Gospel Philosophy

THE PRESENT AN EARNEST AGE-AN EARNEST RELIGION REQUIRED-YOUNG MEN LIABLE TO SKEPTICISM-LITERARY FOPS-SCIENTISTS DO NOT AGREE-TESTIMONY OF SOCRATES AND PLATO-ABSURDITIES OF BRAHMINISM-ATTEMPTS OF FRENCH INFIDELS-ROSETTA STONE-MODERN SPIRITUALISM.

The gospel is truly a grand system. Let us try to entertain right views concerning it. Let us enlarge our minds to grasp it, that we may, to some extent at least, conceive its greatness and appreciate its beauties.

The peculiar wants of the age in which we live are worthy of deep and careful consideration. Never was there a time in the history of the race, when learning and general intelligence were so well diffused as at the present. The press is throwing off continually its millions of printed pages, which are scattered broadcast as the leaves of Autumn. Books on almost every conceivable subject can be cheaply bought; and journals, magazines and pamphlets, both of a good and evil influence, attract the attention of the young.

Never was there a time of more intense activity. Who can pass through the crowded streets of our cities, listen to the throbbings of the steam-engine, the hum of machinery, the appliances of electricity, gaze at the vast trains that are driven with fire and vapor along our railways, or view those magnificent structures that cross the mighty deep, without feeling that this is an earnest age?

Now, this earnest, active, thinking age demands a religion that has life and power in it. Not a religion of cold formality and narrow sectarianism, but a religion that will satisfy the intellect with its truths, touch the heart with its love, sway the will with its persuasiveness, gratify the taste with its beauties and fill the imagination with its sublimities. A religion is wanted that will enlist upon its side the whole nature of man, and command his willing and devoted homage; a religion that, bearing the full impress of its Author's image, shall carry its own credentials with it; and which, clothed with all the elements of truth and righteousness, beauty and grandeur of love and power, shall be revered by all those who love the truth, and dreaded by all who love it not.

This is the religion that the gospel reveals. There is no antagonism between philosophy and faith, between science and religion, whatever the seeming oppositions of the present; in reality it is perfect harmony. The gospel overwhelms, nay, rather, includes all philosophy.

In the life of many young men there is a period of skepticism. Then the young man is extremely liable to doubt. Then he questions all his previous convictions, challenges all his accepted opinions, and is in danger of drifting aimlessly on the wide tossing sea of unbelief, the sport of every wind of doctrine, the easy prey of every theory conceived by the ingenious brain of man.

At this period his faith in God and man is liable to be swept away through a misconception of the real teachings of science, and the example of those who seek to excuse their wicked lives under the specious plea of unbelief. This period of skeptical tendency comes early in life, frequently when the young man is in college or in the schools of science, when he begins to think and act for himself. It is intelligent, earnest young men of brains and capacity who are in special danger from the skepticism of the age.

Many of these young men have been trained in the Sabbath school, but at nineteen or twenty a change comes over them. They feel the strength and vigor of awakening manhood, and that impatience of authority which is characteristic of young men in this formative period of life. A young man hears of men of learning who reject religion; he reads now and then a magazine full of doubts and insinuations, and he begins to feel that all his belief is simply the result of his education, and that under other circumstances he might have been a Confucian, a Buddhist or a Mahometan. Perhaps he meets with a tolerably educated but skeptical friend, who tells him in effect that religion is a fraud, that the Bible is a very good book, to be sure, but destitute of divine authority. He tells him, in a word, that these things may do for women and children to believe, but as for himself, he has put away all such belief along with his childish toys.

Our young man listens to all this flippant nonsense with itching ears, until, at length, he pretends to believe the world was made by chance, is governed by chance and all things that exist are only the effects of chance.

But there is a comical side to this question, as well as to many others. Prof. Agassiz wisely observes that, "men frequently talk very learnedly of what they know but very little;" and I know of nothing more irresistibly ludicrous than to see one of these so-called scientific skeptics, who scarcely knows the difference between the leg of a wasp and the horn of a beetle, and yet will assume to patronize the Almighty and talk about progress and culture as though he was the most remarkable prodigy of the age in which he lives.

It is enough to disgust an honest man, to see some of these literary fops going along with Darwin's works under one arm and a case of transfixed grasshoppers and butterflies under the other, talking about Huxley's "protoplasm" and "natural selection," and "nebular hypothesis," and "biogensis," and "abigensis," all the while lisping with an "exthquithit lithp," and indicating by word, tone and gesture that all who dissent from their opinions are grossly ignorant and scarcely worthy of their notice.

But the greatest joke is that the scientists which they so much admire do not agree. Darwin is charging at Lamarch, Walace spearing Cope, and Herschel denouncing Ferguson. How many colors in a ray of sun-light? Seven, says Newton; only three, says David Brewster. How high above the earth is the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Light? Two and a half miles, says Prof. Lias; one hundred and sixty-five, says Prof. Tumming. La Place says the moon was not put in the right place, it should have been four times as far away; while Prof. Lionville comes up just in time and gives us the wonderful information (?) that the Creator was acquainted with His business and fixed it exactly right.

How far is the sun from the earth? Less than a million miles, says Zadkiel; seventy-six millions of miles, says La Caille; eighty-two millions, says Humboldt; ninety millions, says Henderson; one hundred and four millions, says Mayer. Only a slight difference of one hundred and three millions of miles, or a good deal farther than a person could travel, at the rate of fifty miles per hour, during the next two centuries, if he could live that long. And yet, amidst all this confusion and contradiction, we are coolly asked to give up the words of inspiration and hang our hopes of the future on the miserable vagaries of self-contradicting philosophers.

Another very ludicrous as well as amusing instance of the folly of infidelity is the fact that skeptics will catch at almost anything upon which to hang their faith. All around us, in every grade of society, are to be found men who will tell us that the Vedas and Shasters of the Hindoos are far more trustworthy than the writings of Moses, Isaiah, Paul, Nephi or Joseph. They will tell us what sublime philosophers Brahma and Confucius were, while, at the same time, they have never read a word of their doctrines, or even seen a volume of their works. All they know is what some other truth-hating infidel has told them.

