University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
ARGUMENT FROM GENERAL PLAN.

IT has been my object in the previous chapters of this work to develop before you the great argument of Natural Theology as it is presented by the atmosphere. I have endeavored to show that there is abundant evidence of design, even in the properties of the chemical elements, and hence that the argument rests upon a basis which no present theories of development can shake. Having dwelt upon the argument from special adaptations at as great length as my plan will permit, I wish in this chapter to present another class of evidences of the Divine attributes, which, although less conspicuous, may be even more impressive to some minds than those we have studied. The indications of an Infinite Intelligence are not only to be found in the adaptations of nature, but they also appear in the grand laws by which the whole material universe is directed.

I am well aware that the laws of nature, so far from being regarded as evidences of the existence of a beneficent God, are felt by many minds to be actual hinderances to their faith. They are thought to give to the whole scheme of nature a mechanical

aspect, and to be inconsistent with belief in a superintending Providence. I also know that there are many scientific men who regard the laws of nature as the manifestation of blind physical forces, and who recognize a Providence, if at all, only in the very few recorded instances where the normal action of these forces has been averted by a special miraculous interposition. But even admitting this philosophy, still I think it will appear that these laws bear so conspicuously the marks of Intelligence, and are so analogous to the results of human thought, that we cannot resist the conclusion that they were originally, at least, ordained by an intelligent Creator, or, in other words, that the laws of nature are the thoughts of God. For myself, I regard the laws of nature as the most direct evidence possible of Infinite wisdom, and it will be my object to show that this opinion is sustained by the strongest analogies.

Regarded from a scientific point of view, physical laws are merely our human expressions of that order which we discover in the material universe. In its highest form, the law is capable of a precise quantitative statement, and gives the basis for mathematical calculation and prediction. Thus the law of gravitation enables the astronomer to calculate what will be the position of the bodies of the solar system at any future epoch, and to predict, almost to the very second, the exact time when an eclipse will begin, and what will be the precise path of its shadow over the earth. The greater part of the laws of nature do not, however, admit of precise

mathematical statement, and are merely the expressions of the order which has been observed in the phenomena of nature, whether in respect to form, in respect to number, or in any other particular. It is convenient to distinguish these merely phenomenal laws from the higher class, which are usually called dynamical; but the distinction is an artificial one, for it is probable, at least, that in all cases the phenomenal laws are merely the phases of some higher dynamical law not yet discovered. Moreover, if we believe that all phenomena are direct manifestations of the Divine Will, then there is no law apart from God. His action is not necessitated or prescribed by any conditions, even although imposed by Himself. He is constantly acting in nature, consciously and freely; but He acts uniformly, consistently, and with a plan, because He is omniscient and omnipotent. Man acts with inconstancy, because he is a finite being, and must be guided by probabilities; but with God, who seeth the end from the beginning, there is no "variableness, neither shadow of turning.''

The whole material universe may then be regarded as the manifestation of one grand comprehensive creative thought, which God is slowly working out in nature. To study this thought in all its details is the prerogative of man, and this study has been the appointed means of cultivating his intellect and elevating his condition. From time to time the more gifted students have caught glimpses of parts of the grand thought, and these glimpses we call laws; but even the law of gravitation, the most per-

fect of all, is felt to be but a partial truth, and we look confidently for the discovery of a wider law which will comprehend Newton's great discovery as one only of its manifestations. Let us now, in order to elucidate and confirm this simple doctrine, compare some of the laws of nature with the results of human thought, and, whatever may be our theory of causation, we cannot but be impressed with the striking analogy between the two.

The idea of symmetry is inherent in every human mind. It may be more or less cultivated by experience, but the germs of the idea are found even in the savage. However rude his condition, man is pleased with a symmetrical disposition of objects, and his taste is offended when the laws of symmetry are grossly violated, although he may have no name for the idea. Corresponding with this idea in our minds, we find symmetry everywhere in nature. The parts of an animal are symmetrically arranged around the body, and the leaves of a plant are symmetrically disposed around the stem, but nowhere in nature is the idea of symmetry so fully developed as in the mineral kingdom.

Almost every solid substance, when slowly deposited from a liquid or aeriform condition, assumes a definite symmetrical shape which is peculiar to the substance. These symmetrical forms are called crystals, and the process by which they are obtained is called crystallization. Freedom of motion —such as the particles of matter have in the fluid state—is an essential condition of crystallization. Moreover, as the substance becomes solid, the par-

ticles must have sufficient time to arrange themselves in accordance with the tendency of the molecular forces, and the longer the time occupied in the process of crystallization, the more perfect we find the crystals. The crystal represents the natural condition of a substance, and the peculiar form is the most essential and characteristic of all its properties.

Crystals are always polyhedrons, that is, solids bounded by plane faces. Assuming this fact of observation, geometry teaches that the relative positions of the faces of a crystal may be defined by means of three straight lines not all in one plane, but crossing each other at a single point. These lines are called axes, and the common point is called their origin. Now, we can easily conceive of all the possible ways in which three such lines can be arranged, and although the number of possible variations is evidently infinite, yet they can all be classified under a few categories. Again, taking in turn each of these systems of axes, as they are called, we can readily arrange planes symmetrically around the three lines selected for reference, and thus by a process of pure thought, with no other guide than the idea of symmetry as it exists in our minds, we can develop the corresponding geometrical forms, and it is these forms, and these alone, which we find on actual crystals. Moreover, the systems of possible axes correspond to the families under which these crystals are naturally classified.

