The examples which I have in mind to illustrate this argument are all derived from the organic world. I refer, for instance, to the fact that nearly all our muscles, and many other important organs, as the hands, the feet, the eyes, and the lungs, are in pairs, so that if one meets with an injury, or is destroyed, the other can, to some extent, perform the office of both. The brain has two hemispheres, and one of them may be seriously wounded without destroying the healthy action of the other.
But perhaps the most appropriate example is in the blood-vessels, whose inosculations are so numerous that even though large arteries and veins be tied, the blood will find its way through the smaller ones, which ultimately will so enlarge as to keep up the circulation nearly as well as before the injury. And, in fact, almost every one of the large blood-vessels has been tied by the surgeon with little ultimate injury to the patient.
In the process of deglutition, or swallowing the nourishment essential to the existence of all the more perfect animals,—since the food and the air for respiration pass for a time through a common opening, the pharynx,—it is extremely important that the passage to the lungs should be most vigilantly guarded; since strangulation would follow the introduction there of any thing but air. Accordingly, the entrance of the glottis is so sensitive, that the approach of the food causes it to close. But lest this security shouldsometimes fail, we have an additional guard in the epiglottis, which shuts down like a valve upon the orifice. Even with this double precaution, strangulation sometimes follows the act of deglutition. How much oftener would it occur, had not benevolence thus multiplied its vigilant sentinels at the point of danger!
Another illustration of this argument lies in the fact, that many of the organs of animals and plants possess the power, when an exigency requires it, of greatly increasing their action. When, for instance, an unusual quantity of osseous matter is requisite to repair a broken bone, the glands, whose office it is to elaborate that matter, are capable of secreting an extraordinary quantity, until the injury is repaired.
Of an analogous character is the sympathy existing between the different organs, so that when one has an unusual amount of labor to perform, the rest impart of their nervous energy to sustain their overtasked companion. Thus, and thus only, could animals be carried through many of the severe exigencies of their existence. Their organs help one another, just as if they were conscious of one another’s necessities, and were prompted by benevolence to aid the weakest.
In like manner, some of the organs possess the power of vicarious secretion; that is, of producing, in peculiar circumstances, secretions that are usually made by other glands. How they can do this, and how they can know when to do it, are among the mysteries of physiology. Nevertheless, the object of this arrangement is most obvious, viz., the continuance of health and life in spite of accidents, which would otherwise prove fatal.
The same vicarious system is manifest in the well-known examples, where the loss of one or more of the senses givesincreased acuteness to the rest. The sense of touch, for instance, in the blind man, has sometimes proved no mean substitute for eyes; and, indeed, any of the senses by cultivation, in peculiar exigencies, may be prodigiously strengthened.
Now, in all these cases, where the vicarious principle is brought into operation, or sympathy concentrates the power of many organs in one, or the loss of one organ or sense quickens the sensibility of the rest, do we not recognize the prospective care and kindness of infinite benevolence? Do you say that it merely shows infinite wisdom, which adjusts means to ends with consummate skill, in order to be sure of success in its designs? Why, then, I inquire, should these provisions for trying exigencies in the animal system always tend to the happiness of the creature? Surely there were other means at the command of infinite wisdom for securing the existence of the animal, which would bring misery upon it instead of happiness. The benevolent tendency of the design, therefore, proves the benevolent feelings of the designer.
The extraordinary provisions that are made in some cases for the multiplication of animals and plants, in order to prevent the extinction of any races, and to give life and happiness to as many animals as can be sustained, is another indication of benevolent care on the part of the Creator. Not less than five modes of reproduction are known to exist, viz., the viviparous, the ovo-viviparous, the oviparous, the gemmiparous, and the fissiparous; and among the lowest families of animals several of these modes exist in the same species, so that their extinction, or even deficient multiplication, is scarcely possible.
The same benevolence is manifested in the power possessedby animals and plants to adapt themselves to different circumstances. Often are they thrown into conditions widely diverse as to food, temperature, and exposure to chemical and mechanical agencies, with no possibility on their part of avoiding them. This is eminently true of man; and were not animals able to adapt themselves to these various states, they must perish. True, there are limits to this adaptation; but they are wide enough to accomplish the great purposes of existence, and to make us comfortable and happy amid great changes in our condition. Nor is this power of adaptation among animals limited to their physical nature. Their mental habits admit of an oscillation equally wide, so that, ere long, we become happy in a condition which at first was painful in the extreme. New habits take the place of the old ones so gradually that we scarcely realize the change.
Now, if this power were not possessed in such a world as ours, could organic natures not bend at all to circumstances, constant suffering and premature dissolution would be the result. The power of adaptation, therefore, looks like the benevolent provision of a kind Father, who wishes to make his creatures as happy as he can in the circumstances in which his wisdom has placed them. Certainly, malevolence, or indifference to their happiness, would not have introduced this power of adaptation into their natures; for it is certain that their continued existence might have been secured in some other way, had no reference been had to their happiness.
I base my fourth argument for the predominance of benevolence, in the arrangements of nature, upon the aggregate results of the most destructive and terrific agencies which she employs.
The immediate effects of these agencies are often soappalling and so unmixed with good, that men view them only as penal inflictions; or, when the sufferers are unconscious of guilt, as mysterious dispensations of evil, which need the light of another world to reconcile with infinite benevolence. When the tornado or sirocco’s hot breath sweeps over the devoted land; when the river overflows its banks, and ingulfs the defenceless inhabitants along its course, or the giant waves of the ocean roll in upon the devoted shore; when the heaving earthquake overturns in a moment vast cities, and the earth swallows them in its bosom; or when the volcano pours out its suffocating smoke and its scorching lava, and obliterates from earth the defenceless town, as once Herculaneum and Pompeii were converted into petrified cities,—in the midst of such desolating agencies, where can we discover a gleam of benevolence? Not surely in the immediate effects. But suppose the tornado, the flood, the earthquake, and the volcano are essential to the preservation of the earth from a far wider ruin, so that, in fact, while they destroy some property and life, they preserve a far greater amount, and are essential to such preservation,—why is it not benevolence that gives a slight play to these terrific elements, while it checks their wild war so soon as the requisite security has been obtained? When the storm has sufficiently purified the atmosphere, when the flood has enriched the wide alluvial fields, and the earthquake and the volcano have given vent to the pent-up fires in the earth, so that they no longer threaten to rend a continent asunder, then a restraining power is put upon them, and they are allowed no more range than is essential to the general good. We may not, indeed, see why the good could not be secured without the evil. But this question leads to the inquiry, whether the present system of the universe is the best possible; and that it is so we have theguaranty of the divine perfections. Those perfections admit the existence of evil; but at the same time they take care that the aggregate result of the greatest evils should be beneficial.
