CHAPTER II.

POSITION TAKEN BY THE AUTHORS—PHYSICAL AXIOMS.

‘Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God; so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.’—HEBREWS XI. 3.

50. In the preceding chapter we have given a very brief epitome of the various beliefs regarding immortality and the invisible world held by the civilised nations of the earth, from the earliest dawn of history to the present day. Our object has been not so much to enter even into general details as to present boldly those particular features of each system of belief which are most closely concerned with the subject of our work. Thus our account of each separate system is intentionally incomplete, even as a simple sketch. It is now time to say something about the object of this book, as well as to define the position from which we mean to start in pursuance of that object. We shall therefore commence by dividing those who at all concern themselves about our theme into three great classes.

First, we have those who are so absolutely certain of the truth of their views of religion, and of the immortality which they believe it teaches, that they are not qualified to entertain or even to perceive any scientific objection. They acknowledge that certain deductions made by men of science appear to contradict or to be incompatible with certain truths of their religion. But these they regard as premature conclusions, averring that when the laws of nature have been more deeply investigated, there will be found a perfect concord between science and revelation. Certain scientific truths they readily assent to, and it is only the altogether human superstructure of speculation built upon these that they profess to question. ‘You have built,’ they say, ‘upon the rock of truth a structure of wood, hay, stubble, and you would persuade us that it is the very temple of God. We will not enter it, but will patiently wait in the expectation of seeing it speedily consumed with fire.’

Now, whatever be the merits or demerits of such men, it is not for them we write. Their merit may consist in having made a perfectly true charge against certain classes of scientific men—their demerit probably in having themselves treated religion precisely as they accuse their adversaries of having treated scientific truth. We must let them alone—they will not be influenced by anything that we can say. We may perhaps be praised by them in a certain measure if it be thought that we have helped to overthrow the superstructure built by their adversaries; we shall certainly be condemned by them if it be thought that we have helped to weaken any portion of the superstructure which they themselves have reared.

51. In the next place, and occupying a middle position, we have those who see strong grounds for believing in a future life for man and in the existence of an invisible world, but who at the same time are forced to acknowledge the strength of the objections urged against these doctrines by certain men of science. Some of this class attach much weight to the evidence in favour of these doctrines derived from the Christian records; others again, unable to believe in these records, are yet powerfully impressed by the universal longing for immortality which civilised man has always shown, while others attach nearly equal importance to both kinds of evidence. Nevertheless, all of the class of which we now speak have deeply studied the scientific objections, and do not well see how to surmount them. It is to this class that we shall especially address ourselves in the following chapters.

52. The third class of men are those of the extreme materialistic school. All human history, including the life of Christ and that which took place in connection with it, all yearnings of man for immortality, all life, from that of the noblest of human beings to that of the primordial animated germ, are explained by this class as the result of the interaction of material atoms guided by certain measurable physical forces. They consider that they have no reason to believe that there is anything beyond or beside the visible universe, and in consequence they decline entering into any argument upon the subject. Their premiss may be wrong, but their conclusion follows from it as a matter of course. We have examined (say they) all the evidence in favour of another universe, and find it utterly worthless, why then should we discuss the subject?—it is one of those delusions that are common in man. When a traveller pretends to have received information about some strange and distant country, our first step is to inquire whether he is a trustworthy and sane man, and if we find he is otherwise, it is quite unnecessary for us to discuss either the information which he brings, or the objections to that information. You pretend to show the scientific possibility that this information may be correct, but why should we study your argument since there is no evidence for supposing that there is any such place?

53. To these men we would reply that, even assuming their own point of view, our scheme will, we venture to suggest, be found to give a more complete and continuous explanation of the visible order of things than one which proceeds upon the assumption that there is nothing else. In this respect we may liken it to the hypothesis of atoms, or that of an ethereal medium, for neither of which have we the direct evidence of our senses, both of which have nevertheless been adopted as affording the best explanations of the phenomena of the visible universe.

54. Our readers being thus classed will now be anxious to learn our position. Let us begin by stating at once that we assume, as absolutely self-evident, the existence of a Deity who is the Creator and Upholder of all things. (Romans i. 19-21.)

We further look upon the laws of the universe as those laws according to which the beings in the universe are conditioned by the Governor thereof, as regards time, place, and sensation.