In the first edition of this book, I attempted to illustrate the truth we are discussing by showing

how the forms of what in crystallography is called the regular system, may be developed by arranging planes symmetrically around a system of axes consisting of three lines of equal length at right angles to each other; but, as a consequence of the attempt to popularize the subject, the illustration was necessarily imperfect, and it became evident that the conceptions involved could only be made intelligible to those who already had some knowledge of crystallography. I shall therefore, in the present volume, leave to the student the task of investigating the details, and simply make the following general statements. Crystals may be studied from two points of view: first, as products of pure thought, like the solids of geometry; secondly, as objects of natural history; and the specimens found in nature correspond, as far as they have been observed, to the deductions of geometry. Furthermore, the lines which we use in constructing mentally the theoretical forms are directions which in the actual crystals are distinguished by well defined physical relations.

The products of Nature's laboratory correspond, then, exactly to the results of our own thoughts; and how can we resist the conclusion that they are the manifestations of the thoughts of an intelligent Creator? In the language of science, the crystal is said to obey the law of symmetry; but obviously this law is merely the reflection of the same simple idea which exists in our own minds, and which must have previously existed in the mind of God. The whole science of crystallography is a development of this idea of symmetry. Like geometry, it is a

product of pure thought, and its truths are entirely independent of their material forms. Indeed, the mineral kingdom, so far as it is known, does not perfectly represent the idea of symmetry, even as it exists in the human mind. There are possible forms which have never been obtained in nature, and the science, even as we know it, could never have been developed by observation alone.

By following out the simple idea of symmetry, which is common to all men, we have found that the results of our own thought perfectly agree with the facts of nature. Let us now take another of the primary ideas which exist in the human mind, and see how fully that is realized in the material creation. The idea of number is as inherent in the mind as that of symmetry. I shall not attempt to discuss its origin or trace its development; but assuming, as all will admit, that the results of human skill constantly exhibit simple numerical relations, let us inquire whether the same characteristic may not be discovered in nature.

We have already referred to the well-known principle that the position of a plane may be fixed by means of three straight lines or axes crossing at a common point called the origin. If the plane is sufficiently extended it must, of course, cross each of the three axes either at a finite or at an infinite distance from the origin, and if these distances, which we call "parameters,'' are measured or calculated, the position of the plane is defined. Again, on the crystals of many substances—for example on those of the well-known minerals quartz, calcite, and barite—we find a

great number of different planes, which, if not on any single crystal, have all been seen on the different crystals of the substance that have been examined. If, now, each of these planes is defined by its parameters, it appears, on comparing the parameters measured on a given axis, that, for crystals of the same substance, the parameters of all the planes are simple numerical multiples of each other. When a plane is parallel to an axis, the parameter on this axis is of course infinity, and this is the most commonly occurring case.

As an illustration of the law we are considering, we may take the crystals of barite—the mineralogical name of the chemical compound called baric sulphate. One of the most commonly occurring planes on the crystals of this substance has parameters which, when measured on the lines usually selected as axes, have the relative values a: b: c = 1.6107: 1: 1.2276. There have been observed on crystals of barite no less than thirty-four different planes, and in every case the parameters of these planes conform to the expression a1: b1: c1 = m x 1.6107: n x 1: p x 1.2276, in which m, n, and p are either simple whole numbers, or else infinity. Thus we have for m, n, and p such values as i22; 23i; 112; 326; 142, etc., and similar facts are true of the crystals of any other substance. Indeed this law of simple numerical ratios is the fundamental law of crystallography, and gives to the science a mathematical basis.

Similar numerical relations appear when we study the formation of chemical compounds. I have already defined a chemical element as a substance which has never as yet been decomposed, and all

the matter with which man is now acquainted is composed of one or more of at most seventy elementary substances. When two of these elements unite together to form a compound body, the proportions in which they combine are not decided by chance. You cannot unite these elementary substances in any proportion you please. The proportion in each case is determined by an unvarying law, and the amounts required of either substance are weighed out by Nature in her delicate scales with a nicety which no art can attain. Thus, for example, 23 ounces of sodium will unite with exactly 35.5 ounces of chlorine; and if you use precisely these proportions of the two elements, the whole of each will disappear and become merged in the compound which is our common table salt. But if, in attempting to make salt, we bring together clumsily 23.5 ounces of sodium and 35.5 ounces of chlorine, Nature will simply put the extra half-ounce of sodium on one side, and the rest will unite. This law, which governs all chemical combinations, is known as the "law of definite proportions.''

Tables will be found in works on chemistry which give, opposite to the name of each elementary substance, a numerical value, usually called its atomic weight, and in all cases, where the elements are capable of combining with each other, they either unite in the exact proportions indicated by these numbers, or else in some simple multiple of these proportions.