But for the sake of argument let us glance at some of these wonderful writings. Socrates, one of the greatest of heathen philosophers, admits, "We must of necessity wait till some one from Him, who careth for us, shall come and instruct us how to behave toward God and toward man."

Plato declares, "We cannot know of ourselves what will be pleasing to God; it is necessary that a law-giver should be sent from heaven to instruct us." And he further adds, "Oh, how greatly do I long to see that man!" (Plato's Republic, Book iv and vi.)

Who has not felt sad at the dying words of Socrates, "I am going out of the world and you are to continue in it, but which of us has the better part is a secret to all but God." Nor is the philosophy of India any better. A few years ago, when, through the labors of Oriental scholars, the Vedas and Shasters of the Hindoos were translated and printed in European languages, a great shout went up from the army of infidels. "Here," said they, "is the true chronology. Henceforth the Jewish records must hide their heads." Accordingly the Shasters were, for a time, in high repute among those who knew very little about them.

Now, when we remember that these much-vaunted histories profess to reach back through ma-ha-yugs or epochs of 4,320,000 of our years, that a thousand of these epochs makes a kalpa or one day of the life of Brahma-the nights being of the same duration-and that his life consists of one hundred years of such days and nights, we can easily see the absurdity of these histories. In these works are also the records of the seven great continents of the world, separated by seven rivers and seven chains of mountains, four hundred thousand miles high, and the history of the families of their kings, one of whom had ten thousand sons, another sixty thousand who were born in a pumpkin, nourished in pans of milk, reduced to ashes by the curse of a demon and restored to life by the waters of the Ganges. These records give statements of wonderful eclipses, comets and deluges, seven of which covered the earth, not merely to the top of these wonderfully high mountains, but even reaching to the polar star. Yet infidels have the assurance to quote these as standard works of undoubted authority, and worthy of the credence of intelligent beings. (Duff's India, page 127.)

Nor are the promises of the future life any less absurd than the foregoing. "Tell me," said a wealthy Hindoo, who had given all his wealth to the Brahmins who surrounded his dying bed, that he might obtain a pardon of his sins, "what shall become of my soul when I die?" The priest replied, "Your soul will go into the body of a holy cow." "And after that?" he asked again. "It will pass into the body of a divine peacock." "And after that?" "It will pass into a flower." "Where, O, where will it go last of all?" cried the dying man. "Where will it go last of all? Ah! that is the question."

While British infidels were admiring the sacred writings of the Hindoos, and holding them up before the world as superior to the word of God, French skeptics were busy in a similar employment. When Napoleon invaded Egypt, in 1798, he took with him a large corps of scientific men. In the ceiling of a temple at Dendera, in Upper Egypt, some of these scientists discovered a stone, tablet covered with strange characters. These characters, it was concluded, were a representation of the relative positions of the sun, moon and stars at the time the temple was built; and, calculating backwards, it was found that this could not be less than seventeen thousand years ago. This tablet was taken from the ceiling of the temple and carried away to France, and placed in the national library in Paris. Hundreds of thousands came to see the antediluvian monument, and infidel commentators were never wanting to inform them that this remarkable stone proved the whole Bible to be a series of lies. One of the discoverers, afterwards a professor in the University of Breslau, published a pamphlet, entitled, "Invincible proof that the earth is at least ten times older than is taught by the Bible." During the next thirty years, scores of such publications followed; and the base slander received many additions and improvements, until it was a common saying that this stone proved that "the priests of Egypt were carving astronomy on their pyramids ten thousand years before Adam was born."

It did not shake their credulity in the least, that no two of their wise men were agreed by some thousands of years, how old the stone was-that no one even knew the first principles of the Egyptian system of astronomy, and that none of them could read the hieroglyphics.

But, in 1832, the curious Egyptian astronomy was studied, and it then appeared that this object, which had caused so much commotion, was simply a calendar stone to aid in the measurement of time; and that the positions of the sun, moon and stars were so placed to enable common observers to ascertain the beginning of the year. At length, by means of the Rosetta Stone-which furnished a key to these hieroglyphics-Champolion and others learned to read the inscriptions on Egyptian monuments.

[Rosetta Stone, showing present and original form, and specimens of Greek, Coptic and Hieroglyphic characters.]

The Rosetta Stone was discovered by the French, in 1799, at Rosetta, Egypt. When in a perfect condition it was a tablet of black basalt, three feet high, two feet five inches wide, and ten inches thick. The inscription was in three languages: Coptic, Greek and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. On the publication of the inscriptions it was found that they were the key to the hieroglyphic characters. It was then discovered that the names of Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, were engraved on the stone, as well as the names of the Roman emperors Tiberius, Claudius, Nero and Domitian. The inscriptions revealed the fact that they had no reference to early Egyptian history. The edifice in which the first-mentioned stone was found was simply a heathen Roman temple, built between the fourteenth and eighty-first years of the Christian era. Even at the present time, in the noon-day of modern science and so-called civilization, astrologers, mediums, clairvoyants and fortune-tellers by the hundred find a profitable business among those who consider themselves too learned, wise and progressive to believe in the word of God. One infidel lecturer even advertises that he will reveal to you the secrets of the future and cure you of any disease you may have, if you will only enclose in a letter a few hairs taken from your right temple and-and-a-ten dollar bill. Concerning the future life, infidels have every variety of oracles, conjectures and suppositions; but for their guesses they have no proof. The only thing upon which they seem agreed is in denying the resurrection of the body. According to their ideas, a poor, naked, shivering, table-rapping spirit, obliged to fly over the world at the sigh of any brainless fop or silly, sentimental girl, or the bidding of some brazen-faced strumpet, is all that ever shall exist of all the great and good men and women that have lived upon the earth. To such wild unreason does the mind of man descend when it rejects the gospel, for only through it life and immortality are brought to light. A year or two since, the leader of American infidels, Robert Ingersol, was called to deliver a funeral oration over the body of his brother. In that short discourse there were many beautiful sentiments: but through it all, as through a transparent glass, was shown the need, which even Ingersol felt, of divine revelation and divine guidance.

