The New York Times: Stanza: “The iPhone or iPod Touch can act as an electronic book reader.”
Tip of the Week: Turn Your iPhone Into an e-Book

Creation and Its Records by Baden-Powell, Baden Henry - CHAPTER IV.

(download Open eBook Format)

Creation and Its Records

CHAPTER IV.

_CRE­ATIVE DE­SIGN IN IN­OR­GAN­IC MAT­TER._

I take as self-​ev­ident the enor­mous dif­fi­cul­ty of self-​caused, self-​ex­is­tent mat­ter. And when we see that mat­ter _act­ing_, not ir­reg­ular­ly or by caprice, but _by law_ (as ev­ery class of philoso­pher will ad­mit), then it is still fur­ther dif­fi­cult to re­al­ize that mat­ter not on­ly ex­ist­ed as a dead, sim­ple, in­ac­tive thing, but ex­ist­ed with a fold­ed-​up his­to­ry in­side it, a long se­quence of de­vel­op­ment--not the same for all par­ti­cles, but var­ious for each group: so that one set pro­ceed­ed to form the _ob­ject_, and an­oth­er the _en­vi­ron­ment_ of the ob­ject; or rather that a mul­ti­tude of sets formed a vast va­ri­ety of ob­jects, and an­oth­er mul­ti­tude of sets formed a vast va­ri­ety of en­vi­ron­ments. When we see mat­ter act­ing by law, then if there is no Cre­ator, we have the to us un­think­able propo­si­tion of law with­out a law­giv­er!

On the oth­er hand, if we shut out some of the dif­fi­cul­ties, keep our eye on one part of the case on­ly--and that is what the hu­man mind is very apt to do--we can eas­ily come round to think that, af­ter all, _el­emen­tary_ mat­ter--cos­mic gas--is a very _sim­ple_ thing; and looks re­al­ly as if no great Pow­er, or In­tel­lect, were re­quired to ac­count for its ori­gin. Af­ter all, some will say, if we grant your great, wise, benef­icent, de­sign­ing Cre­ator, the fi­nite hu­man mind has as lit­tle idea of a self-​ex­ist­ing God, as it has of self-​ex­ist­ing mat­ter and self-​ex­ist­ing law. _You_ pos­tu­late one great mys­tery, _we_ pos­tu­late two small­er ones; and the two to­geth­er re­al­ly present less “un­think­able­ness” to the mind than your one. That is so far plau­si­ble, but it is no more. To be­lieve in a GOD is to be­lieve in One Ex­is­tence, who nec­es­sar­ily (by the terms of our con­cep­tion) has the pow­er both of cre­at­ing mat­ter, de­sign­ing the forms it shall take, and orig­inat­ing the ten­den­cies, forces, ac­tiv­ities--or what­ev­er else we please to call them--which drive mat­ter in the right di­rec­tion to get the de­sired re­sult. To be­lieve not on­ly that mat­ter caused it­self, but that the dif­fer­ent forces and ten­den­cies, and the aims and ends of de­vel­op­ment, were self-​caused, is sure­ly a much more dif­fi­cult task. It is the ex­is­tence of such a _va­ri­ety_, it is the ex­is­tence of a uni­form ten­den­cy to pro­duce cer­tain though mul­ti­tudi­nous re­sults, that makes the in­su­per­able dif­fi­cul­ty of sup­pos­ing _mat­ter al­ways de­vel­op­ing_ (to­wards cer­tain ends) to be self-​caused.

The ad­vo­cates of “eter­nal mat­ter” re­al­ly over­come the dif­fi­cul­ty, by shut­ting their eyes to ev­ery­thing be­yond a part of the prob­lem--the ex­is­tence of sim­ple mat­ter apart from any laws, prop­er­ties, or affini­ties.