The following are the atomic weights which are believed by the author to have been determined with the greatest accuracy:

                                       

Aluminum	27.02
Antimony	120.00
Barium	137.14
Bromine	79.95
Calcium	40.00
Carbon	12.00
Chlorine	35.46
Hydrogen	1.00
Iodine	126.85
Lead	206.91
Lithium	7.01
Magnesium	24.00
Nitrogen	14.04
Oxygen	16.00
Potassium	39.14
Phosphorus	31.05
Silver	107.93
Sodium	23.05
Sulphur	32.07
Thallium	204.11

These values are called atomic weights because, according to our modern chemical theory, they represent the relative weights of the ultimate atoms of the elements. If this be the case, it is evident that when the atoms group themselves together to form the molecules [*] of various substances, the elements must combine by whole atoms, that is, in the proportion of the atomic weights, or of a simple multiple of these proportions; and thus this atomic theory explains the law of definite proportions.

In connection with this table a most remarkable fact should be noticed, which indicates the deep significance of this series of values. They are all mutually dependent, so that the same numbers which represent the proportions in which two elementary substances combine with the same quantity of a third substance, represent also the proportion or a multiple of the proportion, in which they combine

with each other. Thus not only do 16 parts of oxygen combine either with 12 parts of carbon or with 14 parts of nitrogen to form in the first case carbonic oxide, and in the second case nitric oxide, but also 12 parts of carbon combine with 14 parts of nitrogen to form cyanogen; and the same principle holds for the other weights given in the table, whenever the elements are capable of combining, although, in most cases, only the multiple values appear in the formation of known compounds.

The standard of these weights is of course arbitrary; but if one number stands for pounds, all the rest stand for pounds, or if one stands for ounces, all the rest stand for ounces. It is usual, however, to leave the standard indefinite, and speak of so many parts. Again, the weights have only relative values; but if we give to any one a definite value, all the rest assume definite values. Our units must necessarily be more or less arbitrary. Most chemists take hydrogen for the unit of weight, and the numbers given in the table express the atomic weights of the other elements calculated on this assumption. But we might take any one of the elements as our starting-point, and formerly the European chemists used a system of weights calculated on the assumption that the equivalent of oxygen was 100. This assumption gives an entirely different system of numbers; but the difference is of no practical importance so long as the relative values remain unchanged.

Dr. Prout was the first to notice that many of the atomic weights were simple multiples of that of

hydrogen, and he thought that, if the weight of hydrogen was taken as unity, the other atomic weights could all be expressed by whole numbers. The progress of chemistry for a long time, however, did not seem to confirm this view—since most of the accurate experiments made for the purpose of fixing these constants gave incommensurable values, and this was especially true of a most noteworthy investigation, undertaken by Professor Stas, of Brussels, with the view of testing Prout's hypothesis. His experiments, which were conducted with extreme care, and with very large amounts of material, gave incommensurable values, and the results were thought at the time to show that the hypothesis in question was wholly illusory. Still it was remarkable that the values obtained by Stas differed from whole numbers only by a small fraction of a unit, and in the accurate determinations which have since been made by other chemists, the same striking feature appears. The nineteen atomic weights, whose values are given in the above table, may be fairly considered as the only ones which have been determined, with reference to hydrogen, with the greatest attainable precision, or a near approach thereto, and it will be noticed that, with the exception of the atomic weight of chlorine, the values differ in no case from a whole number by more than fifteen-hundredths of an integer, and generally by much less. If the atomic weights are in fact whole numbers, such slight differences from the true values as these in the observed results are exactly what we should expect, seeing that no determinations of this kind can with certainty be freed from the influence of constant experimental errors. On the other hand, if the true weights are incommensurable and distributed by chance, the probability that the observed values would all lie so near to whole numbers as they do would be exceedingly small, and hence the total result, as far as it goes, may be said to confirm rather than invalidate Prout's hypothesis. But leaving this question to be decided by further investigation, let us turn to an allied class of facts, which exhibit a very simple numerical relation, that cannot be questioned, and which, indeed, by analogy furnish a certain presumption in favor of the hypothesis of Prout.

In very many cases the same elements, by uniting in different proportions, form several distinct compounds, and we invariably find that the proportions of the elements in the different compounds bear a very simple numerical relation to each other. Thus there are five compounds of oxygen and nitrogen, which contain these elements in the proportions indicated in the following table.

Compounds of Oxygen and Nitrogen.

           

	Nitrogen.		Oxygen.
Nitrogen Monoxide	14 parts.		8 parts
Nitrogen Dioxide	14 "	8 X 2 =	16 "
Nitrogen Trioxide	14 "	8 x 3 =	24 "
Nitrogen Tetroxide	14 "	8 X 4 =	32 "
Nitrogen Pentoxide	14 "	8 X 5 =	40 "

It will be noticed that the proportions of oxygen in

these compounds are in all cases simple multiples of eight, the proportion in the first. In like manner, the compounds of manganese with oxygen show similar relations.

Compounds of Oxygen and Manganese.