It is for instance on account of these laws that we cannot be present in different places at the same time; or move over more than a certain space in a certain time, or think more than a certain number of thoughts; or feel more than a certain number of sensations in a certain given time.

And hence while we can very easily imagine an intelligence superior to ourselves, but yet finite, to be very differently conditioned, we cannot imagine any finite intelligence to be absolutely without conditions. At any rate, if finite intelligences unconditioned with respect to time and space be conceivable existences, they must of necessity be so absolutely unconnected with the present universe, which has reference to time and space, that their existence need not be contemplated so far at least as our argument is concerned.

55. It will thus be seen that we cannot conceive of finite intelligences existing in the universe without being in some way conditioned; but we now come to a point which deserves a somewhat fuller discussion. We can imagine the materialists saying to us:

‘You are right in asserting the inconceivability of such intelligence as that of man existing without being conditioned, which to our mind implies some sort of association with matter—that is precisely the view we ourselves take. But, on the other hand, _we_ can very well conceive of matter existing without intelligence, as for instance a block of wood, or a bar of iron.[27] Thus the connection between these two things, matter and mind, is of such a nature, that mind cannot exist without matter, while matter can and does exist without mind. Is there not therefore a reality about matter which there is not about mind?[28] Can we conceive a single particle of matter to go out of the universe for six or eight hours and then to return to it; but do we not every day see our consciousness disappearing in the case of deep sleep, or in a swoon, and then returning to us again? Far be it from us to deny that we have something which is called consciousness, and is utterly distinct from matter and the properties of matter, as these are regarded in Physics. But may not the connection between the two be of this nature?—When a certain number of material particles consisting of phosphorus, carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and perhaps some other elements, are, in consequence of the operations of their mutual forces, in certain positions with respect to each other, and in certain states of motion, consciousness is the result, but whenever this relative state is brought to an end, there is also an end of consciousness and the sense of individual existence, while however the particles of phosphorus, carbon, etc., remain as truly as ever.’

56. Now this means that matter must be looked upon as mistress of the house, and individual consciousness as an occasional visitor whom she permits to partake of her hospitality, turning him out of doors whenever the larder is empty. It is worth while to investigate the process of thought which gives rise to this curious conception of the economy of the universe.

In the first place, it is clear that certain arrangements are made in the universe, in virtue of which corresponding sensations are produced simultaneously in different individuals, while in other arrangements the sensations produced are the peculiar property of some one individual. The one set have come to be associated with objective realities, while the other set are concerned with subjective impressions. I am affected by a pain in my head, and I am also affected by the sun, but the one affection is the peculiar product of my brain, and I carry it about with me, while experience has shown me that I cannot appropriate the other; yet it also becomes mine so soon as it has reached my brain.

It will further be allowed, that there are certain material particles which may become vehicles for either or both of these kinds of sensations, while there are others which have the power of producing one only. Gold, silver, and platinum are substances which may become the vehicle of common impressions, but not of peculiar impressions, since they do not occur in our brains. Phosphorus, on the other hand, is a substance which may become the vehicle of either kind. When we burn a piece of phosphorus in a lecture-room it is the vehicle of a common impression, while the phosphorus in our brain is the vehicle of a peculiar impression. Now there is a very noteworthy difference between portions of phosphorus playing these two parts. When phosphorus is in the common state, we can experiment upon it and investigate its properties, but this we cannot do when it exists in the brain in its peculiar state. The assertion, therefore, that phosphorus and its allied particles, whose motions and positions are accompanied by individual consciousness, are nevertheless, when in this state, essentially the same as they are in the ordinary state, appears to us to be altogether without foundation. We have no right thus to argue from the one state to the other. For that most peculiar and interesting condition of phosphorus and other matter in which it is intimately connected with the production of individual consciousness, and where some peculiarity of properties or behaviour due to this connection might most warrantably be expected, is the very thing which we cannot investigate. To say therefore that the living brain consists of particles of phosphorus, carbon, etc., _such as we know them in the common state_, and that when the particles of the brain have, in consequence of the operation of physical forces, a certain position and motion, then individual consciousness follows, is to assign a peculiar relation between the brain-particles and such consciousness for which we have no scientific warrant.

