I am too much a believer in Butler and in the great principle of the “Analogy” that “there is no absurdity in theology so great that you cannot parallel it by a greater absurdity of Nature” (it is not commonly stated in this way), to have any difficulties about miracles.  I have never had the least sympathy with the a priori reasons against orthodoxy, and I have by nature and disposition the greatest possible antipathy to all the atheistic and infidel school.

Nevertheless, I know that I am, in spite of myself, exactly what the Christian world call, and, so far as I can see, are justified in calling, atheist and infidel.  I cannot see one shadow or tittle of evidence that the great unknown underlying the phenomena of the universe stands to us in the relation of a Father—­loves us and cares for us as Christianity asserts.  On the contrary, the whole teaching of experience seems to me to show that while the governance (if I may use the term) of the universe is rigorously just and substantially kind and beneficent, there is no more relation of affection between governor and governed than between me and the twelve judges.  I know the administrators of the law desire to do their best for everybody, and that they would rather not hurt me than otherwise, but I also know that under certain circumstances they will most assuredly hang me; and that in any case it would be absurd to suppose them guided by any particular affection for me.

This seems to me to be the relation which exists between the cause of the phenomena of this universe and myself.  I submit to it with implicit obedience and perfect cheerfulness, and the more because my small intelligence does not see how any other arrangement could possibly be got to work as the world is constituted.

But this is what the Christian world calls atheism, and because all my toil and pains does not enable me to see my way to any other conclusion than this, a Christian judge would (if he knew it) refuse to take my evidence in a court of justice against that of a Christian ticket-of-leave man.

So with regard to the other great Christian dogmas, the immortality of the soul, and the future state of rewards and punishments, what possible objection a priori can I—­who am compelled perforce to believe in the immortality of what we call Matter and Force and in a very unmistakable present state of rewards and punishments for all our deeds—­have to these doctrines?  Give me a scintilla of evidence, and I am ready to jump at them.

But read Butler, and see to what drivel even his great mind descends when he has to talk about the immortality of the soul!  I have never seen an argument on that subject which from a scientific point of view is worth the paper it is written upon.  All resolve themselves into this formula:—­The doctrine of the immortality of the soul is very pleasant and very useful, therefore it is true.

All the grand language about “human aspiration,” “consistency with the divine justice,” etc., etc., collapses into this at last—­Better the misery of the “Vale! in aeternum vale!” ten times over than the opium of such empty sophisms—­I have drunk of that cup to the bottom.