Nor would we limit this position to evils springing out of the nature or the changes of the inanimate world; for some of the severest evils are dependent upon the organization or operation of animate nature. Man, for instance, finds himself often grossly annoyed by some species of the inferior animals, in his comfort, property, and even life. And he wonders why infinite wisdom and benevolence should permit certain species to exist, when they seem fitted only to annoy the rest. But he knows not what he desires when he wishes their extinction. For such is the balance of organic nature, that to strike out even one species, is like removing a link from a chain. Once broken, every other link is affected, and the whole chain lies useless upon the ground. Or, to speak without a figure, if you blot out certain species of animals or plants, you disturb the balance of the whole system of organic nature; nor can you tell where the disturbance thus introduced will end. It may lead to the excessive multiplication of species still more injurious than those you have destroyed. At any rate, since the perfections of the Deity lead to the conclusion that the existing proportion between different species is the best, all things considered, and change in the balance must be injurious, we may conclude, that though noxious animals and plants may produce individual inconvenience and injury, the aggregate effects upon the whole of organic nature are salutary, and, therefore, indicative of benevolence.
Similar reasoning will, I think, apply to the existence of that large class of animals called carnivorous. These are evidently intended to prey upon other animals; and for thispurpose they are provided with weapons for seizing and destroying their prey. It is often extremely painful to a man of kind feelings to witness the scenes of blood and havoc which these flesh-eating animals produce. But we forget two things. The first is, that in order to keep the numbers of animated beings full in the different tribes, it is necessary that there should be a great excess of numbers created, to meet all the casualties to which they are exposed; and that excess must in some way or other be removed from life. Secondly, all the enjoyment of the carnivorous races is so much clear gain to the sum of animal happiness; for the excess of numbers in the tribes of vegetable feeders suffer no more in being destroyed by the carnivorous races, than if they died in some other way; not so much, indeed, as if they perished by famine. We may safely conclude, then, that even this system of mutual slaughter, when viewed in all its relations, is the means, in such a world as ours, of increasing the amount of enjoyment, and is, therefore, a benevolent provision.
This course of reasoning may be extended, as I judge, to the greatest of all mortal evils,—I mean death. In the case of the inferior animals, the amount of physical or mental suffering from this cause is comparatively small. And if they survive the change of death, surely there is benevolence in so easy a translation. Or, if they do not exist hereafter, the stroke of death is a small deduction from the happiness of a whole life. In man’s case, we must not take into the account the aggravations of death which his own misconduct produces. And aside from these, what a blessing it would be to be transferred to a more exalted state of being, by an experience no more painful than that of a Christian dying what may be called a natural death, by mere decay! Then, too, how much greater happiness is the result of a succession ofbeings on earth, than one undying race would enjoy, both because the successive races would be ever passing through novel scenes, which would soon become monotonous to a continuous race, and because, as we have already suggested, a succession of races admits of the existence, at any one time, of a far greater number of species! Then, too, we must not forget the salutary moral influence which man experiences from the expectation of death; so great, indeed, that without it, it seems doubtful whether the world would be any thing better than a Pandemonium. In making indissoluble the connection between sin and death, therefore, in such a system as the present, benevolence presided with wisdom and justice in the councils of Jehovah.
But in the third lecture I have treated this whole subject so much more fully, that I need not add any thing further in this connection.
I base my fifth and last argument, to prove the predominance of benevolence in the present system of nature, on the fact that good so often results from evil as a natural consequence. Or, to state the argument in another form, good seems generally to be the object or final cause of evil, whereas evil flows only incidentally from good.
This argument scarcely differs from the last, except in the more general form of its statement. That brings forward certain prominent and appalling evils, and endeavors to show that, in striking the balance of their effects, the preponderance is on the side of benevolence. This advances a step farther, and attempts to show that the direct object of evil is to produce good.
It follows, hence, that the examples adduced and elucidated under the last argument are not inappropriate to sustain and illustrate the present. Yet others should be added.
Almost the entire history of medicine and surgery illustrates the manner in which physical evils result in physical good. Indeed, men never resort to the physician, or the surgeon, because their remedies and operations are desirable, but only because they are the necessary means of health and comfort. These means are, indeed, for the most part, of human invention, but not, therefore, the less indicative of the divine intention; for they are founded upon such a constitution in nature as makes it possible to discover remedies for disease and accidents. And the characteristics of nature’s constitution are an index of the intentions of its Author.
The severe mental discipline through which the youth must pass, who would attain distinction in learning, affords us an example of intellectual evil resulting in intellectual wealth and happiness. The trial is too severe for many irresolute minds, and they give over the effort, and sink down into a state of indolence and neglect. But he who bears manfully the discipline will at length gather the golden fruit. And he will be satisfied, too, of the wisdom and benevolence of that law of mental progress, which makes it impossible ever to find a royal road to the temple of learning, and which shuts out from that temple all who shrink from the preparatory discipline.
Still more strikingly illustrative of this argument are the evils which men suffer as necessary precursors of moral good. These may be physical or mental; embracing all those experiences that take the name of trials, afflictions, and disappointments. These are often intensely bitter, and they constitute, indeed, the master evils of life. We shudder when we see them coming; and we often writhe in agony when in the furnace. But how many have come out of that furnace purified from base alloy, and ready for the service of God andthe world! To do good is henceforth their delight; and they thank God for the severe discipline. When his heavy blows fell upon them, one after another, they felt as if they were the strokes of an incensed Deity. But now they see that they were only the necessary inflictions of infinite love. And they admire the wisdom that could thus educe so much good out of so great evil.
I do not contend that good is always educed from evil in this world, or could be; but only that, in a plurality of cases, if men improve the evils they suffer as they might, such would be the effect. And if this be admitted, it is sufficient to establish the general principle, that one of the direct objects of evil in this world is to produce individual benefit.
But the converse of this proposition cannot be maintained. We cannot, indeed, deny that evil sometimes results from good; but never as the direct object of the latter. The effect is only incidental; that is, not as the main object; and so a few cases of this sort cannot invalidate the proposition which I defend.
I might multiply much more the arguments furnished by nature to prove a predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and operations of the present system of things. But I see no way of escaping the force of those presented, and cannot doubt that all will admit the conclusion. I advance, therefore to a second proposition, and maintain thatthe benevolence exhibited in the present system of nature is not unmixed.
I mean, by this statement, that the divine benevolence exhibited in this world is modified by other perfections. While there is a predominance of benevolence, there are also indications of God’s displeasure; or, at least, his dealings seem to be adapted to restrain and amend a wicked race, rather than to make an innocent and holy race happy; so that the conditionof the human family is far less happy than unmixed benevolence would confer.
In proof of this assertion, I maintain, first, that evil is incidental to every process and event in nature.
