{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_39977/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_39977","id":"gutenberg_39977","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/39977","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy","Political science","Science"],"text":"Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, tallforasmurf and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTE\n\n\nIn this etext, the oe ligature is shown as [oe].\n\nWhile proofing and formatting this document the Project Gutenberg team\nnoted and corrected 23 typographical errors, for example \"Beauieu\" for\n\"Beaulieu\". All were deemed trivial and their correction had no effect\non the sense of the text.\n\n\n\n\n\n                      ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n                           OF\n\n                   UNIVERSAL PROGRESS;\n\n                A Series of Discussions.\n\n\n                           BY\n                    HERBERT SPENCER,\n\n                        AUTHOR OF\n    \"THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY,\" \"SOCIAL STATICS,\"\n  \"ESSAYS, MORAL, POLITICAL AND AESTHETIC,\" \"EDUCATION,\"\n          \"FIRST PRINCIPLES,\" ETC., ETC., ETC.\n\n\n                          WITH\n\n   _A NOTICE OF SPENCER'S \"NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY.\"_\n\n\n                        NEW YORK:\n                D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,\n                   443 & 445 BROADWAY.\n                          1865.\n\n\n\n\n                WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR.\n\n             PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO.\n\n  _EDUCATION--INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL._ 1 vol., 12mo. Cloth,\n      $1.25.\n\n  _A NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY._ Vol. I. _FIRST PRINCIPLES._ Large 12mo.\n      503 pages. Cloth $2.00.\n\n  _PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY._ In Quarterly Parts, by Subscription. $2.00\n      per year.\n\n                           NOW IN PRESS:\n\n  _ESSAYS--MORAL, POLITICAL, AND AESTHETIC._ 1 vol., large 12mo. Cloth.\n\n        _Copies sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price._\n\n        ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by\n                         D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,\n  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the\n                      Southern District of New York.\n\n\n\n\n       AMERICAN NOTICE\n\n            OF A\n\n  NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n             BY\n\n      HERBERT SPENCER.\n\n\nThe author of the following work, Mr. Herbert Spencer, of England, has\nentered upon the publication of a new philosophical system, so original and\ncomprehensive as to deserve the attention of all earnest inquirers. He\nproposes nothing less than to unfold such a complete philosophy of Nature,\nphysical, organic, mental and social, as Science has now for the first time\nmade possible, and which, if successfully executed, will constitute a\nmomentous step in the progress of thought.\n\nHis system is designed to embrace five works; each a distinct treatise, but\nall closely connected in plan, and treating of the following subjects in\nthe order presented: 1st, First Principles; 2d, Principles of Biology; 3d,\nPrinciples of Psychology; 4th, Principles of Sociology; 5th, Principles of\nMorality. The opening work of the series--_First Principles_--though\nsomewhat of an introductory character, is an independent and completed\nargument. It consists of two parts: first, \"The Unknowable,\" and second,\n\"The Laws of the Knowable.\" Unattractive as these titles may seem, they\nindicate a discussion of great originality and transcendent interest.\n\nWhen public consideration is invited to a system of philosophy so extended\nas to comprehend the entire scheme of nature and humanity, and so bold as\nto deal with them in the ripest spirit of science, it is natural that many\nshould ask at the outset how the author stands related to the problem of\nReligion. Mr. Spencer finds this the preliminary question of his\nphilosophy, and engages with it at the threshold of his undertaking. Before\nattempting to work out a philosophical scheme, he sees that it is at first\nnecessary to find how far Philosophy can go and where she must stop--the\nnecessary limits of human knowledge, or the circle which bounds all\nrational and legitimate investigation; and this opens at once the profound\nand imminent question of the spheres and relation of Religion and Science.\n\nMr. Spencer is a leading representative of that school of thinkers which\nholds that, as man is finite, he can grasp and know only the finite;--that\nby the inexorable conditions of thought all real knowledge is relative and\nphenomenal, and hence that we cannot go behind phenomena to find the\nultimate causes and solve the ultimate mystery of being. In such assertions\nas that \"God cannot by any searching be found out;\" that \"a God understood\nwould be no God at all;\" and that \"to think God _is_ as we think Him to be\nis blasphemy,\" we see the recognition of this idea of the inscrutableness\nof the Absolute Cause. The doctrine itself is neither new nor limited to a\nfew exceptional thinkers. It is widely affirmed by enlightened science, and\npervades nearly all the cultivated theology of the present day. Sir William\nHamilton and Dr. Mansel are among its recent and ablest expounders. \"With\nthe exception,\" says Sir William Hamilton, \"of a few late absolutist\ntheorizers in Germany, this is perhaps the truth of all others most\nharmoniously reechoed by every philosopher of every school;\" and among\nthese he names Protagoras, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Melanchthon, Scaliger,\nBacon, Spinoza, Newton, and Kant.\n\nBut though Mr. Spencer accepts this doctrine, he has not left it where he\nfound it. The world is indebted to him for having advanced the argument to\na higher and grander conclusion--a conclusion which changes the\nphilosophical aspect of the whole question, and involves the profoundest\nconsequences. Hamilton and Mansel bring us, by their inexorable logic, to\nthe result that we can neither know nor conceive the Infinite, and that\nevery attempt to do so involves us in contradiction and absurdity; but\nhaving reached this vast negation, their logic and philosophy break down.\nAccepting their conclusions as far as they go, Mr. Spencer maintains the\nutter incompleteness of their reasoning, and, pushing the inquiry still\nfarther, he demonstrates that though we cannot grasp the Infinite in\n_thought_, we can realize it in _consciousness_. He shows that though by\nthe laws of thinking we are rigorously prevented from forming a\n_conception_ of that Incomprehensible, Omnipotent Power by which we are\nacted upon in all phenomena, yet we are, by the laws of thought, equally\nprevented from ridding ourselves of the _consciousness_ of this Power. He\nproves that this consciousness of a Supreme Cause is not _negative_, but\n_positive_--that it is indestructible, and has a higher certainty than any\nother belief whatever. The Unknowable, then, in the view of Mr. Spencer, is\nnot a mere term of negation, nor a word employed only to express our\nignorance, but it means that Infinite Reality, that Supreme but Inscrutable\nCause, of which the universe is but a manifestation, and which has an\never-present disclosure in human consciousness.