Chapter XVIII: To Sum Up (3)

That the world which we inhabit is a _Cosmos_, ruled by law and order, no one has ever attempted to deny. Only because laws are everywhere found awaiting discovery, is natural science a possibility. What such laws really are, we have already considered. They are, as Mr. Lewes puts it, the paths along which the forces of nature travel to their results; and it is only because these forces keep invariably each to its proper path, that we are able to follow them with our minds, either to learn anything concerning them, or to turn our knowledge to practical account. In something of the same manner, it is because we are assured that our railway trains will run on their appointed lines, that we can learn from Bradshaw how to get to Exeter or to Edinburgh;--but the forces of Nature are never derailed. It is, in fact, as we have heard, the first principle of Science, that "the reign of law is universal, the principle of continuity ubiquitous,"--and upon this the validity of all her methods and conclusions wholly depends. It is taken for granted, with absolute confidence, that what is once found to happen will be exactly repeated in like circumstances,--that the laws experimentally observed, regarding motion, heat, light, sound, chemical combination, electricity, magnetism, and the rest, will be faithfully obeyed, in every minutest particular, as certainly as suns will rise and set, or moons wax and wane. Were it not so, were the forces of Nature to act spasmodically and at random, and did not their common action so result as to establish or subserve other laws of bewildering complexity,--as in molecular dynamics, the mechanism of the heavens, and the processes of organic life,--we could learn no more from the study of nature than from a page of type which had been set up by an idiot, or an anthropoid ape.

Here is another factor in our problem, and one which has from the first attracted the attention of thinking men. No feature of nature impressed them more than this same reign of law and order, apparent everywhere; and on this account they called the world _Cosmos_, instead of _Chaos_. And, since it is self-evident that everything must have a reason for its being, that whatever is not self-existent must have a cause other than itself, they felt compelled to enquire what manner of cause would account for law and order. The like enquiry we have still to pursue, and by methods radically the same as ever; for amid all her discoveries Science has found nothing which does anything whatever to furnish an answer. All that has been done is enormously to multiply the aspects under which the problem presents itself.

It is now not merely in the larger and more obvious operations of Nature that we can trace this marvellous ubiquity of law, but in her most hidden processes and inmost constitution. At every point, we are forced to ask why things should be as they actually are, and how they came to be subject to conditions which they cannot be supposed to have created for themselves. Why, for example, should the ultimate elements of matter,--be they atoms, or electrons, or whatever else,--always and everywhere observe the same rules of the great game in which they serve as counters? Why, to take a concrete instance, should atoms of Hydrogen in Sirius, or in a star of the Milky Way, obey just the same laws as do those with which we make coal-gas or spirit of salt? These various atoms, as Lord Grimthorpe reminds us, have never been within billions of miles of one another. What is the mysterious influence which links them together across the depths of space? That they are so linked is obvious; for if we can ascertain the existence of such a substance in other spheres, it is only because the light it emits, exactly agrees when analyzed in the spectroscope with that of hydrogen flames in our own laboratories. How comes it, again, that the seventy different kinds of atoms, (to speak in round numbers)--are distributed--according to Mendeléeff's periodic law,--among some seven groups or families, the members of each group resembling one another in various particulars, wherein they differ from the rest? Or, to pass from atoms to molecules, (in which atoms of the same or of different kinds combine, to build up simple or compound substances respectively,)--how is it that molecules of the same kind are always constructed upon exactly the same model, resembling one another far more closely than sovereigns struck from the same die, or different copies of this morning's _Times_? It was in this uniformity of type, character and behaviour, repeated always and everywhere, in instances multiplied "beyond the power of imagination to conceive," that Sir John Herschel[125] saw a feature stamping atoms and molecules as "manufactured articles, and subordinate agents," which, no less than a line of spinning-jennies, or a regiment of soldiers clad in the same uniform, and going through the same evolutions, imply a controlling force directing things according to a definite system.

These and innumerable other particulars of detail has Science added to the problem: but of anything which can supply an answer, she knows no more than did the first man who ever mooted the question within his own soul.

And if in the inorganic world we find food for such considerations, with immensely greater instance are they forced upon us by a study of the organic. Here we enter a new realm of mystery, for the laws we encounter actively energizing at every point, are altogether different from those with which hitherto we have had to deal. The matter which enters into the constitution of living things,--animals or plants--is precisely the same as that of which the inorganic world is constituted. No single atom or molecule is found in the one which has not been drawn from the other;--nor when incorporated in a living structure do atoms or molecules suffer any alteration, or change their nature in any respect, for, says Clerk-Maxwell,[126] throughout all changes and catastrophes these remain "unbroken and unworn." Nevertheless, they fall at once under the spell of a force which introduces into their operations an order altogether new, for it somehow strikes across all the laws of dead matter, setting up a new code of its own, which endures just so long as life lasts, and is never met with apart from life. And these organic laws issue in marvellous results. Professor Haeckel himself, after endeavouring to show that from the inorganic world no arguments can be drawn to favour the supposition of design in Nature, thus continues:[127]

But the idea of design has a very great significance and
application in the _organic_ world. We do undeniably perceive a
purpose in the structure and in the life of an organism. The plant
and animal seem to be controlled by a definite design in the
combination of their several parts, just as clearly as we see in
the machines which man invents and constructs; as long as life
continues, the functions of the several organs are directed to
definite ends, just as is the operation of the various parts of a
machine.