But the sim­plest drop of wa­ter, in it­self, and apart from its me­chan­ical re­la­tions to oth­er mat­ter, is re­al­ly a very com­plex and a very won­der­ful thing; not at all like­ly to be “self-​caused.” Wa­ter is made up, we know, of oxy­gen and hy­dro­gen--two el­emen­tary colour­less, form­less gas­es. Now we can eas­ily di­vide the one drop in­to two, and, with­out any great dif­fi­cul­ty, the two in­to four, and (per­haps with the aid of a mag­ni­fy­ing glass) the four in­to eight, and so on, _as long as_ the minute par­ti­cle _still re­tains the na­ture of wa­ter_. In short, we speak of the small­est sub­di­vi­sion of which mat­ter is ca­pa­ble with­out los­ing its own na­ture, as the _molecule_. All mat­ter may be re­gard­ed as con­sist­ing of a vast mass of these small molecules.

Now, we know that all known mat­ter is ca­pa­ble of ex­ist­ing ei­ther in a sol­id, liq­uid, or gaseous form, its na­ture not be­ing changed. Wa­ter is very eas­ily so dealt with. Some sub­stances, it is true, re­quire very great pres­sure or very great cold, or both, to al­ter their form; but even car­bon­ic acid, oxy­gen, and hy­dro­gen, which un­der or­di­nary con­di­tions are gas­es, can with prop­er ap­pli­ances be made both liq­uid and sol­id. Pure al­co­hol, has, I be­lieve, nev­er been made sol­id, but that is on­ly be­cause it is so dif­fi­cult to get a suf­fi­cient de­gree of cold: there is no doubt that it could be done.

It might be sup­posed that the molecules of which dead mat­ter (whether sol­id, liq­uid, or vapourous) is com­posed, were equal­ly mo­tion­less and struc­ture­less. But it is not so: ev­ery molecule in its own kind is en­dowed with mar­vel­lous prop­er­ties. In the first place, ev­ery molecule has a dou­ble ca­pa­bil­ity of mo­tion. In the sol­id form the molecules are so packed to­geth­er that, of course, the mo­tion is ex­ces­sive­ly re­strict­ed; in the liq­uid it is a lit­tle eas­ier; in the gaseous state the molecules are in a com­par­ative­ly “open or­der.” In most sub­stances that are sol­id un­der or­di­nary con­di­tions, by ap­ply­ing heat con­tin­uous­ly we first liq­ue­fy and ul­ti­mate­ly vapour­ize them. In those sub­stances which un­der or­di­nary con­di­tions are _gas_ (like car­bon­ic acid, for in­stance), it is by ap­ply­ing cold, with per­haps great pres­sure as well, that we in­duce them to be­come liq­uid and sol­id; in fact, the pro­cess is just re­versed. As we can most eas­ily fol­low the pro­cess of heat­ing, I will de­scribe that. First, the sol­id (in most cas­es) gets larg­er and larg­er as it pro­gress­es to liq­ue­fac­tion, and when it gets to vapour, it sud­den­ly ex­pands enor­mous­ly. Take a rod of soft iron, and re­duce it to freez­ing tem­per­ature: let us sup­pose that in that con­di­tion it mea­sures just a thou­sand inch­es long. Then raise the tem­per­ature to 212 de­grees (boil­ing point), and it will be found to mea­sure 1,012 inch­es. Why is that? Ob­vi­ous­ly, be­cause the molecules have got a lit­tle fur­ther apart. If you heat it till the iron gets liq­uid, the liq­uid would al­so oc­cu­py still more space than the orig­inal sol­id rod; and if we had tem­per­ature high enough to make the melt­ed iron go off in­to vapour, it would oc­cu­py an enor­mous­ly in­creased space. I can­not say what it would be for iron vapour; but if a giv­en vol­ume of wa­ter is con­vert­ed in­to vapour, it will oc­cu­py about 1,700 times the space it did when liq­uid, though the weight would not be al­tered.

It may here be worth while to men­tion that it is not in­vari­ably true that a sub­stance gets con­tract­ed, and the molecules more and more pressed to­geth­er, as it as­sumes a sol­id form. There is at least one ex­cep­tion. If we take 1,700 pints of steam, the wa­ter, as I said, on be­com­ing cool enough to lose the vapourous form, will shrink in­to a mea­sure hold­ing a sin­gle pint; if we cooled low­er still, it will get small­er and small­er in bulk (though of course not at all at the same rate) till it ar­rives at a point when it is just go­ing to freeze; then sud­den­ly (7 de­grees above the freez­ing point) it again be­gins to ex­pand. Ice oc­cu­pies more space than cold wa­ter; its molecules get ar­ranged in a par­tic­ular man­ner by their crys­tal­liza­tion.

