enabled to transmute the mythological thought into a scientific estimate; our superior knowledge thus disclosing to us an infinite concatenation of causes and effects, whereby we are led from one point to another along the entire network of nature; and which, in point of intrinsic value, is really superior to the discordant elements of an earlier age, proportionately as truth is better than error-a progressive condition, in fact, in which we pass from the irregular and disorganized forces of an unscientific age, to the systematic application of principles discovered through patient and diligent research. Syllogistical theses have had their day: it is now the season of scientific experiment. To some extent, it is true that we live in the same world as that inhabited by our ancestors, and yet so changed are our conditions. that it is equally true that the present measure of scientific attainments, if predicted a thousand years ago, would have sounded much more like a chapter from the Arabian Nights' Entertainments than the prophetic promise of a reality. But, says some one, the question still remains an open one, whether scientific investigation, in spite of all its advantages, does not tend to the disintegration of all religious ideas, thus inculcating, in place of the lofty idealism of Christianity, a merely unsatisfactory doctrine of Materialism. In a measure this objection has already been anticipated, but, in order to answer it more fully, it may not be amiss to examine the foundations on which the possibility of such an objection is founded. To accomplish this, it seems to us, the first and most important consideration consists in ascertaining clearly what we mean by the terms Nature and Religion. In this connection, unless we can so far imitate the Socratic form of argument as to understand, in something like a definite form, the meaning of the subjects we are discussing, it would be possible to go on forever without in the least effecting our purpose. Indeed, it is the most obvious thing in the world that as long as these terms signify to the scientific mind one thing, and to the unscientific mind quite another, we may go on ad infinitum exchanging our intellectual artillery, and in the end find that it has all been to no purpose. As an example of this, we have only to look at the extent and fruitlessness of theological discussions; thereby noticing that their irreconcilable differences proceed quite as much from mutual misunderstanding as they do from any inherent antagonism in the opinions discussed. Each polemic confines himself to his own partisans, and makes no impression on his adversary. In fact, so extremely surperficial and fruitless have these discussions been, that even if we consider Martial's sarcasm, "Iras et verba locant," too severe in its application to these disputants, it still remains true that, in their desire to quarrel more about the shadow than the substance, the result has been the production of those manifold isms which so sorely perplex the minds of ordinary observers; and which, although in their petty doctrinal disputes they have invested the fair and beautiful form of Christianity with a theological garment of as many colors as Joseph's coat, in their last analysis resolve their differences into an unnecessary war of words, rather than into an actual contest of principles. "Men's tongues are voluble, And endless are the modes of speech, and far BRYANT'S "Homer-Iliad," Book XX, I Far be it from us, however, to fall into a similar error; while, the more fully to illustrate this branch of the argument, we will cite a good example furnished by Professor Blackie in his masterly essay on Socrates. It reads thus: "Suppose I get into an argument with any person as to whether A or B, or any person holding certain opinions, manifesting certain feelings, and acting in a certain way, is a Christian. I say he is, my contradictor says he is not; how then shall we settle the difference? Following the example of Socrates, the best procedure certainly will be to ask him to define what he means by a Christian. Suppose then he answers, a Christian is a religious person who believes in the Nicene creed. immediately reply, the Nicene creed was not sent forth till the year 325 after Christ; what then do you make of the thousands and hundreds of thousands of Christians who lived before that? To this objection the answer of course will be that the Nicene creed, though not set forth in express articles, did virtually exist as a part of the living faith of all true Christians. Then, if I doubt this, I say, was Origen a Christian, was Justin Martyr a Christian? Are you sure these two fathers believed every article of that creed? My opponent now, in all likelihood, not being profoundly versed in patristic lore, is staggered; and I proceed, we shall suppose, to cite some passages from some of the ante-Nicene Fathers which imply dissent from some of the articles of the orthodox symbol. He is then reduced to the dilemma of either denying that this Father was a Christian, or (as that will scarcely be allowable) widening his original definition so as to include a variety of cases which, by the narrowness of the terms, were excluded. I then go on to test the comprehensiveness of the new definition in the same way; and if I find that it contains any elements which belong to the species and not to the genus, any peculiarities, say, of modern Calvinisn, or of mediæval Popery, that do not belong to the general term 'Christianity,' I push him into a corner in the same way as before, till I bring out from his own admissions a pure and broad definition of the designation of Christian, as opposed to Heathen, Jew, or any other sort of religious professor." ¶ Such was the Socratic method of arriving at a sound basis on which to reason; and we can easily see from the example that, in proportion as the definition is widened, so far does there exist a possibility of ignoring all minor differences, and giving to the term involved a breadth of meaning which it did not at first seem to possess. Correspondingly, it is only by an enlargement and expansion of the terms Nature and Religion that the scientific mind can hope to be fairly understood. For instance, if, from a theological standpoint, we mean by the term Nature merely the result of a creative fiat, as represented in the Mosaic cosmogony; and, from a scientific point of view, mean by the same term a whole series of geological changes so vast that even the most stupendous intellectual efforts fail to estimate their immensity; or, again, when speaking of Religion, if we mean, on the one hand, a mere assent to certain creeds and forms of ceremonial worship, and, on the other hand, mean, by the same term, that deeply seated sentiment of reciprocity between the creature and the Creator which, although it embraces all creeds and formulas, assigns to them the position of minor auxiliaries, or, at best, mere "Four Phases of Morals," by JOHN STUART BLACKIE, Professor of Greek in the University of Edinburgh. adumbrations of the truth-it is clear, in the face of these facts, that there can be no common ground on which we may effect a reconciliation, or even an understanding. Not so, however, when once we have stripped the matter of all extraneous issues, and thus find that there is a common ground on which Science and Religion may meet, not as antagonists, but as twin sisters, both having equal claims to a celestial birth, and both, in their different functions, tending to elevate man into a condition of wisdom and happiness. In its highest and profoundest sense, science as truly as religion participates in that beautiful sentiment: 66 'Be worthy of death; and so learn to live That every incarnation of thy soul In other realms, and worlds, and firmaments, In the consciousness of a strictly scientific man there is nothing which precludes the possibility of his being a religious man also. Of course, the quality of his religion must necessarily differ very materially from that of the Oi nollo; but this does not deny the possible coexistence of the religious with the scientific sentiment No; the fact is (in spite of the many confused ideas on the subject), the principles which actuate a pure religion, and the principles which actuate a noble and useful science, although not identical, are certainly not antagonistic or even inimical. In these days there is much said about the atheistical and disastrous tendencies of modern science; but to those who think calmly and profoundly on the subject, the alarm is a false one; or at least one in which the truth is so dreadfully distorted that we cannot help pitying the strait to which theologians are reduced when they are so far com |