ARTICLE IV. — HERBERT SPENCER'S LAWS OF THE

UNKNOWABLE.

First Principles. On the Unknowable. By HERBERT SPENCER. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1870.

THIS treatise forms the first part of Mr. Spencer's "First Principles"-a kind of second book of Genesis-written on the a priori plan, and one which to us seems to be no improvement on the first. We have placed the title of this book at the head of our Article, because it is one of the best known expositions of the nescient philosophy-Mr. Spencer being the great prophet of nescience, both in science and in religion.

When this work first appeared, some seven years ago, it was received with considerable applause, even by religious thinkers. Mr. Spencer admitted the reality of religion, and insisted upon the existence of God. In this respect, the work was an agreeable change upon the open war, and undisguised atheism, of such men as Comte. It had, too, an aspect of humility. It set a limit to many extravagant speculations, by declaring the limited nature of our faculties. These things moved many theologians to look upon the work as a flag of truce, sent out from a hitherto hostile camp, and they failed to see that the concessions to religion amounted to absolutely nothing, while the demands from it were such as to render true piety impossible. Not that Mr. Spencer, when he introduced this Trojan horse, intended this result; but such is nevertheless the outcome of the doctrine. For we consider this theory of nescience, which so many of our scientific men and young thinkers hold, as pernicious as any in all speculation; more so than the hardy oldfashioned atheism, because it is more decorous in appearance, and more specious in argument, while it is identical in the final result. The first is a precipice, bold and naked, over which one may plunge, if he chooses, but not unconsciously; the second is the same precipice covered over with snow, not strong enough to save one from the abysses, but powerful, by its seeming safety, to lure him to destruction.

This Know-Nothing doctrine is as old as philosophy; but the philosophy of the doctrine has changed with time. Formerly the difficulty was external, now it is internal. "We can

not know anything," the old sceptics used to say, "because as much and as good evidence can be brought against any proposition as for it; and hence the mind must remain in eternal balance between two opinions." But the fault was in the evidence, not in the mind. The contradictions of the testimony embarrassed the judge.

Now, all this has changed. The difficulty is no longer external, but internal. The criticism of fact has been exchanged for the criticism of faculty. The nescientist no longer inquires whether reality exists, but contents himself with the humbler question whether we have any faculties for knowing it, supposing it to exist. As a result of this intellectual inventory, mental limits have been discovered, and all knowledge of the real is said to lie beyond them. By the constitution of the mind itself, we are forever prohibited from reaching reality. Phenomena are all we know, and these when analyzed to the bottom, can never give us things as they are, or "things in themselves." Between appearances or things as we know them, and the hidden reality behind them, an impassable gulf is fixed.

This form of nescience began with Kant. He taught that there are forms of thought and sensibility in the mind, which determine the form of our knowledge, something as a mould gives shape to a cast. The matter of anything, as an iron ball, is one thing; the form is quite another. So the content, or matter, of our knowledge, is given by the things known; but the form, which is entirely different, is given by the mind itself. Hence all our knowledge is a composite, of which the two factors are the external thing, and the internal form. What the thing is, apart from this form, or what it is "in itself," is, and must be to use the established phrase "unknown and unknowable." Moreover, as it is conceivable that other orders of intelligence should differ from the human, we can never be certain that our knowledge has universal validity. We think things in the relation of cause and effect, of substance and attribute, &c.; but these relations are only forms of our thought, and correspond to no reality in the thing. Hence all our

knowledge is true only for us; at least we can never be sure that it is true for other orders of being.

This doctrine, in its essential features, is identical with that of relativity, upon which Mr. Spencer relies for the support of his theory. A criticism of the one is a criticism of the other. Indeed this relativity is derived directly from the teachings of Kant, and just here we have a word to say. This later form of the doctrine, as it appears in the works of Hamilton, Mansel, and Spencer, has far less logical and metaphysical value than the earlier form as taught by Kant. In his works one commonly finds good sense and good logic. The arguments are not merely logical, but real. We may not admit their validity, but at the same time we feel that they have a genuine momentum, and are not a logical play on words. In passing to the relativity philosophy, one is sensible of a change in this respect. There seems to be a kind of intellectual shuffling going on, a playing fast and loose with words as with the "absolute," "infinite," "conditioned," "unconditioned," &c. This makes one regard many of the conclusions as he does the celebrated one that the minute hand of a watch can never pass the hour hand; to overturn them is difficult, but to believe them is impossible. We certainly see the ghost according to programme, but cannot rid ourselves of the conviction that concave mirrors and magic lanterns are at the bottom of the show. Kant shows us real existences fighting; the relativist shows us shadows. These indulge in most dazzling fence, and seem to cleave each other through and through; but no blood is drawn, and nobody is hurt.