\n\nHaving thus found an indestructible basis in human nature for the religious\nsentiment, Mr. Spencer next shows that all religions rest upon this\nfoundation, and contain a fundamental verity--a soul of truth, which\nremains when their conflicting doctrines and discordant peculiarities are\nmutually cancelled. In the lower and grosser forms of religion this truth\nis but dimly discerned, but becomes ever clearer the more highly the\nreligion is developed, surviving every change, and remaining untouched by\nthe severest criticism.\n\nMr. Spencer then proceeds to demonstrate that all science tends to\nprecisely the same great conclusion;--in all directions investigation leads\nto insoluble mystery. Alike in the external and the internal worlds, the\nman of science sees himself in the midst of perpetual changes of which he\ncan discover neither the beginning nor the end. If he looks inward, he\nperceives that both ends of the thread of consciousness are beyond his\ngrasp. If he resolve the appearances, properties, and movements of\nsurrounding things into manifestations of Force in Space and Time, he still\nfinds that Force, Space, and Time pass all understanding. Thus do all lines\nof argument converge to the same conclusion. Whether we scrutinize internal\nconsciousness or external phenomena, or trace to their root the faiths of\nmankind, we reach that common ground where all antagonisms disappear--that\nhighest and most abstract of all truths, which is affirmed with equal\ncertainty by both religion and science, and in which may be found their\nfull and final reconciliation.\n\nIt is perhaps hardly just to Mr. Spencer to state his position upon this\ngrave subject without giving also the accompanying reasoning; but so\ncompressed and symmetrical is his argument that it cannot be put into\nnarrower compass without mutilation. To those interested in the advance of\nthought in this direction, we may say that the discussion will be found\nunsurpassed in nobleness of aim, eloquence of statement, philosophic\nbreadth, and depth and power of reasoning.\n\nThis portion of the work embraces five chapters, as follows: I. Religion\nand Science; II. Ultimate Religious Ideas; III. Ultimate Scientific Ideas;\nIV. The Relativity of all Knowledge; V. The Reconciliation.\n\nThe second and larger portion of _First Principles_ Mr. Spencer designates\n\"The Laws of the Knowable.\" By these he understands those fundamental and\nuniversal principles reached by scientific investigation, which underlie\nall phenomena, and are necessary to their explanation. Certain great laws\nhave been established which are found equally true in all departments of\nnature, and these are made the foundation of his philosophy. The sublime\nidea of the Unity of the Universe, to which science has long been tending,\nMr. Spencer has made peculiarly his own. Through the vast diversities of\nnature he discerns a oneness of order and method, which necessitates but\none philosophy of being; the same principles being found to regulate the\ncourse of celestial movement, terrestrial changes, and the phenomena of\nlife, mind, and society. These may all be comprehended in a single\nphilosophical scheme, so that each shall throw light upon the other, and\nthe mastery of one help to the comprehension of all.\n\nTo Mr. Spencer the one conception which spans the universe and solves the\nwidest range of its problems--which reaches outward through boundless space\nand back through illimitable time, resolving the deepest questions of life,\nmind, society, history, and civilization, which predicts the glorious\npossibilities of the future, and reveals the august method by which the\nDivine Power works evermore,--this one, all-elucidating conception, is\nexpressed by the term EVOLUTION. To this great subject he has devoted his\nremarkable powers of thought for many years, and stands toward it not only\nin the relation of an expositor, but also in that of a discoverer.\n\nThe fact that all living beings are developed from a minute structureless\ngerm has long been known, while the law which governs their evolution--that\nthe change is ever from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous--has been\narrived at within a generation. But this fact of growth is by no means\nlimited to the physical history of plants and animals--it is exemplified\nupon a far more extended scale. Astronomers hold that the solar system has\ngone through such a process, and Geologists teach that the earth has had\nits career of evolution. Animals have a mental as well as a physical\ndevelopment, and there is also a progress of knowledge, of religion, of the\narts and sciences, of institutions, manners, governments, and civilization\nitself. Mr. Spencer has the honour of having first established the\nuniversality of the principle by which all these changes are governed. The\nlaw of evolution, which has been hitherto limited to plants and animals, he\ndemonstrates to be the law of _all_ evolution. This doctrine is unfolded in\nthe first Essay of the present volume, and is more or less fully\nillustrated in the others; but it will be found elaborately worked out in\nthe second part of _First Principles_.\n\nThe course of the discussion in this part of the work will be best shown by\nenumerating the titles to the chapters, which are as follows: I. Laws in\nGeneral; II. The Law of Evolution; III. The Same continued; IV. The Causes\nof Evolution; V. Space, Time, Matter, Motion, and Force; VI. The\nIndestructibility of Matter; VII. The Continuity of Motion; VIII. The\nPersistence of Force; IX. The Correlation and Equivalence of Forces; X. The\nDirection of Motion; XI. The Rhythm of Motion; XII. The Conditions\nEssential to Evolution; XIII. The Instability of the Homogeneous; XIV. The\nMultiplication of Effects; XV. Differentiation and Integration; XVI.\nEquilibration; XVII. Summary and Conclusion.\n\nA most interesting and fruitful field of thought, it will be seen, is here\ntraversed by our author, and the latest and highest questions of science\nare discussed under novel aspects and in new relations. Not only do the\npages abound with acute suggestions and fresh views, but the entire\nargument, in its leading demonstrations, and the full breadth of its\nphilosophic scope, is stamped with a high originality.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHaving thus determined the sphere of philosophy and ascertained those\nfundamental principles governing all orders of phenomena which are to be\nsubsequently used for guidance and verification, the author proceeds to the\nsecond work of the series, which is devoted to Biology, or the Science of\nLife. He regards life not as a foreign and unintelligible something, thrust\ninto the scheme of nature, of which we can know nothing save its mystery,\nbut as an essential part of the universal plan. The harmonies of life are\nregarded as but phases of the universal harmony, and Biology is studied by\nthe same methods as other departments of science. The great truths of\nPhysics and Chemistry are applied to its elucidation; its facts are\ncollected, its inductions established, and constantly verified by the first\nprinciples laid down at the outset. Apart from its connections with the\nphilosophical system, of which it forms a part, this work will have great\nintrinsic interest. Nothing was more needed than a compact and\nwell-digested statement of those general principles of life to which\nscience has arrived, and Mr. Spencer's presentation is proving to be just\nwhat is required. Some idea of his mode of treating the subject may be\nformed by glancing over a few of his first chapter-headings. PART FIRST: I.\nOrganic Matter; II. The Actions of Forces on Organic Matter; III. The\nReactions of Organic Matter on Forces; IV. Proximate Definition of Life; V.\nThe Correspondence between Life and its Circumstances; VI. The Degree of\nLife Varies with the Degree of Correspondence; VII. Inductions of Biology.\nPART SECOND: I. Growth; II. Development; III. Function; IV. Waste and\nRepair; V. Adaptation; VI. Individuality; VII. Genesis; VIII. Heredity; IX.\nVariation; X. Genesis, Heredity and Variation; XI. Classification; XII.\nDistribution.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the scheme of nature Mind is ever associated with Life. The third\ndivision of this philosophical system will therefore be Psychology, or the\nScience of Mind. This great subject will be considered, not by the narrow\nmethods usual with metaphysicians, but in its broadest aspects as a phase\nof nature's order--to be studied by observation and induction through the\nwhole range of psychical manifestation in animated beings. The subject of\nmind will be regarded in the light of the great truths of Biology\npreviously established; the connections of mind and life will be traced;\nthe progress of mentality as exhibited in the animal grades, and the\nevolution of the intellectual faculties in man will be delineated and the\ncooperation of mind and nature in the production of ideas and intelligence\nunfolded. We have no work upon mind of this comprehensive and thoroughly\nscientific character: the materials are abundant, and the necessity of\ntheir organization is widely recognized. That Mr. Spencer is eminently the\nman to perform this great task is proved by the fact that he is already the\nauthor of the most profound and able contribution to the advancement of\npsychological science that has appeared for many years.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the true philosophic order, Biology and Psychology prepare the way for\nthe study of social science, and hence the fourth part of Mr. Spencer's\nsystem will treat of Sociology, or the natural laws of society. As a\nknowledge of individuals must precede an understanding of their mutual\nrelations, so an exposition of the laws of life and mind, which constitute\nthe science of human nature, must precede the successful study of social\nphenomena. In this part will be considered the development of society, or\nthat intellectual and moral progress which depends upon the growth of human\nideas and feelings in their necessary order. The evolution of political,\necclesiastical, and industrial organizations will be traced, and a\nstatement made of those principles underlying all social progress, without\nwhich there can be no successful regulation of the affairs of society. Mr.\nSpencer's mind has long been occupied with these important questions, as\nthe reader will find by referring to his able work upon \"Social Statics,\"\npublished several years ago.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLastly, in Part Fifth, Mr. Spencer proposes to consider the _Principles of\nMorality_, bringing to bear the truths furnished by Biology, Psychology,\nand Sociology, to determine the true theory of right living. He will show\nthat the true moral ideal and limit of progress is the attainment of an\nequilibrium between constitution and conditions of existence, and trace\nthose principles of private conduct, physical, intellectual, moral, and\nreligious that follow from the conditions to complete individual life.\nThose rules of human action which all civilized nations have registered as\nessential laws--the inductions of morality--will be delineated, and also\nthose mutual limitations of men's actions necessitated by their coexistence\nas units of society, which constitute the foundation of justice.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt cannot be doubted that the order here indicated, as it corresponds to\nthe method of nature, is the one which Philosophy must pursue in the\nfuture. It combines the precision of science with the harmony and unity of\nuniversal truth. The time is past when Biology can be considered with no\nreference to the laws of Physics; Mind with no reference to the science of\nLife, and Sociology, without having previously mastered the foregoing\nsubjects. The progress of knowledge is now toward more definite,\nsystematic, and comprehensive views, while it is the highest function of\nintellect to coordinate and bind together its isolated and fragmentary\nparts. In carrying out his great plan, therefore, Mr. Spencer is but\nembodying the large philosophical tendencies of the age.\n\nIf it is urged that his scheme is too vast for any one man to accomplish,\nit may be replied: 1st. That it is not intended to treat the various\nsubjects exhaustively, but only to state general principles with just\nsufficient details for their clear illustration. 2d. A considerable portion\nof the work is already issued, and much more is ready for publication,\nwhile the author is still in the prime of life. 3d. It must be remembered\nthat intellects occasionally appear, endowed with that comprehensive grasp\nand high organizing power which fits them for vast undertakings. The reader\nwill find at the close of the volume Mr. Spencer's Prospectus of his\nsystem. That he who has so clearly mapped out his work is the proper one to\nexecute it, we think will be fully apparent to all who peruse the present\nvolume.\n\nAn impression prevails with many that Mr. Spencer belongs to the positive\nschool of M. Auguste Comte. This is an entire misapprehension; but the\nposition having been assumed by several of his reviewers, he repels the\ncharge in the following letter, which appeared in the _New Englander_ for\nJanuary, 1864.\n\n_To the Editor of the New Englander_:\n\nSIR:--While recognizing the appreciative tone and general candour of\nthe article in your last number, entitled \"Herbert Spencer on Ultimate\nReligious Ideas,\" allow me to point out one error which pervades it.\nThe writer correctly represents the leading positions of my argument,\nbut he inadvertently conveys a wrong impression respecting my\ntendencies and sympathies. He says of me, \"the spirit of his philosophy\nis evidently that of the so-called positive method which has now many\npartial disciples, as well as many zealous adherents among the thinkers\nof England.\" Further on I am tacitly classed with \"the English admirers\nand disciples of the great Positivist;\" and it is presently added that\n\"in Mr. Spencer we have an example of a positivist, who does not treat\nthe subject of religion with supercilious neglect.