{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_2934/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_2934","id":"gutenberg_2934","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2934","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - British","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Science - Biology","Science"],"text":"Produced by Amy E. Zelmer\n\n\n\n\n\nON THE ADVISABLENESS OF IMPROVING NATURAL KNOWLEDGE*\n\n\nBy Thomas H. Huxley\n\n[1]\n\n\n\nThis time two hundred years ago--in the beginning of January,\n1666--those of our forefathers who inhabited this great and ancient\ncity, took breath between the shocks of two fearful calamities: one not\nquite past, although its fury had abated; the other to come.\n\nWithin a few yards of the very spot on which we are assembled, so the\ntradition runs, that painful and deadly malady, the plague, appeared in\nthe latter months of 1664; and, though no new visitor, smote the people\nof England, and especially of her capital, with a violence unknown\nbefore, in the course of the following year. The hand of a master has\npictured what happened in those dismal months; and in that truest of\nfictions, 'The History of the Plague Year', Defoe shows death, with\nevery accompaniment of pain and terror, stalking through the narrow\nstreets of old London, and changing their busy hum into a silence broken\nonly by the wailing of the mourners of fifty thousand dead; by the woful\ndenunciations and mad prayers of fanatics; and by the madder yells of\ndespairing profligates.\n\nBut about this time in 1666, the death-rate had sunk to nearly its\nordinary amount; a case of plague occurred only here and there, and\nthe richer citizens who had flown from the pest had returned to their\ndwellings. The remnant of the people began to toil at the accustomed\nround of duty, or of pleasure; and the stream of city life bid fair to\nflow back along its old bed, with renewed and uninterrupted vigour.\n\nThe newly kindled hope was deceitful. The great plague, indeed, returned\nno more; but what it had done for the Londoners, the great fire, which\nbroke out in the autumn of 1666, did for London; and, in September of\nthat year, a heap of ashes and the indestructible energy of the people\nwere all that remained of the glory of five-sixths of the city within\nthe walls.\n\nOur forefathers had their own ways of accounting for each of these\ncalamities. They submitted to the plague in humility and in penitence,\nfor they believed it to be the judgment of God. But, towards the fire\nthey were furiously indignant, interpreting it as the effect of the\nmalice of man,--as the work of the Republicans, or of the Papists,\naccording as their prepossessions ran in favour of loyalty or of\nPuritanism.\n\nIt would, I fancy, have fared but ill with one who, standing where I\nnow stand, in what was then a thickly peopled and fashionable part of\nLondon, should have broached to our ancestors the doctrine which I now\npropound to you--that all their hypotheses were alike wrong; that the\nplague was no more, in their sense, Divine judgment, than the fire was\nthe work of any political, or of any religious, sect; but that they were\nthemselves the authors of both plague and fire, and that they must look\nto themselves to prevent the recurrence of calamities, to all appearance\nso peculiarly beyond the reach of human control--so evidently the result\nof the wrath of God, or of the craft and subtlety of an enemy.\n\nAnd one may picture to one's self how harmoniously the holy cursing of\nthe Puritan of that day would have chimed in with the unholy cursing and\nthe crackling wit of the Rochesters and Sedleys, and with the revilings\nof the political fanatics, if my imaginary plain dealer had gone on\nto say that, if the return of such misfortunes were ever rendered\nimpossible, it would not be in virtue of the victory of the faith\nof Laud, or of that of Milton; and, as little, by the triumph of\nrepublicanism, as by that of monarchy. But that the one thing needful\nfor compassing this end was, that the people of England should second\nthe effort of an insignificant corporation, the establishment of which,\na few years before the epoch of the great plague and the great fire, had\nbeen as little noticed, as they were conspicuous.\n\nSome twenty years before the outbreak of the plague a few calm and\nthoughtful students banded themselves together for the purpose, as they\nphrased it, of \"improving natural knowledge.