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Henry Sidgwick- Eye of the Universe

Page 25

by Bart Schultz


  simply the natural and inevitable thing to do.” (M ) He explained the

  case more fully to Mrs. Clough, in a letter from July of :

  As for my resignation and consequent prospects, you are very good to think about

  them. Personally I feel no doubt that I have done right. For long I have had no doubt except what arose from the fact that most of the persons whose opinion I most

  regard think differently. But one must at last act on one’s own view. It is my painful conviction that the prevailing lax subscription is not perfectly conscientious in

  the case of many subscribers: and that those who subscribe laxly from the highest

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  motives are responsible for the degradation of moral and religious feeling that

  others suffer. It would require very clear and evident gain of some other kind

  to induce me to undergo this responsibility. And such gain I do not see. Even

  if I make the extreme supposition that all heretics avow themselves such and

  are driven away from the universities, some harm would no doubt be done, but

  not so much as is supposed. A reaction must come soon and the universities be

  thrown open; meanwhile there are plenty of excellent teachers on all subjects who

  are genuinely orthodox; and even as regards religious speculation the passion for

  truth in young minds would be stimulated by such an event, and they would find

  plenty of sources for “illumination” even if our rushlights were put out.

  All this is, of course, an unpractical supposition. I make it to show myself that I

  am obeying a sound general rule – I feel very strongly the importance of “providing

  things honest in the sight of all men.” It is surely a great good that one’s moral

  position should be one that simple-minded people can understand. I happen to

  care very little what men in general think of me individually: but I care very much

  about what they think of human nature. I dread doing anything to support the

  plausible suspicion that men in general, even those who profess lofty aspirations,

  are secretly swayed by material interests.

  After all, it is odd to be finding subtle reasons for an act of mere honesty: but I

  am reduced to that by the refusal of my friends to recognise it as such. (M )

  Thus, as always, Sidgwick is concerned about the general state of

  public morals, worrying away about egoistic hypocrisy – for why is it

  a “plausible suspicion” that “men in general, even those who profess

  lofty aspirations, are secretly swayed by material interests”? Is that not at

  least part of the “degradation of moral and religious feeling” that even

  high-minded laxity aggravates? Is he not still worried about “fire and

  strength” and cultivating a humanity that knows and values self-sacrifice

  and sympathy?

  Even so, Sidgwick refrained from being too unctuous about his course.

  As he wrote to Dakyns, the “great, vital, productive, joy-giving qualities

  that I admire in others I cannot attain to: I can only lay on the altar of

  humanity as an offering this miserable bit of legal observance.” In fact,

  he simply hates being “forced to condemn others . . . for not acting in the

  same way,” although he admits that “a moral impulse must be universally-

  legislative: the notion of ‘gratifying my own conscience’ is to me self-

  contradictory.” Even his positivism is “half-against” him – the “effect on

  society of maintaining the standard of veracity is sometimes so shadowy

  that I feel as if I was conforming to a mere ‘metaphysical’ formula.” He

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  has, he feels, been “under water in the depths of abstract-ethical egoistic

  debate,” and he longs to “emerge; perhaps I shall recover the calm outward

  gaze, the quick helpful hand, of the lover and child of nature.” (M –

  ).

  Hardly a likely outcome, for a Sidgwick. Noel wrote to him: “You must

  feel fish-out-of-watery?”

  But things did turn out tolerably well. Once again, Cambridge proved

  to be Sidgwick’s salvation. As he explained to his mother, in a letter dated

  June , :

  Everything is settled. The “Seniority” have offered me the post of Lecturer on

  Moral Sciences on £ a year, with the understanding that I am going to repudiate

  all dogmatic obligations, – I mean to resign my fellowship because it is held on terms of such obligations. I have also had a conversation with Lightfoot (whom I name orthodox causâ) who is very kind and understands the step as I mean it –

  regretting it, of course. I have been partly determined by his advice not to secede

  from the Church of England. I have no wish to do that, as long as orthodox persons

  of a reasonable sort – I mean persons who really do accept the “Apostles Creed”

  and yet are not bigots – have no wish that I should secede from it. I think that as