This is preëminently true of all those actions which we call vicious. Indeed, they are in themselves evils of the worst kind; and not only so, but they are connected incidentally with scarcely any thing but evil, though sometimes, as theologians say, overruled for good.
Take next the common operations of nature, which, of course, have no moral character. Their leading design, as we have already seen, is to produce good to sentient beings; but incidentally they bring much evil. Food is intended for gustatory enjoyment and for nourishment; but it is often the occasion of severe suffering, and becomes an active poison. Gravity is intended to hold the material universe in a proper balance, and to attach every moving thing on earth to the surface; but it occasions a vast number of accidents, and a vast amount of suffering. Water and fire are of immense direct benefit; yet the first buries a vast amount of property and life in its bosom, and the latter is scarcely less injurious in its incidental effects. Indeed, what natural agency can be named, that is not armed with the power to do evil?
But the same principle extends also to benevolent actions. With our views of divine benevolence, we might expect that virtuous conduct would never be coupled with evil. But this notion does not accord with facts; for the incidental evils connected with benevolent action are often the most painful in life. Indeed, in how many instances has doing good been rewarded by the loss of life, and under all the aggravations of suffering which malignant ingenuity could invent! And the fact has been, that those whose motives in doing goodwere the purest have suffered the most. Witness the life and the death of Him who knew no sin, and yet was led as a lamb to the slaughter. Since wickedness in this world is sometimes allowed to have the power of annoying goodness we might expect that the more disinterested the latter, the more malignant and persecuting would be the former, because its own deformity is made more manifest.
But the incidental evils connected with benevolent action are not limited to those resulting from the malice of the wicked. If, for instance, some huge system of iniquity has become incorporated into the very texture of society, benevolence cannot root it out without producing many a severe laceration of individuals, who are incidentally connected with the system, but to whom no blame attaches. The history of the efforts that have been made to substitute Christianity for heathenism and other false religions, is full of examples illustrative of this principle, in conformity with the remarkable declaration of Christ,Think not that I am come to send peace on earth; I came not to send peace, but a sword.Alike prolific of illustrations are all the great attempted reforms which the world has witnessed, whether for delivering religion from human corruptions, or eradicating slavery, or intemperance, or breaking the political yoke of the oppressor. In fine, no reasonable man ought to expect to do much good in this world, without suffering much himself and bringing some incidental suffering upon others.
Now, although the evils that have been described are incidental, they belong to the constitution of this world, and, therefore, show the feelings and intentions of its Author, as much as those effects of his works which appear to be their final causes. But do not such evils, incidental to every event, indicate a feeling in the divine mind different from unmixedbenevolence? Strictly speaking, these evils are not penal inflictions. But they certainly do not show in the Creator a simple desire to promote the happiness of men, by directly conferring it. They rather indicate a necessity, on account of some peculiarity in the character of man, of mingling severity with goodness in the divine conduct towards him.
In thus representing incidental effects as indicative of the feelings of the Deity, I may seem to contradict my reasoning under the first head, where I gave, as proof of God’s benevolence, the fact that the direct object of every contrivance is beneficial, and evil only incidental. But I did not mean to intimate that the incidental effects of a contrivance are no index of the feelings of its author, but only that the direct effects show more clearly than the incidental what are his wishes and intentions, especially if the former are the most numerous, important, and striking. Still, incidental effects are never without an object; and where they are evil, as in the case supposed, they indicate other feelings towards men, in the divine mind, than unmixed benevolence. For it is a strange limitation of God’s wisdom and power to say, as some do, that the evils could not be prevented.
It may be said, however, that if men only conform to the laws of nature, they will escape all the evils they suffer. On the other hand, I maintain,—and this constitutes my second argument to show that the divine benevolence is not unmixed,—I maintain that the highest virtue and the most consummate prudence cannot avoid all the evils of life.
Such prudence and virtue will not secure any one against many destructive natural agencies and operations to which he is exposed. Miasms productive of fatal disease may contaminate the atmosphere we breathe, unperceived by us; poison may exist in the food which we take as our necessarysustenance; the mechanical violence of the elements, or of gravity, may crush us; the lightning may smite us to the earth; the wild beast may rush from his unnoticed lair as we pass; or the deadly insect, or serpent, may inject its poison into our blood at an unexpected moment; or the floods may overwhelm, or the fire consume us.
Now, although prudence and virtue may defend us against many evils, they afford no security against such as I have named, in very many instances. We are often ignorant of their existence or proximity till we become their victims, and suffering, often intense, is the consequence. Indeed, the greatest of all physical evils—I mean death—is as sure to visit every son and daughter of Adam as any event can be; and nothing but insanity, or its religious synonyme, fanaticism, has ever pretended to be proof against disease and death. You cannot, indeed, point out any particular organ or agency, whose direct object is to produce disease and death; but they are nevertheless the inevitable result of organic operations and agencies in such a world as this.
It will be said, perhaps, that the good resulting to the whole from even the most severe of these sufferings, overbalances the evil, and therefore they are indications of benevolence in such a world as ours. True, as things are, this may be so. But the question is, Why is there such a constitution given to nature as made it necessary to introduce disease, accident, and death? Would not unmixed benevolence have conferred the good, but have withheld the evil? Had there not been something in man’s character requiring the discipline of trials, would pure benevolence have sent them? At least, we should suppose that they might all have been avoided by prudence and virtue. Why should benevolence make such severe drawbacks upon the happiness even of the virtuous,if something were not radically wrong in the human constitution?
Thirdly. The great sterility of so large a part of the earth, and the necessity of severe bodily labor to secure sustenance from it, show us that the benevolence exhibited in nature and in man’s condition is not unmixed. Though some limited regions are exuberantly fertile, the larger part of the earth yields up even a mere sustenance only after the severest labor. And the vast majority of the race can do nothing more than to obtain food for the body. The artificial state of most societies does, indeed, keep the lower classes much more depressed than a better state of the world would bring them into; but at the best, nature unites with revelation in attesting the truth of the sentence passed upon man—In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread.
Nor is this necessity for severe labor confined to the cultivation of the earth, but extends to all kinds of human pursuits. Success, as a general fact, can be secured only by vigorous industry; and often, in spite of their most honest and persevering efforts, men fail of securing even a competence for the support of themselves and their dependants.
Some will say that all this arises from a necessity in the very nature of the case. But does not such a view limit the divine power and wisdom? Could not God have prepared a world more paradisiacal than the present, where the earth should spontaneously yield her fruits, and pour out her hidden treasures at man’s feet? Who will deny this? Why, then, has he not done it? Because obviously a race so prone to evil as man, so incapable of maintaining his integrity in the lap of ease and indulgence, needs all this severe discipline to keep him where he ought to be. Here, then, we see a reason why God must mingle seeming severity with benevolence.