\" Here and\nthroughout, the implication is that I am a follower of Comte. This is a\nmistake. That M. Comte has given a general exposition of the doctrine\nand method elaborated by science, and has applied to it a name which\nhas obtained a certain currency, is true. But it is not true that the\nholders of this doctrine and followers of this method are disciples of\nM. Comte. Neither their modes of inquiry nor their views concerning\nhuman knowledge in its nature and limits are appreciably different from\nwhat they were before. If they are Positivists it is in the sense that\nall men of science have been more or less consistently Positivists; and\nthe applicability of M. Comte's title to them no more makes them his\ndisciples than does its applicability to the men of science who lived\nand died before M. Comte wrote, make them his disciples.\n\nMy own attitude toward M. Comte and his partial adherents has been all\nalong that of antagonism. In an essay on the \"Genesis of Science,\"\npublished in 1854, and republished with other essays in 1857, I have\nendeavoured to show that his theory of the logical dependence and\nhistorical development of the sciences is untrue. I have still among my\npapers the memoranda of a second review (for which I failed to obtain a\nplace), the purpose of which was to show the untenableness of his\ntheory of intellectual progress. The only doctrine of importance in\nwhich I agree with him--the relativity of all knowledge--is one common\nto him and sundry other thinkers of earlier date; and even this I hold\nin a different sense from that in which he held it. But on all points\nthat are distinctive of his philosophy, I differ from him. I deny his\nHierarchy of the Sciences. I regard his division of intellectual\nprogress into the three phases, theological, metaphysical, and\npositive, as superficial. I reject utterly his Religion of Humanity.\nAnd his ideal of society I hold in detestation. Some of his minor views\nI accept; some of his incidental remarks seem to me to be profound, but\nfrom everything which distinguishes Comteism as a system, I dissent\nentirely. The only influence on my own course of thought which I can\ntrace to M. Comte's writings, is the influence that results from\nmeeting with antagonistic opinions definitely expressed.\n\nSuch being my position, you will, I think, see that by classing me as a\nPositivist, and tacitly including me among the English admirers and\ndisciples of Comte, your reviewer unintentionally misrepresents me. I\nam quite ready to bear the odium attaching to opinions which I do hold;\nbut I object to have added the odium attaching to opinions which I _do\nnot_ hold. If, by publishing this letter in your forthcoming number,\nyou will allow me to set myself right with the American public on this\nmatter, you will greatly oblige me. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,\n\n                                                       HERBERT SPENCER.\n\nWe take the liberty of making an extract from a private letter of Mr.\nSpencer, which contains some further observations in the same connection:\n\n\"There appears to have got abroad in the United States, a very\nerroneous impression respecting the influence of Comte's writings in\nEngland. I suppose that the currency obtained by the words 'Positivism'\nand 'Positivist,' is to blame for this. Comte having designated by the\nterm Positive Philosophy all that body of definitely-established\nknowledge which men of science have been gradually organizing into a\ncoherent body of doctrine, and having habitually placed this in\nopposition to the incoherent body of doctrine defended by theologians,\nit has become the habit of the theological party to think of the\nantagonist scientific party under this title of Positivists applied to\nthem by Comte. And thus, from the habit of calling them Positivists\nthere has grown up the assumption that they call themselves\nPositivists, and that they are the disciples of Comte. The truth is\nthat Comte and his doctrines receive here scarcely any attention. I\nknow something of the scientific world in England, and I cannot name a\nsingle man of science who acknowledges himself a follower of Comte, or\naccepts the title of Positivist. Lest, however, there should be some\nsuch who were unknown to me, I have recently made inquiries into the\nmatter. To Professor Tyndall I put the question whether Comte had\nexerted any appreciable influence on his own course of thought: and he\nreplied, 'So far as I know, my own course of thought would have been\nexactly the same had Comte never existed.' I then asked, 'Do you know\nany men of science whose views have been affected by Comte's writings?'\nand his answer was: 'His influence on scientific thought in England is\nabsolutely _nil_.' To the same questions Prof. Huxley returned, in\nother words, the same answers. Professors Huxley and Tyndall, being\nleaders in their respective departments, and being also men of general\nculture and philosophic insight, I think that, joining their\nimpressions with my own, I am justified in saying that the scientific\nworld of England is wholly uninfluenced by Comte. Such small influence\nas he has had here has been on some literary men and historians--men\nwho were attracted by the grand achievements of science, who were\ncharmed by the plausible system of scientific generalizations put forth\nby Comte, with the usual French regard for symmetry and disregard for\nfact, and who were, from their want of scientific training, unable to\ndetect the essential fallaciousness of his system. Of these the most\nnotable example was the late Mr. Buckle. Besides him, I can name but\nseven men who have been in any appreciable degree influenced by Comte;\nand of these, four, if not five, are scarcely known to the public.\"\n\nMr. Spencer's philosophical series is published by D. Appleton & Co., New\nYork, in quarterly parts (80 to 100 pages each), by subscription, at two\ndollars a year. \"_First Principles_\" is issued in one volume, and four\nparts of Biology have appeared. We subjoin some notices of his philosophy\nfrom American and English reviews.\n\n\n  _From the National Quarterly Review_ (American.)\n\nComte thus founded social science, and opened a path for future\ndiscoverers; but he did not perceive, any more than previous inquirers,\nthe fundamental law of human evolution. It was reserved for Herbert\nSpencer to discover this all-comprehensive law which is found to\nexplain alike all the phenomena of man's history and all those of\nexternal nature. This sublime discovery, that the universe is in a\ncontinuous process of evolution from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous, with which only Newton's law of gravitation is at all\nworthy to be compared, underlies not only physics, but also history. It\nreveals the law to which social changes conform.\n\n\n  _From the Christian Examiner._\n\nReverent and bold--reverent for truth, though not for the forms of\ntruth, and not for much that we hold true--bold in the destruction of\nerror, though without that joy in destruction which often claims the\nname of boldness;--these works are interesting in themselves and in\ntheir relation to the current thought of the time. They seem at first\nsight to form the turning point in the positive philosophy, but closer\nexamination shows us that it is only a new and marked stage in a\nregular growth. It is the positive philosophy reaching the higher\nrelations of our being, and establishing what before it ignored because\nit had not reached, and by ignoring seemed to deny. This system\nformerly excluded theology and psychology. In the works of Herbert\nSpencer we have the rudiments of a positive theology and an immense\nstep toward the perfection of the science of psychology.... Such is a\nbrief and meagre sketch of a discussion which we would commend to be\nfollowed in detail by every mind interested in theological studies.