-human and selfish standard of morality to a human and unselfish one. But with the conception of invariable laws in the Con­ ditioned, there arises the at first startling conception that prayer, the solace of so many afflicted ones in the past and one of the most touch­ ing religious rites, must be abandoned. Weakness seems to be one of the ultimate religious ideas. Prayer is suggested by it, and for the ig­ norant alone produces results. As the reduction of phenomena to * law proceeds, one domain after another is given up. Asking- has been transformed into seeking. Every probability is in favor of the final universality of this mode of overcoming nature. We no longer expect a law to be broken by a miracle, but we inquire into the order of the phenomenon’s manifestation. Every research made in this way, contrary to the old selfish prayer, not only is of benefit to the immediate seeker at that particular moment, but also to him and to others in all future time in like circumstances. It becomes, as Comte has finely said, one of the logical powers of the human mind. We here again see that in fecundity and simplicity, though not in obviousness, the new far sur­ passes the old. The latter could be vitiated by a word pronounced wrong; was only of moment at the time, and only succeeded by chance; while with the latter, personal peculiarities have little to do; is useful at all times, and even its failures are matters for future redress. ' III. The belief in invariable natural laws leads to the further con­ sequence, that as no religion exists without a Deity and Ceremonies, however simple (God and the Rite), and no men without religion, - that as from the earliest times there seem to have been two forms of deities—extra-human and human, the latter coming into prominence as the former faded away—so we may expect it to still continue. With the decay of the propitiation of nature, real reverence for it has arisen; and with the decay of the old degrading ceremonies before one man, • there arises reverence for all. There seems to be another point worthy of mention—that with every step in the scale of civilization, the relig­ ious emotions have been more cast into the esthetic accompaniments, as their dogmas have broadened into great moral rules. The religion of the future will apparently have a mainly esthetic tendency; its doc­ trines will be the generalization of science, and its deity the latent pantheism of the Unconditioned in connection with the best type of human excellence. .* George Combe held and Prof. Tyndall apparently holds, that though prayer is useless objectively, it may be a great subjective help. Only in one way, when men believe that, what they ask will be given. “ He that cometh to God must believe that he is,” is as true now as when St. Paul Wrote it. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. 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BY PBOR ANDRÉ POËY. PINIONS are profoundly divided with regard to the origin and nature of good and evil. For Theologians : God is the good, and the Devil is the evil. Tradition, Christ, the apostles, the doctors, the councils, the Christian dogmas, teach us that God has existed from eternity infinitely powerful, wise and holy. The world and man, formed out of nothing, are the work of his hands, and these same hands which imparted life to man, will also give him happiness in a heavenly home. As the world is naturally divided between good and evil, evilis the result of a fall due to his free­ will, which precipitated man into sin, suffering, and eternal death. But the omnipotent goodness of God ransomed man from the error of his ways at the price of an infinite victim ; hence the coming of the Messiah, the Word, and the Son * * * when divine grace was dif­ fused anew over the earth. “ Here,” says M. Littré, “ the dogma is engaged in obscure questions between this divine grace, predestination, the small number of the elect on the one side, and on the other the free­ will of man, and the goodness of God.” At flast men rise from the dead, and are judged according to the deeds done in the flesh. The good are rewarded, the bad punished ; the heavenly Jerusalem opens its gates, and hell opens its portal for an order become unchangeable, and a time become eternal. “ Viewed in its ensemble,” says M. Littré, “ this dogmatism is a philosophy giving enough light to satisfy the faithful about the author of the world, the world itself, man, his duties and his destiny, while in its origin it is the rival of philosophy. It is important to note that each theology emanating from an antecedent theology, always carries with it a supernatural history. To be inti­ mately connected with a supernatural history is the character of a pri­ mordial philosophy or theology.” * Consequently, in the theological philosophy evil is the result of a fall due to free-will, and free-tvill, according to Bossuet,f belongs to the soul, which, being an immaterial substance, has the faculty of willing for its own sake, without the intervention of any motive as a deter­ mining cause of its resolutions. O * “ La Philosophie positive.” H&oue, 1867, vol. i, p. 9. f “ Traité sur le Libre arbitre.” 20 �154 GOOD AND EVIL. This theological conception of free-will is still the most advanced, for some Christian sects and established churches have, on the con­ trary, professed a bond-will, holding that, in the presence of divine omnipotence and omniscience, man’s freedom was an impiety, a chi­ mera, an immorality. According to the Presbyterian Church’s prin­ ciple of predestination, the sin being foreseen, man has to submit to free-will personified in the immutability of G-od’s omnipotence. Men are therefore fatally foreordained to be, while on earth, good or bad, according to their celestial missions. If from this theological or divine conception we pass to the meta­ physical or abstract, as found in the most advanced school of Locke, J. Stuart Mill, and Prof. Bain, we find that free-will, as the theologians understand it, is a psychological error, and that volition is not a taculty determined by its own momentum toward this or that motive. On the contrary, that the resolution urged by the will is determined by this and that motive. In a word, that it is not motives which obey volition, but volition which obeys motives. Thus, according to theological and metaphysical philosophy, the knowledge and practice of good and evil depend upon the will, and this last is determined either by itself, independently of all extraneous causes, or else by volition which obeys motives of some kind. All this, in the first case, leaves us in the most absolute vagueness about their origin, and in the second, we are only furnished with a point of de­ parture whence we plunge into the greatest obscurity with regard to the psychological explanation of good and evil, and their mental evolu­ tion in human morality. Theology and metaphysics being wholly powerless to furnish us the origin of good and evil, lgt us seek it in positive psychology. When anatomy and physiology were advanced enough in the knowledge of the simpler functions of the human body, they were compelled to take up immediately the more complicated functions of the brain and in­ telligence. They were at once struck with the close alliance of these two facts: that everything which changed the organ, also altered the state of its function. Then it was observed that all the impressions furnished us by the external world as well as our own internal im­ pressions, were immediately received and transmitted by our conducting nerves into the depths of the nerve-cells of which the cerebral mass is composed. These cells have then as their irreducible property the translation of these impressions into ideas and sentiments, their con­ servation, their association, and their elaboration into combinations, more or less complicated, according to the nature of the given impressions. Although the analysis of the anatomical conditions and physiological functions of the organs of the brain may in part be unintelligible to some readers who are not on a level with the latest discoveries in biology, I cannot pass it over in the conception of the new positive doctrine which I shall shortly propound. This analysis has conducted 1 - �GOOD AND EVIL. 155 us to the great discovery: that the brain is at the same time the seat of the affections, as well as that of the intelligence. The heart has no other function but that relating to the circulation of the blood and the preservation of life. Gall reclaimed the intellectual functions from the vegetative viscera, where they were believed to be situated, to place them in the brain. Now we exclude the affective functions from the heart, in order to bring them back to theii’ true place in the cells of the brain, where they are elaborated simultaneously with the intellectual. By considering the brain as the seat of the intelligence and affections, we do not say that it has the power of creating them. The brain creates nothing; it merely receives impressions external and internal, and elaborates them. The function of the brain is limited to the build­ ing up, so to speak, of ideas and sentiments out of the materials which come to it from without and within our organism: that is to say, out of external sensorial impressions, and internal instinctive impressions. In this respect the nerve-cells of the head have a triple basis: intel­ lectual, affective, and esthetic. Intellectual, or that which is attached to the sensorial impressions; affective, or that which is dependent upon the needs of individual life and that of the species; esthetic, or that connected with what is emotional and pleasing in certain auditory and visual impressions. In this the subjective or internal impression is always blended with the objective or external impression, and can only mean the faculty of elaboration on the part of the nerve-cells of the brain’s hemispherical lobes. All this in the esthetic faculty gives rise to music, architecture, sculpture, painting and poetry, idealized and constituting with ideology and morality the psychical phenomena of human reason. Now that we have an idea (exact enough for our purpose) of the anatomy and physiology of the intellectual and affective faculties, let us proceed to consider from a more elevated point of view, the latter only, as they are less known and accepted. We have already said that the impressions which affect our nervous system are of two kinds: the one, sensorial or of the senses; the other, instinctive. At present we shall add that sensorial impressions are the source of ideas, and instinctive impressions, the source of sentiments. The instinctive impressions are also of two kinds: those which apper­ tain to the instincts for preserving the individual life, and those which belong to the instinct for preserving the species. The instinct of indi­ vidual life depends upon self-love, which degenerates by reason of vicious direction into selfishness. The instinct-life corresponds to love of others, in its primordial forms of sexual attachment, maternal, filial, national love, and finally love for humanity, by the preponderance of altruism over selfishness. Thus, however complex may be our ideas, they can always be reduced to ideas, the simple products of our sensa­ tions ; in the same manner, however complex may be our sentiments, they can always be reduced to one of two fundamental sentiments. �156 GOOD AND EVIL. Hence the founder of the positive philosophy, Auguste Comte, has very judiciously divided all our sentiments into selfish and altruist. The selfish sentiments relate to the conservation and safety of the indi­ vidual, and the altruist sentiment to the conservation and safety of the community or of the human species. According as we ascend the zoological scale from the inferior ani­ mals to man, we always see altruism prevail over selfishness. Among fishes, which are cerebrally at the lowest point in the vertebrate scale and have no conception of either family or children, the instinct remains purely sexual. But the sentiment to which it gives birth com­ mences to be manifested in many mammifers and birds; only it is but temporary in the greatest, number of instances. Among men, the family raises in the children love of parents, and in the parents love of children. Afterwards are formed between families bonds of the same kind as between the members of the family itself. In fine, from this union and this fraternity, sociability arises here and there, and is more and more developed. Now mark the following: it is precisely upon this power of socia­ bility, which increases from the inferior beings up to man, that Auguste Comte has founded his static law, which serves as the basis of the science of sociology (the present politics). This law is in its turn so dependent upon the constitution of the brain, that it is effaced accord­ ing as the cerebral mass diminishes among animals. This constitutes among men the foundation of political economy. Whence man is a moral being, capable of acting under selfish impulses or under altruist impulses, according as these or those prevail. Barbarous people and certain narrow natures * in the bosom of our society are found exactly in the former condition, on account of the small development of their intellectual and affective faculties. Praise­ worthy actions spring by the side of detestable ones, and dispute with them the supremacy. It is only later, when man learns the profound abyss which exists between selfish and altruist sentiments, that he can only establish a rule of conduct. “ Such a rule,” says M. Littré, “ which appears a very light bridle to repress the passions, is nevertheless invincible. Its force is in nature, which has created it; and even by this it can never be annihilated, but is always maintained. Fixed in the mind and become a moral force, it takes where it is violated the form of remorse in the individual, the form of reprobation in opinion, and the form of punishment in society and among humanity.” f < According as humanity grows and develops, it forms intermediate associations of sentiments and rules, which determine and characterize the different moralities arising in the advance of the ages. It is thus * Unfortunately every-day business concerns place us in contact with too many of such selfish natures. f “ La philosophie positive.” Revue, 1867, vol. i, p. 359. �GOOD AND EVIL. 157 that the moral sense, having a foundation wholly physiological and, as a result, constant, is none the less variable, according to times and peoples. We therefore see that, for morality as well as for human in­ telligence, there is a primitive state destitute of both. In the primitive epoch of humanity, the morality is as weak and faulty as the intelli­ gence is infantile. It has been only in the lapse of time that the senti­ ments have been developed, associated, and regulated, without having yet attained in our day either form or definite stability. Let us resume our researches into the origin of good and evil in the three philosophies we have passed in review. In the Theological school, free-will is a faculty of the soul, without control, and independent of our volition; or else the free-will is in God, and man is irrevocably predestined to act well or ill. In the first case we have only prayer, invocation of the Supreme Being to preserve us from evil, at last pun­ ishment or reward in eternity. In the second the bond-will absolves us always in the evil as well as in the good. In the Metaphysical school, as its principles always repose upon intimate causes, and not upon laws, the volitional faculty is synonymous with the faculty of an immaterial soul in the psychological properties of the brain. It is its absolute origin which destroys the concrete cause of the determining­ faculty of the volition in free-will. In the Positivist school, soul, free-will, volition, good, evil, and all the psychical faculties, are the simple result of the transformation of impressions from without and within, by a physiological elaboration in the nerve-cells of the brain into ideas and sentiments. Good and evil become thus unstable sentiments, while the two media (external and internal) undergo variations more or less considerable; and they can­ not be morally determined so long as these media have not taken their normal course—that is to say, so long as the sociological laws jire not definitely known and fully practised. Hitherto not a single example can be found where evil was not in certain circumstances the parent of good, or vice versa. The proverb that “ there is no evil which may not become a good,” has here its most brilliant confirmation. . In the Positive Philosophy, instead of having recourse to personal or divine absolution always at hand to give us peace, in order to fall anew into the same sin, our rule of conduct and our moral force, in a word, are powerfully rooted in the noble remorse for a bad deed, while in the reprobation of public opinion we impose a punishment from the hands of society and entire humanity, much keener than the vain absolutions, punishments, and rewards, personal and selfish, beyond the grave. Let it be particularly noted that what we have said above about psychical phenomena, and about the transformation within the nerve­ cells of the brain of external and internal impressions into ideas and sentiments—that all this is by no means Materialism in the sense of the ancient school of Epikurus, of Condillac, of Locke, of D’Holbach, �158 • t GOOD AND EVIL. and of Buchner in our own days. They are simply facts of observa­ tion, experiment, and comparison, obtained by modern anatomy and physiology. Following the diverse vibrations suffered by inert matter, do we not see as remarkable effects produced in the thousand properties of heat, light, sound, electricity, and magnetism ? Are not the physical proper­ ties of inorganic matter as marvelous as the psychical properties of organic matter ? Here, as in the cerebral mass, it is always the inor­ ganic or organic matter which is manifested under the impulse of a form of vibration determined in the diverse properties—physical, vital, and psychical. Thus in fine we are in possession of three grand series of funda­ mental properties of matter. First—Universal Gravitation, which is an immanent principle of matter inorganic or inert. Second—Life, which is an immanent principle of matter organic or animated. Third —Intelligence and Affection, which form the immanent principle of nervous or thinking matter. Having signalized the origin of good and evil according to theolog­ ical, metaphysical and positive interpretations, let us now proceed to establish the static and dynamic laws which govern the theory of hu­ man reason. Hippokrates and Aristotle have shown that there is nothing in the intelligence which has not come from sensation. This law was later badly interpreted by the materialists, who suppressed the intelligence and only admitted the impression of sensation. Leibnitz rectified the primitive law by saying that there are outside of us facts which we perceive by our senses. But if we do not wish, like idiots, to contem­ plate uselessly these facts, we must connect them together in order to construct theories and establish laws. This concurrence between the brain anc! the world for the formation of any notion whatever, has been established above in the distinction between subjective and objective. Completing Hippokrates, Aristotle and Leibnitz by Kant, Auguste Comte has in fine established that the mind is not and cannot be pas­ sive in its relations to the world, and that the state of the subject causes always a modification in the appreciation of the object. All our conceptions being at the same time objective and subjective, Comte has thus established his first intellectual and static law: that “our subjective constructions are always subordinated to our objective materials.” But as in our greater flights of imagination we never cease to draw from without the materials with which to construct our fancies, this first law applies as well to the state of madness as to that of sanity. In order that the internal may be subordinate to the external, it is not sufficient that the foundation of our thought comes from sensation, the sensation must preponderate. Hence Comte’s second law is that “ the internal images are less vivid and exact than the external impres­ sions whence they emanate.” �GOOD A ND EVIL. 159 “ It is thus alone,” adds Comte, “ that a veritable subordination of the brain to its truly preponderant medium can be established. With­ out such a condition the mental intercourse of man with the world ad­ mits of no fixed rule. For our internal impulses come always to dis­ turb our external impressions, being on the point, at times, of over­ whelming our weaker appreciation.” * Nevertheless this second static law does not altogether complete the normal state of the understand­ ing, for any object whatever may create, according to the diversity of circumstances, many different images. If these images, for example, though all inferior to their corresponding impressions, were notwith­ standing equal to each other, there would result in the mind an insur­ mountable confusion. This is what takes place in symptoms of insan­ ity. Comte’s third law following is still necessary : that “ the normal image is more vivid than those which the cerebral action brings simul­ taneously into existence.” The static theory of human reason is finally completed by these three laws. The within ceases to have power to disturb the without, but on the contrary yields to its necessary preponderance. The external order becomes thus, by its relation to the brain, an aliment, a stimulant and a regulator, as it does toward all other classes of biological phenomena. As every judgment we form results from a certain medley of ob­ jective impressions and subjective elaboration, we must inquire what is the exact degree of each of the two elements constituting the normal state. This .degree cannot be rigorously fixed, seeing that there is no precise boundary between reason and madness, health and sickness. The existence of a being allows of variations within certain limits, and it is only when their extent is overpassed that it becomes impossible. But we can fix an ideal mean around which the reality oscillates. This mean which the human reason always tend's to approach, furnishes us the logical law of the First Philosophy, so well forecast by Bacon, which consists in this new law of Comte, prescribing us “ to construct always the simplest hypothesis permitted by the facts.” Seeing that all our theories must finally end in representing the world as it is, the brain will become, as far as possible, a faithful mirror of the external order. But to see things as they are, it must be deprived of all exaggerated sentiments of malevolence, and even of benevolence. We say with reason that hate is blind, but we also say it of love, which amounts to the recognition that all excessive passion hinders us from seeing justly, and forces us to make complex hypo­ theses, either to condemn or to absolve. But as the mind, in a state of unity, can think only under an affective impulse, selfish or altruist, positive logic prescribes us to guard especially the malevolent impulses, which are the most violent and imperious. The influence of benevo­ lence is likely to become exaggerated only in case of madness, when * “ Systeme de Politique positive,” t. iii, p. 19. �160 / GOOD AND EVIL. the mind ceases to be the minister of the heart, in order to become its slave. So, to be as simple as possible, Comte has established as an complement to the anterior logical law, that “ our hypotheses must be stripped as much of malevolence as of benevolence?’ The ensemble of the three static laws with the logical law of the first philosophy and its affective complement just given, only furnish the character of human reason in opposition to madness, but not the * stability of opinions whence it emanates. If the opinions were unstable (even the variations they suffer by more extended observation, or by the changes to which age makes our sentiments yield), or if they were not submitted to any law, they would then be arbitrarily free. This dynamic law which is connected with the intellectual development of the human mind, was also discovered by Comte and formulated in these terms: “ All human conceptions pro­ ceed from the theological or fictional state to the positive or scientific state by passing through the metaphysical or abstract state?’ Considered by itself, this law at first appears inexact. In fact, we see illustrious geniuses recognizing the existence of a superior volition, and bowing before it, while almost all our contemporaries are at the same time theologians or metaphysicians in politics, and positivists in geometry or chemistry. Does the normal state of our intelligence con­ sist in employing different methods, according to the nature of the subject of which we treat ? A second complementary law resolves this apparent contradiction : it is the law of the classification of our abstract conceptions into six philosophies of the irreducible sciences, according to the complexity and specialty increasing, or the simplicity and generality decreasing of the phenomena with which each of them deal. The intelligence is thus conducted from the simplest and most general speculations to those most complex and special, in the hierarchal order of the Sciences fol­ lowing, established by Comte: mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology, and sociology, (this last comprehending psychology, esthetics, ideology, and morality.) The first four sciences embrace the study of the cosmological Medium, or inorganic creation, and the two latter the vital and social Medium, or organic creation. Mathematics, astronomy, physics, and chemistry being the simplest, are the earliest emancipated from all supernatural and metaphysical intervention. Among those who the most resolutely invoke divine mediation in human affairs, no one pretends to deprive a railway train of all velocity by means of prayer. On .the contrary, in biological or sociological phenomena, confined especially to psychol­ ogy, or the intelligence and affections, by their greater complexity, theology and metaphysics are yet deeply rooted. * Eugène Sémérie., “ Des Symptômes intellectuels de la folie.”—Thèse. Paris, 1867. �GOOD AND EVIL. 161 The different degrees of velocity with which each science, according to its complexity, is susceptible of attaining its final state of positivity, is a capital fact which confirms beyond a doubt the exactness of the dynamic law' of the three phases of human intelligence in the inter­ pretation of natural phenomena. But from the moment that the positive method has furnished us the true psychological and sociological laws, these theological and metaphysical phantoms disappear from the sciences never to return. The creation of the sociological and moral sciences conducts us then to mental unity by a complete cerebral harmony, or, in other words, to the stability of ideas by the Positive Philosophy, replacing definitely the two primitive philosophies. The study upon the origin of good and evil which we have termi­ nated, is at the same time positive and negative. Positive, by the physiological and psychical laws we have established; negative, by the relative impotence in which we remain for want of a sufficient number of laws to fix the true limits which separate good and evil. But a great truth has been irrevocably acquired: 1st, that the intel­ lectual and affective faculties have their single and sole seat in the brain, where they are united by bonds of strict and intimate solidarity; 2d, that the affections arise from internal instinctive impressions, while the ideas or intelligence are derived from external sensorial impressions; and 3d, that the instinctive or affective impressions are of two orders: those appertaining to the instincts for preserving the life of the indi­ vidual, and those relating to the instincts for preserving the life of the species. The first are beyond a certain limit selfish, and the second are always altruist, • After the affective and spontaneous faculties of the brain which constitute human morality, follow the intellectual faculties and rules which determine human reason. Between these two is placed a third order of faculty, called esthetic or emotional. The reason being merely outlined, morality in our day is in only an embryonic state. Good and evil depend upon false and true, that is to say, upon intellectual reasoning. We do ewl because we have a false idea of the true, in the same way that we do good because we have a true idea of the false. In the state of mental anarchy in which society is sunk, we frequently confound the noblest sentiments with the basest passions. For- example, impersonal pride is mistaken for personal self­ ishness. We should only be proud of a noble and just action in the unique interest of goodness, as it relates to our fellow-beings; but if this pride has no other aim than our own satisfaction, what in the first case was a legitimate virtue, in the other degenerates into un­ worthy self-love. Should one be badly appreciated in his noble im­ personal pride, he must never blame the author without taking into account the extenuating and powerful circumstances which often, alas! are but very fallacious. After a disappointment, one can only pity the 21 �162 GOOD AND EVIL. object of his attachment, not by high disdain, but by compelling him to return to better sentiments. In a word, pride can become a noble and pure passion only on condition of forgetting itself. We have taken as an example pride, because it is at once the noblest and the vilest of passions, according to the use, good or bad, legitimate or illegitimate, which is made of it, and according as personal selfishness or imper­ sonal altruism predominates. Thus evil limits good, and they are transmitted, the one into the other, in the form of perturbation, with­ out which we cannot seize the true law which governs these two ex­ treme terms. The cause is very plain: in the affective faculties biology is not ad­ vanced enough to furnish us the law of the instincts for the preserva­ tion of individual life, and sociology is too much in its infancy to give us the law of the instincts for the preservation of the species-life. Do we not perceive in this ensemble of incontestable facts that Morality is yet in process of creation by the sole means of human reason ? In a second part we will regard good and evil from the dynam­ ical stand-point, its evolution and periodical recurrences. In the first case we have applied Broussais’s law upon the assimilation of the pathological state to the physiological (or health), the former differ­ ing only in a greater amplitude from the normal state which then degenerates into perturbation. In the same way the psychical facul­ ties of the nerve-cells of the brain may be exalted from the normal state or the good to. the perturbed state or the evil. So the origin of evil is .an exaggeration of the good. In the second place I will show how the periodical recurrences of astronomical and physical phenom­ ena, also occurs in morality, as well in the individual as in society. As in the physical, so the more complex moral phenomena are, the more difficult it is to foresee the period of revolution, and the cycle is more extended. The same relation exists between eclipses and comets of very long periods. The last part of this work is en­ tirely personal, although its principles are more or less based upon those of the Positive Philosophy. September, 1869. �A THE three mental crises OF AUGUSTE COMTE. BY PROF. ANDRÉ POËY. LITTRÉ has charged Auguste Comte, since his death, with having changed the method in the elaboration of his two great works. In his Philosophic positive the ob­ jective method presides, while in his Politique positive, on the contrary, the subjective method principally reigns. * M. Littré finds the cause which drove Comte into the subjective method in a purely psychological effect—in a word, in a mental crisis experienced by him in 1845, preceded and followed by the following circumstances: “Since he finished in 1842,” says he, “the Systeme de philoso­ phic positive, he never ceased to revolve in his mind his promised book upon positive politics. Yet, not until 1845 were its character and plan settled. This initial elaboration of his second great work (Comte’s own expression) coincided with a grave nervous illness.” f M. Littré cites afterwards two of Comte’s letters to Mr. J. S. Mill, of June 27, 1845, and May 6, 1846. In tlm first, Comte speaks of in­ teresting details (necessarily deferred) upon a grave nervous illness, pro­ duced, doubtless, by the resumption of his philosophical composition, which occurred some days after his last letter (May 15). M. Littré remarks that this letter is mysterious; that one does not promise interesting details upon a fever or fluxion ; but that this was really a crisis in which Comte’s mind suffered profound impressions and durable modifications. He finds this plainly set forth in the fol­ lowing extract from his second letter to Mill: “. . . . The decisive invasion of this virtuous passion (for Mme. Clotilde de Vaux) coincided last year with the initial elaboration of my second great work. You can thus imagine the true gravity of a nervous crisis, up to the present imperfectly known, in which I have run a true cerebral risk, and from the forcible personal recollections of which I have been happily saved, without any vain medical interference ...” In this second letter Comte speaks, not of an illness, but of a ner­ vous disease. Before 1845, this disease was indeterminate, adds M. M * “ Auguste Comte et la Philosophie positive.” Paris, 1863, p. 126. f Id., pp. 580-591. �164 T H JE THREE MENTAL CRISES Littré. “ But the fatiguing effort of thought, as it neared completion, encountered the impassioned love inspired by Mme. de Vaux. From , this time the disease took a determinate form, impressing the seal of sentiment upon the conception elaborated. So, between pro­ found meditation ruling his intellect, and passionate tenderness capti­ vating his heart, the obstacles which had hitherto stopped him disap­ peared, the scales fell from his eyes, and the subjective method appeared to him a luminous guide which introduced him at the most distant future to a humanity altogether devoted to love. From this time his work was traced throughout; it was only a question of deduction and combination ; and what greater mind for concatenating and following out combinations ever existed than his ? ” Such are the only proofs brought forward by M. Littré on Comte’s mental crisis of 1845. His physician and one of his three testament­ ary executors, Dr. Robinet, does not mention it in his life of Comte. Mr. Lewes’ objection to Littré is very inconclusive. It is that, if the great crisis of 1826 had no deleterious effect upon the Positive Philos­ ophy, how could the trivial one of 1845, even granted that it took place (for Lewes doubts it) vitiate his subsequent constructions ? * He appears to think that all cerebral crises are of like character and have similar effects. This is improbable, and Comte himself, in the present instance, asserts the contrary, as will be seen below. To solve this delicate question, it will suffice to refer to Comte him­ self, which Littré and Lewes have not done. If they had, they would have seen, in an affectionate profession de foi, addressed to Clotilde de Vaux, August 5, 1845 (two months aftei' his last nervous illness), that Comte himself acknowledges three cerebral crises, determining their ch aranteristics and their influences upon his philosophical elaboration. He traces with a steady hand his life, past and future, public and private, and invokes his love, to finish his task. These three crises took place in 1826, 1838, and 1845. This extract from Comte establishes their existence. “To conceive more clearly the true general relations of the two crises which circumscribe the only part of my past career, public or private, directly interesting to you, it will be useful to indicate a kind of intermediate crisis of less pro­ nounced character but of similar nature, determined in 1838, by pass­ ing from the purely scientific preamble of my great philosophical construction to the biological element which definitively constitutes it.” In fact, the third volume of the Positive Philosophy, closing with Biology, bears date of February 24, 1838, and its fourth, volume, with the dogmatic part of social Philosophy, is dated December 23, 1838. From these two dates, his second crisis occurred in this interval of nine months. Comte, in continuation, determines its happy influence upon his * “ The Fortnightly Review.” 1866, vol. iii, p. 403. �01’ AUGUSTE COMTE. 