The same thing is seen, in the fourth place, in the confined and depressed condition of the human mind in this world, and in the multiplied obstacles in the way of its cultivation and enlargement.
What a clog to the intellect is a body governed by gross appetites, and often stopping the ingress of truth, or perverting its aspect, by disordered and imperfect senses! Nearly one third of the time must that intellect sink into oblivion, while sleep recruits the physical powers. And nearly another third of life must be given to the wants of the body; and as we have seen, the great mass of men are obliged to devote nearly their whole time to serve the necessary wants of the body. What an incalculable waste of mind does the world exhibit! And even when all artificial and unnecessary obstructions are taken out of the way, what an immense waste must it always present, while in so gross a corporeal tenement! for were it free to exhibit its true nature, we cannot doubt its power of unwearied and incessant activity. And such might have been its condition here, had it pleased infinite wisdom and benevolence. But what unmixed benevolence would have prompted, perfect wisdom would not permit to fallen man.
I feel confident that my first two propositions are established, viz., that there is a predominance of benevolence in the arrangements and operations of the present world, and yet that it is not unmixed benevolence. I advance to a third proposition, which asserts thatthe same mixed system of good and evil, which now exists, has always prevailed since the earth was inhabited.
Geology shows us the true succession of events since the first appearance of organic beings on the globe, but no chronological dates are registered on the rocks. And it is onlyby observing processes in existing nature, analogous to those whose record is engraven on the solid strata, that we can infer that the years since life first appeared on the surface must have been very many. But however far back in the hoary past that event occurred, we have indisputable evidence that the same laws then controlled the operations of nature as now, and the result was the same mixture of good and evil.
In the crystalline structure, and in the perfect crystals of the older rocks, we learn the laws which predominated at their production. And we find that the same chemical, electrical, and electro-magnetical influences presided over their formation as are now exhibited in the laboratory of the chemist or the laboratory of nature. Now, these crystals conduct us back much farther than the dawn of terrestrial life, though similar ones, and produced by the same laws, are found through the whole series of rocks, from the oldest to the newest. And I might appeal to many other facts in the earth’s history, which demonstrate an identity between the physical laws that have controlled nature’s processes in every period of past time.
We have evidence, also, of the same identity in the laws of life, or organic laws. In the anatomical structure of the earliest animals and plants we find the same general type that pervades the present creation, modified only, as it now is, to meet peculiar circumstances. This is true not only of the osseous, but also of the muscular, circulatory, nervous, lymphatic, and nutritive organs. Hence, as we might expect, we have evidence of the prevalence of the same functional or physiological laws then, as now. Respiration was performed, as it now is, and with the same effects. Vegetable and animal food was then, as now, masticated, digested, andassimilated; and since animals possessed the same senses, we infer that their habits were essentially the same. There is not, indeed, any evidence that ancient animals and plants exhibited any peculiarities of structure or function, save those necessary to adapt them to the circumstances, so unlike the present, in many respects, in which they lived.
We are sure, also, that death has ever reigned over all organic nature. It has always been produced by the same causes, and attended by the same suffering. And its ravages were repaired by the same system of reproduction as now exists. All this we might presume would be the case, upon the discovery of an identity of laws, mechanical, chemical, and organic; but we have direct evidence, also, in the countless remains of animals and plants entombed in the rocks, more than twenty thousand species of which have been disinterred by naturalists and described.
I might multiply facts almost without number to sustain the position, that the same mixed system has ever prevailed upon the globe; for geology is full of the details. But in a subsequent lecture, the subject will be more amply discussed.
Such are the facts respecting the divine benevolence, as they are presented in the volume of nature. Though benevolence decidedly predominates, it is modified by other divine attributes, and ever has been, since organic existence began upon the globe. Let us now,in the fourth place, see what inferences are fairly deducible from the whole subject. For those inferences, if I mistake not, will not only clear away every cloud from the divine benevolence, but throw much light upon man’s condition.
In the first place, the subject shows us that the world is not in a state of retribution.
As a general fact, virtue is to some extent rewarded, and vice to some extent punished. But it is not always so. Indeed, the picture is sometimes reversed apparently; and the good are afflicted because they do good, and the wicked triumph because they do evil. Evil abounds, but it is not so distributed as righteous retribution would award it; neither is good. Since, therefore, God’s justice must be infinitely perfect, there must be some other object for the prevalence of good and evil in the world besides righteous retribution.
Secondly. We learn from the subject that the world is in a fallen condition.
I mean, that man has fallen from holiness and happiness. For the world is evidently not such a world as infinite wisdom and benevolence would prepare for a being perfectly holy and happy. Philosophize as we may, we cannot discover any reason why the abode of such a being should be filled with evils of almost every name—evils which the most consummate prudence and the most elevated virtue cannot wholly avoid—evils which often come upon the good man because he is eminent for holiness. But if man has fallen from original holiness and happiness by transgression, we might expect just such a world to be fitted up for his residence, because evil is indissolubly linked to sin, perhaps in the very nature of things, certainly by divine appointment. We know that it brings a curse upon every thing with which it is connected; and here we see a reason for the blight that has marred some of the fairest features of nature, and introduced pain and suffering into the animal frame, and brought a cloud over man’s noble intellect, and hebetude over his moral powers. Such a fallen condition will explain what no other supposition can, viz., the clouded, fettered, and depressed condition of all organic nature.
Yet, thirdly. We should not infer that man’s condition was hopeless, but rather that mercy might be in store for him.
The very fact that the world is not in a state of retribution would seem to afford hope that God had other purposes than punishment in allowing evil to be introduced. And then the vast predominance of benevolence and happiness around us cannot but inspire hope for the fallen.
This will be still more manifest if we infer, and can show, fourthly, that the world is in a state of probation or trial.
By this I mean that men are placed in a condition for the trial and discipline of their characters, in order to fit them for a higher state. If fallen and depraved, they need to pass through such a discipline before they can be prepared for that higher condition. And surely no one can observe the scenes through which all pass, without being struck with their eminent adaptedness to train man to virtue and holiness. Until we have been pupils for a time in this school, we are not fit even for the successive states in this life into which we pass; much less for a higher condition. But there is a marvellous power in this discipline to prepare us for both, as vast multitudes have testified while they lived and when they died. Even death seems, so far as we can see, to be the only means by which a sinful being can be delivered from his stains; and the dread of this terrific evil is one of the most powerful restraints upon vice, and stimulants to virtue. There is, in fact, no condition in which man is placed, no good or evil that he meets, which is not eminently adapted, if rightly improved, to discipline and strengthen his virtue. Hence we cannot doubt that this is the grand object of the present arrangements of the world. True, if misimproved, the same means become only a discipline in vice. But this is only in conformity with a general principle of the divine government,that the things which rightly used are highly salutary, are proportionably injurious when perverted.