\nHerbert Spencer comes in good faith from what has been so long a\nhostile camp, bringing a flag of truce and presenting terms of\nagreement meant to be honourable to both parties: let us give him a\ncandid hearing.... In conclusion, we would remark that the work of\nHerbert Spencer referred to (First Principles) is not mainly\ntheological, but will present the latest and broadest generalizations\nof science, and we would commend to our readers this author, too little\nknown among us, as at once one of the clearest of teachers and one of\nthe wisest and most honourable of opponents.\n\n\n  _From the New Englander._\n\nThough we find here some unwarranted assumptions, as well as some grave\nomissions, yet this part (Laws of the Knowable) may be considered, upon\nthe whole, as a fine specimen of scientific reasoning. Considerable\nspace is devoted to the \"Law of Evolution\" the discovery of which is\nthe author's chief claim to originality, and certainly evinces great\npower of generalization. To quote the abstract definition without a\nfull statement of the inductions from which it is derived would convey\nno fair impression of the breadth and strength of the thought which it\nepitomizes. Of Mr. Spencer's general characteristics as a writer, we\nmay observe that his style is marked by great purity, clearness, and\nforce; though it is somewhat diffuse, and the abstract nature of some\nof his topics occasionally renders his thought difficult of\napprehension. His treatment of his subjects is generally thorough and\nsometimes exhaustive; his arguments are always ingenious if not always\nconvincing; his illustrations are drawn from almost every accessible\nfield of human knowledge, and his method of \"putting things\" is such as\nto make the most of his materials. He is undoubtedly entitled to a high\nrank among the speculative and philosophic writers of the present\nday....\n\nIn Mr. Spencer we have the example of a positivist, who does not treat\nthe subject of religion with supercilious neglect, and who illustrates\nby his own method of reasoning upon the highest objects of human\nthought, the value of those metaphysical studies which it is so much\nthe fashion of his school to decry. For both these reasons the volume,\nwhich we now propose to examine, deserves the careful attention of the\ntheologian who desires to know what one of the strongest thinkers of\nhis school, commonly thought atheistic in its tendencies, can say in\nbehalf of our ultimate religious ideas. For if we mistake not, in spite\nof the very negative character of his own results, he has furnished\nsome strong arguments for the doctrine of a positive Christian\ntheology. We shall be mistaken if we expect to find him carelessly\npassing these matters by (religious faith and theological science) as\nin all respects beyond knowledge and of no practical concern. On the\ncontrary, he gives them profound attention, and arrives at conclusions\nin regard to them which even the Christian theologian must allow to\ncontain a large measure of truth. While showing the _unsearchable\nnature_ of the ultimate facts on which religion depends, he\ndemonstrates their _real existence_ and their great importance.... In\nanswering these questions Mr. Spencer has, we think, arrived nearer to\na true philosophy than either Hamilton or Mansel. At least he has\nindicated in a more satisfactory manner than they have done, the\npositive datum of consciousness that the unconditioned, though\ninscrutable, _exists_. It may be said that Mr. Spencer is not\nchargeable with excluding God from the universe, or denying all\nrevelation of Him in His works, since he earnestly defends the truth\nthat an inscrutable power is shown to _exist_. We certainly would not\ncharge him with theoretical atheism, holding as he does this ultimate\nreligious idea.\n\n\n  _From the North American Review._\n\nThe law of organic development announced in the early part of the\npresent century, by Goethe, Schelling, and Von Baer, and vaguely\nexpressed in the formula, that \"evolution is always from the homogenous\nto the heterogeneous, and from the simple to the complex,\" has recently\nbeen extended by Herbert Spencer so as to include all phenomena\nwhatsoever. He has shown that this law of evolution is the law of _all_\nevolution. Whether it be in the development of the earth or of life\nupon its surface, in the development of Society, of government, of\nmanufactures, of commerce, of language, literature, science and art,\nthis same advance from the simple to the complex, through successive\ndifferentiations, holds uniformly. The stupendous induction from all\nclasses of phenomena by which Mr. Spencer proceeds to establish and\nillustrate his theorem cannot be given here.\n\n\n  _From the Christian Spectator_ (_English_).\n\nMr. Spencer claims for his view that it is not only a religious\nposition, but preeminently _the_ religious position; and we are most\nthoroughly disposed to agree with him, though we think he does not\nappreciate the force of his own argument, nor fully understand his own\nwords. For let us now attempt to realize the meaning of this fact, of\nwhich Mr. Spencer and his compeers have put us in possession; let us\nendeavour to see whether its bearings are really favorable or adverse\nto religion. They are put forward indeed avowedly as adverse to any\nother religion than a mere reverential acquiescence in ignorance\nconcerning all that truly exists; but it appears to us that this\nsupposed opposition to religion arises from the fact that the doctrine\nitself is so profoundly, so intensely, so overwhelmingly religious,\nnay, so utterly and entirely CHRISTIAN, that its true meaning could not\nbe seen for very glory. Like Moses, when he came down from the Mount,\nthis positive philosophy comes with a veil over its face, that its too\ndivine radiance may be hidden for a time. This is Science that has been\nconversing with GOD, and brings in her hand His law written on tables\nof stone.\n\n\n  _From the Reader._\n\nTo answer the question of the likelihood of the permanence of Mr.\nMill's philosophic reign, ... we should have to take account, among\nother things, of the differences from Mr. Mill already shown by the\nextraordinarily able and peculiarly original thinker whose name we have\nassociated with Mr. Mill's at the head of this article. We may take\noccasion, at another time, to call attention to these speculations of\nMr. Herbert Spencer, whose works in the meantime, and especially that\nnew one whose title we have cited, we recommend to all those select\nreaders whose appreciation of masterly exposition, and great reach and\nboldness of generalization, does not depend on their mere disposition\nto agree with the doctrines propounded.\n\n\n  _From the British Quarterly Review._\n\nComplete in itself, it is at the same time but a part of a whole,\nwhich, if it should be constructed in proportion, will be ten times as\ngreat. For these First Principles are merely the foundation of a system\nof philosophy, bolder, more elaborate and comprehensive, perhaps, than\nany other which has been hitherto designed in England.... Widely as it\nwill be seen we differ from the author on some points, we very\nsincerely hope he may succeed in accomplishing the bold and magnificent\nproject he has mapped out.