57. Allied to this assumption there is another in the materialistic argument as we have stated it. If in the body there be no other material than the visible particles, and in the brain no other material than a certain quantity of phosphorus and other things, such as we know them in the common state, and if individual consciousness depends upon the structural presence of these substances in the body and brain, then when this structure falls to pieces there are of course reasonable grounds for supposing that such consciousness has entirely ceased. But it is the object of this volume to exhibit various scientific reasons for believing that there is something beyond that which we call the visible universe; and that individual consciousness is in some mysterious manner related to, or dependent upon, the interaction of the seen and unseen.

58. There remains yet that part of the argument which hints that individual consciousness is less permanent than matter, inasmuch as such consciousness frequently departs from the universe for six or eight hours and then returns to it again. In one sense this is unquestionably true, while, however, there is a potential or latent consciousness or possibility of consciousness that remains behind.[29] It will be seen in the sequel that this fact of latent consciousness will be used by us to strengthen our argument in favour of a future state.

59. We may conclude, as the result of this discussion, that the connection between mind and matter is a very intimate one, although we are in profound ignorance as to its exact nature.

The intimacy of this connection is a doctrine almost universally held by modern physiologists. Just as no single action of the body takes place without the waste of some muscular tissue, so, it is believed, no thought takes place without some waste of the brain. Nay, physiologists go even further, and assert that each specific thought denotes some specific waste of brain matter, so that there is some mysterious and obscure connection between the nature of the thought and the nature of the waste which it occasions. In like manner memory is looked upon as dependent upon traces, left behind in the brain, of the state in which it was when the sensation remembered took place. Thus Professor Huxley in his Belfast address (1874) tells us: ‘It is not to be doubted that those motions which give rise to sensation leave on the brain changes of its substance which answer to what Haller called “_vestigia rerum_,” and to what that great thinker David Hartley termed “Vibratiuncules.” The sensation which has passed away leaves behind molecules of the brain competent to its reproduction—“sensigenous molecules,” so to speak—which constitute the physical foundation of memory.’

60. It will be inferred from what we have said that one of the essential requisites of continued existence of the individual is the capability of retaining some sort of hold upon the past: and, inasmuch as we are unable to contemplate such a thing as a finite disembodied spirit, or, to speak more precisely, an unconditioned finite spirit, it is further evident that this hold implies an organ of some sort. This we conceive to be a perfectly general proposition. We do not limit ourselves in making it to any particular arrangement of bodily form, or to any particular rank of finite organised intelligence. From the archangel to the brute we conceive that something analogous to an organ of memory must be possessed by each. This is, in fact, merely a corollary to what has been stated in Art. 54 above, and does not require any further discussion.

61. But if one general requisite of independent and responsible life be a connection with the past, another is the possibility of action in the present. A living being must have in his frame the capacity of varied movement. He must possess an organisation in which there is the power of calling internal forces into play at irregular intervals dependent on his will. We cannot imagine life to be associated with a motionless mass or with a mass which moves in an invariable manner.

The living being need not always be in motion, but he must retain the capacity of moving. He need not always be thinking, but he must retain the capacity of thought. He need not always be conscious, but he must retain the capacity of consciousness.

To sum up—it thus appears that there are two general conditions of organised life. There must in the first place be an organ connecting the individual with the past, and in the next place there must be such a frame and such a universe that he has the power of varied action in the present. We particularly request our readers to keep well in mind these two propositions, since it is upon them that our argument will ultimately in great part be built.

62. We come now to a very important part of our inquiry. It will be necessary to discuss that which we term the _Principle of Continuity_, and desirable to begin by defining exactly what is meant by us when these words are used.[30] Let us introduce our definition by one or two illustrative examples.

Take a particular problem of astronomy, for instance, and, beginning at the very commencement, let us suppose an early Egyptian or Chaldean astronomer to be observing the sun in the middle of summer. Day after day, for perhaps a week, he has noticed that this luminary rises over a certain place and sets over a certain other place, and he conceives that he has now obtained some definite information regarding the sun. His idea is, that the sun will go on always doing the same thing, and he therefore predicts to his fellows, who are less observant than himself, exactly where it will rise and where it will set. They join him in observing the luminary for a week or more, and the sagacity of our primeval astronomer is triumphantly vindicated: the sun is found doing as nearly as possible that which had been predicted of it.