165 philosophical conception, in the following words : “ Although in this second and principal half of that prolonged task, the social standpoint had to remain almost wholly speculative, and hence could not tend to develop in me so powerfully as at present the affective needs, still thai epoch forms a remarkable phase in so intimate a history of my double existence. Its principal marked result consisted in a vivid and perma­ nent stimulation of my taste for the different Fine Arts, especially poetry and music, which then received a considerable increase. You feel immediately the spontaneous affinity with my ulterior tendency towards a life principally affective ; and further, it very happily im­ proved my work in all relating to the esthetic evolution of humanity. In domestic affairs, this period has some interest as also intermediate between two essential crises ; for I ceased then, for the first time, solic­ iting, while still permitting a postponement of a temporary separation,and signified my firm resolution of making in the future any similar occurrence irrevocable.” Comte finishes the estimation of these three crises by a singular property which has much assisted him in the clear remembrance of them. One of his small philosophical secrets is to consolidate and aid every intellectual or affective improvement by joining it with some phys­ ical improvement, directed especially towards the continual improvement of the diet. “ From this principle,” says he, “ is derived all the essentials of the positive theory of sacraments, of which priestly empiricism feels confusedly the bearing, as physical signs of different degrees of spiritual progress. In the same way I can say that the three essential crises of my double personal evolution, in the years 1826, 1838, and 1845, are rendered familiarly sacred to me by the durable dietetic symptom that I have definitely abstained, at first from coffee, next from tobacco, and now from wine. Such are, my dear friend, the different secret indica­ tions which complete the ostensible part of my difficult explanation of the new character, public and private, belonging to the second half of my career.” * Thus, beyond any question, Comte’s three mental crises are fully acknowledged by himself. The psychological study which he made upon these affections is curious. Indeed, he states in his public covrses and in his second work the valuable observation made upon his own cerebral illness of 1826. An empiric treatment, he says, which pro­ longed the disturbance for eight months, permitted him the better to estimate its different states. He was able to doubly verify his “ law of three states,” which characterizes human evolution, by going through all its essential phases, at first inversely, then directly, without their order ever changing. These are his own words : “ The three months in which medical influence developed the illness made me gradually descend, from positi­ * “ Notice sur l’Œuvre et sur la Vie d’Auguste Comte,” par le Dr. Robinet. Paris, 1864, pp. 211-213. �66 THE THREE MENTAL CRISES vism to fetishism, stopping at monotheism, and longer at polytheism. In the five following months, according as my spontaneity, despite the remedies, restored normal life, I slowly reascended from fetishism to polytheism, and from it to monotheism, whence I promptly recovered my previous positivity. By procuring me a direct and decisive confir­ mation of my ‘ law of the three states,’ and making me more plainly feel the necessary relativity of all our knowledge, this terrible episode aided me in identifying myself more easily with any of the human phases. The assistance furnished by it to the whole of my historical meditations, makes me hope that suitably instructed readers can also utilize this summary indication of a memorable anomaly.” * These psychological studies upon the three mental crises of Comte deserve to be taken into serious consideration in our researches upon the faculties and psychical products of the nerve-cells of the brain. We deeply regret not having been able to consult the recent work of Dr. G. Audiffrent, which would probably have thrown great light upon this question.f It should always be remembered that these three crises had a very diverse influence upon Comte’s philosophical elaboration. In the first his ideas passed and repassed through the three great periods of theology, from monotheism to fetishism, stopping at the intermediary station of polytheism and vice versâ, until the return to his primitive positivity. It is, moreover, a curious fact that he has skipped, so to speak, the transitional phase of metaphysic, which he does not mention. In fiis second crisis, Comte suffered a first though small effusion of affection which he interprets as “ a vivid and perma­ nent stimulation of his taste for different Fine Arts, especially poetry and music.” At last, in his third crisis, this affection took colossal dimensions under the influence of his impassioned love for Clotilde de Vaux. “ Its influence was mystic,” says M. Littré, very truly, “ es­ pecially when death, which soon came, had consecrated the recollection ; and the mysticism was an aggravation of the subjective method.” J From this influence arose the fine inspiration of the Religion of Humanity, the principle of which I adopt as a moral power, but reject the form. Unfortunately, Comte returned in his last days to a positive theol­ ogy, personified in the Grand-Fetiche or the earth, the Grand-Milieu or space, and the Grand-Etre or humanity ; § nevertheless this positive trinity overpasses the limits of our poor human intelligence. “ Comte’s thought,” says M. Littré, “ wavered between fictions and chimeras ; but the idea of the cultus in the end excluded the first and imposed the second.” Comte’s reasoning is as follows : Subjectivity must prevail in the universal synthesis, and fetishism, having introduced it spontaneously, * “ Système de Politique positive.” Paris, 1853, vol. iii. p. 75. t “ Du cerveau et de l’innervation d’après Auguste Comte,” Paris, 1869,1 vol., 8vo. f Work cited, p. 583. § “ Synthèse subjective ” Paris, 1856. 8vo, pp. 840. �OF AUGUSTE G 0 AI T E. 167 it must reappear in the latest period of human evolution which re­ produces the initial type. The only difference is that the new fetish­ ism will be subordinated to natural laws which the old did not know. In this case we can apply to Comte his own judgment upon “ Vico’s aberrations in the strange theory of social circularity, by specially pro­ claiming the general superiority of the modern régime over the an­ cient.” * M. Littré remarks that this is a “ gratuitous assertion, the falsity of which is at once apparent, on applying it to biology, in which neither manhood nor old age reproduces infancy.” Still, it must be avowed there are many points of contact, yet unknown, be­ tween childhood and old age, and hence the saying to fall into infancy, specially applied to mental affections. Comte’s life presents three great periods, distinctly characterized : that of his philosophical construction, that of his political construc­ tion, and that of his religious construction. He was, despite himself, led insensibly from the first to the second, and from it to the third. In the first he established an objective philosophy for the first time, in the third he restored the primitive subjective philosophy, basing it upon laws more or less empirical or fictional, while in the second period his mind and heart wavered between the two methods, impelled by a supreme effort at harmonizing them. He sought a point of union be­ tween the subjective and the objective, between mind active and mind passive, according to Kant’s fine conception. His idea was grand but premature, and his task being placed beyond his power by fatal natural laws, he had to succumb before the force of circumstances—that is to say, through the failure of scientific data upon such complex problems. Still, the sociological and moral bases established by him remain im­ perishable, and will serve posterity as a foundation. The objective Philosophy remains intact, and in the third edition (1869) M. Littré asserts that the discoveries of forty years (since its first issue) have not altered the organizing principle of the Positive Philosophy.f Another century, and the great encyclopaedic series will receive its final corona­ tion. A fine law of nature also places an impassable limit to the human mind, according to the stage of intellectual progress attained by it. Kepler, after founding celestial geometry, failed in celestial dy­ namics, holding the theological conception that “ angels ” guided the movements of the stars. His successor, Descartes, also failed, holding the metaphysical conception in his renowned vortices. The positivity of celestial mechanics was only reached by Newton’s discovery of the law of universal Gravitation. I will conclude by saying that cerebral attacks, similar to Comte’s often occur. “ Many celebrated men,” adds M. Littré, “ have had men­ tal shocks which greatly modified their characters.” Saint Paul, on the way to Damascus, affords one of the most memorable examples. * Letter to J. S. Mill in “ Auguste Comte et la Philosophie positive,” by Littré, p. 460. f “ Preface d’un disciple,” p. vii. �168 THE THREE MENTAL CRISES. Mr. Lewes also says : “ There is nothing remarkable in the fact that Lucretius and Cowper wrote their immortal poems during the lucid intervals of frequent cerebral attacks. The philosophy of Lucretius has indeed been often affiliated on his in­ sanity ; but the sweet piety, the delicate humor, and the sustained excellence of Cowper have not been thus branded, and they show that the mind is lucid in its lucid intervals. The list of illustrious madmen is a long one. Lucretius, Mahomet, Loyola, Peter the Great, Haller, Newton, Tasso, Swift, Cowper, Donizetti, sponta­ neously occur as the names of men whose occasional eclipse by no means darkens the splendor of their achievements. To these we must add the name of Auguste Comte, assured that, if Newton once suffered a cerebral attack without thereby for­ feiting our veneration for the ‘ Principia ’ and the ‘ Optics,’ Comte may have like­ wise suffered without forfeiting his claims on our veneration for the ‘ Philosophic po­ sitive.’ But the best answer to this ignoble insinuation is the works themselves. If they are the products of madness, one could wish that madness were occasionally epidemic.” * These temporary cerebral perturbations of great men should in no wise astonish us, as we can trace their existence in Humanity according to the similar laws of physical and moral phenomena, individual and collective. In fact, in 1841, Auguste Comte pointed out that our opinions, while “ having ceased to be purely theological without being able to become wholly scientific, constitute the metaphysical state, regarded as a sort of transitional chronic malady, belonging to this impassable phase of our mental evolution, individual and collective.” f Comte, in 1852, de­ clared that, “ since the original dissolution of the ancient theocracies, modern anarchy constitutes only the last term of an immense perturbation.” Consequent­ ly, “ analyzed cerebrally, the occidental malady constitutes a chronic madness, es­ sentially intellectual but habitually complicated with moral reactions, and often accompanied with physical outbreaks.” J In fine, in 1855, he was still more explicit in his letter to Dr. Audiffrent, in which he resumes the synthetic theory of diseases by the sociological definition of the brain as an instrument for the action of the dead upon the living. Occidental anarchy constitutes a true disease consisting in a continuous insurrection of the living against the dead, which tends to produce a chronic disturbance of cerebral economy. Comte connects medicine with morality, by formulating the subjective definition of the brain thus : The double and perma­ nent placenta between man and Humanity. By “ double ” he means the two simul­ taneous orders of subjective relations to the past on one side, and to the future on the other. The gravity of the disease tends to break the placenta in two ways. § In accordance with these ideas of Comte, I propose the following definitions : “ Mental diseases result from a failure of moral unity between two cerebra, that is, between the individual cerebrum and the collective, between man and Human­ ity.” “ The mental diseases of nations result from a want of moral unity between the worn-out past and the developing future.” Individual moral perturbations, being more complex, depend simultaneously upon the collective moral perturbations of nations, and these upon those of Human­ ity at large. Though thirty years have elapsed, it would be impossible to trace with more fidelity the state of Europe in 1870. We are perhaps on the verge of a profound revolutionary crisis, occasioned by political chicanery, and this evening the ultima­ tum of the Emperor Napoleon to Prussia will decide the fate of Europe. Yes, anarchy of the heart and head is deeply rooted in the bosom of our families, in our political circles, on the rostrum, in our scientific institutions, at the church. We are everywhere rushing against the revolutionary debris, bequeathed to us by that portion of the eighteenth century which followed the great French crisis of 1789. Nothing can satisfy our desires, our doubts, and our restlessness, incessantly re­ newed. Always the same question without reply :—What can we do? This crisis will only be terminated by the installation of the new spiritual power demonstrated by science, in place of the old revealed and imposed power. On a future occasion, I will examine the reasons which may have caused Comte to change his method in Politics and in Religion, as well as the objections raised by M. Littré.* § * “ The Fortnightly Review.” 1866, vol. iii, p. 394. f “ Cours de Philosophie positive.” Vol. V, p. 277. ■ j “ Système de Politique positive.” Vol. II, pp. 458, 459. § Robinet, “Notice sur l’œuvre et sur la vie d’Auguste Comte.” Paris, 1864, p 533. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. 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Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [American News Company] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1870] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5421 Subject The topic of the resource Ethics Evil Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Good and evil - their origin), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Good and Evil https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/d161a8434ce52b7bfc3077828b6e4b46.pdf?Expires=1782345600&Signature=utqkg2rlzkh1cySas2secqlFONU-7M0j3xo1p2gRmo6TH8UCWQPKvtcZ2qk60V3%7ET31bboO3bGM7rEsvb9191yB3vMkRQ8HNy8meTvgkGypNj3bBQEF0VcAzH18-j6NTafp7dwGd7hM9nKX-i0I6Xd-tvBeYgg1XHQ6tzjkQbyqxMJrokXuqjBNJRHNuX5V1Nc7ENNTiryR2OnlFRDVhHX2evM5uX2U5tLyYAFXsW1GgtzNzLpS3Vt84TcL6JD%7Ev7KXRK6Z-jhokMM-cCxiBBbSX%7EGlqr6RJMA0hVZV2IdAh4xpeZAlzVyByIfWkjpHYLU5PY0SdsLKkRik2T8ytvQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 04901e957aca8fec1424c79e0ecb8c2b PDF Text Text THE LAST WORD ABOUT JESUS. BY JOHN FISKE. THE JESUS OF HISTORY* StW Jill the great founders of religions, Jesus is at once the best .1 1 known and the least known to the modern scholar. From / the dogmatic point of view he is the best known, from the historic point of view he is the least known. The Jesus of dogma is in every lineament familiar to us from early childhood ; but concerning the Jesus of history we possess but few facts resting upon trustworthy evidence ; and in order to form a picture of him at once consistent, probable, and distinct in its outlines, it is necessary to enter upon a long and difficult investigation, in the course of which some of the most delicate apparatus of modern criticism will not fail to be re­ quired. This circumstance is sufficiently singular to require especial * explanation. The case of Sakyamuni, the founder of Buddhism, which may perhaps be cited as parallel, is in reality wholly different. Not only did Sakyamuni live five centuries earlier than Jesus, among a people that have at no time possessed the art of insuring authenticity in their records of events, and at an era which is at best but dimly dis­ cerned through the mists of fable and legend, but the work which be achieved lies wholly out of the course of European history, and it is only in recent times that his career has presented itself to us as a problem needing to be solved. Jesus, on the other hand, appeared in an age which is familiarly and in many respects minutely known to us, and among a people whose fortunes we can trace with historic certainty for at least seven1 centuries previous to his birth ; while his life and achievements have probably had a larger share in directing the entire subsequent intellectual and moral development of Europe than those of any other man who has ever lived. Nevertheless, the details of his personal career are shrouded in an obscurity almost as dense as that which envelops the life of the remote founder of Buddhism. * The Jesus of History (Anonymous). 8vo, pp. 426. London : Williams & Norgate, 1869. New York : Scribner, Welford & Co. Vie De Jesus, par Ernest Renan. Paris, 1867. (Thirteenth edition, revised and partly rewritten.) �10 THE J ES US OF HISTORY. This phenomenon, however, appears less strange and paradoxical when we come to examine it more closely. A little reflection will dis­ close to us several good reasons why the historical records of the life of Jesus should be so scanty as they are. In the first place, the activity of Jesus was private rather than public. Confined within exceedingly narrow limits, both of space and of duration, it made no impression whatever upon the politics or the literature of the time. His name does not occur in the pages of any contemporary writer, Roman. Greek, or Jewish. Doubtless the case would have been wholly different, had he, like Mohammed, lived to a ripe age, and had the exigencies of his peculiar position as the Messiah of the Jewish people brought him into relations with the empire; though whether, in such case, the success of his grand undertaking would have been as complete as it has actually been, may well be doubted. Secondly, Jesus did not, like Mohammed and Paul, leave behind him authentic writings which might serve to throw light upon his mental development as well as upon the external facts of his career. Without the Koran and the four genuine Epistles of Paul, we should be nearly as much in the dark concerning these great men as we now are concerning the historical Jesus. We should be compelled to rely, in the one case, upon the untrustworthy gossip of Mussulman chron­ iclers, and in the other case upon the garbled statements.of the “ Acts of the Apostles,” a book written with a distinct dogmatic pui p *ose, sixty or seventy years after the occurrence of the events which it pro­ fesses to record. It is true, many of the words of Jesus, preserved by hearsay tradi­ tion through the generation immediately succeeding his death, have come down to us, probably with little alteration, in the pages of the three earlier evangelists. These are priceless data, since, as we shall see, they are almost the only materials at our command for forming even a partial conception of the character of Jesus’ work. .Neverthe­ less, even here the cautious inquirer has only too often to pause in face of the difficulty of distinguishing the authentic utterances ’of the great teacher from the later interpolations suggested by the dogmatic neces­ sities of the narrators. Bitterly must the historian regret that Jesus had no philosophic disciple, like Xenophon, to record his Memorabilia. Of the various writings included in the New Testament, the Apocalypse alone (and possibly the Epistle of Jude), is from the pen of a personal acquaintance of Jesus; and besides this, the four epistles of Paul, to the Galatians, Corinthians, and Romans, make up the sum of the writings from which we may demand contemporary testimony. Yet from these we obtain absolutely nothing of that for which we are seeking. The brief writings of Paul are occupied exclusively with the internal significance of Jesus’ work. The epistle of Jude—if it be really written by Jesus’ brother of that name, which is doubtful—is solely a polemic directed against the innovations of Paul. And the �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 11 Apocalypse, the work of the fiery and imaginative disciple John, is con­ fined to a prophetic description of the Messiah’s anticipated return, and tells us nothing concerning the deeds of that Messiah while on the earth. Here we touch upon our third consideration,—the consideration which best enables us to see why the historic notices of Jesus are so meagre. Rightly considered, the statement with which we opened this article is its own explanation. The Jesus of history is so little known, just because the Jesus of dogma is so well known. Other teachers— Paul, Mohammed, Sakyamuni—have come merely as preachers of righteousness, speaking in the name of general principles with which their own personalities were not directly implicated. But Jesus, as we shall see, before, the close of his life, proclaimed himself to be some­ thing more than a preacher of righteousness. He announced himself— and justly, from his own point of view—as the long-expected Messiah sent by Jehovah to liberate the Jewish race. Thus the success of his religious teachings became at once implicated with the question of his personal nature and character. After the sudden and violent termina­ tion of his career, it immediately became all-important with his fol­ lowers to prove that he was really the Messiah, and to insist upon the certainty of his speedy return to the earth. Thus the first generation of disciples dogmatized about him, instead of narrating his life—a task which to them would have seemed of little profit. For them the allabsorbing object of contemplation was the immediate future rather than the immediate past. As all the earlier Christian literature informs us, for nearly a century after the death of Jesus, his followers lived in daily anticipation of his triumphant return to the earth. The end of all things being so near-at hand, no attempt was made to ensure accurate and complete memoirs for the use of a posterity which was destined, in Christian imagination, never to arrive. The first Christians wrote but little ; even Papias, at the end of a century, preferring second-hand or third-hand oral tradition to the written gospels which were then be­ ginning to come into circulation. Memoirs of the life and teachings of Jesus were called forth by the necessity of having a written stan­ dard of doctrine to which to appeal amid the growing differences of opinion which disturbed the Church. Thus the earlier gospels exhibit, though in different degrees, the indications of a modifying, sometimes of an overruling dogmatic purpose. There is, indeed, no conscious violation of historic truth, but from the varied mass of material sup­ plied by tradition, such incidents are selected as are fit to support the views of the writers concerning the personality of Jesus. Accordingly, while the early gospels throw a strong light upon the state of Christian opinion at the dates when they were successively composed, the infor­ mation which they give concerning Jesus himself is, for that very reason, often vague, uncritical, and contradictory. Still more is this true of the fourth gospel, written late in the second century, in which historic tradition is moulded in the interests of dogma until it becomes �12 THE JESUS OF HISTORY. no longer recognizable, and in the place of the human Messiah of the earlier accounts, we have a semi-divine Logos or zEon, detached from God and incarnate for a brief season in the likeness of man. Not only was history subordinated to dogma by the writers of the gospel-narratives, but in the minds of the Fathers of the Church who assisted in determining what writings should be considered canonical, dogmatic prepossession went very much further than critical acumen. Nor is this strange when we reflect that critical discrimination in questions of literary authenticity is one of the latest acquisitions of the cultivated human mind. In the early ages of the Church, the evidence of the genuineness of any literary production was never weighed critic­ ally ; writings containing doctrines acceptable to the majority of Chris­ tians, were quoted as authoritative, while writings which supplied no dogmatic want were overlooked, or perhaps condemned as apocryphal. A striking instance of this is furnished by the fortunes of the Apoca­ lypse. Although perhaps the best authenticated work in the New Testament collection, its millenarian doctrines caused it to become unpopular as the Church gradually ceased to look for the speedy return of the Messiah, and, accordingly, as the canon assumed a definite shape, it was placed among the “ Antilegomena,” or doubtful books, and continued to hold a precarious position until after the time of the Protestant Reformation. On the other hand, the fourth gospel, which was quite unknown and probably did not exist at the time of the Quartodeciman controversy (A. D. 168), was accepted with little hesi­ tation, and at the beginning of the third century is mentioned by Irenapus, Clement, and Tertullian, as the work of the Apostle John. To this uncritical spirit, leading to the neglect of such books as failed to answer the dogmatic requirements of the Church, may probably be attributed the loss of so many of the earlier gospels. It is doubtless for this reason that we do not possess the Aramaean original of the “Logia” of Matthew, or the “Memorabilia” of Mark, the companion of Peter,—two works to which Papias (A. D. 120) alludes as containing authentic reports of the utterances of Jesus. These considerations will, we believe, sufficiently explain the curious circumstance that, while we know the Jesus of dogma so intimately, we know the Jesus of history so slightly. The literature of early Christianity enables us to trace with tolerable completeness the progress of opinion concerning the nature of Jesus, from the time of Paul’s early missions to the time of the Nicene Council; but upon the actual words and deeds of Jesus it throws a very unsteady light. The dogmatic purpose everywhere obscures the historic basis. This same dogmatic prepossession which has rendered the data for a biography of Jesus so scanty and untrustworthy, has also until com­ paratively recent times prevented any unbiased critical examination of such data as we actually possess. Previous to the eighteenth century any attempt to deal with the life of Jesus upon purely historical �TSE JESUS OE BISTORT. 13 methods would have been not only contemned as irrational, but stig­ matized as impious. And even in the eighteenth century, those writers who had become wholly emancipated from ecclesiastic tradition were so destitute of all historic sympathy and so unskilled in scientific methods of criticism, that they utterly failed to comprehend the re­ quirements of the problem. Their aims were in the main polemic, not historical. They thought more of overthrowing current dogmas than of impartially examining the earliest Christian literature with a view of eliciting its historic contents; and, accordingly, they accomplished but little. Two brilliant exceptions must, however, be noticed. Spinoza, in the seventeenth century, and Lessing, in the eighteenth, were men far in advance of their age. They are the fathers of modern historical criticism; and to Lessing in particular, with his enormous erudition and incomparable sagacity, belongs the honor of initiating that method of inquiry which, in the hands of the so-called Tübingen School, has led to such striking and valuable conclusions concerning the age and character of all the New Testament Literature. But it was long before any one could be found fit to bend the bow which Lessing and Spinoza had wielded. A succession of able scholars—Semler, Eich­ horn, Paulus, Schleiermacher, Bretschneider, and De Wette,—were re­ quired to examine, with German patience and accuracy, the details of the subject, and to propound various untenable hypotheses, before such a work could be performed as that of Strauss. The “ Life of Jesus,” published by Strauss when only twenty-six years of age, is one of the monumental works of the nineteenth century, worthy to rank, as a historical effort, along with Niebuhr’s “ History of Rome,” Wolf’s “ Prolegomena,” or Bentley’s “ Dissertations on Phalaris.” It instantly superseded and rendered antiquated everything which had preceded it; nor has any work on early Christianity been written in Germany for the past thirty years which has not been dominated by the recollection of that marvelous book. Nevertheless, the labors of another genera­ tion of scholars have carried our knowledge of the New Testament literature far beyond the point which it had reached when Strauss first wrote. At that time the dates of but few of the New Testament writings had been fixed with any approach to certainty; the age and character of the fourth gospel, the genuineness of the Pauline epistles, even the mutual relations of the three Synoptics, were still undeter­ mined ; and, as a natural result of this uncertainty, the progress of dogma during the first century was ill understood. At the present day it is impossible to read the early work of Strauss without being im­ pressed with the necessity of obtaining positive data as to the origin and dogmatic character of the New Testament writings, before at­ tempting to reach any conclusions as to the probable career of Jesus. These positive data we owe to the genius and diligence of the Tübingen School, and, above all, to its founder, Ferdinand Christian Baur. Be­ ginning with the epistles of Paul, of which he distinguished four as �14 THE JESUS OE HISTORY. genuine, Baur gradually worked his way through the entire New Testament collection, detecting—with that inspired insight which only unflinching diligence can impart to original genius—the age at which each book was written, and the circumstances which called it forth. To give any account of Baur’s detailed conclusions, or of the method by which he reached them, would require a volume. They are very scantily presented in Mr. Mackay’s work on the “ Tübingen School and its Antecedents,” to which we may refer the reader desirous of further information. We can here merely say that twenty years of energetic controversy have only served to establish nearly all Baur’s leading conclusions more firmly than ever. The priority of the so-called gospel of Matthew, the Pauline purpose of “ Luke,” the second in date of our gospels, the derivative and second-hand character of “ Mark,” and the unapostolic origin of the fourth gospel, are points which may for the future be regarded as completely established by circumstantial evidence. So with respect to the pseudo-Pauline epistles, Baur’s work was done so thoroughly that the only question still left open for much discussion is that concerning the date and authorship of the first and second “ Thessalonians,”—a point of quite inferior importance, so far as our present subject is concerned. Seldom have such vast results been achieved by the labor of a single scholar. Seldom has any historical critic possessed such a combination of analytic and of co­ ordinating powers as Baur. His keen criticism and his wonderful flashes of insight, exercise upon the reader a truly poetic effect like that which is felt in contemplating the marvels of physical discovery. The comprehensive labors of Baur were followed up by Zeller’s able work on the “ Acts of the Apostles,” in which that book was shown to have been partly founded upon documents written by Luke, or some other companion of Paul, and expanded and modified by a much later writer with the purpose of covering up the traces of the early schism between the Pauline and the Petrine sections of the Church. Along with this, Schwegler’s work on the “ Post-Apostolic Times ” deserves mention as clearing up many obscure points relating to the early development of dogma. Finally,- the “New Life of Jesus,” by Strauss, adopting and utilizing the principal discoveries of Baur and his followers, and combining all into one grand historical pic­ ture, worthily completes the task which the earlier work of the same author had inaugurated. The reader will have noticed that, with the exception of Spinoza, every one of the names- above cited in connection with the literary analysis and criticism of the New Testament is the name of a German. Until xvithin the last decade, Germany has indeed possessed almost an absolute monopoly of the science of Biblical criticism ; other countries having remained not only unfamiliar with its methods, but even grossly ignorant of its conspicuous results, save when some German treatise of more than ordinary popularity has now and then been translated. �THE JESTS <iE HISTORY. 15 But during the past ten years France has entered the lists ; and the writings of Reville, Reuss, Nicolas, D’Eichthal, Scherer, and Colarie testify to the rapidity with which the German seed has fructified upon her soil. None of these books, however, have achieved such wide-spread celebrity, or done so much toward interesting the general public in this class of historical inquiries, as the “ Life of Jesus,” by Renan. This pre-eminence of fame is partly, but not wholly, deserved. From a •purely literary point of view, Renan’s work doubtless merits all the celebrity it has gained. Its author writes a style such as is perhaps equaled by that of no other living Frenchman. It is by far the most readable book which has ever been written concerning the life of Jesus. And no doubt some of its popularity is due to its very faults, which, from a critical point of view, are neither few nor small. • For Renan is certainly very faulty, as a historical critic, when he practically ignores the extreme meagreness of our positive knowledge of the career of Jesus, and describes scene after scene in his life as minutely and with as much confidence as if he had himself been present to witness it all. Again and again the critical reader feels prompted to ask, How do you know all this ? or why, out of two or three conflicting accounts, do you quietly adopt some particular one, as if its superior authority were self-evident ? But in the eye of the uncritical reader, these defects are excellences ; for it is unpleasant to be kept in ignorance when we are seeking after definite knowledge, and it is disheartening to read page after page of an elaborate discussion which ends in convincing us that .definite knowledge cannot be gained. In the thirteenth edition of the “Vie de Jesus,” Renan has cor­ rected some of the most striking errors of the original work, and in particular has, with praiseworthy candor, abandoned, his untenable position with regard to the age and character of the fourth gospel. As is well known, Renan, in his earlier editions, ascribed to this gospel a historical value superior to that of the synoptics, believing it to have been written by an eye-witness of the events which it relates; and from this source, accordingly, he drew the larger share of his mate­ rials. Now, if there is any one conclusion concerning the New Testa­ ment literature which must be regarded as incontrovertibly established by the labors of a whole generation of scholars, it is this, that the fourth gospel was utterly unknown until about A. D. 170, that it was written by some one who possessed very little direct knowledge of Palestine, that its purpose was rather to expound a dogma than to give an accurate record of events, and that as a guide to the comprehension of the career of Jesus it is of far less value than the three synoptic gospels. It is impossible, in a brief review like the present, to epito­ mize the evidence upon which this conclusion rests, which may more profitably be sought in the Rev. J. J. Tayleris work on “ The Fourth Gospel,” or in Davidson s “ Introduction to the New Testament.” It �16 THE JESUS OF HISTORY. must suffice to mention that this gospel is not cited by Papias; that Justin, Marcion, and Valentinus make no allusion to it, though, since it furnishes so much that is germane to their views, they would gladly have appealed to it, had it been in existence, when those view's were as yet questionable ; and that, finally, in the great quartodeciman contro­ versy, A. D. 168, the gospel is not only not mentioned, but the authority of John is cited by Polycarp in flat contradiction of the view after­ wards taken by this evangelist. Still more, the assumption of Renan led at once into complicated difficulties with reference to the Apoca­ lypse. The fourth gospel, if it does not unmistakably announce itself as the work of John, at least professes to be Johannine; and it cannot for a moment be supposed that such a book, making such claims, could have gained currency during John’s lifetime without calling forth his indignant protest. For, in reality, no book in the New Testament col­ lection would so completely have shocked the prejudices of the Johan­ nine party. John’s own views are well known to us from the Apoca­ lypse. John was the most enthusiastic of millenarians and the most narrow and rigid of Judaizers. In his antagonism to the Pauline innovations he went farther than Peter himself. Intense hatred of Paul and his followers appears in several passages of the Apocalypse, where they are stigmatized as “ Nicolai tans,” “ deceivers of the people,” “ those who say they are apostles and and are not,” “ eaters of meat offered to idols,” “ fornicators,” “pretended Jews,” “ liars,” “ synagogue of Satan,” etc. (Chap. II.) On the other hand, the fourth gospel con­ tains nothing millenarian or Judaical; it carries Pauline universalism to a far greater extent than Paul himself ventured to carry it, even condemning the Jews as children of darkness, and by implication con­ trasting them unfavorably with the Gentiles ; and it contains a theory of the nature of Jesus which the Ebionitish Christians, to whom John belonged, rejected to the last. In his present edition Renan admits the insuperable force of these objections, and abandons his theory of the apostolic origin of the fourth gospel. And as this has necessitated the omission or alteration of all such passages as rested upon the authority of that gospel, the book is to a considerable extent rewritten, and the changes are such as greatly to increase its value as a history of Jesus. Nevertheless, the author has so long been in the habit of shaping his conceptions of the career of Jesus by the aid of the fourth gospel, that it has become very diffi­ cult for him to pass freely to another point of view. He still clings to the hypothesis that there is an element of historic tradition contained in the book, drawn from memorial writings which had perhaps been handed down from John, and which were inaccessible to the synoptists. In a very interesting appendix, he collects the evidence in favor of this hypothesis, which indeed is not without plausibility, since there is * every reason for supposing that the gospel was written at Ephesus, which a century before had been John’s place of residence. But even �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 17 granting most of Renan’s assumptions, it must still follow that the authority of this gospel is far inferior to that of the synoptics, and can in no case be very confidently appealed to.