On the ad­mis­sion of an _in­tel­li­gent_ Cre­ator pro­vid­ing, by benef­icent de­sign, the laws of mat­ter, it is easy to give a rea­son for this use­ful prop­er­ty. It pre­vents the in­hab­itants of north­ern cli­mates be­ing de­prived of a sup­ply of wa­ter. As it is, the sol­id wa­ter or ice ex­pands, and, be­com­ing lighter, forms at the top of the wa­ter, and the heav­ier warmer wa­ter re­mains be­low. But if ice al­ways got denser and sank, the warmer liq­uid would be per­pet­ual­ly dis­placed and so come up to the sur­face, where it would freeze and sink in its turn. In a short time, then, all our wa­ter sup­plies would (when­ev­er the tem­per­ature went down to freez­ing, which it con­stant­ly does in win­ter) be turned in­to sol­id ice. This would be a source of the gravest in­con­ve­nience to the pop­ula­tion of a cold cli­mate. If we de­ny a de­sign­ing mind, the al­ter­na­tive is that this prop­er­ty of wa­ter is a mere chance.

But to re­turn to molecules. Molecules are en­dowed with an in­her­ent fac­ul­ty of mo­tion; on­ly un­der the con­di­tions of what we call the sol­id, they are so com­pressed, that there is no room for any mo­tion ap­pre­cia­ble to the sens­es. Even if the sol­id is con­vert­ed in­to vapour, the molecules are still much re­strained in their move­ments by the pres­sure of the air. But of late years, great im­prove­ments (part­ly chem­ical, part­ly me­chan­ical) have been made in pro­duc­ing per­fect _vac­ua_; that is to say, in get­ting glass or oth­er ves­sels to be so far emp­ty of air, that the al­most in­con­ceiv­ably small residue in the re­cep­ta­cle has no per­cep­ti­ble ef­fect on the ac­tion of a small quan­ti­ty of any sub­stance al­ready re­duced to the form of gas or vapour in­tro­duced in­to it. Dr. W. Crookes has made many beau­ti­ful ex­per­iments on the be­haviour of the molecules of at­ten­uat­ed mat­ter in _vac­ua_. The small quan­ti­ty of vapour in­tro­duced con­tains on­ly a rel­ative­ly small num­ber of molecules, which thus freed from all sen­si­ble re­straint with­in the lim­its of the glass ves­sel used, are free to move as they will; they are ob­served to rush about, to strike against the sides of the ves­sel, and un­der prop­er con­di­tions to shine and be­come _ra­di­ant_, and to ex­hib­it ex­traor­di­nary phe­nom­ena when sub­ject­ed to cur­rents of elec­tric­ity. So pe­cu­liar is the molec­ular ac­tion thus set up, that sci­en­tif­ic men have been tempt­ed to speak of a fourth con­di­tion of mat­ter (be­sides the three or­di­nary ones, sol­id, liq­uid, and gaseous), which they call the ul­tra-​gaseous or ra­di­ant state of mat­ter.

This mar­vel of molec­ular struc­ture seems al­ready to have re­moved us suf­fi­cient­ly far from the idea of a sim­ple in­ert mass, which might be pri­mor­dial and self-​caused. But we have not yet done. Even imag­in­ing the ex­treme sub­di­vi­sion[1] of the par­ti­cles in one of Dr. Crookes' vac­uum globes, the par­ti­cles are still wa­ter. But we know that wa­ter is a com­pound sub­stance. The molecule has nine parts, of which eight are hy­dro­gen and one oxy­gen--be­cause that is the ex­per­imen­tal­ly known pro­por­tion in which oxy­gen and hy­dro­gen com­bine to form wa­ter. As we can (in the present state of our knowl­edge) di­vide no far­ther, we call these ul­ti­mate frag­ments of sim­ple or el­emen­tary sub­stance _atoms_.