  “Apostles Creed” is used in Baptism and Confirmation, I am primâ facie supposed to accept it, and ought not to claim the social privileges of a member of the Church

  against the wish of the mass of reasonable persons in it. At the same time I do

  not think one is bound to regard the creed that is necessary for admission as

  meaning for bonâ fide membership afterwards, if reasonable orthodox persons do not so regard it. And my wish is to show myself as sympathetic as possible to the

  national religion, while declining to profess agreement with it’s doctrines. (CWC)

  This decision on the part of the “Seniority,” which must have included

  Maurice, allowed Sidgwick to carry on in his familiar life, though with

  some reduction in income. And the counsel of Bishop Lightfoot allowed

  him to carry on some semblance of his church affiliation. Here, of course,

  one sees the careful gradations of duty according to role. The standard of

  veracity for laity and that for clergy or those taking definite tests are not

  necessarily the same thing. If Lightfoot held that the Apostles’ Creed was

  “not dogmatically obligatory on laymen,” then that was the reasonable

  view (M ). The balance of considerations involved in showing his

  sympathy for the national religion while declining to profess it is perhaps

  what would have been expected, given his rationalist tendencies hedged

  by skepticism. Some lines from Tennyson apparently caught his mood:

  “Yet pull not down my minster towers, that were / So gravely, gloriously

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  wrought; / Perchance I may return with oth
ers there / When I have

  cleared my thought” (M ).

  VIII. The Ethics of Conformity and Subscription

  I have written a pamphlet . . . which will perhaps be printed – on the text, ‘Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind.’ That is really the gist of the

  pamphlet – that if the preachers of religion wish to retain their hold over educated

  men they must show in their utterances on sacred occasions the same sincerity,

  exactness, unreserve, that men of science show in expounding the laws of nature.

  I do not think that much good is to be done by saying this, but I want to liberate

  my soul, and then ever after hold my peace.

  Sidgwick to his sister, Mary, April  (M )

  What were the actual consequences of Sidgwick’s resignation? How

  accurate was his assessment of the situation? How, exactly, did his strug-

  gle with the question of subscription lead him through the thinking ex-

  pounded in The Methods of Ethics? Was this episode really as significant

  as he seemed to think? Was it the culmination of his years of storm and

  stress?

  These are difficult questions, but in the final analysis, there appears to

  be little reason to doubt the veracity of Sidgwick’s estimate of these mat-

  ters. The themes and problematics of his resignation crisis, the anxieties

  over egoism and hypocrisy, would reverberate and replay themselves in his

  later life and work, forming a turbulent subcurrent running beneath his

  cautious reformism and weighty academic efforts to gauge just what the

  British public might be ripe for. Once one reads such works as the Methods

  and the Elements of Politics bearing in mind Sidgwick’s profound commit-

  ment to avoiding the rupture of common sense and common religion –

  the importance, for him, of instigating social change only from a platform

  firmly planted in the realities of the present (or of at least masking the call

  for change by an appeal to what we all think) – it becomes very difficult

  to resist the thought that his formative period formed him for a very long

  time to come. The Apostolic virtues of the discussion group must allow

  the interplay of speaker and hearer, proceeding (ideally, anyway) from

  an empathetic grasp of the views of one’s partners. In a very real sense,

  Sidgwick wanted to regard the larger public as a conversational part-

  ner, albeit one he could come to understand and guide, educate, without

  offending.

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  A good way to appreciate the position Sidgwick had reached in the

  late sixties is by attending closely to his pamphlet on “The Ethics of

  Conformity and Subscription.” It was a profoundly Cloughian piece of

  work, replete with all the anxieties of an anxious age, but also with a certain

  fearless zest – the liberation of a soul that had been long pent up.

  “Conformity and Subscription” certainly conveys Sidgwick’s sense that

  the Cloughian age had come. He is impressed by the “large strides” that

  have been made “towards complete civil and social equality of creeds”

  and thinks the “secular disadvantages that religious dissidences formerly

  entailed, have been so rapidly diminishing, that we may look forward

  confidently to their speedy exinction.” Thus, we “have abolished church

  rates; we are inaugurating a system of primary education, which is, at any

  rate, designed to place all sects, as far as possible, on a par; and it is obvious

  that the ecclesiastical restrictions on the higher education cannot be much

  longer maintained.” (CS )