\" The ends they proposed\nto attain cannot be stated more clearly than in the words of one of the\nfounders of the organization:--\n\n\"Our business was (precluding matters of theology and state affairs) to\ndiscourse and consider of philosophical enquiries, and such as related\nthereunto:--as Physick, Anatomy, Geometry, Astronomy, Navigation,\nStaticks, Magneticks, Chymicks, Mechanicks, and Natural Experiments;\nwith the state of these studies and their cultivation at home and\nabroad. We then discoursed of the circulation of the blood, the valves\nin the veins, the venae lacteae, the lymphatic vessels, the Copernican\nhypothesis, the nature of comets and new stars, the satellites of\nJupiter, the oval shape (as it then appeared) of Saturn, the spots\non the sun and its turning on its own axis, the inequalities and\nselenography of the moon, the several phases of Venus and Mercury, the\nimprovement of telescopes and grinding of glasses for that purpose,\nthe weight of air, the possibility or impossibility of vacuities and\nnature's abhorrence thereof, the Torricellian experiment in quicksilver,\nthe descent of heavy bodies and the degree of acceleration therein,\nwith divers other things of like nature, some of which were then but new\ndiscoveries, and others not so generally known and embraced as now they\nare; with other things appertaining to what hath been called the New\nPhilosophy, which from the times of Galileo at Florence, and Sir Francis\nBacon (Lord Verulam) in England, hath been much cultivated in Italy,\nFrance, Germany, and other parts abroad, as well as with us in England.\"\n\nThe learned Dr. Wallis, writing in 1696, narrates in these words, what\nhappened half a century before, or about 1645. The associates met\nat Oxford, in the rooms of Dr. Wilkins, who was destined to become a\nbishop; and subsequently coming together in London, they attracted\nthe notice of the king. And it is a strange evidence of the taste for\nknowledge which the most obviously worthless of the Stuarts shared with\nhis father and grandfather, that Charles the Second was not content with\nsaying witty things about his philosophers, but did wise things with\nregard to them. For he not only bestowed upon them such attention as he\ncould spare from his poodles and his mistresses, but being in his usual\nstate of impecuniosity, begged for them of the Duke of Ormond; and, that\nstep being without effect, gave them Chelsea College, a charter, and\na mace: crowning his favours in the best way they could be crowned, by\nburdening them no further with royal patronage or state interference.\n\nThus it was that the half-dozen young men, studious of the \"New\nPhilosophy,\" who met in one another's lodgings in Oxford or in London,\nin the middle of the seventeenth century, grew in numerical and in\nreal strength, until, in the latter part, the \"Royal Society for the\nimprovement of Natural Knowledge\" had already become famous, and had\nacquired a claim upon the veneration of Englishmen, which it has ever\nsince retained, as the principal focus of scientific activity in our\nislands, and the chief champion of the cause it was formed to support.\n\nIt was by the aid of the Royal Society that Newton published his\n'Principia'. If all the books in the world, except the Philosophical\nTransactions, were destroyed, it is safe to say that the foundations of\nphysical science would remain unshaken, and that the vast intellectual\nprogress of the last two centuries would be largely, though\nincompletely, recorded. Nor have any signs of halting or of decrepitude\nmanifested themselves in our own times. As in Dr. Wallis's days, so\nin these, \"our business is, precluding theology and state affairs,\nto discourse and consider of philosophical enquiries.\" But our\n\"Mathematick\" is one which Newton would have to go to school to\nlearn; our \"Staticks, Mechanicks, Magneticks, Chymicks, and Natural\nExperiments\" constitute a mass of physical and chemical knowledge, a\nglimpse at which would compensate Galileo for the doings of a score of\ninquisitorial cardinals; our \"Physick\" and \"Anatomy\" have embraced such\ninfinite varieties of being, have laid open such new worlds in time and\nspace, have grappled, not unsuccessfully, with such complex problems,\nthat the eyes of Vesalius and of Harvey might be dazzled by the sight of\nthe tree that has grown out of their grain of mustard seed.\n\nThe fact is perhaps rather too much, than too little, forced upon one's\nnotice, nowadays, that all this marvellous intellectual growth has a no\nless wonderful expression in practical life; and that, in this respect,\nif in no other, the movement symbolized by the progress of the Royal\nSociety stands without a parallel in the history of mankind.\n\nA series of volumes as bulky as the 'Transactions of the Royal Society'\nmight possibly be filled with the subtle speculations of the Schoolmen;\nnot improbably, the obtaining a mastery over the products of mediaeval\nthought might necessitate an even greater expenditure of time and of\nenergy than the acquirement of the \"New Philosophy\"; but though such\nwork engrossed the best intellects of Europe for a longer time than has\nelapsed since the great fire, its effects were \"writ in water,\" so far\nas our social state is concerned.