[19]. “Homo naturæ minister et interpres, tantum facit et intelligit quantum de naturæ ordine re vel mente observaverit: nec amplius scit aut potest.”—Novum Organum, Aphor. I.
[20]. Sir J. Herschel.
A great principle, like that which we are about to explain to the reader, is too vast in its bearings for its discovery and elaboration to have been the work of an individual. This truth, and indeed the whole of our knowledge, is but the result of the development and growth of pre-existing knowledge. In fact, every discovery, however brilliant—every invention, however ingenious, is but the expansion or improvement of an antecedent discovery or invention. In strictness, therefore, it is impossible to say where the first germ of even our newest notions may be found. Our latest philosophy can be shown to be the result of progressive modifications of ideas of remote ages. Hence every great truth, every grand invention, has in reality been the offspring of many minds; but we record as the discoverers and inventors those men who have made the longest strides in the path of progress, and whose genius and labours have overcome obstacles defying ordinary efforts.
The extent of the field which is covered by the principle we have in view is so vast—embracing, as it does, the whole phenomena of the universe—that it will not be possible to do more within our limits than give the reader a general notion of the principle itself. It may be useful to instance a truth which has a similar generality and significance, and which has also acquired the force of an axiom, because it is verified every hour. It is that greatest generalization of chemistry, affirming that in all its transformations matter is indestructible, and can no more be destroyed than it can be called into being at will. This truth is so well established, that some philosophers have asserted that an opposite state of things is inconceivable. But it was not always known; and there are at the present day untutored minds which not only believe that a substance destroyed by fire is utterly annihilated, but what they find inconceivable is the continued existence of the substance in an invisible form. The candle burns away, its matter vanishes from our view; but if we collect the invisible products of the combustion, we find in them the whole substance of the candle in union with the atmospheric oxygen. We may, in imagination, follow the indestructible atoms of carbon in their migrations, from the atmosphere to the plant, which is eaten by the animal and goes to form its fat, and from the tallow, by combustion, back into the atmosphere again. The notion of the real identity of matter under changing forms has been expressed by our great dramatist in a well-known passage, which is remarkable for its philosophic insight, when we consider the age in which it was written:
Hamlet. To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole?
Horatio. ‘Twere to consider too curiously to consider so.
Hamlet. No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it. As thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
Imperial Cæsar, dead, and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away;
O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe,