M

SCIENCE AND FAITH

BY

PROF. A. J. DU BOIS,
r i -
Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University.

Reprinted from Christian Thouoht.

Nbw York :
WILBUR B. KETCHAM, Pusuaawt,
2 Coopbr Union.

Christian T

HRISTIAN 1 HOUGHT.

SCIENCE AND FAITH.
[Delivered before the American Institute of Christian
Philosophy, February 2d, 1892.]
By Prof. A. J. Du Bois, of the Sheffield Scientific School of Yale University.
I HAVE reason to fear that many of my audience, upon learn
ing the topic which I have chosen for this address — SCIENCE
ANQ FAITH — have anticipated only one more, added to the
myriads of efforts, more or less feeble or able, which are con
stantly being made in these days, to " reconcile Scripture with
science." The subject from this point of view is indeed a well-worn
one. Hardly a month passes without discovering a new cham
pion and bringing some new contribution. It is perhaps, there
fore, only natural that you should have come here prepared to
listen to one more disquisition upon this now somewhat thread
bare theme.
If this be so, let me at once relieve your minds. I -have
nothing to do in this address with theology, or with theologic
dogma or belief. I wish to guard at the outset most emphati
cally against any such misconception. I have little to say, ex
cept incidentally and in passing, even of religion and its claims,
or of religious faith. Still less to say of Christianity and Chris
tian belief. I wish to speak to you to-night of what we may
call " scientific faith."
We hear much now-a-days from scientific men about the
turpitude of believing anything without "scientific proof." All
"sentiment" is per se to be distrusted, and all "bias" to be
feared. One's personality is to be guarded against as a source
321

322 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
of error. To believe simply upon the basis of emotional inter
est, we learn from Huxley, is the " lowest depth of immorality."
To believe even the truth, without scientific evidence, we are
told upon the authority of Clifford, is "guilt" and "mental
treason." To allow preference to tamper with judgment is an
" unpardonable sin."
There is much of truth is these assertions. We owe much to
science and to men of science, for teaching and enforcing such
opinions, and for the new, intense love of truth which, largely
owing1 to their labors, is rapidly spreading in these days.
Taken in the broad sense, that unworthy motives ought not
to bias our judgment, such remarks are undoubtedly true and
wholesome, but in this sense they apply as well to the scientist
as to the theologian, they apply, in fact, to every student of
human knowledge. Taken in the more specific sense, however,
which seems always to be implied, that our so-called " scientific
proof" is of a different nature and character from all other, they
are not so evidently just. Scientific men themselves will, I
think, admit that " sentiment," " imagination," even " personal
equation " and " bias " are not always and invariably absent
even from purely scientific debate, that scientific opinion does
not always imply perfect equilibrium and unwavering neutrality,
that it is " quite as possible to dogmatize about the nebular
hypothesis as about the immaculate conception, and a congress
of scientists is no more assured against premature generaliza
tions than an ecumenical council."
It may be well, therefore, to dwell for a while upon the rela
tion which faith — not religious faith or belief, but faith in its
more general significance, that is, the acceptance of and belief
in that which in the nature of things we cannot prove — bears to
science. In other words, I want you to consider with me, some
what more closely than is customary, the nature of those
*l proofs " which science accepts, and justly accepts, as conclu
sive, and upon what those proofs are really based.
This seems to me especially desirable, because there is at
present a very prevalent, and, as I hope soon to convince you,
a very erroneous, belief that science has, properly, nothing what
ever to do with faith, even in the sense in which I have just de-

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 323
fined it. It is supposed to be the peculiar boast of the man of
science that he believes nothing which is not rigidly " demon
strated"; that he accepts nothing as "proved" which rests
merely upon trust. Many things, of course, he assumes, or
thinks very probable and considers as true, which he cannot as
yet prove. He has, it is hardly necessary to say, his " specula
tions," and his "hypotheses," and his "theories," as well as his
" demonstrated facts." But he is supposed to draw, and he really
does draw — more closely than is usual in ordinary discussion — a
distinct and cbarly-defined line between mere opinion and con
viction. His beliefs, like those of all men, are open to future
correction and emendation, as science progresses and new
knowledge comes to light. But his convictions — those things
which in the full light of reason and knowledge he is forced to
believe and which he accepts as " demonstrated" — these are be
lieved to be founded upon the rock. These are verities, eternal
as the heavens, enduring as the earth — glimpses, he is fain to be
lieve, of the methods and mind of One in whom is no variable
ness neither shadow of turning.
Thus, it has come to be very widely believed, and quite natu
rally, too; that in respect to its methods of proof at least, science
has, and can, have, nothing to do with faith. That the two are
wide asunder as the poles; have no points of contact; and are
even essentially opposed if not actually antagonistic. Faith be
lieves on trust; science accepts only on evidence.
So common and widespread is this belief, that it even fur
nishes a sort of neutral ground, upon which to-day the theolo
gian and scientist agree to meet in peace, if not in sympathy.
"I deal," the man of science cries, "with facts which I find out
for myself by observation. These facts are not ' revealed.' I
do not take them upon trust. They are verities which my ex
perience justifies and sanctions. I am convinced only by rigid
demonstration, and that which I accept as proved is based upon
a perfect chain of evidence, where every link is without a flaw,
and not one step is made in uncertainty. The theologian goes
to revelation, which he takes on trust. His facts are revealed,
not found. His convictions rest on faith, not reason. Hands
off then on both sides ! Let there be peace between us. His

324 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
ways are not my ways, his thoughts are not my thoughts, hisl
province is not mine. Let us each proceed upon our different
paths, secure in the confidence that when the truth shall finally be
manifest, the revelation of God's purposes to man will never, and
can never, conflict with the revelation of God's methods in nature."
Such is, I take it, a fair statement of what is called the " toler
ant attitude " of to-day. But, my friends, no lasting peace can
rest upon such basis; and so we see that ever and anon the con
flict bursts out again on some new field, only with added vio
lence by reason of the deceptive lull.
Now, leaving entirely out of sight the religious side of the
question, let us confine our attention to one of the hostile camps
alone. It is well in such brief intervals of peace, while still
weary with the stress of conflict we rest awhile upon our arms,
to go over as fairly as we may the justice of our own side, and
consider the validity of our own claims.
I want, then, to try and make it clear to you that science
can justly draw no such dividing line, and has no right to thus
mark off a boundary within which she must repel intruders. I
want to show you if I can, that science herself stands firmly only
on the foundation of faith. Deprived of that, the mighty struc
ture she has erected, and of which she is so justly proud, must
fall in ruins. That what we consider, and justly consider, our
most certain knowledge does not and can not admit of " rigid
demonstration." That our most positive convictions- rest at
bottom upon assumptions, whose truth must be taken simply
upon trust. That our strongest convictions, whose verity we
cannot without denying our very reason doubt, and would be
willing to attest if need were, with our lives, have no better
basis at bottom than that we think them to be true. That
though science may and does differ widely from religion in its
methods and in the character of its facts; in the character of its
evidence it can justly claim not one particle of superiority, and
its convictions rest upon the same foundation. That the con
clusions of the one have no better claim to acceptance than
those of the other, and that, in both alike, proof has its sole
justification in experience, and conviction is the outcome of faith
and faith alone.

; SCIENCE AND FAITH. 325
In other words, my thesis is, that the basis of all scientific
( knowledge is faith.
To illustrate, make clear and support this thesis is the task
which I propose to undertake, and the line of argument I have
laid out is briefly this:
First. I shall ask your attention to the character of what is
called scientific proof or " demonstration," as distinguished from
"speculation," "hypothesis" and "theory," and shall show that
when an hypothesis intervenes between the observed facts and
the conclusion, that that conclusion is a "speculation" and not
a demonstrated truth. Then I shall try to show you that all
scientific proof is really based upon a single hypothesis, viz., that
of the uniformity of nature, and, therefore, that there is no such
thing in science, properly speaking, as "rigid demonstration."
I shall enforce this' conclusion by showing that the highest and
most convincing kind of proof that science can ever attain to is
merely cumulative in its nature, and, therefore, even if no as
sumption were made at all, the conclusion woujd not be "rigid
ly " deduced. Finally — I shall call attention to the fact that
our experience is necessarily limited, and upon such limited ex
perience only can we justify our belief. But since limited experi
ence does not justify absolute conviction in the truth of any
thing, if, nevertheless, we claim such a degree of verity for our
scientific conclusions, our only justification and ground for such
belief is faith. Haying thus shown that cumulative proof, based
upon limited experience and resting ultimately upon a pure
assumption, forms the basis of our most certain beliefs, I shall
hold my thesis as proved.
But I shall go further. I shall point out that the imagi
nation is very largely used in science as an instrument of dis
covery. That the " argument by analogy " is daily made use
of in scientific investigation, and that this implies a new as
sumption, viz., the identity of plan and structure in nature.
Finally — this identity of plan justifies the further assumption of
community of origin, and thus science, based upon faith, is
forced to find in the contemplation of one supreme and guiding
intelligence, as the common source of all, the solution of that
agreement between the mind of man and the works of natu**.

326 ' SCIENCE AND FAITH.
which alone can justify its methods and give to its conclusions
the force of absolute truth. Thus science, upon its own ground,
and judged by its own methods and logic, must admit this con
clusion as at least as certain and resting upon precisely the same
grounds for belief as any of those other conclusions for which it
so strenuously claims the universal belief of mankind.
Having thus cleared the way and outlined the argument, let
me begin by calling your attention for a moment to the charac
ter of what is called " scientific proof." We speak in scientific
parlance of " speculation," "hypothesis," " theory " and " demon
strated fact." Let us try and find out just what we mean by
these terms, and for this purpose I shall expand an illustration
used by Prof. Clifford for a similar purpose.
If, upon seeing me enter this hall, you should infer that I
had just arrived here from the station ; that I walked all the way
here from the station, and that I walked moreover through cer
tain streets in order to get here — that, if you had no good
reasons for such a series of assumptions, would be a mere ran
dom guess. If, however, you had such reasons, it would be a
" speculation," because the facts known do not force you to
adopt it, but only render it more or less probable. Thus I may
have come in a carriage or have started from a different place.
To be sure you ought to have reasons which give more or less
probability to your speculation, or else, as I have said, it would
be simply a guess. Thus you know, for instance, the situation
of the station and the hall, more or less of my habits, when I
was expected to arrive, etc., and you know also that I was to
be here at a certain hour to address you. All these known facts
render your speculation more or less probable — without them it
would be simply a random guess. It may or may not be actual
ly true, and you would not accept it as true without further evi
dence. Still you may, in view of what you do know, accept it
provisionally as probably true — as a reasonable suspicion; and
such a conclusion or series of conclusions we call a " specula
tion." Now, in arriving at your conclusion or at speculation, you have
consciously or unconsciously assumed certain things to be true,
of which you have no proof. Thus you assume, for instance.

, SCIENCE AND FAITH. $2J
that I walked; that I walked at my usual rate of speed ; that I
started from a certain place; and that I naturally took the short
est way here. Upon the truth of these assumptions, singly and
collectively, your speculation depends. Each one of these as
sumptions we call an "hypothesis'* — something hypothecated.
We say if this or this be true, then it follows, etc. Your specu
lation then is based upon one or more hypotheses for which you
have no proof, but only a probability more or less strqng. But
now suppose that you do know these things which before you
assumed, viz., that I did walk; that I walked at my usual rate of
speed; and that I started from the station. Then your conclu
sion as to the route I took is a "theory," because it accounts for
all the known facts without any hypothesis at all intervening.
It may or may not be true, and is therefore by no means certain
or demonstrated. Thus I may have come by some other route
of equal length, and that would account equally well for all the
facts. We may have, then, several theories, all equally good,
but each of them is a " theory " and not a speculation, because
it is a strictly logical conclusion from the known facts; which
accounts for all those facts; and makes use of no assumptions or
hypotheses to connect the facts. From the facts we go back to
the theory by a logical train which has no flaw.
But suppose, finally, that it is winter and there is snow on
the ground, and that you have thus traced my footsteps all the
way from the station to this house. Then your theory as to the
route I took is said to be " demonstrated." From the known
facts you go straight back by unbroken logical steps to the con
clusion without any other theory being possible. The theory is
thus demonstrated when all other possible theories are excluded;
and in this way we arrive in science at what we call " demon
strated truth." This is the kind of proof which science claims
and it certainly seems convincing enough.
Generalizing then, we see in the light of our example that a
theory must be the strictly logical outcome of all the known
facts. It shows the relations which exist between those facts
and their mutual dependence. It may not be the only logical
deduction, in which case we naturally adopt that which has the
strongest probability. But we adopt it only provisionally, be-

328 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
cause it is serviceable and helpful in further investigation. We
do not consider it as proved. But in any case it must be a
strictly logical deduction from the facts, or it does not deserve'
the name of " theory."
When a theory can be thus reasoned back to from the facts
however, without any other theory being possible, then the
theory becomes " demonstrated fact."
When in reasoning back from the facts we come to a gap in
our logic, which the facts so far as known cannot bridge over,
we may sometimes leap the chasm by means of some assump
tion. The theory which then results is only as true as this
assumption, which still remains to be proved, before conviction
can result. Such an assumption we call an " hypothesis," and
the resulting fabric of conclusion is known as a " speculation."
Speculation, then, becomes theory when hypothesis becomes
fact; and theory becomes demonstration when we become con
vinced that no other theory is possible.
If the assumption which we thus introduce has no reasonable
grounds for its probable truth to commend it; if it simply serves
as a mere device to bridge the chasm in order that the argument
may proceed ; then the entire result is no better than a mere
guess) and even though it may afterwards be found to be true,
it brings no honor, confers no fame, and has no place in science.
Science tolerates no guesi-work and has no respect for mere
guessers. Of this character are many of the early attempts of
the ancients to investigate nature, and this is the reason of their
utter barrenness of result, although as we now know, some of
them were partially true. The Ptolemaic system of astronomy,
with its cumbersome mechanism of cycles and epicycles, is a
good illustration ; a system not logically deduced from the
facts, but ingeniously fitted to them.
When, therefore, you hear, it may even be some very learned
classical scholar, whose position and attainments command re- '
spect for his opinions, remark — as such men have remarked —
that some of our modern theories are remarkably like the
guesses of Democritus and Lucretius — which is quite true; and
that they are, therefore, a mere revival of ancient guesses —
which is not true and by no means follows — tell him that when

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 329
a great many people are occupied in guessing, and guess all the
while all sorts of things, it may very well happen now and then
that someone may guess nearer right than others. Tell him
that when scientific men, however, speak in this year of our
Lord 1892 of a " theory," they speak of a logical fabric into
which no guesses enter; and that when they accept a theory as
" demonstrated," it is because it not only explains all the facts,
but also because we go back from the facts by a direct chain of
experimental reasoning, which there is no getting rid of, to the
theory. Tell him to try to overcome the disposition, so es
pecially unbecoming in one of his learning, of making state
ments which a little previous investigation would convince him
were untrue. To try and realize, if he can, that scientific
methods have made some progress in the last thousand years or ,
so, and that times have somewhat changed since the days of
Democritus and Lucretius — althpugh some of the men of that
early day do appear occasionally to revisit the scene of their
earthly and, in this respect, rather pernicious activities, and
interfere sadly in the scientific work of this nineteenth century.
After that, he will probably subside into silence and "historic "
meditation. And after all would not such words be justified, and are the
scientific theories of to-day no better than the idle guesses of
those "ingenious, excursive, yet self-fettered, Greek minds,
grovelling in the dust of phrases ; as vague in their notions of
things as they were rigidly definite in their forms of expressing
them"? In the words of Sir John Herschel: " There is a crea
ture, a very humble and troublesome one,, which reminds me of
the Greek mind. You might know it for a good while as only
a fidgety, restless) and rather aggressive companion, when be
hold, hop ! and it is away far off, having realized at one spring
a new arena and a new experience."
The method of science, as shown ' by the history of all the
discoveries to which it has led us, is then as follows : The
" trained scientific imagination," brooding over related facts
and keen to discern analogies, conceives a speculation. Not a
guess; not a wild ,and random fancy; but a reasonable suspicion
— it may even be an inspiration ! (Of the great and even ess«:n-