Armed with a knowledge of our mental limits, Mr. Spencer, following in the wake of Hamilton and Mansel, proceeds to charge all our familiar conceptions with involving contradictions, and intellectual hari-kari. A further analysis of our faculties reveals to his searching gaze a pack of mental impostors, who, by some hocus-pocus have contrived to shuffle themselves into such universal acceptance that most men regard them as necessary truths. But these villains are usurpers nevertheless; and having the bad taste to contradict our philosopher, they very naturally excite his wrath. He at once brands them as "pseudo-ideas," keeps them just long enough to give

evidence against themselves-which is assumed to be the only true evidence they can give-and then, turns them out of doors. We notice that they are occasionally smuggled in to help the prosecution, but are forbidden to say a word for the defence. This is the last feather. After being convicted of harboring "pseudo-ideas," the mind feels the propriety of being humble. For the present, our only hope is that as these necessary truths, alias pseudo-ideas, are such liars, they may have lied when they spoke against themselves.

The authority for this summary ejection seems to be that these truths cannot be pictured by the imagination, and so are "unthinkable," and "inconceivable." Horsed upon this test of knowledge, Mr. Spencer gallops gaily out of the a priori country, but like the famous John Gilpin is carried farther than he cares to go, before he dismounts. Can anything be more mocking to an exact thinker than this claim, that nothing shall be admitted to the rank of knowledge which cannot come before the representative faculty? What is the image of motion? or emotion? or relation? or force? or cause? or law? or existence? Yet these, and a multitude of other ideas, all absolutely without the imagination, do constantly enter into the exactest reasonings, each one keeping its place, without any danger, nay without any possibility, of being confounded with another. Now are we to claim that all knowledge into which these "unthinkable ideas" enter, is only illusion? Either that, or we must allow that we can have certain knowledge which is yet "unconceivable." In fact it is the attempt to apply this test to ideas to which it has no application, which is at the bottom of Kant's antinomies, Hamilton's contradictions, and the general assortment of inconceivabilities which Mr. Spencer tries to saddle upon our reason.

A good illustration of the value of this test is given in his criticism of the atheistic, pantheistic, and theistic theories, of the origin of the universe.

Mr. Spencer believes that there is a soul of truth even in the falsest view, and that every creed, if analyzed, would be found to agree in something, even with its seeming contradictions. "To doubt this would discredit too profoundly the average human intelligence." Hence, if we should lay aside

from the various creeds all that is peculiar to each, and find that in which they all agree, this common article of faith would possess the very highest claim to our acceptance. Accordingly he summons the atheist, pantheist, and theist, in turn, to appear for cross-examination.

Between atheist and theist, it would seem a hopeless task to look for common ground, something like harmonizing yes and no; but great is logic, and Mr. Spencer is equal to the task. The result of the examination is the proof that "not only is no current hypothesis tenable, but also that no tenable hypothesis can be framed." The "soul of truth" existing in these diverse statements, is that none of the parties know anything about the matter. This is what they have always been trying to say, but were never able clearly to enunciate it until Mr. Spencer helped them. An omnipresent mystery behind the universe, unexplained and unexplainable, is the ultimate religious truth, the one in which all conflicting creeds agree.

We believe that a comparison of religions would show more than a common belief in mystery, even a belief in power, and will, as well. It is not a mystery, but a good being of some kind, that men have reverenced; it is not a mystery, but a demon, that they have feared. Superstition has not stored the universe with mysteries, but with persons. Will-power behind phenomena, is the ultimate idea of all religions whether false or true.

But leaving this question, what is the reason for involving atheist, pantheist, and theist in a common condemnation? Because they all postulate the inconceivable idea of self-existence. Each assumes either the creation or the creator to be self-existent; and hence each view is equally untenable. "Differing so widely as they seem to do, the atheistic, pantheistic, and theistic hypotheses contain the same ultimate element. It is impossible to avoid making the assumption of self-existence somewhere: and whether that assumption be made nakedly, or under complicated disguises, it is equally vicious, equally unthinkable" (p. 36).

We suspect that neither atheist, pantheist, nor theist would be very much frightened by such argument as this. For whether it be unthinkable or not, it is one of the strongest