Thomas Henry Huxley, vol 3 | Page 5

eminent preacher spoke of catastrophes as the antithesis
of physical law, yet possible inasmuch as a "lower law" may be
"suspended" by the "intervention of a higher," a mode of reasoning

which he applied to the possibility of miracles such as that of Cana.
The man of science was up in arms against this incarnation of abstract
terms, and offered a solemn protest against that modern recrudescence
of ancient realism which speaks of "laws of nature" as though they
were independent entities, agents, and efficient causes of that which
happens, instead of simply our name for observed successions of facts.
Carefully as all personalities had been avoided in this article, it called
forth a lively reply from the Duke of Argyll, rebuking him for
venturing to criticise the preacher, whose name was now brought
forward for the first time, and raising a number of other questions,
philosophical, geological, and biological, to which Huxley rejoined
with some selections from the authentic history of these points in
"Science and Pseudo-Science" ("Nineteenth Century" April 1887,
"Collected Essays" 5 90-125).
Moreover, judging from the vivacity of the duke's reply that some of
the shafts of the first article must have struck nearer home than the
pulpit of St. Paul's, he was induced to read "The Reign of Law," the
second chapter of which, dealing with the nature of "Law," he now
criticised sharply as] "a sort of 'summa' of pseudo-scientific
philosophy," [with its confusions of law and necessity, law and force,]
"law in the sense, not merely of a rule, but of a cause." [(Cf. his
treatment of the subject 24 years before, volume 1.)
He wound up with some banter upon the Duke's picture of a scientific
Reign of Terror, whereby, it seemed, all men of science were
compelled to accept the Darwinian faith, and against which Huxley
himself was preparing to rebel, as if:--]
Forsooth, I am supposed to be waiting for the signal of "revolt," which
some fiery spirits among these young men are to raise before I dare
express my real opinions concerning questions about which we older
men had to fight in the teeth of fierce public opposition and
obloquy--of something which might almost justify even the
grandiloquent epithet of a Reign of Terror--before our excellent
successors had left school.
[Here for a while the debate ceased. But in the September number of
the "Nineteenth Century" the Duke of Argyll returned to the fray with
an article called "A Great Lesson," in which he attempted to offer
evidence in support of his assertions concerning the scientific reign of

terror. The two chief pieces of evidence adduced were Bathybius and
Dr. (now Sir J.) Murray's theory of coral reefs. The former was
instanced as a blunder due to the desire of finding support for the
Darwinian theory in the existence of this widespread primordial life;
the latter as a case in which a new theory had been systematically
burked, for fear of damaging the infallibility of Darwin, who had
propounded a different theory of coral reefs!
Huxley's reply to this was contained in the latter half of an article
which appeared in the "Nineteenth Century" for November 1887, under
the title of "Science and the Bishops" (reprinted both in "Controverted
Questions" and in the "Collected Essays" 5 126, as "An Episcopal
Trilogy"). Preaching at Manchester this autumn, during the meeting of
the British Association, the Bishops of Carlisle, Bedford, and
Manchester had spoken of science not only with knowledge, but in the
spirit of equity and generosity.] "These sermons," [he exclaims,] "are
what the Germans call Epochemachend!"
How often was it my fate [he continues], a quarter of a century ago, to
see the whole artillery of the pulpit brought to bear upon the doctrine of
evolution and its supporters! Any one unaccustomed to the amenities of
ecclesiastical controversy would have thought we were too wicked to
be permitted to live.
[After thus welcoming these episcopal advances, he once more
repudiated the a priori argument against the efficacy of prayer, the
theme of one of the three sermons, and then proceeded to discuss
another sermon of a dignitary of the Church, which had been sent to
him by an unknown correspondent, for] "there seems to be an
impression abroad--I do not desire to give any countenance to it--that I
am fond of reading sermons."
[Now this preacher was of a very different mind from the three bishops.
Instead of dwelling upon the "supreme importance of the purely
spiritual in our faith," he warned his hearers against dropping off any of
the miraculous integument of their religion. "Christianity is essentially
miraculous, and falls to the ground if miracles be impossible." He was
uncompromisingly opposed to any accommodation with advancing
knowledge, or with the high standard of veracity, enforced by the
nature of their