How Haeckel proceeds to argue that such appearance of purposive design is merely fallacious, we need not here stay to enquire; our present concern is to attempt to realize the evidence of law and order which the world everywhere exhibits. As we have just heard, the parts of an organism, like those of a motor-car, or a chronometer, combine their operations for the production of definite ends; the attainment of which depends in all instances upon the nicest correspondence of various details of their work. Thus, that there should be eyes capable of seeing, the laws of optics must be satisfied, reflection, refraction and the rest, just as exactly in the making of an eye as in that of a telescope. _De facto_ they _are_ satisfied. The eye, Mr. Darwin styles[128] "a living optical instrument as superior to one of glass as the works of the Creator[129] are to those of man." He speaks, moreover, of "all its inimitable contrivances for adjusting the focus to different distances, for admitting different amounts of light, and for the correction of spherical and chromatic aberration."[130] Therefore, however we are to account for them, the laws which govern the production of eyes successfully solve a practical problem and satisfy laws which were in force before an animal with eyes appeared on earth.

In just the same way, the requirements of sound are met by the structure of the ear, which Sir Henry Holland, for example,[131] judged more wonderful than that of the eye itself.

So again as to wings. They are in the first place such marvellous pieces of workmanship that as Mr. Pettigrew writes concerning one of their forms.[132] "There are few things in nature more admirably constructed than the wing of a bird, and perhaps none where design can be more readily traced." But, moreover, wings entirely different in plan, as of birds, bats, and all the varieties of insects, alike satisfy the laws of aerostatics, and successfully solve in practice the problem of flight, a problem which we are unable to solve even theoretically. "It is evident," writes Lord Grimthorpe,[133] "that nobody yet thoroughly understands the whole theory of flying, though we are seeing it continually, and have unlimited opportunities of examining all sorts of wings. The explanation that appears plausible for one kind, not only will not do for another but seems refuted by it." Yet in a multitude of different ways, the forces of Nature succeed in effecting what with all our Science we cannot shew to be possible.

And concerning not merely one portion of a creature's structure, but the whole, Professor Huxley declares:[134]

The horse is in many ways a remarkable animal; not least so in the
fact that it presents us with an example of one of the most perfect
pieces of machinery in the living world. In truth, among the works
of human ingenuity it cannot be said that there is any locomotive
so perfectly adapted to its purposes, doing so much work with so
small a quantity of fuel, as this machine of Nature's
manufacture--the horse.

These are but a few out of countless similar examples. "We are constantly discovering," says Lord Grimthorpe, "new complications and processes, and what to all common sense appear contrivances, in the organs of all living things, and indeed we can find no limit to them." In all these cases an instrument is fashioned precisely adapted to the performance of a certain function, and it is therefore obvious on first principles that there must exist _some_ power capable of producing such instruments.

It will probably be answered that there are forces enough in Nature to account for everything, and that these furnish the needful explanation. But, as Mr. Croll rightly insists,[135] Force by itself explains nothing. Its mere exercise has no tendency whatever to produce such effects. There must likewise be Determination of Force in the one definite direction required, and it is in the source of this Determination that the true cause must be sought to which the result is due. It is not simply because iron is hammered and filed that a railway-engine is produced; nor is it sufficient that a block of marble be chipped with mallet and chisel in order to obtain a statue of Apollo. Unless some influence comes in to direct the forces in such cases to their respective results, the results will never by any possibility be secured. And in the processes of Nature such direction or determination must be exercised in particulars inconceivably intricate, to which the works of man furnish no parallel. As Mr. Croll writes:

If a tree is to be formed, the lines of least resistance must all
be determined and adjusted in relation to the objective idea of the
tree; of the root; of the branches; of the leaves; of the bud; of
the fruit; and of every part of the tree. But this is not all: the
tree is built up molecule by molecule, each of which requires a
special determination, and, beyond all this, we have the
structureless protoplasm, which must be differentiated according to
the objective idea of the whole. What produces this marvellous
adjustment of means to ends?

And as he insists in another passage:

The determinations which take place in nature occur not at random,
but according to a plan--an objective idea. Thus the question is
not simply what causes a body to take some direction, but what
causes it to take, among the infinite number of possible
directions, the proper direction in relation to the idea. In the
formation of, say, the leaf of a tree, no two molecules move in
identically the same direction or take identically the same path.
But each molecule must move in relation to the objective idea of
the leaf, or no leaf would be formed. The grand question,
therefore, is, What is it that selects from among the infinite
number of possible directions the proper one in relation to this
idea?

And this sort of thing is going on in every blossom and leaf and blade of grass, in every hair and every feather over the surface of the earth.

Truly does our author find here "The Grand Question," for in it we touch the very heart of our whole problem, and are forced to consider more closely than we have hitherto done of what character must be the ultimate Cause which alone can explain the world.