63. These men have now got hold of the idea that the sun will always rise and set at the same places, that in fact his daily journey is always the same, and that he performs it in the same time. But in the course of six months they suspect they are mistaken. Discredit is thrown upon the sagacity of our astronomer, and he broods over his disgrace for six months longer. At the end of this time, on turning his eyes towards the sun, what is his surprise and delight to find that luminary doing the very thing that he had all along predicted, returning once more to his old points of rising and setting,—places, we may presume, which could be easily remembered on account of some peculiarity of landscape. He is not yet prepared however for a higher generalisation, but again calls for his fellows, and while he suspects a certain amount of irregularity in the sun, yet succeeds in convincing them that his guess was after all not far from the truth. Once again he is reinstated in their good opinion.

64. However, six months after, precisely the same thing recurs once more; the rising and setting points are now considerably different from those predicted. Our astronomer again loses credit, and regains it only partially six months afterwards, when the points are once more right. But he has now learned a lesson. He perceives a method in all this, and ultimately rises, by means of the difficulty, to a higher generalisation. He sees that the rising and setting points of the sun go through the complete series of their changes of position in about 365 days; and he has thus learned, in a rude way, that the sun has two motions, one of which he accomplishes in 24 hours, or one day, while the other has a period of 365 days, or one year.

65. While these things are in progress, a portentous and wholly unexpected event takes place: the sun for four minutes is totally extinguished. Our astronomer meditates much on this strange phenomenon, and is inclined to regard it as a triumph of the powers of Darkness, in personal conflict with those of Light. Nevertheless he does not neglect to keep a record of the precise day on which it took place.

66. Years pass away, and our astronomer has passed away with them—he and all his generation; but a regular record is now kept of celestial occurrences, and especially of eclipses. At length it comes to be perceived that there is a periodicity even in such untoward phenomena, and an attempt is ultimately made, by means of this knowledge, to predict when the next eclipse will take place. It is perfectly successful, and the event loses from thenceforth much of its portentous significance.

67. Centuries roll on, and the apparent motions of the heavenly bodies have now been gradually reduced to system. The stars in particular are found to move, just as if they were attached to the roof of a great hollow vault which revolves round the earth once in twenty-four hours. But even amongst them there are five exceptions—namely, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn—which perform a sort of wandering or zigzag motion in the midst of their stationary brethren, and have in consequence received the name of planets. All, however, are supposed to move round the earth, which forms the centre of the universe.

68. In process of time, this superiority of the earth over the heavenly bodies comes to be questioned. There is a rising tendency to regard our earth as a somewhat insignificant member of a great system, rather than as something apart by itself. These tendencies are, however, strongly opposed by the authorities of a large section of the Christian Church, on the ground that the language employed in the Jewish Scriptures is against such a method of regarding the universe. Nevertheless the Copernican system ultimately prevails, and the planets and the earth are associated together as stars which travel round the sun; while the diurnal motion of the heavenly bodies is attributed to a motion of the earth round its axis. And we cannot help thinking that philosophers of the present day are too much disposed to undervalue the absolutely enormous stride that was made when the Copernican system was fully established.

69. But the planets are still supposed to move in perfect circles round the sun; for besides the fact that this hypothesis agrees very well with observation, there is a simplicity in the circle which leads philosophers to believe that nature would adopt it in preference to any more complicated curve. Has it not been found that all apparent deviation from simplicity was in reality due to the fact that our point of view is a movable one, and does not this lead us to believe that the truth will be found in a circular orbit?

70. While such speculations are indulged in, Tycho Brahe is busy with his instruments. He is a thoroughly accurate man of science, and makes most excellent observations of the various planets. These are ultimately discussed by Kepler, who finds that the planets do not move round the sun in circles, but in ellipses, having the sun in one focus. He finds too that any one planet describes areas which are proportional to the times of description; while the squares of the periodic times of the various planets are proportional to the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. These are Kepler’s laws; they are yet, however, only empirical. We know them to be true, but we cannot tell why they should be as they are and not otherwise.

71. It was reserved for the genius of Newton to show us why the planets should obey these laws, and to reduce the planetary system under the domain of ordinary mechanics. He succeeded in showing that every mass of matter attracts every other mass with a force which is directly proportional to the product of the masses, and inversely proportional to the square of the distance, and that this universal force accounts, not only for Kepler’s laws of planetary motion but, for the orbit of the moon, as well as for that of a projectile discharged near the surface of the earth.

