nearer the centre must inevitably be always more crowded with the radiated matter than the regions more remote. But I have assumed no such radiation as this. I assumed no continuous radiation; and for the simple reason that such an assumption would have involved, first, the necessity of entertaining a conception which I have shown no man can entertain, and which (as I will more fully explain hereafter) all observation of the firmament refutes — the conception of the absolute infinity of the Universe of Stars; and would have involved, secondly, the impossibility of understanding a reaction — that is, gravitation — as existing now, since, while an act is continued, no reaction, of course, can take place. My assumption, then — or rather my inevitable deduction from just premises — was that of a determinate radiation — one finally discontinued.
Let me now describe the sole possible mode in which it is conceivable that matter could have been diffused through space, so as to fulfil the conditions at once of radiation and of generally equable distribution.
For convenience of illustration, let us imagine, in the first place, a hollow sphere of glass, or of anything else, occupying the space throughout which the universal matter is to be thus equally diffused, by means of radiation, from the absolute, irrelative, unconditional Particle, placed in the centre of the sphere.
Now, a certain exertion of the diffusive power (presumed to be the Divine Volition) — in other words, a certain force, whose measure is the quantity of matter, that is to say, the number of atoms, emitted — emits, by radiation, this certain number of atoms; forcing them in all directions outwardly from the centre — their proximity to each other diminishing as they proceed — until, finally, they are distributed, loosely, over the interior surface of the sphere.
When these atoms have attained this position, or while proceeding to attain it, a second and inferior exercise of the same force — or a second and inferior force of the same character — emits, in the same manner — that is to say, by radiation as before — a second stratum of atoms which proceeds to deposit itself upon the first; the number of atoms, in this case as in the former, being of course the measure of the force which emitted them; in other words, the force being precisely adapted to the purpose it effects — the force and the number of atoms sent out by the force, being directly proportional.
When this second stratum has reached its destined position — or while approaching it — a third still inferior exertion of the force, or a third inferior force of a similar character — the number of atoms emitted being in all cases the measure of the force — proceeds to deposit a third stratum upon the second; and so on, until these concentric strata, growing gradually less and less, come down at length to the central point; and the diffusive matter, simultaneously with the diffusive force, is exhausted.4
We have now the sphere filled, through means of radiation, with atoms equably diffused. The two necessary conditions — those of radiation and of equable diffusion — are satisfied; and by the sole process in which the possibility of their simultaneous satisfaction is conceivable. For this reason, I confidently expect to find, lurking in the present condition of the atoms as distributed throughout the sphere, the secret of which I am in search — the all-important principle of the modus operandi of the Newtonian law. Let us examine, then, the actual condition of the atoms.
They lie in a series of concentric strata. They are equably diffused throughout the sphere.
The atoms being equably distributed, the greater the superficial extent of any of these concentric strata, or spheres, the more atoms will lie upon it. In other words, the number of atoms lying upon the surface of any one of the concentric spheres is directly proportional with the extent of that surface.
But, in any series of concentric spheres, the surfaces are directly proportional with the squares of the distances from the centre.5
Therefore the number of atoms in any stratum is directly proportional with the square of that stratum’s distance from the centre.
But the number of atoms in any stratum is the measure of the force which emitted that stratum — that is to say, is directly proportional with the force.
Therefore the force which radiated any stratum is directly proportional with the square of that stratum’s distance from the centre; — or, generally:
The force of the irradiation has been directly proportional with the squares of the distances:— or particularly: the force by which any individual atom was sent to its position in the sphere was directly proportional with the square of that atom’s distance, while in that position, from the centre of the sphere.
Now, Reaction, as far as we know any thing of it, is Action conversed. The general principle of Gravity being, in the first place, understood as the reaction of an act — as the expression of a desire on the part of Matter, while existing in a state of diffusion, to return into the Unity whence it was diffused; and, in the second place, the mind being called on to determine the character of the desire — the manner in which it would, naturally, be manifested; in other words, being called on to conceive a probable law, or modus operandi, for the return — could not well help arriving at the conclusion that this law of return would be precisely the converse of the law of departure. That such would be the case, any one, at least, would be abundantly justified in taking for granted, until such time as some person should suggest something like a plausible reason why it should not be the case — until such a period as a law of return shall be imagined which the intellect can consider as preferable.
Matter, then, radiated into space with a force varying as the squares of the distances, might, a priori, be supposed to return towards its centre of radiation with a force varying inversely as the squares of the distances; and I have already shown6 that any principle which will explain why the atoms should tend, according to any law, to the general centre, must be admitted as satisfactorily explaining, at the same time, why, according to the same law, they should tend each to each. For, in fact, the tendency to the general centre is not to a centre as such, but because of its being a point in tending towards which each atom tends most directly to its real and essential centre, Unity — the absolute and final Union of all.
The consideration here involved presents to my own mind no embarrassment whatever; but this fact does not blind me to the possibility of its being obscure to those who may have been less in the habit of dealing with abstractions; and, upon the whole, it may be as well to look at the matter from one or two other points of view.
The absolute, irrelative particle, primarily created by the Volition of God, must have been in a condition of positive normality, or rightfulness — for wrongfulness implies relation. Right is positive; wrong is negative — is merely the negation of right; as cold is the negation of heat — darkness, of light. That a thing may be wrong, it is necessary that there be some other thing in relation to which it is wrong — some condition which it fails to satisfy; some law which it violates; some being whom it aggrieves. If there be no such being, law, or condition, in respect to which the thing is wrong — and, still more especially, if no beings, laws, or conditions exist at all — then the thing cannot be wrong and consequently must be right.
Any deviation from normality involves a tendency to return to it. A difference from the normal — from the right — from the just — can be understood as effected only by the overcoming a difficulty; and, if the force which overcomes the difficulty be not infinitely continued, the ineradicable tendency to return will at length be permitted to act for its own satisfaction. On withdrawal of the force, the tendency acts. This is the principle of
