ency in one who, of course, believes no more in Evander than in Romulus. That he makes this charge in good faith, is shown by his quoting in full the passage referred to, in which Mommsen admits that tradition is right in ascribing the introduction of letters to Evander or Hercules, -meaning, of course, to Greek influence, to which it is known that Mommsen attaches very great weight. He then proceeds: "Von den Pelasgern in Arcadien sei die Schrift nach Latium gekommen," &c.,-sei, not ist; that is, "this is the statement:" and whoever infers from this passage that Mommsen believes in Evander, may equally well infer that he believes in Hercules.

In conclusion, we will say that Mr. Dyer's discussion of constitutional questions is generally sound and satisfactory. He always holds more implicitly to the letter of the record than appears to us judicious; and this habit entirely destroys the value of his speculations for the earliest times. But for the character of the positive institutions this testimony is much more genuine than for their origin or the chronological outline of events; and we do not know, that, on the whole, a more satisfactory discussion of these points is to be found in the English language.

ART. V. — THE FAITH OF SCIENCE AND THE SCIENCE OF FAITH.

An Address delivered before the Ministerial Conference in Boston, May 27, 1868. By C. C. EVERETT.

THE words faith and science are often used as if they stood to one another in a relation not merely of antithesis, but in one of opposition and exclusion. We often speak of the realm of faith and the realm of science, as if each was a world by itself. As soon as an object enters the realm of science, we are apt to feel that it has left the realm of faith; and so long as an object remains in the realm of faith, it is felt to be, by that fact, excluded from the realm of science. Many believe that the realm of science is surely and steadily encroaching upon that of faith; and many are looking, some with dread and some with hope, to see the realm of faith becoming smaller and smaller, until at last there will be no place left for it, and science shall reign supreme and alone. Indeed, this antagonism between faith and science is felt by many to constitute the great dramatic or even tragic interest of the present age.

There is

This whole view, however, is founded upon error. no such thing as a realm of science apart from the realm of faith. There is no exclusion or opposition in the relation of science and faith. They have to do with the same facts. They represent simply different sides of the same knowledge. Faith, we may say, furnishes the basis, and science the superstructure; or we may say that faith furnishes the material, and science elaborates this material into its perfect form. Faith, we may say, is the nebula, and science the completed world which is developed out of it. Or, better still, faith may be represented by the great law of attraction in its varied forms, while science is the solid-seeming world that is bound together and upheld by this. Thus there is no science that does not imply a corresponding faith, and there is no faith that is not capable of a scientific elaboration. The only difference

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between what we call the realm of science and what we call the realm of faith is, that the realm of faith is the broadest, for the reason that the whole extent of it has not yet been developed into science. So far as science extends, its field is identical with that of faith. The progress of science neither encroaches upon nor limits faith. It simply elaborates more and more of the material of faith into its fitting and true form. But the material is still as truly that of faith, as it was in its simplest and most unformed state. It is because I consider this relation a vital one, that I have selected, or rather accepted, it for my theme on the present occasion. Our great theological necessity is felt to be that of giving to our faith a scientific form; but this work cannot be approached, or its methods considered, without first taking note of the faith which is the basis of what in our common speech we term science. The study of the faith of science is the essential introduction to a comprehension of the nature of the science of faith.

The faith on which the magnificent structure of our science rests is twofold, or rather it acts in a manner which may be best considered under two distinct heads. In the first place, it gives to science the real world which is its field. I need not spend many words to illustrate the fact, which is recognized even by our most simple and primary works on metaphysics, that we have only certain sensations, which we organize into a world. We cannot by any reasoning get beyond these. Every man carries his own world in his own brain. The mountains, the oceans, the stars, the cities, the men he meets, the heroes that he honors, whether of the past or the present, these are all the scenery and the inhabitants of his own mind. It is only by faith that he gives to these an outward reality. He does this for no reason, but simply because he cannot help it. Their objective reality can neither be proved nor disproved. The belief in it is above, or beneath, all proof. It is stronger even than the instinct of life. I need not illustrate this by reference to the fact, that a man will die for one of these phantoms of his brain. We need simply refer to the fact, that the man believes himself, in any way and to any degree, mortal. Because these figures that flit across the inner world which he carries