“ The question is one of the first importance to the historian of early Christianity. In inquiring into the life of Jesus, the very first thing to do is to establish firmly in the mind the true relations of the fourth gospel to the first three. Until this has been done, no one is competent to write on the subject ; and it is because he has done this so imperfectly that Renan’s work is, from a critical point of view, so imperfectly successful. The anonymous work entitled “ The Jesus of History,” which we have placed at the head of this article, is in every respect noteworthy as the first systematic attempt made in England to follow in the foot­ steps of German criticism in writing a life of Jesus. We know of no good reason why the book should be published anonymously ; for as a historical essay it possesses extraordinary merit, and does great credit not only to its author, but to English scholarship and acumen. It is not, indeed, a book calculated to captivate the imagination of the read­ ing public. Though written in a clear, forcible, and often elegant style, it possesses no such wonderful rhetorical charm as the work of Renan ; and it will probably never find half-a-dozen readers where the “ Vie de Jésus ” has found a hundred. But the success of a book of this sort is not to be measured by its rhetorical excellence, or by its adaptation to the literary tastes of an uncritical and uninstructed public, but rather by the amount of critical sagacity which it brings to bear upon the elucidation of the many difficult and disputed points in the subject of which it treats. Measured by this standard, the “ Jesus of History” must rank very high indeed. To say that it throws more light upon the career of Jesus than any work which has ever before been written in English would be very inadequate praise, since the English language has been singularly deficient in this branch of historical literature.We shall convey a more just idea of its merits if we say that it will bear comparison with anything which even Germany has produced, save only the works of Strauss, Baur, and Zeller. The fitness of our author for the task which he has undertaken is shown at the outset by his choice of materials. In basing his con­ clusions almost exclusively upon the statements contained in the first gospel, he is upheld by every sound principle of criticism. The times and places at which our three synoptic gospels were written have been, through the labors of the Tiibingen critics, determined almost to a certainty. Of the three, “ Mark ” is unquestionably the latest ; with the exception of about twenty verses, it is entirely made up from “ Matthew ” and “ Luke,” the diverse Petrine and Pauline tendencies of which it strives to neutralize in conformity to the conciliatory dis­ position of the Church at Rome, at the epoch at which this gospel was written, about A. D. 130. Thé third gospel was âlsp written at Rome, some fifteen years earlier. In the preface, its author describes �18 THE JEEUE OE HIE To RY. it as a compilation from previously existing written materials. Among these materials was certainly the first gospel, several passages of which are adopted word for word by the author of “ Luke.” Yet the narra­ tive varies materially from that of the first gospel in many essential points. The arrangement of events is less natural, and, as in the “ Acts of the Apostles ” by the same author, there is apparent through­ out the design of suppressing the old discord between Paul and the Judaizing disciples, and of representing Christianity as essentially Pauline from the outset. How far Paul was correct in his interpreta­ tion of the teachings of Jesus, it is difficult to decide. It is, no doubt, possible that the first gospel may have lent to the words of Jesus an Ebionite coloring in some instances,' and that now and then the third gospel may present us with a truer account. To this supremely im­ portant point we shall by and by return. For the present it must suffice to observe that the evidences of an overruling dogmatic pur­ pose are generally much more conspicuous in the third synoptist than in the first; and that the very loose manner in which this writer has handled his materials in the “Acts” is not calculated to inspire us with confidence in the historical accuracy of his gospel. The writer who, in spite of the direct testimony of Paul himself, could represent the apostle to the Gentiles as acting under the direction of the dis­ ciples at Jerusalem, and who puts Pauline sentiments into the mouth of Peter, would certainly have been capable of unwarrantably giving a Pauline turn to the teachings of Jesus himself. We are therefore, as a last resort, brought back to the first gospel, which we find to possess, as a historical narrative, far stronger claims upon our attention than the second and third. In all probability it had assumed nearly its present shape before A. I). 100; its origin is unmistakably Pales­ tinian ; it betrays comparatively few indications of dogmatic purpose; and there are strong reasons for believing that the speeches of Jesus recorded in it are in substance taken from the genuine “ Logia ” of Matthew mentioned by Papias, which must have been written as early as A. D. 60-70, before the destruction of Jerusalem. Indeed, we are inclined to agree with our author that the gospel, even in its present shape (save only a few interpolated passages), may have existed as early as A. D. 80, since it places the time of Jesus’ second coming immediately after the destruction of Jerusalem; whereas the third evangelist, who wrote forty-five years after that event, is careful to tell us, “ The end is not immediately.” Moreover, it must have been written while the Paulo-Petrine controversy was still raging, as is shown by the parable of the “ enemy who sowed the tares,” which manifestly refers to Paul, and also by the allusions to “ false prophets,” (vii. 15,) to those who say, “ Lord, Lord,” and who “ cast out demons in the name of the Lord,” (vii. 21-23,) teaching men to break the commandinents, (v. 17-20.) There is, therefore, good reason for be­ lieving that we have here a narrative written not much more than fifty �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 19 years after the death of Jesus, based partly upon the written memorials of an apostle, and in the main trustworthy, save where it relates oc­ currences of a marvelous and legendary character. Such is our author’s conclusion, and in describing the career of the Jesus of his­ tory, he relies almost exclusively upon the statements contained in the first gospel. Let us now, after this long but inadequate introduction, give a brief sketch of the life of Jesus, as it is to be found in our author. II. Concerning the time and place of the birth of Jesus, we know next to nothing. According to uniform tradition, based upon a statement of the third gospel, he was about thirty years of age at the time when he began teaching. The same gospel states, with elaborate precision, that the public career of John the Baptist began in the fifteenth year of Tiberius, or A. D. 28. In the winter of A. D. 35-36, Pontius Pilate was recalled from Judaea, so that the crucifixion could not have taken place later than in the spring of 35. Thus we have a period of about six years during which the ministry of Jesus must have begun and ended; and if the tradition with respect to his age be trustworthy, we shall not be far out of the way in supposing him to have been born somewhere between B. C. 5 and A. D. 5. He is everywhere alluded to in the gospels as Jesus of Nazareth in Galilee, where lived also his father, mother, brothers and sisters, and where very likely he was born. His parents’ names are said to have been Joseph and Mary. His own name is a Hellenized form of Joshua, a name very common among the Jews. According to the first gospel (xiii. 55), he had four brothers,— Joseph and Simon; James, who was afterward^ one ** of the heads of the church at Jerusalem, and the most formidable enemy of Paul; and Judas or Jude, who is perhaps the author of the anti-Pauline epistle commonly ascribed to him. Of the early youth of Jesus, and of the circumstances which guided his intellectual development, we know absolutely nothing, nor have we the data requisite for forming any plausible hypothesis. He first appears in history about A. D. 29 or 30, in connection with a very remarkable person whom the third evangelist describes as his cousin, and who seems, from his mode of life, to have been in some way con­ nected with or influenced by the Hellenizing sect of Essenes. Here we obtain our first clue to guide us in forming a consecutive theory of the development of Jesus’ opinions. The sect of Essenes took its rise in the times of the Maccabees, about B. C. 170. Upon the funda­ mental doctrines of Judaism it had engrafted many Pythagorean notions, and was doubtless in the time of Jesus instrumental in spreading Greek ideas among the people of Galilee, whei^ Judaism was far from being so narrow and rigid as at Jerusalem. The Essenes �20 THE JESUS OF HISTORY. •attached but little importance to the Messianic expectations of the Pharisees, and mingled scarcely at all in national politics. They lived for the most part a strictly ascetic life, being indeed the legitimate pre­ decessors of the early Christian hermits and monks. But while pre­ eminent for sanctity of life, they heaped ridicule upon the entire sacrificial service of the Temple, despised the Pharisees as hypocrites, and insisted upon charity toward all men instead of the old. Jewish exclusiveness. It was once a favorite theory that both John the Baptist and Jesus were members of the Essenian brotherhood; but that theory is now generally abandoned. Whatever may have been the case with John, who is said to have lived like an anchorite in the desert, there seems to have been but little practical Essenism in Jesus, who is almost uni­ formly represented as cheerful and social in demeanor, and against whom it was expressly urged that he came eating and drinking, making no pretence of puritanical holiness. He was neither a puritan, like the Essence, nor a ritualist, like the Pharisees. Besides-which, both John and Jesus seem to have begun their careers by preaching the un-Essene doctrine of the speedy advent of the “ kingdom of heaven,” by which is meant the reign of the Messiah upon the earth. Nevertheless, though we cannot regard Jesus as actually a member of the Essenian commu­ nity or sect, we can hardly avoid the conclusion that he, as well as John the Baptist, had been at some time strongly influenced by Es­ senian doctrines. The spiritualized conception of the “kingdom of heaven” proclaimed by him was just what would naturally and logi­ cally arise from a remodeling of the Messianic theories of the Phar­ isees in conformity to advanced Essenian notions. It seems highly probable that some such refined conception of the functions of the Messiah was reached by John, who, stigmatizing the Pharisees and Sadducees as a “generation of vipers,” called aloud to the people to re­ pent of their sins, in view of the speedy advent of the Messiah, and to testify to their repentance by submitting to the Essenian rite of bap­ tism. There is no positive evidence that Jesus was ever a disciple of John; yet the account of the baptism, in spite of the legendary char­ acter of its details, seems to rest upon a historical basis; and perhaps the most plausible hypothesis which can be framed is, that Jesus re­ ceived baptism at John’s hands, became for awhile his disciple, and acquired from him a knowledge of Essenian doctrines. The career of John seems to have been very brief. His stern puritanism brought him soon into disgrace with the government of Galilee. He was seized by Herod, thrown into prison, and beheaded. After the brief hints given as to the intercourse between Jesus and John, we next hear of Jesus alone in the desert, where, like Sakyamuni and Moham­ med, he may have brooded in solitude over his great project. Yet we do not find that he had as yet formed any distinct conception of his own Messiahship. The total neglect of chronology by our authorities �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 21 renders it impossible to trace the development of his thoughts step by step; but for some time after John’s catastrophe we find him calling upon the people to repent, in view of the speedy approach of the Mes­ siah, speaking with great and commanding personal authority, but using no language which would indicate that he was striving to do more than worthily fill the place and add to the good work of his late master. The Sermon on the Mount, which the first gospel inserts in this place, was probably never spoken as a continuous discourse; but it no doubt for the most part contains the very words of Jesus, and repre­ sents the general spirit of his teaching during this earlier portion of his career. In this is contained nearly all that has made Christianity so powerful in the domain of ethics. If all the rest of the gospel were taken away, or destroyed in the night of some future barbarian inva­ sion, we should still here possess the secret of the wonderful impression which Jesus made upon those who heard him speak. Added to the Essenian scorn of Pharisaic formalism, and the spiritualized conception of the Messianic kingdom, which Jesus may probably have shared with John the Baptist, we have here for the first time the distinctively Christian conception of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of men, which ultimately insured the success of the new religion. The special point of originality in Jesus was his conception of Deity. As Strauss well says, “ he conceived of God, in a moral point of view, as being identical in character with himself in the most exalted moments of his religious life, and strengthened in turn his own religious life by this ideal. But the most exalted religious tendency in his own con­ sciousness was exactly that comprehensive love, overpowering the evil only by the good, and which he therefore transferred to God as the fundamental tendency of His nature.” From this conception of God, observes Zeller, flowed naturally all the moral teaching of Jesus; the insistance upon spiritual righteousness instead of the mere mechanical observance of Mosaic precepts; the call to be perfect even as the Father is perfect; the principle of the spiritual equality of men before God and the equal duties of all men toward each other. How far, in addition to these vitally important lessons, Jesus may have taught doctrines of an ephemeral or visionary character, it is very difficult to decide. We are inclined to regard the third gospel as of some importance in settling this point. The author of that gospel rep­ resents Jesus as decidedly hostile to the rich. Where Matthew has “ Blessed are the. poor in spirit,” Luke has “ Blessed are ye poor.” In the first gospel we read, “ Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they will be filled; ” but in the third gospel we find, “ Blessed are ye that hunger now, for ye will be filled; ” and this assur­ ance is immediately followed by the denunciation, “ Woe to you that are rich, for ye have received your consolation! Woe to you that are full now, for ye will hunger.” The parable of Dives and Lazarus illus­ trates concretely this view of the case, which is still further corroborated �22 THE JESUS OF HISTORY. by the account, given in both the first and the third gospels, of the young man who came to seek everlasting life. Jesus here maintains that righteousness is insufficient unless voluntary poverty be super­ added. Though the young man has strictly fulfilled the greatest of the commandments—»to love his neighbor as himself—he is required, as a needful proof of his sincerity, to distribute all his vast possessions among the poor. And when he naturally manifests a reluctance to perform so superfluous a sacrifice, Jesus observes that it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to share in the glories of the anticipated Messianic kingdom. It is difficult to escape the conclusion that we have here a very primitive and probably authentic, tradition; and when we remember the importance which, according to the “ Acts,” the earliest disciples attached to the principle of communism, as illustrated in the legend of Ananias and Sapphira,.we must admit strong reasons for believing that Jesus him­ self held views which tended toward the abolition of private property. On this point, the testimony of the third evangelist singly is of consid­ erable weight; since at the time when he wrote, the communistic the­ ories of the first generation of Christians had been generally abandoned, and in the absence of any dogmatic motives, he could only have inserted these particular traditions because he believed them to possess histori­ cal value. But we- are not dependent on the third gospel alone. The story just cited is attested by both our authorities, and is in perfect keeping with the general views of Jesus as reported by the first evan­ gelist. Thus his disciples are enjoined to leave all, and follow him; to take no thought for the morrow; to think no more of laying up treas­ ures on the earth, for in the Messianic kingdom they shall have treas­ ures in abundance, which can neither be wasted nor stolen. On making their journeys, they are to provide neither money, nor clothes, nor food, but are to live at the expense of those whom they visit; and if any town refuse to harbor them, the Messiah, on his arrival, will deal with that town more severely than Jehovah dealt with the cities of the plain. Indeed, since the end of the world was to come before the end of the generation then living (Matt. xxiv. 34; 1 Cor. xv. 51-56; vii, 29), there could be no need for acquiring property or making arrangements for the future; even marriage became unnecessary. These teachings of Jesus have a marked Essenian character, as well as his declaration that in the Messianic kingdom there was to be no more marriage, per­ haps no distinction of sex (Matt. xxii. 30). The sect of Ebionites, who represented the earliest doctrine and practice of Christianity before it had been modified by Paul, differed from the Essenes in no essential respect save in the acknowledgment of Jesus as the Messiah, and the expectation of his speedy return to the earth. How long, or with what success, Jesus continued to preach the coming of the Messiah in Galilee, it is impossible to conjecture. His fellow-townsmen of Nazareth appear to have ridiculed him in his pro­ �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 23 phetical capacity; or, if we may trust the third evangelist, to have arisen against him with indignation, and made an attempt upon his life. To them he was but a carpenter, the son of a carpenter (Matt, xiii. 55 ; Mark vi. 3), who told them disagreeable truths. Our author represents his teaching in Galilee to have produced but little result, but the gospel narratives afford no definite data for deciding this point. We believe the most probable conclusion to be that Jesus did attract many followers, and became famous throughout Galilee ; for Herod is said to have regarded him as John the Baptist risen from the grave. To escape the malice of Herod, Jesus then retired to Syro-Phoenicia, and during this eventful journey, the consciousness of his own Messiahship seems for the first time to have distinctly dawned upon him (Matt. xiv. 1, 13 ; xv. 21; xvi. 13-20). Already, it appears, specula­ tions were rife as to the character of this wonderful preacher. Some thought he was John the Baptist, or perhaps one of the prophets of the Assyrian period returned to the earth. Some, in accordance with a generally-received tradition, supposed him to be Elijah, who had never seen death, and had now at last returned from the regions above the firmament to announce the coming of the Messiah in the clouds. It was generally admitted, among enthusiastic hearers, that he who spake as never man spake before must have some divine commission to exe­ cute. These speculations, coming to the ears of Jesus during his preaching in Galilee, could not fail to excite in him a train of self-con­ scious reflections. To him also must have been presented the query as to his own proper character and functions ; and, as our author acutely demonstrates, his only choice lay between a profitless life of exile in Syro-Phoenicia, and a bold return to Jewish territory in some pro­ nounced character. The problem being thus propounded, there could hardly be a doubt as to what that character should be. Jesus knew well that he was not John the Baptist; nor, however completely he may have been dominated by his sublime enthusiasm, was it likely that he could mistake himself for an ancient prophet arisen from the lower world of shades, or for Elijah descended from the sky. But the Mes­ siah himself he might well be. Such indeed was the almost inevitable corollary from his own conception of Messiahship. We have seen that he had, probably from the very outset, discarded the traditional notion Qf a political Messiah, and recognized the truth that the happiness of a people lies not so much in political autonomy as in the love of God and the sincere practice of righteousness. The people were to be freed from the bondage of sin, of meaningless formalism, of consecrated hypocrisy,—a bondage more degrading than the payment of tribute to the emperor. The true business of the Messiah, then, was to deliver his people from the former bondage; it might be left to Jehovah, in his own good time, to deliver them from the latter. Holding these views, it was hardly possible that it should not sooner or later occur to Jesus that he himself was the person destined to discharge this glorious �34 THE JESUS OF HISTORY. function, to liberate his countrymen from the thraldom of Pharisaic ritualism, and to inaugurate the real Messianic kingdom of spiritual righteousness. Had he not already preached the advent of this spiritual kingdom, and been instrumental in raising many to loftier conceptions of duty, and to a higher and purer life ? And might he not now, by a grand attack upon Pharisaism in its central stronghold, destroy its prestige in the eyes of the people, and cause Israel to adopt a nobler religious and ethical doctrine ? The temerity of such a purpose detracts nothing from its sublimity. And if that purpose should be accomplished, Jesus would really have performed the legitimate work of the Messiah. Thus, from his own point of view, Jesus was thor­ oughly consistent and rational in announcing himself as the expected Deliverer; and in the eyes of the impartial historian his course is fully justified. From that time,” says the first evangelist, “ Jesus began to show to his disciples, that he must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be put to death, and rise again on the third day.” Here we have, obviously, the knowledge of the writer, after the event, reflected back and attributed to Jesus. It is of course impossible that Jesus should have predicted with such definiteness his approaching death ; nor is it very likely that he enter­ tained any hope of being raised from the grave “ on the third day.” To a man in that age and country, the conception of a return from the lower world of shades was not a difficult one to frame; and it may well be that Jesus’ sense of his own exalted position was sufficiently great to inspire him with the confidence that, even in case of temporary fail­ ure, Jehovah would rescue him from the grave and send him back with larger powers to carry out the purpose of his mission. But the diffi­ culty of distinguishing between his own words and the interpretation put upon them by his disciples becomes here insuperable; and there will always be room for the hypothesis that Jesus had in view no posthumous career of his own, but only expressed his unshaken confi­ dence in the success of his enterprise, even after and in spite of his death. At all events, the possibility of his death must now have been often in his mind. He was undertaking a well-nigh desperate task,—to overthrow the Pharisees in Jerusalem itself. No other alternative was left him.' And here we believe Mr. F. W. Newman to be singularly at fault in pronouncing this attempt of Jesus upon Jerusalem a “fool­ hardy ” attempt. According to Mr. Newman, no man has any busi­ ness to rush upon certain death, and it is only a crazy fanatic who will do so. But such “ glittering generalizations ” will here help us but little. The historic data show that to go to Jerusalem, even at the risk of death, was absolutely necessary to the realization of Jesus’ Mes­ sianic project. Mr. Newman certainly would not have had him drag out an inglorious and baffled existence in Syro-Phoenicia. If the �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 25 Messianic kingdom was to be fairly inaugurated, there was work to be done in Jerusalem, and Jesus must go there as one in authority,, cost what it might- We believe him to have gone there in a spirit of grand and careless braverv. vet seriously and soberly and under the influence of no fanatical delusion. He knew the risks, but deliberately chose to incur them, that the will of Jehovah might be accomplished. We next hear of Jesus traveling down to Jerusalem by way of Jericho,, and entering the sacred city in his character of Messiah, at­ tended by a great multitude. It was near the time of the Passover, when people from all parts of Galilee and Judaea were sure to be at x Jerusalem, and the nature of his reception seems to indicate that he had already secured a considerable number of followers upon whose assistance hc^might hope to rely, though it nowhere appears that he intended to use other than purely moral weapons to insure a favorable reception. We must remember that for half a century many of the Jewish people had been constantly looking for the arrival of the Mes­ siah, and there can be little doubt that the entry of Jesus riding upon an ass in literal fulfilment of prophecy must have wrought powerfully upon the imagination of the multitude. That the believers in him were verv numerous must be inferred from the cautious, not to say timid, behavior of the rulers at Jerusalem, who are represented as Hearing to arrest him, but as deterred from taking active steps through fear of the people. We are led to the same conclusion by his driving the monev-changers out of the temple; an act upon which he could hardly have ventured, had not the popular enthusiasm in his favor been for the moment overwhelming. But the enthusiasm of a mob is short-lived, and needs to be fed upon the excitement of brilliant and dramatically arranged events. The calm preacher of righteousness, or even the fierv denouncer of the scribes and Pharisees, could not _ hope to retain nndiminished authority save by the display of extraor­ dinary powers to which, so far as we know, Jesus (like Mohammed) made no pretence. (Matt. xvi. 1—L) The ignorant and materialistic populace could not understand the exalted conception of Messiahship which had been formed by Jesus, and as day after day elapsed without the appearance of any marvelous sign from Jehovah, their enthusiasm must naturally have cooled down. Then the Pharisees appear cau­ tiously endeavoring to entrap him into admissions which might render him obnoxious to the Boman governor. He saw through their design, however, and foiled them by the magnificent repartee, “ Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesars, and unto God the things that are God’s.” Nothing could more forcibly illustrate the completely non­ political character of his Messianic doctrines. Nevertheless, we are told that, failing in this attempt, the chief priests suborned false wit­ nesses to testify against him: this sabbath-breaker, this derider of Mosaic formalism, who with his Messianic pretensions excited the people against their hereditary teachers, must at all events be put out �26 THE JESUS OF HIS T O R U. of the way. Jesus must suffer the fate which society has too often had in store for the reformer; the fate which Socrates and Savonarola, Vanini and Bruno have suffered for being wiser than their own genera­ tion. Messianic adventurers had already given much trouble to the Roman authorities, who were not likely to scrutinize critically the peculiar claims of Jesus. And when the chief priests accused him. before Pilate of professing to be “ King of the Jews,” this claim could in Roman apprehension bear but one interpretation. The offence was treason, punishable, save in the case of Roman citizens, by crucifixion. Such in its main outlines is the historic career of Jesus, as con­ structed by our author from data furnished chiefly by the first gospel. Connected .with the narrative there are many interesting topics of dis­ cussion, of which our rapidly diminishing space will allow us to select only one for comment. That one is perhaps the most important of all, namely, the question as to how far Jesus anticipated the views of Paul in admitting Gentiles to share in the privileges of the Messianic king­ dom. Our author argues, writh much force, that the designs of Jesus were entirely confined to the Jewish people, and that it was Paul who first, by admitting Gentiles to the Christian fold without requiring them to live like Jews, gave to Christianity the character of a universal religion. Our author reminds us that the third gospel is not to be depended upon in determining this point, since it manifestly puts Pauline sentiments into the mouth of Jesus, and in particular attrib­ utes to Jesus an acquaintance with heretical Samaria which the first gospel disclaims. He argues that the apostles were in every respect Jews, save in their belief that Jesus was the Messiah ; and he perti­ nently asks, if James, who was the brother of Jesus, and Peter and John, who were his nearest friends, unanimously opposed Paul and stigmatized him as a liar and heretic, is it at all likely that Jesus had ever distinctly sanctioned such views as Paul maintained ? In the course of many years’ reflection upon this point, we have several times been inclined to accept the narrow interpretation of Jesus’ teaching here indicated; yet, on the whole, we do not believe it can ever be conclusively established. In the first place it must be re­ membered that if the third gospel throws a Pauline coloring .over the events which it describes, the first gospel also shows a decidedly anti­ Pauline bias, and the one party was as likely as the other to attribute its own views to Jesus himself. One striking instance of this tendency has been pointed out by Strauss, who has shown that the verses Matt, v. 17-20, are an interpolation. The person who teaches men to break the commandments is undoubtedly Paul, and in order to furnish a text against Paul’s followers, the “ Nicolaitans,” Jesus is made to declare that he came not to destroy one tittle of the law, but to fulfil the whole in every particular. Such an utterance is in manifest contradic­ tion to the spirit of Jesus’ teaching, as shown in the very same chapter, and throughout a great part of the same gospel. He who taught in �THE JESUS OF HISTORY. 2Ÿ his own name and not as the scribes, who proclaimed himself Lord over the Sabbath, and who manifested from first to last a more than Essenian contempt for rites and ceremonies, did not come to fulfil the law of Mosaism, but to supersede it. Nor can any inference ad­ verse to this conclusion be drawn from the injunction to the disciples, (Matt. x. 5-7,) not to preach to Gentiles and Samaritans, but only “to the lost sheep of the house of Israelfor this remark is placed before the beginning of Jesus’ Messianic career, and the reason assigned for the restriction is merely that the disciples will not have time even to preach to all the Jews before the coming of the Messiah, whose ap­ proach Jesus was announcing. (Matt. x. 23.) These examples show that we must use caution in weighing the testimony even of the first gospel, and must not too hastily cite it as proof that Jesus supposed his mission to be restricted to the Jews. When we come to consider what happened a few years after the death of Jesus, we shall be still less ready to insist upon the view defended by our anonymous author. Paul, according to his own confession, per­ secuted the Christians unto death. Now what, in the theories or in the practice of the Jewish disciples of Jesus, could have moved Paul to such fanatic behavior ? Certainly not their spiritual interpretation of Mosaism, for Paul himself belonged to the liberal school of Gama­ liel, to the views of which the teachings and practices of Peter, James and John might easily be accommodated. Probably not their belief in Jesus as the Messiah, for at the riot in which Stephen was murdered and all the Hellenist disciples driven from Jerusalem, the Jewish disci­ ples were allowed to remain in the city unmolested. (See Acts viii. 1, 14.) This marked difference of treatment indicates that Paul re­ garded Stephen and his friends as decidedly more heretical and obnox­ ious than Peter, James and John, whom, indeed, Paul’s own master Gamaliel had recently (Acts v. 34) defended before the council. And this influence is fully confirmed by the account of Stephen’s death, where his murderers charge him with maintaining that Jesus had founded a new religion which was destined entirely to supersede and replace Judaism. (Acts vi. 14.) The Petrine disciples never held this view of the mission of Jesus; and to this difference it is undoubt­ edly owing that Paul and his companions forbore to disturb them. It would thus appear that even previous to Paul's conversion, within five or six years after the death of Jesus, there was a prominent party among the disciples which held that the new religion was not a modi­ fication but an abrogation of Judaism ; and their name “ Hellenists ” sufficiently shows either that there were Gentiles among them or that they held fellowship with Gentiles. It was this which aroused Paul to persecution, and upon his sudden conversion it was with these Hellen­ istic doctrines that he fraternized, taking little heed of the Petrine disciples (Galatians i. 15), who were hardly more than a Jewish sect. �Now the existence of these Hellenists at Jerusalem so soon after the death of Jesus is clear proof that he had never distinctly and irrev­ ocably pronounced against the admission of Gentiles to the Messianic kingdom, and it makes it very probable that the downfall of Mosaism as a result of his preaching was by no means unpremeditated. While, on the other hand, the obstinacy of the Petrine party in adhering to Jewish customs shows equally that Jesus could not have unequivocally committed himself in favor of a new gospel for the Gentiles. Probably Jesus was seldom brought into direct contact with others than Jews, so that the questions concerning the admission of Gentile converts did not come up during his lifetime; and thus the way was left open for the controversy which soon broke out between the Petrine party and Paul. Nevertheless, though Jesus may never have definitely pro­ nounced. upon this point, it will hardly be denied that his teaching, even as reported in the first gospel, is in its utter condemnation of for­ malism far more closely allied to the Pauline than to the Petrine doc­ trines. In his hands Mosaism became spiritualized until it really lost its identity, and was transformed into a code fit for the whole Roman world. And we do not doubt that if any one had asked Jesus whether circumcision were an essential prerequisite for admission to the Mes­ sianic kingdom, he would have given the same answer which Paul after­ wards gave. We agree with Zeller and Strauss that, “as Luther was a more liberal spirit than the Lutheran divines of the succeeding genera­ tion, and Socrates a more profound thinker than Xenophon or Antisthenes, so also Jesus must be credited with having raised himself far higher above the narrow prejudices of his nation than those of his dis­ ciples who could scarcely understand the spread of Christianity among the heathen when it had become an accomplished fact.” THE JESUS OF DOGMA * HE meagerness of our information concerning the historic career of Jesus stands in striking contrast to the mass of information which lies within our reach concerning the primitive character of Christologie speculation. First we have the epistles of Paul, written from twenty to thirty years after the crucifixion, which, although they tell us next to nothing about T * Saint-Paul. par Ernest Renan. Paris, 1869. (English translation. New York : Carleton, 1869.) Histoire du Dogme de la Divinité de Jesus-Christ, par Albert Réville. Paris, 1869. The End of the.World and the Day of Judgment. Two Discourses by the Rev. W. R. Alger. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1870. �THE JESUS OF DOGMA. 