72. If we now pause for a moment, and review the progress of this investigation, we shall see that it began with a disposition to regard simplicity of motion as the test of truth, and when the Copernican system showed that our point of view is a movable one, it was at first thought that this would explain all departures from absolute simplicity. But Tycho Brahe and Kepler soon showed that the planets do not move in circles, and we now know that their motions, as well as that of the moon, can only be represented by curves of extreme complexity. Simplicity of motion has disappeared, but it has been replaced by simplicity of inter-relation between the various members of the system which are supposed to attract each other according to a simple and definite law. This law may be supposed to contain in itself implicitly all the various and complicated motions of the solar system. If applied to the past it will enable us to ascertain the exact date of the antient historical eclipses; if applied to the future it will enable us to foretell all but catastrophic astronomical occurrences.

73. Let us now turn to another branch of the same subject. When Galileo first applied his telescope to the sun, he discovered the existence of sun-spots. Their solar origin was however for some time disputed, the schoolmen of that day, holding resolutely to the dicta of Aristotle, being indisposed to believe that there could possibly be any imperfection in the sun. The telescope alone was in fault. There was even a sermon preached on Galileo, the text of which was ‘Viri Galilæi, quid statis in coelum spectantes?’

However, as time went on, observation showed that spots were unmistakably solar phenomena, and these very imperfections are made use of by modern science to obtain for us information regarding the chemical and physical structure of our luminary. It also appears that the position and size of these spots depend upon the positions of the planets Mercury and Venus, and this as well as other phenomena indicate the existence of some mysterious bond between the sun and the various members of his system, possibly other than the law of gravitation, as we now understand it, can express.[31] In fine, simplicity of relation threatens to disappear, just as simplicity of motion disappeared before it.

74. Nevertheless in this triumphal march the progress has always been from the less to the more perfect, from the glimmering of early dawn to the clear morning light, if not to the bright beams of the noon-day sun. Temporary obstacles have appeared only to be surmounted, and like Augustine’s ladder to constitute a platform from which a higher and more comprehensive view might be obtained. Difficulties too, other than physical,—struggles, weariness, opposition—have been encountered and overcome, nor has there been anything like a grave defeat, or the production of permanent confusion. The concluding words of the _Te Deum_ have been abundantly fulfilled in the experience of the astronomer. He has trusted in God, and he has never been confounded.

75. Here then we have an instance of what is meant by Continuity. It does not imply an easy progress, or a smooth level road; it is consistent with a temporary halt, perhaps not even inconsistent with a temporary break-down, or with momentary despair. We are met by difficulties of many kinds—the rock, the tangled growth, the swamp, the thick darkness, but never by the abyss. Nothing has occurred to convince us that our path has been absolutely wrong from the very commencement, and that we must altogether retrace our steps; and the same thing holds in other problems besides those of astronomy. Once we have accumulated sufficient trustworthy evidence to show us that we are in the right way, we are never afterwards irretrievably defeated.

Before proceeding further, let us here notice a peculiarity which, if it be clearly exhibited in the progress of astronomy, is yet by no means confined to that science, but appears to be characteristic of all physical knowledge.

Things are so arranged and the intellect of man is so constituted that we are led in the progress of science to recognise certain laws which appear at first sight to hold exactly, or which, in other words, have the appearance of absolute truths. As time passes on, and our instruments become more delicate, while our observations with them are multiplied, signs begin to show themselves of very slight deviations from exactitude in these laws.

Meanwhile, these approximate expressions of truth during the long ages (it may be) through which they have been believed, have taken such a hold upon the minds of men that all signs of their imperfect exactitude are at first utterly discredited. Ultimately, however, it is by means of these slight discrepancies that we are led forward to higher generalisations. This was well pointed out by Sir J. Herschel in his _Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy_. In fine, does not something analogous to the principle of continuity prevent us from supposing that we can ever arrive at the ultimate expression of truth on any, however limited, subject? Whenever, therefore, the language in which any scientific truth is embodied appears to us to savour too much of the absolute, is it not a proper and hopeful task to endeavour to break this down? It is on this account that we welcome all attempts to modify the expression of the law of gravitation, which, as our knowledge of it stands at present, seems to present too much of the appearance of an absolute and final truth.[32]

76. Our readers will now perhaps wish to have an example of what we should term a breach of Continuity,—this is easily given. Let us suppose for instance that the sun, moon, and stars were to move about in strange and fantastic orbits during one day, after which they returned to their previous courses. Here we should have an excellent example of a breach of Continuity, for even if things were so arranged as to prevent physical disaster, it is evident that the whole intelligent universe would be plunged into irretrievable mental confusion. Never again could it be said that astronomy is competent to explain the varied motions of the heavenly bodies. The observers would lay down their instruments, and the mathematicians their calculations, and the science would come to an end.

