(I think the “Spectator” first adopted and popularised both), until now Agnostics are assuming the position of a recognised sect, and Agnosticism is honoured by especial obloquy on the part of the orthodox.  Thus it will be seen that I have a sort of patent right in “Agnostic” (it is my trade mark), and I am entitled to say that I can state authentically what was originally meant by Agnosticism.  What other people may understand by it, by this time, I do not know.  If a General Council of the Church Agnostic were held, very likely I should be condemned as a heretic.  But I speak only for myself in answering these questions.

1.  Agnosticism is of the essence of science, whether ancient or modern.  It simply means that a man shall not say he knows or believes that which he has no scientific grounds for professing to know or believe.

2.  Consequently Agnosticism puts aside not only the greater part of popular theology, but also the greater part of popular anti-theology.  On the whole, the “bosh” of heterodoxy is more offensive to me than that of orthodoxy, because heterodoxy professes to be guided by reason and science, and orthodoxy does not.

3.  I have no doubt that scientific criticism will prove destructive to the forms of supernaturalism which enter into the constitution of existing religions.  On trial of any so-called miracle the verdict of science is “Not proven.”  But true Agnosticism will not forget that existence, motion, and law-abiding operation in nature are more stupendous miracles than any recounted by the mythologies, and that there may be things, not only in the heavens and earth, but beyond the intelligible universe, which “are not dreamt of in our philosophy.”  The theological “gnosis” would have us believe that the world is a conjurer’s house; the anti-theological “gnosis” talks as if it were a “dirt-pie,” made by the two blind children, Law and Force.  Agnosticism simply says that we know nothing of what may be behind phenomena.); [to the building of the new house at Eastbourne, and to the marriage in quick succession of his two youngest daughters, whereby, indeed, the giving up of the house in London and definite departure from London was made possible.

All the early part of the year, till he found it necessary to go to Switzerland again, he stayed unwillingly in Eastbourne, from time to time running up to town, or having son or daughter to stay with him for a week, his wife being too busy to leave town, with the double preparations for the weddings on hand, so that he writes to her:] “I feel worse than the ‘cowardly agnostic’ I am said to be—­for leaving you to face your botherations alone.” [One can picture him still firm of tread, with grizzled head a little stooped from his square shoulders, pacing the sea wall with long strides, or renewing somewhat of his strength as it again began to fail, in the keener air of the downs, warmly defended against chill by a big cap—­for he had been suffering from his ears—­and a long rough coat.  He writes (February 22):] “I have bought a cap with flaps to protect my ears.  I look more ‘doggy’ than ever.” [And on March 3:—­]