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SCIENCE AND REVELATION HARMONIZE-WANT OF REVELATION THE CAUSE OF BARBARISM-BENEFITS AND EVILS OF ROMANISM-CONFLICT CONCERNING GEOGRAPHY-PHILOSOPHY OF COSMAS-STRUGGLES OF COPERNICUS-BRUNO -GALILEO-OPPOSITION OF LUTHER-SERVETUS BURNED-PROTESTANT BIGOTRY-CAUSES OF INFIDELITY.

Truth is ever harmonious. Science and religion, in the true sense of the terms, can never be in conflict with each other. The direct revelations of God to man must ever agree with the results of scientific investigation. Invention and discovery are but the unfolding of the laws, attributes and objects of nature to man's finite understanding-the action of the divine will on the minds of men. So, whether man seeks for spiritual truth through the revelations of God, or looks out upon the material world and investigates the working of physical laws, the result must be the same. A truth revealed to the sensitive, impulsive human heart to-day in its full play of emotions and passions cannot be at any real variance with a truth written upon a far-off planet rolling in the depths of space, or upon a fossil whose poor life ebbed away thousands of years ago. Yet, strange to say, a conflict has been going on for years between some students of science on one side and the devotees of religion on the other. Nearly all the great and good men of the medieval or modern times have been engaged on one side or the other, and a hard contest it has been. The war has been waged longer, the battles have been fiercer, the sieges more persistent, the diplomacy more far-reaching, and the revenge more deadly than ever characterized the military campaigns of Alexander, Caesar or Napoleon.

Let us then inquire into the causes of this conflict and try and understand something concerning it. In the first place we must be careful not to underrate science. On every side we see its beneficent effects. The food we eat, the clothes we wear, and the houses we dwell in depend in a great measure upon it for their existence. When we travel it is mostly by the appliances of science. The books we read are manufactured by its aid. It transmits our messages to and from our friends, and prepares the light that illuminates our streets and dwellings. It has contributed greatly to relieve human suffering and promote human happiness, and to distinguish the civilized from the savage races of the earth.

And what has religion done? So long as it was true and pure it was the favored child of heaven. While the true church existed upon the earth, whether Jewish or Christian, we hear of no conflict between its members and the students of science. On the other hand we find from their writings that Moses, Job, David, Solomon and Isaiah were the leading scientists of the ages in which they lived. They understood natural history, architecture, sculpture, poetry, music, botany, and in astronomy they made such progress that many of the constellations still retain the names they used, such as Orion, Pleaides, etc. (See Job xxxviii, 31; Amos v, 8.) We read of no conflict between the truths of science and the teachings of Paul, though he was one of the most learned men of the age in which he lived. On the other hand the discourse of Paul in the court of the Areopagus, was the complement or sequel of ideas already held by the most celebrated Grecian philosophers. (See Acts xvii, 19-23.)

It was not till after the great apostasy, when the voice of inspiration had ceased, that the great conflict commenced between science and the so-called Christian church.

We shall better understand this fact, when we recollect that from the time of the apostles to the ninth century, science, literature and philosophy were well nigh extinct. No schools of painting flourished, no models in sculpture were designed, no order of architecture arose, no great poem was written, and no history compiled, which have been deemed worthy to be transmitted to our times. It was only when European society came largely in contact with Jewish and Saracen influences during the wars of the Crusades and in contact with the Jews and Saracens of Spain, that any decided advances were made. As if to mark out to the world the real cause of its intellectual degradation, the regeneration of Italy commenced with the banishment of the popes to Avignon. Their exile continued more than seventy years; and during their absence, so rapid was the social and intellectual progress that on their return to Rome, they found it impossible to make any successful resistance, or to restore the old condition of society.

Yet even in her apostatized condition the Catholic church did much for the amelioration of society. At the commencement of the fourth century of the Christian era, a cloud of more than Cimmerian darkness overshadowed western Europe. It was then occupied by wandering savages. The period embraced in the next thousand years greatly improved its condition. It was during this period that the population were organized into families, communities and cities. Those centuries found it full of bondmen-they left it without a slave. Where there had been trackless forests, there were now farms, orchards and villages. Instead of bloody chieftains drinking out of their enemies' skulls, there were parish priests teaching the masses the crude beginning of religious thought. Instead of gladiatorial combats, which characterized ancient Roman civilization, there were thoughtful men gravely pondering the problems of free agency and moral responsibility.

Enveloped as she was by the evils of the times, the Catholic church gave rise to many improvements. She taught the doctrine of an ultimate accountability for personal deeds, of which the ancient inhabitants of Europe had very indistinct perceptions. Under her direction the brotherhood of man was taught as it had never been before, and was illustrated, not merely by individual acts of charity, the memory of which is soon forgotten, but also by the establishment of permanent institutions, such as hospitals, alms-houses, schools and asylums for the relief of the afflicted, for the spread of knowledge and the succoring of the oppressed. Many of her high dignitaries, and even popes, were men who had risen from the humbler ranks of society. These men, true to their instincts, were often the champions of right against might. In an age of tyranny, the very organization of the church was essentially republican. It thus paved the way for modern representative governments, and prepared the minds of men for their introduction.

Still it was not over nations and communities that Rome showed her chief power, but in her control of domestic and individual interests. History presents no record like hers. Her pontiffs in the quiet halls of the Vatican could equally take in a hemisphere at a glance or examine the private character of any individual. Was there a rebellion in Spain? Her agents informed her of it. Was there an obscure philosopher in Germany writing down the results of his investigations? She also knew it. While she restrained the power and tyranny of kings by her influence, she also relieved the hungry beggar or wandering minstrel at the monastery gate. In all Europe there was not a man too obscure, too insignificant or too desolate for her. Surrounded by her solemnities every one received his name at her altar, her bells chimed at his marriage and her knell tolled at his funeral. By her confessionals she extorted from him the secrets of his life, and by her penances she punished him for his faults. In the hour of sickness and trouble her servants sought him out, teaching him to place his trust in God, and strengthening him for the trials of life by the example of the good and faithful of former days. And when at length his lifeless body had become an offense, even to his friends, she received it into her consecrated ground, there to rest till the resurrection morning. She raised woman from nearly the condition of a slave and made her the equal and fit companion of man; and in turn, received a recompense by a firm friend in every home. In an age of bloodshed and plunder she lifted up her hand in defense of the weak, and made her sanctuaries a refuge for the despairing and oppressed.

