Chapter XII: Part 12

I can see the drift of foggy argument. The writer means to say that the belief in immortality sprang up because the wish was father to the thought. Men longed to live, and thus they persuaded themselves that they would live; and, one refinement after another having been added to the vague-minded savage's animal yearning, we have the elaborate system of theology and the reverential faith that guide the lives of civilized human entities. Very pretty! Then the literary critic steps in and shows how the belief in immortality has been enlarged and elaborated since the days of Saul, the son of Kish. When the witch of Endor saw gods ascending from the earth, she was only anticipating the experience of sorcerers who ply their trade in the islands of the Pacific. Professor Huxley admires the awful description of Saul's meeting with the witch; but the Professor shows that the South Sea islanders also see gods ascending out of the earth, and he thinks that the Eastern natives in Saul's day encouraged a form of ancestor-worship. The literary critic says ancestor-worship is one of the great branches of the religion of mankind. Its principles are not difficult to understand, for they plainly keep up the social relations of the living world. The dead ancestor, now passed into a deity, goes on protecting his family and receiving suit and service from them as of old. The dead chief still watches over his own tribe, still holds his authority by helping friends and harming enemies, still rewards the right and sharply punishes the wrong. That, then, was the kind of worship prevalent in the time of Saul, and the gods were only the ancestors of the living. Well, this may be admirable as science, but, as I summarized the long argument, I felt as though something must give way.

Then we are told that our sacred book, the Old Testament, contains no reference to the future life--rather ignores the notion, in fact. It appears that, when Job wrote about the spirit that passed before him and caused all the hair of his flesh to stand up, he meant an enemy, or a goat, or something of that species. Moreover, when it is asserted that Enoch "was not, for God took him," no reference is made to Enoch's future existence. The whole of the thesis regarding the Shadow Land has been built up little by little, just as our infinitely perfect bodily organization has been gradually formed. It took at least thirty thousand years to evolve the crystalline lens of the human eye, and it required many thousands of years to evolve from the crude savagery of the early Jews the elaborate theories of the modern Buddhists, Islamites, and Christians.

Certainly this same evolution has much to answer for. I utterly fail to see how a wish can give rise to a belief that comes before the wish is framed in the mind. More than this, I know that, even when human beings crave extinction most--when the prospect of eternal sleep is more than sweet, when the bare thought of continued existence is a horror--the belief in, or rather the knowledge of, immortality is still there, and the wretch who would fain perish knows that he cannot.

As for the mathematically-minded thinkers, I must give them up. They say, "Here are two objects of consciousness whose existence can be verified; one we choose to call the body, the other we call the soul or mind or spirit, or what you will. The soul may be called a 'function' of the body, or the body may be called a 'function' of the soul--at any rate, they vary together. The tiniest change in the body causes a corresponding change in the soul. As the body alters from the days when the little ducts begin to feed the bones with lime up to the days when the bones are brittle and the muscles wither away, so does the soul alter. The infant's soul is different from the boy's, the boy's from the adolescent man's, the young man's from the middle-aged man's, and so on to the end. Now, since every change in the body, no matter how infinitesimally small, is followed by a corresponding change in the soul, then it is plain that, when the body becomes extinct, its 'function,' the soul, must also become extinct."

This is even more appalling than the reasoning of the biologist. But is there not a little flaw somewhere? We take a branch from a privet-hedge and shake it; some tiny eggs fall down. In time a large ugly caterpillar comes from each egg; but, according to the mathematical men, the caterpillar does not exist, since the egg has become naught. Good! The caterpillar wraps itself in a winding thread, and we have an egg-shaped lump which lies as still as a pebble. Then presently from that bundle of thread there comes a glorious winged creature which flies away, leaving certain ragged odds and ends. But surely the bundle of threads and the moth were as much connected as the body and the soul? Logically, then, the moth does not exist after the cocoon is gone, any more than the soul exists after the body is gone! I feel very unscientific indeed as we put forth this proposition, and yet perhaps some simple folk will follow me.