33° SCIENCE AND FAITH.
tial part which imagination thus plays in science we shall have
more to say hereafter.) The various hypotheses which this
speculation necessitates are then subjected to the keenest scru
tiny and by means of a logic so faultless that error in this direc
tion is well-nigh impossible, they are followed up to their logical
consequences. These consequences are then subjected to the
test of experiment, and thus each hypothesis is in turn either
rejected or accepted as fact. When the last hypothesis thus
disappears, we have a theory. This theory we then again test
by experiment and see if its conclusions are in accord with what
we know. We thus, in the words of Tyndall, " carry it forth
from the imagination into the world of sense, and see if the final
outcrop of the deductions be not the very phenomena which
ordinary knowledge and skilled experiment reveal. If in all
the multiplied varieties of these phenomena, including those of
the most remote and tangled description, this fundamental con
ception always brings us face to face with the truth ; if no con
tradictions to it be found in external nature ; if, moreover, it
has actually forced upon our attention phenomena which no-
eye had previously seen and which no mind had previously
imagined; if by it we are gifted with a power of prescience
which has never failed when brought to an experimental test;.
^uch a conception, which never disappoints us, but always lands
us on the solid shores of fact, must, we think, be something
more than a mere figment of the scientific fancy. In forming-
it, that composite and creative unity in which reason and imagi
nation are forever blent has, we believe, led us into a world not
less real than that of the senses, and of which the world of sense
itself is the suggestion and the justification."
You are all doubtless familiar with the "undulatory theory of
light," as it is called in physics, which asserts light to consist in
transverse vibrations of a wonderful fluid, which is called the
"ether of space." Those who are familiar with the development of
that theory and with the evidences for it will readily admit that it
is for them more than a theory — it is a demonstrated fact ! Sug
gested originally by analogy with sound, and originating there
fore as a mere speculation, it goes to facts for its verification.
Straight back from the facts of reflection ; refraction, single and

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 33 1
double; radiation, polarization, interference,, with all their attend
ant phenomena, however intricate or complex; the theory unravels
all, accounts for all, harmonizes all, explains all., From the facts
we go straight back, by an unbroken chain of experimental evi
dence, to the theory itself, without any other theory being possible.
Confirmations unsuspected crowd in on every hand. New facts
come to light and do but strengthen our conviction/ Finally, as
the prediction of the place and orbit of the unseen planet Neptune
by Leverrier and Adams put the seal and stamp of truth forever
upon the theory of gravitation, so the theory of light and the ex
istence of the ether received its final proof by the prediction of
conical refraction by Sir William Hamilton, based upon pure
mathematical deduction, before any phenomena of the kind had
ever been observed or suspected.
A doctrine which is the logical outcome, and the only logical
outcome, of all known facts; which encounters no phenomena of
which it does not furnish an explanation; from which every legit
imate deduction finds its verification in nature; " which points
to facts arid leads to discoveries which require for their exhibi
tion adjustments so delicate and conditions so difficult to secure
that, but for the clew thus furnished by theory, they would prob
ably have remained forever unknown ; which binds together
phenomena, the most diverse in their nature, by a connecting
link, the simplicity of which is without a parallel in the history
of science " ; such a doctrine is more than a theory, it compels
belief and forces conviction.
This, then, is the evidence upon which scientific truth is ac
cepted, and it certainly seems convincing enough. We believe
a thing when we are prepared to act as if it were true, and we
certainly do so act upon the conclusions of science every day
and every hour of our lives. But let us guard against taking the
degree of our conviction as a test of the validity of the evidence.
Upon what grounds do we believe ? I say, ultimately upon the
ground of faith and faith alone.,
Every conclusion in science is based upon one assumption.
An assumption which we cannot prove, to be true, and yet we
assume and believe that it is. That assumption is the uniformity
of nature. We assume and believe that the forces and laws of

332 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
nature are the same to-day, and will be the same to-morrow, that
they were yesterday. That like causes will always and have al
ways produced like effects. Without this assumption no science
is possible. Without it the simplest experiment loses its force
and value, and the whole structure of science falls to the ground.
And this assumption we cannot prove, but must take it on
trust ! And we do take it on trust without a murmur. Concern
ing it Helmholtz says, " Hier gilt nur der eine Rath — vertraue
und handle" ! and of it Bain says, " Our only error is in propos
ing to give any reason or justification, or to treat it as otherwise
than begged at the very outset:."
" What," some one may be tempted to exclaim, " does not
all our experience prove it to be true ? No proof of it ? Why
every new discovery is a fresh proof of it ! Every advance in
knowledge adds to our belief in it ! Every new confirmation of
theory by experiment; every particle of all our past knowledge
and every new addition that it receives; every new invention or
utilization of the powers of nature in the present and every such
utilization in the past; the daily experience of every human be
ing that lives or has lived, all go to prove it true ! It is the most
certain and the surest knowledge that we have in this world —
the one belief that we all feel we can rest upon — as solid and en
during as the earth itself ! "
Most true ! And yet the only " proof" we have, or can ever
have of it, is not direct but inferential, not complete but cumula
tive in its nature. That which can be added to is never com
plete. Until every atom in this universe is examined ; until
nothing remains to be known or investigated; until science has
said its last word and nature offers to man's searching gaze not a
single, unexplored nook in all the mighty realms of infinite space,
there will be still a loop-hole for doubt and the proof is not com
plete ! Thus the very basis of all our knowledge rests upon that
which cannot be proved. The demonstrations of science turn
out to be speculations merely, based upon an hypothesis. We
walk by faith and not by sight !
But how is it, then, you may ask, that our conviction is so
perfect ? I answer, because the experience of all mankind has
never once found the assumption to fail.

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 333
Let me illustrate the character of this proof. Babbage, in one
of the Bridgewater Treatises, instances his well-known " calcu
lating engine." This engine, if I remember rightly, can be so
arranged and adjusted that at every turn of the handle it will ex
pose to view a number greater, by say two, than the preceding.
Thus if the first number is two, the next will be four, the next
six, and so on. Now let a man turn the handle once every
second and keep turning, hour after hour, and day after day, till
the days run into months and the months into years. At every
turn he observes the invariable result, always greater by twathan
the next preceding. At the end of ioo years, what would be
the conviction of that man as to the next number which the next
turn would reveal ? Why he would stake his life without hesita
tion—what little remained of it, that is — upon the result, so sure
would he be. And on what grounds ? Simply upon the grounds
of experience ! The machine had never deceived his expecta
tion, ,or contradicted his involuntary assumption of the law upon
which it worked, and he assumes and believes that it never will.
And yet, on the last turn of the last day of the iooth year, that
machine, by reason of the very law of its mechanism, which the
man thinks he knows so well and really does not know at all,
would suddenly and without warning make a single break in the
sequence of the numbers of the series, and then would run on
forever as before. The man would probably be astonished at
such an unheard of result, but he would be obliged to confess
that, at bottom, his belief had been founded upon faith and faith
alone, and not upon proof. Such proof as he had was cumula
tive and grew stronger with every turn. But the real foundation
of his belief was faith in the uniform action of the machine, and
the only ground for this faith was limited experience. From
that which he knew he inferred that which he had no means of
knowing, and his very positive conviction had no better basis
than an assumption of uniformity, which he accepted only upon
faith. Now, we have in this world of ours no stronger proof than
this of the truth of any scientific conclusion. Indeed Bab
bage instances it to show how a miracle, that is, something con
trary to all previous experience, may still be strictly the result