Other examples of a breach of Continuity may be as easily imagined. Suppose for instance that the gold of the world were to disappear for six hours and then return to it again,—should we not have all the social relations of men as well as their conceptions of matter thrown into irretrievable confusion? This would not, however, be due to the mere fact that something had disappeared from the visible universe. Individual consciousness we have seen is seemingly in the habit of doing so and again reappearing, and we do not trouble ourselves much about it.

Continuity, in fine, does not preclude the occurrence of strange, abrupt, unforeseen events in the history of the universe, but only of such events as must finally and for ever put to confusion the intelligent beings who regard them.

77. It thus appears that, assuming the existence of a Supreme Governor of the universe, the principle of Continuity may be said to be the definite expression in words of our trust that He will not put us to permanent intellectual confusion, and we can easily conceive similar expressions of trust with reference to the other faculties of man. Our subject may therefore be approached from other points of view, and other arguments may be used founded on the principle that of two or more alternatives that one is to be selected which puts our faculties to the least confusion. But it is dangerous to speculate much further upon such subjects; the path is so easy, like the ‘pleasant, green lane’ spoken of by Ignorance in the _Pilgrim’s Progress_, that it cannot but soon lead us into certain hopeless realms.[33]

78. Let us now endeavour to apply this principle to a preliminary discussion of the miraculous events which are alleged to have taken place in connection with the life of Christ. We may certainly begin by assuming that had these events been ordinary ones no doubt would have been entertained regarding their actual occurrence; it is not, however, our province to discuss the historical evidence in favour of Christianity.

Now, until of late years, the divines who have asserted the actual occurrence of these events have for the most part attached to this assertion a hypothesis of their own, representing the events in question as due to absolute interferences of the Divine Governor with his usual physical procedure. Each was thus supposed to represent in its physical aspect something which could not possibly be deduced from that which went before or that which followed after.

It was not exactly asserted that they were arbitrary events, or that they were not the results of purpose, but only that the purpose of which they were the accomplishment could not be carried out without some physical break. In fine, with the view of removing spiritual confusion, intellectual confusion was introduced, as being the lesser evil of the two. Thus, if he submits to be guided by such interpreters, each intelligent being will for ever continue to be baffled in any attempt to explain these phenomena, because they are said to have no physical relation to anything that went before or that followed after. In fine, they are made to form a universe within a universe, a portion cut off by an insurmountable barrier from the domain of scientific inquiry.

79. It is not enough to say that we cannot see any foundation for this hypothesis introduced by certain theologians regarding these events. It is certainly necessary to add, as we have already done (Art. 36), that such a method of regarding them is essentially opposed to the genius of Christianity. Whatever may be thought of the person of Christ, it cannot for a moment be said that He was above law. He speaks of himself, and is spoken of by the apostles, as bound in all respects by the laws of the universe. Nor will it suffice to say that He obeyed the moral and spiritual, but broke occasionally the physical, laws of the universe, or had them broken for Him. In fine, we conceive that the New Testament plainly asserts that what Christ accomplished was not in defiance of law, but in fulfilment of it; and that His ability to do so much was simply due to the fact that His position with reference to the universe was different from that of any other man.

80. Of late years, however, a vastly better method of explanation has been introduced. Charles Babbage, the designer of the well-known calculating engine, showed (in a very remarkable book which he called a ninth Bridgewater treatise) that it would be possible to design and construct a machine which, after having worked for a long time according to a particular method of procedure, should suddenly manifest a single breach in its method, and then resume and for ever afterwards keep to its original law. He argued from this that an apparent breach in the physical procedure of the universe is quite consistent with the fundamental idea of law. Jevons also, commenting upon these speculations of Babbage, remarks thus in his _Principles of Science_ (vol. ii. p. 438), ‘If such occurrences can be designed and foreseen by a human artist, it is surely within the capacity of the Divine artist to provide for similar changes of law in the mechanism of the atom, or the construction of the heavens.’

81. While we think that this is a very distinct and important advance upon the old idea, we venture to pronounce it altogether incomplete without some further explanation and modification.