29 what Jesus did. nevertheless give us very plain information as to the impression which he made. Then we have the Apocalypse, written by John, AD. 68, which exhibits the Messianic theory en­ tertained by the earliest disciples. Next we have the epistles to the Hebrews, Philippians. Colossians, and Ephesians, besides the four gos­ pels, constituting altogether a connected chain of testimony to the progress of Christian doctrine from the destruction of Jerusalem to the time of the quartodeciman controversy (A. D. 70-170). Finallv, there is the vast collection of apocryphal, heretical, and patristic literature, from the writings of Justin Martin, the pseudo-Clement, and the pseudo-Ignatius, down to the time of the Council of Nikaia. when the official theories of Christ's person assumed very nearly the shape which they have retained, within the orthodox churches of Christendom, down to the present day. As we pointed out in “ The Jesus of His­ tory,” while all this voluminous literature throws but an uncertain light upon the life and teachings of the founder of Christianity, it nevertheless furnishes nearly all the data which we could desire for knowing what the early Christians thought of the master of their faith. Having given a brief account of the historic career of Jesus, so far as it can now be determined, we propose here to sketch the rise and progress of Christologic doctrine, in its most striking features, during the first three centuries. Beginning with the apostolic view of the human Messiah sent to deliver Judaism from its spiritual torpor, and prepare it for the millennial kingdom, we shall briefly trace the pro­ gressive metamorphosis of this conception until it completely loses its identity in the Athanasian theory, according to which Jesus was God himself, the creator of the universe, incarnate in human flesh. The earliest dogma held by the apostles concerning Jesus was that of his resurrection from the grave after death. It was not only the earliest, but the most essential to the success of the new religion. Christianity might have overspread the Roman Empire, and main­ tained its hold upon men’s faith until to-day, without the dogmas of the incarnation and the Trinity; but without the dogma of the resur­ rection it would probably have failed at the very outset. Its lofty morality would not alone have sufficed to insure its success. For what men needed then, as indeed they still need, and will always need, was not merely a rule of life and a mirror to the heart, but also a compre­ hensive and satisfactory theory of things, a philosophy or theosophy. The times demanded intellectual as well as moral consolation; and the disintegration of ancient theologies needed to be repaired, that the new ethical impulse imparted by Christianity might rest upon a plausible speculative basis. The doctrine of the resurrection was but the begin­ ning of a series of speculative innovations which prepared the way for the new religion to emancipate itself from Judaism, and achieve the conquest of the Empire. Even the faith of the apostles in the speedy return of their master the Messiah must have somewhat lost ground, �30 THE JESUS OE DOGMA. had it not been supported by their belief in his resurrection from the grave and his consequent transfer from Sheol, the gloomy land of shadows, to the regions above the sky. The origin of the dogma of the resurrection cannot be determined with certainty. The question has, during the past century, been the subject of much discussion, upon which it is not necessary for us here to comment. Such apparent evidence as there is in favor of the old theory of Jesus’ natural recovery from the effects of the cruci­ fixion, may be found in Salvador’s “ Jesus-Christ et sa Doctrine but, as Zeller has shown, the theory is utterly unsatisfactory. The natural return of Jesus to his disciples never could have given rise to the notion of his resurrection, since the natural explanation would have been the more obvious one; besides which, if we were to adopt this hypothesis, we should be obliged to account for the fact that the historic career of Jesus ends with the crucifixion. The most probable explanation, on the whole, is the one suggested by the accounts in the gospels, that the dogma of the resurrection is due originally to the excited imagination of Mary of Magdala. The testimony of Paul may also be cited in favor of this view, since he always alludes to earlier Christophanies in just the same language which he uses in describing his own vision on the road to Damascus. But the question as to how the belief in the resurrection of Jesus originated is of less importance than the question as to how it should have produced the effect that it did. The dogma of the resurrection has, until recent times, been so rarely treated from the historical point of view, that the student of history at firsts finds some difficulty in thoroughly realizing its import to the minds of those who first pro­ claimed it. We cannot hope to understand it without bearing in mind the theories of the Jews and early Christians concerning the structure of the world and the cosmic location of departed souls. Since the time of Copernicus modern Christians no longer attempt to locate heaven and hell; they are conceived merely as mysterious places remote from the earth. The theological universe no longer corresponds to that which physical science presents for our contemplation. It was quite different with the Jew. His conception of the abode of Jehovah and the angels, and of departed souls, was exceedingly simple and definite. In the Jewish theory the universe is like a sort of threestory house. The flat earth rests upon the waters, and under the earth’s surface is the land of graves, called Sheol, where after death the souls of all men go, the righteous as well as the wicked, for the Jew had not arrived at the doctrine of heaven and hell. The Hebrew Sheol corresponds strictly to the Greek Hades, before the notions of Elysium and Tartarus were added to it,—a land peopled with flitting shadows, suffering no torment, but experiencing no pleasure, like those whom Dante met in one of the upper circles of his Inferno. Sheol is the first story of the cosmic house ; the earth is the second. Above the earth is �TH R JESUS Of DOGMA. 31 the firmament or sky, which, according to the book of Genesis (chap. i. v. 6, Hebrew text), is a vast plate hammered out by the gods, and sup­ ports a great ocean like that upon which the earth rests. Rain is caused by the opening of little windows or trap-doors in the firmament, through which pours the water of this upper ocean. Upon this water rests the land of heaven, where Jehovah reigns, surrounded by hosts of angels. To this blessed land two only of the human race had ever been admitted,—Enoch and Elijah, the latter of whom had ascended in a chariot of fire, and was destined to return .to earth as the herald and forerunner of the Messiah. Heaven forms the third story of the cosmic house. Between the firmament and the earth is the air, which is the habitation of evil demons ruled by Satan, the “prince of the powers of the air.” Such was the cosmology of the ancient Jew ; and his theology was equally simple. Sheol was the destined abode of all men after death, and no theory of moral retribution was attached to the conception. The rewards and punishments known to the authors of the Pentateuch and the early Psalms are all earthly rewards and punishments. But in course of time the prosperity of the wicked and the misfortunes of the good man furnished a troublesome problem for the Jewish thinker; and after the Babylonish Captivity, we find the doctrine of a resurrec­ tion from Sheol devised in order to meet this case. According to this doctrine—which was borrowed from the Zarathustrian theology of Persia—the Messiah on his arrival was to free from Sheol all the souls of the righteous, causing them to ascend reinvested in their bodies to a renewed and beautiful earth, while on the other hand the wicked were to be punished with, tortures like those of the valley of Hinnom, or were to be immersed in liquid brimstone, like that which had rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah. Here we get the first announcement of a future state of retribution. The doctrine was peculiarly Pharisaic, and the Sadducees, who were strict adherents to the letter of Mosaism, rejected it to the last. By degrees this doctrine became coupled with the Messianic theories of the Pharisees. The loss of Jewish independ­ ence under the dominion of Persians, Macedonians and Romans, caused the people to look over more earnestly toward the expected time when the Messiah should appear in Jerusalem to deliver them from their oppressors. The moral doctrines of the Psalms and earlier prophets assumed an increasingly political aspect. The Jews were the righteous “ under a cloud,” whose sufferings were symbolically depicted by the younger Isaiah as the afflictions of the “ servant of Jehovah;” while on the other hand, the “ wicked ” were the Gentile oppressors of the holy people. Accordingly the Messiah, on his arrival, was to sit in judg­ ment in the valley of Jehoshaphat, rectifying the. wrongs of his chosen ones, condemning the Gentile tyrants to the torments of Gehenna, and raising from Sheol all those Jews who had lived and died during the evil times before his coming. These were to find in the Messianic �32 THE JESUS OF DOGMA. kingdom the compensation for the ills which they had suffered in their first earthly existence. Such are the main outlines of the theory found in the Book of Enoch, written about B. C. 100, and it is adopted in the Johannine Apocalypse, with little variation, save in the recognition of Jesus as the Messiah, and in the transference to his second coming of all these wonderful proceedings. The manner of the Messiah's coming had been variously imagined. According to an earlier view, he was to enter Jerusalem as a King of the house of David, and therefore of human lineage. According to a later view, presented in the Book of Daniel, he was to descend from the sky, and appear among the clouds. Both these views were adopted by the disciples of Jesus, who harmo­ nized them by referring the one to his first and the other to his second appearance. Now to the imaginations of these earliest disciples the belief in the resurrection of Jesus presented itself as a needful guarantee of his Messiahship. Their faith, which must have been shaken by his execu­ tion and descent into Sheol, received welcome confirmation by the springing up of the belief that he had been again seen upon the face of the earth. Applying the imagery of Daniel, it became a logical conclusion that he must have ascended into the sky, whence he might shortly be expected to make his appearance, to enact the scenes foretold in prophecy. That such was the actual process of inference is shown by the legend of the Ascension in the first chapter of the “Acts,” and especially by the words, “This Jesus who hath been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same manner in which ye beheld him going into heaven.” In the Apocalvpse, written A. T). G8, just after the death of Nero, this second coming is described as something im­ mediately to happen, and the colors in which it is depicted show how closely allied were the Johannine notions to those of the Pharisees. The glories of the New Jerusalem are to be reserved for Jews, while for the Roman tyrants of Judaea is reserved a fearful retribution. They are to be trodden under-foot by the Messiah, like grapes in a wine-press, until the gushing blood shall rise to the height of the horse’s bridle. In the writings of Paul, the dogma of the resurrection assumes a very different aspect. Though Paul, like the older apostles, held that Jesus, as the Messiah, was to return to the earth within a few years, yet to his catholic mind this anticipated event had become divested of its narrow Jewish significance. In the eyes of Paul, the religion preached by Jesus was an abrogation of Mosaism, and the truths contained in it were a free gift to the Gentile as well as to the Jewish world. Accord­ ing to Paul, death came into the world as a punishment for the sin of Adam. By this he meant that, had it not been for the original trans­ gression, all men escaping death would either have remained upon earth or have been conveyed to heaven, like Enoch and Elijah, in in­ corruptible bodies. But in reality as a penance for disobedience, all �THE JESUS OF DOGMA. 33 men, with these two exceptions, had suffered death, and been exiled to the gloomy caverns of Sheol. The Mosaic ritual was powerless to free men from this repulsive doom, but it had nevertheless served a good purpose in keeping men’s minds directed toward holiness, pre­ paring them, as a schoolmaster would prepare his pupils, to receive the vitalizing truths of Christ. Now, at last, the Messiah or Christ had come as a second Adam, and being without sin had been raised by Je­ hovah out of Sheol and taken up into heaven, as testimony to men that the power of sin and death was at last defeated. The wav hence­ forth to avoid death and escape the exile to Sheol was to live spiritually like Jesus, and with him to be dead to sensual requirements. Faith, in Paul’s apprehension, was not an intellectual assent to definitely pre­ scribed dogmas, but, as Matthew Arnold has well pointed out, it was an emotional striving after righteousness, a developing consciousness of God in the soul, such as Jesus had possessed, or in Paul’s phrase­ ology, a subjugation of the flesh by the spirit. All those who should thus seek spiritual perfection should escape the original curse. The Messiah was destined to return to the earth to establish the reign of spiritual holiness, probably during Paul’s own lifetime. (1 Cor. xv. 51.) Then the true followers of Jesus should be clothed in ethereal bodies, free from the imperfections of “ the flesh,” and should ascend to heaven without suffering death, while the righteous dead should at the same time be released from Sheol, even as Jesus himself had been released. To the doctrine of the resurrection, in which ethical and speculative elements are thus happily blended by Paul, the new religion doubtless owed in great part its rapid success. Into an account of the causes which favored the spreading of Christianity, it is not our purpose to enter at present. * ut we may note that the local religions of the ancient B pagan world had partly destroyed each other by mutual intermingling, and had lost their hold upon people from the circumstance that their ethical teaching no longer corresponded to the advanced ethical feeling, of the age. Polytheism, in short, was outgrown. It was outgrown both intellectually and morally. People were ceasing to believe in its doctrines, and were ceasing to respect its precepts. The learned were taking refuge in philosophy, the ignorant in mystical superstitions im­ ported Trom Asia. The commanding ethical motive of ancient repub­ lican times had been patriotism—devotion to the interests of the com­ munity. But Roman dominion had destroyed patriotism as a guiding principle of life, and thus in every way the minds of men were left in a sceptical, unsatisfied state,—craving after a new theory of life, and craving after a new stimulus to right action. Obviously the only theology which could now be satisfactory to philosophy or to common­ sense was some form of monotheism;—some system of doctrines which should represent all men as spiritually subjected to the will of a single God, just as they were subjected to the temporal authority of the Em­ �34 THE JESUS Of DOGMA. peror. And similarly the only system of ethics which could have a chance of prevailing must be some system which should clearly pre­ scribe the mutual duties of all men without distinction of race or locality. Thus the spiritual morality of Jesus, and his conception of God as a father and of all men as brothers, appeared at once to meet the ethical and speculative demands of the time. Yet whatever effect these teachings might have produced, if un­ aided by further doctrinal elaboration, was enhanced myriadfold by the elaboration which they received at the hands of Paul. Philosophic Stoics and Epicureans had arrived at the conception of the brotherhood of men, and the Greek hymn of Kleanthes had exhibited a deep spirit­ ual sense of the fatherhood of God. The originality of Christianity lay not so much in its enunciation of new ethical precepts as in the fact that it furnished a new ethical sanction—a commanding incentive to holiness of living. That it might accomplish this result, it was abso­ lutely necessary that it should begin by discarding both the ritualism and the narrow theories of Judaism. The mere desire for a mono­ theistic creed had led many pagans, in Paul’s time, to embrace Juda­ ism, in spite of its requirements, which to Romans and Greeks were meaningless, and often, disgusting; but such conversions could never have been numerous. Judaism could never have conquered the Roman world; nor is it likely that the Judaical Christianity of Peter, James, and John would have been any more successful. The doctrine of the resurrection, in particular, was not likely to prove attractive wheu ac­ companied by the picture of the Messiah treading the Gentiles in the wine-press of his righteous indignation. But here Paul showed his profound originality. The condemnation of Jewish formalism which * Jesus had pronounced, Paul turned against the older apostles, who in­ sisted upon circumcision. With marvelous flexibility of mind, Paul placed circumcision and the Mosaic injunctions about meats upon a level with the ritual observances of pagan nations, allowing each feeble brother to perform such works as might tickle his fancy, but bidding all take heed that salvation was not to be obtained after any such me­ chanical method, but only by devoting the whole soul to righteousness, after the example of Jesus. This was the negative part of Paul’s work. This was the knocking down of the barriers which had kept men, and would always have kept them, from entering into the kingdom of heaven. But the positive part of Paul’s work is contained in his theory of the salvation of men from death through the second Adam, whom Jehovah rescued from Sheol for his sinlessness. The resurrection of Jesus was the visible token of the escape from death which might be achieved by all men who, with God’s aid, should succeed in freeing themselves from thè burden of sin which had encumbered all the children of Adam. The end of the world was at hand, and they who would live with Christ must figuratively die with Christ—must become dead to sin. Thus to �THE JESUS OF DOGMA. 35 the pure and spiritual ethics contained in the teachings of Jesus, Paul added an incalculably’powerful incentive to right action, and a theory of life calculated to satisfy the speculative necessities of the pagan or v Gentile world. To the educated and sceptical Athenian, as to the criti­ cal scholar of modern times, the physical resurrection of Jesus from the grave, and his ascent through the vaulted floor of heaven, might seem foolishness or naïveté. But to the average. Greek or Roman the con­ ception presented no serious difficulty. The cosmical theories upon . which the conception was founded were essentially the same among Jews and Gentiles, and indeed were but little modified until the estab­ lishment of the Copernican astronomy. The doctrine of the Messiah’s second coming was also received without opposition, and for about a century men lived in continual anticipation of that event, until hope long deferred produced its usual results ; the writings in which that event was predicted were gradually explained away, ignored, or stigma­ tized as uncanonical ; and the Church ended by condemning as a heresy the very doctrine which Paul and the Judaizing apostles, who agreed in little else, had alike made the basis of their spéculative teachings. Nevertheless, by the dint of allegorical interpretation, the belief has maintained an obscure existence even down to the present time ; the Antiochus of the Book of Daniel and the Nero of the Apoc­ alypse having given place to the Roman Pontiff or to the Emperor of the French. But as the millenarism of the primitive Church gradually died out during the second century, the essential principles involved in it lost none of their hold on men’s minds. As the generation contemporary with Paul died away and was gathered into Sheol, it became apparent that the original theory must be somewhat modified, and to this ques­ tion the author of the second epistle to the Thessalonians addresses himself. Instead of literal preservation from death, the doctrine of a resurrection from the grave was gradually extended to the case of the new believers, who were to share in the same glorious revival with the righteous of ancient times. And thus by slow degrees the victory over death, of which the resurrection of Jesus was a symbol and a witness, became metamorphosed into the comparatively modern doctrine of the rest of the saints in heaven, while the banishment of the unrighteous to Sheol was -made still more dreadful by coupling with the vague con­ ception of a gloomy subterranean cavern the horrible imagery of the lake of tire and brimstone borrowed from the apocalyptic descriptions of Gehenna. But in this modification of the original theory, the fun­ damental idea of a future state of retribution was only the more dis­ tinctly emphasized; although, in course of time, the original incentive to righteousness supplied by Paul was more and more subordinated to the comparatively degrading incentive involved in the fear of damna­ tion. There can hardly be a doubt that the definiteness and vividness • of the Pauline theory of a future life contributed very largely to the �36 THE JESUS OF DOGMA. rapid spread of the Christian religion; nor can it be doubted that to the desire to be holy like Jesus, in order to escape death and live with Jesus, is due the elevating ethical influence which, even in the worst times of ecclesiastic degeneracy, Christianity has never failed to exert. Doubtless, as Lessing long ago observed, the notion of future reward and punishment needs to be eliminated in order that the incentive to holiness may be a perfectly pure one. The highest virtue is that which takes no thought of reward or punishment; but for a conception of this sort the mind of antiquity was not ready, nor is the average mind of to-day yet ready; and the sudden or premature dissolution of the Christian theory—which is fortunately impossible—would no doubt entail a moral retrogradation. The above is by no means intended as a complete account of the religious philosophy of Paul. We have aimed only at a clear definition of the character and scope of the doctrine of the resurrection of Jesus, at the time when it was first elaborated. We have now to notice the influence of that doctrine upon the development of Christo logic specu­ lation. In neither of the four genuine epistles of Paul is Jesus described as superhuman, or as differing in nature from other men, save in his freedom from sin. As Baur has shown, “the proper nature of the Pauline Christ is human. He is a man, but a spiritual man, one in whom spirit or pneumo, was the essential principle, so that he was spirit as well as man. The principle of an ideal humanity existed before Christ in the bright form of a typical man, but was manifested to mankind in the person of Christ.” Such, according to Baur, is Paul’s interpretation of the Messianic idea. Paul knows nothing of the miracles, of the supernatural conception, of the incarnation, or of the Logos. The Christ whom he preaches is the man Jesus, the founder of a new and spiritual order of humanity, as Adam was the father of humanity after the flesh. The resurrection is uniformly described by him as a manifestation of the power of Jehovah, not of Jesus himself. The later conception of Christ bursting the barred gates of Sheol, and arising by his own might to heaven, finds no warrant in the expressions of Paul. Indeed it was essential to Paul’s theory of the Messiah as a new Adam, that he should be human and not divine ; for the escape of a divine being from Sheol could afford no precedent and furnish no assurance of the future escape of human beings. It was expressly because the man Jesus had been rescued from the grave because of his spirituality, that other men might hope, by becoming spiritual like him, to be rescued also. Accordingly Paul is careful to state that “ since through man came death, through man came also the resurrection of the dead” (1 Cor. xv. 21); a passage which would look like an express denial of Christ’s superhuman character, were it probable that any of Paul’s contemporaries had ever conceived of Jesus as other than essentially human. �THE JESES OE DOGMA. But though Paul’s Christology remained in this primitive stage, it contained the germs of a more advanced theory. For even Paul con­ ceived of Jesus as a man wholly exceptional in spiritual character ; or, in the phraseology of the time, as consisting to a larger extent of pneuma than any man who had lived before him. The question was sure to arise, whence came thisyuie^ma or spiritual quality? Whether the question ever distinctly presented itself to Paul’s mind cannot be determined. Probably it did not. In those writings of his which have come down to us, he shows himself careless of metaphysical con­ siderations. He is mainly concerned with exhibiting the unsatisfactory character of Jewish Christianity, and with inculcating a spiritual morality, to which the doctrine of Christ’s resurrection is made to supply a surpassingly powerful sanction. But attempts to solve the problem were not long in coming. According to a very early tradition, of which the obscured traces remain in the ^noptic gospels, Jesus received theyme/wn« at the time of his baptism, when the Holy Spirit, or visible manifestation of the essence of Jehovah, descended upon him and became incarnate in him. This theory, however, was exposed to the objection that it implied a sudden and entire transformation of an ordinary man into a person inspired or possessed by the Deity. Though long maintained by the Ebionites or primitive Christians, it was very soon rejected by the great body of the Church, which asserted instead that Jesus had been inspired by the Holy Spirit from the moment of his conception. From this it was but a step to the theory that Jesus was actually begotten by or of the Holy Spirit; a notion which the Hellenic mind, accustomed to the myths of Leda, Anchises, and others, found no difficulty in entertaining. According to the Gospel of the Hebrews, as cited by Origen, the Holy Spirit was the mother of Jesus, and Joseph was his father. But according to the prevailing opinion, as represented in the first and third synoptists, the relationship was just the other way. With greater apparent plausibil­ ity, the divine vEon was substituted for the human father, and a myth sprang up, of which the materialistic details furnished to the oppo­ nents of the new religion an opportunity for making the most gross and exasperating insinuations. • The dominance of this theory marks the era at which our first and third synoptic gospels were composed,— from sixty to ninety years after the death of Jesus. In the luxuriant mythologic growth there exhibited, we may yet trace the various suc­ cessive phases of Christologic speculation but imperfectly blended. In “Matthew” and “Luke” we find the original Messianic theory ex­ emplified in the genealogies of Jesus, in which, contrary to historic probability, (cf. Matt. xxii. 41-46,) but in accordance with a tihiehonored tradition, his pedigree is traced back to David ; “ Matthew ” referring him to the royal line of Judah, while “ Luke ” more cautiously has recourse to an assumed younger branch. Superposed upon this primitive mythologic stratum, we find, in the same narratives, the ac- �38 > b I i THE JESUS OF DOGMA. count of the descent of the pneumo, at the time of the baptism ; and crowning the whole, there are the two accounts of the nativity which, though conflicting in nearly all their details, agree in representing the divine pneuma as the father of Jesus. Of these three stages of Christology, the last becomes entirely irreconcilable with the first; and nothing can better illustrate the uncritical character of the synoptists than the fact that the assumed descent of Jesus from David through his father Joseph is allowed to stand side by side with the account of the miraculous conception which completely negatives it. Of this difficulty “Matthew” is quite unconscious, and “Luke,” while vaguely noticing it, (iii. 23,) proposes no solution, and appears .undisturbed by the contradiction. Thus far the Christology with which we have been dealing is pre­ dominantly Jewish, though to some extent influenced by Hellenic conceptions. None of the successive doctrines presented in Paul, “ Matthew,” and “ Luke,” assert or imply the pre-existence of Jesus. At this early period he was regarded as a human being raised to parti­ cipation in certain attributes of divinity; and this was as far as the dogma could be carried by the Jewish metaphysics. But soon after the date of our third gospel, a Hellenic system of Christology arose into prominence, in which the problem was reversed, and Jesus was regarded as a semi-divine being temporarily lowered to participation in certain attributes of humanity. For such a doctrine Jewish mythol­ ogy supplied no precedents; but the Indo-European mind was familiar with the conception of deity incarnate in human form, as in the avatars of Vishnu, or even suffering in the interests of humanity, as in the noble myth of Prometheus. The elements of Christology pre-ex­ isting in the religious conceptions of Greece, India, and Persia, are too rich and numerous to be discussed here. A very full account of them is given in Mr. R. W. Mackay’s treatise on the “ Religious Development of the Greeks and Hebrews,”—one of the most acute and erudite theo­ logical works which this century has produced. It was in Alexandria, where Jewish theology first came into contact with Hellenic and Oriental ideas, that the way was prepared for the dogma of Christ’s pre-existence. The attempt to rationalize the con­ ception of deity as embodied in the Jehovah of the Old Testament, gave rise to the class of opinions described as Gnosis, or Gnosticism. The signification of Gnosis is simply “rationalism,”—the endeavor to harmonize the materialistic statements of an old mythology with the more advanced spiritualistic philosophy of the time. The Gnostics rejected the conception of an anthropomorphic deity who had appeared visibly and audibly to th^ patriarchs ; and they were the authors of the doctrine, very widely spread during the second and third centuries, that God could not in person have been the creator of the world. Ac­ cording to them, God, as pure spirit, could not act directly upon vile and gross matter. The difficulty which troubled them was curiously �THE ,J E 8 US OF D () C M J 39 analogous to that which disturbed the Cartesians and followers of Leib­ nitz in the seventeenth century : how was spirit to act upon matter, without ceasing, pro tanto, to be spirit ? To meet this difficulty, the Gnostics postulated a series of emanations from God, becoming success­ ively less and less spiritual and more and more material, until at the lowest end of the scale was reached the Demiurgus or Jehovah of the Old Testament, who created the world and appeared, clothed in mate­ rial form, to the patriarchs. According to some of the Gnostics, this lowest mon or emanation was identical with the Jewish Satan, or Ahri­ man of the Persians, who is called “ the prince of this world,” and the creation of the world was an essentially evil act. But all did not share in these extreme opinions. In the prevailing theory, this last of the divine emanations was identified with the “ Sophia,” or personified “Wisdom,” of the Book of Proverbs, (viii. 22-30,) who is described as present with God before the foundation of the world. The totality of these icons constituted the ptleroma, or “ fullness of God,” (Coloss. i. 20; Ephes, i. 23,) and in a corollary which bears unmistakable marks of Buddhist influence, it was argued that, in the final consummation of things, matter should be eliminated and all spirit reunited with God, from whom it had primarily flowed. It was impossible that such .views as these should not soon be taken up and applied to the fluctuating Christology of the time. According to the “ Shepherd of Hermas,” an apocalyptic writing nearly contem­ porary with the gospel of “ Mark,” the ¿eon or son of God who existed previous to the creation was not the Christ, or the Sophia, but the Pneuma or Holy Spirit, represented in the Old Testament as the “angel of Jehovah.” Jesus, in reward for his perfect goodness, was admitted to a share in the privileges of this Pneuma. (Reville, p. 39.) Here, as M. Reville observes, though a Gnostic idea is adopted, Jesus is nevertheless viewed as ascending humanity, and not as descending divinity. The author of the “Clementine Homilies” advances a step farther, and clearly assumes the pre-existence of Jesus, who, in his opinion, was the pure, primitive man, successively incarnate in Adam, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, and finally in the Messiah or Christ. The author protests, in vehement language, against those Hellenists who, misled by their polytheistic associations, would elevate Jesus into a god. Nevertheless his own hypothesis of pre-existence supplied at once the requisite fulcrum for those Gnostics who wished to reconcile a strict monotheism with the ascription of divine attri­ butes to Jesus. Combining With this notion of pre-existence the pneu­ matic or spiritual quality attributed to Jesus in the writings of Paul, the gnosticising Christians maintained that Christ was an mon or em­ anation from God, redeeming men from the consequences entailed by their imprisonment in matter. At this stage of Christologic specu­ lation appeared the anonymous epistle to the “Hebrews,” and the pseudo-Pauline euistles to the “Colossians,” “Ephesians,”and “Philip- �40 THE JESUS OF DOGMA. pians.” (A. D. 130.) In these epistles, which originated among the Pauline Christians, the Gnostic theosophy is skillfully applied to the Pauline conception of the scope and purposes of Christianity. Jesus is described as the creator of the world, (Coloss. i. 16,) the visible image J • of the invisible God, the chief and ruler of the “thrones, dominions, ¡principalities and powers,” into which, in Gnostic phraseology, the em­ anations of God were classified. Or, according to “ Colossians ” and t1| “ Ph ilippians,” all the ieons are summed up in him, in whom dwells the pleroma, or “fullness of God.” Thus Jesus is elevated quite above ordinary humanity, and a close approach is made to ditheism, although he is still emphatically subordinated to God by being made the creator of the world,—an office then regarded as incompatible with absolute divine perfection. In the celebrated passage, “ Philippians” ii. 6-11, the aeon Jesus is described as being the form or visible manifestation of God, yet as humbling himself by taking on the form or semblance of humanity, and suffering death, in return for which he is to be exalt• ed even above the archangels. A similar view is taken in “ Hebrews ; ” and it is probable that to the growing favor with which these doctrines were received, we owe the omission of the miraculous conception from the gospel of “Mark,”—a circumstance which has misled some critics into assigning to that gospel an earlier date than to “ Matthew” and “ Luke.” Yet the fact that in this gospel Jesus is implicitly ranked above the angels, (Mark xiii, 32, 33,) reveals a later stage of Christologic doctrine than that reached-by the first and third synoptists; and if is altogether probable that, in accordance with the noticeable con­ ciliatory disposition of this evangelist, the supernatural conception is omitted out of deference to the gnosticising theories of “ Colossians ” and “Philippians,” in which this materialistic doctrine seems to have had no assignable place. In “ Philippians ” especially, many expres­ sions seem to verge upon Docefism, the extreme form of Gnosticism, according to which the human body of Jesus was only a phan tom. Valentinus, who was contemporary with the Pauline writers of the second century, maintained that Jesus was not born of Mary by any process of conception, but merely passed through her, as light traverses a translucent substance. And finally Marcion (A. D. 140) carried the theory to its extreme limits by declaring that Jesus was the pure Pneuma or Spirit, who contained nothing in common with carnal humanity. The pseudo-Pauline writers steered clear of this extravagant doc­ trine, which erred by breaking entirely with historic tradition, and was consequently soon condemned as heretical. Their language, though unmistakably Gnostic, was sufficiently neutral and indefinite to allow of their combination with earlier and later expositions of dogma, and they were therefore eventually received into the canon, where they exhibit a stage of opinion midway between that of Paul and that of the fourth gospel. For the construction of a durable system of Christology, still i t �THE JESUS OF DOGMA. 