Napoleon is said to have remarked to Dr. Antomarchi, at St. Helena, "You physicians are unbelievers because you cannot find the soul with your dissecting knife." However applicable this might have been to physicians of that day, it would fail of application now, since, by means of the microscope, man has been able to penetrate still more deeply into the recesses of nature's mysteries. With this instrument, science has been able to detect the beginnings of living structure, and to trace the fundamental laws of the process of development.
Chemistry has also done its part in investigating this phenomena. From these sources we learn the mutual relation, as well as individuality of all organic things. From the inorganic world, directly or indirectly, the bodies of all living things originate, and to it, naturally, they all return. By some power, unseen to mortal eyes, matter is arranged in new forms; and these forms, after using the matter thus arranged, restore it again to the physical world. In this manner is kept up the wonderful circle of organic life. Scientists, though skeptically inclined, agree that there must have first existed an animated germ, the product of a previously-existing organism, which draws in and appropriates the inorganic elements, combines these elements into organisms, builds up an organized fabric, and discards, finally, the atoms and implements which it can no longer use. What this organism is we cannot fully explain, since it is evident that it is of such a refined or sublimated nature as to elude the grasp of science in its present stage of development. By no means, at our disposal, are we capable of rigidly examining it by our bodily senses.
To illustrate this subject, and at the same time to show the superiority and independence of the "vital principle," as it is called, or organizing spirit, to the cruder matter it uses, let us consider the history of a single microscopic atom, as it is used in the service of life. By some means—understood only by the Creator—it has become mysteriously endowed with life. Let us suppose its first connection with vitality to be in the simplest form of animated matter—that of the protoplasm. We find, on examination, that this protoplasm possesses what scientists call the "essential conditions of life," namely sensibility, contractibility and assimilation. We find that this atom of living jelly—for such it really is—is endowed with the power of selecting nutriment from the inorganic matter around it for the support of its own existence. After a time it forms itself into a simple cell, a bladder-like form inclosing a fluid substance, and containing a few moving granules. After a time, this cell multiplies itself, that is, gives birth to a number of cells like itself. These are inclosed in the original cell, which at last bursts and sets them free. All scientists agree that "protoplasm is the physical basis of life." Now whence comes this wonderful principle which endows the protoplasm with the "essential conditions of life," and presses into its service the atoms and the laws of the material universe? Its effects are too palpable to allow a denial of its existence, while its power over earthly matter proves that it is distinct from it. Although too subtle to be analyzed by the philosopher, its existence is suggestive of the highest truths. It speaks to us of a spiritual world—a world to which the visible world is subservient, and which is itself unaffected by the many changes which take place around us.
Among the many theories which infidels have profounded, one of the most common is that which declares that life is the result of organization. This argument, like many others, is only an old one with a modern dress. We find in Plato's "Phaedo," that when Simmias argued against the immortality of the soul, the wise and good Socrates opposed him, proving that the soul existed before the body, as shown by the fact of pre-existent ideas. For example, the idea of goodness must necessarily exist, before we are able to form an opinion concerning goodness. Infidels tell us that the idea of virtue is merely the harmony of the soul; but if the soul itself is only the "harmonious result of organization," then virtue is simply the harmony of a harmony, which is absurd. Socrates further showed that parts of the soul may be opposed to each other, as desire and reason, for example; and this fact overthrows the idea of harmony. Thus even a pagan philosopher could deal fatal blows against the positivism of his age as well as against the pretended wisdom of the nineteenth century.
Some tell that "no idea or feeling can arise, save as the result of some physical force expended in producing it." That because light, heat, electricity and motion are closely related, therefore they are the cause of life. As well might we say that the art and skill observed in a beautiful building were the offspring of the house itself, or that the architect was the result of a beautiful suite of rooms. In other words, the relation of cause and effect are completely reversed.
Yet we are told that heat, motion, electricity and chemical affinity are the causes of mental and moral action. This principle is even applied to the progress of civilization, and the statistics of crime; and Mr Herbert Spencer has made it the foundation of his new system of philosophy. Stripped of its parade and tinsel, however, this theory is nothing but the old pantheism revived. It is the desperate effort of infidelity to press into its service the researches of modern physiology and anatomy, as has formerly been tried with astronomy and geology; but each of these sciences refuses an alliance with skepticism, and incontrovertibly points to a Creator and a spiritual world.
Let the honest skeptic inquire, "How do these theories explain the cause of life? Do they show us a single reason why some parts of matter become organized and others do not? Do they make plain why one cell develops a vegetable and another an animal, no perceptible difference existing between them, and the circumstances of each being the same except originating from different parentage? Can these philosophers tell us what they mean by physical force? Is it matter; or is it a creative power, or energy added to matter?"
An answer to these questions would cut the Gordian knot. While science stands on the very confines of a spiritual world, and points across the boundary, why should we fear to look in that direction, or spurn the guidance of that faith which would lead us to higher truths.
It may not be out of place to mention a few of the leading faculties of the mind, to show its independence.
Consciousness, that is, the knowledge which the mind has of its own operations. Perception, or the evidence we have of external objects by our senses. Memory, which implies a former conscious experience, its retention, revival and recognition. Imagination is a term used to represent the power which the mind has of combining ideas previously received. In its highest degree, imagination rises to the sphere of creative fancy, or poetic power.