The power of the Divine Being is surely unlimited, but, nevertheless, we have perfect trust that God, whom we believe to have given us intelligence, will work in such a way as not to put us to permanent intellectual confusion. Yet even on this hypothesis, and with this trust, a single apparent exception to the usual procedure may be supposed to occur, if it be allowed that this may be made use of in order to deduce from it the great general law of working which includes both the usual course and the apparent exception. But it appears obvious to us that if the exception be of such a nature that it must for ever confound all the intelligences of the universe who regard it, then we gain nothing by the supposition that it was allowed for in the secret counsels of God.

82. Undoubtedly we cannot permit certain events to be set aside by merely human authority as questions into which it is deemed irreligious, unprofitable, or useless for our reason to pry; nay, we are tempted to advance even further than this, and to assert that it constitutes our duty as well as our privilege to do our best to grasp the meaning of all events which come before us. Does not the material upon which the intellect of man is intended to work include all occurrences, of whatever nature, upon earth—that earth which man is commanded to subdue—a command equivalent to victory?

83. We have now indicated with sufficient clearness the fault we have to find with the theological position as it stood until recently,—let us next briefly allude to the position of the extreme school of science. Ignoring all but the visible universe, and applying the principle of Continuity to its phenomena, the members of this school were indubitably led to most important generalisations regarding the method of working of that great system. They even drove back with much success, and very properly, certain detachments of theologians who had occupied portions of the field in an unwarrantable manner. So far the Genius whom they had summoned up appeared to be the very principle of order. But things wore a different complexion as time went on. It was fancied that historical Christianity must disappear, and that the belief in the reality of a future state must follow after it. They were surrendered. But it was extremely startling when the Genius invoked, not content with what he had already devoured, broadly hinted that the whole visible universe would furnish an acceptable sacrifice,—_then_ even the most extreme partisans of the school began at length to be alarmed. It was too much to be borne, that a Genius summoned up in the very name of order should turn out to be a demon so insatiate as this! Must the whole visible universe, indeed, arrive at such a state as to be totally unfit for the habitation of living beings? The individual they were content to sacrifice, perhaps even the race, but they would spare the universe. Undoubtedly, if it be possible to pity men who could so easily dispense with Christianity and immortality, they had at length got themselves into a deplorable dilemma. For the principle they had invoked was absolutely without pity, and in the most heartless manner continued to point towards the sacrifice of the visible universe. This, they were told, was only a huge fire, and must ultimately burn itself out. Nothing would be left but the ashes,—the dead and worthless body of the present system.

84. No wonder, then, that these men should be startled at their conclusion, and try somehow to evade it. Such an attempt was actually made, and a gleam of lurid light seemed for a moment to illuminate the thick darkness conjured up by the hypothesis. It was conjectured that the visible universe might in reality be infinite, even if the number of stars be not so, and that such a universe might last from eternity to eternity, and if it might not be supposed that such a system could continuously and without interruption afford a habitation for animated beings, yet it might do so discontinuously and by fits and starts, its available energy being recruited by repeated collisions, extending in a series from eternity to eternity. The life of whole systems, perhaps even of whole galaxies, would thus disappear, to be replaced after myriads of ages by the feeble beginnings of an entirely new order of things.

Such a hypothesis no doubt contemplates a ceaseless change, and satisfies so far the requirements of energy. But while the structures built are perishable, the stones out of which they are built—the atoms—are supposed to be eternal. It is this eternity of the atom which vitiates the hypothesis, for we shall show in the sequel that this is a doctrine which can only be held by ignoring the fundamental principles of scientific inquiry. Indeed we can hardly escape from the conclusion that the visible universe must in matter, as well as in transformable energy, come to an end. But the principle of Continuity upon which all such arguments are based still demanding a continuance of the universe, we are forced to believe that there is something beyond that which is visible, or that, to use the words of an old writer (which we have inscribed on our title-page),—‘the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.’

85. Looking back instead of forward—to the origin of this visible universe, rather than to its end, we are brought even more definitely to a similar conclusion. It is perfectly certain, as we shall afterwards see, that the visible universe must have had a beginning in time; but if it be all that exists, then the first abrupt manifestation of it is as truly a break of continuity as its final overthrow.

It may sound strange to some of our readers to be told that it is the duty of the man of science to push back the Great First Cause in time as far as possible; nevertheless, this accurately represents the part in the universe which he is called upon to play.