41 further elaboration was necessary. The pre-existence of Jesus, as an emanation from God, in whom were summed up the attributes of the pleroma or full scale of Gnostic a?ons, was now generally conceded. Blit the relation of this pleroma to the Godhead of which it was the visible manifestation, needed to be more-accurately defined. And here recourse was had to the conception of the “Logos,”—a notion which Philo had borrowed from Plato, lending to it a theosophic significance. In the Platonic metaphysics, objective existence was attributed to general terms, the signs of general notions. Besides each particular man, horse, or tree, and besides all men, horses, and trees, in the aggregate, there was supposed to exist an ideal Man, Horse, and Tree. Each particular man, hors#, or tree consisted of abstract existence plus a portion of the ideal man, horse, or tree. Socrates, for instance, con­ sisted of Existence, plus Animality, plus Humanity, plus Socraticity. The visible world of particulars thus existed only by virtue of its par­ ticipation in the attributes of the ideal world of universals. God created the world by encumbering each idea with an envelopment or clothing of visible matter; and since matter is vile or imperfect, all things are more or less perfect as they partake more or less fully of the idea. The pure unencumbered idea, the “ Idea of ideas,” is the Logos, or divine Reason, which represents the sum-total of the activities which sustain the world, and serves as a mediator between the abso­ lutely ideal God and the absolutely non-ideal matter. Here we arrive at a Gnostic conception, which the Philonists of Alexandria were not slow to appropriate. The Logos, or divine Reason, was identified with the Sophia, or divine Wisdom of the Jewish Gnostics, which had dwelt with God before the creation of the world. By a subtle play upon the double meaning of the Greek term {logos = “ reason ” or “ word,”) a distinction was drawn between the divine Reason and the divine Word. The former was the archetypal idea or thought of God, existing from all eternity; the latter was the external manifestation or realization of that idea which occurred at the moment of creation, when, according to Genesis, God spoke, and the world was. In the middle of the second century, this Philonian theory was the one thing needful to add metaphysical precision to the Gnostic and Pauline speculations concerning the nature of Jesus. In the writings of Justin Martyr, (A. D. 150-1G6,) Jesus is for the first time identified with the Philonian logos or “Word of God.” According to Justin, an impassable abyss exists between the Infinite Deity and the Finite World; the one cannot act upon the other; pure spirit cannot con­ taminate itself by contact with impure matter. To meet this difficulty, God evolves from himself a secondary God, the Logos,—yet without diminishing himself any more than a flame is diminished when it gives birth to a second flame. Thus generated, like light begotten of light, {lumen de lumine,) the Logos creates the world, inspires the ancient prophets with their divine revelations, and finally reveals him­ �42 THE JESUS OE DOGMA. self to mankind in the person of Christ. Yet Justin sedulously guards himself against ditheism, insisting frequently and emphatically upon the immeasurable inferiority of the Logos as compared with the actual God (7zo ontos theos.) We have here reached very nearly the ultimate phase of New Tes­ tament speculation concerning Jesus. The doctrines enunciated by Justin became eventually, with slight modification, the official doc­ trines of the Church : yet before they could thus be received, some further elaboration was needed. The pre-existing Logos-Christ of Justin was no longer the human Messiah of the firstand third gos­ pels, born of a woman, inspired by the divine Pneuma, and tempted by the Devil. There was danger that Christologie speculation might break quite loose from historic tradition, and pass into the metaphysical extreme of Docetism. Had this come to pass, there might perhaps have been a fatal schism in the Church. Tradition still remained Ebionitish ; dogma had become decidedly Gnostic ; how were the two to be moulded into harmony with each other ? Such was the prob­ lem which presented itself to the author of the fourth gospel (A. D. 170-180). As M. Réville observes, “if the doctrine of the Logos were really to be applied to the person of Jesus, it was necessary to re­ model the evangelical history.” Tradition must be moulded so as to fit the dogma, but the dogma must be restrained by tradition from running into Docetic extravagance. It must 'be shown historically how “ the Word became flesh ” and dwelt on earth, (John i. 14,) how the deeds of Jesus of Nazareth were the deeds of the incarnate Logos, in whom was exhibited the pleroma or fullness of the divine attri­ butes. The author of the fourth gospel is, like Justin, a Philonian Gnostic; but he differs from Justin in his bold and skilful treatment of the traditional materials supplied by the earlier gospels. The prooess of development in the theories and purposes of Jesus, which can be traced throughout the Messianic descriptions of the first gospel, is entirely obliterated in the fourth. Here Jesus appears at the out­ set as the creator of the world, descended from his glory, but des­ tined soon to be reinstated. The title “ Son of Man ” has lost its original significance, and become synonymous with “ Son of God.” The temptation, the transfiguration, the scene in Gethsemane, are omitted, and for the latter is substituted a Philonian prayer. Never­ theless, the author carefully avoids the extremes of Docetism or di­ theism. Not only does he represent the human life of Jesus as real, and his death as a truly physical death, but he distinctly asserts the inferiority of the Son to the Father (John xiv. 28.) Indeed, as M. Ré­ ville well observes, it is part of the very notion of the Logos that it should be imperfect relatively to the absolute God ; since it is only its relative imperfection which allows it to sustain relations to the world and to men which are incompatible with absolute perfection, from the Philonian point of view. The Athanasian doctrine of the Trinity �THE JESUS OF DOGMA. 43 finds no support in the fourth gospel, any more than in the earlier books collected in the New Testament. The fourth gospel completes the speculative revolution by which the conception of a divine being lowered to humanity was substituted for that of a human being raised to divinity. We have here traveled a long distance from the risen Messiah of the genuine Pauline epistles, or the preacher of righteousness in the first gospel. Yet it does not seem probable tliat the Church of the third century was thoroughly aware of the discrepancy. The authors of the later Christology did not regard themselves as adding new truths to Christianity, but merely as giving a fuller and more consistent interpretation to what must have been known from the outset. They were so completely destitute of the historic sense, and so strictly confined to the dogmatic point of view, that they projected their own theories back into the past, and vituper­ ated as heretics those who adhered to tradition in its earlier and sim­ pler form. Examples from more recent times are not wanting, which show that we are dealing here with an inveterate tendency of the human mind. New facts and new theories are at first condemned as heretical or ridiculous; but when once firmly established, it is imme­ diately maintained that every one knew them before. After the Coper­ nican astronomy had won the day, it was tacitly assumed that the ancient Hebrew astronomy was Copernican, and the Biblical concep­ tion of the universe as a kind of three-story house was ignored, and has been, except by scholars, quite forgotten. When the geologic evidence of the earth’s immense antiquity could no longer be gainsaid, it was suddenly ascertained that the Bible had from the outset asserted that antiquity; and in our own day we have seen an elegant popular writer perverting the testimony of the rocks and distorting the Elohistic cos­ mogony of the Pentateuch, until the twain have been made to furnish what Bacon long ago described as “ a heretical religion and a false philosophy.” Now just as in the popular thought of the present day the ancient Elohist is accredited with a knowledge of modern geology and astronomy, so in the opinion of the fourth evangelist and his con­ temporaries the doctrine of the Logos-Christ was implicitly contained in the Old Testament and in the early traditions concerning Jesus, and needed only to be brought into prominence by a fresh interpretation. Hence arose the fourth gospel, which was no more a conscious violation of historic data than Hugh Miller’s imaginative description of the “ Mosaic Vision of Creation.” Its metaphysical discourses were readily accepted as equally authentic with the Sermon on the Mount. Its Philonian doctrines were imputed to Paul and the apostles, the pseudo­ Pauline epistles furnishing the needful texts. The Ebionites—who were simply Judaizing Christians, holding in nearly its original form the doctrine of Peter, Janies, and John—were ejected from the Church as the most pernicious of heretics ; and so completely was their historic position misunderstood and forgotten, that, in order to account for �44 THE JESUS OF DOGMA. their existence, it became necessary to invent an epoifymous heresiarch, Ebion, who was supposed to have led them astray from the true faith I The Christology of the fourth gospel is substantially the same as that which was held in the next two centuries by Tertullian, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and Arius. When the doctrine of the Trinity was first announced by Sabellius (A. D. 250-260), it was formally con­ demned as heretical, the Church being not yet quite prepared to receive it. In 269 the Council of Antioch solemnly declared that the Son was not consubstantial with the Father—a declaration which, within sixty years, the Council of Nikaia was destined as solemnly to contradict The trinitarian Christology struggled long for acceptance, and did not finally win the victory until the end of the fourth century. Yet from the outset its ultimate victory was hardly doubtful. The peculiar doc­ trines of the fourth gospel could retain their integrity * only so long as Gnostic ideas were prevalent. When Gnosticism declined in importtance, and its theories faded out of recollection, its peculiar phraseology received of necessity a new interpretation. The doctrine that God could not act directly upon the world sank gradually into oblivion as the Church grew more and more hostile to the Neo-Platonic philoso­ phy. And when this theory was once forgotten, it was inevitable that the Logos, as the creator of the world, should be raised to an equality or identity with God himself. In the view of the fourth evangelist, the Creator was necessarily inferior to God; in the view of later ages, the Creator could be none other than God. And so the very phrases which had most emphatically asserted the subordination' of the Son were afterward interpreted as asserting his absolute divinity. To the Gnos­ tic formula, “ lumen de lumine,” was added the Athanasian scholium, “Deum verum de Deo vero ; ” and the trinitarian dogma of the union of persons in a single Godhead became thus the only available logical device for preserving the purity of monotheism. The modern theory, however, at which we seem to be slowly arriv­ ing is, that light, heat, electricity, life itself, are only forms of motion, and that death is merely the cessation of this motion; that the deity is, throughout the universe, the embodiment (sinee that is the only word I can think of to express myself) of motion itself; and that all which dies, or, in other words, ceases to move, falls back into the uni­ verse, and is absorbed into the deity. This was the belief of the Bud­ dhist—the framer or acceptor of a pure and beautiful religion ; and to this belief modern science and the enlargement of knowledge slowly tend.—Macmillan’s Magazine. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The last word about Jesus Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Fiske, John Description An account of the resource Place of publication: [New York] Collation: [9]-48 p. ; 26 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Extracted from Modern Thinker, no. 1, 1870. Includes bibliographical references. Printed on grey paper. Marks from adhesive tape on first page. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [American News Company] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1870] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5413 Subject The topic of the resource Jesus Christ Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (The last word about Jesus), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Jesus Christ Jesus Christ-Historicity https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/9bbedea3d102766c0ae341752d92d5dd.pdf?Expires=1782345600&Signature=P01kNUdPYZRA5pPyqVgqEAurEWkaLgFJMaAdVVhqju2nqNO60UcluAt6cDbTwKlgYP6pASxsf9-Ljxolzp3jVfjMXkfZnTSJN2c4AbixAIkwwUgh%7EfTTIxt-sQ84ZfWB0OKr4hOJa-eBE5U5K2wmPCbcZmVaqzIEcUFOIVqqUTXbUNphrIhI2ZMr7Dn1r6T%7ECRYMToBuZPpbnDvsKnnKbzWZNdlWC91o4fHgnORwbYsgSKl9XBd1PpC6wMjWTgmFVtU4ZZvGS%7EzhiFCezvf%7EmDeS3vq9CM0-QI6BrNxv8u0ZPuZBmI6UbxfQ4IKq0TQMBu%7EB9qWf9LzOtZYtzh0j9A__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 76d5af8099696daf9ac29a395a87e3f8 PDF Text Text THE "CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE, NECESSITY OF THE ORGANIZATION OF ^SOCIETY ON SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLES. BY A. BRISBANE. HE idea of a Reconstruction of Society, involving an entire change in the existing order of things, has taken possession of a large number of minds at the present day. These minds belong mainly to two extreme classes in society; to the most advanced thinkers, and to the suffering masses. Profound reflection and misery are alike leading men to comprehend the necessity of fun* damental social changes, and of a new and higher Order of society on I the earth;—and this insight is giving rise to a vast under-current of p agitation^-but little suspected by the conservative classes—which is becoming powerful, and is destined ere long to change all the issues that now occupy public attention. The question of a Social Reconstruction is by far the most im- portant that can engage human thought. It should be a subject of • the most serious study on the part of progressive and able thinkers, - for ere long the question will become the order of the day: and when r this takes place, and the idea of a better social state penetrates the minds of the masses, it will<give rise to great convulsions, to Social Revolutions, unless the leaders of society are prepared with scientific solutions. The work of real Thinkers at the present day is not with partial and fragmentary reforms; it is with these solutions,—with the . means of a fundamental and organic Reconstruction of Society. We will endeavor to throw some light on this subject by an analysis of Society—of its nature and constitution. We will examine it in its relation to Man, who is a system of mental and moral Forces, and who lives under and acts through its Institutions. Society (by which we understand a synthesis of customs, laws, and institutions) is the great external or collective Body of a collective Soul,—of a large community of beings, co-operating industrially, politically, and socially, and forming a State or Nation. In studying this Body, we must do so with constant reference to the living and superior Principle which acts through it, and to which it should be adapted. The terms Society, Social System, Social Order, are used in a gen■L 29 T �226 , THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. eral and vague manner to convey the idea of a system of customs, laws, and institutions, under which a community of human beings liveThey convey the idea of merely an indefinite Whole, which requires to be decomposed or analyzed and defined, and its different parts shown and explained, in order that a clear and intelligible conception of its nature may be formed. The Social System is then'to be considered as a Whole, composed of subordinate parts or branches like other Wholes,—like the human’ body, for example, which is composed of subordinate organs, such as the brain and nervous system, the lungs, heart, stomach, liver, etc., or like a machine, composed of wheels, springs, and other parts. To living Wholes, the name Organism is given: to inanimate Wholes, constructed by man, that of Machine or Mechanism. Thus the human body is an Organism, while a steam-engine is a Machine. To the Social Whole, called the Social System or Order, the term Organ­ ism may, we think, be justly applied, inasmuch as the living Forces in man—the Senses, Sentiments, and Intellectual Faculties—act . in and through it. It is, as stated, the external Body of a collective Soul,—of a community, nation, or race. In analyzing the social Organism, and decomposing it into its con­ stituent parts, we find that it is composed of the following principal branches. TABLE OF THE SOCIAL ORGANISM AND ITS BRANCHES. Transitional Branch. EDUCATION : Development of the Child or germ.' INDUSTRY : Creation of Wealth. Three SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS: Regulation of the Social rePrimary “ lations of human beings. Branches. GOVERNMENT : Regulation of the collective relations t and interests. Pivotal Branch. RELIGION: Regulation of the relations of Man with the invisible Universe. J THE FINE ARTS. Harmony. Accessory Branches. 1 THE SCIENCES. Knowledge. We will explain briefly the functions of these various branches; after which we will present a more complete analysis of the social Or­ ganism. Transitional Branch: The System of Education. We designate this branch as transitional, as its function is to develop and form the Child, which is the germ of the future Man, and to train and prepare it for the industrial, social, and civil.pursuits and relations into which it is later to enter. This branch is composed of three sub-branches : 1st Sub-branch : Industrial Education. The function of this branch of the general Educational system is to develop the Child physically, to initiate it into Industry, and thus render it a producer capable of supporting itself, as it grows to manhood. This branch is entirely unorganized in the present social Order; in fact, it does not �THS CIVILIZATION Of THE FUTURE. 22? exist, except in the rude state of the apprenticeship system for the children of the poor. The upper and middle classes grow up entirely uneducated industrially, and are, as a consequence, non-producers, who must appropriate to themselves the wealth created by the poorer classes,’ which they do through the parasitic operations of commerce and finance, and the profits of capital. 2d Sub-beanoh: Social or Moral Education. The function of this branch is to develop the social or moral Sentiments, and pre­ pare the Child to become a true member of the body-social. This branch is unorganized; the germ exists in -the families of the rich, but in a feeble and artificial state. As a consequence, the honorable social Sentiments are almost wholly undeveloped in men. The feel­ ings of collective justice^honor, fright, and benevolence exist only exceptionally in a very few individuals. 3d Sub-branch: Intellectual Education. The function of this branch is to develop and cultivatejkthe Mind, and initiate the Child into the Sciences. The whole attention of men has hitherto been directed to this branch, and it has been developed and organized to some extent. Our schools, colleges, and universities are the results of the efforts to organize Intellectual Education. Under it, the chil­ dren of the rich receive a fair degree of mental training; and are much more developed intellectually than they are morally or indus­ trially. First Primary Branch of the Social Organism: The System oe Industry. The function of this branch is the creation of Wealth and the regulation of the relations of Man with Nature. At present it is unorganized or falsely organized, and does not second Man in his industrial labors and operations, especially those of a higher and more universal character. In the future, when scientifically organized, it will furnish him the means of executing his industrial function or destiny on the' earth; namely, that of cultivating and embellishing his globe, of developing and perfecting the animal and vegetable kingdoms upon it, of distributing them properly over its surface, and of establishing order and harmony in Nature. Man, the Overseer of the globe, the Beason of Nature, requires a scientifically organized system of Indus­ try to execute the vast industrial labors that devolve upon him. This first of the primary branches is composed of three sub-branches, which are: . 1. The Production of!Wealth, effected by agriculture, manu­ factures, the mechanic* arts, mining, transportation, the fisheries, and household labor. 2. The Exchange of Wealth, effected by commerce and bank­ ing. Commerce buys and sells, that is, effects the exchange of products already created. Banking gives credit, and credit is equivalent to the exchange of products, one of which is not as yet created. The first is synchronous exchange, the second exchange on-time. �228 THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 3. The Division- oe Wealth, effected or determined by the Laws and Customs of Society, which regulate the ownership of property, the system of labor, commerce, banking, the currency, interest, rents, etc. The custom of Slavery, for example, determines a division of wealth, based on the will of the master; it is different from that de­ termined by the system of Wages or hired-labor, which gives the la­ borer the right of refusal. Entailed estates, as the system exists in England, determines a division of the products of the earth different from that of the small proprietary system of Erance. The Commer­ cial system, as it now prevails in our unorganized and incoherent Industry, with its speculations, monopolies, and frauds, and its selfish individual action, determines a division of the wealth created by the first branch in a way most favorable to the commercial class. It is these Laws and Customs which regulate the Division or Distribution of Wealth among the different classes in society, and constitute the third sub-branch of the Industrial system. Second Primary Branch of the Social Organism: The System oe’ Social Institutions. The function of this branch is the regulation of the play and action of the social Sentiments in society, and of the social relations between human beings to which they give rise. Thesel Institutions are as yet in an undeveloped, and, consequently, in an un­ organized state; they exist in fact only in germ. When fully developed and organized in the future, forming part of a Scientific Social Or­ ganism, they will secure a full and harmonious action of the social Sentiments,—of those moral Eorces in man, which impel him to form ties of various kinds with his fellow-creatures—ties of Friendship, Love, Ambition, and Parentalism—and will lead to the creation of social order and unity in Society. This branch of the Social Organism places Man in sympathetic relation with Humanity, as the Industrial branch places him in relation with Nature. It is composed of four sub-branches: 1. System oe Rights and Obligations, regulating the social relations of human beings as members of the body-social, and as beings of the same species, without regard to sex, age, or capacity.' 2. System oe Marriage, regulating the sympathetic relations of the Sexes. 3. System oe Hierarchy, (of grades, ranks, honors, and dis­ tinctions in industrial, social, and political functions), regulating the relations of human beings.as functionaries and co-workers, according to capacity and merit. It is introduced in a more or less imperfect manner in government, the army, and the catholic church. 4. The Family System, regulating the relations of parents and children, and generally of the old and young, the strong and the . weak. These four Systems, when fully constituted and organized, will become four Cardinal Institutions, which. will develop fully and �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE lUTUR'E. 229 normally the four cardinal Social Sentiments in the human soul, regulate theirmction, and establish order and harmony in the Social relations to which they give rise. These Sentiments iare—1. Friendship or the ■■sentiment of humamequality and unity. 2. Love, or the symi - pathy betweeiuthe Jsexes. 3. The corporate and hierarchal Sentiment, called Ambition. 4. Parentalism, or the family Sentiment. These four Institutions, when truly and normally organized, will constitute a general o/ Laws and Ordinances, and of Rites, Ceremonies, Usages, and other external forms, which will correspond perfectly to the social Forces they are to govern; they will become the external Organism, through which these Forces will manifest themselves and act. Music furnishes an ^lustration that will render this intelligible. The r Scien^ of music consists of the laws of the Sense of Hearing; and the Art, orthe means and aids through which the Sense manifests itself and acts. The two constitute its external Form and Organism. With the aid of Music, the Sense is cultivated, and is truly and harmo­ niously developed. We may call Music, to render our idea clear, the Institution of the Sense of Hearing. When Institutions, as perfectly adapted to the four Social Se'htiments as Music to that Sense, are discovered and established, they will develop them as harmoniously as Muji^fdevmpps the musical Sense, and will create in the social world accords as beautiful as Music creates in its sphere. The social Senti­ ments, we will add, are in as low a state of development among the civilized masses as the Sense of Hearing among savages and barbarians. Third Primary Branch of the Social Organism: The System of Government. The functions of this branch is .the regulation of the conduct and action of Man in the extensive relations and combinations he forms with his fellow-men as a citizen of the body-politic. As men must form great political Associations or Communities, with complex and varied interests and relations, there must be Institutions, with their laws, ordinances and prescriptions, and their external forms, to In regulate these interests and Relations. They are the Political InstituMAonaErnd constitu^^ whole! called Government. They regulate the Political or collective relations of human beings, as the preceding Insti? tutions Lregulate their social and personal relations. This branch is composed of three sub-branches. 1. The Legislative Branch,E-the^creation of Laws and Ordinances. Legislation has been, first, Theocratic, having its source in the Emotions of theocratic rulers and law-givers, who attribute to inspiration or the Divine will the laws they promulgate; second, Monarchic and Oligarchic, having its source in the will of one or many Rulers; third, Democratic, having itsjourcepn the deliberations of legislative Bodies, Khat min the speculations and theorizing of human reason. The Laws derived from these three sources are all arbitrary, incomplete, or false,— those derived ‘from the ^speculations of Reason as well as the others. The true and scientific Legislation of the future will be based on the �230 THE CIVILIZATION Of THE FUTURE. Laws of order and organization in creation, according to which the government of the universe takes place.. The true function of Reason is to discover these Laws and employ them in the government of human relations and interests on the earth. 2. The Judiciary Branch,—the Interpretation of Laws and the explanation of their intent and purpose. This interpretation has been exercised; first, by Priests; second, by absolute Rulers; third, by civil Judges, appointed by the government or the people. In the future,— in the scientific Organization of Society,—it will be exercised by Men, who will be guided entirely by science, and who will restrict themselves to interpreting and explaining the laws of Nature. 3. The Executive Branch,—the enforcement of obedience to Laws, and their Execution. This function has been exercised in the past by agents of various kinds,—religious, military and civil, secret and open,—according as they served priesthoods, monarchies or democracies. At the present day, it is exercised in our civilized societies by men chosen for the purpose,—by sheriffs, constables, policemen, executioners, and others, employing as means the scaffold, prison, fines, exiling and other penalties. In a true social Organization, with the reign of universal education and wealth, and the normal development of the social senti­ ments, the vices and crimes of our unorganized and incoherent Socie­ ties will so far disappear, that the violent and brutal system of repres­ sion and constraint, now necessary, will be dispensed with, and replaced by one of direct incentives to, and of rewards and honors for, just and honorable conduct. Pivotal Branch: Religion. The function of this branch is to develop the Sentiments and the Intellect of Man in their higher degrees, to elevate them to universality, so as to awaken in him an interest in the cosmical Whole to which he belongs; that is, in the Humanities on its planets, its plan and design, and its laws and order, and thus associate him in feeling and thought with its cosmical life and destinies. Man, by his Senses and the physical wants they entail upon him, is drawn down to the material or animal plane of existence, and his sentiments and reason are subordinated to material and selfish con­ siderations. Now as the function of social Institutions, with the influ­ ence they exercise upon the social Sentiments, is to develop him morally,, and attract him to Humanity, thus elevating him in one direc­ tion above the animal plane; and the function of Science, with the influence it exercises upon the Intellect, is to develop him mentally, and attract hiigrto universal ideas, to laws and principles, thus eleva­ ting him in another direction above that lower plane; the function of Religion is to develop him both in sentiment and thought to the extent to excite in him an interest in the great Whole, to which he belongs, and of which he forms a part and is a member; and to seek to asso­ ciate himself with its cosmical operations. and destinies, and with the moral Order that reigns in it, thus raising him to the dignity of a citi­ �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 231 zen of the universe. As it is noble in Man to become a truly social being, associated in hisj sympathies with the whole of the Humanity to which he belongs, and a scientific thinker, associated in his thought with the Laws and Order of creation, it is nobler still to become ideally a universal being, associated with the Cosmos, his finite life linked in consciously with it, and participating through his aspirations in its grandeur and harmony, its destinies, and its eternal life. This pivotal branch is composed of three sub-branches, which, as they have existed and now exist, are: 1. Worship,—a System of Bites and Ceremonies, through which Man manifests his aspiration for Unity with Humanity, with the Uni­ verse and its spiritual hierarchies, and with God; and a System of Symbols by which he expresses through material forms, appreciable by the Senses, invisible and mysterious truths, which the intuitions of the Soul dimly apprehend. 2. Morality,—a System of Bules and Ordinances of conduct, of moral life on earth, based on the mind’s conception of the moral attri­ butes of the Deity—attributes to which he is stimulated to conform from desire of unity with God. 3. Theology,^-Theory of the Universe and its general destinies, of the immortality of the soul, and the Divine nature. These three elements of Beligion will in the future—in the normal social Organism of Humanity—be developed in a way widely different from what they have been and are in the incomplete and outlined Societies of the past and present. . „ , ( The Fine Arts. iTui, g0IBK0BSH| This branch accompanies the others, and is common to them all. The function of the Fine Arts is to embellish the other branches of the Social Organism, and establish refinement, beauty, and harmony in the material and the social world. The function of the Sciences is Organization and the creation of Order in all departments of human affairs. The Fine Arts comprise two sub-branches 1. The M atkrt at,. or the Fine Arts of the Senses, of which music, painting, sculpture, architecture, and tlje dance are the princi­ pal now developed. These Arts are external embodiments of the Senses in their measured or harmonious development and action. The Laws of the Arts are the modes of action of the Senses in this development. Music, for example, is the external expression or em­ bodiment of the Sense of Hearing,—of its perceptions distributed, co­ ordinated, and classified by the Intellect or organizing Faculty. There will exist, in the future, four Orders of this first Class of Art; namely, the Arts corresponding to Hearing, to Sight, to Taste, and to Smell. The Art which corresponds to Hearing—Music—has been fully de­ veloped. That which corresponds to Sight—Painting, Sculpture, �232 THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. Architecture, and Decoration—has been developed in outline; some empirical principles have been discerned by instinct, but the laws of visual Harmony are as yet unknown. The two Arts, corresponding to Taste and Smell, are not discovered, or even recognized; they will be­ come important Arts in the future, especially the first, and will hayp. their interpreters, as has Music at the present day. The Sense of Touch is the pivot or trunk out of which the other Senses spring or ramify, and has not its Art. 2. Social or Moral Art, or the Fine Arts of the Spot at. Sentiments. These Sentiments, when they shall receive a refinp.fi development, will, like the Senses, give rise to a system of harmonious expressions and forms, which will constitute a Harmony of Manners, that may appropriately be called the Fine Arts of the Social Senti­ ments. Its germs exist and are known under the name of Polite­ ness. When a complete system of politeness, with its various elements fully developed, such as urbanity, suavity, gracefulness, dignity, deli­ cacy, and refinement, is established, with a Code of Etiquette—the Laws or Science of the Art—we shall then see developed the new Art, and shall understand its vast importance in refining, elevating, and giving charm to the social intercourse of human beings. There will be four branches to this second Order of Art, corresponding to the four Social Sentiments that are to evolve it. Each Sentiment will have its own special Art, that is, a System of Politeness and Etiquette pe­ culiar to it. That .of Ambition will differ quite widely from that of Friendship. The former will sum up all the forms of - hierarchal dignity; the latter, those of frank and friendly equality. The Sciences, classified objectively, or according to the subjects of which they treat, form the following five sub-branches: 1. The Physical;—Theory of Matter and its Forces. 2. The Psychological;—Theory of Man, or theory of the mental Forces that impel him, and their social functions. 3. The Sociological;—Theory of Society and its Organization. 4. The Cosmological;—Theory of the Cosmos, of its constitution, organization, and order. 5. The Ontological;—Theory of pure Being or of primary Existence. (This latter is an illusive Science, which will be replaced by another.) A final Synthesis unites all these Sciences in one,—in a Pivotal or Trunk-science; namely, the Science of the Laws of Order and Har­ mony in the universe, according to which its various departments are governed, and its phenomena regulated. These Laws are the mani­ festation of the Supreme Reason, in action in creation—the Thought or Logic of the universe. The finite Reason of Man, constituted on the model of the Supreme Reason, (and it can be constituted on no other for there are no more two kinds of reasoning faculties than there are two kinds of mathematics), can discover and comprehend these Laws, �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE 233 and in so doing elevate itself to unity with its supreme Prototype, and obtain the Key to the special Sciences, which key is the Science of Laws, and underlies them all. With these brief explanations, we will sum up and present in tabular form the six branches of the Social Organism, so that it can be seen both as a whole and in its parts. SYNOPTICAL TTABLE OF THE SOCIAL ORGANISM, WITH ITS BRANCHES AND SUB-BRANCHES. Industrial Education EDUCATION. Social Education Preparation of the Germ. Scientific Education ( Development of the Body, and Ini| tiation of the Child into Industry. I Development of the Social Sentij ments, and Initiation.of the Child ) into Social life and true social re( lations. (Development of the Intellect, and < Initiation of the Child into the ( Sciences. Production of Wealth ■ INDUSTRY. Relation of Man to Nature. Exchange of Wealth Division of Wealth I Institution of Rights SOCIAL** Institution of Marriage INSTITUTIONS. I Hierarchal Institution Relation of Man to Hu? manity. Family Institution GOVERNMENT. Relation of Man to the > State. Legislative Branch. Judiciary Branch. Executive Branch. Worship RELIGION. Relation of Man to the Universe. Morality Theology The Fine Arts ACCESSORY BRANCH. The Sciences Agriculture, Manufactures, Min­ ing, Transportation, Fisheries, Domestic Production. Commerce. Banking. Laws and Customs that regulate landed property, capital, labor, commerce, the currency, interest, rents, etc. Laws that regulate the relations of human beings as equals. Laws that regulate the relations of the Sexes. Laws that regulate the relations of men as co-workers. Laws that regulate the relations of Parents and Children, and the family. Creation of Lawn. Interpretation of Laws. Execution of Laws. 