iculty, discussed by Kant, was more tersely expressed by
Hamilton in pointing out that we could neither conceive of infinite
space nor of space as bounded. The methods and conclusions of modern
astronomy are, however, in no way at variance with Kant's reasoning, so
far as it extends. The fact is that the problem with which the
philosopher of Konigsberg vainly grappled is one which our science
cannot solve any more than could his logic. We may hope to gain
complete information as to everything which lies within the range of
the telescope, and to trace to its beginning every process which we can
now see going on in space. But before questions of the absolute
beginning of things, or of the boundary beyond which nothing exists,
our means of inquiry are quite powerless.

Another example of the ancient method is found in the great work of
Copernicus. It is remarkable how completely the first expounder of the
system of the world was dominated by the philosophy of his time, which
he had inherited from his predecessors. This is seen not only in the
general course of thought through the opening chapters of his work, but
among his introductory propositions. The first of these is that the
universe--mundus--as well as the earth, is spherical in form. His
arguments for the sphericity of the earth, as derived from observation,
are little more than a repetition of those of Ptolemy, and therefore
not of special interest. His proposition that the universe is spherical
is, however, not based on observation, but on considerations of the
perfection of the spherical form, the general tendency of bodies--a
drop of water, for example--to assume this form, and the sphericity of
the sun and moon. The idea retained its place in his mind, although the
fundamental conception of his system did away with the idea of the
universe having any well-defined form.

The question as attacked by modern astronomy is this: we see scattered
through space in every direction many millions of stars of various
orders of brightness and at distances so great as to defy exact
measurement, except in the case of a few of the nearest. Has this
collection of stars any well-defined boundary, or is what we see merely
that part of an infinite mass which chances to lie within the range of
our telescopes? If we were transported to the most distant star of
which we have knowledge, should we there find ourselves still
surrounded by stars on all sides, or would the space beyond b