Thomas Henry Huxley - Lay Sermons, Addresses and Reviews

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But what has Comtism to do with the "New Philosophy," as the Archbishop
defines it in the following passage?

"Let me briefly remind you of the leading principles of this new
philosophy.

"All knowledge is experience of facts acquired by the senses. The
traditions of older philosophies have obscured our experience by
mixing with it much that the senses cannot observe, and until these
additions are discarded our knowledge is impure. Thus metaphysics
tell us that one fact which we observe is a cause, and another is
the effect of that cause; but upon a rigid analysis, we find that
our senses observe nothing of cause or effect: they observe, first,
that one fact succeeds another, and, after some opportunity, that
this fact has never failed to follow--that for cause and effect we
should substitute invariable succession. An older philosophy
teaches us to define an object by distinguishing its essential from
its accidental qualities: but experience knows nothing of essential
and accidental; she sees only that certain marks attach to an
object, and, after many observations, that some of them attach
invariably, whilst others may at times be absent.... As all
knowledge is relative, the notion of anything being necessary must
be banished with other traditions."[11]

There is much here that expresses the spirit of the "New Philosophy," if
by that term be meant the spirit of modern science; but I cannot but
marvel that the assembled wisdom and learning of Edinburgh should have
uttered no sign of dissent, when Comte was declared to be the founder of
these doctrines. No one will accuse Scotchmen of habitually forgetting
their great countrymen; but it was enough to make David Hume turn in
his grave, that here, almost within earshot of his house, an instructed
audience should have listened, without a murmur, while his most
characteristic doctrines were attributed to a French writer of fifty
years later date, in whose dreary and verbose pages we miss alike the
vigour of thought and the exquisite clearness of style of the man whom I
make bold to term the most acute thinker of the eighteenth century--even
though that century produced Kant.

But I did not come to Scotland to vindicate the honour of one of the
greatest men she has ever produced. My business is to point out to you
that the only way of escape out of the crass materialism in which we
just now landed, is the adoption and strict working-out of the very
principles which the Archbishop holds up to reprobation.

Let us suppose that knowledge is absolute, and not relative, and
therefore, that our conception of matter represents that which it really
is. Let us suppose, further, that we do know more of cause and effect
than a certain definite order of succession among facts, and that we
have a knowledge of the necessity of that succession--and hence, of
necessary laws--and I, for my part, do not see what escape there is from
utter materialism and necessarianism. For it is obvious that our
knowledge of what we call the material world, is, to begin with, at
least as certain and definite as that of the spiritual world, and that
our acquaintance with law is of as old a date as our knowledge of
spontaneity. Further, I take it to be demonstrable that it is utterly
impossible to prove that anything whatever may not be the effect of a
material and necessary cause, and that human logic is equally
incompetent to prove that any act is really spontaneous. A really
spontaneous act is one which, by the assumption, has no cause; and the
attempt to prove such a negative as this is, on the face of the matter,
absurd. And while it is thus a philosophical impossibility to
demonstrate that any given phaenomenon is not the effect of a material
cause, any one who is acquainted with the history of science will admit,
that its progress has, in all ages, meant, and now, more than ever,
means, the extension of the province of what we call matter and
causation, and the concomitant gradual banishment from all regions of
human thought of what we call spirit and spontaneity.

I have endeavoured, in the first part of this discourse, to give you a
conception of the direction towards which modern physiology is tending;
and I ask you, what is the difference between the conception of life as
the product of a certain disposition of material molecules, and the old
notion of an Archaeus governing and directing blind matter within each
living body, except this--that here, as elsewhere, matter and law have
devoured spirit and spontaneity? And as surely as every future grows out
of past and present, so will the physiology of the future gradually
extend the realm of matter and law until it is co-extensive with
knowledge, with feeling, and with action.

The consciousness of this great truth weighs like a nightmare, I
believe, upon many of the best minds of these days. They watch what they
conceive to be the progress of materialism, in such fear and powerless
anger as a savage feels, when, during an eclipse, the great shadow
creeps over the face of the sun. The advancing tide of matter threatens
to drown their souls; the tightening grasp of law impedes their freedom;
they are alarmed lest man's moral nature be debased by the increase of
his wisdom.