  Most importantly, Sidgwick is persuaded that “on the whole, the recog-

  nition of the necessity of free inquiry, and of the possibility of conscientious

  difference of opinion, almost without limit, is so general, that most of my

  readers will be prepared to discuss the question on the neutral ground of

  ethics.” Indeed, the “effort to unite cordially with Dissenters, wherever

  such union is possible, has ceased to be the differencing characteristic of

  one party in the Church of England; and it is but rarely that a conformist

  dares to avow in public any sentiment but respect for conscientious non-

  conformity.” Even those fighting “for the relics of Anglican privilege” have

  given up grave admonitions concerning schism, offering instead “voluble

  and pathetic appeals to ‘our common Christianity’.” (CS , ) All this

  toleration is not “the mere drapery of enlightened unbelief ” or a mere

  “external compromise,” but is in fact deeply rooted in

  the present tendencies of religious thought; and not of religious thought only, but of all thought on subjects where first principles and method are as yet indeterminate,

  and where therefore persons of equal intelligence, sincerity, and application, are

  continually led to the most profoundly diverse conclusions. Controversies on

  such subjects are carried on, not perhaps less keenly than before, but more fairly,

  temperately, and dispassionately, with more mutual understanding, and, we may

  almost say, mutual interest, in the conflicting opinions. This tempered dogmatism

  must be carefully distinguished from the superficial eclecticism that sometimes

  results from the same causes, the state of mind that prides itself on holding no

  form of creed in particular, but combining the best parts of all: this latter is

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  not, I think, peculiarly characteristic of the present age; what I am noticing is

  the habit of holding opinions firmly and earnestly, and yet, as it were, at arm’s

  length, of seeing how they look when viewed on the outside, and divining by

  analogy how the opinions of others look when viewed on the inside. A dogmatist

  of this temper has a natural respect for, even a spontaneous sympathy with, any

  one who holds any creed with consistency, clearness, and sincerity. Accordingly,

  one result of this increase of real internal toleration on the part of dogmatists,

  is to encourage much greater openness and unreserve on the part of heretics

  of all kinds and degrees. This openness is sometimes deplored by ecclesiastical

  writers and speakers, but in the present strained relations of intellectual culture

  and religious faith, the most fatal mistake that can be made in the interests of the

  latter, next to that of discouraging theological inquiry as sinful, is to discourage

  the expression of theological disagreement as unedifying. It would be a great

  gain to religion if preachers would abandon all idea of restricting inquiry and

  discussion, and confine themselves entirely (in so far as they deal with the question) to improving the method of inquiry, and elevating the manner of the discussion.

  (CS 
–)

  All this was profoundly heartfelt, of course, though it strikes a slightly

  more optimistic note than the earlier letter to Mill. The direction of

  the times is here made to sound highly Apostolic, as the flowering

  of Socratic discussion conjoined with sympathy. But of course, unlike

  Arnold, Sidgwick gives this cultural change a certain modernist cast: “this

  frankness, even audacity, in theological investigation and discussion, is ren-

  dered especially necessary by a fact, the influence of which upon theology

  is often noticed, although not quite from this point of view – I mean the

  increasing predominance of positive science as an element of our highest

  intellectual culture.” Sidgwick does not agree with those who hold that

  for those of a scientific bent, “theology must inevitably become more and

  more shadowy and unreal, and its interminable debates more and more

  distasteful.” Perhaps he had psychical research in mind, as well as Darwin,

  when he continued by suggesting “that the scientific inquiries which are

  most eagerly pursued, and excite the keenest interest in lookers-on, are

  precisely those where the method is least determinate, the reasonings most

  hypothetical, and the conclusions most disputable.” But the crucial point

  is that

  What theology has to learn from the predominant studies of the age is something

  very different from advice as to its method or estimates of its utility; it is the

  imperative necessity of accepting unreservedly the conditions of life under which

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  Henry Sidgwick: Eye of the Universe

  these studies live and flourish. It is sometimes said that we live in an age that rejects authority. The statement, thus qualified, seems misleading; probably there never

  was a time when the number of beliefs held by each individual, undemonstrated

  and unverified by himself, was greater. But it is true that we only accept authority

  of a particular sort; the authority, namely, that is formed and maintained by the

  unconstrained agreement of individual thinkers, each of whom we believe to

  be seeking truth with single-mindedness and sincerity, and declaring what he

 

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