\n\nOn the other hand, if the noble first President of the Royal Society\ncould revisit the upper air and once more gladden his eyes with a sight\nof the familiar mace, he would find himself in the midst of a material\ncivilization more different from that of his day, than that of the\nseventeenth was from that of the first century. And if Lord Brouncker's\nnative sagacity had not deserted his ghost, he would need no long\nreflection to discover that all these great ships, these railways, these\ntelegraphs, these factories, these printing-presses, without which the\nwhole fabric of modern English society would collapse into a mass of\nstagnant and starving pauperism,--that all these pillars of our State\nare but the ripples, and the bubbles upon the surface of that great\nspiritual stream, the springs of which, only, he and his fellows were\nprivileged to see; and seeing, to recognise as that which it behoved\nthem above all things to keep pure and undefiled.\n\nIt may not be too great a flight of imagination to conceive our noble\n'revenant' not forgetful of the great troubles of his own day, and\nanxious to know how often London had been burned down since his time,\nand how often the plague had carried off its thousands. He would have to\nlearn that, although London contains tenfold the inflammable matter that\nit did in 1666; though, not content with filling our rooms with woodwork\nand light draperies, we must needs lead inflammable and explosive gases\ninto every corner of our streets and houses, we never allow even a\nstreet to burn down. And if he asked how this had come about, we should\nhave to explain that the improvement of natural knowledge has furnished\nus with dozens of machines for throwing water upon fires, any one of\nwhich would have furnished the ingenious Mr. Hooke, the first \"curator\nand experimenter\" of the Royal Society, with ample materials for\ndiscourse before half a dozen meetings of that body; and that, to say\ntruth, except for the progress of natural knowledge, we should not\nhave been able to make even the tools by which these machines are\nconstructed. And, further, it would be necessary to add, that although\nsevere fires sometimes occur and inflict great damage, the loss is very\ngenerally compensated by societies, the operations of which have been\nrendered possible only by the progress of natural knowledge in the\ndirection of mathematics, and the accumulation of wealth in virtue of\nother natural knowledge.\n\nBut the plague? My Lord Brouncker's observation would not, I fear, lead\nhim to think that Englishmen of the nineteenth century are purer in\nlife, or more fervent in religious faith, than the generation which\ncould produce a Boyle, an Evelyn, and a Milton. He might find the mud\nof society at the bottom, instead of at the top, but I fear that the\nsum total would be a deserving of swift judgment as at the time of the\nRestoration. And it would be our duty to explain once more, and this\ntime not without shame, that we have no reason to believe that it is the\nimprovement of our faith, nor that of our morals, which keeps the plague\nfrom our city; but, again, that it is the improvement of our natural\nknowledge.\n\nWe have learned that pestilences will only take up their abode among\nthose who have prepared unswept and ungarnished residences for them.\nTheir cities must have narrow, unwatered streets, foul with accumulated\ngarbage. Their houses must be ill-drained, ill-lighted, ill-ventilated.\nTheir subjects must be ill-washed, ill-fed, ill-clothed. The London\nof 1665 was such a city. The cities of the East, where plague has an\nenduring dwelling, are such cities. We, in later times, have learned\nsomewhat of Nature, and partly obey her. Because of this partial\nimprovement of our natural knowledge and of that fractional obedience,\nwe have no plague; because that knowledge is still very imperfect and\nthat obedience yet incomplete, typhus is our companion and cholera our\nvisitor. But it is not presumptuous to express the belief that, when\nour knowledge is more complete and our obedience the expression of our\nknowledge, London will count her centuries of freedom from typhus\nand cholera, as she now gratefully reckons her two hundred years of\nignorance of that plague which swooped upon her thrice in the first half\nof the seventeenth century.