334 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
of natural laws. To the man at the crank such a failure would
be a miracle; and yet the mind that devised the machine provided
beforehand for that very result. We have no stronger proof than
this, that the sun will rise to-morrow in the East, and if it did
not, it would be for us miraculous. Like the man in our illustra
tion, we would also, and upon the same grounds, stake our life
upon the result — and, like him, too, we might be wrong.
Such comparisons cannot in the slightest degree shake the
strength of our convictions, however. I do not intend them to
do so ; I simply instance them to show the character of the
proof upon which we rely. Still we believe ! We are ready to
peril life upon our belief !
But, not only is the proof of all scientific belief thus cumulative
in character, and therefore never complete, but it rests also upon
experience, which is necessarily limited, and therefore not
logically conclusive. Where reason fails, faith must step in to
fill the gap.
If anything is considered certain in this world, the truths of
pure geometry may lay claim to that distinction. Here at least
we seem to touch absolute truth. Even almighty power, it is
claimed, could not make the three angles of a plane triangle add
up greater or less than 180 degrees. But it is not so. Whether
man does or does not ever attain to absolute truth, one thing is
certain : he cannot know, and he can never logically claim that
he does. Even the truths of geometry rest upon " axioms," and
these axioms are only " self-evident," as we say — that is, we have
to believe them, because all our experience is in accord. But
since experience is limited, to suppose them absolutely true is to
assume, by faith, that which we cannot demonstrate. The proof
is not " rigid." An hypothesis intervenes, and geometry, with
all its conclusions, is but a speculation !
It is interesting and instructive to consider how our mere size
alone, which is only one of our many limitations, must ever in
fluence our experience. Suppose, for instance, as Helmholtz has
supposed, reasoning beings of only two dimensions to live upon
the surface of a sphere. The three angles of a triangle, in their
geometry, would not add up exactly 180 degrees, but would
always be greater. Such beings would have no conception of

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 335
parallel lines — any two of their shortest, or, as we call them,
" straight lines,'' sufficiently produced, would meet. The shortest
distance between two points would not be for them- a straight
line, but a curve. In fact, there would be for them no such thing
as a straight line, as we understand it. What a different geom
etry theirs would be from ours ! But yet it would be in exact ac
cord with all their experience, and they could claim, with equal
right, that its deductions were absolutely true. Their axioms
would be very different from ours, but equally " self-evident "
to them. They would be as certain of their propositions as we
are of ours, and they would have precisely the same justification.
They would be wrong, however, in claiming absolute truth ; and
so may we !
Indeed it is well worth while to dwell a little upon our
necessary limitations upon this earth, and the influence which
such limitations must have upon our knowledge.
Professor Crookes has given a very good illustration of this.
Let me give it as briefly as possible. Suppose that we were all
reduced to the size of the minutest living beings, but preserving
our mental faculties precisely as they are now, and the same
physical powers, in proportion to our bulk, which we now enjoy.
What a different world would this we live in then appear to be !
A cabbage-leaf would be for us a plain of many square miles in
extent. The huge glittering globes of dew upon its surface
would each pour out a dazzling light and fervent heat. If, urged
by curiosity, we should touch one of these mysterious orbs, it
would seize upon us, snatch us rudely from our feet, and whirl us
round and round upon its surface, lost and helpless. The surface
of the soil would be for us rugged and rocky beyond description.
Here and there would be vast Surfaces of the same kind of mat
ter as the huge and terrible whirling globes upon the cabbage-
leaf ; but instead, of rearing itself aloft in the shape of a huge
globe, it would appear to slope downwards in a vast concave,
ending in what would appear to be a level surface. If with a
vessel our little being should try to dip this substance up, he
would be unable to lift his vessel from the sticky surface, and if
he succeeded in this he would find the contents to stick to the
pail, and would not be able to dislodge it, except by violent

336 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
shocks, when the pail is inverted. If he should insert one end
of a pipe, open at both ends, into this peculiar substance which
we call water, it would at once run up the pipe to an immense
and unknown distance. What would be the physics of such a
creature ? To him liquids would not seek their own level ; their
surfaces would not be horizontal when at rest, and water would
be a sticky, viscid substance, like tar, and would run up-hill.
The law of gravitation would not be universal. He would even
have reason for' doubting the inertia of matter ; would be entirely
ignorant of the properties of heat, and could have no chemistry
at all ! And all this simply and solely by reason of the limita
tions imposed upon him by reason of his size !
Let us now pass from Lilliput to Brobdignag, and consider
how nature would appear to rational beings of enormous magni
tude. Capillary attractions of liquids would be utterly ignored
and unknown. The dew-drop and the curvature of water, when
bounded by a solid body, would be invisible. The behavior of
minute bodies, when thrown upon a globule of water, would
escape the attention of our Colossus. If he should stoop down
and take up a pinch of earth and rub it between his finger and
thumb, the gravel would smoke and melt beneath his .touch.
The very soil would turn to lava beneath his mighty tread. He
could hardly move without the liberation of a very inconvenient
amount of heat. Everything would be literally too hot to hold-
Granite rock and the earth's surface itself would have for him
the properties of phosphorus, and would explode if he but
scratched them with his finger nail. And all this, simply and
solely because of his size, and that alone.
Need I point the very obvious moral ? " If mere differences of
size," says Crookes, " can cause some of the most simple facts in
chemistry and physics to take on so different a guise ; if beings
infinitesimally small and immensely great would, simply as such,,
be subject to the delusions we have pointed out ; is it not pos
sible that we, in turn, may also, by mere virtue of our size, fall into
misrepresentations of phenomena from which we should escape,.
were we either larger or smaller ? "
I need hardly point out for your reassurance, that man's place
in nature seems in this respect at least to occupy the golden

SCIENCE AND FAITH. iyj
mien. Limited as he is in many other directions, the very fact
that he can state and apprehend such difficulties is one proof of
this. He stands midway between the two infinities, and his
glance goes far both up and down. He peers into the secret
places of the earth and reads the story of the past. With the
eye of the microscopic animalcule he scrutinizes even the very
molecules of matter, and actually measures the size of the atoms
themselves — the very smallest things this earth contains. He
looks out from his floating island, as it swims through space, and
with the vision of a demi-god, he counts the far-off suns ; resolves
the misty nebulae ; watches the formation of new worlds ; weighs
the planets and predicts their futures ; and analyzes the comet's
trailing robes. The universe seems indeed his to conquer and
to know — the great and glorious revelation which he is meant
to read ; with which no man can tamper, and which neither
tradition nor prejudice can obscure.
And like that other revelation of God to man, he reads it
with the eye of faith and faith alone. Reason indeed is his
guide, but faith — that faith which, resting upon experience,
nevertheless transcends experience, must be the rod and staff on
which he leans.
We see then, that our scientific proof, which we consider so
certain, is cumulative and therefore falls short of demonstration.
That our experience is necessarily limited, and therefore not
conclusive. That the foundation of all our knowledge is an
assumption, which, though highly probable, cannot be proved.
And yet we believe ! Our conviction is so perfect, that even
if exact and rigid demonstration were possible, it would not add
one particle to the positiveness of our conviction. The fact re
mains then, that we believe that which we cannot prove. The
scientist, no less than the theologian, rests his conclusions ulti
mately upon faith. Where reason halts, faith steps in and leads
us onward, and upon this basis of faith our most certain convic
tions are founded. We believe, without proof, that God's
methods are uniform and never change. That the mechanism
of this universe will never make a sudden break in the continuity
of its operations. That the Great Mechanic will never put us
to permanent intellectual confusion. We believe this, but with-