\n\n\n  _From the Cornhill Magazine._\n\nOur \"Survey,\" superficial as it is, must include at least the mention\nof a work so lofty in aim, and so remarkable in execution as the system\nof Philosophy which Mr. Herbert Spencer is issuing to subscribers....\nIn spite of all dissidence respecting the conclusions, the serious\nreader will applaud the profound earnestness and thoroughness with\nwhich these conclusions are advocated; the universal scientific\nknowledge brought to bear on them by way of illustration, and the acute\nand subtle thinking displayed in every chapter.\n\n\n  _From the Parthenon._\n\nBy these books he has wedged his way into fame in a manner distinctly\noriginal, and curiously marked.... There is a peculiar charm in this\nauthor's style, in that it sacrifices to no common taste, while at the\nsame time it makes the most abstruse questions intelligible.... The\nbook, if it is to be noticed with the slightest degree of fairness,\nrequires to be read and re-read, to be studied apart from itself and\nwith itself. For whatever may be its ultimate fate--although as the\nages go on it shall become but as the lispings of a little child, a\nlittle more educated than other lisping children of the same time--this\nis certain, that, as a book addressed to the present, it lifts the mind\nfar above the ordinary range of thought, suggests new associations,\narranges chaotic pictures, strikes often a broad harmony, and even\nmoves the heart by an intellectual struggle as passionless as fate, but\nas irresistible as time.\n\n\n  _From the Critic._\n\nMr. Spencer is the foremost mind of the only philosophical school in\nEngland which has arrived at a consistent scheme... Beyond this school\nwe encounter an indolent chaotic eclecticism. Mr. Spencer claims the\nrespect due to distinct and daring individuality; others are echoes or\nslaves. Mr. Spencer may be a usurper, but he has the voice and gesture\nof a king.\n\n\n  _From the Medico-Chirurgical Review._\n\nMr. Spencer is equally remarkable for his search after first\nprinciples; for his acute attempts to decompose mental phenomena into\ntheir primary elements; and for his broad generalizations of mental\nactivity, viewed in connection with nature, instinct, and all the\nanalogies presented by _life_ in its universal aspects.\n\n\n\n\nEDITOR'S PREFACE.\n\n\nThe essays contained in the present volume were first published in the\nEnglish periodicals--chiefly the Quarterly Reviews. They contain ideas of\npermanent interest, and display an amount of thought and labor evidently\nmuch greater than is usually bestowed on review articles. They were written\nwith a view to ultimate republication in an enduring form, and were issued\nin London with several other papers, under the title of \"Essays;\nScientific, Political, and Speculative,\" first and second series;--the\nformer appearing in 1857, and the latter in 1863.\n\nThe interest created in Mr. Spencer's writings by the publication in this\ncountry of his valuable work on \"Education,\" and by criticisms of his other\nworks, has created a demand for these discussions which can only be\nsupplied by their republication. They are now, however, issued in a new\nform, and are more suited to develop the author's purpose in their\npreparation; for while each of these essays has its intrinsic and\nindependent claims upon the reader's attention, they are all at the same\ntime but parts of a connected and comprehensive argument. Nearly all of Mr.\nSpencer's essays have relations more or less direct to the general doctrine\nof Evolution--a doctrine which he has probably done more to unfold and\nillustrate than any other thinker. The papers comprised in the present\nvolume are those which deal with the subject in its most obvious and\nprominent aspects.\n\nAlthough the argument contained in the first essay on \"Progress; its Law\nand Cause,\" has been published in an amplified form in the author's \"First\nPrinciples,\" it has been thought best to prefix it to the present\ncollection as a key to the full interpretation of the other essays.\n\nTo those who read this volume its commendation will be superfluous; we will\nonly say that those who become interested in his course of thought will\nfind it completely elaborated in his new System of Philosophy, now in\ncourse of publication.\n\nThe remaining articles of Mr. Spencer's first and second series will be\nshortly published, in a volume entitled \"Essays; Moral, Political, and\nAEsthetic.\"\n\n  NEW YORK, _March_, 1864.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n    I.  Progress: Its Law and Cause,                       1\n   II.  Manners and Fashion,                              61\n  III.  The Genesis of Science,                          116\n   IV.  The Physiology of Laughter,                      194\n    V.  The Origin and Function of Music,                210\n   VI.  The Nebular Hypothesis,                          239\n  VII.  Bain on the Emotions and the Will,               300\n VIII.  Illogical Geology,                               325\n   IX.  The Development Hypothesis,                      377\n    X.  The Social Organism,                             384\n   XI.  Use and Beauty,                                  429\n  XII.  The Sources of Architectural Types,              434\n XIII.  The Use of Anthropomorphism,                     440\n\n\n\n\nI. PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE.\n\n\nThe current conception of Progress is somewhat shifting and indefinite.\nSometimes it comprehends little more than simple growth--as of a nation in\nthe number of its members and the extent of territory over which it has\nspread. Sometimes it has reference to quantity of material products--as\nwhen the advance of agriculture and manufactures is the topic. Sometimes\nthe superior quality of these products is contemplated: and sometimes the\nnew or improved appliances by which they are produced. When, again, we\nspeak of moral or intellectual progress, we refer to the state of the\nindividual or people exhibiting it; while, when the progress of Knowledge,\nof Science, of Art, is commented upon, we have in view certain abstract\nresults of human thought and action. Not only, however, is the current\nconception of Progress more or less vague, but it is in great measure\nerroneous. It takes in not so much the reality of Progress as its\naccompaniments--not so much the substance as the shadow. That progress in\nintelligence seen during the growth of the child into the man, or the\nsavage into the philosopher, is commonly regarded as consisting in the\ngreater number of facts known and laws understood: whereas the actual\nprogress consists in those internal modifications of which this increased\nknowledge is the expression. Social progress is supposed to consist in the\nproduce of a greater quantity and variety of the articles required for\nsatisfying men's wants; in the increasing security of person and property;\nin widening freedom of action: whereas, rightly understood, social progress\nconsists in those changes of structure in the social organism which have\nentailed these consequences. The current conception is a teleological one.