Fifthly. The subject shows us a reason why suffering and death prevailed in this world long before man’s existence.
God foresaw—I will not say foreordained, though he certainly permitted it—that man would transgress; and, therefore, he made a world adapted to a sinful fallen being, rather than to one pure and holy. If he had adapted it to an unfallen being, and then changed it upon his apostasy, that change must have amounted to a new creation. For, as I have endeavored to show in a previous lecture, (Lecture III.,) the whole constitution of our world, and even its relations to other worlds, must have been altered to fit it for a being who had sinned. To have introduced such a one into a world fitted up for the perfectly holy, would have been a curse instead of a blessing. It was benevolence on the part of God to allow evil to abound in a world which was to be the residence of a sinful creature; for the discipline of such a state was the only chance of his being rescued from the power of sin, and restored to the divine favor.
It may be thought, however, inconsistent with divine benevolence to place the inferior, irrational animals in a condition of suffering because man would transgress, and thus punish creatures incapable of sinning for his transgression.
Animals do, indeed, suffer in such a world as ours; but not as a punishment for their own or man’s sin. The only question is, Do they suffer so much that their existence is not a blessing? Surely experience will decide, without inquiring as to their future existence, that their enjoyments, as a general fact, vastly outweigh their sufferings; and hence their existence indicates benevolence. It should also be recollected that their natures are adapted to a world of sin and death,and they are doubtless more happy here than they would be in a different condition, which might be more favorable to unfallen accountable beings.
Finally. This subject harmonizes infinite and perfect benevolence in God with the existence of evil on earth.
This is the grand problem of theology; and though I would not say that our reasoning clears it of all difficulties, yet it does seem to me that, by letting the light of this subject fall upon the question, we come nearer to its solution than by viewing it in any other aspect. For this subject shows us that benevolence decidedly predominates in all the arrangements of the material universe, and then it assigns good reasons why this benevolence is not unmixed; in other words, why severity is sometimes mingled with goodness. It shows us that God, with a prospective view of man’s sin, adapted the world to a fallen being; making it, instead of a place of unmingled happiness, a state of trial and discipline; not as a full punishment, (for that is reserved to a future state,) but as an essential means of delivering this immortal being from his ruin and misery, and of fitting him for future and endless holiness and happiness. Thus, instead of indicating indifference or malevolence in God, because he introduced evil into the world, it is a striking evidence of his benevolence. Such a plan is, in fact, the conjoint result of infinite wisdom and benevolence for rescuing the miserable and the lost. Had God placed such a being in a world adapted to one perfectly holy, his sufferings would have been vastly greater, and his rescue hopeless.
Thus far do both reason and revelation conduct us in a plain path; and that, probably, is as far as is necessary for all the purposes of religion. Up to this point, infinite benevolence pours its radiance upon the path, and we see goodreasons for the evils incident to this life; nay, we see that they are the result of that same benevolence which strews the way with blessings; that, in fact, they are only necessary means of the greatest blessings. I am aware that there is a question lying farther back, in the outskirts of metaphysical theology, which still remains unanswered, and probably never can be settled in this world, because some of its elements are beyond our reach. The inquisitive mind asks why it was necessary for infinite wisdom and power to introduce evil, or allow it to be introduced, into any system of created things. Could not such natures have been bestowed upon creatures, that good only might have been their portion? A plausible answer is, that evil exists because it can ultimately be made subservient of greater good, taking the whole universe into account, than another system. Certainly to fallen man we have reason to believe natural evils are the grand means of his highest good; and hence we derive an argument for the same conclusion in respect to the whole system of evil. Indeed, such are the divine attributes, that it is absurd to suppose God would create any system which was not the best possible in existing circumstances. But even though we cannot solve these questions in their abstract form, and as applied to the whole creation, it is sufficient for every practical purpose of religion if we can show, as we have endeavored to do in this lecture, how the present system of the world for a fallen being illustrates, instead of disproving, the divine benevolence.
Here, then, is the resolution of some of the darkest enigmas of human existence, which philosophy, unaided by revelation, has never solved. Here we get hold of the thread that conducts us through the most crooked labyrinths of life,and enables us to let into the deepest dungeons of despondency and doubt, the light of hope and of heaven.
Here, too, we find the powerful glass by which we can pierce the clouds that have so long obscured the full-orbed splendors of the divine benevolence. To some, indeed,—and they sagacious philosophers,—that cloud has seemed surcharged only with vengeance. And even to those who have caught occasional glimpses of the noble orb behind, the cloud over its face has always seemed to be tinged with some angry rays. Indeed, so long as this is a sinful state, justice will not allow all the glories of the divine goodness to be revealed. And yet, through the glass which philosophy and faith have put into our hands, we can see that the disk is a full-orbed circle, and that no spots mar and darken its clear surface. How gloriously, then, when all those clouds shall have passed away, and the last taint of evil shall have been blotted out by the final conflagration, shall that sun, in the new heavens, send down its light and heat upon the new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness!
On the other hand, how sad the prospect which the analogies of this subject open before him who misimproves his earthly probation, and goes out of the world unprepared for a higher and purer state of existence! If we can see reasons why on earth God should mingle goodness and severity in this man’s lot, we can also see reasons why the manifestations of benevolence should all be withdrawn when he passes into a state of retribution. For if an individual can resist the mighty influences for good which the present state of discipline affords, and only become worse under them all, his case is utterly hopeless, and Heaven can do no more, consistently with the eternal principles of the divine government, to savehim. Infinite benevolence gives him over, and no longer holds back the sword of retributive justice. Nay, the justice which inflicts the punishment is only benevolence in another form. And this it is that makes the infliction intolerable. How much more terrible to the wayward child are the blows inflicted by a weeping, affectionate father, than if received from an enemy! God is that affectionate Father; and he punishes only because he loves the universe more than the individual; and he has exhausted the stores of infinite mercy in vain to save him. Wicked men sometimes tell us that they are not afraid to trust themselves in the hands of infinite benevolence; whereas it is eminently this quality of the divine character which, above all others, they have reason to fear. For if, even in this world of probation and hope, God finds it necessary to mingle so much severity with goodness, what but a cup of unmingled bitterness shall be put into his hands who goes into eternity unrenewed and unpardoned, and finds that even infinite benevolence has become his eternal enemy!
UNITY OF THE DIVINE PLAN AND OPERATION IN ALL AGES OF THE WORLD’S HISTORY.
Contrivance, adaptation, and design are some of the most striking features of the natural world. They are obvious throughout the whole range of creation, in the minutest as well as in the most magnificent objects; in the most complicated as well as in the most simple. So universally present are they, that whenever we meet with any thing in nature which seems imperfectly adapted to other objects, as the organ of an animal or plant, which exhibits malformation, it excites general attention, and the mere child need not be told that, in its want of adaptation to other objects, it is an exception in the natural world.