338 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
out proof. Nay, more ! we have to believe.it, for we have never
yet found our assumption to fail. Man is, therefore, not only a
reasoning, but essentially and in the constitution of his mind,
and by virtue of his very environment a believing being ! It
would seem that the highest and the best lesson that science
has to teach him, apart from all questions of utility or intellec-
ual satisfaction, is, that reason alone is powerless. Reason must
be supplemented by faith, and that faith can be trusted, when
sanctioned by reason, to lead to truth.
But this assumption of the uniformity of nature is by ho
means , the only one that science makes. Every advance in
science owes much to the imagination, and analogy is one of the
most fruitful means of discovery. But in thus working by anal
ogy and allowing imagination to help in the work of investigation,
every scientific investigator, consciously or unconsciously, assumes
also an identity of plan or structure in nature.
It is a very common and a very sad mistake, to suppose that
the pursuit of science is dry and wearisome ; that its results, how
ever true and even useful, have no delights for the imagination
and no lessons for the soul ; that its problems and pursuit are
deadening to the fancy. Do you suppose that a man, with the
heart of a man in his breast and the soul of a man in his body,
can give long days to dry calculations, and live laborious years,
and burn the midnight oil through weary nights, and be con
tent to win for all his toil only a few dry facts or a little transi
tory fame ? There can be no greater error than this. Man has
no greater inducement to the exercise of lofty imagination than
in the pursuit of science, and nowhere is such exercise more
fruitful, more beneficial, or more elevating. Science it is which
iteaches us to look below the surface of things, and to discern
in the familiar things of daily life hidden analogies which lift
them from the dust and link them with the stars.
Common and prosaic ! Why, it is the boast and glory of sci
ence, that it illumines and transfigures all it touches. Touched
by the sunlight of revealed law, long-hidden relations burst from
the darkness and point the way to wider knowledge, while the
common things of daily life take on a new beauty and glow with
a deeper significance.

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 339
It is the old, old story of" eyes and no eyes," or sight and
insight. " A primrose by the river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more,' '
was not said of the man of science. For him that little primrpse
sends down roots which net this mighty globe in their embrace
and stretches out invisible tendrils, which wind themselves about
the very stars of heaven.
In this respect the man of science is nature's truest poet ; and
not only poet, but teacher, priest, and prophet, too. Books he
finds in the running brooks, and sermons in stones. From hum
blest things he draws the highest lessons ; from trivial texts he
preaches the grandest sermons; and from a little sea-worn shell
unfolds the past and draws the inspiration and the gift of proph
ecy. From tiny insect track upon the hardened sands of long-
dried and vanished rivers, to circling planets and clustered suns,
he finds everywhere the manifestations of a power which counts
nothing as great, and to which nothing is insignificant. In this
grand continuity of nature the meanest worm that crawls the
earth may furnish subjects for contemplation so glorious " that
to work at them rejoices and encourages the feeblest, delights
and enchants the strongest " — subjects which by the immensity
of their range entrance the imagination; by the grandeur of their
conclusions elevate the mind; and by the sublimity of their con
ceptions exalt and ennoble the soul.
This is for man the noblest function of science. No mere
utility can bound its bounty, though to it man owes all he has
of comfort and of power. Exalting all his noblest instincts;
heightening all his purest pleasures; developing and strengthen
ing his intellectual faculties; it leads him on and ever on — from
fact to thought, from thought to principle, from cause to effect,
from effect to law, from law to hypothesis, from hypothesis to
speculation — ever onward and upward, till, face to face with the
unknown, he peers with bated breath and reeling brain far out
into the dark fathomless depths of infinitude itself.
Consider a drop of dew ! Think you the eye of science sees
nothing in it but so much hydrogen and oxygen ? Why, it is

34° SCIENCE AND FAITH.
a rich mine of speculation — a world in embryo — " with a load
of electricity sufficient to charge a thunder-cloud; the abode
of tremendous forces which would shake this building in their
unchained rage !" Ah, no ! "A woman's scolding," says Starr
King, " may be but a few puffs of articulate carbonic acid, but
her tears are liquid lightning" ! — "the type," says Prof. Pierce,
"of infinite beauty in the rainbow; the embodiment of infinite
love in the dewdrop; the storehouse of inexhaustible knowl
edge; the fitting vehicle of a divine baptism."
Or take that little word, the " sun." To the childish mind,
and possibly to many here present of a larger growth, it recalls,
perhaps, the image of a disc of cloudy fire, slowly sinking, large
and red, beyond some distant hill, or, shining it may be, in all
its dazzling splendor down from an unclouded sky. Simply this
and that is all ! But to the astronomer, what a grand, majestic
vision of a mighty mass of flaming clouds "and fiery tempests,
plunging madly through star- filled space, with all its radiant reti
nue of circling planets, flashes into being at the simple sound f
Thus science gives even this grand old mother-tongue of ours
an added power to move and thrill, and fills old words with new
power and grace and beauty !
Yes ! it is the old story of sight and insight after all ! " Let
a fool," says Starr King, " own a park and live in it, and he sees
only the shell of some trees and the surface of some visible
ground. Let Humboldt live in a porter's lodge by its gates,
and he will feel that he is riding on a rolling wheel among the
stars. " 'Twas a buzz of questions on every side,
' And what have you seen ? Do tell! ' they cried.
" The one with yawning made reply,
' What have we seen ? Not much have I !
Trees, mountains, meadows, groves and streams,
Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams.'
' ' The other, smiling, said the same,
But with face transfigured and eye of flame :
' Trees, mountains, meadows, groves and streams,
Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams ' ! "
Science lacking in ideality ! Why, consider for a moment
this wonderful ether of space, in the actual existence of which

SCIENCE AND XFAITH. 341
the man of science believes as implicitly as he does in his own.
Universal, omnipresent, all-pervading, filling all this illimitable
universe ! A fluid of such extreme tenuity that its resistance to
the motion of bodies moving in it is inappreciable, even when
those bodies are huge masses like the earth, moving at the rate
of ICO thousand feet per second ! So subtle and ethereal is this
marvellous fluid, that it passes through the densest solids as easi
ly as water flows through the meshes of a net ! So extremely
rare is it, that one cubic mile of it has a mass of only loomiiiontii of
a pound ! So very thin is it, that it surrounds the atoms, even of
the densest bodies, with an atmosphere, just as the air surrounds
the earth ! And yet it is so elastic, that it transmits a vibration
communicated to it at the rate of 188 thousand miles per second !
If an amount of it, equal in weight to a cubic inch of air, were
enclosed in a cubic inch of space, its pressure upon the confining
walls would be upward of 17 billions of pounds !
And this is sober fact, not fiction ! We have no better
grounds for believing in our own existence than in the actual
reality of this impalpable, invisible, all-pervading fluid. What a
striking refutation is this of the too prevalent impression that the
scientific mind is lacking in faith ! That the scientific training is
deadening to the imagination ! Why the physical investigator
lives in an invisible world and deals with the intangible. The
first lesson which science has to teach him is faith — faith in the
unseen. Behold, what incredible things he can swallow without
so much as even a wink, if they are only " scientific " ! What a
striking illustration, too, of the heights and depths to which the
study of nature can take us, when we rise by logical steps, from
the consideration of a fragment of glass and a beam of light, to
such a conception as this ! There is no better illustration of the
tendency of scientific thought from the concrete to the abstract,
from the material to the spiritual and the ideal. This wonderful
ether seems, indeed, the very soul itself of matter; its informing
and vital principle — no longer material, but ethereal; filling the
universe with light and energy; a fit emanation from the great
source of all energy, and in its yet unexplored properties and ac
tion lie hid, beyond a doubt, many of the weighty secrets of the
future. Light, heat, electricity, magnetism, gravitation, we