It is, as we have seen, a first principle of Science, that in enquiries such as this, we must proceed from experience to inference, from the known to the unknown. Arguing thus, we may legitimately gather from observed phenomena, that something exists, which even though it be not directly within the range of our senses, must certainly be capable of producing such phenomena: just as the perturbations of one planet have revealed the existence of another; and the lines in their spectra have taught us the chemical constitution of the sun and stars.

This principle being borrowed by Science from common-sense, has instinctively been ever adopted by those who set themselves to enquire of what kind must be that unseen Power at the back of Nature to which the fact of law and order may be ascribed. And as there is but one force or power within the range of our experience capable of producing such an effect, it is but natural that this should have been constantly assumed to represent, at least by analogy, the nature of the power required. That there is but one cause known to us experimentally, which can determine the operation of force towards the attainment of a preconditioned result, none will deny--namely the purposive action of an intelligent will, as known to us in ourselves and in our fellow-men;--and to Will accordingly, immensely more intelligent than ours, has been ascribed the establishment of those laws which the highest intellects of our race are able partially and dimly to apprehend.

It is thus that we are led to the fundamental doctrine of Theism, to belief in an intelligent First Cause, according to whose design the universe has been fashioned; a cause which must have all that is found in the universe or any part of it, including man, and more--for it has of itself what all else derives from it--whose purposes necessarily transcend our mental grasp--but whose modes of thought are reflected in our own, by which they can in some measure be followed through a study of their results.

If such a belief, so grounded, be unscientific, as is constantly assumed, there must be good arguments to the contrary. It should be demonstrable, either that Science has shown such a line of reasoning to be unsound, or that she has discovered within her own domain something which, at least conceivably, can do the work thus attributed to Intelligence--in which case the much-quoted dictum of Lord Kelvin will be in point,--that if a probable solution of any problem can be found which is consistent with the ordinary course of Nature, we must not go beyond Nature in search of one.

If, on the other hand, the above line of reasoning cannot be invalidated, and if scientific methods can discover nothing competent to effect what has undoubtedly been effected, it is not easy to see how it can be unscientific to proceed by inference to what is confessedly beyond the scope of observation and experiment.

That "Teleology," or the doctrine of Final Causality,[136] is unworthy of serious consideration, is without doubt a common assumption, and some writers seem to think that an argument is sufficiently discredited if it be styled "teleological." Yet this rather formidable term represents no more than the belief that the infinite adaptations of means to results observed in Nature are the effect of purpose, not of chance. And if we eliminate purpose, what is there left to furnish an explanation, beyond the indubitable fact that such adaptations have always been found in organic nature, and that we have learnt confidently to anticipate that they will appear generation after generation according to the "law of heredity"? But this obviously only tells us that they have been produced and are likewise transmitted, and throws no light whatever on the cause of the marvellous processes to which their production and their transmission are due. If we have any rational grounds for expecting that such processes will continue to occur, it cannot be merely that they have occurred before, but we instinctively infer that the cause to which they are ultimately due continues to operate. We are thus as far as ever from an answer to the question, What is that cause?

It may be urged [says Newman][137] if a thing happens once it must
happen always; for what is to hinder it? Nay, on the contrary, why,
because one particle of matter has a certain property, should all
particles have the same? Why, because particles have instanced the
property a thousand times, should the thousand and first instance
it also? It is _prima facie_ unaccountable that an accident should
happen twice, not to speak of it happening always. If we expect a
thing to happen twice, it is because we think it is not an
accident, but has a cause. What has brought about a thing once, may
bring it about twice. _What_ is to hinder its happening? rather
what is to make it happen? Here we are thrown back from the
question of Order to that of Causation. A law is not a cause, but a
fact; but when we come to the question of cause, then we have no
experience of any cause but Will.

Here is the crucial point: "We have no experience of any cause but Will;" and it follows that if, as Science bids us, we base inference on experience alone, there can be no doubt about the conclusion to which we shall be led.

* * * * *

No different is the verdict of Sir John Herschel:

The presence of _Mind_ [he writes][138] is what solves the whole
difficulty: so far, at least, as it brings it within the sphere of
our consciousness, and into conformity with our own experience of
what action is.

That the introduction of intelligent purpose, as a factor, sufficiently meets the requirements of our reason cannot be denied. As Bishop Butler insists, it is even impossible for any man in his senses to say that the problem can be more easily solved without it. And witnesses not merely unfriendly, but positively and even bitterly hostile, are compelled to admit that on whatever other grounds they may reject Theism, it is not because this doctrine is inadequate as an explanation of the world we know.

It seems to me [says Professor Huxley][139] that "creation," in the
ordinary sense of the word, is perfectly conceivable. I find no
difficulty in imagining that, at some former period, this universe
was not in existence; and that it made its appearance ... in
consequence of the volition of some pre-existent Being. The
so-called _à priori_ arguments against Theism, and given a Deity,
against the possibility of creative acts, appear to me to be devoid
of reasonable foundation.

