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there is evident enough tendency in evolutionists to reduce our belief in God to a very humble origin. Animism is the inevitable substitute for Theism to all who accept the Darwinian theory as it was where Darwin left it, and as it is in Professor Huxley's mind. Fortunately for our hope, the Darwinian world is not devoid of the element necessary for reaching a different result. Professor Huxley indeed glories in the belief that Darwinism is a resurrection of the old evolution doctrine of Heraclitus, “which," Professor Huxley says, "has proved itself to be a more adequate expression of the universal order of things than any of the schemes which have been accepted by the credulity and welcomed by the superstition of seventy later generations of men” (Life and Letters of Darwin, vol. ii. p. 180). It would be strange if the world in its maturity had to go back to the thoughts of its childhood for a right conception of the universe. Darwinism is imperfect just in so far as it takes no recognition of all that thought has done since the early days of Greece in the highest sphere of speculation. We cannot rest content to leave Darwin and Professor Huxley in the company of Heraclitus. We must insist on bringing them on to the higher companionship at least of Socrates,
Plato, and Aristotle, if not of Christ. The so-called ideal world is not a mere world of poetic imaginings divorced from the so-called real. The great Greek triad wedded for ever in indissoluble union the two aspects of the world, before Christ's parables traced for us the presence of the Father. What God hath joined in nature and in the history of thought let not Darwin or Professor Huxley put asunder. Ideal and real, they twain are one—unintelligible each in isolation, legible in their divine meaning by the light of their conjoint truth-like a double star, each member of which contributes an indispensable element to the light ray that comes to cheer us over infinite
spaces of geologic time. No better instance of the relation between the ideal and real aspects of the world could be given than the belief in the uniformity of nature. One school of thinkers, well represented by Stuart Mill, consider this fundamental article of scientific faith to be the slow result of accumulated experiences. According to them, man starts with no predisposition in favour of uniformity, and is only driven to believe it by repeatedly encountering it in the region of fact. Another school of thinkers, to whom Mr Herbert Spencer belongs for the nonce take the belief in uniformity to be a postulate of thought
without which any rational knowledge would be impossible. Both are right and both are wrong. They are looking at different aspects of the same thing. The scientist, represented by Stuart Mill, restricts his view to the real side of experience, and traces the roots of the conviction among particulars. The philosopher, as he appears in Mr Herbert Spencer, confines his gaze for once to the ideal side, and views the same phenomenon in its relation to the knowing subject. But it is just as true that could not form the simplest judgment without basing on the uniformity of nature, as it is that our faith in uniformity gets the amplest confirmation from the facts of experience. Hodge is not troubled much about the ideal; but he cannot leave his spade at a particular spot in the evening in the sure hope of finding it there next morning, without an implicit faith in the philosophic postulate. And Newton is much gratified that never an apple falls upwards from the ground. The whole rounded truth of uniformity is at once ideal and real. Mind and nature tally with each other.
In a letter to Sir Charles Lyell in 1859, Darwin betrays the weakness of the typical man of science. He there goes back to the ludicrous hypothesis of a simple archetypal creature with five senses and
some vestiges of mind, from which, as a starting point, he thinks that natural selection will account for the production of every vertebrate animal; and this he adduces against Sir C. Lyell's badly expressed postulate of the continued intervention of creative power. Darwin herein ignores the cosmic significance of natural selection, and confines his regard to its operation in a particular reference. He cannot grasp the idea of a continuous guiding thought in the whole process. When he speaks against continuous creative power, he really thinks of spasmodic creative intervention, and Sir C. Lyell's awkward mode of expression partly betrays him into doing so. Had he been trained in the school which teaches that our universe is, in the deepest analysis of it, an ideal construction, he would have had less difficulty in seeing that what, viewed on the particular side of the scientist, is a natural selection, is, viewed in the cosmic aspect which presents to our glance all the geologic stages, a thought process.
The whole is the concrete thought of God, the “garment we see Him by.” A true psychology teaches that the individual consciousness is a continuous judgment. The cosmos is a revelation of the divine consciousness, and is a continuous judgment too.
One of the most acute of Darwin's critics, whose objections to the theory of natural selection received respectful attention from the great naturalist, was the late Professor Fleeming Jenkin. There was a natural fitness in an engineer entering the lists as the champion of a mechanical theory of the origin of species. Professor Fleeming Jenkin, indeed, elaborated no theory. But he was well contented to abide in the ancient opinion, that the different species were projected in mechanical fashion from the Creator's hand, as against Darwin's view that the world of animated being has arisen through organic evolution. Professor Jenkin seems never to have felt the slightest hint of a necessity for thinking the process of creation. He looked placidly upon it all as the work of a Great Engineer, who had a plan of His own, which finite minds cannot fathom; and who laid stone upon stone by what, from our point of view, can only be regarded as an exercise of almighty force. His main arguments against the Darwinian hypothesis, strong as they appear, have the stiffness of stone or iron. First he reasons that there is not that tendency to indefinite variability which is necessary for different species to originate by survival of the fittest. After a certain amount of variation has taken place, he