In order to illustrate what I mean by contrivance, adaptation, and design, let me refer to a familiar example—the human eye. Made up of three coats and three humors, of solids and fluids, of nerves, blood-vessels, and muscles, and rivalling the most perfect optical instrument, it must have required the most consummate contrivance to give the requisite quantity and position to parts so numerous and unlike, for producing the phenomena of vision. Yet how perfectly it is done! How few, out of the hundreds of millions of eyes of men and other animals, fail of vision through any natural defect!
No less marvellous are the adaptations of the eye. In order to be adapted to the wonderful effect which we calllight, its coats and humors must be transparent, and possess a certain density and opacity, that the rays may form an image on the retina. Yet to prevent confusion in the image, the transparency must be confined to the central parts of the eye, and a dark plexus of veins and muscles must be so situated as to absorb the scattering rays. In order to adapt the eye to different distances, and to the greater or less intensity of the light, delicate muscles must be so situated as to contract and dilate the pupil, and lengthen and shorten the axis. That the eye might be directed to different objects, strong muscles must be attached to its posterior surface; and that the eyelid might defend it from injuries in front, a very peculiar muscle must give it power to close. No less perfect is the adaptation of the eye to the atmosphere, or, rather, there is a mutual adaptation; and it is as proper to say that the atmosphere is adapted to the eye, as that the eye is adapted to the atmosphere. In like manner, there is a striking relation between the eye and the sun and other heavenly bodies, and between the eye and day and night; so that we cannot doubt but they were made for one another. We might, indeed, extend the relations of the eye to every object in the universe; and the same may be said of every organ of plants and animals. The adaptation between them is as wide as creation. And it is the wonderful harmony between so many millions of objects that makes us feel that infinite wisdom alone could have produced it.
The design of the multiplied contrivances and adaptations exhibited by the eye is too obvious to need a formal statement. Comparatively few understand the wonderful mechanism of the eye; but we should consider it proof of idiotism, or insanity, for the weakest mind to doubt what is the object of the eye. This is, to be sure, a striking example. Butout of the many organs of animals, how few are there of which we do not see the design! And as the subject is more examined, the few excepted cases are made still fewer. They are more numerous in plants, because we cannot so well understand them, and because of their microscopic littleness. They are so few, however, throughout all nature, that they never produce a doubt that, for every individual thing in creation, there is a distinct object. If we confine our views to the most simple parts of matter, we can see design in them. If we take a wider view, and examine those minor systems which are produced by the grouping of the elements of matter, we shall see design there; and if we rise still higher in our examination, and compare systems still more extensive, until we group all material things, wise and beautiful design is still inscribed upon all. In fine, creation is but a series of harmonies, wheel within wheel, in countless variety, yet all forming one vast and perfect machine. Examine nature as widely and as minutely as we may, we never find one part clashing with another part; no laws, governing one portion of creation, different from those governing the others. Amid nature’s infinitely diversified productions and operations we find but one original model or pattern. As Dr. Paley finely expresses it, “We never get amongst such original or totally different modes of existence as to indicate that we are come into the province of a different Creator, or under the direction of a different will.” All appears to have been the work of one mighty mind, capable of devising and creating the vast system so perfectly that every part shall beautifully harmonize with every other part; a mind capable of holding in its capacious grasp at once the entire system, and seeing the relation and dependence of all its parts, from the minutest atom up to the mightiest world. In short, the unityof design which pervades all creation is perfect, more so than we witness in the most finished machine of human construction; for
“In human works, though labored on with pain,A thousand movements scarce one object gain;In God’s, one single can its end produce,Yet serves to second too some other use.”
Such are the wonderful contrivance, adaptation, and design which the material world every where exhibits. But the geologist carries us back through periods of immense antiquity, and digs out from the deep strata evidences of other systems of organic life, which have flourished and passed away; other economies, which have existed on the globe anterior to the present. And how was it with these? Had they any relation to the existing system? Were they governed by different laws, or are they all but parts of one great and harmonious system, embracing the whole of the earth’s past duration? We could not decide these questions beforehand; but geology brings to light unequivocal evidence that the latter supposition is the true one; that is, in the language of the poet,—
“All are but parts of one stupendous whole,Whose body nature is, and God the soul.”
To present the evidence of this conclusion will be my object in this lecture.
In the first place, the laws of chemistry and crystallography, electricity and magnetism, have ever been the same in all past conditions of the earth.
Chemistry has attained to such a degree of perfection thatthe analyst can now determine the composition of the various vegetable, animal, and mineral substances which he meets, with an extreme degree of accuracy. In many instances, he can do this in two ways. He can always separate the elements which exist in a compound, and ascertain their relative quantity; and this is calledanalysis. And sometimes he can take those elements and cause them to unite, so as to form a particular compound; and this is calledsynthesis. By these methods he has ascertained that, amid the vast variety of substances in nature, there are only about sixty-four which cannot be reduced to a more simple form, and are therefore calledelements, or simple substances. Now, the chemist finds that, when these elements unite to form compounds, certain fixed laws are invariably followed. They combine in definite quantities, which are always the same, or some multiple of the same weight; so that each element has its peculiar and invariable combining weight; and it cannot be made to combine in any other proportion. You may mix two or more elements together in any proportion, but it is only a certain definite quantity of each that will combine, while the rest will remain in excess. Hence the same compound substance, from whatever part of the world it comes, or under however diverse circumstances produced, consists of the same ingredients in the same proportion. These laws are followed with mathematical precision, and we have reason to believe that the same compound substance, produced in different parts of the world, never differs in its composition by the smallest conceivable particle. Indeed, with the exception of the planetary motions and crystallography, chemical combination is the most perfect example of practical mathematics to be found in nature.
Such are the laws which the chemist finds invariably toregulate all the changes that now take place in the constitution of bodies. What evidence is there that the same laws have ever prevailed? In the rocks we have chemical compounds, produced in all ages of the world’s history, since fire and water began to form solid masses. Now, these may be, and have been, analyzed; and the same laws of definite proportion in the ingredients, which now operate, are found to have controlled their formation. The oldest granite and gneiss, which must have been the earliest rocks produced, are just as invariable in their composition as the most recent salt formed in the laboratory. And the same is true of the silicates, the carbonates, the sulphates, the oxides, chlorides, fluorides, and other compounds which constitute the rocks of different ages. We never find any produced under the operation of different laws.