\nThe phenomena are contemplated solely as bearing on human happiness. Only\nthose changes are held to constitute progress which directly or indirectly\ntend to heighten human happiness. And they are thought to constitute\nprogress simply _because_ they tend to heighten human happiness. But\nrightly to understand progress, we must inquire what is the nature of these\nchanges, considered apart from our interests. Ceasing, for example, to\nregard the successive geological modifications that have taken place in the\nEarth, as modifications that have gradually fitted it for the habitation of\nMan, and as _therefore_ a geological progress, we must seek to determine\nthe character common to these modifications--the law to which they all\nconform. And similarly in every other case. Leaving out of sight\nconcomitants and beneficial consequences, let us ask what Progress is in\nitself.\n\nIn respect to that progress which individual organisms display in the\ncourse of their evolution, this question has been answered by the Germans.\nThe investigations of Wolff, Goethe, and Von Baer, have established the\ntruth that the series of changes gone through during the development of a\nseed into a tree, or an ovum into an animal, constitute an advance from\nhomogeneity of structure to heterogeneity of structure. In its primary\nstage, every germ consists of a substance that is uniform throughout, both\nin texture and chemical composition. The first step is the appearance of a\ndifference between two parts of this substance; or, as the phenomenon is\ncalled in physiological language, a differentiation. Each of these\ndifferentiated divisions presently begins itself to exhibit some contrast\nof parts; and by and by these secondary differentiations become as definite\nas the original one. This process is continuously repeated--is\nsimultaneously going on in all parts of the growing embryo; and by endless\nsuch differentiations there is finally produced that complex combination of\ntissues and organs constituting the adult animal or plant. This is the\nhistory of all organisms whatever. It is settled beyond dispute that\norganic progress consists in a change from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous.\n\nNow, we propose in the first place to show, that this law of organic\nprogress is the law of all progress. Whether it be in the development of\nthe Earth, in the development of Life upon its surface, in the development\nof Society, of Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of Language,\nLiterature, Science, Art, this same evolution of the simple into the\ncomplex, through successive differentiations, holds throughout. From the\nearliest traceable cosmical changes down to the latest results of\ncivilization, we shall find that the transformation of the homogeneous into\nthe heterogeneous, is that in which Progress essentially consists.\n\nWith the view of showing that _if_ the Nebular Hypothesis be true, the\ngenesis of the solar system supplies one illustration of this law, let us\nassume that the matter of which the sun and planets consist was once in a\ndiffused form; and that from the gravitation of its atoms there resulted a\ngradual concentration. By the hypothesis, the solar system in its nascent\nstate existed as an indefinitely extended and nearly homogeneous medium--a\nmedium almost homogeneous in density, in temperature, and in other physical\nattributes. The first advance towards consolidation resulted in a\ndifferentiation between the occupied space which the nebulous mass still\nfilled, and the unoccupied space which it previously filled. There\nsimultaneously resulted a contrast in density and a contrast in\ntemperature, between the interior and the exterior of this mass. And at the\nsame time there arose throughout it rotatory movements, whose velocities\nvaried according to their distances from its centre. These differentiations\nincreased in number and degree until there was evolved the organized group\nof sun, planets, and satellites, which we now know--a group which presents\nnumerous contrasts of structure and action among its members. There are the\nimmense contrasts between the sun and planets, in bulk and in weight; as\nwell as the subordinate contrasts between one planet and another, and\nbetween the planets and their satellites. There is the similarly marked\ncontrast between the sun as almost stationary, and the planets as moving\nround him with great velocity; while there are the secondary contrasts\nbetween the velocities and periods of the several planets, and between\ntheir simple revolutions and the double ones of their satellites, which\nhave to move round their primaries while moving round the sun. There is the\nyet further strong contrast between the sun and the planets in respect of\ntemperature; and there is reason to suppose that the planets and satellites\ndiffer from each other in their proper heat, as well as in the heat they\nreceive from the sun.\n\nWhen we bear in mind that, in addition to these various contrasts, the\nplanets and satellites also differ in respect to their distances from each\nother and their primary; in respect to the inclinations of their orbits,\nthe inclinations of their axes, their times of rotation on their axes,\ntheir specific gravities, and their physical constitutions; we see what a\nhigh degree of heterogeneity the solar system exhibits, when compared with\nthe almost complete homogeneity of the nebulous mass out of which it is\nsupposed to have originated.\n\nPassing from this hypothetical illustration, which must be taken for what\nit is worth, without prejudice to the general argument, let us descend to a\nmore certain order of evidence. It is now generally agreed among geologists\nthat the Earth was at first a mass of molten matter; and that it is still\nfluid and incandescent at the distance of a few miles beneath its surface.\nOriginally, then, it was homogeneous in consistence, and, in virtue of the\ncirculation that takes place in heated fluids, must have been comparatively\nhomogeneous in temperature; and it must have been surrounded by an\natmosphere consisting partly of the elements of air and water, and partly\nof those various other elements which assume a gaseous form at high\ntemperatures. That slow cooling by radiation which is still going on at an\ninappreciable rate, and which, though originally far more rapid than now,\nnecessarily required an immense time to produce any decided change, must\nultimately have resulted in the solidification of the portion most able to\npart with its heat--namely, the surface. In the thin crust thus formed we\nhave the first marked differentiation. A still further cooling, a\nconsequent thickening of this crust, and an accompanying deposition of all\nsolidifiable elements contained in the atmosphere, must finally have been\nfollowed by the condensation of the water previously existing as vapour. A\nsecond marked differentiation must thus have arisen: and as the\ncondensation must have taken place on the coolest parts of the\nsurface--namely, about the poles--there must thus have resulted the first\ngeographical distinction of parts. To these illustrations of growing\nheterogeneity, which, though deduced from the known laws of matter, may be\nregarded as more or less hypothetical, Geology adds an extensive series\nthat have been inductively established. Its investigations show that the\nEarth has been continually becoming more heterogeneous in virtue of the\nmultiplication of the strata which form its crust; further, that it has\nbeen becoming more heterogeneous in respect of the composition of these\nstrata, the latter of which, being made from the detritus of the older\nones, are many of them rendered highly complex by the mixture of materials\nthey contain; and that this heterogeneity has been vastly increased by the\naction of the Earth's still molten nucleus upon its envelope, whence have\nresulted not only a great variety of igneous rocks, but the tilting up of\nsedimentary strata at all angles, the formation of faults and metallic\nveins, the production of endless dislocations and irregularities. Yet\nagain, geologists teach us that the Earth's surface has been growing more\nvaried in elevation--that the most ancient mountain systems are the\nsmallest, and the Andes and Himalayas the most modern; while in all\nprobability there have been corresponding changes in the bed of the ocean.