342 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
must look for their explanation to it. It would seem as though
man, with his present limitations, could go no farther, nor pene
trate deeper, into the mysteries of nature. Small wonder is it
that two of the prominent physicists of the day have made it the
basis of their daring speculations as to the physical possibility of
a future state for man, have found in it the unfading, ever-present
record and register of all the past, the bridge by which, when the
golden bowl is broken and the silver cord unloosed, conscious
existence in the future may cross even the dark gulf of death it
self, and pick up upon the golden shore the broken thread of life I
In truth, the man of science is " pavilioned amid infinite
beauty," and finds everywhere food for imagination and lofty
thought. He reads from the same book as the poet, and he
reads with an even deeper insight, too. From the earliest ages,
" while yet this world was young," man has recognized this all-
pervading ideality of nature and embalmed it in his ancient my
thologies. And what though to-day the dryad and the nymph
are gone from forest, tree and brook ! "Neptune with his trkons
and his sirens and his naiads ; Apollo and Minerva with the
muses ; Pan and Flora with the fauns and nymphs and flowers \
Venus with the graces ; Terminus and Vertumnus with the lares
and penates; Pluto and Proserpine; Uranus and Saturn; Jupiter
and Juno, with all the other ' dimly discerned human recognitions
of the universal ideality of nature' " — all, all are gone ! A laugh
ing sprite no longer peeps out at us from the chalice of every
flower, nor a shy nymph hide behind every tree. The fairies''
magic circle is no longer found in the wild wood ; Puck and
Titania no longer hold their midsummer night revels; and the
hobgoblin no longer plays his midnight pranks. Jack Frost has
ceased to touch our window-panes with magic brush, and Santa
Claus has made his last trip down our chimneys. The gods of
ancient Egypt, " whether incarnated in bull, or hawk, or cat, or
beetle, or vulture, or ibis, or crocodile," all of them so many wit
nesses to man's "ineradicable belief in a nature permeated with
intelligible thought, and ordered and governed by superior mind,"
have gone the way of all the rest! The old time fables of a
youthful world and the nursery tales and fancies of happy child
hood, alike have disappeared ! And what have we left ? Has.

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 343
science given us nothing in their place, and has poetry been
banished from meadow and from grove together with the gods of
Egypt and of Greece and Rome ? Ah, no ! A higher flight of
fancy and a deeper, clearer insight into, the meaning of it all is
ours to-day ! Go to the man of science and let him read you
the lessons of the brooks and stones. Follow him as he reads-
in the rocks the story of the past, or finds in the stars the
promise of the future. Let him tell you of a world of atoms in
mysterious unrest and palpitating with the energy of an unseen
power. Of an all-pervading subtle ether whose unceasing surges,
sweeping in awful majesty through the hushed realms of space,
roll up their crests even to the foot of the great white throne it
self ! Of an exquisite harmony, than which no pOet ever con
ceived a grander; a wondrous mechanism, sO vast in it's propor
tions, so harmonious in all its parts> so beneficent in all its adapta
tions, so imposing in the solemn grandeur of its mighty opera
tions that the soul is lifted in awe and adoration to the contem
plation of that unknown source it cannot help but own. Follow
him in his grand and lofty speculations until you hear with him,
in silent awe, the very music of the spheres^ and until the silent
pulses of the night find a responsive echo in your own sbul; and
then say if you can that science has no use for the imagination.
Ah, no ! Believe me, far beyond all others
" God Himself is the best poet,
And the real is His song."
Moreover, imagination is for man, not merely a source of
mental enjoyment and pleasure alone ; it is his most valuable
working instrument, bringing him as it does into direct contact
with the mind of God himself, and enabling him to learn His ways,
and to think, in some measure at least, His eternal thoughts;
It is worth while to consider at somewhat greater length the
important part which mere analogy, or " trained scientific
imagination," thus plays irt the discovery Of scientific truth. It
lies at the basis of every speculation and has led directly to
some of the most brilliant conquests of science. Science is full
of instances. Take one only, out of many examples which might be ad-

344 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
duced, of this remarkable convergence of apparently disconnected
facts. The botanist, says Prof. Winchell, " finds plants in which the
leaves are arranged upon the stem in definite mathematical re
lations. In some, the leaves stand opposite, or separated by
one-half the circumference. In others, they wind spirally round,
separated by 1-3, 2-5, 3-8, etc., of the limb upon which they jut
forth. These numbers are obtained by actual observation, and
there are plants whose leaf arrangements are known to corre
spond to each of these fractions. Now notice the relation which
subsists between the successive fractions. Each numerator and
each denominator is equal to the sum of the two preceding nu
merators and denominators. Knowing this relation, we may con
tinue the series. This has been done, and the plants have in
many instances been found to correspond. The leaf arrange
ment of every plant conforms to some fraction of this series, and
no plant whatever has ever been found, whose leaf arrangement
is represented by a fraction not given by it."
Now let us turn from the stars and meadows of earth to the
" infinite meadows of heaven." Neptune, the remotest planet,
revolves about the sun in about 60,000 days. Uranus, the next,
in 30,000 days or 1-2 the preceding. Saturn, the next, in 4,000
or 2-5, and so on. We may go through the system and find the
law expressing the relation of the times of revolution of the
planets, identical with that which determines the arrangement
of the leaves upon the stem of the plant. This wonderful
identity applies to the asteroids as well, and is so exact and
uniform in its application, that before the discovery of the planet
Neptune, the botanist in his garden might have predicted its
existence and its place with a precision as great as the astron
omer in his closet. Truly, the philosopher, no less than the
poet, ' ' faithful and far-seeing,
Seeth in the stars and flowers a part
Of the self-same universal being
Which is throbbing in his brain and heart."
Science, I say, is full of such analogies. And in the words of
Emerson, there is nothing lucky or capricious about them. They

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 345
are constant and pervade nature. " These are not the dreams of
a few poets, here and there, but man is an analogist and studies
relations in all objects. He is placed in the centre of beings,
and a ray of relation passes from every other being to him." It
is by just such analogies that the man of science has been led to
his greatest discoveries. Experiment and reason may test and
prove them, but analogy first suggests them. The doctrine of
light owes its discovery to its analogy with the propagation of
sound through the air. The inspired guesses of Kepler, guided
by this faith in the structure of the heavens, found their counter
part in nature ; and a falling apple suggested to Newton the
idea of a falling moon, and led to that grand generalization —
the grandest known to science — which embraces them all.
" The dreams of Pythagoras and Plato have been matched by
the numerical relations discovered by modern science. The
wisest physical philosophers," says no less an authority than the
late Prof. Pierce, of Cambridge, "have ever been the most rigid
observers ; they have penetrated through fact to the inmost
soul of nature ; and their proudest discoveries have invariably
been vast intellectual conceptions exhumed from the recesses
of the material world." And it is no less an authority than New
ton himself,— the acknowledged master — the man " whose
guesses were better than other men's discoveries" — to whom we
owe the hint that there is a certain style in the operations of
divine wisdom, in the perception of which philosophical sagacity
and genius seem chiefly to consist. In other words, that man is
the most successful investigator who best apprehends the system,
,the style of workmanship, of the Great Artificer — whose mind
is most in harmony with His mind and whose thoughts are most
nearly allied to His. This is it, " which is at once the expla
nation and the justification of that feeling of delight in the sights
of nature, and that sympathy with the forces of nature, which is
quite distinct from delight in beauty of form and color, though
often blended with it " — that " sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man."

