This is the very point which we have sought to bring home to our logicians and physicists. As Mr. Mill himself says, “We cannot admit a proposition as a law of nature, and yet believe a fact in real contradiction to it. We must disbelieve the alleged fact, or believe that we were mistaken in admitting the supposed law.” Mr. Hume cites the “firm and unalterable experience” of mankind, as establishing the laws whose operation ipso facto makes miracles impossible. The difficulty lies in his use of the adjective which is Italicized, for this is an assumption that our experience will never change, and that, as a consequence, we will always have the same experiments and observations upon which to base our judgment. It also assumes that all philosophers will have the same facts to reflect upon. It also entirely ignores such collected accounts of philosophical experiment and scientific discovery as we may have been temporarily deprived of. Thus, by the burning of the Alexandrian Library and the destruction of Nineveh, the world has been for many centuries without the necessary data upon which to estimate the real knowledge, esoteric and exoteric, of the ancients. But, within the past few years, the discovery of the Rosetta stone, the Ebers, d’Aubigney, Anastasi, and other papyri, and the exhumation of the tile-libraries, have opened a field of archæological research which is likely to lead to radical changes in this “firm and unalterable experience.” The author of Supernatural Religion justly observes that “a person who believes anything contradictory to a complete induction, merely on the strength of an assumption which is incapable of proof, is simply credulous; but such an assumption cannot affect the real evidence for that thing.”
In a lecture delivered by Mr. Hiram Corson, Professor of Anglo-Saxon Literature at the Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y., before the alumni of St. John’s College, Annapolis, in July, 1875, the lecturer thus deservedly rebukes science:
“There are things,” he says, “which Science can never do, and which it is arrogant in attempting to do. There was a time when Religion and the Church went beyond their legitimate domain, and invaded and harried that of Science, and imposed a burdensome tribute upon the latter; but it would seem that their former relations to each other are undergoing an entire change, and Science has crossed its frontiers and is invading the domain of Religion and the Church, and instead of a Religious Papacy, we are in danger of being brought under a Scientific Papacy—we are in fact already brought under such a Papacy; and as in the sixteenth century a protest was made, in the interests of intellectual freedom, against a religious and ecclesiastical despotism, so, in this nineteenth century, the spiritual and eternal interests of man demand that a protest should be made against a rapidly-developing scientific despotism, and that Scientists should not only keep within their legitimate domain of the phenomenal and the conditioned, but should ‘reëxamine their stock in trade, so that we may make sure how far the stock of bullion in the cellar—on the faith of whose existence so much paper has been circulating—is really the solid gold of Truth.’
“If this is not done in science as well as in ordinary business, scientists are apt to put their capital at too high a figure, and accordingly carry on a dangerously-inflated business. Even since Prof. Tyndall delivered his Belfast Address, it has been shown, by the many replies it has elicited, that the capital of the Evolution-School of Philosophy to which he belongs, is not near so great as it was before vaguely supposed to be by many of the non-scientific but intelligent portion of the world. It is quite surprising to a non-scientific person to be made aware of the large purely hypothetical domain which surrounds that of established science, and of which scientists often boast, as a part of their settled and available conquests.”
Exactly; and at the same time denying the same privilege to others. They protest against the “miracles” of the Church, and repudiate, with as much logic, modern phenomena. In view of the admission of such scientific authorities as Dr. Youmans and others that modern science is passing through a transitional period, it would seem that it is time that people should cease to consider certain things incredible only because they are marvellous, and because they seem to oppose themselves to what we are accustomed to consider universal laws. There are not a few well-meaning men in the present century who, desiring to avenge the memory of such martyrs of science as Agrippa, Palissy, and Cardan, nevertheless fail, through lack of means, to understand their ideas rightly. They erroneously believe that the Neo-platonists gave more attention to transcendental philosophy than to exact science.
