it in the commencement of this Discourse. It has been always either directly or indirectly assumed — at least since the dawn of intelligible Astronomy — that, were it possible for us to attain any given point in space, we should still find, on all sides of us, an interminable succession of stars. This was the untenable idea of Pascal when making perhaps the most successful attempt ever made, at periphrasing the conception for which we struggle in the word “Universe.” “It is a sphere,” he says, “of which the centre is everywhere, the circumference nowhere.” But although this intended definition is, in fact, no definition of the Universe of Stars, we may accept it, with some mental reservation, as a definition (rigorous enough for all practical purposes) of the Universe proper — that is to say, of the Universe of space. This latter, then, let us regard as “a sphere of which the centre is everywhere, the circumference nowhere.” In fact, while we find it impossible to fancy an end to space, we have no difficulty in picturing to ourselves any one of an infinity of beginnings.
As our starting-point, then, let us adopt the Godhead. Of this Godhead, in itself, he alone is not imbecile, he alone is not impious, who propounds — nothing. “Nous ne connaissons rien,” says the Baron de Bielfeld — “Nous ne connaissons rien de la nature ou de l’essence de Dieu: pour savoir ce qu’il est, il faut etre Dieu meme.” — “We know absolutely nothing of the nature or essence of God: in order to comprehend what He is, we should have to be God ourselves.”
“We should have to be God ourselves!” — With a phrase so startling as this yet ringing in my ears, I nevertheless venture to demand if this our present ignorance of the Deity is an ignorance to which the soul is everlastingly condemned.
By Him, however — now, at least, the Incomprehensible — by Him, assuming Him as Spirit, that is to say, as not Matter — a distinction which, for all intelligible purposes, will stand well instead of a definition — by Him, then, existing as Spirit, let us content ourselves with supposing to have been created, or made out of Nothing, by dint of His Volition, at some point of Space which we will take as a centre, at some period into which we do not pretend to inquire, but at all events immensely remote — by Him, then again, let us suppose to have been created — what? This is a vitally momentous epoch in our considerations. What is it that we are justified, that alone we are justified, in supposing to have been primarily created?
We have attained a point where only Intuition can aid us; but now let me recur to the idea which I have already suggested as that alone which we can properly entertain of intuition. It is but the conviction arising from those inductions or deductions of which the processes are so shadowy as to escape our consciousness, elude our reason, or defy our capacity of expression. With this understanding, I now assert that an intuition altogether irresistible, although inexpressible, forces me to the conclusion that what God originally created — that that Matter which, by dint of His Volition, He first made from His Spirit, or from Nihility, could have been nothing but Matter in its utmost conceivable state of — what? — of Simplicity.
This will be found the sole absolute assumption of my Discourse. I use the word “assumption” in its ordinary sense; yet I maintain that even this my primary proposition is very far indeed from being really a mere assumption. Nothing was ever more certainly — no human conclusion was ever, in fact, more regularly — more rigorously deduced; but, alas! the processes lie out of the human analysis — at all events are beyond the utterance of the human tongue. If, however, in the course of this Essay I succeed in showing that out of Matter in its extreme of Simplicity all things might have been, we reach directly the inference that they were, thus constructed, through the impossibility of attributing supererogation to Omnipotence.
Let us now endeavor to conceive what Matter must be, when, or if, in its absolute extreme of Simplicity. Here the Reason flies at once to Imparticularity — to a particle — to one particle — a particle of one kind — of one character — of one nature — of one size — of one form — a particle, therefore, “without form and void” — a particle positively a particle at all points — a particle absolutely unique, individual, undivided, and not indivisible only because He who created it by dint of His Will can by an infinitely less energetic exercise of the same Will, as a matter of course, divide it.
Oneness, then, is all that I predicate of the originally created Matter; but I propose to show that this Oneness is a principle abundantly sufficient to account for the constitution, the existing phenomena, and the plainly inevitable annihilation, of at least the material Universe.
The willing into being the primordial Particle has completed the act, or more properly the conception, of Creation. We now proceed to the ultimate purpose for which we are to suppose the Particle created — -that is to say, the ultimate purpose so far as our considerations yet enable us to see it — the constitution of the Universe from it, the Particle.
This constitution has been effected by forcing the originally and therefore normally One into the abnormal condition of Many. An action of this character implies reaction. A diffusion from Unity, under the conditions, involves a tendency to return into Unity — a tendency ineradicable until satisfied. But on these points I will speak more fully hereafter.
The assumption of absolute Unity in the primordial Particle includes that of infinite divisibility.1 Let us conceive the Particle, then, to be only not totally exhausted by diffusion into Space. From the one Particle, as a centre, let us suppose to be radiated spherically — in all directions — to immeasurable but still definite distances in the previously vacant Space — a certain inexpressibly great yet limited number of unimaginably yet not infinitely minute atoms.
Now, of these atoms, thus diffused, or upon diffusion, what conditions are we permitted — not to assume, but to infer, from consideration as well of their source as of the character of the design apparent in their diffusion? Unity being their source, and difference from Unity the character of the design manifested in their diffusion, we are warranted in supposing this character to be at least generally preserved throughout the design, and to form a portion of the design itself; that is to say, we shall be warranted in conceiving continual differences at all points from the uniquity and simplicity of the origin. But, for these reasons, shall we be justified in imagining the atoms heterogeneous, dissimilar, unequal, and inequidistant? More explicitly — are we to consider no two atoms as, at their diffusion, of the same nature, or of the same form, or of the same size? — and, after fulfilment of their diffusion into Space, is absolute inequidistance, each from each, to be understood of all of them? In such arrangement, under such conditions, we most easily and immediately comprehend the subsequent most feasible carrying out to completion of any such design as that which I have suggested — the design of variety out of unity — diversity out of sameness — heterogeneity out of homogeneity — complexity out of simplicity — in a word, the utmost possible multiplicity of relation out of the emphatically irrelative One. Undoubtedly, therefore, we should be warranted in assuming all that has been mentioned, but for the reflection, first, that supererogation is not presumable of any Divine Act; and, secondly, that the object supposed in view appears as feasible when some of the conditions in question are dispensed with, in the beginning, as when all are understood immediately to exist. I mean to say that some are involved in the rest, or so instantaneous a consequence of them as to make the distinction inappreciable. Difference of size, for example, will at once be brought about through the tendency of one atom to a second, in preference to a third, on account of particular inequidistance; which is to be comprehended as particular inequidistances between centres of quantity, in neighboring atoms of different form — a matter not at all interfering with the generally-equable distribution of the atoms. Difference of kind, too, is easily conceived to be merely a result of differences in size and form,