But here arose the difficulty. The so-called Christian church by apostasy had lost the key of revelation. Her decisions depended not upon the voice of inspiration but upon the musty parchments of the past. Claiming to be the church of God, she regarded her decisions as infallible and irrevocable, her teachings as beyond question. Her ideas were crystalized; her philosophy, if indeed it was worthy of that name, was stationary, as must be the case with all systems reposing on a final revelation of God. In the domain of the Catholic church during the space of a thousand years, namely from the time of the apostles to the eleventh century, not a book had been written, not a painting executed, nor statue sculptured of sufficient merit to rescue the name of the author from oblivion. Throughout the length and breadth of Europe there fell a dark cloud of intellectual stagnation, an invisible atmosphere of oppression ready to break down morally and physically whatever opposed its weight; except where a few feeble rays of light were kept flickering by the efforts of Jewish and Mahometan scholars. She at once disclosed her human and denied her divine origin by attempting to force fixed laws on society in the presence of higher truths and advancing civilization.

The first great conflict was in reference to geography-the shape and surface of the earth. When science disclosed the fact that the earth was round, there was a great commotion, and so much the more since it was by Mahometan scholars that the discovery had been made. It was asked, "Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?" In other words, "Is it possible for vile Mahometans to understand and teach such a truth when it is not yet known to the assumed church of God?" At once the war-spirit became fierce and hot. The great writer Eusebius treated the doctrine with contempt. Lactantius asks, "Is there any one so senseless, as to believe that there are men whose footsteps are higher than their heads? That the crops and trees grow downwards? That the rains, snow and hail fall upward to the earth?" (For further particulars see Whewel's Hist. Induct. Sciences, Vol. I, page 196.) At this stage of the controversy, Cosmas Indicopleustes, by direction of the Catholic church, undertook to give a description of the earth. According to Cosmas, the universe is in the form of an immense box, twice as broad as it is high and twice as long as it is broad. At the bottom of this box lies the earth, surrounded by four great seas or oceans. At the outer edges of these seas, rise immense walls, which support the vault of heaven, even as the walls of a house support the roof; and thus walls and vault shut in the earth and all the heavenly bodies. This vast box he divides into two compartments or stories. In the lower one men were said to live, and sun, moon and stars to move. The upper one was said to be the abode of God and angels, whose principal work was to push and pull the sun and planets to and fro, and to open the windows of heaven, and thus regulate the quantity of rain.

The ignorance or impudence of Cosmas can only be partially imagined, when we recollect that he supported his theory by reference to the Bible, and quoted Genesis i, 6; Job xxvi, 11; Psalms cxlviii, 4; Isaiah xl, 22. All the sublime poetry and beautiful imagery of these texts were thus debased to give credence to the wild vagaries of this ignorant man.

Space will not permit us to follow this contest in all its phases: suffice it to say that so late as the fourteenth century Cecco d' Ascoli was burned alive for asserting his belief in the rotundity of the earth. (See Neander's History of the Christian Church, Vol. II, page 63.) The student of history will also remember how Columbus at the great council of Salamanca was overwhelmed by texts of scripture wrested from their rightful meaning. It was only after the successful navigation of the earth, by Magellan's ship, the San Vittoria, that Rome ceased to persecute the adherents of this doctrine. In all this contest Rome's dogmas only resulted in injury to herself. The authority of the scriptures was not in the end weakened, but rather strengthened; but to thinking men, Rome's claim of divine right to interpret the scriptures was of little value. Rome had been "weighed in the balances and found wanting."

It was therefore in a scientific not less than a religious point of view that many leading minds looked with favor toward that great religious, movement known as the Reformation.

While Luther, Calvin and Zwingle were busy denouncing the corruptions of the Romish church, the forces were preparing for the second great conflict between science and so-called religion, namely, that concerning the motion of the earth. Copernicus lived at the same time as Luther, and died two years before him. His was as brave a life as ever lived in story. For thirty-six years, at the very time the Protestant struggle was raging, he was working at that immortal book, De Revolutionibus Orbum, in which he so clearly demonstrates the motion of the earth, and the revolution of the planets around the sun. But he dared not print it for many years. If he published it at Rome, it would fall into the hands of the Inquisition; if he caused it to be printed in Germany, there were the Protestant leaders no less hostile; if he sent it to Switzerland, there stood Calvin and Zwingle ready to burn it. At length the work was ready for the press. By the entreaty of the Romish Cardinal Schomberg, and with many apologies, Copernicus ventured to publish it. He was now old and feeble. Patiently he waited at death's door to see a printed copy. At length the long looked-for copy arrived, he saw it, composed himself and died, 1543.

Seven years after the death of Copernicus, was born that strange mortal, Giordano Bruno. For teaching the rotation of the earth he had to flee to Switzerland. But Calvin held power there and Bruno was soon obliged to leave. Driven in succession from England, France and Germany, and, like Noah's dove, finding no rest for the sole of his foot, he at length ventured to return to Italy. He was arrested in Venice, and after eight years of solitary confinement, was burned at Rome, February 16, 1600. When the atrocious sentence was passed upon him, he nobly replied, "Perhaps it is with greater fear that ye pass this sentence upon me than I receive it."