Similarly, that uncompromising foe of religious belief in any shape, Professor W. K. Clifford, replying to Dr. Martineau who based his argument on the existence of the moral law, as well as the evidence of design in Nature, wrote thus:[140]

I fully admit that the theistic hypothesis, so grounded, and
considered apart from objections elsewhere arising, is a reasonable
hypothesis and an explanation of the facts. The idea of an external
conscious being is unavoidably suggested, as it seems to me, by the
categorical imperative of the moral sense; and moreover in a way
quite independent, by the aspect of nature, which seems to answer
to our questionings with an intelligence akin to our own.

On the other hand, where is an alternative hypothesis to be found of which as much can be said,--which will justify itself to reason, by accounting for the facts? That no purely materialistic or mechanical theory will suffice is not only obvious to common-sense, but is acknowledged by those who would gladly find such a theory sufficient.

It would be a great delusion [writes Weismann][141] if any one
were to believe that he had arrived at a comprehension of the
universe by tracing the phenomena of Nature to mechanical
principles. He would thereby forget that the assumption of eternal
matter with its eternal laws by no means satisfies our intellectual
need for causality.

Similarly, Professor Huxley admits that even his primeval cosmic nebula with the world potential in its womb, leaves something to desire.

The more purely a mechanist the speculator is [he writes][142] the
more firmly does he assume a primordial molecular arrangement of
which all the phenomena of the universe are the consequences, and
the more completely is he thereby at the mercy of the teleologist,
who can always defy him to disprove that this primordial molecular
arrangement was not[143] intended to evolve the phenomena of the
universe.

Accordingly, although he was clearly persuaded that Theism is a doctrine which we can never have sufficient grounds for accepting, Professor Huxley repudiated the notion that scientific discovery has done anything to disprove it. Thus he tells us,[144] that, in order to be a teleologist, and yet accept Evolution, it is only necessary

to suppose that the original plan was sketched out ... that the
purpose was foreshadowed in the molecular arrangements out of which
the animals have come.

And again,[145] he thus expressed himself regarding two objections commonly brought against Darwinism, namely that it introduces "chance" as a factor in nature, and that it is atheistic:

Both assertions are utter bosh. None but parsons believe in
"chance"; and the philosophical difficulties of Theism now are
neither greater nor less than they have been ever since Theism was
invented.

Accordingly, as has already been urged, in regard of this question we are precisely where men have always been,--dependent upon arguments such as satisfied philosophers like Cicero, who declared that when we regard the starry heavens the existence of a Deity of surpassing intelligence must appear no less obvious than that of the sun in the sky.[146]

That scientific enlightenment is not incompatible with such reasoning, we have sufficient evidence in the fact that amongst those whose conclusions are wholly in accord with Cicero's, men are to be found standing in the very front rank of Science.

Like the Roman orator, Sir Isaac Newton declared that the existence of a Being endowed with intelligence and wisdom is a necessary inference from a study of celestial mechanics, and that to treat of God is therefore a part of Natural Philosophy.[147]

We assume, as absolutely self-evident [say Professors Stewart and
Tait][148] the existence of a Deity, who is the Creator and
Upholder of all things.

When we contemplate the phenomena of vision, [says Sir G. G.
Stokes,][149] it seems difficult to understand how we can fail to
be impressed with the evidence of design thus imparted to us. But
design is altogether unmeaning without a designing mind. The study
then of the phenomena of nature leads us to the contemplation of a
Being from whom proceeded the orderly arrangement of natural things
that we behold.

Lord Kelvin's recent declaration is even more vigorous.[150]

I cannot say that with regard to the origin of life Science neither
affirms nor denies creative power. Science positively affirms
creating and directive power, which she compels us to accept as an
article of belief.

Thirty years earlier Clerk-Maxwell in concluding his famous lecture before the British Association[151] thus spoke concerning Molecules:

They continue this day as they were created, perfect in number and
measure and weight, and from the ineffaceable characters impressed
on them we may learn that those aspirations after accuracy in
measurement, truth in statement, and justice in action, which we
reckon among our noblest attributes as men, are ours because they
are essential constituents of the image of Him who in the beginning
created, not only the heaven and the earth, but the materials of
which heaven and earth consist.

It is of course not to be denied that there are eminent men of science who altogether dissent from such opinions, and reject Theism as false, or at least as lacking any rational claim on our acceptance. That, however, is not the point. The above testimonies have not been adduced as if their authority could settle the question, which is one to be determined not by authority, but by argument. At the same time, it is abundantly evident that it is not argument but supposed authority which influences the great majority of those who style themselves rationalists. By what modes of reasoning their creed is supposed to be established they have usually little idea: but they firmly believe, as they are constantly assured, that no one who knows what Science is can pretend to credit an antiquated doctrine which she has entirely exploded. It is to show what degree of truth attaches to such statements, that our witnesses have been called--and for this purpose their testimony is undoubtedly sufficient. As Lord Rayleigh in his Presidential address told the British Association:[152]

It is true that among scientific men, as in other classes, crude
views are to be met with as to the deeper things of Nature; but
that the life-long beliefs of Newton, of Faraday, and of Maxwell,
are inconsistent with the scientific habit of mind, is surely a
proposition which I need not pause to refute.

And when from authority we turn to the line of argument adopted by those who would impugn that upon which Theists rely, and who reject the idea of an intelligent First Cause either as superfluous, or as incapable of verification, we find but two courses one or other of which they feel themselves compelled to adopt, although it is not very easy to understand the state of mind which can rest satisfied with either.

Some, on the one hand, frankly admit that Science has not by her own proper methods discovered any ultimate principle of things, and never will. But on that very account, they maintain, this ultimate principle, whatever it may be, must remain utterly unknown to us--for we can never _know_ anything except by the methods of Science. Accordingly, although the theistic hypothesis would confessedly furnish such an explanation as is lacking, we must not adopt it because we cannot test it experimentally.

And yet in ordinary life we have no difficulty in arguing from effect to cause in just the same manner, and satisfying ourselves of the existence of what we can as little touch or see as the First Cause itself. Thus we are convinced of the genius of Shakespeare and Napoleon, and that there was a difference between the character of Robespierre and that of Howard the Philanthropist. But no man ever saw or touched either genius or character, which can be known only by their results. It is by inference far less legitimate that those proceed who, like Haeckel, seek in the forces of Nature themselves an explanation of phenomena which, as we know them, they are wholly incapable of producing. Instead of arguing that a cause must therefore exist which is beyond Nature, but whose character our own experience enables us in some measure, and analogically, to learn, these philosophers start with the assumption that no such cause is possible, and then proceed to draw the consequence that the condition of Nature must once have been totally different from what it actually is, enabling her forces to produce results which no experience of any sort indicates as possible.

Those who adopt such an attitude of nescience, and in the proper sense of the word are termed Agnostics, find themselves compelled accordingly to leave their system in the air, with no basis more solid than the elephant and tortoise on which Hindoo astronomers rested the world. They must ignore the fundamental principle of Causation, from which we started our present enquiry, and in consequence it is impossible that their systems should, as Professor Weismann says, satisfy our intellectual needs.

Others, on the other hand, declare that the Theistic hypothesis must be dismissed, because a better has been found, Science having discovered within her own sphere an effectual substitute for the supposed First Cause. When we enquire what this may be, we are told that it is the "Law of Substance," or "Evolution," or "Nature" herself, or an "Infinite Eternal Energy unknown and unknowable," but devoid of intellect and will--or "Monism," or some other similar abstraction which can represent no idea at all, unless--as often happens--it be clad in the robes of its rival, and credited with the very powers and attributes denied to the First Cause, so as to become practically the same thing under another and misleading name. Regarding this point there will be more to be said presently. Here, it will be sufficient to note that this is in truth the only meaning which can be attached to much of the language of so-called scientific writers.

Who [asks Mr. Wollaston][153] is this Nature ... who has such
tremendous power, and to whose efficiency such marvellous
performances are ascribed? What are her image and attributes when
dragged from her wordy lurking-place? Is she aught but a pestilent
abstraction, like dust cast in our eyes to obscure the workings of
an intelligent First Cause?

So at the end of his life Clerk-Maxwell characteristically observed, that he had studied many queer religions and philosophies, but had found none of them that would work without God concealed somewhere.

Finally, a warning uttered by Lord Rayleigh in the address quoted above must not be forgotten. After acknowledging that "unfortunately" there are writers speaking in her name who have set themselves to foster the prevailing belief that Science necessarily tends towards materialism, he thus continued:

It would be easy, however, to lay too much stress upon the opinions
of even such distinguished workers as these. Men who devote their
lives to investigation cultivate a love of truth for its own sake,
and endeavour instinctively to clear up, and not, as is too often
the object in business and politics, to obscure, a difficult
question. So far the opinion of a scientific worker may have a
special value; but I do not think that he has a claim superior to
that of other educated men, to assume the attitude of a prophet. In
his heart he knows that underneath the theories that he constructs
there lie contradictions which he cannot reconcile. The higher
mysteries of being, if penetrable at all by the human intellect,
require other weapons than those of calculation and experiment.

XII

PURPOSE AND CHANCE

An objection is no doubt awaiting us which many consider absolutely fatal to the argument for purpose or design in nature, as above presented. That argument, it will be said, rests entirely upon the assumption that the sole alternative to Purpose is _Chance_, an assumption which, if not dishonest, betrays ignorance scarcely less discreditable: for men of science constantly warn us that there is no such thing as Chance,--that every occurrence in nature, one as much as another, testifies to the uniformity and regularity of natural causation,--and that if we speak of any phenomenon being due to Chance, this term is but a conventional symbol signifying that we do not know what caused it.

Amongst those who take up this position, which is well-nigh universal, no better representative need be sought than Professor Huxley, who treated the point formally, and was manifestly well satisfied with his performance. We have already heard him declare belief in Chance to be an absurdity of which none but parsons could be guilty, a class in which he clearly conceived the low-water-mark of intelligence to be reached. On another occasion,[154] he set himself expressly to the exposure of what he described as, "The most singular of the, perhaps immortal, fallacies, which live on, Tithonus-like, when sense and force have long deserted them."