           

	Manganese.	Oxygen.
Manganese Monoxide	27.5 parts.	8 parts.
Red Manganese Oxide	27.5 "	10 2/3 = 8 X 1 1/3 "
Manganese Sesquioxide	27.5 "	12 = 8 X 1 1/2 "
Manganese Dioxide	27.5 "	16 = 8 X 2 "
Manganese Heptoxide	27.5 "	28 = 8 X 3 1/2 "

The relation is not quite so simple as in the other case, but still the same general truth is evident, and these two examples are fair illustrations of what has been observed throughout the whole range of chemical compounds. Thus we find in these elementary forms of matter—the blocks with which the universe has been built—the same simple numerical relations which everywhere appear in the constructions of man.

Similar numerical relations are found throughout the whole universe of matter. In the solar system, for example, with the exception of Neptune, the intervals between the orbit of Mercury and the orbits of the other planets go on doubling, or nearly so, as we recede from the Sun. Thus the interval between the Earth and Mercury is nearly twice as great as that between Venus and Mercury, the interval between Mars and Mercury nearly twice as great as that between the Earth and Mercury, and so on. Again, if we compare the periods of revolution around the Sun, expressed in days, we

shall find another simple numerical relation, as shown by the following table.

Law of Periodic Times.

                   

	Observed.	Theoretical.	Fractions.
Neptune	60,129	62,000
Uranus	30,687	31,000	1/2
Saturn	10,759	10,333	1/3
Jupiter	4,333	4,133	2/5
Asteroids	1,200 to 2,000	1,550	3/8
Mars	687	596	5/13
Earth	365	366 8/13 }	8/21
Venus	225	227 13/21 }
Mercury	88	87	13/34

It will be noticed that the period of Uranus is 1/2 that of Neptune, the period of Saturn 1/3 that of Uranus, the period of Jupiter about 2/5 that of Saturn, the period of the Asteroids about 3/8 that of Jupiter, the period of Mars about 5/13 that of the Asteroids, the period of Venus about 8/21 that of Mars, and the period of Mercury about 13/34 that of Venus. The successive fractions are very simply related to each other, as will at once appear on writing them in a series,

1/2 , 1/3 , 2/5 , 3/8 , 5/13 , 13/34 , &c.

Notice that, after the first two, each succeeding fraction is obtained by adding together the numerators of the two preceding fractions for a new numerator, and the denominators for a new denominator. From this series, however, the Earth is excluded. Its time of revolution is almost exactly 8/13 of that

of Mars, and that of Venus nearly 13/21 of that of the Earth; but although these fractions do not fall into the above series, they are members of a complementary series beginning

1/2 , 2/3 , 3/5 , 5/8 , 8/13 , 13/21 , &c. This simple relation was discovered by Professor Peirce, and he has proposed an explanation for the anomaly presented by the Earth. But it is not important to dwell on this point. My only object has been to show that simple numerical relations appear in the planetary system, and this, as I trust, has been fully illustrated.

Passing now to the vegetable kingdom, we find again the same numerical laws. The leaves of a plant are always arranged in spirals around the stem. If we start from any one leaf, and count the number of leaves around the stalk and the number of turns of the spiral until we come to a second leaf immediately over the first, we find that for any given plant, as an apple-tree for example, the number of leaves and the number of turns of the spiral are always absolutely the same. The simplest arrangement is where the coincidence occurs at the second leaf, after a single turn of the spiral; and this may be expressed by the fraction 1/2 whose numerator denotes the number of turns of the spiral, and whose denominator the number of leaves. The next simplest arrangement is when the coincidence occurs at the third leaf, after a single turn of the spiral, and may be expressed by the fraction 1/3 . These two fractions express respectively the greatest and the

smallest divergence between two successive leaves which has been observed. The angle between two successive leaves, therefore, is never greater than 180°, or half the circumference of the stem, and never less than 120°, or one-third of the circumference. The arrangement next in simplicity is where the coincidence occurs at the fifth leaf, after two turns of the spiral, as is represented in the preceding figures. Other examples are given in the table

LAW OF PHYLLOTAXIS (Leaf-Arrangement).

                   

Name of Plant.	Number of Turns of Spiral.[38]	Number of Leaves. [*]	Fraction.	Angle of Divergence between two successive Leaves.
Grasses,	1	2	1/2	180°
Sedges,	1	3	1/3	120°
Apple, Cherry, Poplar}	2	5	2/5	144°
Holly, Callistemon, Aconite,}	3	8	3/8	135°
Rosettes of the Houseleek, Cones of the White Pine }	5	13	5/13	138° 28'
Cones of the European Larch, }	8	21	8/21	137° 9'
Certain Pine Cones,	13	34	13/34	137° 39'
Certain Pine Cones,	21	55	21/55	137° 27'
Typical arrangement which would expose to the Sun's rays the greatest leaf-surface,}	137° 30' 28''

which follows, and it will be seen that we have precisely the same series of fractions in the arrangement of leaves around the stem of a plant which

appears in the periods of the planets. The fractions of this series are all gradual approximations to a mean fraction between 1/2 and 1/3 which would give the most nearly uniform distribution possible to the leaves, and expose the greatest surface to the sun.