[Foot­note 1: As to the pos­si­bil­ity of _in­def­inite_ sub­di­vi­sion of mat­ter, see Sir W. Thom­sons's lec­ture, _Na­ture_, June, 1883, _et seq._]

Ev­ery sub­stance, how­ev­er fine­ly di­vid­ed in­to molecules, if it is not a sim­ple sub­stance, must there­fore have, in­side the _molec­ular_ struc­ture, a fur­ther _atom­ic_ struc­ture. And in the case of un­re­solv­able or “el­emen­tary” sub­stance, the molecule and the atom are not nec­es­sar­ily the same. For though there is rea­son to be­lieve that, the molecule of these does con­sist, in some cas­es, of on­ly one atom--in which case the atom and the molecule are iden­ti­cal; in oth­er cas­es, the molecule is known to con­sist of more than one atom of the same el­ement; and the atoms are ca­pa­ble of be­ing dif­fer­ent­ly ar­ranged, and when so ar­ranged have dif­fer­ent _prop­er­ties_ or be­haviour, though their na­ture is not changed. This prop­er­ty is spo­ken of by chemists as _al­lotropism_. No chemist on earth can de­tect the slight­est dif­fer­ence in _con­sti­tu­tion_ be­tween a molecule of _ozone_ and one _oxy­gen_; but the two have wide­ly dif­fer­ent prop­er­ties, or be­have very dif­fer­ent­ly. There is thus a great mys­tery about atoms and their pos­si­ble dif­fer­ences un­der dif­fer­ent ar­range­ment, which is as yet un­solved. Those who wish to get an in­sight in­to the mat­ter (which can­not be pur­sued far­ther here) will do well to read Josi­ah Cooke's “The New Chem­istry,” in the In­ter­na­tion­al Sci­en­tif­ic Se­ries. The mind is re­al­ly lost in try­ing to re­al­ize the idea of a frag­ment of mat­ter too small for the most pow­er­ful mi­cro­scope, but ex­ist­ing in fact (be­cause of fault­less rea­son­ing from ab­so­lute­ly con­clu­sive ex­per­iments), and yet so con­sti­tut­ed that it is _prac­ti­cal­ly_ a dif­fer­ent thing when placed in one po­si­tion or or­der, from what it is when placed in an­oth­er.

Turn­ing from this mys­tery, as yet so ob­scure, to what is more eas­ily grasped, we shall hard­ly be sur­prised to learn, fur­ther, that ev­ery kind of, atom obeys its own laws, and that while atoms of one kind al­ways have a _ten­den­cy to com­bine_ with atoms of oth­er kinds, it is ab­so­lute­ly im­pos­si­ble to get them to com­bine to­geth­er ex­cept on cer­tain con­di­tions.

The dif­fer­ence be­tween com­bi­na­tion and mix­ture is well known. Shake sand and sug­ar in a bag for ev­er so long, but they will on­ly _mix_, not _com­bine_ or form any new sub­stance even with the aid of elec­tric cur­rents; but place oxy­gen and hy­dro­gen gas un­der prop­er con­di­tions, and the gas­es will dis­ap­pear, and wa­ter (in weight ex­act­ly equal to the weight of the vol­ume of gas­es) will ap­pear in their place.

It is on­ly cer­tain kinds of atoms that will com­bine at all with oth­er kinds; and when they do so com­bine, they will on­ly unite in ab­so­lute­ly fixed pro­por­tions, so that chemists have been able to as­sign to ev­ery kind of el­ement its own com­bin­ing pro­por­tion. The sub­stances that will com­bine will do so in these pro­por­tions, or in pro­por­tions of any _even mul­ti­ple_ of the num­ber, and in no oth­er. Thus four­teen parts of ni­tro­gen will com­bine with six­teen of oxy­gen; and we have sev­er­al sub­stances in na­ture, called ni­trous ox­ide, ni­tric ox­ide, ni­tric di-​ox­ide, &c., which il­lus­trate this, in which four­teen parts of ni­tro­gen com­bine with six­teen oxy­gen or four­teen ni­tro­gen with a mul­ti­ple of six­teen oxy­gen, or a mul­ti­ple of four­teen ni­tro­gen com­bine with six­teen oxy­gen, and so on.