“The failures that Aristotle himself so often exhibits,” remarks Professor Draper, “are no proof of the unreliability of his method, but rather of its trustworthiness. They are failures arising from want of a sufficiency of facts.”[637]
What facts? we might inquire. A man of science cannot be expected to admit that these facts can be furnished by occult science, since he does not believe in the latter. Nevertheless, the future may demonstrate this verity. Aristotle has bequeathed his inductive method to our scientists; but until they supplement it with “the universals of Plato,” they will experience still more “failures” than the great tutor of Alexander. The universals are a matter of faith only so long as they cannot be demonstrated by reason and based on uninterrupted experience. Who of our present-day philosophers can prove by this same inductive method that the ancients did not possess such demonstrations as a consequence of their esoteric studies? Their own negations, unsupported as they are by proof, sufficiently attest that they do not always pursue the inductive method they so much boast of. Obliged as they are to base their theories, nolens volens, on the groundwork of the ancient philosophers, their modern discoveries are but the shoots put forth by the germs planted by the former. And yet even these discoveries are generally incomplete, if not abortive. Their cause is involved in obscurity and their ultimate effect unforeseen.“ We are not,” says Professor Youmans, “to regard past theories as mere exploded errors, nor present theories as final. The living and growing body of truth has only mantled its old integuments in the progress to a higher and more vigorous state.”[638] This language, applied to modern chemistry by one of the first philosophical chemists and most enthusiastic scientific writers of the day, shows the transitional state in which we find modern science; but what is true of chemistry is true of all its sister sciences.
Since the advent of spiritualism, physicians and pathologists are more ready than ever to treat great philosophers like Paracelsus and Van Helmont as superstitious quacks and charlatans, and to ridicule their notions about the archæus, or anima mundi, as well as the importance they gave to a knowledge of the machinery of the stars. And yet, how much of substantial progress has medicine effected since the days when Lord Bacon classed it among the conjectural sciences?
Such philosophers as Demokritus, Aristotle, Euripides, Epicurus, or rather his biographer, Lucretius, Æschylus, and other ancient writers, whom the materialists so willingly quote as authoritative opponents of the dreamy Platonists, were only theorists, not adepts. The latter, when they did write, either had their works burned by Christian mobs or they worded them in a way to be intelligible only to the initiated. Who of their modern detractors can warrant that he knows all about what they knew? Diocletian alone burned whole libraries of works upon the “secret arts;” not a manuscript treating on the art of making gold and silver escaped the wrath of this unpolished tyrant. Arts and civilization had attained such a development at what is now termed the archaic ages that we learn, through Champollion, that Athothi, the second king of the first dynasty, wrote a work on anatomy, and the king Necho on astrology and astronomy. Blantasus and Cynchrus were two learned geographers of those pre-Mosaic days. Ælian speaks of the Egyptian Iachus, whose memory was venerated for centuries for his wonderful achievements in medicine. He stopped the progress of several epidemics, merely with certain fumigations. A work of Apollonides, surnamed Orapios, is mentioned by Theophilus, patriarch of Antioch, entitled the Divine Book, and giving the secret biography and origin of all the gods of Egypt; and Ammianus Marcellinus speaks of a secret work in which was noted the precise age of the bull Apis—a key to many a mystery and cyclic calculation. What has become of all these books, and who knows the treasures of learning they may have contained? We know but one thing for a certainty, and that is, that Pagan and Christian Vandals destroyed such literary treasures wherever they could find them; and that the emperor Alexander Severus went all over Egypt to collect the sacred books on mysticism and mythology, pillaging every temple; and that the Ethiopians—old as were the Egyptians in arts and sciences—claimed a priority of antiquity as well as of learning over them; as well they might, for they were known in India at the earliest dawn of history. We also know that Plato learned more secrets in Egypt than he was allowed to mention; and that, according to Champollion, all that is really good and scientific in Aristotle’s works—so prized in our day by our modern inductionists—is due to his divine Master; and that, as a logical sequence, Plato having imparted the profound secrets he had learned from the priests of Egypt to his initiated disciples orally—who in their turn passed it from one generation to another of adepts—the latter know more of the occult powers of nature than our philosophers of the present day.
And here we may as well mention the works of Hermes Trismegistus. Who, or how many have had the opportunity to read them as they were in the Egyptian sanctuaries? In his Egyptian Mysteries, Iamblichus attributes to Hermes 1,100 books, and Seleucus reckons no less than 20,000 of his works before the period of Menes. Eusebius saw but forty-two of these “in his time,” he says, and the last of the six books on medicine treated on that art as practiced in the darkest ages;[639] and Diodorus says that it was the oldest of the legislators Mnevis, the third successor of Menes, who received them from Hermes.