Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

facility of transmutation, in virtue of which external things go about from group to group, so that what is bright to-day may be dark to-night and bright again to-morrow, or what is in motion now may be afterwards in repose and anon in motion once more. But there is one great exception to this law of convertibility, and that in the very group with which we are most intimately concerned; for a thing which is alive to-day may be dead to-morrow, but it will not live again.

If, however, we continue to reflect upon the subject, we shall see that this physical law of life, important as it is, does not yet furnish man with a reply to that question which most concerns him. For we want to know whether the death of the individual be the end of his conscious existence not merely here, and under earthly conditions, but elsewhere, and under all conceivable conditions. Now, can a study of nature enable us to solve this problem? There are three possible replies which science, so questioned, may be imagined to give to our demand. In the first place, it is at least conceivable that she may be in a position to offer a definite solution of the question, whether positive or negative; or, secondly, she may affirm her absolute incompetence to throw any light whatever upon the subject; or, thirdly, while unable to afford a complete solution, she may yet be able to offer some hint that will support the evidence derived from other quarters. We need hardly say that in pursuing such an inquiry from the scientific side, we must divest ourselves of all strictly personal considerations. The craving of the individual for continued existence (as well as the opposite craving which some assert they possess) is, after all, a personal equation here out of place, and which we must hand over to the moral philosopher to be weighed in other balances than ours.

But, nevertheless, this separation between the moral and scientific aspects of the question is, after all, artificial—it is one which convenience dictates rather than one which true philosophy requires. Indeed, we are never able to get rid of the moral element even in those investigations most legitimately scientific. For no man is able to verify by himself the truth of statements which he is yet willing to accept on the testimony of others. Thus the moral element of trustworthiness mingles,

and must continue to mingle, with all our intellectual achievements. In astronomy, for instance, certain phenomena may have been observed by one generation which will not be repeated to the next-the astronomer must therefore estimate in his mind the amount of credit or trustworthiness to be attached to the observations of his predecessors before he can arrive at any conclusion. One or two concrete examples may perhaps serve to bring out more clearly the peculiarities of this law of scientific testimony.

A trustworthy friend has told us that during a thunderstorm he observed an unmistakable instance of globular lightning. We cannot explain this phenomenon by what we know of electricity, but are yet willing to own that our knowledge of the subject is incomplete. Now, if under these circumstances another independent and trustworthy observer should inform us that he too saw the same phenomenon at the same time, and nearly at the same place, our suspense would be removed, and something like a scientific certainty would take its place. The evidence in favor of the existence of globular lightning would be unquestionably good; while it would also be the best that could from the nature of the case be brought into court. Let us now take a very different case, and imagine that another friend (quite trustworthy) should suddenly inform us that on

one occasion he had seen the sun remain above the horizon for a couple of days in these latitudes, or that he was able at will to create gold out of nothing, or that he knew a friend who could read the secrets of any cabinet at any distance. We should without hesitation conclude from the first two statements that the physical health of our friend must be looked to, while from the last, standing by itself, we should imagine that he had been imposed upon by others. In neither case should we believe for one moment in the reality of the occurrence, for to do so would introduce an element of permanent intellectual confusion.

We thus begin to see what constitutes the scientific law of evidence; it is not that the man of science objects to believe in the occurrence of strange and unfrequent phenomena, but that he believes these to occur only in such a way as not to put the intellectual faculties to permanent perplexity.

There can be no doubt that if the day were occasionally twice as long as usual, or if a man could create gold at will out of nothing, or if another could read secrets at will, human business would be permanently interrupted, and the human intellect put to permanent confusion. These examples may perhaps serve to bring before our readers the exact nature of this most fundamental and deeply seated of all our scientific convictions, and may likewise be useful in another way. It will be noticed that it is only in the first case quoted by us that we erect a mental tribunal; in the second, we have no hesitation in pronouncing at once. Now, hesitation implies ignorance, and thus represents not a permanent but only a transitory phase in the progress of inquiry. Had our knowledge of electricity been more complete we should not have had to sit in judgment at all, and we may look forward to the time when this result will be attained. If we apply this principle to the main subject of discussion, it must surely be acknowledged that the present perplexity represents only a passing phase of thought. Just at this moment there are doubtless not a few who imagine they have an intellectual reason for questioning the possibility of a future state, while on the other hand they are convinced of the moral necessity for such a belief. They thus exist in a state of suspense, being swayed first to one side and then to another in their conclusions.