346 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
Yes, in the mind of man ! " Have mountains, and waves,.
and skies," says Emerson, " no significance but what we con
sciously give them when we employ them as emblems of our
thoughts ? The word is emblematic. Parts of speech are meta
phors because the whole of nature is a metaphor of the human
mind. The laws of moral nature answer to those of matter as
face to face in a glass. The axioms of physics translate the
laws of ethics. This relation between the mind and matter is
not fancied by some poet, but stands in the will of God. It
appears to men or it does not appear. When in fortunate hours
we ponder this miracle, the wise man doubts if, at all other
times, he is not blind and deaf:
" Can these things be.
And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder ?
for the universe becomes transparent, and the light of higher
laws than its own shines through it. Because of this radical
correspondence between visible things and human thoughts,
savages, who have only what is necessary, converse in figures.
As we go back in history, language becomes more picturesque
until its infancy, when it is all poetry ; or all spiritual facts are
represented by natural symbols. The same symbols are found
to make the original elements of all languages. It has, more
over, been observed that the idioms of all languages approach
each other in passages of the greatest eloquence and power.
And as this is the first language so it is the last. This immedi
ate dependence of language upon nature, this conversion of an
outward phenomenon into a type of somewhat in human life,
never loses its power to affect us. It is this which gives that
piquancy to the conversation of a strong-natured farmer or
backwoodsman, which all men relish." And again — " The poet,
the orator, bred in the woods, whose senses have been nourished
by their fair and appeasing changes year after year, without de
sign and without heed, shall not lose their lesson altogether
in the roar of cities or the broil of politics. Long hereafter,
amidst agitation and terror in national councils — in the hour of
revolution — these solid images shall reappear in their morning
lustre as fit symbols and words of the thoughts which the pass-

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 347
ing events shall awaken. At the call of a noble sentiment,
again the woods wave, the pines murmur, the river rolls and
shines, and the cattle low upon the mountains., as he saw and
heard them in his infancy. And with these forms the spells of
persuasion, the keys of power, are put into his hands."
Yes, man is indeed an analogist. But in thus using analogy
as an instrument of research, and accepting imagination as a
guide to truth, the scientific man makes consciously or uncon
sciously two assumptions. He assumes, first, an identity of plan
or structure to run through creation; and he assumes, also, the
existence of intimate relations between the constitution of his
own mind and God's revelation of Himself in the works of
nature. This intimate relation it is which can alone justify
man's belief that his imaginings can find their counterpart in
nature. That such imaginings do find their counterpart in
nature, the entire history of science attests. So satisfied are we
of this fact, that the imagination of the physical investigator is
constantly at work to discern new analogies and find the start
ing-point for new speculations ; confident as he is that such
analogies are sure to prove fruitful in discovery, and that, in the
word of Prof. Pierce: " wild as are the flights of unchained fancy
and extravagant and even monstrous as are the conceptions of
unbridled imagination, still there is no human thought capable
of physical manifestation and consistent with the stability of
the physical world, which cannot be found incarnated in nature."
Thus, in the eloquent language of Prof. Tyndall: " Bounded
and conditioned by co-operant reason, imagination becomes the
mightiest instrument of the physical discoverer. Newton's
passage from a falling apple to a falling moon was a leap of
imagination. When William Thompson places the ultimate
particles of matter between his compass points, and applies to
them a scale of millimetres, it is an exercise of the imagination.
In fact, without this power, our knowledge of nature would be a
mere tabulation of co-existences and sequences. We should
still believe in the succession of day and night, of summer and
winter, but the soul of force would be dislodged from the universe;
causal relations would disappear, and with them that science
which is now binding the parts of nature into an organic whole."

348 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
Here, then, we have one of the " high priests of science "—
the man of the " prayer test," the most sturdy and outspoken
" materialist " of them all; who professes to find in matter alone'
the " promise and the potency of all" — frankly acknowledging
the dependence of science upon faith ; nay, more, claiming that
without it, the entire collection of sequences and conclusions
which constitute' science must fall apart like a bundle of sticks
without a string ! For, mark you, these two assumptions of the
identity of plan in nature, and of the correspondence of mind
with matter, which can alone justify the use of the imagination
in science, cannot be proved. We only think them true because
the outcome is justified by experience.
On such a foundation, then, of assumptions and admissions,
which have never, and can never, be demonstrated, whose sole
justification is the test of a limited experience, whose only proof
is in the nature of things cumulative, we have built up this vast
and splendid edifice which we call Science ! We fall down and
worship it, and say, Behold, it is founded upon the rock of cer
tainty ! It shall surely endure for ever ! Who can pull it down ?
And yet the rock it is founded on is the rock of faith.
We believe, then, in the absence of proof. We believe ! Aye,
we believe so firmly, so fully, so positively, that we would, and
indeed do, stake daily our lives, our fortunes, all we hold dear,
upon the absolute truth of a limited experience, and upon the
validity of conclusions founded upon an " if." So firmly, so fully,
so positively do we believe that even direct and rigid demonstra
tion, if it were attainable, could add to our conviction not one
particle of strength.
Who, then, can question our position, if we choose to go one
step farther, and add still one more assumption to those which
science accepts ? If we assume, in addition, that which all ex
perience confirms and all analogy suggests, that identity of plan
implies community of origin, that the correspondence of mind
and nature demands the recognition of a common source for both,
that " the divine image, photographed upon the soul of man from
the great centre of all light, is everywhere seen reflected from
the works of creation " ? That, in short, it may well be more than
a mere poetic fancy which sees in this earth

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 349
" but the shadow of Heaven, and things therein,
Each to the other like, more than on earth is thought " ?
Surely not the man of science ! Does his " certain knowledge "
rest upon so sure a foundation that he can call a halt just here ?
We go to analogy, as he does, and analogy suggests it. We
look abroad upon the works of nature, and they confirm it. We
look within, and the experience of every heart and the constitu
tion of every mind demand it. We go to all experience for an
answer, and we find that all experience is but
" an arch where thro'
Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades
Forever and forever as we move."
Finally, we live not only in a world where proof is merely
cumulative, where knowledge and experience are limited, where
faculties are restricted, but we live in a world of mystery, where
the imagination has often led to truth ; where great discoveries
have more than once foreshadowed themselves as happy fancies ;
where we ourselves, with our inherited and acquired powers of
mind and body, our " instincts " and our "prejudices" and our
" bias," our mental habits and our thoughts, with our intellects
and our emotional nature also, are a part of the nature we ex
plore. He is a bold man who to-day can deny to the inductions
of our emotional the validity due to the deductions of our intel
lectual nature. They both exist ; both have led to truth, and
both should work together in the quest of knowledge. Consider
for a moment the underlying mystery of the tangible world we
study and explore.
The physicist deals with matter and its laws and comes at
last face to face with the atom. And here, to the intellect alone,
what further backward step is possible ? " These atoms," says
Sir John Herschel, " how is it then that they ' obey ' law ? Are
they then sentient ? Do they know ? Can they remember ?
How else can they obey ? Conform to a fixed rule ! Then they
must be able to apply the rule." Their movements, their inter
changes, their " hates and loves," their " attractions " and repul
sions, their " correlations," are all determined in the very instant.
We speak of them — we have to speak of them, by a veritable in
duction of the imagination, which the man of science cannot im-