with him pass at last and do not return, he believes that he also shall pass and shall not return. Because the figures that take part in these tragic or comic scenes die, the great stage and theatre shall also disappear. In a word, the man puts himself, for life or for death, upon a level with this population of his own mind, with this creation of his own thought. This unconscious condescension shows how strong is the faith which gives to us the real world of things, of persons and events,which is a world of faith, and of faith only. It may be remarked, in passing, that the truth that has just been referred to shows how impossible it is for the mind ever to receive any proof from the outward world that shall disturb its faith in its own immortality; for

"The mind is like the sky,—

Than all it holds more deep, more high."

If the reality of the outward world, and thus the very field. and material of science, is given by faith, no less does faith, in the second place, furnish the methods of science. Science is a constant progress from the seen to the unseen. By the mighty instrumentality of induction, it makes the little knowledge that rests upon experience the basis of a vaster knowledge, that stretches far beyond the reach of any possible experience. From a few cases it reasons to all similar cases. From the past it reasons to the future. It is as confident in regard to the future, as it is in regard to the past; as confident in regard to the facts it has not witnessed, as in regard to those that are most familiar to its experience. By what right does it thus pass from the few to the many, from the seen to the unseen, from the past to the future? Hume affirmed that the mind had no such right and power; yet the mind continually exercises this right and this power. What, then, is the basis of our faith in the inductions of science? It is interesting to see how loath the human mind is to give up belief in outward foundations and supports, and the naïve confidence with which it assumes them. Nothing is more natural than the Hindoo theory, that the earth rests upon an elephant, and the elephant upon a tortoise; or than that of the old lady who

believed that the earth rested upon a rock, and that upon another, and that there were rocks all the way down. The mind naturally assumes a foundation, and it is long before the question forces itself, "Upon what does this foundation rest?" So it lays rocks beneath the earth, or places a patient elephant beneath it; it forms crystal spheres to support the stars, and thinks that all is firmly based. We can now hardly realize the importance of the revolution by which the mind reaches the conviction, that there is no outward support for any thing; that there is no point of rest in all the material universe; that every thing floats, if that can be said to float that is not even upheld by any medium; that sun and moon and stars, and the earth itself, move through the infinite space upheld by nothing; that there is no arch for the stars, no pillars for the earth; that there is only vacancy above and below every thing. A revolution similar to this has yet to be accomplished in the world of the mind and the spirit. We return to the question, On what rests our faith in the inductions of science? John Stuart Mill affirms, with naïve simplicity like that of the old lady who thought that there were rocks all the way down, that faith in induction rests upon induction; in other words, that there is induction all the way down. He says this with some slight circumlocution indeed, but this is the condensed substance of his statement.* I know not whether the view of such a mighty intellect, resting so unquestioningly on such

* His words are: "Whatever be the most proper mode of expressing it, the proposition that the course of nature is uniform is the fundamental principle, or general axiom, of Induction. It would yet be a great error to offer this large generalization as any explanation of the inductive process. On the contrary, I hold it to be itself an instance of induction by no means of the most obvious kind."- Logic, book iii. chap. 3, 1.

He further explains his meaning thus: "We arrive at this universal law [of causation] by generalization from many laws of inferior generality. The generalizing propensity, which, instinctive or not, is one of the most powerful principles of our nature, does not indeed wait for the period when such a generalization becomes strictly legitimate. The mere unreasoning propensity to expect what has been often experienced, doubtless led men to believe that every thing had a cause, before they could have conclusive evidence of that truth. But even this cannot be supposed to have happened until many cases of causation, or, in other words, many partial uniformities of sequence, had become familiar."-Ib. chap. xxi. 1.