\n\nSurely there is nothing in these explanations which is not fully borne\nout by the facts? Surely, the principles involved in them are now\nadmitted among the fixed beliefs of all thinking men? Surely, it is true\nthat our countrymen are less subject to fire, famine, pestilence,\nand all the evils which result from a want of command over and due\nanticipation of the course of Nature, than were the countrymen of\nMilton; and health, wealth, and well-being are more abundant with us\nthan with them? But no less certainly is the difference due to the\nimprovement of our knowledge of Nature, and the extent to which that\nimproved knowledge has been incorporated with the household words of\nmen, and has supplied the springs of their daily actions.\n\nGranting for a moment, then, the truth of that which the depreciators of\nnatural knowledge are so fond of urging, that its improvement can only\nadd to the resources of our material civilization; admitting it to be\npossible that the founders of the Royal Society themselves looked for\nno other reward than this, I cannot confess that I was guilty\nof exaggeration when I hinted, that to him who had the gift of\ndistinguishing between prominent events and important events, the origin\nof a combined effort on the part of mankind to improve natural knowledge\nmight have loomed larger than the Plague and have outshone the glare\nof the Fire; as a something fraught with a wealth of beneficence to\nmankind, in comparison with which the damage done by those ghastly evils\nwould shrink into insignificance.\n\nIt is very certain that for every victim slain by the plague, hundreds\nof mankind exist and find a fair share of happiness in the world by the\naid of the spinning jenny. And the great fire, at its worst, could\nnot have burned the supply of coal, the daily working of which, in the\nbowels of the earth, made possible by the steam pump, gives rise to an\namount of wealth to which the millions lost in old London are but as an\nold song.\n\nBut spinning jenny and steam pump are, after all, but toys, possessing\nan accidental value; and natural knowledge creates multitudes of more\nsubtle contrivances, the praises of which do not happen to be sung\nbecause they are not directly convertible into instruments of creating\nwealth. When I contemplate natural knowledge squandering such gifts\namong men, the only appropriate comparison I can find for her is, to\nliken her to such a peasant woman as one sees in the Alps, striding ever\nupward, heavily burdened, and with mind bent only on her home; but\nyet, without effort and without thought, knitting for her children.\nNow stockings are good and comfortable things, and the children\nwill undoubtedly be much the better for them; but surely it would be\nshort-sighted, to say the least of it, to depreciate this toiling mother\nas a mere stocking-machine--a mere provider of physical comforts?\n\nHowever, there are blind leaders of the blind, and not a few of them,\nwho take this view of natural knowledge, and can see nothing in the\nbountiful mother of humanity but a sort of comfort-grinding machine.\nAccording to them, the improvement of natural knowledge always has been,\nand always must be, synonymous with no more than the improvement of the\nmaterial resources and the increase of the gratification of men.\n\nNatural knowledge is, in their eyes, no real mother of mankind, bringing\nthem up with kindness, and if need be, with sternness, in the way they\nshould go, and instructing them in all things needful for their welfare;\nbut a sort of fairy godmother, ready to furnish her pets with shoes of\nswiftness, swords of sharpness, and omnipotent Aladdin's lamps, so that\nthey may have telegraphs to Saturn, and see the other side of the moon,\nand thank God they are better than their benighted ancestors. If this\ntalk were true, I, for one, should not greatly care to toil in the\nservice of natural knowledge. I think I would just as soon be quietly\nchipping my own flint axe, after the manner of my forefathers a few\nthousand years back, as be troubled with the endless malady of thought\nwhich now infests us all, for such reward. But I venture to say that\nsuch views are contrary alike to reason and to fact. Those who discourse\nin such fashion seem to me to be so intent upon trying to see what is\nabove Nature, or what is behind her, that they are blind to what stares\nthem in the face, in her.\n\nI should not venture to speak thus strongly if my justification were not\nto be found in the simplest and most obvious facts,--if it needed more\nthan an appeal to the most notorious truths to justify my assertion,\nthat the improvement of natural knowledge, whatever direction it has\ntaken, and however low the aims of those who may have commenced it--has\nnot only conferred practical benefits on men, but, in so doing, has\neffected a revolution in their conceptions of the universe and of\nthemselves, and has profoundly altered their modes of thinking and\ntheir views of right and wrong. I say that natural knowledge, seeking\nto satisfy natural wants, has found the ideas which can alone still\nspiritual cravings. I way that natural knowledge, in desiring to\nascertain the laws of comfort, has been driven to discover those of\nconduct, and to lay the foundations of a new morality.