3SO SCIENCE AND FAITH.
peach, — in terms of intelligence, of guiding will, of purpose and
of mind. " There is," says Herschel, " no hesitation, no blunder
ing, no trial and error. A problem of dynamics which would
drive Lagrange mad is solved inslanter. A differential equation
which algebraically written out would belt the earth is integrated
in an eye-twinkle."
This mystery — this ever-present mystery, so common that
it almost ceases at times to impress us as a mystery at all — of
intelligence, not merely back of matter, but actually in matter,
stares us in the face wherever we turn. In such matter we may
well see the " promise and the potency of all." But when we
ask ourselves what these inflexible and unfailing laws of matter
really are, science is without an answer.
This is the lesson taught by every department of science. In
mathematics, " the very highest reach and proudest triumph of
analytic achievement, we find that our symbols overstep their
appointed purpose, and our equations traversing the mystic
region of ' imaginary ' expressions, transcend alike our interpreta
tion and our comprehension." *
In astronomy the law of gravitation explains many things,
but who shall make plain to us the mystery of that perpetual
miracle — gravitation ?
In chemisty " chemical affinity " and " atomic laws " give us
the clew to nature's handiwork, but who has ever written the
story of these mystic loves and hates, attractions and repulsions ?
Whence the " vital principle " in the seed ? Ask the botanist,
and what answer has he to give ?
Whence the wonderful properties of the ether upon which
the physicist pins his faith ? Can the physiologist or biologist
point out the secret springs of " life," or give the explanation of
" vital energy " ?
Go where you will, it is always the same. " Hemmed in by
the impassable limitations of a restricted experience and of a no
less restricted faculty of reason, we find the finite radius of our
science touching in every direction the shadowy universe of
* Wm. B. Taylor, " Physics and Occult Qualities," address before Philosophi
cal Society of Washington, 1882.

SCIENCE AND FAITH. 351
nescience; and where most we seem to know, there most we en
counter the cloudland of the unknowable." *
And in the nature of things, this must be so. Says Roger
Cotes in his Preface to the " Principia " : "Since causes naturally
recede in a continued chain from the more compounded to the
more simple, when the most simple is reached, no further back
ward step is possible. Hence an ultimate cause cannot admit of
any mechanical explanation, for if it could, it would by that very
'fact cease to be ultimate." So speaks the mathematician.
And again, the metaphysician, Sir William Hamilton : " As
each step carries us from the more complex to the more simple,
and consequently nearer to unity, we at last arrive at that unity
itself, at that ultimate cause which as ultimate cannot again be
conceived, as effect."
And again, the philosopher, Herbert Spencer : "It obviously
follows that the most general truth, not admitting of inclusion in
any other, does not admit of interpretation. Of necessity, there
fore, explanation must eventually bring us down to the inexpli
cable. The deepest truth which we can get at must be unac
countable." The deepest truth which we can get at must be unaccount
able! Such is the concurrent testimony of mathematician,
metaphysician, . theologian and philosopher, and such, I repeat,
is the lesson taught by every department of science. And is not
this precisely what we should expect to be the case in a universe
governed and ordered by superior mind ? Were this not the
case, we might expect the circle of our knowledge to return
again into itself, full, rounded, satisfying and complete. But
such is not the case. As we follow back the chain of causation
from complex to simple, we come to a point where continuity
suddenly ceases — the accountable invariably brings us face to
face with the unaccountable — certain knowledge but leads us
e.ver and always to the inexplicable — the known confronts us
ever with the unknown. Go in what direction we will, the
circle never returns within itself, but every path leads directly
to the incomprehensible — to a point where progress ends — and
* Wm. B. Taylor, " Physics and Occult Qualities," address before Philosophi
cal Society of Washington, 1882.

352 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
face to face with this ever-recurring mystery — that same imagi
nation which has led the man of science to more than one bold
and noble induction must perforce make , one more leap and
" look up through nature unto nature's God."
This I take to be the teaching of nature herself, apart from
any and all other revelation. As one wiser and more eloquent
than I has well put it: * " The mind thus baffled and bewildered
in its backward quest through illimitable series, in which, to its
dismay, is found at no great distance — whether in atom or in
universe — the chasm of a great and incomprehensible discon
tinuity, the inevitable transition to an entirely different order of
links from that made thinkable by experience, seems driven in
the last resort to the unifying induction of a single, first, eternal
and all-powerful cause.
" This ultimate and highest induction of scientific thought —
the inscrutable made absolute — is restful and satisfying. This
ultimate and highest induction, as highest and ultimate, cannot
be manipulated as a ' working hypothesis.' This ultimate and
highest induction, as such, cannot be subjected to the subse
quent verification of mathematical deduction. This ultimate
and highest induction detracts nothing from the certainty of
orderly sequence so irresistibly impressed upon us by every
deepening channel of research, but gives us rational ground and
guarantee of such unfailing regularity. This ultimate and high
est induction, accepting to the uttermost the mechanical inter
pretation of nature's administration, gives significance to our
conception of a regulated system, and accounts consistently for
the unfaltering obedience of all the countless atoms of the uni
verse to the reign of ' law ' by positing behind such law an Infi
nite Law-giver."
My friends, it seems to me that in these days of the " new
dark ages." ' When the bat comes out of his cave
And the owls are whooping at noon,"
the greatest debt we owe to science, apart from all she has done
or is doing for our bodily comfort and our mental development,
is for the lesson of faith she is thus ever teaching us — faith in
* Wm. B. Taylor — in address already quoted.

SCIENCE AND FAITH.. 353
the invisible and intangible. The lesson that reason and faith,
intellect and emotion, must ever go hand in hand ; that poetry
and science are twin sisters; the lesson that man can never
feel sure of attaining absolute knowledge — that the "pure truth"
for which he yearns is not for him ; that just" so surely as he
walks by reason, and, by reason only, just so surely he must
reach a point where reason halts and waits on faith. That the
only essential difference between scientific and Christian faith
is, that while the one finds its justification in the limited experw
ence of the bodily senses, the other finds, in addition, a higher
justification in the experience of the soul, and that both experi
ences are trustworthy guides.
And in view of this, is it not indeed well for man that abso
lute knowledge should be for him thus unattainable? That he
should be gifted with this
" Spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star
Beyond the utmost verge of human thought " ?
That he should ever seek and strive and long for truth, and be
forever doomed to seek and strive and long in vain ? In the
memorable words of one of Germany's great poets and scholars,
" If God held all truth shut in His right hand, and in His left
nothing but the ever-restless instinct for truth, though with the
condition of forever and forever erring, and should say to me,
Choose! I would bow' reverently to His left hand, and say, Father,
give ! Pure truth is for Thee alone ! "
Why, " to know everything would be to learn nothing ; to
be deprived of the highest, purest pleasures this earth affords ;
to have no hopes, no lofty desires, with consciousness worthless
and volition a farce ! " But more than all this, and beyond all this,
it would be to lose the daily testimony of science to the efficacy
of faith [the strongest proof of the validity of the Christian belief].
For how does our Christian belief essentially differ from the
scientific ? Like science, it has reason for its guide, and like
science, too, it finds that reason must go hand-in-hand with
faith. This faith, . like science, it bases on experience and on
cumulative proof no whit inferior ; and like science, too, analogy
leads it on to speculations which are found to accord with all we

354 SCIENCE AND FAITH.
know. But here, and in this one thing, it differs ; it adds faith
to reason, and to faith love and hope— that hope which dares
to feel, " altho' no tongue can prove,
That every cloud that spreads above,
And veileth love, itself is love " ;
that hope which, amidst all the wranglings of science and all
the polemics of theology, can look up and say, with all the
serenity of a confidence that cannot be shaken :
" Our little systems have their day ;
They have their day, and cease to be :
They are but broken lights of Thee,
And Thou, O Lord, art more than they " ;
that hope which, like science, is based upon faith, but which,
unlike science, transcends experience ; that hope which science
does not impart, and which science cannot destroy' — which, rising
triumphant from the depths of sorrow and despair and the ashes
of bereavement, can gaze unterrified through even the dark por
tals of death itself, and, with all the confidence of radiant con
viction, exclaim :
" That nothing walks with aimless feet,
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete."

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