But this law does not stop with the plants. The same series of fractions expresses also the spiral arrangement of the tentacles of the Polyp and of the spines of the Echinus. Thus through the whole realm of nature, from the structure of the crystals to the dimensions of the human form, a similar numerical simplicity is preserved.

Have you never recognized the composition of your friend in some anonymous literary article, by a peculiar phraseology, a turn of style, or a method of thought which no artifice could conceal? Have you never felt a glow of pleasure when you unexpectedly discovered on the walls of a picture-gallery the work of a well-known artist, marked by some peculiarity of grouping or coloring? Has your attention never been quickened when an orchestra has suddenly struck into a new theme of a favorite composer, never heard before, but unquestionably his? If you have experienced these or similar emotions, you know something of the force with which such numerical laws impress the mind of the student of nature, and you also know how difficult it is to make the power of such impressions understood. I wish I could give you a full conception of this power; for you cannot otherwise feel the full force of the evidence which these facts afford. They point directly to an intelligence in nature like our own, and

they are a seal to the declaration of the Bible, that man was created in the image of his God.

The broken porticoes of the Parthenon still stand on the Acropolis at Athens to incite the imitation and win the admiration of the architect. That beauty of outline and those faultless proportions, which modern art has copied but never excelled, all depend on an exact conformity of all the parts to the laws of symmetry and to simple numerical ratios. We justly regard that ruined temple as the evidence of the highest intelligence; and when we find the same symmetry, the same numerical ratios, appearing everywhere in nature, how can we refuse to admit that they also are the evidence of intelligence and thought? Moreover, since the laws of symmetry and number pervade the whole universe, from the structure of the solar system down to the organization of a worm, they prove, if they prove anything, that the whole is the manifestation of the thoughts of the one great Jehovah, who "in the beginning'' created all things by the word of His power.

I have thus endeavored to show that the laws of nature, so far from proving that the world is governed by an inexorable necessity, furnish the strongest evidence of an overruling mind. We must be careful, however, not to misinterpret this evidence; for analogies like those we have studied led Schelling and the philosophers of his school to regard outward nature not merely as the result of Divine Thought, but as identical with that thought, and inseparable from it. Indeed, there are many among us who regard

the material universe as the manifestation of God, in the same intimate sense in which our bodies are the manifestation of our own personality; who therefore believe that the world is and always has been a part of His Eternal Being, and who look upon the laws of nature not merely as the manifestation of an Infinite Intelligence, but as a part of that Intelligence itself.

This philosophy may be made to appear very attractive, and even very reverential; but when followed out to its logical consequences, it reduces God to the level of nature, and merges His being in the matter He created. We must be as careful to avoid the snares of pantheism, as the slough of materialism. Both are equally destructive of true religion, and, although they lie on opposite sides of the Christian's path, they lead to the same result; and if once enticed from the narrow way, the Christian will be fortunate if Faith rescues him from the peril before he falls into the gulf of atheism. We must not confound the Creator with the creature. There is a personal God above all and over all, and although nature manifests His intelligence, its material forms are only the reflection, not the substance, of His Being. The error of the pantheist arises from a too superficial study of nature, and if we examine more closely the analogies between the laws of nature and the results of human thought, I am confident we shall find that the created forms may be readily distinguished from the Intelligence which gave them being.

In every human work we may always distinguish two things, the conception and the execution, and the

last never exactly conforms to the first. For example, in one of the grand Gothic cathedrals of our mother country we see united in the plan, first, the idea of the cross, the emblem of our Christian faith; then the spire, typifying the aspiration of the soul; and lastly, the long aisles, whose pointed arches and delicate tracery have been copied from the interlacing branches of God's first temple. The combination of these ideas may be said to be the conception of the cathedral; but how differently has this conception been embodied in the numerous cathedral churches of England! Besides the peculiar caprices of the architect or builder, we can trace in each church an evident adaptation of the parts to special purposes. Here a "lady chapel'' has been included in the design, and here the mausoleum of a king or a prelate; here a portion has been adapted to the reading of the service, and here to the session of the ecclesiastical court; but however varied the execution, the same conception is evident in all. So it is in all architecture. Our modern dwellings are built after a few general types, and the conception is very nearly the same in all houses of any one class. But how differently a skilful architect will arrange the details, and adjust them to the circumstances of the location, to the wants of the family, or the taste of the owner! and no one knows better than he that the conception of the building is one thing, and the execution of that conception a very different thing.

In the higher forms of art, the same truth appears even more strikingly. The Transfiguration of Raphael, that masterpiece of painting, does not hold

you breathless before it so much by what it actually represents, as by what it embodies and helps you to realize. He who sees merely what is painted on the canvas will turn away disappointed, but in the soul of the true student of art, who enters into the spirit of the great painter, the conception grows as he gazes, until he becomes transported and gains a vision of the splendors of the Mount. In like manner, it is not that lovely female face which has endeared the Sistine Madonna to so many hearts, and made Dresden one of the shrines of the world. In mere point of execution, this picture may be surpassed by many works of living artists; but the conception of a pure mother's love has been nowhere embodied as there, and that is the charm. You stand before the Laocoön until the blood runs cold and the muscles writhe in sympathy, and then you look at the motionless statue and wonder whence comes the power. It is not in the skilfully chiselled marble, but it is in the conception of the unknown artist, which the petrified forms suggest. So it is everywhere with the works of man; the conception can always be distinguished from the embodied fact. But what need of illustration? Who does not know the difference between the two, and who has not sadly experienced how far his best efforts fall short of his ideal? The thought, the conception, how noble! the execution, the reality, how humble!