\n\nLet us take these points separately; and, first, what great ideas has\nnatural knowledge introduced into men's minds?\n\nI cannot but think that the foundations of all natural knowledge were\nlaid when the reason of man first came face to face with the facts of\nNature; when the savage first learned that the fingers of one hand are\nfewer than those of both; that it is shorter to cross a stream than to\nhead it; that a stone stops where it is unless it be moved, and that it\ndrops from the hand which lets it go; that light and heat come and go\nwith the sun; that sticks burn away to a fire; that plants and animals\ngrow and die; that if he struck his fellow-savage a blow he would make\nhim angry, and perhaps get a blow in return, while if he offered him a\nfruit he would please him, and perhaps receive a fish in exchange. When\nmen had acquired this much knowledge, the outlines, rude though they\nwere, of mathematics, of physics, of chemistry, of biology, of moral,\neconomical, and political science, were sketched. Nor did the germ of\nreligion fail when science began to bud. Listen to words which though\nnew, are yet three thousand years old:--\n\n    \"...When in heaven the stars about the moon\n    Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,\n    And every height comes out, and jutting peak\n    And valley, and the immeasurable heavens\n    Break open to their highest, and all the start\n    Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart.\" [2]\n\nIf the half-savage Greek could share our feelings thus far, it is\nirrational to doubt that he went further, to find, as we do, that upon\nthat brief gladness there follows a certain sorrow,--the little light of\nawakened human intelligence shines so mere a spark amidst the abyss\nof the unknown and unknowable; seems so insufficient to do more than\nilluminate the imperfections that cannot be remedied, the aspirations\nthat cannot be realized, of man's own nature. But in this sadness, this\nconsciousness of the limitation of man, this sense of an open secret\nwhich he cannot penetrate, lies the essence of all religion; and the\nattempt to embody it in the forms furnished by the intellect is the\norigin of the higher theologies.\n\nThus it seems impossible to imagine but that the foundations of all\nknowledge--secular or sacred--were laid when intelligence dawned, though\nthe superstructure remained for long ages so slight and feeble as to be\ncompatible with the existence of almost any general view respecting the\nmode of governance of the universe. No doubt, from the first, there were\ncertain phenomena which, to the rudest mind, presented a constancy of\noccurrence, and suggested that a fixed order ruled, at any rate, among\nthem. I doubt if the grossest of Fetish worshippers ever imagined that\na stone must have a god within it to make it fall, or that a fruit had\na god within it to make it taste sweet. With regard to such matters\nas these, it is hardly questionable that mankind from the first took\nstrictly positive and scientific views.\n\nBut, with respect to all the less familiar occurrences which present\nthemselves, uncultured man, no doubt, has always taken himself as the\nstandard of comparison, as the centre and measure of the world; nor\ncould he well avoid doing so. And finding that his apparently uncaused\nwill has a powerful effect in giving rise to many occurrences, he\nnaturally enough ascribed other and greater events to other and greater\nvolitions, and came to look upon the world and all that therein is, as\nthe product of the volitions of persons like himself, but stronger, and\ncapable of being appeased or angered, as he himself might be soothed\nor irritated. Through such conceptions of the plan and working of\nthe universe all mankind have passed, or are passing. And we may\nnow consider, what has been the effect of the improvement of natural\nknowledge on the views of men who have reached this stage, and who\nhave begun to cultivate natural knowledge with no desire but that of\n\"increasing God's honour and bettering man's estate.\"\n\nFor example, what could seem wiser, from a mere material point of view,\nmore innocent, from a theological one, to an ancient people, than that\nthey should learn the exact succession of the seasons, as warnings for\ntheir husbandmen; or the position of the stars, as guides to their rude\nnavigators? But what has grown out of this search for natural\nknowledge of so merely useful a character? You all know the reply.