whether they oscillate only within narrow limits; whether their intensity in former times was nearly the same as it is now: these are precisely the questions which we wish science to answer us impartially and truly. Where, then, is the wisdom of 'an earnest and patient endeavor' to secure an affirmative reply?"
This was rough handling of a pet theory, or, rather, of an argument in favor of a pet theory; but that Sir Charles Lyell felt its force is shown by the fact that no trace of the appeal attacked by Whewell appears in such later editions of the "Principles" as we have consulted.
As another instance of the same spirit, the following remark was made by Dr. Hooker, the President of the Royal Society, when addressing the British Association at Norwich. He was speaking of the progress made in public estimation by the theories of Mr. Darwin. "Sir Charles Lyell," he says, "having devoted whole chapters of the first edition of his 'Principles' to establishing the doctrine of special creations, abandons it in the tenth edition. I know no brighter example of heroism, of its kind, than this, of an author thus abandoning late in life a theory which he had for forty years regarded as one of the foundation-stones of a work that had given him the highest position attainable among contemporary scientific writers."
Among eminent persons holding the geological opinions to which the name of Catastrophism has been given, the name of the late Master of Trinity must occupy a foremost place. The words in which he avows his opinion are remarkable, not only for their exquisite beauty, but because they have a peculiar significance as almost the last utterance of a great man. The passage which follows[1] occurs in the third of a series of sermons preached in the University Church at Cambridge, in 1827. But it is curious to learn, from his "Memoirs," published this year, that he again used the same words in his college chapel just before his death:
"Let us not deceive ourselves. Indefinite duration and gradual decay are not the destiny of this universe. It will not find its termination only in the imperceptible crumbling of its materials, or the clogging of its wheels. It steals not calmly and slowly to its end. No ages of long and deepening twilight shall gradually bring the last setting of the sun—no mountains sinking under the decrepitude of years, or weary rivers ceasing to rejoice in their courses, shall prepare men for the abolition of this earth. No placid euthanasia shall silently lead on the dissolution of the natural world. But the trumpet shall sound—the struggle shall come—this goodly frame of things shall be rent and crushed by the arm of its omnipotent Maker. It shall expire in the throes and agonies of some fierce convulsion; and the same hand which plucked the elements from the dark and troubled slumbers of chaos shall cast them into their tomb, pushing them aside that they may no longer stand between his face and the creatures whom he shall come to judge."
Holding these opinions, and believing as Prof. Whewell did that
- ↑ "Sermons in the University Church at Cambridge, 18th February, 1827."