Meanwhile Galileo was prosecuting his studies at Florence. In May, 1609, he made his first telescope and pointing it toward the heavens saw the satellites of Jupiter and the phases of Venus. These were two of the weightiest arguments that had as yet been presented in favor of the Copernican theory. Already Galileo began to encounter vulgar indignation which accused him of impiety. In 1611, Galileo publicly exhibited the spots upon the sun. This only excited the rage of his persecutors. Goaded by opposition he wrote a letter, in 1613, to the Abbe Castelli, showing that the scriptures were given for our salvation, and not to teach astronomy in particular. This was repeating Bruno's offense. Galileo was brought before the Inquisition, and, after years of imprisonment, only saved his life by denying the great truths he had discovered. He died 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age, the prisoner of the Inquisition. But religious bigotry did not end there. It tried to follow him beyond the grave, disputing his right to make a will and denying him burial in consecrated ground. Nor were the leaders of the Protestant cause less bitter.

In reference to Copernicus, Luther declared, "People give ear to an upstart astrologer, who strives to show that the earth revolves;" and again, "This fool (Copernicus) wishes to reverse the whole system of astronomy." Melancthon, in his treatise Initia Doctrinea Physicae, says, "The eyes are the witnesses that the heavens revolve about the earth in the space of twenty-four hours," and adds, "Now it is a want of decency to assert publicly the notions of Copernicus;" and Zwingle declares, "The earth can be no where, if not in the center of the universe. It is a part of a good mind to accept the truth as revealed by God, and acquiesce in it." (See Geschichte des Materialismus, Vol. I, page 217.)

[BURNING OF SERVETUS.]

Further, Calvin proved the darkness of his own mind when he put to death that celebrated philosopher and physician, Michael Servetus, whose greatest crimes were that in religion he denied the absurd dogma that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are three separate and distinct beings and yet one and the same person; and in science he had partially succeeded in discovering the circulation of blood. The circumstances were also of the most atrocious character. Servetus was roasted for two hours in the flames of a slow fire made of green wood. Meanwhile he was begging for the love of God that they would put on more wood or do something to end his torture.

So also in superstition the Protestants were not a whit behind the Catholics. In presence of the Protestant king, James I., of England, it was declared that Agnes Sampson with two hundred other witches had sailed in sieves from Leith to North Betwick church to hold a banquet with the devil. It was also said that the witches had baptized and then drowned a black cat, which caused a terrible storm in which the ship that carried the king narrowly escaped being wrecked. King James and the high church dignitaries who formed his privy council, believed the accusation and condemned the poor woman to the flames.

The leaders of German Protestantism were Luther and Melancthon, yet even they were victims of the grossest superstition. They believed that in the Tiber, not far distant from the pope's palace, a monster had been found having the body of a man, the head of an ass and the claws of a bird of prey. After much speculation and searching of their Bibles, they concluded it was a manifestation of God's anger against Rome, and they wrote a pamphlet about it. (See Buckle's Hist. of Civilization.)

It is a quite common error to suppose these persecutions to have emanated from the papal power exclusively. When we read of Copernicus escaping persecution only by death, of Bruno, burned alive as a monster of impiety, of Galileo imprisoned and humiliated as the worst of misbelievers we are apt to look upon these things as the effect of Romish intolerance. But we should not forget that Kepler who stands pre-eminently conspicuous, who lead science on to greater victories than either Copernicus or Galileo, who thought and spake as one inspired-even he was hunted alike by Protestant and Catholic. Nor was this feeling of intolerance confined to any particular age. On the contrary we behold its continuance even to our own times. In Protestant England so late as 1772, the celebrated Dr. Priestly was not permitted to accompany the famous expedition for scientific discovery under Captain Cook, because he did not believe in the doctrine of the Trinity as taught by the Church of England.

On the 10th of May, 1859, was buried Alexander Von Humboldt. His labors were among the greatest glories of this century, and his funeral one of the most imposing of modern times. Among those who did themselves the honor of following his remains to their last resting-place was the present emperor of Germany. But no minister of any sect was present except the officiating clergyman and a few others who were considered as not in good standing in their respective churches. By these instances and many others it might be shown how has been wrought into the very fibre of modern society that pernicious idea that there is a necessary antagonism between science and religion.

The lessons thus taught were clear and convincing. Many intelligent minds saw that Protestants as well as Catholics lacked not merely the charitable spirit of the gospel, but likewise that knowledge and authority, which are the certain results of divine revelation. The result was soon apparent. A violent reaction followed. Germany, the birthplace of the Reformation, is now the stronghold of infidelity.

And why was this? What was it that made large numbers of the best men in Europe hate both the Catholic and Protestant religions? Why did Ricetto, Bruno and Servetus in the hour of martyrdom turn with loathing from that sacred emblem, the crucifix? The reason was simply this: So-called Christianity had been made to them identical with the most horrible oppression of mind, because they who had assumed to represent Christianity had misrepresented it. In other words, the absurd theories, rigid dogmas and heathenish superstitions of apostate Christianity bore no more resemblance to the benign and heavenly principles of the gospel, than an ancient Egyptian mummy, with its shrunken skeleton and ghostly visage, bears to the person of a living being in the meridian of his mental and physical powers. (See appendix to Vol. IV. Histoire des Mathematiques.)

Did space permit it would be easy to show that the Protestant sects have opposed scientific truth as bitterly, and been overthrown as completely as Rome has ever been. Not merely in the examples of geography and astronomy, but also in chemistry and natural philosophy, as shown in the imprisonment of Roger Bacon and John Barillon; in anatomy and surgery as illustrated in the persecutions against Versalius, the great anatomist of the sixteenth century. Nor was it merely in the olden times that this opposition was manifest. Scarcely eighty years have passed since Jenner, the discoverer of vaccination, barely escaped with his life from the persecutions of leading religionists in Protestant England, for conferring upon mankind the knowledge of prevention of a horrible disease. So, also, in 1847, James Y. Simpson, the eminent Scotch physician, who did so much to alleviate human suffering by means of anaesthetics, was denounced throughout Europe and America by the leading Protestant ministers. The persecutors seemed to forget that, in the first surgical operation of which we have record, God caused a deep sleep to fall on Adam. (See Genesis ii., 21.)

