The announcement of these lectures came to hand too late for our last issue, and the first has already been delivered. The course is as follows: Friday, Dec. 17, The Battle Fields of Science, by Andrew D. White, President of the Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y. Friday, Dec. 24, How Animals Move, by Professor E. S. Morse, of the Peabody Academy of Science, Salem, Mass. Friday, Dec. 31, The Correlation of Vital and Physical Forces, by Professor G. F. Barker, of Yale College, New Haven. Friday, Jan. 7, The Air and Respiration, by Professor J. C. Draper, of the College of the City of New York. Friday, Jan. 14, The Connection of Natural Science and Mental Philosophy, by Professor J. Bascom, of Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Friday, Jan. 21, The Constitution of the Sun, by Dr. B. A. Gould, of Cambridge, Mass. Friday, Jan. 28, The Colorado Plateau, its Canons and Ruined Cities, by Professor J. S. Newberry, of Columbia College, New York.
The course is a good one, and ought to be, and doubtless will be, well attended. Abstracts of the lectures will appear as delivered, in the SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN.
THE BATTLE FIELDS OF SCIENCE.
LECTURE BY PROFESSOR WHITE, BEFORE THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE.
This lecture did not disappoint the expectations of those familiar with the subject of the discourse, which, considering the difficulty of restating familiar historical facts in such a manner as to clothe them in a garb of originality, is high praise. Many, however, found great difficulty in hearing the speaker at the back part of the hall, and some left the room on that account. This was unfortunate, as the lecture will scarcely be exceeded in interest by any subsequent one of the course. The speaker said that "In all modern history, interference with science in the supposed interest of religion--no matter how conscientious such interference may have been--has resulted in the direst evils both to religion and science, and invariably. And on the other hand all untrammeled scientific investigation, no matter how dangerous to religion some of its stages may have seemed, temporarily, to be, has invariably resulted in the highest good of religion and science. I say invariably--I mean exactly that. It is a rule to which history shows not one exception. It would seem, logically, that this statement could not be gainsaid. God's truth must agree, whether discovered by looking within upon the soul or without upon the world. A truth written upon the human heart to-day in its full play of emotions or passions, cannot be at any real variance even with a truth written upon a fossil whose poor life was gone millions of years ago. And this being so, it would also seem a truth irrefragable; that the search for each of these kind of truths must be followed out in its own lines, by its own methods, to its own results, without any interference from investigators along other lines by other methods. And it would also seem logically that we might work on in absolute confidence that whatever, at any moment, might seem to be the relative positions of the two different bands of workers, they must at last come together, for truth is one. But logic is not history. History is full of interferences which have cost the earth dear. Strangest of all, some of the most direful of them have been made by the best of men, actuated by the purest motives, seeking the noblest results. These interferences and the struggle against them make up the warfare of science. One statement more to clear the ground. You will not understand me at all to say that religion has done nothing for science. It has done much for it. The work of Christianity has been mighty indeed. Through these 2,000 years it has undermined servitude, mitigated tyranny, given hope to the hopeless, comfort to the afflicted, light to the blind, bread to the starving, life to the dying, and all this work continues. And its work for science, too, has been great. It has fostered science often and developed it. It has given great minds to it, and but for the fears of the timid its record in this respect would have been as great as in the other. Unfortunately, religious men started centuries ago with the idea that purely scientific investigation is unsafe--that theology must intervene. So began this great modern war."
Professor White next reviewed the battle between science and theology on the subjects of the "earth's shape, surface, and relations," "the position of the earth among the heavenly bodies," in which Copernicus and Galileo struggled so bravely and successfully for truth.
The lecturer said:
"The principal weapons in the combat are worth examining. They are very easily examined; you may pick them up on any of the battle-fields of science; but on that field they were used with more effect than on almost any other. These weapons were two epithets--the epithets 'Infidel' and 'Atheist.' These can hardly be classed with civilized weapons; they are burning arrows; they set fire to great masses of popular prejudices. Smoke rises to obscure the real questions. Fire bursts out at times to destroy the attacked party. They are poisoned weapons. They go to the heart of loving women; they alienate dear children; they injure the man after life is ended, for they leave poisoned wounds in the hearts of those who loved him best--fears for his eternal happiness, dread of the Divine displeasure. The battle-fields of science are thickly strewn with these. They have been used against almost every man who has ever done anything for his fellow-men. The list of those who have been denounced as Infidel and Atheist includes almost all great men of science--general scholars, inventors, philanthropists. The deepest Christian life, the most noble Christian character has not availed to shield combatants. Christians like Isaac Newton and Pascal, and John Locke and John Howard, have had these weapons hurled against them. Nay, in these very times we have seen a noted champion hurl these weapons against John Milton, and with it another missile which often appears on these battle-fields--the epithets of 'blasphemer' and 'hater of the Lord.' Of course, in these days these weapons though often effective in disturbing the ease of good men and though often powerful in scaring women, are somewhat blunted. Indeed, they do not infrequently injure assailants more than assailed. So it was not in the days of Galileo. These weapons were then in all their sharpness and venom. The first champion who appears against him is Bellarmine, one of the greatest of theologians and one of the poorest of scientists. He was earnest, sincere, learned, but made the fearful mistake for the world of applying direct literal interpretation of Scripture to science. The consequences were sad, indeed. Could he with his vast powers have taken a different course, humanity would have been spared the long and fearful war which ensued, and religion would have saved to herself thousands on thousands of the best and brightest men in after ages. The weapons, which men of Bellarmine's stamp used, were theological. They held up before the world the dreadful consequences which must result to Christian theology were the doctrine to prevail that the heavenly bodies revolve about the sun, and not about the earth.