If the "New Philosophy" be worthy of the reprobation with which it is
visited, I confess their fears seem to me, to be well founded. While, on
the contrary, could David Hume be consulted, I think he would smile at
their perplexities, and chide them for doing even as the heathen, and
falling down in terror before the hideous idols their own hands have
raised.

For, after all, what do we know of this terrible "matter," except as a
name for the unknown and hypothetical cause of states of our own
consciousness? And what do we know of that "spirit" over whose
threatened extinction by matter a great lamentation is arising, like
that which was heard at the death of Pan, except that it is also a name
for an unknown and hypothetical cause, or condition, of states of
consciousness? In other words, matter and spirit are but names for the
imaginary substrata of groups of natural phaenomena.

And what is the dire necessity and "iron" law under which men groan?
Truly, most gratuitously invented bugbears. I suppose if there be an
"iron" law, it is that of gravitation; and if there be a physical
necessity, it is that a stone, unsupported, must fall to the ground. But
what is all we really know and can know about the latter phaenomenon?
Simply, that, in all human experience, stones have fallen to the ground
under these conditions; that we have not the smallest reason for
believing that any stone so circumstanced will not fall to the ground;
and that we have, on the contrary, every reason to believe that it will
so fall. It is very convenient to indicate that all the conditions of
belief have been fulfilled in this case, by calling the statement that
unsupported stones will fall to the ground, "a law of nature." But when,
as commonly happens, we change _will_ into _must_, we introduce an idea
of necessity which most assuredly does not lie in the observed facts,
and has no warranty that I can discover elsewhere. For my part, I
utterly repudiate and anathematize the intruder. Fact I know; and Law I
know; but what is this Necessity, save an empty shadow of my own mind's
throwing?

But, if it is certain that we can have no knowledge of the nature of
either matter or spirit, and that the notion of necessity is something
illegitimately thrust into the perfectly legitimate conception of law,
the materialistic position that there is nothing in the world but
matter, force, and necessity, is as utterly devoid of justification as
the most baseless of theological dogmas. The fundamental doctrines of
materialism, like those of spiritualism, and most other "isms," lie
outside "the limits of philosophical inquiry," and David Hume's great
service to humanity is his irrefragable demonstration of what these
limits are. Hume called himself a sceptic, and therefore others cannot
be blamed if they apply the same title to him; but that does not alter
the fact that the name, with its existing implications, does him gross
injustice.

If a man asks me what the politics of the inhabitants of the moon are,
and I reply that I do not know; that neither I, nor any one else, have
any means of knowing; and that, under these circumstances, I decline to
trouble myself about the subject at all, I do not think he has any
right to call me a sceptic. On the contrary, in replying thus, I
conceive that I am simply honest and truthful, and show a proper regard
for the economy of time. So Hume's strong and subtle intellect takes up
a great many problems about which we are naturally curious, and shows us
that they are essentially questions of lunar politics, in their essence
incapable of being answered, and therefore not worth the attention of
men who have work to do in the world. And he thus ends one of his
essays:--

"If we take in hand any volume of Divinity, or school metaphysics,
for instance, let us ask, _Does it contain any abstract reasoning
concerning quantity or number_? No. _Does it contain any
experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence_?
No. Commit it then to the flames; for it can contain nothing but
sophistry and illusion."[12]

Permit me to enforce this most wise advice. Why trouble ourselves about
matters of which, however important they may be, we do know nothing, and
can know nothing? We live in a world which is full of misery and
ignorance, and the plain duty of each and all of us is to try to make
the little corner he can influence somewhat less miserable and somewhat
less ignorant than it was before he entered it. To do this effectually
it is necessary to be fully possessed of only two beliefs: the first,
that the order of nature is ascertainable by our faculties to an extent
which is practically unlimited; the second, that our volition counts for
something as a condition of the course of events.

Each of these beliefs can be verified experimentally, as often as we
like to try. Each, therefore, stands upon the strongest foundation upon
which any belief can rest, and forms one of our highest truths. If we
find that the ascertainment of the order of nature is facilitated by
using one terminology, or one set of symbols, rather than another, it is
our clear duty to use the former; and no harm can accrue, so long as we
bear in mind, that we are dealing merely with terms and symbols.