Now, the almost invariable opinion among chemists is, that the reason why the elements unite thus definitely is, that they are in different electrical states, and therefore attract one another. Hence the most important laws of electricity have been coeval with those of chemistry; indeed, they are identical; nor can we doubt, if such be the fact, that every other electrical law has remained unchanged from the beginning. And from the intimate connection, if not complete identity, between electricity and magnetism, it is impossible to doubt that the laws which regulate the latter are of equal antiquity with those of the former. Indeed, we find evidence in all the rocks, especially those which are prismatic and concretionary, of the active influence of galvanism and electro-magnetism in their production.
The reasoning is equally decisive to prove the unchanging character of the laws which regulate the formation of crystals. The chemist finds that the same substance, when itcrystallizes, invariably takes the same geometrical forms. The nucleus or primary form, with a few exceptions, of no importance in the present argument, to which all these secondary forms may be reduced by change, is one particular solid, with unvarying angles; and all the secondary forms, built upon the primary, correspond in their angles. In short, in crystallography we have another example of perfect practical mathematics, as perfect as the theory.
Now, the oldest rocks in the globe contain crystals, and so do the rocks of all ages, sometimes of the same kind as those produced in the chemist’s laboratory. And they are found to correspond precisely. It matters not whether they were the produce of nature’s laboratory countless ages ago, or of the skill of the nineteenth century,—the same mathematics ruled in their formation with a precision which infinite wisdom alone could secure.
In the second place, the laws of meteorology have ever been the same as at present.
Under meteorological laws I include all atmospheric phenomena. And although we have no direct proof from geology in respect to the more rare of these phenomena, such as the aurora borealis and australis, and transient meteors, yet in respect to the existence of clouds, wind, and rain, the evidence is quite striking. In several places in Europe, and in many in this country, are found, upon layers of the new red sandstone, the distinct impressions of rain drops, made when the rock was fine mud. They correspond precisely with the indentations which falling rain-drops now make upon mud, and they show us that the phenomena of clouds and storms existed in that remote period, and that the vapor was condensed as at present. In the fact that the animals entombed in the rocks of various ages are found to have had organs ofrespiration, we also infer the existence of an atmosphere analogous to that which we now breathe. The rain-drops enable us to proceed one step farther; for often they are elongated in one direction, showing that they struck the ground obliquely, doubtless in consequence of wind. In short, the facts stated enable us to infer, with strong probability, that atmospheric phenomena were then essentially the same as at present; and analogy leads us to a similar conclusion as to all the past periods of the world’s history, certainly since animals were placed upon it. What a curious register do these rain-drops present us! an engraving on stone of a shower that fell thousands and thousands of ages ago! They often become, too, an anemoscope, pointing out the direction of the wind, while the petrified surface shows us just how many drops fell, quite as accurately as the most delicate pluviameter. What events in the earth’s pre-Adamic history would seem less likely to come down to us than the pattering of a shower?
In the third place, the agents of geological change appear to have been always the same on the earth.
Whoever goes into a careful examination of the rocks will soon become satisfied that no fragment of them all remains in the condition in which it was originally created. Whatever was the original form in which matter was produced, there is no longer any example of it to be found. The evidence of these changes is as strong almost as that constant changes are going on in human society. And we find them constantly progressing among the rocks, as well as among men; nor do the agents by which they are produced appear to have been ever different from those now in operation. The two most important are heat and water; and it is doubtful whether there is a single particle of the globe which has not experienced the metamorphic action of the one or the other. Indeed, it isnearly certain that every portion of the globe has been melted, if not volatilized. All the unstratified rocks have certainly been fused, and probably all the stratified rocks originated from the unstratified, and have been modified by water and heat. In many of these rocks, especially the oldest, we perceive evidence of the joint action of both these agents. Evidently they were once aqueous deposits; but they appear to have been subsequently subjected to powerful heat. As we ascend on the scale of the stratified rocks, the marks of fire diminish, and those of water multiply, so that the latest are mere mechanical or chemical depositions from water.
In these facts, then, we see proof that heat and water have been the chief agents of geological change since the first formation of a solid crust on the globe; for some of the rocks now accessible, as already stated, date their origin at that early period. We might also trace back the agency of heat much farther, if the hypothesis adopted by not a few eminent geologists be true, which supposes the earth to have been once in a gaseous state from intense heat. But to press this point will add very little to my argument, even could I sustain it by plausible reasoning. I will only say, that, so far as we know any thing of the state of the earth previous to the consolidation of its crust, heat appears to have been the chief agent concerned in its geological changes.
Among other agencies of less importance, that have always operated geologically, is gravity. Its chief effect, at present is to bring the earth’s surface nearer and nearer to a level, by causing the materials, which other agencies have loosened from its salient parts, to subside into its cavities and valleys. It also condenses many substances from a gaseous to a liquid or solid state, especially those deep in the earth’s crust, and thus brings the particles more within the reach of cohesiveattraction and chemical affinity, often changing the constitution, and always the solidity, of bodies. And in the position of the ancient mechanical rocks, occupying as they do the former basins of the surface, and in the superior consolidation of the earlier strata, we find proof of the action of gravity in all past geological time.
Electricity too, in the form of galvanism, has never been idle. We have reason to think that it operates at this moment in accumulating metallic ores in veins; and this segregation appears to have operated in all ages, not only in filling veins, but also, probably, in giving a laminated character and jointed structure to mountains of slate, as well as a concretionary and prismatic form to others.
Last, though not least, we may reckon among the agents of geological change the forces of cohesion and affinity. When water and heat, gravity and galvanism, have brought the atoms of bodies into a proper state, these agents are always ready to change their form and constitution; and they have ever been at hand to operate by the same laws, and we witness their effects in the oldest as well as the newest rocks found in the earth’s crust. This point, however, has been sufficiently considered, when treating of the unvarying uniformity of the laws of chemistry and crystallography.
But though the nature of the agencies above considered has never changed, the intensity or amount of their action has varied; how much is a point not yet settled among geologists. Some regard that intensity, as it has existed during the present or alluvial period, as a standard for all preceding periods; that is, the intensity of these forces has never varied more during any period of the earth’s history than it has since the alluvial period commenced. Most geologists, however, regard this as an extreme opinion, and think they see evidence ingeology of a far greater intensity in these agencies in past periods than exists at present. They think they have proof that the world was once only a molten mass of matter, and some evidence that previously it was in a state of vapor. They believe that vast mountains, and even continents, have sometimes been thrown up from the ocean’s bed by a single mighty paroxysmal effort; and such effects they know to be far greater than the causes of change now in operation can produce, without a vast increase of their intensity. But this question need neither be discussed nor decided for the sake of my present argument, since my object is to prove an identity in the nature and laws, not in the intensity, of geological agencies.
In the fourth place, the laws of zoölogy and botany have always been the same on the globe.