So, also, in geology, scarcely forty years have elapsed since both Protestant and Catholic leaders were denouncing that science as a "dark art," "infernal artillery," and "an awful evasion of the testimony of revelation." While such honored names as Prof. Sedwick, Edward Hitchcock, Louis Agassiz and Mary Somerville were denounced coarsely by name for those studies which unfold the wonders of creation, and illustrate the goodness of our Heavenly Father-studies that have made their names honored throughout the world. (See Silliman's Journal. Vol. 30, page 114.)

And what has been the result of all this? In the older nations have come forth, by natural reaction, the most formidable enemies the so-called Christian church has ever known. Of these Voltaire and Renan may be considered types, and there are many signs that the same causes are producing similar results in our own country. Yet Renan, Bennet and Ingersol are not haters of truth. Rather may it be said, they hate counterfeits and are indignant at the assumptions of apostate Christendom. In their impetuosity they have rushed into the other extreme, and demand for science more than she can rightly claim.

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IGNORANCE OF SKEPTICS-ERRORS IN ASTRONOMY GEOLOGY NOT RELIABLE-SCIENTISTS DISAGREE-TESTIMONIES OF HUGH MILLER-HUMBOLDT -LYELL-SECOND-HAND KNOWLEDGE-OUR NEED OF FAITH.

"A little or superficial knowledge may incline a man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth him back to religion." So said Francis Bacon, one of the world's greatest philosophers, and history has proved his saying to be true. The great lights of the scientific world, such as Columbus, Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton, Herschel, Agassiz, Rosse or Proctor, all have cherished a reverence for religion. On the other hand, it is generally third or fourth rate men of learning, or those whose impetuosity is greater than their judgment, who ever attempt to achieve distinction as infidel lecturers. Men who have failed in their business for want of capacity, frequently turn misanthropes and denounce truths and men that they have not brains enough to comprehend. True, apostate Christianity has been "weighed in the balances and found wanting," but does that prove that there is no vital, no divine religion that will satisfy the intellect of man with its truths, and touch the heart with its love-a Christianity which, bearing the full impress of its Author's image, shall take its place among the various forces at work in society and eventually subordinate them all? Nay, verily! As well might we say that because there are counterfeit bank bills in existence, therefore, none are genuine.

One cannot help being amazed at the cool impudence with which infidels take for granted the very points to be proved, and set aside, as unworthy of serious examination, the most authentic records of history and facts of science. When skeptics, who are determined not to believe in the Bible, find the historical evidences of its genuineness, authority and inspiration impossible to be overthrown by ridicule or sophistry, they turn their attention to some other mode of attack; and, of late years, they have ransacked the whole circle of sciences hoping to find a more powerful weapon. Especially has every new discovery been hailed by skeptics as an ally to their cause, until further acquaintance has proved that it was not so. Thus, when geology began to upheave its titanic form it was eagerly greeted by skeptics; but now that they have discovered the proofs it gives of a Creator they are getting shy of its acquaintance.

It is, therefore, worth while to enquire, is science really so positive as these persons pretend? Or, is it true that the students of the physical sciences have no certain knowledge of their theories? We need not here speak of the disputes between Herschel and Ferguson, Newton and Brewster, La Place and Lionville. Rather let us begin with the most positive of all sciences. Mathematics-the science of magnitude and numbers-and note a few things concerning it. Upon reflection, it is surprising how few subjects are capable of a mathematical demonstration.

The mathematician may demonstrate the size and properties of a triangle, but he cannot demonstrate the continuance of any actual triangle for one hour, or one minute after his demonstration.

A mathematical proof admits of no doubts or contingencies. A man may calculate the force of the wind, but he cannot tell how long it will continue to blow in that direction, whether it will increase to a hurricane or subside to a calm. He may count the revolutions of an engine, but he cannot test its extreme power, or prove its continued existence for a single hour. How many of the most important affairs of life can be demonstrated by means of the multiplication table? It would be safe to say not one in ten. Again, mathematics frequently deal with purely ideal figures, which never did or never can exist. There is not a mathematical line-length without breadth-in all the universe. On careful examination, we find that there are no mathematical figures in nature. We speak of the earth as a sphere, but it is a sphere pitted with hollows as deep as the ocean, and crested with protuberances as high as the Andes or Himalayas, in every conceivable irregularity of form. There is not an acre of absolutely level ground on the face of the earth; even its waters pile themselves up in waves, or dash into breakers, rather than remain perfectly level for a single hour. The microscope reveals the fact that the pearl is proportionally rougher than the surface of the earth, and the dew-drop is no nearer round than a pear. When we speak of the orbits of the planets as elliptical or circular, it is only in a general way; just as we speak of a circular saw, the outline of its teeth being regularity itself, as compared with the motions of the planets in their orbits.

So also with Astronomy, it is far from being an exact science. From the comparative simplicity of the forces with which it has to deal, and the approximate regularity of the paths of the heavenly bodies, it may be regarded as the science in which the greatest possible certainty is attainable. It opens, at once, the widest field to the imagination, and the noblest range to the reason; it has attracted the most exalted intellects to its pursuit, and has rewarded their toils with the grandest discoveries. Lest we should ascribe to the discoverers of the laws of the universe, the glory due to their Creator, let us glance at some of the errors of astronomy.

Sir John Herschel, than whom none has a better right to speak on this subject, devotes a chapter to the "Errors of Astronomy."

"No philosophical observation or experiment is absolutely accurate. The error of a thousandth part of an inch in an instrument, will multiply itself into thousands and millions of miles according to the distance of the object."

To begin at our own little globe, where exactness is more easily attained, than among distant planets, we find that two of the greatest astronomers, Bessel and Newton, differ from each other in the measurement of the diameter of the earth fully eleven miles. So also the diameter of the earth's orbit is uncertain by 360,000 miles. Now the diameter of the earth, and the diameter of its orbit are the very foot rule and yard stick, as it were, by which astronomers measure the heavens. (See Humboldt's Cosmos, Vol, I. page 7, and Vol. IV. page 477.)

