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Page 13
When I reached intellectual maturity and began to ask
myself whether I was an atheist, a theist, or a pantheist; a
materialist or an idealist; a Christian or a freethinker; I
found that the more I learned and reflected the less ready was
the answer, until, at last, I came to the conclusion that
I had neither art nor part with any of these denominations
except the last. The one thing in which most of these good
people were agreed was the one thing in which I differed
from them. They were quite sure they had attained a certain
"gnosis"--had, more or less successfully, solved the problem
of existence; while I was quite sure I had not, and had a
pretty strong conviction that the problem was insoluble.
And, with Hume and Kant on my side, I could not think myself
presumptuous in holding fast by that opinion....
This was my situation when I had the good fortune to find a
place among the members of that remarkable confraternity
of antagonists, long since deceased, but of green and
pious memory, the Metaphysical Society. Every variety of
philosophical and theological opinion was represented
there, and expressed itself with entire openness; most of my
colleagues were _-ists_ of one sort or another; and, however
kind and friendly they might be, I, the man without a rag of
a label to cover himself with, could not fail to have some of
the uneasy feelings which must have beset the historical fox
when, after leaving the trap in which his tail remained, he
presented himself to his normally elongated companions. So
I took thought, and invented what I conceived to be the
appropriate title of "Agnostic." It came into my head as
suggestively antithetic to the "Gnostic" of Church history,
who professed to know so much about the very things of which I
was ignorant; and I took the earliest opportunity of parading
it at our Society to show that I, too, had a tail like the
other foxes. To my great satisfaction, the term took; and when
the _Spectator_ had stood godfather to it, any suspicion
in the minds of respectable people that a knowledge of its
parentage might have awakened was, of course, completely
lulled.
Of his share in the debates the late Prof. Henry Sidgwick gives the
following account:--
There were several members of the Society with whose
philosophical views I had, on the whole, more sympathy; but
there was certainly no one to whom I found it more pleasant
and more instructive to listen. Indeed, I soon came to the
conclusion that there was only one other member of our Society
who could be placed on a par with him as a debater, on the
subjects discussed at our meetings; and that was, curiously
enough, a man of the most diametrically opposed opinion--W. G.
Ward, the well-known advocate of Ultramontanism. Ward was by
training, and perhaps by nature, more of a dialectician;
but your father was unrivalled in the clearness, precision,
succinctness, and point of his statements, in his complete and
ready grasp of his own system of philosophical thought, and
the quickness and versatility with which his thought at once
assumed the right attitude of defence against any argument
coming from any quarter. I used to think that while others of
us could perhaps find, on the spur of the moment, _an_ answer
more or less effective to some unexpected attack, your father
seemed always able to find _the_ answer--I mean the answer
that it was reasonable to give, consistently with his general
view, and much the same answer that he would have given if he
had been allowed the fullest time for deliberation.
The general tone of the Metaphysical Society was one of
extreme consideration for the feelings of opponents, and your
father's speaking formed no exception to the general harmony.
At the same time, I seemed to remember him as the most
combative of all the speakers who took a leading part in
the debates. His habit of never wasting words, and the edge
naturally given to his remarks by his genius for clear and
effective statement, partly account for this impression;
still, I used to think that he liked fighting, and
occasionally liked to give play to his sarcastic
humour--though always strictly within the limits imposed by
courtesy. I remember that on one occasion, when I had read
to the Society an essay on "The Incoherence of Empiricism," I
looked forward with some little anxiety to his criticisms;
and when they came I felt that my anxiety had not been
superfluous; he "went for" the weak points of my argument in
half-a-dozen trenchant sentences, of which I shall not
forget the impression. It was hard hitting, though perfectly
courteous and fair.
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