Probably the best answer [he writes] to those who talk of Darwinism
meaning the reign of "Chance," is to ask them what they themselves
understand by "Chance." Do they believe that anything in this
universe happens without reason or without a cause? Do they really
conceive that any event has no cause, and could not have been
predicted by any one who had a sufficient insight into the order of
Nature? If they do, it is they who are the inheritors of antique
superstition and ignorance, and whose minds have never been
illumined by a ray of scientific thought.

As an object lesson for his enlightenment, the Professor bids one of these benighted folk betake himself to the sea-shore on which a heavy storm is breaking; and having painted a rather elaborate word-picture of the scene, he thus continues:

Surely here, if anywhere, he [the unenlightened one] will say that
chance is supreme, and bend the knee as one who has entered the
very penetralia of his divinity. But the man of science knows that
here as everywhere, perfect order is manifested; that there is not
a curve of the waves, not a note in the howling chorus, not a
rainbow-glint on a bubble, which is other than a necessary
consequence of the ascertained laws of nature; and that with a
sufficient knowledge of the conditions, competent
physico-mathematical skill could account for, and indeed predict,
every one of these "chance" events.

This, however, is mere beating of the air, having no bearing whatever upon the question at issue; and we can only wonder that so able a man as Huxley could thus absolutely miss the whole point, while remaining serenely unconscious that he did so. No sane man ever entertained the foolish notion with which he credits his man of straw. On the contrary, it is precisely those whom he so heartily despises, that _dis_believe in Chance, and deny it any share in the making of the world. They neither regard Chance as a possible cause of phenomena, nor make of it a kind of deity or fetish, as some appear inclined to do with Science. Their contention is that according to those who, with Huxley, reject the idea of intelligent purpose, Chance would needs be introduced as a ruling element in nature, which would be absurd. Nor in thus arguing do they introduce any notion so irrational as that of "absolute" Chance, of events happening without causes. But unquestionably there can be "relative" Chance. A cause fully sufficient for the production of a result, may have no tendency whatever to determine or direct this result to a particular end; and if in such circumstances this end be attained it is by Chance. In particular, should many independent results of purely mechanical forces combine to produce a result, as intelligence would combine them, its production can only be ascribed to Chance. "Chance" has therefore a very real meaning. It is not a Cause, but the absence of Cause: not of Cause altogether, but of the _determining_ Cause requisite for the production of certain results. The argument based upon the impotence of Chance to obtain such results, is precisely that which the most exact of all the Sciences, Mathematics, accepts and applies in the Theory of Chances.

The answer to the question which Professor Huxley evidently deems unanswerable is plain enough. By "Chance" is meant the concurrence, unguided by Purpose, of independent forces to produce a definite effect. "Chance" denotes the absence of Purpose, as "Vacuum" denotes the absence of air; and when it is denied that certain results can come about by chance, or fortuitously, it is as when we deny that life can be sustained _in vacuo_. It is no positive feature or action of the vacuum that we have in mind, for its essence is negative; but just because of that negative character, experience has taught us, that it cannot fulfil certain functions. In the same manner the potency of "Chance" is denied, simply because it is not Purpose.

That there are phenomena for which "Chance" thus defined cannot account is, surely, obvious. If a man sits down at a piano and plays "God Save the King," no evidence in the world would persuade Professor Huxley or any one else, that the performer had never before seen a musical instrument, nor knew of the existence of such an air or any other, but just put his fingers on the keys as the spirit moved him. Such a story would be rightly felt to be absolutely incredible: and yet the notes he produced--equally with those of the howling chorus of winds and waves--were the necessary effects of physical causes; given that particular strings were struck, they could not but follow. The whole point is, however, that in this case the result is _not_ a howling chorus, but a melody; not mere formless noise, but an orderly composition, constructed on definite principles which our mind can recognize. It is in regard of this particular feature of the result that Force of itself, as we have seen, explains nothing, and that, if there is to be any explanation at all, we must know something as to how Force received the needful Direction or Determination.

It is only in regard of human action that we can, as in the above instance, find an example of what may be called pure fortuity, for such action alone can be traced up to an initial cause, namely the exercise of Will. No one can have a right to call the action of natural forces fortuitous; on the contrary, we have seen arguments that in the inorganic world itself purpose must be recognized. But an action directed by purpose to one result may be quite fortuitous in regard of another. A man who digging a foundation for a house finds a buried treasure, discovers this by chance. Although his action was ruled by a most definite purpose, that purpose was not this. So again when, according to the old story, certain Phoenician mariners finding no stones on the sea-shore suitable for the purpose, used blocks of natron to support their cooking-pots, and so produced glass, they were led to the discovery by mere chance. And in like manner, however definitely the forces of matter may be determined each to its own proper end, there are results which if produced by them must be as purely fortuitous as such an invention made by men who thought only of preparing their dinner. The cable which was being laid to America having, in 1865, snapped and sunk in mid-Atlantic, it was determined in the following year to attempt its recovery. Meanwhile the shore-end at Valencia was still connected with the dial-plate, on which messages had been scored between ship and shore while the cable was intact. A telegraphist was constantly on duty, watching the needle which was never still, being deflected hither and thither by the earth-currents, working through the wires. On a sudden, however, the needle spelled out the letters "Got it," and it was known with absolute certainty that there was a man at the other end. It is no doubt perfectly true that each previous movement had been the necessary consequence of the force applied, just as truly as those which coincided with the conventions of the telegraphist's alphabet; but win any one say that such coincidence could conceivably be attributable to the forces of magnetism alone, however exact to the laws according to which they operate?

It must always be remembered that the question we have to discuss is, how far Science casts any light upon such questions as the one before us. And since "Science" is taken to mean knowledge acquired through the observation of phenomena alone, we have at present to enquire whether material forces, the only ones of which observation directly tells us anything, could have produced such effects as we have considered, otherwise than by mere "Chance"? If they could not, is it imaginable that they produced these effects at all? And it appears obvious that unless there be Purpose at the back of Nature, Chance must be acknowledged as the architect of the universe.

Professor Huxley tells us, it is true, that such an idea could be entertained by no one whose mind had ever been illumined by a ray of scientific thought. In face of this it is rather remarkable to find that the idea was undoubtedly entertained by Mr. Darwin, who took for granted that to deny Purpose is to affirm Chance.

I am conscious [he wrote to Asa Gray][155] that I am in an utterly
hopeless muddle. I cannot think that the world, as we see it, is
the result of chance; and yet I cannot look at each separate thing
as the result of Design.

And again:[156]

I cannot any how be contented to view this wonderful universe, and
especially the nature of man, and to conclude that everything is
the result of brute force. I am inclined to look at everything as
resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or
bad, left to the working out of what we call chance. Not that this
notion _at all_ satisfies me.

Professor Haeckel too is by no means in accord on this point with his friend Professor Huxley. He writes:[157]

One group of philosophers affirms, in accordance with the
teleological conception, that the whole cosmos is an orderly
system, in which every phenomenon has its aim and purpose; there is
no such thing as chance. The other group, holding a mechanical
theory, expresses itself thus: The development of the universe is a
monistic mechanical process, in which we discover no aim or purpose
whatever; what we call design in the organic world is a special
result of biological agencies; neither in the evolution of the
heavenly bodies nor in that of the crust of our earth do we find
any trace of a controlling purpose--all is the result of chance.
Each party is right--according to its definition of chance. The
general law of causality, taken in conjunction with the law of
substance, teaches us that every phenomenon has a mechanical cause;
in this sense there is no such thing as chance. Yet it is not only
lawful, but necessary to retain the term for the purpose of
expressing the simultaneous occurrence of two phenomena, which are
not causally related to each other, but of which each has its own
mechanical cause independent of the other. Everybody knows that
chance, in this monistic sense, plays an important part in the life
of man and in the universe at large. That, however, does not
prevent us from recognizing in each "chance" event, as we do in the
evolution of the entire cosmos, the universal sovereignty of
nature's supreme law, _the law of substance_.

There is a good deal here which is less clear in the way of argument than could be wished. The famous _Law of Substance_, as we have seen, has two articles: The indestructibility of matter, and the conservation of energy. What light either of these principles may be supposed to shed on such questions as the adaptation of organs to their functions is by no means obvious. To say that there is no design in the organic world, because it is a special result of biological agencies,--is quite of a piece with the contention which has actually been made, that we can no longer argue to Design, with Paley, from the analogy of a watch, since "nearly every part of a watch is now made by inanimate machinery."[158] Thus much, however, is perfectly clear: the competence of Chance is recognized to originate a world like ours, and to enable Nature, as Professor Clifford says, seemingly to answer our questionings with an intelligence akin to our own.

It would thus appear that when Newton asks,--Was the eye fashioned without knowledge of the laws of light, or the ear, without knowledge of those of sound?--we are to answer in the affirmative, and to say that such organs are but special results of biological agencies, under the general management of the Law of Substance.

That such a reply cannot with any truth be termed scientific is plain--for it touches matters which by her own acknowledgment Science cannot reach;--nor does it seem probable that this kind of talk would convince anybody, were there nothing more. Undoubtedly those who persuade themselves that the Order of the Universe can be sufficiently explained without introducing the idea of purpose or design, are influenced by other considerations than these.

(1) With some it is the argument, which appears chiefly to have weighed with Mr. Darwin, who constantly speaks of it as the great obstacle to that belief in Design which the marvels of the universe would otherwise necessitate. This he based on certain features in Nature which appeared to him incompatible with the work of a beneficent Author, mainly the existence of suffering amongst animals in whose case it cannot be supposed to subserve any purpose of moral benefit. As he wrote to Asa Gray:[159]

I own that I cannot see as plainly as others do, and as I should
wish to do, evidence of design and beneficence on all sides of us.
There seems to me too much misery in the world. I cannot persuade
myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly
created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their
feeding within the living bodies of caterpillars, or that a cat
should play with mice. Not believing this, I see no necessity in
the belief that the eye was expressly designed.

Such a mode of meeting the arguments for Design, though only indirect, undoubtedly deserves serious consideration, touching as it does the darkest of all mysteries--the Origin of Evil. It is clear, however, that in Mr. Darwin's case, and probably in that of many others, its effect was due in no slight degree to imagination rather than to reason. He picks out one or two instances of seeming cruelty in Nature, as though they were something exceptional, and appears to imply that they create an obstacle to a belief which Nature as a whole almost forces upon him. In reality, the same sort of thing goes on everywhere. Animal life from beginning to end is a record of rapine and slaughter, as Tennyson declared in a verse too trite to bear quotation. The most petted of pet dogs has no more compunction than a tiger in worrying creatures weaker than itself, and a robin-redbreast takes far more lives daily than does a sparrow-hawk. But to draw from these facts such large conclusions--is quite another matter. Can we imagine that we are qualified by the fulness of our knowledge to pronounce judgment and declare that there can be no good end where we fail to perceive one? As Mr. Darwin admits in the very same passage: "I feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect. A dog might as well speculate on the mind of Newton."

How much is there in the actions of persons much lowlier than Newton which to the most intelligent of animals, dogs, elephants, or monkeys, could they speculate at all, must seem wholly devoid of sense;--as for instance that men should spend such continual labour in digging and ploughing. So again, in his famous lecture on Coal, Professor Huxley depicts what might have been the reflections of a giant reptile of the Carboniferous Epoch, suggested by the seemingly senseless waste of nature's powers in the production of the primeval forests, that have furnished the coal measures, to which so much of our progress and civilization is directly due.

And, after all, given the universal law of death for all living things, it would hardly appear that we can assure ourselves that any attendant circumstance constitutes a greater evil--as Mr. Darwin's argument seems to assume; and yet, it does not appear ever to have been argued that there can be no purpose in Nature since no organic life endures for ever. Most probably, if we knew enough, we should plainly see that nothing could be more cruel than to have omitted the carnivora from creation, leaving herbivorous animals to multiply till they starved one another to death, or at least to perish of senile decay far more painfully than under the fangs of tigers and wolves. Instances might moreover be quoted which serve to remind us how impossible it is rightly to estimate the true character of suffering amongst creatures altogether different from ourselves. Thus when, as eye-witnesses report, young scorpions clinging to their mother devour her alive, scientifically avoiding as long as possible all vital parts and mortal wounds--we are inclined to consider them monsters of wickedness, and their parent as a model of motherly devotion, whose sufferings cannot be less horrible than those of a caterpillar similarly eaten by the ichneumon grub. But we cannot with any reason impute more moral blame to the young scorpions, than to the lambkins which draw sustenance from their dams in another fashion which we find touching and poetical; while as for the mother--who doubtless treated her own parent in just the same fashion--she exhibits no symptom to show that she resents her offsprings' advances, any more than does the ewe, but on the contrary has her sting ever ready for any one who would interfere with them.

(2) It is a still more common objection to the doctrine of purpose everywhere in Nature, that such an idea is negatived by the continuity and uniformity of natural laws, precluding the notion of constant interference by another, supernatural, Agent. But this objection is based upon an entire misconception. No one imagines such intervention, or that purpose guides nature as a pilot guides a ship by repeated orders to the man at the wheel. Undoubtedly the reign of law in nature is uninterrupted, but in that law purpose is interwoven as the controlling element; just as the mind of Homer governs the hand of every printer who sets up type for a new edition of the _Iliad_.

(3) Finally, there is the argument, already alluded to, that inasmuch as the most complex structures are daily transmitted under our eyes by generation, we have evidence that nature can produce them from her own resources, and by the operation of a merely natural law, such as no one doubts generation to be.

Such an argument, it is evident, merely begs the question at issue, offering as it does no explanation, or suggestion, as to how a power so marvellous was acquired. It would be equally philosophical to argue that there is nothing wonderful about the genius of a great poet because we confidently anticipate that it will be exhibited in the next piece he produces.

It is likewise clear that, here again, imagination rather than reason furnishes the argument. In the first place, were there nothing else, no explanation whatever would thus be afforded as to how the structures in question were first produced, before they could be transmitted. And, secondly, which is still more important, generation--far from furnishing an explanation of anything--introduces us to mysteries yet more inscrutable than any we have yet encountered, and to problems which seem to admit of no possible solution apart from, not only Purpose, but transcendent Power.

Doubtless the propagation of life is ruled by natural law, but how such law effects its object we understand immeasurably less than we understand the flight of birds or butterflies. As a recent writer reminds us,[160] what is transmitted from parents to offspring "is not a new form or structure, but only the _potentiality_ of such a new form: which, in suitable circumstances, builds _itself_ up out of surrounding inorganic and organic material." As Lord Grimthorpe expresses the same truth:[161]

If we suppose an apple-tree to have once grown somehow, and to have
somehow got power to produce seeds, that would not produce any more
apple-trees, unless the seeds, and all the adjacent atoms that are
wanted, had the power and the will to combine and grow into another
apple-tree. The first hen that laid an egg performed a wonderful
feat enough, but it would have done no good unless the atoms of the
egg also knew and resolved what to do to turn themselves into a
chicken. Yet spontaneous evolutionists are in the habit of slurring
over generation as a thing too "natural," and therefore too easy
and simple to require explanation.