'System bf rites, ceremonies, and symbolic acts by which Man manifests his unity with Human­ ity and with God. Explanation of spiritual truths by means of material emblems. ’Aspiration for unity with God, and desire for regulating human con­ duct in accordance with the Di­ vine Will—the true basis of Mo­ rality. Theory of the Divine nature, of Creation,—its cause and origin,— of Man’s cosmical destiny and his I I immortality. (The Material or Sensuous Arts. J The Social or Moral Arts. Science of the Laws of universal Order,—the Logic of the Uni­ verse. Basis of the five special Sciences. ( The table exhibits the branches (the special organs) of which the general social Organism is composed. It exhibits, as a whole and in its parts, the great external Body which a collective Soul creates for itself. Without the developing, educating and directing influence of a Social Organism, Man remains an undeveloped, .ignorant and gross being, but little raised above the level of the lower animals, as is proved 30 �234 THE CIVILIZATION ON THE FUTURE. by the social condition of the Savage. He elevates himself in propor­ tion as he improves his Social Organism, and when, in the future, he shall have discovered the true Laws of organization, and based it on them, he will attain to a social Destiny, worthy of the cosmical Wis­ dom that has planned the Order and Harmony of the universe,—an Order and Harmony in which Humanity is involved, and is ultimately to participate. The different social Organisms which have existed oh the earth since the beginning of history, are embodiments of the social concep-. tions, and the experience of the various Races that have established them, and mark the stages of the great social elaboration in which Humanity has been, and .still is engaged,—the elaboration being sub­ ject to the general Laws of development in creation,—the Laws that regulate Eyolution in all departments. We will explain briefly the order which has reigned in th&uccession of the social Organisms that have been so far elaborated and. established, the true character of these Organisms, and their place in the social career of Humanity on the earth. Our views, both of the order of succession and of the character of the Organisms, are deduced from the above Laws of Evolution, aided by the study of social phenomena in the past and present. In the course of the existence or the career of every finite thing, whether concrete and. tangible, like a. plant or an animal, or abstract and intangible, like a religion or a science, there exist two fundament­ ally distinct states. The one is the Formative or Fm&rgonic phase in the career,—the process of development from the germ or beginning to the organized and completed state. It is a preparatory, transitional and unorganized stage, during which the constituent elements dr parts of the finite thing are elaborated and prepared, and the process of their combination and organization takes place. The other is th® Formed, Organized and Completed state, and the normal and permanent condi­ tion of the finite thing,—its destination. In this second stage, the elements are fully developed and regularly constituted,—forming an organic Whole, which is the true or natural state. We thus find two distinct states or conditions of existence in every finite career:—the formative or embryonic, which is the inorganic state; and the fully developed and completed, which is the organic state. A few illustrations will explain this subject, and render clear the difference between the state of Formative development and of Organic completeness; between non-organization and organization. The physical organism of a human being is formed—gradually organized—in the mother’s womb. The elements of the new organism are brought together successively in this wonderful workshop, where the process of formation goes on for a fixed period, until the new being is organized, when it is ushered into the world by an operation called Birth. There are marked differences in the life, of a human being,—as that, for example, between infancy and adult age,—but none so radical �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 235 and distinct as that between the formative or inorganic state, preceding birth, and the formed and organic, following birth. • In the career of our globe, we find an illustration of these two great stages on a vast scale. The geological ages which preceded the appearance of the present flora and fauna and of Man, were the formative or embryonic phase in the career of the globe—a phase of elementary development and of immaturity, in which, the crust of the earth was formed. The present state is one of organic completeness, although in the early (infantile) organic stage, and susceptible of future develop­ ments. In the construction of an Edifice, we find an illustration of this Law of Evolution, for nothing can escape.it. When an edifice is to be built, the materials are collected, the foundations laid, the walls raised, the timbers put in, and the roof puk on. A process of construction (evolution or elaboration) takes place; and an incomplete and partially finished (formative and inorganic) stage precedes the completed (or­ ganic) state. When thejedific® has left the hands of the masons and carpenters, it is then painted and cleaned, and enters its true and organized state, or that designed for it, and becomes fit for habitation. It (thus passes, like a living organism, through a formative and inorganic stage—in all cases preparatory and transitional—to arrive at"one of completion and permanence. • All finite things must go through this process of development or formation, for nothing can pass at once from the germ to a fully organ­ ized and developed state. It is a necessity, inherent in the nature of things; and to change it, it would be requisite to annihilate time, space and succession, and the property of matter. A few examples in the sphere of the abstract and intangible will show that this Law of Evolution is not limited to material things. The Formative or Embryonic Stage in the Evolution of Christianity embraced the period extending from Christ to the Emperor Constan­ tine. The latter "in making Christianity the Religion of the State, gave it its regular constitution, which marked the period of its birth. During this phase, which lasted about three centuries, the elements of the Religion—its Worship, Morality and Theology—were elaborated, and regularly developed and organized. The state of full development and .<of complete organization, was that of the great Catholic Church, as inexisted between the 7th and 16th centuries. The Formative stage in the development of the Greek Civilization ^Comprised the heroic ages prior to Solon. During these ages, the ele­ ments of Grecian life were wrought out. The Laws established by that remarkable man may be said to have brought the fluctuating, and (for the Greek race) abnormal political state to a close. In the great Egyptian Civilization, the Formative stage embraced the Theocratic ages which preceded Menes, who established a Monarchy in the place of the Theocracies that had previously ruled the country; and brought. �236 TBE CIVILIZATION ON TNE FUTURE. Egypt under one government. The social life, industry, art, laws and religion of that race were developed during the reign of the Theocracies. The country was divided into nomes or districts with a theocratic ruler at the head of each. When the elements of society were developed and prepared, Menes established a unitary power, and organized one great" State. This event took place not less than 4,000 B. 0. The Formative phase, directed and controlled by the influence of Religion, must have reached back at least twenty-five centuries. The Formative—preparatory and preliminary—stage in the evo­ lution of the Science of Astronomy extends from the observations of the Egyptians and Chaldeans to the time of Copernicus, who, in 1543, published his discovery of .the true constitution of the Solar system This important discovery marked, we think, the birth of the science*®that is, placed it on a true or positive basis. From that time, the Science was rapidly developed by Kepler, Galileo, Newton, and others. Chemistry had a much shorter Formative phase in Alchemy. The labors and speculations of the Alchemists created the materials or elementsj of the science; its birth was determined in the last century by the dis­ coveries of Stahl, Priestley, Lavoisier, and others. A great Science is being developed at the present day—the' most important of all branches of knowledge—namely, Social Science. Glimpses of it were caught by Pythagoras and Plato; the latter, in his Republic, presents a plan of social Organization. The Embryonic preludes, the Transi­ tions to this Science, comprise, first, the Political and Economm theories of the past and present, which are a mass of incoherent and conflict­ ing speculations, based on no positive Laws; and, second, the special theories of social Organization, such as are contained in the Republic of Plato, the Utopia of Sir Thomas More, the City of the? Sun, and the Icaria of Cabet, which are equally without any scientific founda­ tion. Socialism, with its multiform doctrines, is the immediate pre­ cursor of the new Science, that is to be developed; it holds about the same relation to it that astrology held to astronomy, and alchemy^ to chemistry. The basis of a positive Social Science has been laid in the present age by Charles Fourier and Auguste Comte. The Science is born, that is, is regularly constituted, and awaits its full elaboration. Fourier has shown the true foundation on which the Organization of Society must rest, namely, the Laws of Order and Harmony in crea­ tion ; the Laws which underlie all Organization in Nature, and which regulate the distribution, co-ordination, and classification of her phenomena. Human Reason, he affirms, should not frame social theories of its own; its true work is to discover these Laws of Organ­ ization in Nature, and with their aid deduce the natural or scientific social Organization destined for Man. In his Organization of Indus-S try, his system of Education, his brilliant theory of “ Passional Har­ mony ” (which implies the possibility of regulating in accord or harmoniously the action of those mental and moral Forces in Man, �TEE Cl VILIZA TION OF THE FUTURE. 237 called sentiments, passions<etc.) ;• and in the extension of the Law of Attraction to the moral or passional world—all deduced from and based upon the general Laws of Order in Nature—he furnishes the special foundations of the first three branches of the social Organism. Comte has "shown that a certain ascending Order or Hierarchy exists in the Sciences, and that the lower sciences in the series point to, and provAlearly, that at the apex a Science of Society must exist. He thus demonstrates the possibility and the necessity of a Social Science, in doing which he has rendered it an immense service. With these remarks, we can enter upon the examination of the course which the Evolution of human Society has taken, and the Order that prevails in the succession of the different Systems of Soci­ ety which hatBbeen established on the earth. The evolution of human Society is subject to the Laws of proJgressiVfadevelopment which we pointed out. It must pass through a preparatory hnd transitional stage—the Formative or Embryonic—in order to arrive at a fully developed and organized state. Humanity is the agenF that? effects this great Evolution. It constructs the social Organisms und|r which it lives, and does so by successive stages as Nature constructs a globe? The elaboration is so vast that the individuSts'Bngaged in it cannot oversee the field of operations, and do not comprehend the work on which tlfoy are employed. This is true at least of the Formative Societies, when Humanity is without So­ cial Science to guide, it. These Societies, we will remark, are devel­ oped by theEoUecilm^iinstinctsjioi Humanity without any clear.idea of the results which are to follow. In the future, when the path shall be KWmingted by a positive social Science,, it will labor at its great Social Construction with a clear consciousness of its work. It isrevident, without recurring £0 general Laws, that Society must pass through the Formative and Preparatory stage of evolution de­ scribed.! Humanit^cannot leap at once from a primitive or Savage S^SyiiMmhwh it is without the elements of Society and without In­ stitutions^ to a state, of perfected Social Organization. It must first develop or prepare the elements of Society (Industry, the Arts, Sciences, on others), and discover the Laws by which they should be co-ordinated; and then mak^axperiments and acquire experience in applying such ‘ Laws^ It is as impossible for Humanity to construct its great Social Edifice without passing through the preliminary stage of creating and' putting to^Sher its parts, as for theS individual man to construct’an ■HM® without putting together the materials of which it is composed. The Social Organisms which have existed and are to exist on the earth, are to be divided into two great Classes. These Classes are based on th”two distinct\Stages in Evolution which we have pointed (mL^-th^Formative^ Preparatory and Inorganic; and the Formed, Completed and\ Organic. The first division of Societies is, then, deter­ mined by these two essential Stages in Evolution. The two Classes �238 THE CIVILIZATION OE THE EUTUR'E. differ from each other as much as Embryonic differs from Organic life, as immature and incomplete organization from complete and mature organization; or, choosing a concrete illustration, as the globe in its geological phases of development differed from the globe in its present condition; as an edifice in process of construction differs from the edifice finished and fit for habitation. The first Class of Societies comprises those that have existed from the beginning of history to the present time,—from the Egyptian Civilization, which was the earliest, to our modem Civilization. This first Class (Inorganic and Transitional) still exists, and determines the character of social phenomena, and the social condition of the races living under it. To exhibit clearly the important truth that human Society is still in the formative and transitional stage, and that our modern Civiliza­ tion is one of the inorganic Societies, would require an elaborate anal­ ysis. We will content ourselves with a few indications. 1. The first branch of the present social Organism—Education— is not only unorganized, but two of its sub-branches—the Industrial and Social—are so rudimentary that they can scarcely be said to have an existence. These two essential sub-branches must be developed, and the three scientifically organized,.before the organic statesin this department will be reached. 2. The second branch—Industry—which is the most advanced of any part of the social Organism, is still in an unorganized and in­ coherent state. As proof we find that Labor is prosecuted in a rude and repulsive manner in dirty workshops and lonely fields; that con- H H flict and antagonism exist in all interests and operations; that Com- ■ merce is at war with Production, which it spoliates, and Capital with Labor, which it oppresses; and that there is an entire absence of method, order and unity in the industrial world. If the Economists see in this unorganized field of operations justice, and even “ Har­ monies,” as does Bastiat, the student of social Science sees in it dis­ order, anarchy, strife, and servitude,—characteristics of Non-organization. When this important branch of Society shall be scientifically organized, it will be prosecuted with all the resources which the genius of man can invent, as War now is, .on principles of unity and co­ operation, and in a thoroughly scientific manner; it will, through such ' organization, be dignified and rendered attractive, and will become the most honorable, as Well as the most agreeable field for the exercise of the physical activity of Humanity. 3. Of the’ four Institutions which compose the third branch of the Social System, one only—that of Marriage—is regularly constituted. We will not stop to inquire how scientifically, that is, bow fully in accordance with the Sentiment to which it corresponds, and to which it should be adapted. The other three exist only in germ; they a.re wholly undeveloped, not to speak of being unorganized. �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 239 4. The political branch!-Government—is, so far as its elements are developed, much more regularly constituted,—a consequence of the necessity of establishing Order in Administrative affairs. But the element^ of a complete Political system are. only partially developed, and the conception of a scientific Government does not exist. The Republican form, which is the least imperfect; is but a fragment of the < integral and organic Government of the future. Strictly defined, it is the transition from political despotism to liberty. 5. The fifth or.Religious branch is in a general state of disintegra: -tion and decay,—at least as regards its Theology and Worship. The great Catholic .Unity jhas been broken into fragments—into sects— which are in conflict with each other, each denying the other’s dogmas, while thg progressive and scientific world attaches no importance to any of their theological systems. The second sub-branch—the Aspira­ tion for Unity with the spiritual universe and the desire for the reign of justi.c"and right on the earth—are as vitally active at the present day, we think,, as they have been in the past, but they cannot’ assume their religious form without the aid of a Theology and a Worship,—the first being the Intellect; the second, th® body of the Aspiration or Senti­ ment. Before this fifth branch*can be scientifically organized, the whole circle of the Sciences must be created, and the true Theory of the Cosmos discovered and established. 6. The accessory branch, comprising the Fine Arts and the Sci­ ences, is, as a whole, in an undeveloped state. There are, however, two exceptions which are very important. One Aft—Music—and one Science—Mathematics—are fully developed and organized. It would Seem as if Nature wished to furnish Man some models of scientific Organization as guides, and for this reason facilitated the creation of these two. All the Arts, except music, are still in the formative stage. Of the Scieiwes, a few of the Physical are placed on a positive basis, though not fully elaborated and constituted, while the higher branches of the Physical and the Psychological and Cosmological sciences are in a speculative and conjectural state,—in the embryonic phase of their development. These facts disclose the important truth that the general Evolution of human Society is still in its formative or embryonic phase, and that our modern Civilization is one of the imperfect and transitional so­ cieties, through which Humanity is passing in its onward march towards its social Destiny. The most general division of the great epochs in History shows, we think, that there are three of these distinctive systems of Society. They are the three great Civilizations which have been evolved and es­ tablished by the progressive and historical Races, by the Egyptian and the Chaldeo-Assyrian on the' one hand, and the Arian on the other. The out-lying Societies and races are, in a. primary analysis, to be left . aside, as they have exercised no direct influence on progressive history. �240 THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. The earliest Civilization—the Egyptian and the Chaldeo-Assyrian— was the creation of the first two races; its seat was the valleys of the ; Nile, and the Tigris and Euphrates. In it was begun the regular de­ velopment of the elements of society—industry, the arts, sciences, etc., —and the work of social construction; it governed the world of its epoch, and was its active history. The second Civilization was that developed by the black-eyed Arians—the Greeks and Romans; its seat * was the shores of the Mediterranean. In it the elaboration, begun in the first Civilization, was taken up and continued, and vastly extended. The third was that developed by the blue-eyed Arians, and mainly by the Germanic races; its seat was the whole continent of Europe. It inherited of the two preceding all that was essential and valuable, and continued the work of social evolution and construction, bringing it down to the present day. The Medes and Persians (Arians) founded great States, but effected nothing essentially new in social elaboration. The Hindoo Civilization, founded by the Brahminical Arians, was a failure, as Castes and other false institutions were established to hold in subjection the indigenous races that were conquered. These three great Civilizations form the three Orders of the first Class of Societies. We will present them in tabular form, to enable the reader to embrace them at a glance. FIRST CLASS OF SOCIETIES. The Formative and Inorganic. First Order : the Egyptian and ChaldeoAssyrian Civilization, with its branches— the Hebrew, Phoenician, etc. Second Order : the Greek and Roman Civ­ ilization, with its branches. Third Order : the Germanic, or the Catholico-Feudal Civilization, which still con­ tinues, but modified, and in process of dissolution and.transformation. Whether the classifications we have given, and' the various details into which we have entered, are strictly correct or not, is a matter of secondary importance. The great Truth which we have wished to set forth in a clear and distinct light is, first, that Humanity is still living in the Formative, Preparatory and Inorganic Societies,—in Socie­ ties which are not the true and final ones, are not its normal social state, its social Destiny; and, second, that a Class of Organic Societies—as radically different from the first Class as scientific Or­ ganization is different from incomplete or false Organization—remains to be discovered and established on the earth. If this fundamental truth were clearly comprehended, it would change entirely the views of Men on social questions,—on the true character pf the present system of Society, and the social Destiny of Humanity. It would unite the intellectual leaders of the world in a general and concerted effort to effect a fundamental social Reconstruc­ tion, and to organize Society on scientific principles. �THIS CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 241 In a future article, we will explain the fundamental and distinctive systems of; Society, which have existed up to the present time, show the stages through which Humanity has passed to reach its present F - social state, and indicate the4 nature of the constructive social labors which lie before it in the immediate future. In Connection with this subject of the progressive Evolution of human Society^ and of the distinction between the Inorganic and 'the ' Organiclsocieties, we will present what we believe to be the simple so­ lution of a problem that, from the beginning of history, has bewildered the human mind, and led it to the framing of innumerable false theo­ logical and metaphysical theories. The problem is the Cause of Evil. EhBs a general or synthetic term, which sums up all the effects resulting from the Non-organization, the incomplete, and the false Or- M ganization of the six branches of the social Organism. Its reign takes ■ plac^inth^Inorganic Societies. Poverty, for example, which, with its ■' ' privations and sufferings, is the great physical Evil that oppresses man­ hook, is caused by the false organization, of Industry; its product is, in the first pl^^ scanty, and in the second place, this scanty product Kisi*rvB.nequffably and unequally divided. Social or moral discords, or the dissensibns, hatreds, antipathies, jealousies, disappointments, and mental sufferings of human beings are caused by the false Organization of ^Wal IiRtitutions.,’ These Institutions thwart, violate, and pervert the social or moral Sentiments, and engender a class of effects which ■BonstitlnBivhat is called Moral Evil.j Political Evils, such- as war, op­ pression, and thejreign of monopoly and privilege, are caused by the false organization of political Institutions. Thejreign of Evil will come to a close with that of the Inorganic Br societies: the reign wdG-ood will begin with the inauguration of the r Organic, societies. Opposite phases of development produce opposite efS'fepts: this is a universal Law. It applies to all things—to the least as to the grdjTWEB If a fruit, when ripe or fully organized, is destined to be ■ • ■ agreeablHin flavor and healthy, it must, when green and unripe, be to a certain extent disagreeable in flavor and unhealthy. If order and harmony, with the happiness and elevation of mankind, are effects of Societies, scientifically and normally organized, disorder and dis­ harmony! with suffering and degradation, must be effects of Societies incomplerely and falsely organized^ Evil, as stated, is a general term. To be understood, it must be analyzed, so that it can be clearly seen in what it consists. In the analysis, of this general term we find’ three primary Classes of Evils. 1st Class : Evils in Man, comprising three Orders. ’ 2d lClass : Evils in Society,’comprising five Orders. 3dKJl1ss: Evils in Nature, or the material world around man, comprising six Orders. The Evils in Man are the result of the perversion of his nature by • the influence of incomplete or false social Institutions, causing a fq]se 31 K �242 * THE CIVILISATION ON THE FUTURE. development of the Senses, of the social Sentiments, and of the in­ tellectual Faculties. This first Class contains three Orders Order, comprising the effects of the false development of the Senses,—which development gives rise to sensual excesses, coarseness, brutality, selfishness, and vices and crimes of a material character. 2(Z Order, comprising the effects of the misdirection and perversion of the social Sentiments, giving rise to antipathies, hq^reds, jealousies, antagonisms and discords, and disorders of a moral character. Each of the social Sentiments, when violated and outraged, takes a false de­ velopment and produces effects exactly the opposite of its true nature. Friendship and Love, for example, engender hatred, distrust, jealousy, suspicion, coldness, etc., instead of the sympathy, confidence, devotion, and other noble feelings which are natural to them. Benevolence turns to malevolence, and philanthropy to misanthropy, under long disappointment. These false or inverted developments of the social Sentiments are the source of what are called, moral Evils. 3d Order, comprising the effects of the misdirection of the Intel­ lectual Faculties, and of their ’subordination to the Senses and the social Sentiments in their inverted development. In this state; they engender craft, cunning, low intrigue, deception, hypocrisy, duplicity, deceit, falseness, treachery, perfidy, and o.ther subversive effects- of an intellectual character. 2d Class,—Social Evils. They include the various effects of an * incomplete or false Organization of the five branches of the social Or­ ganism :—Education, Industry, Social Institutions, Government, and Religion. A few’ examples will explain this branch of the subject, without entering into details. Poverty and disease, the coarseness of the masses, and other Phys­ ical Evils are caused by the false Organization of 'Industry, or the second branch of the social Organism. The product of our ‘false In­ dustry is, in the first place—comparatively to the wants ,of man—very scanty; and in the next place, it is very inequitably divided. Here is the true Cause of Poverty,—the explanation of the mystery of one. of the Evils that afflicts man. Debility and disease—other Evils—have their source, directly, in the prolonged and excessive! toil of our un­ organized Industry ? indirectly, in the effect which its repulsiveness produces of driving the rich from it, and causing them to lead a life of idleness and inactivity. The existence of antagonist and antipathetic classes in society, of social inequality, the pride of caste, the subordination of Woman, the tyranny of false and capricious customs, and other similar abuses are caused by the false Organization of Social Institutions, or the third branch bf the social Organism. Tyranny, servitude, war, class privileges, monopoly, and abuses of a political character are caused by the false Organization of Government, or the fourth branch of the social Organism. ✓ �TSE CIVILIZATION OF TEE FUTURE. 243 Superstition,Ifana’ticisnT, intolerance, blind faith, persecution, and religious abuses generally are engendered under the influence of false Religious Ins&tutions, and especially of false Theologies. 3dEvils, in Nature. They comprise the disorders that re­ sult from a derangement of the climate, the atmospheric system, and other departments of Nature, and are caused by the neglect of cultiva­ tion, falsmcultivation,. and ravage of the surface of the globe by man, that is, by the false industrial action of Humanity on its planet. These disorders (Evils in the physical world) consist in—1. The Derangement ofxbtt^&n^ manifested in violent fluctuations of temperature, excess of heat and cold, late and early frosts, draughts and prolonged rains, and the uncertainty of the seasons. 2. The Derangement of the AtmoSfflkeric manifested in violent storms, hurricanes, tornadoes, Cyclone" and disturbance in the proportion of the elements of the atmosphere. 3. Pervert causing epidemic diseases, such as the plague, cholera, and yellow and other fevers. 4. "Disorders in the ^egekablf-agx^^i/mal kingdoms, such as the oidium in the vine, potato rot and onderpest, and the excessive spread of destructive insects and vermin, and of weeds. 51 Perturbation of the electro-magnetic forces of t^garth, peiwading the other departments, and giving rise to phenomena, now inexplicable! (possibly to earthquakes.) 6. False state of the ^^P^ofulfflalobe. exhibited in the great deserts (looked upon as the! natural and unchangeable condition of the planetary surface); in theRwamps,.marshes, jungles, and arid steppes; the devastated and ruined regions (like the Tigro-Euphrates basin); the treeless districts, and the denuded mountain ranges. These great physical disorders or evils! whichEn^belieyed to be natural and permanent, are in fact due to thanon-cultivationf bafllcultivation, ravage and devastation of the globe by manrj He exercises an immense influence for good or evil on his planet, He can, for example, destroy the forests on ’the mountains of a country, dryingmp the Streams, and rendering a region sterile that beformwas Wtil^. The great'physical disorders that now exist in Na­ ture will disappear under a system of universal and scientific cultiva­ tion, and such a system will l>fput in execution when Industry shall be scientifically organized, and dignified and rendered attractive, so as to induce all mankind to engage voluntarily in it; when the Industrial policy shall become entirely preponderant, as it will, over the military, Iconm^^yll^^Mfirmncial policies; when the material resources of Society shall be devotedgto industrial improvements; and when Humanity shall comprehend its collective function or destiny—that of Overseer of the globe, and the creations upon it. When the labor, treasures, and talent that have been devoted in the past to war, shall be devoted to a systematic (cultivation and embellishment of the globe, it will become in a few generationsEaBgarden. a scene of material har­ mony and unity! ^Themgn of Evil is" o cease with the reign of the Inorganic So- �244 THE CIVILI ZATIO 2V OE THE FUTURE. cieties, it being the general expression of their disorders and discords. The reign of Good is to begin with that of the Organic Societies. Two classes of opposite social effects will be generated by opposite social states. Wealth and Health will be secured by a scientific Organization of Industry. Social Concord and Harmony by a scientific Organization of Institutions, adapted to the social Sentiments. Political Justice, prac­ tical Liberty, universal Peace, by the scientific Organization of political Institutions. The full development of the Child, by the scientific Organization of the three branches of Education. The real and prac­ tical Sentiment of the Unity of the race, and its ideal association with the cosmos, by a universal Science (a true theology) which will explain to it its Destiny on the earth, and the plan and order of creation and its place in it. ‘ The duration of the inorganic and transitional Societies is relatively short, as is the inorganic (embryonic) phase in the career of the indi­ vidual man. That of the organic and normal Societies ?is relatively long, as is the period of organic development in man when compared to that of gestation. In this organic and long period which lies before Humanity in the future, the reign of Good will hold sway; and the Order and Harmony (the result of Organization) which pervade all spheres of the Universe where normal .Organization exists, will be realized on the earth. The formative and inorganic phase of development can, in no de­ partment of creation—no more in the development of a social Organism than of a human being or a globe—be avoided, unless finite creations cease, and time and space, and succession and matter, are annihilated. In this phase, effects are engendered and phenomena take place which must, from a mathematical necessity, be different’from, and in many cases exactly the opposite of,those of the1; organic state. It. is these effects and phenomena—abnormal and transient—that constitute Evil. From the earliest Civilization of Man—that on the banks of the Nile—down through the Chaldeo-Assyrian, the Greek and Roman, and the Oatholico-Feudal of the middle ages to our own, but one great Sys­ tem of Society has existed and held its sway. There have been different, stages in its progressive evolution, giving rise to the different Orders pointed out, accompanied by different manifestations and phenomena on the surface, but with Unity of Principles underneath. The ap­ parently long duration of this System, with the reproduction of the same effects—the^ same Evils—under different forms, has misled the human mind, and caused it to frame the erroneous Induction that it is the permanent and natural social state of mankind, destined, with its discords and miseries, to last forever. This erroneous Induction, this reasoning falsely from the known to the unknown, has -blinded men on social questions; it has destroyed hope in the future, and faith in 'human nature, and has paralyzed and still paralyzes all studies on / / �THE CIVILIZATION OF THE FUTURE. 245 the part of the thinkers and. intellectual leaders of the world on the vast problem of a Social Reconstruction, and of happier social destinies for Man. A new Civilization is to come—the true and normal Civiliza­ tion of Humanity, based on the full development of the elements of the six branches of Society, and their scientific Organization. It will come, accompanied by the reign of Good; that is, of that Order, Harmony, and Unity which are the general Law of creation, and which prevail wherever preparatory Development or Evolution is ac­ complished, and scientific Organization has taken place. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The civilization of the future: necessity of the organization of society on scientific principles Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Brisbane, A. Description An account of the resource Place of publication: New York Collation: [225]-245 p. ; 26 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. From Modern Thinker, no. 1, 1870. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [American News Company] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1870] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5425 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <p class="western"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br />This work (The civilization of the future: necessity of the organization of society on scientific principles), identified by <span style="color:#0000ff;"><span lang="zxx"><u>Humanist Library and Archives</u></span></span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</p> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Society Civilization Conway Tracts Social Reform Society https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/c5a15f6b17b809785930417df25ff2e8.pdf?Expires=1782345600&Signature=NpimOzOne3zOTJYuNBm%7ETzn3%7E52AoSTWxrSAjWoxnISx0apiSXogtKScR4LjSGP2LRODUUybVDu0CUNYxPHsWoXT8C6A67CMVAISAQQYyd-BIGOO3mZgRDDWqUly9bgPgKhiBzMBeZ9Y2HHSP%7EA%7ElHGG51y8pL1WbtZQT0GJGr7b4u6thvMB6toW75FO5gsDoTQ6KluIrUsiEWHc85%7E%7E0xajn7q0UQRbgJcPWzNU0VeZ4ZXlwVjNbgBZ-8nIeErf3NiC3tehr4RNeuci592jKthA67YWtFhqKjQuhj1SZyhUKYipac0R65h87jQ6hLayG-IUhdOuOBMgyY0BV2Aj4A__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 214192575c2bc526dc32f11eaf85a580 PDF Text Text THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. BY FREDERIC HARRISON. HE interest which the system known as Positivism awakens in public attention is so vastly in excess of any knowledge of the writings of Comte, and of any attempts at propagandism made by his followers, that it may afford matter for some curious reflection. On the one hand, we have one of the most voluminous if not the most elaborate of all modern philosophies, com­ posed in a foreign language and a highly technical style. Those who have honestly studied, or even actually read, these difficult works may be numbered on the hand; and no methodical exposition of them exists in this country. The full adherents of this system in England are known to be few; and they but very rarely address the public. Among the regular students of Comte two or three alone find means occasion­ ally to express their views, and that for the most part on special sub­ jects. Such is the only medium through which the ideas of Comte are promulgated—a mass of writings practically unread; a handful of disciples for the most part silent. On the other hand, the press and society, platform and pulpit, are continually resounding with criticism, invective, and moral reflection arrayed against this system. Reviews devote article after article to demonstrate anew the absurdity or the enormity of these views. The critics cut and thrust at will, well knowing that there is no one to re­ taliate ; secure of the field to themselves, they fight the battle o’er again; thrice have they routed all their foes, and thrice they slay the slain. Religious journalism, too, delights to use the name of Comte as a sort of dark relief to the glowing colors of the Scarlet Woman. Semi-re­ ligious journals detect his subtle influence in everything, from the last poem to the coming revolution. Drowsy congregations are warned against doctrines from which they run as little risk as they do from that of Parthenogenesis, and which they are yet less likely to under­ stand. Society even knows all about it, and chirrups the last gossip or jest at afternoon tea-tables. Yet even under this the philosophy of Comte survives; for criticism of this kind, it need hardly be said, is not for the most part according to knowledge. Some such impression is left by the glaring inconsistencies which appear among the critics themselves. They have so easy a time of it in T �50 THE POSITIVIST PBOBLEM. piling up charges against Positivism, that they, in a great degree, dis­ pose of each other. According to some, for instance, it would promote a perfect pandemonium of anarchy. With others it means only the “paralyzing and iron rule of law.” With some it is the concentration of all human energy on self; with others, an Utopia which is to elimi­ nate self from human nature. Now it is to crush out of man every instinct of veneration for a superior being; now it is to enthrall him in a superstitious devotion. The followers of Comte are at once the vota­ ries of disorder and of arbitrary power; of the coldest materialism and the most ideal sentimentalism; they are blind to everything but the facts of sensation, yet they foster the most visionary of hopes; they execrate all that is noble in man, and yet dream of human perfectibility. In a word, they are anarchists or absolutists; pitiless or maudlin; ma­ terialists or transcendentalists, as it may suit the palette of the artist to depict them. Now all of these things cannot be true together. If it is proved to the satisfaction of a thousand critics that Positivism is a mass of absur­ dity, why need we hear so much about it ? How can that still be dangerous which is hardly ever heard of but in professed refutations, and known only through adverse critics ? It is strange that a writer, as they tell us, of obscure French, such as no one can make sense of, who finds in this country but an occasional student, should need such an army to annihilate him. If he were responsible for one-tenth of the contradictory views which are put into his mouth, he is self-condemned already. No house so divided against itself could stand, to say nothing of the critical batteries which thunder on it night and day—religious, scientific, literary champions without stint, warning an intelligent public against a new mystery of abominations. “ Dearly beloved,” cries the priest, “beware of this soul-destroying doctrine of Humanity!” “ Science has not a good word for it,” cries the man of physics, “ to say nothing of its irreligion! ” and so makes a truce with the man of God. “ And literature has a thousand ill names for it,” cry out the brazen tongues of the press through all its hundred throats of brass. Yet, withal, the thoughts of Comte seem still to live and grow, to flourish without adherents, and to increase without apostles. They must be in some way in the air; for all that men see is the refutation of that which none study, the smiting of those who do not contend. Epur si muove ! Those to whom the system of Comte is of serious moment would be but of a poor spirit if they lost heart under such a combination of assaults, or took pleasure in the signs of so wide-spread an interest. A perpetual buzzing about a new system of thought can as little do it good as it can do it harm. The students of Comte would be foolishly sanguine if they set this down to real study or serious interest in his system. They would be culpably weak if they supposed it was due to any efforts of their own to extend it. �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 51 However much Positivism may desire the fullest discussion, little can come of criticism which does not pretend to start with effective study. As a system it demands far too much both in the way of sustained thought and of practical action, to gain by becoming merely a subject of social or literary causerie. The platoon firing of the professional critics, and the buzz of the world, may become fatiguing; but both in the main are harmless, and in any case appear to be inevitable. But when we look below the surface a different view will appear. However few are they who avow Positivism completely, its spirit per­ meates all modem thought. Those who teach the world have all learnt something from it. The awe-struck interest it arouses in truly relig­ ious minds shows how it can touch the springs of human feeling. Men of the world are conscious that it is a power clearly organic, and that it is bent on results. And even the curiosity of society bears witness that its ideas can probe our social instincts to the root. It cannot, indeed, be denied that so general an interest in this subject is itself a significant fact; and though it be not due to anything like a study of Comte, and most certainly to nothing that is done by his adherents, it has beyond question a cause. This cause is that the age is one of Construction—and Positivism is essentially constructive. Men in these times crave something organic and systematic. Ideas are gaining a slow but certain ascendency. There is abroad a strange consciousne*ss of doubt, instability, and incoherence; and, withal, a secret yearning after certainty and reorganization in thought and in life. Even the special merits of this time, its candor, tolerance, and spirit of inquiry, exaggerate our consciousness of mental anarchy, and give a strange fascination to anything that promises to end it. We have passed that stage of thought in which men hate or despise the religious and social beliefs they have outgrown—their articles of religion, constitutions of State, and orders of society. We feel the need of something to replace them more and more sadly, and day by day we grow more honestly and yet tenderly ashamed of the old faiths we once had. At bottom mankind really longs for something like a rule of life, something that shall embody all the phases of our multiform knowledge, and yet slake our thirst for organic order. Now there is, it may be said without fear, absolutely nothing which pretends to meet all these conditions—but one thing, and that is Positivism. There are, no doubt, religions in plenty, systems of science, theories of politics, and the like; but there is only one system which takes as its subject all sides of human thought, feeling, and action, and then builds these up into a practical system of life. Hence it is that, however imperfectly known, Positivism is continually presenting itself; and though but little studied, and even less preached, it ceases not to work. It proposes some solution to the problem which is silently calling for an answer in the depths of every vigorous mind that has ceased to be satisfied with the past. It states the problem at least, and nothing else does even �52 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. this. Thus, in spite of every distortion from ignorance or design, the scheme of Positivism has such affinity for the situation that it is ever returning to men’s view. For whilst mankind, in the building of the mighty tower of Civilization, seem for the time struck as if with a con­ fusion of purpose, and the plan of the majestic edifice for the time seems lost or forgotten, ever and anon there grows visible to the eye of imagination the outline of an edifice in the future, of harmonious de­ sign and just proportion, filling the mind with a sense of completeness and symmetry. An interest thus wide and increasing in a system so very imperfectly known, proves that it strikes a chord in modern thought. And as among those who sit in judgment on it there must be some who hon­ estly desire to give it a fair hearing, a few words may not be out of place to point out some of the postulates, as it were, of the subject, and some of the causes which may account for criticisms so incessant and so contradictory. It need hardly be said that these words are offered not as by authority, or ex cathedrd, from one who pretends to speak in the name of any body or any person whatever. They are some of the questions which have beset the path of one who is himself a disciple and not an apostle, and the answers which he offers are simple sugges­ tions proposed only to such as may care to be fellow-hearers with him. It is of the first importance for any serious consideration of Posi­ tivism to know what is the task it proposes to itself. For the grounds on which it is attacked are so strangely remote, and appear to be so little connected, that perhaps no very definite conception exists of what its true scope is. There is much discussion now as to its scientific dogmas, now as to its forms of worship, now as to its political prin­ ciples. But Positivism is not simply a new system of thought. It is not simply a religion—much less is it a political system. It is at once a philosophy and a polity; a system of thought and a system of life; the aim of which is to bring all our intellectual powers and our social sympathies into close correlation. The problem which it proposes is twofold: to harmonize our conceptions and to systematize human life; and furthermore, to do the first only for the sake of the second. Now this primary notion stands at the very root of the matter, and if well kept in view it may spare much useless discussion and many hard words. Thus viewed, Positivism is really not in competition with any other existing system. It is hardly in contrast with any, because none is in pari materid—none claims the same sphere. No extant re­ ligion professes to cover the same ground, and therefore with none can Positivism be placed in contrast. Christianity, whatever it may have claimed in the age of Aquinas and Dante, certainly in our day does not profess to harmonize the results of science and methodize thought. On the contrary, it is one of the boasts of Christianity that its work is ac­ complished in the human heart, whatever be the forms of thought and even of society. It cannot therefore be properly contrasted with Posi­ �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 53 tivism, for they are essentially disparate, and the function claimed by the one is not that claimed by the other. So, too, Positivism is hardly capable of comparison with any existing philosophy. There are many systems of science and methods of thought before the world, but they insist on being heard simply as such, and not as being also religions, or schemes of life. They stand before the judgment-seat of the intellect, and they call for sentence from it accord­ ing to its law. Such social or moral motive as they rest on is ade­ quately supplied in the love of truth and the general bearing of knowl­ edge on human happiness. Their doctrines ask to stand or fall on their own absolute strength, and are not put forward as a mere intro­ duction to a form of life. Not but what, of course, philosophers, ancient and modern, have elaborated practical applications of their teaching to life. But no modern philosophy, as such, puts itself forth as a part of a larger system, as a mere foundation on which to build the society, as a major premise only in a strict syllogism of which the con­ clusion is action. Now this the Positive philosophy does. Positivism therefore is not a religion, for its first task was to found a complete system of philosophy: nor is it á philosophy, for its doctrines are but the intellectual basis of a definite scheme of life: nor a polity, for it makes political progress but the corollary of moral and intellectual movements. But, though being itself none of these three, it professes to comprehend them all, and that in their fullest sense. Thus it stands essentially alone, a system in antagonism strictly with none, the function and sphere of which is claimed by no other as its own. Criticism which ignores this primary point, which deals with a sys­ tem as if its end were something other than it is, can hardly be worth much. And thus viewed, a mass of popular objections fall to the ground. For instance, a continual stumbling-block is found in politi­ cal institutions and reforms which Positivism proposes—institutions which are wholly alien, it is true, to our existing political atmosphere, and which could hardly exist in it, or would be actively noxious. But these are proposed by Positivism only on the assumption that they fol­ low on and complete an intellectual, social, and moral reorganization by which society would be previously transformed, and for which an adequate machinery is provided. No value can attach therefore to any judgment on the political institutions per se, tom from the soil in which they are to be planted, crudely judged by the political tone of the hour. No serious judgment is possible until the social and intel­ lectual basis on which they are to be built has been comprehended and weighed, and found to be inadequate or impossible. But this is what he who criticises the system from a special point of view is unwilling or unable to do. So with the philosophy—we often hear indignant protests against the attempt made by Comte to organize the investigation of nature. Nothing is easier than to show that the organization proposed might �54 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. check the discovery of some curious facts, or the pursuits of certain seekers after truth. But the same would be true of any organization whatever. The problem of human life is not to secure the greatest ac­ cumulation of knowledge, or the vastest body of truth, but that which is most valuable to man; not to stimulate to the utmost the exercise of the intelligence, but to make it practically subservient to the happi­ ness of the race. The charge therefore that the Positive philosophy would set boundaries to the intellect by setting it a task, is not to the purpose, even if it were true. This might be said of almost every re­ ligion and any system of morality. The very point in issue is whether the true welfare of mankind is best secured by the absolute independ­ ence of the mind, going to and fro like the wind which bloweth whither it listeth. Thus, too, in criticising the religious side of Positivism, it is argued that it fails to provide for this or that emotion or yearning of the re­ ligious spirit; that it leaves many a solemn question unanswered, and many a hope unsatisfied, and has no place for the mystical and the In­ finite, for absolute goodness, or power, or eternity. Be it so. The objection might have weight if Positivism were offering a new form of theology, or came forward simply as a new sort of religion. But the problem before us is this—whether these ideas can find a place in any religion which is to be in living harmony with a scientific philosophy. We are called on to decide whether, since these notions are repugnant to rational philosophy, religion and thought must forever be divorced, and whether we must choose thought without religion, or religion without thought. Positivism, if it has no place for the mystical or su­ pernatural, has the Widest field for the Ideal and the Abstract. It holds out the utmost reach for any intensity of sentiment. Nor could its believers fail in a boundless vista of hope; of hope which, while it is substantial and real, is not less ardent, and far more unselfish, than the ideals of' older faiths. Positivism maintains that supposing estab­ lished such a scientific and moral philosophy as it conceives, inspiring a community so full of practical energies and social sympathies as that which it creates, a rational religion is possible, but such hopes and yearnings would be practically obsolete, supplanted by deeper and yet purer aspirations. They would perish of inanition in a mind or a so­ ciety really imbued with the relative and social spirit. They had -no place under the practical morality and social life of past ages. They would have none, it argues, under the scientific philosophy and the public activity of the future. The truth of this expectation cannot possibly be estimated without a thorough weighing both of the philos­ ophy and of the polity which it is proposed to found, and a very sys­ tematic comparison of their combined effects. To treat philosophy, religion, or polity without regard to the place each holds in the general synthesis, is simply to beg the question. It is much more to the purpose to argue that the general synthesis which �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 55 Positivism proposes to create is not needed at all, or even if needed, is perfectly chimerical. Certainly it is a question which cannot be dis­ cussed here; and perhaps it is one which cannot be settled by any dis­ cussion at all. It seems one of those ultimate questions which can only be determined by the practical issue, and which no a, priori argument can touch. Solvetur ambulando. It has been most vigorously treated by Mr. Mill in his estimate of Positivism, and, like all that he has said on this subject, deserves the most diligent thought. After all, it may be the truth that this question of questions—if human life be or be not reducible to one harmony—is one of those highest generalizations which the future alone can decide, and which no man can decide to be impossible until it has been proved so. In any case, those who have no mind to busy themselves with any system of life or synthesis of social existence whatever—and they are the great bulk of rqankind—may well be asked to spare themselves many needless protestations. Positivism most certainly will not trouble them; and the world is wide enough for them all. Still less need of passionate disclaimers and attacks have all they who are hon­ estly satisfied with their religious and social faith as it is. Positivism looks on their convictions with the most sincere respect, and shrinks from wounding or disturbing the very least of them. How much waste of energy and serenity might be spared to many conscientious persons if these simple conditions were observed! Positivism is in its very essence unaggressive and non-destructive; for it seeks only to build up, and to build up step by step. It must appeal to very few at present, for the first of its conditions—the need of a new System of Life—is as yet admitted only by a few. It must progress but slowly as yet, for its scheme is too wide to be compatible with haste. If all of those who are alien to anything like a new order of human life, and all those who are satisfied with the * order they have lived under would go their own way and leave Posi­ tivism to those who seek it, a great deal of needless irritation and agi­ tation would be happily averted. The idea that thought and life may some day on this earth be reduced to organic order and harmony may be Utopian, but is it one so grotesque that it need arouse the tiresome horseplay of every literary trifler? And though there be men so un­ wise as to search after this Sangreal in a moral and intellectual re­ form, is their dream so anti-social as to justify an organized hostility which amounts to oppression? Incessant attempts to crush by the weight of invective, fair or unfair, a new system of philosophy, which appeals solely to opinion, and which numbers but a handful of adher­ ents for the most part engaged in study, are not the highest forms of intelligent criticism. Positivism as a system has nothing to say to any but the very few who are at once disbelievers in the actual systems of faith and life, and are believers in the possibility of such a system in the future. To the few who seek it, it presents a task, as it fairly warns them, requiring prolonged patience and labor. The rest it will scarcely �56 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. trouble unless they seek it; and perhaps it will be better that they should leave it alone. Little can come of eternally discussing the solu­ tion of a problem which men have no wish to see solved, or of multi­ plying objections to what they have no mind to investigate. Positivism, then, consists of a philosophy, a religion, and a polity; and to regard it as being any one of these three singly, or to criticise any one of them separately, is simple waste of time. Its first axiom is, that all of these spheres of life suffer from their present disorder, because hitherto no true synthesis has been found to harmonize them. This axiom is obviously one which must meet with opposition, and in any case be very slowly accepted. The very notion of system and organiza­ tion implies subordination in the parts, submission to control, and mutual concession. The unbounded activity, independence, and free­ dom of the present age, not to say its anarchy and incoherence, quiver, it seems, in every nerve at the least show of discipline. Yet any species of organization involve discipline, and any discipline involves some re­ straint. Of course, therefore, any scheme to organize thought and life presented in an age of boundless liberty and individualism meets oppo­ sition at every point. To show that Positivism involves a systematic control over thought and life is not an adequate answer to it. To prove of a new system that it is a system is not a final settling the question until you have first proved that no system can be good. All civilizartion and every religion, all morality and every kind of society, imply some restraint and subordination. The question—and it is a question which cannot be decided off-hand—is whether more is implied in the system of Positivism than is involved in the very notion of a synthesis, or a harmony co-extensive with human life. It is worthy of notice how entirely new to modern thought is this cardinal idea of Positivism—that of religion, science, and industry working in one common life—how little such an idea can be grasped * in the light of the spirit of the day! Yet so far is it from being an extravagant vision, that it sleeps silently in the depths of every brain which ever looks into the future of the race. None but they who dwell with regret on the past, or are engrossed in the cares of the present, doubt but what the time will come when the riddle of social life will be read, and the powers of man work in unison together; when thought shall be the prelude only to action or to art, and action and art be but the realization of affection and emotion; when brain, heart, and will have but one end, and that end be the happiness of man on earth. And thus while priest, professor, and politician forswear the scheme which Positivism offers, and society resounds with criticism and refu­ tation, none believe it overcome or doubt its vitality; for it remains the only conception which pretends to satisfy an undying aspiration of the soul. Whether the pursuit of system or harmony be carried out by Comte extravagantly or not is, no doubt, a question of the first importance. �t THE ii a pa R p r B POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 57 It is certainly one which there is no intention of discussing here. But in any case it is not to be decided lightly. Mr. Mill, as has been said, has argued this question-with all that power which in him is exceeded only by his candor. But which of the other critics have done the like ? A criticism like that of Mr. Mill is a totally different thing, and worthy of all attention. Nor must it be forgotten how largely, in criticising Positivism, he accepts its substantial bases. Nothing can be more disingenuous than to appeal to the authority of Mr. Mill as finally disposing of the social philosophy of Comte, when Mr. Mill has adhered to so much of the chief bases of that philosophy in general, and has warmly justified some of the most vital features of the social system. A system may be false, but it is not false solely because it is a system. It might very possibly be that harmony had only been attained by Positivism at the expense of truth or life, by doing violence to the facts of Nature, or by destroying liberty of action. But this is a matter depending so much on a multitude of combined arguments and on such general considerations, that it can be decided only after long and patient study. It clearly cannot be done piecemeal or at first sight. And of all questions is the one in which haste and exaggeration are most certain to mislead. Let us follow a little further each of the three sides of Positivism— the Philosophy, the Religion, the Polity—in order, but not independ­ ently, so as to put before us the goal they propose to win and the main obstacles in their path. The grand end which it proposes to philosophy is to give organic unity to the whole field of our conceptions, whether in the material or in the moral world, to order all branches of knowl­ edge into their due relations, and hence to classify the sciences. Even if the unthinking were to regard this project as idle or extravagant, every instructed mind well knows that it is involved in the very nature of philosophy, and has been its dream from the first. Can it be neces­ sary to argue that the very meaning of philosophy is to give system to our thoughts ? What are laws of nature but generalizations ? what are generalizations but a multitude of facts referred to a common idea ? what is science but the bringing the manifold under the one ? Knowledge itself is but the study of relations; and the highest knowl­ edge, the study of the ultimate relations. And as science has no meaning but the systematizing of separate ideas, so the grand systematizing of all ideas has been the ceaseless aim of philosophy. What else were the strange but luminous hypotheses of the early Greeks? what else was the colossal task of Aristotle? what else that of the elder Bacon and his coevals, of the other Bacon, of Descartes, of Leibnitz, of the Encyclopaedists, of Hegel ? That order is the ultimate destiny of all our knowledge is so ob­ vious that the effort to found it at once can be met only by one objec­ tion worthy of an answer, and that is that the aim is premature. It is very easy to see that the earlier attempts, when even astronomy was in­ �58 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. complete and the moral sciences outside the pale of law, were utterly premature. But whether the task is premature now is entirely dif­ ferent. After all, it is one of those questions which no a priori argu­ ment can affect. It is not premature if it can be even approximately done. Yet the mere suggestion of it arouses a myriad-headed oppo­ sition. In every science and every sub-section of a science a specialist starts forth to tell us that generations of observers are needed to ex­ haust even his own particular corner in the field of knowledge. And if one science is to become but the instrument of another, if one kind of inquiry is to be subordinated to another, we should fetter, they tell us, the freedom which has led to so many brilliant discoveries, and leave unsolved many a curious problem. The answer of Positivism is simply this: If the systematizing of knowledge will be premature before all this is accomplished, it will always be premature. The end for which we are to wait is one utterly chimerical. No doubt there are no bounds to knowledge, any more than there are bounds to the universe. As Aristotle says, thus one would go on for ever without result; so that the search will be fruitless and vain. Nay, if we go by quantity, estimate our knowledge now as compared with the facts of the universe, we are but children still play­ ing on the shore of an infinite sea. If, before philosophy can be formed into a systematic whole, every phenomenon which the mind can grasp in the inorganic or in the organic world has to be first ex­ amined—every atom which microscope can detect, every nebula which telescope can reach—if every living thing has to be analyzed down to the minutest variation of its tissues, from infinitesimal protozoa to palaeontologic monsters—if every recorded act, word, or thought of men has to be first exhausted before the science of sciences can begin —the task is hopeless, for the subject is infinite. A life of toil may be baffled by the problems to be found in one drop of turbid water. Ten generations of thinkers might perish before they had succeeded in explaining all that it is conceivable science might detect on a withered leaf. And whole academies of historians would not suffice fully to raise the veil that shrouds a single human life. Were science pursued indefinitely on this scale, not only would the earth not contain all the books that should be written, but no conceivable brain could grasp, much less organize, the infinite maze. The task of organization would thus be made more hopeless each day, and philos­ ophy would be as helpless as Xerxes in the midst of his countless hosts. The radical difference between the point of view of the positive and the current philosophy, that which feeds the internecine conflict between them, is that between the relative and the absolute. Looked at from the absolute point of view—that is, as the phenomena of mat­ ter and life present themselves from without—the task of exhausting I he knowledge of them is truly infinite, and that of systematizing them is truly hopeless. From the relative point of view philosophy is called �THE P OSITIVIST PROBLEM. 59 on to exist, not for its own sake, but as the immediate minister of life. To utilize it, and to organize in order to utilize it, is of far higher im­ portance than to extend it. It judges the value of truths, not by the degree of intellectual brilliancy they exhibit, or the delight they afford to the imagination, but by their relation, in a broad sense, to the prob­ lem of human happiness. Till this great problem is nearer its solution, Positivism is content to leave many a problem yet unsolved and many a discovery unrevealed. It sees life to be surrounded by such problems as by an atmosphere “ measureless to man; ” for life rests ever like an island girt by an ocean of the Insoluble, and hangs like our own planet, a firm and solid spot suspended in impenetrable space. What is the test of true knowledge, when phenomena, facts, and therefore truths, are actually infinite? The fact that this or that gas has been detected in a fixed star is, no doubt, a brilliant discovery in the absolute point of view; but, in the relative, it might possibly turn out to be a mere feat of scientific gymnastic—the answer to a scientific puzzle. The discoverer of many a subtle problem may be, absolutely speaking, entitled to the honor of mankind; but relatively, if his problem is valueless, he may have been wasting his time and his powers. Hence the special professors of every science are the first to resent the principles and the judgments of the relative mode of thought. They cannot endure that their intellectual achievements should be judged by any but scientific standards, or their inquiries directed by any but scientific motives. The whole conception of the relative method differs from theirs. It calls for the solution first of those problems in each science which a systematic philosophy of them all indicates as the most fruitful sources of inquiry: it enjoins the fol­ lowing of one study and science for the sake of and as minister to another, and of all for the sake of establishing a rational basis for human life and activity. And this not in the vague general spirit that all knowledge is good, and all discoveries useful to man, and no one can tell which or how. The same objection was brought against Aristotle and Bacon when they proposed their Organa, or clues to inquiry. All truths may have some value, but they are not equally valuable. The claim of the relative is to test their value by a system of referring them to human necessities. It sees the life of man stumbling and wander­ ing for the want of a foundation and guide of certain and organized knowledge. Each hour the want of a rational philosophy to direct and control our social activity is more pressing, yet the absolute spirit in science, vain-glorious and unmindful of its function, shakes off the idea of a yoke-fellow, and widens the gulf between thought and life by soli­ tary flights amidst worlds of infinite phenomena. It is sometimes pretended—it must be said rather perversely—that this relative conception of science is akin to the stifling of thought by the Catholic Church. It is of course true that the Holy Inquisition, like most dominant religions, did claim the right, in virtue of its �60 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. divine mission, of dictating to the intellect certain subjects as forbid­ den ground, and warning it off from these limits; it dictated to the intellect the conclusions which it was required to establish, and the methods it was permitted to use—and this not on intellectual, but on religious and supernatural grounds. Positivism neither dictates to the intellect nor hampers its activity. It calls on it on grounds of philos­ ophy, and on demonstrable principles, to work in its own free light; but by that light, and at its own discretion, to choose those spheres and to follow those methods that shall combine harmoniously with a scheme of active life as systematic as itself. This is utterly distinct from the slavery of the mind, according to the Catholic or any other religious notion. The comparison is as simple a sophistry as to argue that it is slavery in the will deliberately to follow the dictates of conscience. No one who has given the subject a second thought can suppose that Positivism, in bringing the intellect into intimate union with the other sides of human nature for the direct object of human happiness, intends thereby to confine it to the material uses of life, or to refer every thought to some immediate practical end. The former is mere materialism ; the second simple empiricism; and both utterly unphilosophical. On the contrary, by far the noblest part of the task of the mind is to minister to moral and spiritual needs. And by far the most of its efforts are employed in strengthening its own powers, and amass­ ing the materials for long series of deductions. Philosophy, as Positiv­ ism conceives it, would annihilate itself by becoming either material or empirical. Its business is to systematize the highest results of thought; but those results are the highest which are most essential to, and can be assimilated best by, human life as a whole. And no system can be the true one but as it orders all thoughts in rela­ tion, first to each other, and, secondly, in relation to every power of man. Can it be needful again to say that the attempt of Positivism to systematize the sciences is very far from implying that there is but one science and one method, or that it would reduce all knowledge to one set of laws. Its chief task has been to show the boundaries of the sciences, to classify the different methods appropriate to each, and to point out how visionary are all attempts at ultimate generalizations. When men of science tell us that processes of reasoning are used indis­ criminately in all sciences, and that all scientific questions are ulti­ mately referable to one set of laws, they are going back to the infancy of philosophy, effacing all that has been done to analyze reasoning, and attempting, as of old, to reach some chimerical, because universal, principle. It is but the materialist phase of the metaphysical problem. Supposing all questions of science, including all social questions, as has been proposed, not apparently in jest, could be reduced to questions of molecular physics, how would this serve human life more than if they were reduced to air, water, or fire ? The end of specialism is at hand �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 61 if science is looking for some ultimate principle of the universe. The search is equally unpractical, whether it be pursued by crude guessing or by microscopes and retorts. It would not help us if we knew it; and as Aristotle says of Plato’s idea, the highest principle would contain none under it. It would be so general as to support no prac­ tical derivatives. Like all extreme abstractions, it would bear no fruit. Turn on whichever side we will, we meet this conflict between the relative and the absolute point of view. The absolute burns for new worlds to conquer; the relative insists that the empire already won, before all things, be reduced to order, and knowledge systematized in order to be applied. The absolute calls us to admire its brilliant dis­ coveries ; the relative regrets that such efforts were not spent in dis­ covering the needful thing. The absolute claims entire freedom for itself; the relative asks that its labors be directed to a systematic end. It is the old question between individual and associated effort—the spontaneous and the disciplined—the special and the general point of view'. We might imagine the case of a general with a genius for war, such as Hannibal or Napoleon, carrying on a campaign with a hetero­ geneous host and a staff of specialist subordinates. He desires to learn the shape of a country, the powers of his artillery, the fortification of his camp, or the engineering of his works. He seeks to master each of these arts himself, so far as he has means, and for his ultimate end. But with his specialists he wages a constant struggle. His geographer has a thousand points still to observe to complete his survey. His en­ gineers start curious problems in physics, and each science has its own work, as each captain of irregulars may have his pet plan. It may be true that much may be needed before any of the branches can be thoroughly done ; and the scheme of some subordinate officer might possibly destroy a certain number of the enemy. But the true general knows that all these things are good only in a relative manner. His end is victory, or rather conquest. Thus it is not only intelligible, but quite inevitable, that Positivism should meet the stoutest opposition from the science of the day, not only in details and in estimates, but even in general conceptions, and yet not be unscientific. The strictures of men even really eminent in special departments are precisely what every system must encounter which undertakes the same task. That all such should make them, more especially if they be inclined to theology, or devotees of individ­ ualism, is so entirely natural that any answer in detail must be an end­ less task. By their fruits you shall know them. Let us see them pro­ duce a system of thought more harmonious in itself and more applica­ ble to the whole of human life. Every new philosophy which proposes to change the very point of view of thought has always incurred fierce oppo­ sition. Every new religion and social system has seemed to its predeces­ sors an evil and cruel dream. How much more a system which involves at once a new philosophy, a new religion, and a new society; which brings �62 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. to thought a change greater than that wrought by Bacon or Descartes; which draws a spiritual bond vaster and deeper than that which was conceived by Paul, and