Signs of the Times.—No. 3.
THE approach of the end was also to be indicated by remarkable advancements and discoveries in the literary and scientific world. In other words, prophecy declared that such a movement should be made, and be in the height of its progress when the end should come. The prediction is a plain one: “Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.” There are two ways of explaining this: one is, that it means that there would be a general awakening of mind in the field of inquiry upon all subjects of scientific research; that there would be an increase of light, and great advancement in all branches of knowledge; the other is, that many would give attention to the study of the word of God, running to and fro in its record, comparing scripture with scripture, and that knowledge on the subject of prophecy should thus be greatly increased. Now if we find facts answering to either of these explanations, if it is true that there is an increase of knowledge in our day, either on scientific or Scripture subjects, then we have good ground for the application of the prophecy, and if knowledge has greatly increased in both these directions, then we must certainly be having a fulfillment of the prediction; for it must mean one or the other, or both, of these two things. If the intelligent reader should be asked to name any department in which the present age does not stand vastly in advance of any of its predecessors in respect to knowledge, he would probably not be able to do so. If he should be asked, further, when this increase of knowledge began to be a marked characteristic of the age, he would be obliged to answer, Within the past half century. This was to mark the time of the end, a short period at the close of the world's history, which must take us to the end, and which, commencing in 1798, as can be shown by arguments which need not be introduced here, must soon expire. For long ages previous to this time, the genius of the race, comparatively speaking, had slumbered. Knowledge was limited, both in degree and extent. Discoveries were few. Progress was slow. We come down to the time marked in prophecy as the time of the end; and lo! the mind of man awakes, and, with a mighty bound, springs forward to the highest attainments and the most mighty achievements. The spirit of inquiry pushes in every direction; discoveries multiply on every hand; and wonders before undreamed of are now the achievements of every day. The pride and boast of the present age, is this wonderful advancement in the realm of science. And while we think the prophecy more particularly refers to an increase of knowledge in the word of God, as the word knowledge is defined by Liddell and Scott to mean, in an ecclesiastical sense, a higher kind of knowledge, deeper wisdom, and this was the subject especially before the prophet; yet may it not be comprehensive enough to embrace all? And the running to and fro—may not this look, remotely, at least, to the wonderful means of transportation of these days, by which the knowledge that is brought forth is borne by steam, and flashed by the lightning, the world around? The London Spectator, about eighteen months since, published an article entitled, “Concentrated Progress of the World,” in which the progress of the present age is clearly set forth by contrast with former times. It says: “Few phenomena are more remarkable, yet few have been less remarked, than the degree in which material civilization—the progress of mankind in all those contrivances which oil the wheels and promote the comfort of daily life—has been concentrated in the last half century. It is not too much to say that in these respects more has been done, richer and more prolific discoveries have been made, grander achievements have been realized, in the course of the fifty years of our own lifetime, than in all the previous lifetime of the race, since States, nations, and politics such as history makes us acquainted with, have had their being. “It is in the three momentous matters of light, locomotion and communication, that the progress effected in this generation contrasts most surprisingly with the aggregate of the progress effected in all generations put together since the earliest dawn of authentic history. The lamps and torches which illuminated Belshazzar's feast were probably just as brilliant, and framed out of nearly the same materials as those which shone upon the splendid fêtes of Versailles when Maria Antoinette presided over them, or those of the Tuileries during the Imperial magnificence of the first Napoleon. “Pine wood, oil, and perhaps wax, lighted the banquet halls of the wealthiest nobles, alike in the eighteenth century before Christ, and in the eighteenth century after Christ. There was little difference except in finish of workmanship and elegance of design—little, if any advance, we mean, in the illuminating power, or in the source whence that power was drawn—between the lamps used in the days of the pyramids, the days of the Coliseum, and the days of Kensington Palace. Fifty years ago, that is, we burnt the same articles, and got about the same amount of light from them, as we did five thousand years ago. Now we use gas, of which each burner is equal to fifteen or twenty candles; and when we wish for more can have recourse to the electric light or analogous inventions, which are fifty-fold more brilliant and far reaching than even the best gas. “The streets of cities, which from the days of Pharaoh to those of Voltaire, were dim and gloomy, even where not wholly unlighted, now blaze everywhere (except in London) with something of the brilliancy of moonlight. In a word, all the advance that has been made in these respects, has been made since many of us were children. We remember light as it was in the days of Solomon; we see it as Drummond and Faraday have made it. “The same thing may be said of locomotion. Nimrod and Noah traveled just in the same way, and just at the same rate, as Thomas Assheton Smith and Mr. Coke of Norfolk. The chariots of the Olympic Games went just as fast as the chariots that conveyed our nobles to the Derby, ‘in our hot youth, when George the Third was King.’ When Abraham wanted to send a message to Lot, he despatched a man on horseback, who galloped twelve miles an hour. When our fathers wanted to send a message to their nephews, they could do no better and go no quicker. When we were young if we wished to travel from London to Edinburgh, we thought ourselves lucky if we could average eight miles an hour, just as Robert Bruce might have done. Now, in our old age, we feel ourselves aggrieved if we do not average forty miles. Everything that has been done in this line since the world began—everything perhaps that the capacities of matter and the condition of the human frame will ever allow to be done—has been done since we were boys. “The same at sea. Probably when the wind was favorable, Ulysses, who was a bold and skilful navigator, sailed as fast as a Dutch merchantman of the year 1800, nearly as fast at times as an American yacht or clipper of our fathers' day. Now we steam twelve and fifteen miles an hour with wonderful regularity, whether wind and tide be favorable or not; nor is it likely that we shall ever be able to go much faster. “But the progress in the means of communication is the most remarkable of all. In this respect Mr. Pitt was no better off than Pericles or Agamemnon. If Ruth had wished to write to Naomi, or David to send a word of love to Jonathan when he was a hundred miles away, they could not possibly have done it under twelve hours. Nor could we to our friends 30 years ago. In 1868 the humblest citizen of Great Britain can send such a message, not a hundred miles, but a thousand, in twelve minutes.”