"Let us then be candid," says Loomis, "and claim no more for astronomy than is reasonably due. When in 1846 the great astronomer Le Verrier announced the existence of a planet hitherto unseen, and when he assigned to it its exact position in the heavens, and declared that it shone like a star of the eighth magnitude, not an astronomer of France, and scarcely one in Europe had sufficient faith in the prediction to prompt him to point his telescope to the heavens."

So also geology, one of the most recent of the sciences, and in the hands of infidel nurses one of the most noisy, has been found to be unreliable in many particulars. True a wonderful outcry has been raised about the antagonism between the records of the rocks, and the records of the Bible. But no one has yet succeeded in proving such an antagonism; for the plain reason that neither the Bible nor geology says how old the earth is. They both say it is very old. The Bible says, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." The term here translated "in the beginning" signifies, as every Hebrew scholar knows, a period of such remote antiquity, that in Bible language it stands next to eternity. Now if the geologist could prove that the earth is a thousand million years older than the time when Adam appeared upon it, this would contradict no statement of the Bible. So when infidels come to us with their geological theories about the manner in which God made the earth, or in which the earth is said to have made itself, and how long it took to do it, and tell us that they have scientific demonstration from the rocks that the Bible is false, we surely have a right to enquire into the foundation of these theories upon which they have built such startling conclusions. Now it is remarkable that every infidel argument is based not upon the facts, but upon the theories of geology. But how does our infidel geologist set about his work of proving that the earth has any given age, say a thousand million years? Why he simply commences with a theory or supposition. Yet a demonstration must rest upon facts, it admits of no suppositions. In examining the crust of the earth we find a great many layers of rocks, one above the other, evidently formed below the water, some of them out of the fragments of former rocks containing bones, shells and casts of fishes and tracks of the feet of birds, made when these rocks were in the state of soft mud. These layers form what is termed the crust of the earth, and are altogether several miles in thickness. Yet not one of these layers gives us the element of time. They announce to us successive generations of animals and plants; but they do not tell us how long these generations lived. We have every reason to believe that the condition of the world was very different then, from what it is now; not only as regards its temperature, of which we have many proofs that it was much higher than at present; but likewise in regard to the density of the atmosphere and the distribution of water on the surface of the globe. All these conditions indicate that both animal and vegetable life were then far different from what they are now, as the fossil remains of those animals and plants abundantly and unquestionably prove. But in all this we have no means of determining the duration of those species. The various species of plants and animals may have flourished during a period of a thousand, a million, or a thousand million years for all we know.

Here is a problem exactly similar. On examination we find that a certain house is built on a foundation of well-cemented concrete three feet deep, that it has ten courses of stone in the basement, forty courses of brick in the first story, thirty-six courses in the second, thirty-two in the third; with a roof of nine inch rafters, covered with inch boards, and an inch and a half layer of coal-tar and gravel; now tell us how long was the house in building? Why the very school-boy would laugh at the absurdity of such a question. He would say, "How can I tell unless I know where the materials were obtained, how they were conveyed, how many workmen were employed, and how much they could do in a day? If the rock had been brought from a distance, the brick to be made by hand, the lumber all dressed with a handsaw and jackplane, and all the work done by a slowgoing jobbing contractor who employed only three or four men-why, they would not get through in a year. But if the rock was found in excavating the cellar, if the brick were made by machinery and near at hand, the lumber dressed by steam saw and planing mills, and thirty or forty workmen employed, it might be all finished in a month."

So the geologist ought to say, "I do not know either the source of the materials of the earth's strata nor the distance from which they were conveyed to their present position, nor the forces which were employed in changing them from their primitive elements to the forms in which we now see them; therefore I cannot tell the time required for their formation. If the crust of the earth was originally fused into granite by intense heat, and this granite has been thrown up into vast mountains by the internal heat of the earth; and in turn, these mountains have been slowly worn away, by the action of wind, rain and frost, and conveyed down to the shores of the primeval ocean, by the still slower agency of mountain torrents and rivers; and if these deposits having first been the home of various species of animals and plants have hardened into rock which in turn has been heaved up by volcanic forces-if this was the mode of creation, hundreds of millions of years may have been required to produce the effects we now see upon the surface of the globe.

"But if the crust of the earth originally consisted of the various elements of which granite and other rocks are composed, if (as is generally conceded, granite is the lowest in the scale of all the rocks with which man is acquainted,) the granite was fused into its present condition by the intense heat generated by the chemical action of these elements upon each other, and if the overlying strata were consolidated by the vast pressure of a universal ocean, as is generally conceded to have covered the earth at a certain geologic period, and if these rocks were baked by their own chemical heat or by the continuous heat of the underlying granite, while the cooler temperature of the water above prevented the upper strata from becoming so solid-then, under such circumstances, a very few centuries might suffice." (See Lyell's Principles of Geology, chapters 12 and 32.)

Until these indispensable preliminaries are settled, geology can make no calculations of the length of time occupied by the formation of the strata.

Again, all geological computations of time are made upon the supposition that only the same agents were then at work which we now see, that they wrought with the same degree of force and produced the same results though working under widely different conditions. For example, suppose it now takes a year to deposit mud enough at the bottom of the sea, to make an inch of rocks, and if mud was deposited no faster in those remote ages, then the rocks would be as old as there are inches in the eight or nine miles depth to which the strata extends. But how can we prove that mud was deposited at the same rate then as now? And so the whole fabric of geological chronology vanishes into a mere unproved notion, based upon an if.

It is truly astonishing that any sober-minded person should allow himself to be shaken in his religious convictions by the alleged results of a science so unformed and imperfect, as geologists themselves acknowledge their favorite science to be. Thus Hugh Miller admits, "There are no calculations more doubtful than those of the geologist;" and again, "It furnishes us with no certain clue by which to unravel the unapproachable mysteries of creation." (See Footprints of the Creator, page 313.)

