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In this chapter a chronology different from that generally accepted is
given: at the beginning of the chapter both the ordinary chronology,
and that which is here followed, are stated in a brief compendium. The
story here followed runs thus: the first chapter of Ezra tells of the return
under Cyrus (spoken of in chapter XIII. of this work): the history after
this for 50 or 60 years is a blank (the second and third chapters of Ezra
being erroneous history): but the Psalms will in great measure fill up this
blank space. The book of Ezra, from chapter iv. 6 onwards, is genuine
history, and relates to the reigns of Xerxes (Ahasuerus), Artaxerxes
Longimanus, Darius Nothus, and Artaxerxes Mnemon. The return of
Zerubbabel was in the reign of Darius Nothus, and the prophets Haggai
and Zechariah prophesied at that time: many of the Psalms, notably the
107th and 118th, are probably of the time of Zerubbabel. The book of
Nehemiah is also genuine history; and the Antiquities of Josephus and the
papyri of Elephantinè supply interesting elements to fill up the narrative.
This reading of history is supported by argument. At the close of the
chapter the books of Job, Ecclesiasticus, Wisdom, etc., are mentioned

335-367

L

CHAPTER 1

THE UNIVERSE IN RELATION TO MAN

HUMAN history is a brief fragment. Time eternal, as it must succeed the present day, so must have preceded it; space infinite lies around us. Can space and time ever be without material contents? However this may be, it is hundreds of millions of years, if we may trust the astronomers and physicists, that the stars of heaven have been gathering splendour and pouring out their light into the regions of space; and even if we take the history of our earth alone, geologists will certainly not be content with a million years to account for the strata which must have been deposited in the waters of the ocean, and which are now raised up into mountain ranges. What, compared to these vast realities, is human history? It is but six or eight thousand years of the past that are illuminated for us by written records, for the most part very imperfectly; and it is one of the smallest and most insignificant of the orbs of space that has been the scene of all human action, from first to last.

It is true that there is, even on the first showing of the matter, something to be said in honour of historical study, when compared with the science of the external universe. In human history we find beings whom we may love; even in the sorrows and tragedies of human life a deep interest is often involved; hope is caught and cherished in our hearts from the hopes of the human beings who have preceded us; reverence is felt for brave souls, who have acted and suffered heroically. These are sentiments which the astronomer, the physicist, or the geologist may feel as a man ; but they are not written for him, according to his present knowledge at all events, in the science which he studies; if he wishes to feel his heart warmed, his sympathies strengthened, he will find the fuel of such fire in the pages of history, but scarcely will he find it in the sciences of external observation or in the calculations of the intellect.

Yet, when we have said all that we can in favour of historical study, a question remains behind, which may damp our ardour

M. D. A.

1

again. Is not the race of man, no less than the individual man, transitory? Is there not this permanent cloud hanging over us, that we must all disappear into nothingness, first each one of us individually, and then after many ages the entire race of men ? How many races of living beings, strong in their own day and generation, have disappeared from the surface of the earththe ichthyosaurus, the mammoth, the moa of New Zealand--which last, even two centuries ago, is said to have been a still living creature! Many, many other less notable species of animals have flourished on this earth for ages, but have now departed, and can never be revived again. May not mankind vanish, even as the others have vanished? and we may remember that the eminent physicist Helmholtz predicted the extinction of the solar light and heat, without which earthly life can hardly exist. Can mankind exist for ever?

A certain answer to such a question as this might be supplied from the Christian religion, with its promise of a new heaven and new earth, were we to take that promise literally; but in any such literal acceptance we should be deserting wholly that natural human understanding on which we rely for all our ordinary actions; and it will not be history in that case which will be our guide, but a scheme of things independent of history. It will be the task of the present work, in subsequent chapters, to show that the Christian religion is really the solvent of the historical problem, elevating history so as to make it the more inspired companion of physical science; but not the Christian religion in its literal acceptation; the Christian religion interpreted by the light of the experience we have gathered since the time when that religion first began, nearly nineteen centuries ago.

Our present problem is to find a scheme of thought which shall give an explanation, not quite inadequate, of the state of things in which we live; so far, at least, as to satisfy our conscience, and not to clash violently with our understandings. The physical universe, whatever else it may be, is a cradle in which human history lies; and it is possible that, as physical science influences and colours human history, so likewise the elements of human history may be able to impart a colour and a warmth, a sympathetic emotion, to parts of the physical universe where at present we do not suspect the presence of life at all. If this be so, human history will indeed be a talisman of power. Let us consider the nature of it more closely.

That which first strikes the inquirer, when he pays regard

to those purposes, struggles and thoughts, which fill the history of man, is the exceeding subtlety of the field, when compared with that which physical science tries to compass. Physical science, it is true, has its subtle methods, among which the theorems of mathematics are preeminent; but no mathematical theorem presents that mixture of plain direct reasoning with elusive side-currents, dimly conjectured and uncertain, which is the ordinary staple of history. Among the greatest themes of history are the characters of men; and if the characters of men are often a puzzle to us in the intercourse of common everyday life, how much more must they be so when our whole knowledge of them is derived from the writings of fallible, often prejudiced and ignorant, witnesses! Therefore, in spite of the vastly greater compass of physical science both in time and space, history presents for our decision more doubtful, more difficult problems, than any part of physical science does.

But the next thing we observe, when we study the history of man (and more notably at the present day than ever before) is that the history of man introduces to our notice a principle of government, in a sense in which physical science does not. In physical science we have intermingling causes, forces which combine in different proportions and produce diversified results; but physical science, in the strict sense of the word, excludes the consideration of purposes, aims and ends; whereas government is essentially concerned with purposes, aims and ends.

Looking however into the matter more closely, we observe that no sharp severance can be made between the topics of physical science on the one side, and the topics into which government enters as a necessary constituent on the other side. The physical side of life can never be ignored; and hence living things cannot be excluded from physical science; yet all living things are organised; and organisation implies government. The apportioning of forces towards an end is government, and the apportioning of forces towards an end is seen in the lily and the oak-tree, in a way in which it is not seen in the mountain torrent or in the movements of the clouds or in the revolution of the planets round the sun. The lily and the oak-tree draw nutriment out of the air, the water, and the earth in such quantities and proportions as will best nourish the lily or the oak-tree to its perfection; we know by what channels this is done, but we cannot measure the forces employed in the operation, or say why the plant chooses certain elements for its nurture and rejects others. We

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