We dig into the crust of the earth and find therein stratified deposits containing fossil forms, and we may either suppose that God created these as they are, or that they came into their place through the operation of natural forces, and represent the relics of an antient world of life; the latter of these is undoubtedly the scientific hypothesis. The only other hypothesis is that of certain writers belonging to the Church of Rome, who asserted that the devil put the fossils there.

Or, again, we may suppose that God created the sun, placed the earth and the other planets in their present orbits, and gave them the requisite velocities, all at once, or that the solar system gradually condensed into its present state from a chaotic mass of nebulous material; certainly, again, the latter is the scientific hypothesis.

In like manner, if we can suppose any phenomenon, any conditioned order of things, antecedent to the appearance of the visible universe, we have gained a step. In fact, we conceive it to be the duty of the man of science to treat the original production of the visible universe just in the same way as he would any other phenomenon. It is no doubt a very large thing, but we must not be terrified at mere bigness,—we must mete out the same scientific measure to all events, whether they be great or small. We therefore welcome a hypothesis like that of Sir W. Thomson,[34] which regards the primordial atoms of the visible universe as vortices somehow produced in a pre-existing perfect fluid, provided that such a hypothesis is otherwise tenable.

86. Let not any of our readers regard this process as an attempt to drive the Creator out of the field altogether, for this is most assuredly not the case. Is it less reverent to regard the universe as an illimitable avenue which leads up to God, than to look upon it as a limited area bounded by an impenetrable wall, which, if we could only pierce it, would admit us at once into the presence of the Eternal?

In fine, we do not hesitate to assert that the visible universe cannot comprehend the whole works of God, because it had its beginning in time, and will also come to an end. Perhaps, indeed, it forms only an infinitesimal portion of that stupendous whole which is alone entitled to be called THE UNIVERSE.

87. We thus see that the extreme scientific school, as well as the old theological school, have erred in their conclusions, because they have neither of them loyally followed the principle of Continuity. The theologians, regarding (like the antient philosopher) matter and its laws with contempt, have without scruple assumed that frequent invasions of these laws could be consistent with a tenable hypothesis. On the other hand, the extreme scientific school, when they were brought by the principle of Continuity into such a position that their next logical step should have been the realisation of the unseen, failed to take it, and have suffered grievously in consequence.

88. It remains now, before concluding this chapter, to sketch briefly the application of the principle of Continuity to the problem we have in hand.

There are three conceivable suppositions with reference to individual existence after death. It may be regarded as the result of a transference from one grade of being to another in the present visible universe; or secondly, of a transference from the visible universe to some other order of things intimately connected with it; or lastly, we may conceive it to represent the result of a transference from the present visible universe to an order of things entirely unconnected with it.

89. This last hypothesis may however be very speedily disposed of if we are to maintain the principle of Continuity. We have seen that one of the requisites for conscious individual existence is an organ connecting the individual with the past. Now, were we to suppose a transference of living beings from the present visible universe to an order of things otherwise entirely unconnected with it, this would be a manifest breach of the law of Continuity. Imagine the utter confusion into which this present universe would be plunged, if a set of inhabitants were transferred into it having organs connecting them with a past existence in an entirely different universe. A confusion precisely similar would be occasioned by carrying out a transfer according to the hypothesis in question; so that we are able at once to reduce our suppositions to two: the first involving a transference from one grade to another of the visible universe, and the second a transference from the visible universe to some other order of things intimately connected with it.

90. In what precedes, we have argued by anticipation that the present visible universe will become effete; but in the following chapters it will be necessary to maintain this assertion by a minute examination of those laws which represent the course of things observed in the present universe. In other words, we must settle the fitness or unfitness of the present visible universe before we proceed to discuss our second hypothesis.

91. But whether the transfer be supposed to take place in the visible universe, or from it to another intimately connected with it, the subject in either case is certainly one on which we may legitimately employ our reasoning faculties. So far indeed is the subject from being one which it will be utterly and for ever useless to discuss, that it has become our duty as well as our privilege to make the attempt, in the perfect trust that time will inevitably bring truth with it. We think that this fact has been too much overlooked by those whom we may term the moderate school of scientific thinkers. Not denying the possibility of a future state, they have yet shrunk from all attempts to investigate its conditions. We are in hopes that a perusal of this volume will lead these writers to see that the subject is one which may be profitably discussed.