See now where we have got to. When we had spo­ken of a tiny frag­ment of pri­mal mat­ter--a drop of wa­ter, for in­stance--it seemed as if there was no more to be said; but no, we found our­selves able to give a whole his­to­ry of the molecules of which the sub­stance con­sists; and when we had con­sid­ered the molecule, we found a fur­ther beau­ti­ful and in­tri­cate or­der of _atoms_ in­side the molecule, as it were.

And there is no rea­son to sup­pose that sci­ence has yet re­vealed all that is pos­si­ble to be known about atoms and molecules; so that if fur­ther won­ders should be evoked, the ar­gu­ment will grow and grow in cu­mu­la­tive force.

Let me sum up the con­clu­sion to be drawn from these facts in a quo­ta­tion from a dis­course of Sir John F.W. Her­schel.

“When we see,” says that em­inent philoso­pher, "a great num­ber of things pre­cise­ly alike, we do not be­lieve this sim­ilar­ity to have orig­inat­ed ex­cept from _a com­mon prin­ci­ple in­de­pen­dent of them_; and that we rec­og­nize this like­ness, chiefly by the _iden­ti­ty of their de­port­ment un­der sim­ilar cir­cum­stances_ strength­ens rather than weak­ens the con­clu­sion.

"A line of spin­ning jen­nies, or a reg­iment of sol­diers dressed ex­act­ly alike and go­ing through pre­cise­ly the same evo­lu­tions, gives us no idea of in­de­pen­dent ex­is­tence: we must see them act out of con­cert be­fore we can be­lieve them to have in­de­pen­dent wills and prop­er­ties not im­pressed on them from with­out.

"And this con­clu­sion, which would be strong even if there were on­ly two in­di­vid­uals pre­cise­ly alike in _all_ re­spects and _for ev­er_, ac­quires ir­re­sistible force when their num­ber is mul­ti­plied be­yond the pow­er of imag­ina­tion to con­ceive.

“If we mis­take not, then, the dis­cov­er­ies al­lud­ed to ef­fec­tu­al­ly de­stroy the ideas of an _eter­nal_ self-​ex­is­tent mat­ter by giv­ing to each of its atoms the es­sen­tial char­ac­ters at once of a _man­ufac­tured_ ar­ti­cle and of a _sub­or­di­nate agent_.”

In oth­er words, con­tin­uing the metaphor of the trained army, we see mil­lions up­on mil­lions of molecules all ar­ranged in reg­iments, dis­tinct and sep­arate, and the reg­iments again made up of com­pa­nies or in­di­vid­uals, each obey­ing his own or­ders in sub­or­di­na­tion to, and in har­mo­ny with, the whole: are we not jus­ti­fied in con­clud­ing that this army has not been on­ly called in­to be­ing by some cause ex­ter­nal to it­self; but fur­ther, that its con­sti­tu­tion has been im­pressed up­on it, and its equip­ments and or­ga­ni­za­tion di­rect­ed, by an In­fi­nite In­tel­li­gence?

There is, then, no such thing to be found in Na­ture as a sim­ple, struc­ture­less “pri­mal mat­ter” which ex­hibits noth­ing tend­ing to make self-​cau­sa­tion or abo­rig­inal ex­is­tence dif­fi­cult to con­ceive. To look at mat­ter in that light is not on­ly to take in­to con­sid­er­ation a _part_ of the case; it is re­al­ly to take what does not ex­ist, a part that ex­ists on­ly in the imag­ina­tion. The sim­plest form of mat­ter we can deal with, ex­hibits with­in it­self all the won­drous plan, law, and se­quence of the molec­ular and atom­ic struc­ture we have sketched out; and when we con­sid­er that, hav­ing tak­en mat­ter so far, we have even then on­ly in­tro­duced it to the verge of the uni­verse, ush­ered it on to the thresh­old of a great “aeon,” when and where it is to be act­ed on by “grav­ita­tion” and oth­er forces, to act in re­la­tion to oth­er mat­ter, and to be en­dowed per­haps with LIFE, we shall feel that the self-​ex­is­tence--the un­caused ex­is­tence of mat­ter, and of the prin­ci­ples on which mat­ter pro­ceeds or acts, is in re­al­ity not a less mys­tery than the self-​ex­is­tence of a De­sign­ing and In­tel­li­gent Cause, but one so great as to be it­self “un­think­able.”