Turning now to Nature, we find the same distinction there between the conception and the facts. Nature does not, of course, like man, fall below her ideal for want of power, but she departs from it in order to

adapt her work to specific ends, or to accommodate it to conditions and accidents of various kinds; and everywhere the conception, or, as we generally call it, the law, is modified in the execution, so that the actual can be plainly distinguished from that which our minds have recognized as the ideal. Review for a moment, with this idea, a few examples of natural laws, beginning with the law of symmetry.

We seldom, if ever, find in nature crystals having that regularity of form or that perfection of outline represented in our figures. Natural crystals are almost invariably more or less distorted or imperfect, and a perfect crystal is at best a very rare exception. It is true that in all cases of distortion the relative inclination of the planes is very nearly constant; but even this is liable to a slight variation. Moreover, many of the ideal forms of crystals are never found in nature, or if at all, not in their perfection. They are at best merely shadowed forth, as it were, on other forms, and so partially that the unpractised eye would never detect them. So true is this, that, as I have before stated, the present science of crystallography could never have been developed by observation alone. How evident, then, the distinction between the actual crystals and the thought which they embody!

Crystallography is worthy of special study from this point of view. Of all the departments of natural history it most nearly approaches a perfect science. The conceptions involved are so simple that they have been grasped by the human understanding with a completeness which has nowhere else been

reached, and we feel confidence that, to a great extent at least, we comprehend the plan. Hence in this science the distinction on which we are here insisting becomes plainly marked, but of course the truth can be realized in its fulness only by the students who have mastered the subject.

In striking contrast to the completeness of the science of crystallography, is the present obviously rudimentary condition of the theory of chemistry; but even in this subject, although the thought has been so imperfectly comprehended, the distinction between the governing plan and the material manifestation is perfectly clear. The various attempts to classify the chemical elements according to their natural affinities have never been more than very partially successful. This arises chiefly from the complex relationship which many of the elementary substances manifest, and different authors may reasonably assign to such elements different places in their system of classification, according as they chiefly view them in one or the other aspect. Indeed, no classification in independent groups can satisfy the complex relations of the elements. These relations cannot be exhibited by a system of parallel series, but only by a web of crossing lines, in which the same element may be represented as a member of two or more series at once, and as affiliating in different directions with very different classes of substances.

These attempts at classification have, however, made conspicuous one feature in the scheme of the chemical elements, which seems to be fundamental. It appears that as the atomic weight increases, elements

having closely allied properties occur at nearly regular intervals, so that with Mendelejeff we can arrange the elements in the order of their atomic weights in a series of horizontal lines containing each about seven members, and bring into the same vertical columns only elements which belong to the same natural family, or at least are allied in some respect. Tables of the elements so arranged will be found in most of the recent works on chemistry, [*] but necessarily the scheme is intelligible only to those who are already familiar with the properties of the elementary substances, and it would be out of place to enter into the details in this book. As in almost all classifications of natural objects, the observed facts require considerable humoring in order to accommodate them to the scheme, and, moreover, the elements that are brought together in the vertical columns are frequently allied by only one set of their properties, while in other respects they are equally or even more closely related to elements from which they are widely separated by the system. Still no one who studies the subject can fail to be impressed with the general fact that there is an orderly recurrence of similar qualities in the series of the elements. Moreover, the discovery of the new element gallium has filled one of the obvious gaps in the series, as originally constructed by Mendelejeff, and the qualities of this remarkable metal closely conform to those which he had predicted for the missing member of the series; furthermore, some of the irregularities in the original classification have been harmonized by redeterminations of doubtful atomic weights.

The glimpses that we have thus been able to gain of the order in the constitution of matter, give us grounds for believing that there is a unity of plan pervading the whole scheme, and encourage a confident expectation, that hereafter, when our knowledge becomes more complete, chemists may attain to at least such a partial conception of this plan as will enable them to classify both elementary and compound substances under some natural system; and in imagination we may even look forward to the time when science shall succeed in expressing all the possibilities of this scheme in a few general formulæ, which will enable the chemist to predict with absolute certainty the qualities and relations of any given combination of materials and conditions. But although to a very slight extent the idea has been realized for the compounds of carbon, yet, as a whole, this grand conception is to-day only a dream.