Now it is our conviction, as well as that of many others, that the antagonism which these men fancy does not really exist, but that the stage for such uncertainty has already been passed, so that this balancing of conclusions is absolutely uncalled for. On the contrary, we maintain that a sufficiently wide discussion from the scientific side will now produce results that will commend themselves to the moral philosopher. Before commencing this discussion, it may be desirable briefly to review the position which the materialistic school have taken up.

With regard to the objective side of the universe it is maintained that we have no knowledge of any thing else than molecules and ether, the former being likened to the bricks out of which the physical structure is built, while the ether forms the cement by virtue of which these bricks are bound together.

The energy or working power of this universe is likewise

supposed to be constant, none coming into it, and none going out. This energy is, however, capable of going backwards and forwards between the molecules and the ether; but on the whole there is more going from the molecules to the ether than from the ether to the molecules. A day will therefore arrive when our solar system will have parted with all its energy. In the next place, it is maintained that there is a very intimate connection between the feelings and thoughts of a being like man and the brain-changes which form the invariable concomitants of these feelings and thoughts. Therefore, whenever we remember a past event, this act of memory involves a change in our brain, in which such memory is, in a physical sense, stored up. Thus Professor Huxley tells us, "It is not to be doubted that those motions which give rise to sensation leave on the brain changes of its substance, which answer to what Haller called 'restigia rerum,' and to what that great thinker, David Hartley, termed 'Vibratiuncules.'. The sensation which has passed away leaves behind molecules of the brain competent to its reproduction-' sensigmous' molecules, so to speak-which constitute the physical foundation of memory."

Now, presuming that it is impossible to conceive of a finite unconditional intelligence, that is to say, of a pure finite spirit, it would seem to follow that one of the requisites of continued existence must be the possession of some organ of memory, by means of which the present is connected with the past experience of the living being, and that when death destroys this organ of memory it puts an end to the existence of the individual. It may perhaps be alleged that there exists in the ether traces of every action which has occurred in the brain before death, and therefore something analogous to a physical memory; but to this it is replied that life is absolutely impossible in the ether as we know it. In fine, it is asserted that the destruction of the brain involves that of the memory, and is therefore the end of the individual's existence. Now, theologians have, for the most part, replied to this by reminding us that all things are possible with God, and hence that a new form may be created by him to replace that which is destroyed by death. The counter-reply is that such would be equivalent to the creation of an absolutely new universe, having no per

ceivable physical relation to the present, and would therefore introduce an element of permanent intellectual confusion in order to remedy apparent moral confusion.

Besides, it is said, what evidence can we have of the existence of such a state? and if the historical miracles of Christianity be cited, it is replied that to believe in these would introduce the very same element of confusion.

The new school of thought conceive themselves, therefore, driven to discredit the reality of these occurrences, and to look upon them as legends or impostures, however difficult such an hypothesis may otherwise be.

The theologian replies to this by bringing forward the character and claims of Christ, and arguing that the very conception, and far more the historical reality, of this character and these claims imply a moral miracle so stupendous and unaccountable, on natural grounds alone, as to render insignificant all discussion of those physical occurrences which, taken by themselves, might prove perplexing. Here, then, we have all the elements of a controversy that has at first sight the appearance of being interminable.

The scientific school take their stand upon the basis of the intellect, and assert that the claims of Christianity and the doctrine of a future state would inevitably lead to intellectual confusion; while the theologians, on their side, assert that the doctrines of the new school of scientific thought would lead to moral and spiritual confusion. And each party keeps very much to its own ground. Occasionally the man of science tries to build morals on a new foundation, but not with much success;, while the theologian, on his side, tries too often to discredit the conclusions of the scientific school in a way that is equally unconvincing. In fine, we have here nothing like a serious engagement, but rather a never-ending controversy, very much resembling (and we trust that both parties will excuse the comparison) that of two dogs that stand facing one another, and barking furiously each from the limit of his chain. Untie their chains and they may perhaps fight at first, but will presently end by being very good friends. It is virtually a task of this nature which Professor Tait of Edinburgh and the author of this essay have endeavored to aid in accom

« PredošláPokračovať »