These mysteries belong to the wondrous Creator, and to Him only. Men attempt to theorize upon them, and to reduce them to law; but all nature rises up against them in their presumptuous rebellion. A stray splinter of cone-bearing wood, a fish's skull, the skeleton of a reptile, the tooth or jaw of a quadruped, all or any of these things- weak and insignificant as they may seem-when found imbedded in the strata of the rocks, become evidence too strong for man and all his theories. These puny fragments in the grasp of truth become weapons as irresistible as the dry bone in the hand of Sampson of old; and our slaughtered theories lie piled up heaps upon heaps before them.

Then, again, they are quarreling about the leading principles of the science. Hopkins attempts to prove that the crust of the earth is eight hundred miles thick, while Humboldt asserts that it is less than twenty-four. As the temperature increases one degree for every forty-five feet we descend into the earth, so, at that rate, in less than twenty-four miles the heat would be so great as to melt iron and almost any known substance. But here, again, they differ. Wedgewood declares that iron melts at 21,000 degrees Fahrenheit; while Professor Daniels is positive that it melts at 2,786 degrees, Fahrenheit. Only a slight difference of 18,214 degrees.

But then comes the great question: if granite is the lowest layer in the strata, what is below the granite? De Beaumont affirms that "the whole globe, with the exception of a thin envelope-much thinner in proportion than the shell of an egg-is a melted mass kept fluid by heat, but constantly cooling and contracting its dimensions and occasionally cracking and falling in, and squeezing upwards large portions of the mass, thus producing those folds or wrinkles which we call mountain chains." On the other hand, Davy and Lyell think that "we may perhaps refer the heat of the interior to chemical changes going on in the earth's crust." So much for the uncertainties of geology.

If space permitted, it would be easy to go over other sciences and show similar uncertainties in them all. It is worthy of notice that the uncertainties of science increase just in proportion to our interest in it. About what does not concern us, it is very positive; but very uncertain about our dearest interests. The astronomer may calculate with considerable certainty the movements of distant planets with which we have no intercourse; but he cannot predict the heat or cold, clouds or sunshine, and other phenomena continually occurring on our earth. The forces of heat may be measured, to some extent, but what physician can measure the strength of the malignant fever that is destroying the life of his patient. The chemist can thoroughly analyze any foreign substance, but the disease of his own body, which is bringing him to the grave, he can neither weigh, measure nor remove. Science is very positive about distant stars and remote ages, but stammers and hesitates about the very lives of its professors.

If such are the uncertainties of science to the actual investigators, what shall we say to him who has learned his science at school? When we meet with such an infidel, who denounces religion while he extols the certainties of science, would it not be well to ask a few questions such as the following? Have you personally measured the diameter of the earth, observed the transit of Venus, or calculated the distance of the moon? Or, further, would you feel yourself competent to perform such labor; or is it possible that, after all your boasting, you have taken your science at second-hand, and on the testimony of another? Again, perhaps you are a student of the stone book (as scientists sometimes call the strata of the earth's crust), with its enduring records graven in the rock forever; and perhaps you profess to believe that under these ponderous strata the Bible has found an everlasting tomb! But how many of the volumes of this stone book have you perused personally! Have you ever visited the many localities in our own country, to say nothing of the instructive lessons to be learned from the strata of England, Scotland, Wales, the Himalayas, the Andes and the Lauretian rocks of Canada, where the different formations are to be seen? Have you personally excavated from their beds, the various fossils that form, as it were, the very alphabet of the science; or, is it possible that all you know of geology is from the specimens of collectors, and the statements of lecturers aided by maps of ideal stratification in rose-pink, brimstone-yellow and indigo-blue?

But perhaps you are a chemist, and proud, as most chemists are, of the accuracy attainable in that most demonstrative science. But how much of it is really science to you? Of the nine hundred and forty-two substances mentioned in Turner's Chemistry, how many have you analyzed? Could you truthfully say one-half, one-fourth, or even one-tenth? Much less, would you face the laughter of a college class, to-morrow, upon the experiment of taking nine out of the nine hundred, reducing them to their primitive elements, and giving an accurate analysis of their component parts?

In fact, do you know anything worth mentioning of the facts of science upon your own knowledge, except those of the trade by which you make your living? Or, after all your boasting about scientific certainty, is it true that you have been obliged to receive your science upon faith, at second-hand, and on the word of another, and to save your life you could not tell who that other is, or even name the discoverers of half the scientific truths you believe? Therefore, whatever precision may be attained by scientific men-and we have seen that it is not much-it is very certain you have none of it. The very best you can have to wrap yourself in is a second-hand assurance, grievously torn by rival schools, and needing to be patched every month by later discoveries.

But this is not all. Most sciences are not only uncertain, but also insufficient. We demand the knowledge of truths of which science is profoundly ignorant. Of all the great problems and precious interests which belong to me as a mortal or immortal being, science knows nothing. I ask her whence I came. She points to her pinions stretched over the abyss of primeval fire, her eyes blinded by its awful glare, and remains silent. I inquire what I am; but the strange and questioning I is a mystery which she can neither analyze nor measure. I tell her of the voice of conscience within-she never heard it and does not pretend to understand it. I tell her of my anxieties about the future-she is learned only in the past. I inquire how I may be happy hereafter-but happiness is not a scientific term, and she cannot even tell me how to be happy here! Poor, blind science!

Further still, all our dearest interests lie beyond the domains of physical science, in the regions of faith. Science treats of things-faith is confidence in persons. Take away the persons and of what value are the things? The world becomes at once a vast desert, a dreary solitude. I can live, and love, and be happy without science; but not without companionship whose bond is faith. In its sunshine alone can happiness grow. It is faith sends man out in the morning to his work, nerves his arms through the toils of the day, brings him home in the evening, gathers the children around the table, inspires the oft-repeated efforts of the little prattler to ascend his parent's knee, clasps the chubby arms around his neck, looks with the most confiding innocence into his eye and puts forth the little hand to catch his bread and share his cup. Undoubting faith is happiness even here below. Need we marvel, then, that man must be converted from his pride of empty, barren science, and casting himself with all his powers into the arms of faith, become as a little child before he can enter into the kingdom of heaven?

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