There is a point connected with the classification of the chemical elements which is deserving of our notice in this connection. We have already seen that, although some seventy elements have been discovered—several of which, however, are as yet of doubtful authenticity—the greater portion of the earth's crust consists of only ten or twelve. Indeed, if the remaining fifty elements were suddenly annihilated, the mass of the globe, so far as we know, would not be sensibly diminished. Indeed, a large

number of the elements occur in such minute quantities that they can be detected only by the most skilful chemical analysis. That these very rare elements were designed by the Creator to subserve important ends, we need not doubt; but it is certain that they play a very subordinate part on the surface of the globe. For bromine and iodine, and a few others, important applications have been discovered in the arts or in medicine; but the rest, comprising at least one-third of all the known elements, have no apparent value except as parts of a general plan. In the light of a utilitarian philosophy they must appear useless; but to the true student of nature they have a significance which transcends everything else. They are parts of a universal order, of a Divine cosmos, which would be incomplete without them. They are the manifestation of Infinite Intelligence. They embody the thoughts of God. In the words of Chevalier Bunsen, "Law is the supreme rule of the universe, and this law is intellect, is reason, whether viewed in the formation of a planetary system or in the organization of a worm.''

But we must remember, in discussing this question, that it does not follow, because we cannot discover any important end which these elements subserve on our earth, that they have no practical utility. For after acknowledging the dignity which they acquire when regarded as the characters of that language in which the creative thoughts have been written, and as the appointed means of educating the human race, still it does not seem consistent

with that economy of resources which appears in all parts of the Divine plan, that they should have no special functions to discharge in the cosmos. Now I would suggest, but I offer the suggestion in all humility, that these very rare elements may be adapted by their peculiar properties to the thermal conditions of some other planet or some other stellar system. We have seen that those elements which are the most widely distributed over the earth are such as are adapted by their properties to the conditions of organic life on the third planet of the solar system, and it is certainly possible that some different scheme of organic life may be sustained on Mercury or Uranus, in which elements rare to us take the place of oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and carbon, and perhaps also the elements missing in our classification may be found in some other world, revolving around Sirius or Arcturus, where oxygen, sulphur, and iron may be among the rarities of science.

All this is, of course, the purest hypothesis, and such speculation can lead to no positive results; but the very possibility of such speculations as those in which we have been indulging in this connection illustrates most pointedly the great truth I am endeavoring to enforce. The thought embodied in the scheme of chemical elements is something entirely apart from their material forms, and the moment this thought is apprehended by man, it opens to his imagination vistas of possible realities which entirely transcend all human experience.

If next we compare, more carefully than before, the periods of revolution of the planets around the Sun, we shall find that the same general principle holds true. The observed periods, you will notice by the table on page 272, do not exactly correspond to the simple ratios which express the law, and the same is true of the distribution of leaves around the stem of a plant, and in fact of all classes of phenomena in nature. In each we observe only a tendency towards a maximum effect, which is the perfect expression of the law, but which is seldom fully reached. The limits of variation are broader in some cases than in others, but we find no case in which the accordance is absolute.

In none, however, of the purely physical laws is this character so strongly marked as in the structure of animals and plants. It is well known that all organized forms, although so wonderfully diversified, are fashioned after a few general types. In the animal kingdom there are only four general plans, represented by the Radiata, the Mollusca, the Articulata, and the Vertebrata, and all the animals of any one of these great divisions are organized alike. For example, in all vertebrate animals we find essentially the same parts; and similar homologies, as they are called, may be traced throughout the animal kingdom, and any anatomist will point out to you in the skeleton of a fish, of a reptile, of a bird, or of a quadruped, the bones which correspond to the various parts in the skeleton of a man. In the wings of a bat the bones of the human arm may readily be traced. Moreover, very frequently when

there is no use for a given organ, it is still present in a rudimentary condition. Professor Wyman found rudimentary eyes in the so-called eyeless fishes of the Mammoth Cave, and equally striking examples of the same general truth are familiar to every one.

Here, then, is a most obvious distinction between the conception and the execution, and the general plan of the skeleton is preserved, even where there is no use for certain parts, and where we might perhaps conceive of a simpler arrangement without them. But, more than this, we find that the variations from what we may regard as the typical form have been obviously made in order to adapt the organs to certain specific ends. The same plan which, developed in its full perfection, appears in the human hand and arm, reappears, more or less fully carried out, in the fore legs of a horse, in the wings of an eagle, and in the pectoral fins of a dolphin; and in each case the organ has been obviously adapted to some special purpose. Special adaptation has thus been most beautifully harmonized with general law, and the conception has been varied in the execution in order to secure some wise and important end.

We, of course, do not forget that the rudimentary organs to which we have referred are looked upon by the evolutionists from a very different point of view, and constantly cited as among the strongest evidences of the truth of their theories; that they are regarded by them as the survivals of a previous condition in which they played their appropriate parts, and as an inheritance which marks the ancestry

of a species, as family traits often mark the ancestry of an individual: and although, as it seems to us, this explanation of the origin of rudimentary organs will not hold in all cases, we at once admit its wide application, and we leave all such questions of proximate causes to the naturalists, to be decided on scientific evidence, and on that alone. But we claim that the facts are perfectly consistent with the operation of an intelligent first cause, and that this more comprehensive interpretation, so far from excluding, includes all temporary influences and subordinate effects.