God will not let the soul die; it is a force that must act throughout the eternity before us, as it acted throughout the eternity that preceded our coming on earth. No physical force ever dies--each force merely changes its form or direction. Heat becomes motion, motion is transformed into heat, but the force still exists. It is not possible then that the soul of man--the subtlest, strongest force of all--should ever be extinguished. Every analogy that we can see, every fact of science that we can understand, tells us that the essence which each of us calls "I" must exist for ever as it has existed from eternity. Let us think of a sweet change that shall merely divest us of the husk of the body, even as the moth is divested of the husk of the caterpillar. Space will be as nothing to the soul--can we not even now transport ourselves in an instant beyond the sun? We can see with the soul's eye the surface of the stars, we know what they are made of, we can weigh them, and we can prove that our observation is rigidly accurate even though millions of miles lie between us and the object which we describe so confidently. When the body is gone, the soul will be more free to traverse space than it is even now.

_February, 1888._

Extracts from Reviews of the First Edition.

"Mr. Runciman is terribly in earnest in the greater part of this volume, especially in the several articles on 'Drink.' He is eminently practical, withal; and not satisfied with describing and deploring the effects of drunkenness, he gives us a recipe which he warrants to cure the most hardened dipsomaniac within a week. We have not quoted even the titles of all Mr. Runciman's essays; but they are all wholesome in tone, and show a hearty love of the open air and of outdoor amusement, in spite of his well-deserved strictures on various forms of so-called 'sport,' while sometimes, notably in the Essay on 'Genius and Respectability,' he touches the higher notes of feeling."--_Saturday Review_.

"Mr. Runciman is intensely earnest, and directs his arrows with force and precision against those 'joints in our social armour' which his keen vision detects. There is a purpose in all Mr. Runciman says; and although one cannot always share his enthusiasm or accept his conclusions, it is impossible to doubt his sincerity as a moral reformer and his zeal in the cause of philanthropy."--_Academy_.

"Few sermons, one would fancy, could do more good than this book, honestly considered. It speaks plain sense on faults and follies that are usually gently satirised; and makes fine invigorating reading. The book warmly deserves success."--_Scotsman_.

"Mr. Runciman expresses himself with a vigour which leaves nothing to be desired. He leaves no doubt of what he thinks,--and he thinks, anyhow, on the right side.... Altogether a very vigorous deliverance."--_Spectator_.

"No one can read these pleasant thoughtful essays without being the better for it; all being written with the vigour and grace for which Mr. Runciman is distinguished."--_Newcastle Daily Chronicle_.

"Essays which form a most important contribution to the literature of social reform."--_Methodist Times_.

"Mr. Runciman has produced a book which will compel people to read, and it has many pages which ought to compel them to think, and to act as well."--_Manchester Examiner._

"Mr. Runciman is endowed with a vigorous and pleasing style, and his facile pen has obviously been made expert by much use. In dealing with some of the more threadbare problems, such as the drink question and the sporting mania, he brings considerable novelty and freshness to their treatment, and when fairly roused he hits out at social abuses with a vigour and indignant sincerity which are very refreshing to the jaded reader ...He has been successful in producing a delightfully readable book, and even when he does not produce conviction, he will certainly succeed in securing attention and inspiring interest."--_Bradford Observer_.

"The essays are a fine contribution in the cause of manly self-culture and elevation of moral tone."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.

"To those who enjoy essays on current topics, this will be found an acceptable and instructive volume."--_Public Opinion_.

"His essays are always entertaining and suggestive ...Mr. Runciman, as is well-known, has a forcible and effective style."--_Star_.

"Mr. Runciman is a bard hitter, and evidently speaks from conviction, and there is such an honest and clear-minded tone about these papers, that even those who do not agree with all the conclusions drawn in them will not regret having read what Mr. Runciman has to say on social questions."--_Graphic_.