“We do seem to find,” Professor Murray writes, “not only in all religions, but in practically all philosophies, some belief that man is not quite alone in the universe, but is met in his endeavours towards the good by some external help or sympathy.  We find it everywhere in the unsophisticated man.  We find it in the unguarded self-revelations of the most severe and conscientious Atheists.  Now, the Stoics, like many other schools of thought, drew an argument from this consensus of all mankind.  It was not an absolute proof of the existence of the Gods or Providence, but it was a strong indication.  The existence of a common instinctive belief in the mind of man gives at least a presumption that there must be a good cause for that belief.

“This is a reasonable position.  There must be some such cause.  But it does not follow that the only valid cause is the truth of the content of the belief.  I cannot help suspecting that this is precisely one of those points on which Stoicism, in company with almost all philosophy up to the present time, has gone astray through not sufficiently realising its dependence on the human mind as a natural biological product.  For it is very important in this matter to realise that the so-called belief is not really an intellectual judgment so much as a craving of the whole nature.

“It is only of very late years that psychologists have begun to realise the enormous dominion of those forces in man of which he is normally unconscious.  We cannot escape as easily as these brave men dreamed from the grip of the blind powers beneath the threshold.  Indeed, as I see philosophy after philosophy falling into this unproven belief in the Friend behind phenomena, as I find that I myself cannot, except for a moment and by an effort, refrain from making the same assumption, it seems to me that perhaps here too we are under the spell of a very old ineradicable instinct.  We are gregarious animals; our ancestors have been such for countless ages.  We cannot help looking out on the world as gregarious animals do; we see it in terms of humanity and of fellowship.  Students of animals under domestication have shown us how the habits of a gregarious creature, taken away from his kind, are shaped in a thousand details by reference to the lost pack which is no longer there—­the pack which a dog tries to smell his way back to all the time he is out walking, the pack he calls to for help when danger threatens.  It is a strange and touching thing, this eternal hunger of the gregarious animal for the herd of friends who are not there.  And it may be, it may very possibly be, that, in the matter of this Friend behind phenomena our own yearning and our own almost ineradicable instinctive conviction, since they are certainly not founded on either reason or observation, are in origin the groping of a lonely-souled gregarious animal to find its herd or its herd-leader in the great spaces between the stars.

“At any rate, it is a belief very difficult to get rid of.”