who has merely an "opinion" is not bound by it one way or another. He may neglect the future life in the interest of the present, or the present in the alleged interest of the future, just as the inclination of the moment may lead him. The great works of the past were not wrought on the strength of an "opinion" in regard to this matter; nor will opinion lead to any great works in the present day. The work of the world in all ages has called for convictions, and it calls for them still. It is a somewhat singular thing that our author should have used the expression, "the total mass of our opinions on the questions which lie within the scope of scientific inquiry." The word "knowledge," I respectfully submit, was required in this place. It is our knowledge that can guide us to opinions, or, in other words, that can determine for us questions as to preponderance of evidence. An opinion that is based upon an opinion is too unsubstantial a thing to deserve any attention. The only advantage I can see in the use of the word "opinions" in the place indicated is, that it seems in a manner to help to bridge over the gap between the scientific and the non-scientific regions. The bridge, however, will not hold: it may be pretty to look at, but it has no firm anchorage.
As we have already seen, the Copernican theory destroyed the notion that man's abode, the earth, was the center of the universe. The very foundations of theology seemed at the time to have been shaken; but to-day "the speculative necessity for man's occupying the largest and most central spot in the universe is no longer felt." Upon this it may be observed that what disturbed our forefathers was not the conflict between the Copernican teaching and any speculative necessity of the period, but the conflict between that teaching and the plain declarations of the Scriptures. That was the trouble. Mr. Fiske tells us that the alarm was unnecessary—that the foundations of Christian theology have not really been shaken thereby. Possibly that is the best view to take of it, seeing that the matter can not be mended.
The reason why atheism is so abhorrent to us, why "we are wont to look upon it with unspeakable horror and loathing," is that "on its practical side it would remove humanity from its peculiar position in the world, and make it cast in its lot with the grass that withers and the beasts that perish." Can this statement, I ask, be soberly made by a man of science speaking in the name of science? In what sense does atheism—a form of belief with the truth or falsity of which we need not at present concern ourselves—remove humanity from any peculiar position distinctly, and on scientific grounds, shown to belong to it? The fact is, that if atheism went counter simply to any established tenet of science, it would excite not "unspeakable loathing and horror," but simply feelings of mingled amusement, pity, and contempt. There was unspeakable "horror and loathing" at Athens when it was found one morning that the statues of the god Hermes had been mutilated during the preceding night; but no such feelings