In itself it is of little moment whether we express the phaenomena of
matter in terms of spirit; or the phaenomena of spirit, in terms of
matter: matter may be regarded as a form of thought, thought may be
regarded as a property of matter--each statement has a certain relative
truth. But with a view to the progress of science, the materialistic
terminology is in every way to be preferred. For it connects thought
with the other phaenomena of the universe, and suggests inquiry into the
nature of those physical conditions, or concomitants of thought, which
are more or less accessible to us, and a knowledge of which may, in
future, help us to exercise the same kind of control over the world of
thought, as we already possess in respect of the material world;
whereas, the alternative, or spiritualistic, terminology is utterly
barren, and leads to nothing but obscurity and confusion of ideas.

Thus there can be little doubt, that the further science advances, the
more extensively and consistently will all the phaenomena of nature be
represented by materialistic formulae and symbols.

But the man of science, who, forgetting the limits of philosophical
inquiry, slides from these formulae and symbols into what is commonly
understood by materialism, seems to me to place himself on a level with
the mathematician, who should mistake the _x_'s and _y_'s, with which he
works his problems, for real entities--and with this further
disadvantage, as compared with the mathematician, that the blunders of
the latter are of no practical consequence, while the errors of
systematic materialism may paralyse the energies and destroy the beauty
of a life.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] The substance of this paper was contained in a discourse which was
delivered in Edinburgh on the evening of Sunday, the 8th of November,
1868--being the first of a series of Sunday evening addresses upon
non-theological topics, instituted by the Rev. J. Cranbrook. Some
phrases, which could possess only a transitory and local interest, have
been omitted; instead of the newspaper report of the Archbishop of
York's address, his Grace's subsequently-published pamphlet "On the
Limits of Philosophical Inquiry" is quoted; and I have, here and there,
endeavoured to express my meaning more fully and clearly than I seem to
have done in speaking--if I may judge by sundry criticisms upon what I
am supposed to have said, which have appeared. But in substance, and, so
far as my recollection serves, in form, what is here written corresponds
with what was there said.

[11] "The Limits of Philosophical Inquiry," pp. 4 and 5.

[12] Hume's Essay "Of the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy," in the
"Inquiry concerning the Human Understanding."

VIII.

THE SCIENTIFIC ASPECTS OF POSITIVISM.

It is now some sixteen or seventeen years since I became acquainted with
the "Philosophic Positive," the "Discours sur l'Ensemble du
Positivisme," and the "Politique Positive" of Auguste Comte. I was led
to study these works partly by the allusions to them in Mr. Mill's
"Logic," partly by the recommendation of a distinguished theologian, and
partly by the urgency of a valued friend, the late Professor Henfrey,
who looked upon M. Comte's bulky volumes as a mine of wisdom, and lent
them to me that I might dig and be rich. After due perusal, I found
myself in a position to echo my friend's words, though I may have laid
more stress on the "mine" than on the "wisdom." For I found the veins of
ore few and far between, and the rock so apt to run to mud, that one
incurred the risk of being intellectually smothered in the working.
Still, as I was glad to acknowledge, I did come to a nugget here and
there; though not, so far as my experience went, in the discussions on
the philosophy of the physical sciences, but in the chapters on
speculative and practical sociology. In these there was indeed much to
arouse the liveliest interest in one whose boat had broken away from
the old moorings, and who had been content "to lay out an anchor by the
stern" until daylight should break and the fog clear. Nothing could be
more interesting to a student of biology than to see the study of the
biological sciences laid down, as an essential part of the prolegomena
of a new view of social phenomena. Nothing could be more satisfactory to
a worshipper of the severe truthfulness of science than the attempt to
dispense with all beliefs, save such as could brave the light, and seek,
rather than fear, criticism; while, to a lover of courage and
outspokenness, nothing could be more touching than the placid
announcement on the title-page of the "Discours sur l'Ensemble du
Positivisme," that its author proposed

"Reorganiser, sans Dieu ni roi,
Par le culte systematique de l'Humanite,"

the shattered frame of modern society.

In those days I knew my "Faust" pretty well, and, after reading this
word of might, I was minded to chant the well-known stanzas of the
"Geisterchor"--

"Weh! Weh!
Die schoene welt.
Sie stuerzt, sie zerfaellt
Wir tragen
Die Truemmern ins Nichts hinueber.
Maechtiger
Der Erdensoehne,
Praechtiger,
Baue sie wieder
In deinem Busen baue sie auf."

Great, however, was my perplexity, not to say disappointment, as I
followed the progress of this "mighty son of earth" in his work of
reconstruction. Undoubtedly "Dieu" disappeared, but the "Nouveau
Grand-Etre Supreme," a gigantic fetish, turned out bran-new by M.
Comte's own hands, reigned in his stead. "Roi" also was not heard of;
but, in his place, I found a minutely-defined social organization,
which, if it ever came into practice, would exert a despotic authority
such as no sultan has rivalled, and no Puritan presbytery, in its
palmiest days, could hope to excel. While, as for the "culte
systematique de l'Humanite," I, in my blindness, could not distinguish
it from sheer Popery, with M. Comte in the chair of St. Peter, and the
names of most of the saints changed. To quote "Faust" again, I found
myself saying with Gretchen,--

"Ungefaehr sagt das der Pfarrer auch
Nur mit ein bischen andern Worten."

Rightly or wrongly, this was the impression which, all those years ago,
the study of M. Comte's works left on my mind, combined with the
conviction, which I shall always be thankful to him for awakening in me,
that the organization of society upon a new and purely scientific basis
is not only practicable, but is the only political object much worth
fighting for.

As I have said, that part of M. Comte's writings which deals with the
philosophy of physical science appeared to me to possess singularly
little value, and to show that he had but the most superficial, and
merely second-hand, knowledge of most branches of what is usually
understood by science. I do not mean by this merely to say that Comte
was behind our present knowledge, or that he was unacquainted with the
details of the science of his own day. No one could justly make such
defects cause of complaint in a philosophical writer of the past
generation. What struck me was his want of apprehension of the great
features of science; his strange mistakes as to the merits of his
scientific contemporaries; and his ludicrously erroneous notions about
the part which some of the scientific doctrines current in his time were
destined to play in the future. With these impressions in my mind, no
one will be surprised if I acknowledge that, for these sixteen years, it
has been a periodical source of irritation to me to find M. Comte put
forward as a representative of scientific thought; and to observe that
writers whose philosophy had its legitimate parent in Hume, or in
themselves, were labelled "Comtists" or "Positivists" by public writers,
even in spite of vehement protests to the contrary. It has cost Mr. Mill
hard rubbings to get that label off; and I watch Mr. Spencer, as one
regards a good man struggling with adversity, still engaged in eluding
its adhesiveness, and ready to tear away skin and all, rather than let
it stick. My own turn might come next; and, therefore, when an eminent
prelate the other day gave currency and authority to the popular
confusion, I took an opportunity of incidentally revindicating Hume's
property in the so-called "New Philosophy," and, at the same time, of
repudiating Comtism on my own behalf.[13]

The few lines devoted to Comtism in my paper on the "Physical Basis of
Life" were, in intention, strictly limited to these two purposes. But
they seem to have given more umbrage than I intended they should, to the
followers of M. Comte in this country, for some of whom, let me observe
in passing, I entertain a most unfeigned respect; and Mr. Congreve's
recent article gives expression to the displeasure which I have excited
among the members of the Comtian body.

Mr. Congreve, in a peroration which seems especially intended to catch
the attention of his readers, indignantly challenges me to admire M.
Comte's life, "to deny that it has a marked character of grandeur about
it;" and he uses some very strong language because I show no sign of
veneration for his idol. I confess I do not care to occupy myself with
the denigration of a man who, on the whole, deserves to be spoken of
with respect. Therefore, I shall enter into no statement of the reasons
which lead me unhesitatingly to accept Mr. Congreve's challenge, and to
refuse to recognise anything which deserves the name of grandeur of
character in M. Comte, unless it be his arrogance, which is undoubtedly
sublime. All I have to observe is, that if Mr. Congreve is justified in
saying that I speak with a tinge of contempt for his spiritual father,
the reason for such colouring of my language is to be found in the fact,
that, when I wrote, I had but just arisen from the perusal of a work
with which he is doubtless well acquainted, M. Littre's "Auguste Comte
et la Philosophic Positive."

Though there are tolerably fixed standards of right and wrong, and even
of generosity and meanness, it may be said that the beauty, or grandeur,
of a life is more or less a matter of taste; and Mr. Congreve's notions
of literary excellence are so different from mine that, it may be, we
should diverge as widely in our judgment of moral beauty or ugliness.
Therefore, while retaining my own notions, I do not presume to quarrel
with his. But when Mr. Congreve devotes a great deal of laboriously
guarded insinuation to the endeavour to lead the public to believe that
I have been guilty of the dishonesty of having criticised Comte without
having read him, I must be permitted to remind him that he has neglected
the well-known maxim of a diplomatic sage, "If you want to damage a man,
you should say what is probable, as well as what is true."

And when Mr. Congreve speaks of my having an advantage over him in my
introduction of "Christianity" into the phrase that "M. Comte's
philosophy, in practice, might be described as Catholicism _minus_
Christianity;" intending thereby to suggest that I have, by so doing,
desired to profit by an appeal to the _odium theologicum_,--he lays
himself open to a very unpleasant retort.

What if I were to suggest that Mr. Congreve had not read Comte's works;
and that the phrase "the context shows that the view of the writer
ranges--however superficially--over the whole works. This is obvious
from the mention of Catholicism," demonstrates that Mr. Congreve has no
acquaintance with the "Philosophie Positive"? I think the suggestion
would be very unjust and unmannerly, and I shall not make it. But the
fact remains, that this little epigram of mine, which has so greatly
provoked Mr. Congreve, is neither more nor less than a condensed
paraphrase of the following passage, which is to be found at page 344 of
the fifth volume of the "Philosophie Positive:"[14]--

"La seule solution possible de ce grand probleme historique, qui
n'a jamais pu etre philosophiquement pose jusqu'ici, consiste a
concevoir, en sens radicalement inverse des notions habituelles,
_que ce qui devait necessairement perir ainsi, dans le
catholicisme, c'etait la doctrine, et non l'organisation_, qui n'a
ete passagerement ruinee que par suite de son inevitable adherence
elementaire a la philosophie theologique, destinee a succomber
graduellement sous l'irresistible emancipation de la raison
humaine; _tandis qu'une telle constitution, convenablement
reconstruite sur des bases intellectuelles a la fois plus etendues
et plus stables, devra finalement presider a l'indispensable
reorganisation spirituelle des societes modernes, sauf les
differences essentielles spontanement correspondantes a l'extreme
diversite des doctrines fondamentales_; a moins de supposer, ce qui
serait certainement contradictoire a l'ensemble des lois de notre
nature, que les immenses efforts de tant de grands hommes, secondes
par la perseverante sollicitude des nations civilisees, dans la
fondation seculaire de ce chef-d'oeuvre politique de la sagesse
humaine, doivent etre enfin irrevocablement perdus pour l'elite de
l'humanite sauf les resultats, capitaux mais provisoires, qui s'y
rapportaient immediatement. Cette explication generale, deja
evidemment motivee par la suite des considerations propres a ce
chapitre, sera de plus en plus confirmee par tout le reste de
notre operation historique, _dont elle constituera spontanement la
principale conclusion politique."_

Nothing can be clearer. Comte's ideal, as stated by himself, is Catholic
organization without Catholic doctrine, or, in other words, Catholicism
_minus_ Christianity. Surely it is utterly unjustifiable to ascribe to
me base motives for stating a man's doctrines, as nearly as may be, in
his own words!

My readers would hardly be interested were I to follow Mr. Congreve any
further, or I might point out that the fact of his not having heard me
lecture is hardly a safe ground for his speculations as to what I do not
teach. Nor do I feel called upon to give any opinion as to M. Comte's
merits or demerits as regards sociology. Mr. Mill (whose competence to
speak on these matters I suppose will not be questioned, even by Mr.
Congreve) has dealt with M. Comte's philosophy from this point of view,
with a vigour and authority to which I cannot for a moment aspire; and
with a severity, not unfrequently amounting to contempt, which I have
not the wish, if I had the power, to surpass. I, as a mere student in
these questions, am content to abide by Mr. Mill's judgment until some
one shows cause for its reversal, and I decline to enter into a
discussion which I have not provoked.

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