An examination of the animals now living, amounting to some hundred thousand species, perhaps to one or two millions, shows that they may be arranged in four great classes. The first class embraces the vertebral animals, distinguished by having a vertebral column, or back-bone, a regular skeleton, and a regular nervous system. It comprehends all the quadrupeds and bipeds, with man at their head, and is much superior to all other classes in complexity of organization and strength of the mental powers. The second class embraces the mollusks, or animals inhabiting shells. They are destitute of a spinal marrow, and for the most part their muscles are attached to the external covering, called the shell, although this shell is sometimes internal. The third class are called articulated animals, having envelopes connected by annulated plates, or rings. It includes such animals as the lobster, bloodsucker, spider, and insects generally. The fourth class have a radiated structure, and often resembleplants, or their habitation is a stony structure. Hence they are sometimes called zoöphytes, which meansanimal plants; or lithophytes, which meansstony plants. They swarm in the ocean, and some of them build up those extensive stony structures called coral reefs.
Now, if we examine the descriptions of the organic remains in the rocks, we find that in all ages of the world these four great classes of animals have existed. But in the earliest times, the three last classes—the mollusks, the articulated, and the radiated tribes—vastly preponderated, while the vertebral class had only a few representatives; and it is not till we rise as high as the new red sandstone, that we meet with any, except fishes, save a few batrachians in the old red sandstone, and the carboniferous group, detected alone by their tracks. Then the reptiles began to appear in abundance, with tortoises and enormous birds of a low organization, but no mammiferous animal is found, until we reach the oölite; and scarcely any till we rise to the tertiary strata, when they became abundant; but not so numerous as at present, though for the most part of larger size. Thus we find that the more perfect animals have been developed gradually, becoming more and more complex as we rise on the scale of the rocks. But in the three other classes, there does not appear to have been much advance upon the original types, although in numbers and variety there has been a great increase.
The plants now growing upon the globe, amounting probably to nearly one hundred thousand species, are divided into two great classes, by a very decided character. Some of them have distinct flowers, and others are destitute of them. The former are called phenogamian, or flowering plants; and the latter cryptogamian, or flowerless plants.
At present, the flowering plants very much predominate inthe flora of every country. But in the earliest periods of organic existence, the reverse was the case. We find, indeed but very few flowering plants, and these of a character somewhat intermediate between flowering and flowerless; such as the coniferæ and cycadeæ, including the pine tribe. A few palms appeared almost as early, and some other monocotyledons. But most of the dicotyledons did not appear till the tertiary period, where more than two hundred species have been found. Of the three hundred species found in and beneath the carboniferous group, two thirds are tree ferns, or gigantic equisetaceæ. More than one third of the entire flora of the secondary formation consists of cycadeæ; whereas, this family of plants forms not more than the two thousandth part of the existing flora. In short, we find the more perfect plants as well as animals to be few in the earliest periods, and to have been gradually introduced up to the present time. But as to the flowerless plants, most of them seem to have been as perfect at first as they now are.
These facts teach us conclusively that the outlines of organic life on the globe have always been the same; that the great classes of animals and plants have always had their representatives, and that the variations which have been introduced, have been merely adaptations to the varying condition of the earth’s surface. The higher and more complex natures, both of animals and plants, were not introduced at first, because the surface was not adapted to their existence; and they were brought in only as circumstances, favorable to their development, prepared the way.
There is another fact of great interest on this subject. Even a cursory examination of the animals and plants now on the globe, shows such a gradation of their characters that they form a sort of chain, extending from the most to the leastperfect species. But we see at once that the links of this chain are of very unequal length; or, rather, that there are in some instances wide intervals between the nearest species, as if one or more links had dropped out. How remarkable that some of these lost links should be found among the fossil species! I will refer to a few examples.
Among existing animals no genera or tribes are more widely separated than those with thick skins, denominated pachydermata; such as the rhinoceros and the elephant. But among the fossil animals of the tertiary strata, this tribe of animals was much more common; and many of them fill up the blanks in the existing families, and thus render more perfect and uniform the great chain of being which binds together into one great system the present and past periods of organic life.
A similar case occurs among fossil plants. In tropical climates we find a few species—not much over twenty—of a singular family of plants, the cycadeæ connecting the great families of coniferæ, or dicotyledons, with the palms, which are monocotyledonous, and the ferns, which are acotyledonous. The chasm, however, between those great and dissimilar classes of plants is but imperfectly filled by the few living species of cycadeæ. But of the fossil species hitherto found above the coal formation, almost one half are cycadeæ; so that here, too, the lost links of the chain are supplied.
“Facts like these,” says Dr. Buckland, “are inestimably precious to the natural theologian, for they identify, as it were, the Artificer, by details of manipulation throughout his works. They appeal to the physiologist, in language more commanding than human eloquence; the voice of very stocks and stones, that have been buried for countless ages in the deep recesses of the earth, proclaiming the universal agencyof one all-directing, all-sustaining Creator, in whose will and power these harmonious systems originated, and by whose universal providence they are, and have at all times been, maintained.”—Bridgewater Treatise, vol. i. p. 502.
One other fact, showing the identity of former zoölogical laws with those which now prevail, must not be omitted. I refer to the existence on the globe in all past periods of organic life of the two great classes of carnivorous and herbivorous animals; and they have always existed, too, in about the same proportion. To the harmony and happiness of the present system, we know that the existence and proper relative number of these different classes are indispensable. For in order that the greatest possible number of animals that live on vegetable food should exist, they must possess the power of rapid multiplication, so that there should be born a much larger number than is necessary to people the earth. But if there existed no carnivorous races to keep in check this redundancy of population, the world would soon become so filled with the herbivorous races that famine would be the consequence, and thus a much greater amount of suffering result than the sudden death inflicted by carnivorous races now produces. To preserve, then, a proper balance between the different species is, doubtless, the object of the creation of the carnivorous. This system has been aptly denominated “the police of nature.” And we find it to have always existed. The earliest vertebral animals—the sauroid fishes and sharks—were of this description. The sharks have always lived, but the sauroid fishes became less numerous when other marine saurians were created; and when they both nearly disappeared, during the tertiary period, other predaceous families were introduced, more like those now in existence.
The history of the mollusks, or animals inhabiting shells,furnishes us with an example still more striking. These animals, as they now exist, are divisible into the two great classes of carnivorous and herbivorous species, being distinguished by their anatomical structure; and so has it ever been. In the fossiliferous rocks below the tertiary, we find immense numbers of nautili, ammonites, and other kindred genera of polythalamous shells, called cephalopods, which were all carnivorous. And when they nearly disappeared with the cretaceous period, there was created another race with carnivorous propensities and organs, called trachelipods; and those continue still to swarm in the ocean. Had they not appeared when the cephalopods passed away, the herbivorous tribes would have multiplied to such an extent as ultimately to destroy marine vegetation, and bring on famine among themselves.