founds a social system that differs from our own more than the modern differs from the ancient world. Whether the actual solution of the problem of systematizing thought as worked out by Comte in all its sides, his statement of natural laws, and his classification of the sciences, be adequate or true, is a matter which it is far from our present purpose to discuss. It would be for­ eign to our immediate aim, and impossible within our present limits. But there is a stronger reason. It would be simple charlatanry in one without due scientific education to undertake such a task as that of examining and reviewing a complete encyclopaedia of science. The natural philosophy of Comte is a matter which no one could undertake to justify in all its bearings without a systematic study of each science in turn. Looking at it from the point of view of philosophy, and with that relative spirit which the sense of social necessities involves, a dili­ gent student of the system, who seeks to satisfy his mind on it as a whole, can form a sufficient opinion, at least so far as to compare its results with any other before us. After very carefully considering the strictures passed on Comte’s classification of the sciences and his state­ ment of the principal laws, it does not appear to the writer that one of them will hold. If we are to shelter ourselves under authority, we may be content with that of M. Littré, Mr. Mill, and Mr. Lewes. We are too apt to forget the great distinction between philosophy and science, and the paramount title of the former. Men of science are far too ready to decide matters of philosophy by their own lights, matters which depend far less on knowledge of special facts than on the gen­ eral laws and history of thought, and even of society. Nor does there appear to be any weight in some strictures which have recently been published in this Review on the positive law of the three stages and the classification of the sciences, the greater part of which objections have been already anticipated and refuted by Mr. Mill—part of which are obvious misconceptions of Comte, and part are transparent sophisms. On the whole, it may be fairly left to any one who seriously seeks for a philosophy of science, and is prepared to seek it with that patience and breadth of view which such a purpose requires, to decide for him­ self if he can discover any other solution of the problem, the general co-ordination of knowledge as a basis of action. Let us now for a moment turn to the system viewed as a religion, not with the slightest intention of reviewing it, much less of advocating it, but simply to see what it is, and what it proposes to do. Its funda­ mental notion is that no body of truth, however complete, can effect­ ually enlighten human life; no system of society can be stable or sound without a regular power of acting on the higher emotions. There are in human nature capacities which will not be second, and cannot be dispensed with. There are instincts of self-devotion and of �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 63 sympathy, love, veneration, and beneficence, which ultimately control human life, and alone can give it harmony. Though not the most active either in the individual character, or even in the social, these powers are in the long run supreme, because they are those only to which the rest can permanently and harmoniously submit. Each sepa­ rate soul requires, to give unity to the exercise of its powers, a motive force outside of itself: for the highest of its powers are instinctively turned to objects without. The joint action of every society is in the long run due to sympathy, and to common devotion to some power on which the whole depends. There thus arises a threefold work to be accomplished—to give unity to the individual powers; to bind up the individuals into harmonious action ; to keep that action true and per­ manent—unity, association, discipline. Without this the most elabo­ rate philosophy might become purely unpractical or essentially im­ moral, the most active of societies thoroughly corrupt or oppressive, and the result throughout the whole sphere of life—discord. Nothing but the emotions remain as the original motive force of life in all its sides; and none of the emotions but one can bring all the rest and all other powers into harmony, and that is the devotion of all to a power recognized as supreme. To moralize both Thought and Action, by inspiring Thought with an ever-present social motive, by making Action the embodiment only of benevolence—such is the aim of reli­ gion as Positivism conceives it. Now, without debating whether the mode in which Positivism would affect this be true or not, adequate or not, it is plainly what every system of religion in its higher forms has aimed at. And accord­ ingly we see the singular attraction which this side of Positivism pos­ sesses for many orthodox Christians. It is entirely their own claim; and, indeed, there nowhere exists in the whole range of theological phil­ osophy an argument on the necessity for and nature of religion in the abstract at all to be compared with that in the second volume of the “ Politique Positive.” Passing over the question whether Positivism has carried out this aim by methods either arbitrary or excessive, it is plain that every system which can claim to be an organized religion at all, has had a body of doctrine, a living object of devotion, observances of some kind, and an associated band of teachers. It is not easy to see how there could be anything to be rightly called a religion without them, or something with equivalent effect. A mere idea is not a religion, such as that of the various neo-Christian and Deist schools. The hostility, therefore, which the religious scheme of Positivism awakens is one involved of necessity in the undertaking, and should count for very little until it is seen that its critics are prepared fairly to consider any such scheme at all. Those who are most disposed to feel any interest in the scientific or political doctrines of Positivism are just those who almost to a man reject worship, Church, and religion altogether. This, for the most part, they have done, not on any gen­ �64 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. eral philosophical reasons, but simply from antipathy to those forms of devotion they find extant. Whether, in rejecting the actual forms of them now or hitherto presented, the very spirit of these institutions can be eliminated from human nature and from society, is a question which they care neither to ask nor to answer. But in treating of the Positive, or any scheme of religion, this is the question at issue. Nor must it be forgotten that so much is the vital spirit of all religious institutions extinct in modern thought, that even if the doctrines and ceremonies of existing churches escape ridicule by virtue of habit and association, forms less familiar, however rational in themselves, would be certain to appear ridiculous, as doctrines far more intelligible and capable of proof would appear chimerical to men accustomed to listen calmly even to the Athanasian Creed. Fully to conceive the task which Positivism as a religion has set itself to accomplish, much more fairly to judge how its task has been done, requires the mind to be placed in a point of view very different from that of the actual moment. How little could the most cultivated men of antiquity, who never looked into the inner life of their time, estimate the force of early Christianity, or the most religious minds of the middle ages accept the results of modern enlightenment! What an effort of candor and patience would it have proved to any of these men to do justice to the system which was to supersede theirs, even if presented to their minds in its entirety and its highest form 1 It is inherent in the nature of every scheme which involves a great social change that it should bring into play or into new life powers of man­ kind hitherto dormant or otherwise directed. Whether it be right in so doing, or whether it do so to any purpose, is the question to decide; but it is a question the most arduous which can be put to the intelligence, and involves protracted labor and inexhaustible candor. Random criti­ cism of any new scheme of religious union is of all things the most easy and the most worthless. It can only amuse the leisure of a trifler, but it deserves neither thought nor answer. Positivism in the plainest way announces what is its religious aim and basis. The partisans of the actual creeds may of course resist it by any means they think best. But as it certainly does not seek them, nor address any who are at rest within their folds, they cannot fairly complain of being scandalized by what they may find in it for themselves. Those who attack it from independent grounds show but small self-respect if they do so without accepting the first condition of their own good faith, which is patiently to weigh it as a whole. And those who fairly intend to consider it to any purpose may be assured that they are undertaking a very long and perplexing task; that much of it must necessarily seem repugnant to our intellectual tone. A system which professes to be co-extensive with life and based upon proof would be mere imposture if it could be accepted off-hand as true or false, if it did more than assert and illus­ trate general principles, or if it ended in closing the mind and leaving �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 65 man but a machine. The real point in issue is whether it be possible to direct mankind by a religion of social duty, if humanity as a whole— past, present, and to come—can inspire a living devotion, capable of permanently concentrating the highest forces of the soul; whether it be possible to maintain such a religion by appropriate observances and an organized education. This is the true problem for any serious inquirer, and not whether a number of provisions admittedly sub­ ordinate approve themselves to the first glance. To travestie a new system by exaggerating or isolating its details is a task as easy as it is shallow. In its third aspect—that is, as a polity—what is it that Positivism proposes ? It is a political system in harmony with a corresponding social and industrial system, tempered by a practical religion, and based upon a popular education. The leading conception is to subordinate politics to morals by bringing the practical life into accord with the intellectual and the emotional. The first axiom, therefore, is this— that permanent political changes cannot be effected without previous social and moral changes. This is a scheme which may be said to be wholly new in political philosophy. Every political system of modern times hitherto has proposed to produce its results by legislative, or at all events by practical changes, and has started from the point of view that the desired end could be obtained if the true political machinery could be hit upon. It is the starting-point of Positivism that no machinery whatever can effect' the end without a thorough regeneration of the social system; and when that is done, the machinery becomes of less importance. The principal thing, then, will be to have the ma­ chinery as simple and as efficient as possible. Political action, like all practical affairs, must in the main depend on the practical instinct. And the chief care will be to give the greatest scope for the rise and activity of such powers. But as the social system is to be recast, not by the light of the opinion of the hour, but by a study of the human powers as shown over their widest field, so the leading principles in politics will find their rational basis in no corner of modern civilization, but in the history of the human l’ace as a whole and a complete analy­ sis of the human capacities. Let us see what this involves. From the nature of its aim it can­ not be revolutionary in the ordinary sense. The very meaning of revo­ lution is a radical and sudden change in the constitution of the state. Now, apart from its condemnation of all revolutionary methods, Posi­ tivism insists that all political changes so made must prove abortive. But, besides this, it repudiates disorder as invariably evil, and insists that every healthy movement is nothing but the development of the past. But at the same time the change to which it looks is of the greatest extent and importance. It is thus the only systematic attempt to conciliate progress and order, one which effects revolutionary ends by a truly conservative spirit. Of all charges, therefore, that could be �66 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. made against Positivism, that of being anarchical is the most super­ ficial. The attempt to connect it with disorder and sedition is scan­ dalously unjust. To the charge of being reactionary the best answer is a simple statement of the future to which it looks forward. That it contemplates a benevolent despotism is an idle sneer, for it conceives the normal condition of public life as one in which the influence of public opinion is at its maximum, and the sphere of government at its minimum. But just in proportion to the width of the system on which Positive politics rest is the degree of opposition which it awakens. Adapting to itself portions from each of the rival systems, it alienates each of them in turn. It is impossible to do justice to the greatness o£*past ages, and still more to revive anything from them, without offering a rock of offence to all the revolutionary schools. And it.is impossible to pro­ pose a reorganization of society at all without alarming the conserva­ tive. These alternations of interest in and antipathy towards Positivist politics, these bitter attacks, these contradictory charges, belong of necessity to the undertaking, and need surprise no one. But those who profess to know what they undertake to criticise, those to whom all matters human and divine are open questions, who spend their time but to hear or to tell some new thing, such, one would think, would be careful that they understand the conditions on which a new system of thought is based. This hasty outline of the task which Positivism undertakes—the mere statement of its problem—may suffice to explain the continual interest it excites, and also the incessant hostility it meets. Let any one fairly ask himself—if it be possible to accomplish such a task at all without necessarily provoking a storm of opposition, and if the success of the system as a whole could possibly be estimated without a patience which, it may be said, it almost never receives. The mere variety of the objects which it attempts to combine, while interesting men of the most opposite views, of necessity presents to each some which utterly repel him. It is impossible to reconcile a Babel of ideas without for­ cing on each hearer many which he is accustomed to repudiate. The man of science, who is attracted by the importance given to the physi­ cal laws, starts back when it is proposed to extend these laws to the science of society. The student of history, who sees the profound truth of the philosophy of history, is scandalized by the very idea of a creed of scientific proof. The politician foi* a time is held by the vision it presents of social reforms, but he is disgusted at hearing that he must take lessons from the past. The conservative delights to find his an­ cient institutions so truly honored, to be shocked when he finds that they are honored only that they may be the more thoroughly trans­ formed. The man of religion is touched to find in such a quarter a profound defence of worship and devotion, only to be struck dumb with horror at a religion of mere humanity. The democrat, who hails �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 67 the picture of a regenerated society, turns with scorn from an attempt to lay the bases of temporal and spiritual „authority. The reactionist fares no better; for if he finds some comfort in the new importance given to order, he dreads the results of an unqualified trust in popular education and the constant appeal to public opinion. Those whom the philosophy attracts, the religion repels. Those whom the moral the­ ories strike shrink back from the science. Those who believe in the forces of religion are no friends of scientific laws. Those who care most for the progress of science are the first to be jealous of moral control. It is simply impossible, therefore, to address with effect all of these simultaneously without in turn wounding prejudices dear to each. It could not be that the sciences could be organized without hurting the susceptibilities of specialists everywhere, and it is the spirit of our time to create specialists. To bridge over the vast chasm between the Past and the Future, to co-ordinate the opinions and the emotions, to satisfy the heart as well as the brain, to reconcile truth with feeling, duty with happiness, the individual with society, fact and hope, order with progress, religion with science, is no simple task. The task may be looked on as hopeless, the solution of it may be derided as extravagant; but if it were presented to men “ by an angel from heaven,” it would sound strange to the bulk of hearers, men to whom such a notion is alien, who have sympathy neither with the object nor the mode of pur­ suing it. Hence the unthinking clamor which Positivism excites. To the pure conservative it offers a fair mark for fierce denunciation. To the jester it offers an opening for easy ridicule, for it offers to him many things on which he has never thought. But by a critic of any self-respect or intelligence it must be treated thoroughly, or not at all. There are persons devoid of any solid knowledge, of the very shreds of intellectual convictions, of any germ of social or religious sympathies,— specialists ex hypothesis—to whom a serious effort to grapple with the great problem of Man on earth is but the occasion for a cultivated sneer, or a cynical appeal to the prejudices of the bigot. Non ragioniam di lor. It must be plain to any one who gives all this a fair judgment that the students of Comte could not possibly suffice for all such contro­ versies, were they ten times as numerous as they are. The critics of Positivism attack on a hundred quarters, and with every weapon, at once. Only those who seriously interest themselves in the progress of thought must remember that they are continually listening to mere travesties, which it is worth no man’s while to expose, and to criticisms which no one cares to answer. They would have only themselves to blame if they choose to suppose that no answer could be given. Now and then some striking case of misrepresentation has to be dealt with ; but, as a rule, the students of Comte are of necessity otherwise engaged. Controversy is alien to the whole genius of Positivism, for the range of objections in detail is entirely infinite. Positivism must make way, �68 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. if at all, like all efforts at construction, by its synthetic force, by its co­ herence, and its fitness for the situation. If it has this, it can be neither hindered nor promoted by any controversy, however brilliant as a performance. It is not an infrequent comment that the points of the Positive sys­ tem are so widely remote and heterogeneous, that it appears somewhat discursive. They are no doubt far apart from each other, and appar­ ently, perhaps, disconnected. But it would be a most superficial view to regard them as desultory. Now and then these principles are heard of m matters of practical politics,—now in pure science, in religion, in industry, in history, or in philosophy. But this is a necessity of the case, and is a consequence of the connection between all these, which it is the aim of Positivism to enforce, and of their general dependence on common intellectual foundations. Its great principle is, that the errors hitherto committed are due to the separate treatment of these cognate phases of life and thought. And if it treats in turn very different sub­ jects, it is by virtue of this very doctrine that each must be viewed in its relation to the other. That individuals defending these principles wander out of their course, and fall into inconsistencies, is their weak­ ness, not that of the system. Positivism itself stands like an intrenched camp, presenting a continuous chain of works to the beleaguring forces around. Within its own circle the system of defence communicates immediately to, and radiates from, its centre, while the attack, being unorganized and ranged in a circle without, is spread over a vastly greater area. It stands as yet almost entirely by the strength of its own walls and the completeness of its works, and not by that of its defenders within. Metaphor apart, let any one in common fairness consider what stu­ dents of Comte have to meet. The philosophical basis alone covers a ground far apart from the ordinary education so wide that nothing but general views of it can be possible. To be intelligently convinced of the truth of the Positive Philosophy in a body in such a way as to be a capable exponent, requires, first, a previous preparation which very few have gained; and, secondly, a weighing of the system by that knowl­ edge step by step, in bulk and in detail, which perhaps not five men in this country have chosen to give. It need not be said that the present writer has as little pretension to belong to one class as to the other. But there is no reason why men, positivist in spirit and in general aim, should feel bound to defend every point in turn in a vast body of phil­ osophy for which they are not responsible, and which in its entirety they do not pretend to teach. A student of Positivism may hold that which he believes to be true without being concerned to maintain every suggestion of Comte’s, which to the infinite wisdom of some critics may appear ridiculous. Deductions of the kind they are fond of treat­ ing are just what a serious student bent on mastering a body of prin­ ciples leaves as open or indifferent matters, and trusts to the future to �THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. 69 decide. Besides, even on the assumption that many of these deduc­ tions, and even some of these principles, were preposterous or false, still, as Mr. Mill has well pointed out, the same might be said of every known philosopher. Aristotle, Bacon, and Descartes have sown their whole works broadcast'with the wildest blunders. What a flood of cheap rid­ icule their contemporary critics had at their command I What a mass of absurdity might not a smart reader discover who for the first time were to glance through the Ethics of Aristotle, or the Organum of Bacon 1 Yet even if the system of Comte were as full of absurdities as those of these philosophers—which I am far from conceding—this would not prevent his philosophy from being as valuable a step in thought as any of the three. There seems a disposition to force men who become students of Comte and accept generally the Positive sys­ tem, as they might in their day have accepted the Aristotelian or the Baconian philosophy, to defend every statement of Comte’s, as if it were a question of verbal inspiration. It seems that men in this country are at liberty to profess themselves adherents of every system of thought but one. A man may—one or two do—study and uphold the princi­ ples of Hegel. Benthamism is a creed with living disciples. Mr. Mill may be called the chief of a school. A fair field is open to all of these, at least in any field which is open to freedom of thought. But if a man ventures to treat a public question avowedly from the Positive point of view, he is assailed by professed friends to free inquiry as if he were an enemy of the human race, to whom the ordinary courtesies are denied; and some of the commonest names that he will hear for him­ self are atheist, fanatic, and conspirator. Respecting the actual adherents of Comte, perhaps a few words may be permitted, and, indeed, a few are required. It is not usual in this country to “ picket ” the ordinary doings of a school in politics or opinion, even though you do happen to differ from them. But in the case of Positivism it seems to be thought allowable to dispense with such scruples. Accordingly, the most ordinary utterance of one of those whom they dub as a member of the school is at once set down by anonymous persons as some fresh act of what they are pleased to call " this malignant sect.” The mode in use is a very old, a very simple, but not a very candid plan: it consists only in this—the describing every one who has adopted any Positivist principle as a professed disci­ ple of Comte; next, of attributing to each of such persons everything that any of them or that Comte has at any time countenanced; and lastly, of ascribing to Positivism and to Comte, every act and almost every word of any of these persons. And the world seems to relish any preposterous bit of gossip about Positivist churches and ceremo­ nies, schemes, plots, and what not 1 One can hardly keep one’s coun­ tenance in doing it, but it seems necessary to state that all this illnatured gossip is the childish stuff such gossip invariably is. As to telling the world anything about the “ sect ”—“ malignant ” or other­ �70 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. wise—there is nothing to tell. Whatever else may be true about Posi­ tivism, publicity is its very essence—vivre au grand jour—in thought, word, and deed, according to the motto of Comte; and every act and statement it makes is open to any one who cares to look. The utmost publicity about persons, congregations, rites, and preaching, by all means. But the gossip need not be untrue as well as impertinent. As is well known, Dr. Richard Congreve, who has adopted the system and practice of Comte in its entirety, has occasionally made an address to a small audience, and has subsequently published his discourse. He has also from time to time given a course of lectures open to the public. Those who like himself definitely accept Positivism as a re­ ligion, and regard themselves as a community, of whom it should be said the present writer is not one, occasionally have met together. But the various observances instituted by Comte are scarcely practicable here. It is obvious that it must be so. A religion, a worship, and an education such as Comte conceived them, are not possible in all their completeness without a body of persons and families steadily desirous of observing them. It need hardly be said that the materials for this do not as yet exist in this country. A system like Positivism does not easily receive complete adherents. It is not like any of the religious, political, or socialist systems—like Swedenborgianism or CornmnuiRm —a simple doctrine capable of awakening a dominant fanaticism. It cannot possibly be preached beside a hedge or in a workshop, and gain converts by the score, like Methodism or Chartism. To promulgate it duly requires a fresh education, followed by a long course of systematic meditation. To form an honest and solid conviction upon a body of philosophy thus encyclopedic requires years of study. Accordingly, the number of those who have completely accepted the system of Comte as a religion, among whom it has been said the present writer cannot count himself, is small. To treat every student of Positivism and avowed adherent of Comte’s system as a member of a sort of secret society, and then to pretend that this supposed society is engaged in a series of religious and political plots, the amusement of some busybodies, is an idle impertinence. These tales are worthy only of an imperialist journal describing an apparition of the Spectre Rouge. The fact that there are men not so nervously afraid of being associated with an unpopular cause as to be engaging in constant controversy or defence, is no honest ground for including them in a body to which they do not belong, for fastening on them any design, whether they have countenanced it or not, and any opinion,whether they adopt it or not. That there are men who think it their duty to say plainly what they think, and to say it always under the guarantee of their own names, is no good cause, though it makes it easy for masked opponents, to eke out the argumentum ad rationem by a free use of the argumen­ tum ad hominem. If all such attacks, which are the portion of any man who dares to treat a question from the Positivist point of view, �THE POSITIV IST PROBLEM. are for the most part unanswered and unnoticed, the reason most as­ suredly is, not that they are true, but- that they are unworthy of answer. But enough of such matters. These petty questions of an hour are but dust in the balance by which this question must be weighed. However little it may be thought that Positivism has solved its problem, it can hardly be said that the time is not ripe for its task, that there is nothing that calls for solution. Into what a chaos and deadlock is opinion reduced in spiritual as in practical things! Who seriously looks for harmony to arise out of the Babel of sects which have arisen amid the debris of the Catholic Church ? Or are any of the Pantheist or Deist dreams more likely to give unity to the human race ? The 'dogmas of Christianity have been by some refined and adapted away until nothing is left of them but an aspiration. Qan an aspiration master the wild confusion of brain and will ? And has even the most unsparing of adaptations brought the ancient faith really more near to true science or to active life ? To science, that which cannot be reduced to law is that which cannot be known, and the un­ knowable is a thing of naught. Activity on earth can be regulated only by a real not a fictitious, a natural not a supernatural standard. By their very terms, then, the various forms of spiritualism shut them­ selves off from the world of knowledge and the world of action; and, more or less distinctly, they assume an attitude of antagonism to both. And yet, on the other hand, is there any better prospect of harmony in the ignoring of religion altogether? The men of science and of action from time to time form desperate hopes for the triumph of their own ideas and the ultimate extinction of religious sentiment. With them it is a morbid growth of the human mind—a weakness bred of ignorance or inaction. They chafe under the grossness of an age which will not be content with the pure love of truth or with the fruits of material success. Yet to how shallow and slight a hope do they trust! Human nature under the influence of its deepest sentiments- venera-. tion, adoration, and devotion—rises up from time to time, and snaps their thin webs like tow. Errors a thousand times refuted spring up again with new life. The instinct of religious feeling is paramount as well as indestructible, and philosophy and politics are in turn con­ founded by its force. It is an internecine struggle, in which they seem fated eternally to contend, but in which neither can crush its op­ ponent. In political matters is there any foundation more sure ? Constitu­ tions, suffrages, and governments are alike discredited. Some cry for one reform, some for another; but where is the prospect of agreement ? The best institutions of the age men cling to at most as stop-gaps, as the practical solution of a shifting problem. But useful as they may be, who believes in them as things of the future, destined to guide �72 THE POSITIVIST PROBLEM. man’s course as a social being ? What a chaos of plans, nostrums, and watch-cries ?—how little trust, or hope, or rest I In things social is the prospect brighter? Is the question of rich and poor, of labor and capital, of health and industry, of personal free­ dom and public well-being, so much nearer to its answer than it was ? With our great cities decimated by disease, famine, pauperism—with the war of master and servant growing louder and deeper—the corrup­ tion of industry increasing—and the whole world of commerce and manufactures swept from time to time by hurricanes of ruin and fraud,—is it a time tb indulge in visions of content? We all have hope, it is true, in the force of civilization, in the noble elements of progress, and in the destiny of the human race ; but by what patl^or course they may arrive at the goal, what man shall say ? In such a state of things Positivism comes forward with its system of ideas, which, at the least, is comprehensive as well as uniform. To some its solution may appear premature, to some incomplete, to others erroneous. But what thoughtful mind, among those to whom the social and religious forms of the past are no longer a living thing, can honestly assert that no such problem as it attempts to solve exists at all, or that this problem is already solved ? � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The positivist problem Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harrison, Frederic Description An account of the resource Place of publication: [New York] Collation: [49]-72 p. ; 26 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Extracted from Modern Thinker, no. 1, 1870. Printed in brown ink on green paper. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [American News Company] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1870] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5415 Subject The topic of the resource Positivism Philosophy Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (The positivist problem), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Conway Tracts Positivism https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/5bf7d771f657db1774c6e8ae52a1fb31.pdf?Expires=1782345600&Signature=WFUhTWsHqHuWvnmF9ruPTS2D1sSr5USbR6VL-Wo-IW3WoZP3Z9XF5JEgbBemrLHUl6WBhcqSiVrnwXTZYbcxtFx8hAcs1LFKIuUp-7vpQJRh8l32GUo4ZSECPaRRaKae9u9GWmEI2WXcs%7Ed40fba6qOWRw2FCwzNc8IkKP00cINIIa8n15jP4Z7FNyrbVKulXUvlJTJo1NBN4tws%7EdUgjPTgMEX8zCycVkOfbEbM-Vdb8tuI5NQihxox9N4tSP03YdNwYAc7Nu0kB-yz9oRME96OKie0fkKzS0QGFBlI5K5A-HxbQzInOke1LPYfFHq6gIvdOP96iYOktRwaAYWmWQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM ac96bb432dc5570fbfc8c92275f1eb10 PDF Text Text SUB LI MATED. BY FRANCIS 'GERRY FAIRFIELD. A HALO round his head, Like one who is transfigured He was. “ Still Man, I am God-man,” he said. He spake. His voice, at will, It had strange power to soothe or thrill— Music to recreate a soul, or kill. I did not seem to hear His voice with merely sensuous ear: It thrilled within me: heart stood still with fear. From him did presence well: About him glory visible' I saw. Upon my face in fear I fell. “A thing of limits—laws— Long ages since,” quoth he, “ I was— Mistaking what was mere effect for cause. “Upon the ultimate I could but dream and speculate; Then sit me sadly down—or work and wait. “ Oft feverishly I wrought, Quarrying out in deeds my thought; But found a phantom in the good I sought. “ To be—I knew not why— To think I was, and then to die: What after that came next ? That knew not I. “ Through all my thought there ran The feverish fantasy—I can Be more than this: there’s more than this in Man. “ So, human history— My toil and struggle to be free!— Thus dimly self-expression unto me. �S UDLIMA TED. “ As one who hath been sent, Though, blindly to and fro I went— Knowing not even what my message meant. “ Would _ decipher it And read—it was to me but fit­ ful, vague, and uninterpretable writ. “ I am,” quoth he. “ Is won The goal. The work is ended—done: Jehovah, God who spake, and Man are one. 4‘As if I were its soul, Matter doth feel my weird control— Thrills, blossoms, lives. I animate the whole. “All things phenomenal In quick ephemera I call. . I will they shall be, merely: that is all “ I need no tools—no skill— No travail. With immediate thrill, All stirs and palpitates: I merely will “ I toil not, neither plod To compass what I will or would: Repeating in myself the self of God. “ Yet I am Man, as when Jehovah walked and talked with men In dim, prismatic symbols—Man as then. “No nation-prejudice Have I. Broad as himself Man is; And Earth, a single proud Cosmopolis.” A halo round his head, Like one who is transfigured He was—or one who speaketh from the dead. He ceased—was gone. Since then Have I more faith and joy in men, And things beyond mere philosophic ken. For though the mist be dense, Faith giveth me this recompense: To see beyond as with an inner sense. To know that, though mere clod Or serf under the master’s rod, There comes a Man- Historic, who is God. � Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Victorian Blogging Description An account of the resource A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library &amp; Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span> Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Conway Hall Library & Archives Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Conway Hall Ethical Society Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Pamphlet Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Sublimated Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Fairfield, Francis Gerry Description An account of the resource Place of publication: [New York] Collation: [151]-152 p. ; 26 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. From Modern Thinker, no. 1, 1870. A poem. Francis Gerry Fairfield was a spiritualist and one of the earliest researchers into psychic phenomena. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [American News Company] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1870] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5420 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <p class="western"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /><br />This work (Sublimated), identified by <span style="color:#0000ff;"><span lang="zxx"><u>Humanist Library and Archives</u></span></span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</p> Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource application/pdf Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Language A language of the resource English Subject The topic of the resource Poetry Conway Tracts Poetry in English