This subject is capable of almost indefinite illustration, and the vegetable kingdom is as rich in examples of the principle we have been discussing as the animal. I have not, however, time for further details. The whole ground has been most carefully surveyed by McCosh and Dickie in their excellent work entitled "Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation,'' and to this I would refer those who may be interested to pursue the study of these singular facts. Sufficient, I trust, has already been said to show that the phenomena of nature and the results of human thought resemble each other in their very incompleteness.

While, therefore, a more careful study has tended to confirm the result at which we arrived in the last chapter, and has strengthened the impression that the universe was created by an intelligence like our own, we have also found that the analogies of nature point with equal distinctness to the conclusion that this intelligence is a being entirely apart from and

infinitely superior to the matter he created or the laws he ordained. If these analogies are worth anything, they point not to a spirit of the universe, pervading and energizing matter, but they prove the existence of a personal God; one who can sustain to us the relations of Father, Saviour, and Sanctifier; one whom we can love, worship, and adore.

But it may be urged that I have drawn my illustrations wholly from the phenomenal laws of nature, and entirely overlooked the great dynamical laws, which, like the law of gravitation, are more precise. Moreover, it will be said that the history of astronomy gives us every reason to believe that these very variations, to which I have assigned such importance, are merely necessary consequences of some higher law not yet discovered, just as the perturbations of the planetary orbits are the legitimate results of the very law they seemed at first to invalidate. I have no doubt that in part, at least, this will be found to be the case. But even in regard to the law of gravitation, there always have been residual phenomena, unexplained by the law, and so probably there always will be, until, as we go on widening our generalizations, the last generalization of all brings us into the presence of that First Cause through whom and by whom all things are sustained.

I trust that the striking analogies between the phenomena of nature and the results of human thought, which I have been able so imperfectly to illustrate, have impressed you, as they impress me, with the profound conviction that the order of nature

is the manifestation of an Infinite Intelligence, but of an Intelligence apart from, and superior to, the cosmos which it once created and now upholds. If I have failed in my object, it is because I have been unable to bring home these analogies to your understanding. The resemblances are so striking, that I do not believe a mind which is conversant with the facts, and unbiassed by the prejudices of philosophy or of education, can resist the conclusion that this scheme of nature is the manifestation of an intelligence like our own, at least so far as the Infinite can be said to resemble the finite. Men may reasonably entertain differences of opinion in regard to the mode of action of that Being who has created the universe. They may believe that a certain amount of power, together with the germ of all future existence, was implanted in the original chaos, and that the Deity has never interfered with the natural action and the unfolding of the causes which He has thus ordained; but whatever theories of cosmogony may be entertained, short of absolute materialism, he must be indeed blinded by his prejudices who refuses to recognize in these analogies the evidence of intelligence and thought.

I do not, of course, regard analogies as proofs, nor do I believe that this argument from general plan could supply the place of the great argument from Design. The last lies at the basis of Natural Theology, and all the rest is merely subsidiary to the great central light. Moreover, while the argument from design comes home to every man's understanding, these analogies appeal with their full force only

to the few who are able to study the processes of nature for themselves, as they alone are familiar with the phenomena in which the resemblances are seen. But to the student, whose life has been passed in successful investigation, and whose soul has been brought into sympathy with the harmonies of nature, these tokens are constantly assuring him of the presence of his God. Every discoverer feels—when in brought face to face with a great truth, he cannot resist the feeling—that, in discovering a law, he has been brought nearer, not to a blind agency, but to Omnipotence itself. To this conclusion he is not led solely by philosophy; for although he may defend his conviction on reasonable grounds, in its full power it transcends all human philosophy. Man cannot always tell why he knows. But when illuminated from the altar of his faith, all nature wears a new aspect, and his spiritual eye discovers everywhere acting that same Infinite Intelligence which "spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets,'' and "hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son.''

Do I hear it said that such loose reasoning is a gross violation of the Baconian philosophy, and of that severe induction by which alone science has been built up? But do we not know, have we not seen, that the whole structure of science rests on no firmer foundation than these very analogies of nature,— that at the beginning of all knowledge, where we should most expect infallibility, we find only uncertainty and doubt?

Science is a grand temple built by man to glorify

his Maker, its unfinished spire pointing to heaven, but its foundations resting on a cloud. The work has been done as well as faithful hearts and active hands could do it. Examine its walls and its buttresses, and from base-stone to coping you will find no defect. Each block has been so carefully wrought and so firmly clamped in its place, with all the strength of iron logic, that you will unhesitatingly conclude that the mighty structure has been reared, not for time, but for eternity. Yet it all rests on a cloud. Let that cloud be dispersed, and only God can tell whether the structure shall stand or fall.

Are we then, you will ask, to mistrust these boasted results of science? Is this imposing structure all a phantom, a mere day-dream, from which we shall awake on the morning of eternity to find all passed? Certainly not! God has not endowed his creature with faculties of observation merely to delude him, and with an intellect solely to lead him into error. He has not raised up the long line of scientific heroes of every age, merely to deceive themselves and mislead the world. No! the temple of science will stand fast. That cloud on which it rests is a firmer foundation than any granite rock; for it is not of man, but of God. Yet let us not forget that this assurance is based only on the same faith which is the "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.''