\nAstronomy,--which of all sciences has filled men's minds with general\nideas of a character most foreign to their daily experience, and has,\nmore than any other, rendered it impossible for them to accept the\nbeliefs of their fathers. Astronomy,--which tells them that this so vast\nand seemingly solid earth is but an atom among atoms, whirling, no man\nknows whither, through illimitable space; which demonstrates that what\nwe call the peaceful heaven above us, is but that space, filled by an\ninfinitely subtle matter whose particles are seething and surging, like\nthe waves of an angry sea; which opens up to us infinite regions where\nnothing is known, or ever seems to have been known, but matter and\nforce, operating according to rigid rules; which leads us to contemplate\nphenomena the very nature of which demonstrates that they must have\nhad a beginning, and that they must have an end, but the very nature of\nwhich also proves that the beginning was, to our conceptions of time,\ninfinitely remote, and that the end is as immeasurably distant.\n\nBut it is not alone those who pursue astronomy who ask for bread\nand receive ideas. What more harmless than the attempt to lift and\ndistribute water by pumping it; what more absolutely and grossly\nutilitarian? But out of pumps grew the discussions about Nature's\nabhorrence of a vacuum; and then it was discovered that Nature does not\nabhor a vacuum, but that air has weight; and that notion paved the way\nfor the doctrine that all matter has weight, and that the force which\nproduces weight is co-extensive with the universe,--in short, to the\ntheory of universal gravitation and endless force. While learning how\nto handle gases led to the discovery of oxygen, and to modern chemistry,\nand to the notion of the indestructibility of matter.\n\nAgain, what simpler, or more absolutely practical, than the attempt to\nkeep the axle of a wheel from heating when the wheel turns round very\nfast? How useful for carters and gig drivers to know something about\nthis; and how good were it, if any ingenious person would find out the\ncause of such phenomena, and thence educe a general remedy for them.\nSuch an ingenious person was Count Rumford; and he and his successors\nhave landed us in the theory of the persistence, or indestructibility,\nof force. And in the infinitely minute, as in the infinitely great,\nthe seekers after natural knowledge, of the kinds called physical and\nchemical, have everywhere found a definite order and succession of\nevents which seem never to be infringed.\n\nAnd how has it fared with \"Physick\" and Anatomy? Have the anatomist,\nthe physiologist, or the physician, whose business it has been to devote\nthemselves assiduously to that eminently practical and direct end,\nthe alleviation of the sufferings of mankind,--have they been able to\nconfine their vision more absolutely to the strictly useful? I fear they\nare worst offenders of all. For if the astronomer has set before us the\ninfinite magnitude of space, and the practical eternity of the duration\nof the universe; if the physical and chemical philosophers have\ndemonstrated the infinite minuteness of its constituent parts, and\nthe practical eternity of matter and of force; and if both have alike\nproclaimed the universality of a definite and predicable order and\nsuccession of events, the workers in biology have not only accepted all\nthese, but have added more startling theses of their own. For, as the\nastronomers discover in the earth no centre of the universe, but an\neccentric speck, so the naturalists find man to be no centre of the\nliving world, but one amidst endless modifications of life; and as the\nastronomer observes the mark of practically endless time set upon\nthe arrangements of the solar system so the student of life finds the\nrecords of ancient forms of existence peopling the world for ages,\nwhich, in relation to human experience, are infinite.\n\nFurthermore, the physiologist finds life to be as dependent for its\nmanifestation on particular molecular arrangements as any physical or\nchemical phenomenon; and, whenever he extends his researches, fixed\norder and unchanging causation reveal themselves, as plainly as in the\nrest of Nature.\n\nNor can I find that any other fate has awaited the germ of Religion.\nArising, like all other kinds of knowledge, and out of the action and\ninteraction of man's mind, with that which is not man's mind, it has\ntaken the intellectual coverings of Fetishism or Polytheism; of Theism\nor Atheism; of Superstition or Rationalism. With these, and their\nrelative merits and demerits, I have nothing to do; but this it is\nneedful for my purpose to say, that if the religion of the present\ndiffers from that of the past, it is because the theology of the present\nhas become more scientific than that of the past; because it has not\nonly renounced idols of wood and idols of stone, but begins to see\nthe necessity of breaking in pieces the idols built up of books and\ntraditions and fine-spun ecclesiastical cobwebs: and of cherishing the\nnoblest and most human of man's emotions, by worship \"for the most part\nof the silent sort\" at the altar of the Unknown and Unknowable.\n\nSuch are a few of the new conceptions implanted in our minds by the\nimprovement of natural knowledge. Men have acquired the ideas of\nthe practically infinite extent of the universe and of its practical\neternity; they are familiar with the conception that our earth is but an\ninfinitesimal fragment of that part of the universe which can be seen;\nand that, nevertheless, its duration is, as compared with our standards\nof time, infinite. They have further acquired the idea that man is but\none of innumerable forms of life now existing in the globe, and that\nthe present existences are but the last of an immeasurable series of\npredecessors. Moreover, every step they have made in natural knowledge\nhas tended to extend and rivet in their minds the conception of a\ndefinite order of the universe--which is embodied in what are called,\nby an unhappy metaphor, the laws of Nature--and to narrow the range and\nloosen the force of men's belief in spontaneity, or in changes other\nthan such as arise out of that definite order itself. Whether these\nideas are well or ill founded is not the question. No one can deny that\nthey exist, and have been the inevitable outgrowth of the improvement\nof natural knowledge. And if so, it cannot be doubted that they\nare changing the form of men's most cherished and most important\nconvictions.\n\nAnd as regards the second point--the extent to which the improvement\nof natural knowledge has remodelled and altered what may be termed the\nintellectual ethics of men,--what are among the moral convictions most\nfondly held by barbarous and semi-barbarous people.\n\nThey are the convictions that authority is the soundest basis of\nbelief; that merit attaches to a readiness to believe; that the doubting\ndisposition is a bad one, and scepticism a sin; that when good authority\nhas pronounced what is to be believed, and faith has accepted it, reason\nhas no further duty. There are many excellent persons who yet hold by\nthese principles, and it is not my present business, or intention, to\ndiscuss their views. All I wish to bring clearly before your minds is\nthe unquestionable fact, that the improvement of natural knowledge\nis effected by methods which directly give the lie to all these\nconvictions, and assume the exact reverse of each to be true.\n\nThe improver of natural knowledge absolutely refuses to acknowledge\nauthority, as such. For him, scepticism is the highest of duties; blind\nfaith the one unpardonable sin. And it cannot be otherwise, for every\ngreat advance in natural knowledge has involved the absolute rejection\nof authority, the cherishing of the keenest scepticism, the annihilation\nof the spirit of blind faith; and the most ardent votary of science\nholds his firmest convictions, not because the men he most venerates\nhold them; not because their verity is testified by portents and\nwonders; but because his experience teaches him that whenever he chooses\nto bring these convictions into contact with their primary source,\nNature--whenever he thinks fit to test them by appealing to experiment\nand to observation--Nature will confirm them. The man of science has\nlearned to believe in justification, not by faith, but by verification.\n\nThus, without for a moment pretending to despise the practical results\nof the improvement of natural knowledge, and its beneficial influence\non material civilization, it must, I think, be admitted that the great\nideas, some of which I have indicated, and the ethical spirit which\nI have endeavoured to sketch, in the few moments which remained at my\ndisposal, constitute the real and permanent significance of natural\nknowledge.\n\nIf these ideas be destined, as I believe they are, to be more and more\nfirmly established as the world grows older; if that spirit be fated, as\nI believe it is, to extend itself into all departments of human thought,\nand to become co-extensive with the range of knowledge; if, as our race\napproaches its maturity, it discovers, as I believe it will, that there\nis but one kind of knowledge and but one method of acquiring it; then\nwe, who are still children, may justly feel it our highest duty to\nrecognise the advisableness of improving natural knowledge, and so to\naid ourselves and our successors in their course towards the noble goal\nwhich lies before mankind.\n\n\n\n\n[Footnote 1: A Lay Sermon delivered in St. Martin's Hall on Sunday,\nJanuary 7th, 1866, and subsequently published in the 'Fortnightly\nReview'.]\n\n[Footnote 2: Need it be said that this is Tennyson's English for Homer's\nGreek?]","title":"On the Advisableness of Improving Natural Knowledge","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":5633}