\nAs a consequence of these ceaseless differentiations, we now find that no\nconsiderable portion of the Earth's exposed surface is like any other\nportion, either in contour, in geologic structure, or in chemical\ncomposition; and that in most parts it changes from mile to mile in all\nthese characteristics.\n\nMoreover, it must not be forgotten that there has been simultaneously going\non a gradual differentiation of climates. As fast as the Earth cooled and\nits crust solidified, there arose appreciable differences in temperature\nbetween those parts of its surface most exposed to the sun and those less\nexposed. Gradually, as the cooling progressed, these differences became\nmore pronounced; until there finally resulted those marked contrasts\nbetween regions of perpetual ice and snow, regions where winter and summer\nalternately reign for periods varying according to the latitude, and\nregions where summer follows summer with scarcely an appreciable variation.\nAt the same time the successive elevations and subsidences of different\nportions of the Earth's crust, tending as they have done to the present\nirregular distribution of land and sea, have entailed various modifications\nof climate beyond those dependent on latitude; while a yet further series\nof such modifications have been produced by increasing differences of\nelevation in the land, which have in sundry places brought arctic,\ntemperate, and tropical climates to within a few miles of each other. And\nthe general result of these changes is, that not only has every extensive\nregion its own meteorologic conditions, but that every locality in each\nregion differs more or less from others in those conditions, as in its\nstructure, its contour, its soil. Thus, between our existing Earth, the\nphenomena of whose varied crust neither geographers, geologists,\nmineralogists, nor meteorologists have yet enumerated, and the molten globe\nout of which it was evolved, the contrast in heterogeneity is sufficiently\nstriking.\n\nWhen from the Earth itself we turn to the plants and animals that have\nlived, or still live, upon its surface, we find ourselves in some\ndifficulty from lack of facts. That every existing organism has been\ndeveloped out of the simple into the complex, is indeed the first\nestablished truth of all; and that every organism that has existed was\nsimilarly developed, is an inference which no physiologist will hesitate to\ndraw. But when we pass from individual forms of life to Life in general,\nand inquire whether the same law is seen in the _ensemble_ of its\nmanifestations,--whether modern plants and animals are of more\nheterogeneous structure than ancient ones, and whether the Earth's present\nFlora and Fauna are more heterogeneous than the Flora and Fauna of the\npast,--we find the evidence so fragmentary, that every conclusion is open\nto dispute. Two-thirds of the Earth's surface being covered by water; a\ngreat part of the exposed land being inaccessible to, or untravelled by,\nthe geologist; the greater part of the remainder having been scarcely more\nthan glanced at; and even the most familiar portions, as England, having\nbeen so imperfectly explored that a new series of strata has been added\nwithin these four years,--it is manifestly impossible for us to say with\nany certainty what creatures have, and what have not, existed at any\nparticular period. Considering the perishable nature of many of the lower\norganic forms, the metamorphosis of many sedimentary strata, and the gaps\nthat occur among the rest, we shall see further reason for distrusting our\ndeductions. On the one hand, the repeated discovery of vertebrate remains\nin strata previously supposed to contain none,--of reptiles where only fish\nwere thought to exist,--of mammals where it was believed there were no\ncreatures higher than reptiles,--renders it daily more manifest how small\nis the value of negative evidence.\n\nOn the other hand, the worthlessness of the assumption that we have\ndiscovered the earliest, or anything like the earliest, organic remains, is\nbecoming equally clear. That the oldest known sedimentary rocks have been\ngreatly changed by igneous action, and that still older ones have been\ntotally transformed by it, is becoming undeniable. And the fact that\nsedimentary strata earlier than any we know, have been melted up, being\nadmitted, it must also be admitted that we cannot say how far back in time\nthis destruction of sedimentary strata has been going on. Thus it is\nmanifest that the title, _Palaeozoic_, as applied to the earliest known\nfossiliferous strata, involves a _petitio principii_; and that, for aught\nwe know to the contrary, only the last few chapters of the Earth's\nbiological history may have come down to us. On neither side, therefore, is\nthe evidence conclusive. Nevertheless we cannot but think that, scanty as\nthey are, the facts, taken altogether, tend to show both that the more\nheterogeneous organisms have been evolved in the later geologic periods,\nand that Life in general has been more heterogeneously manifested as time\nhas advanced. Let us cite, in illustration, the one case of the\n_vertebrata_. The earliest known vertebrate remains are those of Fishes;\nand Fishes are the most homogeneous of the vertebrata. Later and more\nheterogeneous are Reptiles. Later still, and more heterogeneous still, are\nMammals and Birds. If it be said, as it may fairly be said, that the\nPalaeozoic deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not likely to contain\nthe remains of terrestrial vertebrata, which may nevertheless have existed\nat that era, we reply that we are merely pointing to the leading facts,\n_such as they are_.\n\nBut to avoid any such criticism, let us take the mammalian subdivision\nonly. The earliest known remains of mammals are those of small marsupials,\nwhich are the lowest of the mammalian type; while, conversely, the highest\nof the mammalian type--Man--is the most recent. The evidence that the\nvertebrate fauna, as a whole, has become more heterogeneous, is\nconsiderably stronger. To the argument that the vertebrate fauna of the\nPalaeozoic period, consisting, so far as we know, entirely of Fishes, was\nless heterogeneous than the modern vertebrate fauna, which includes\nReptiles, Birds, and Mammals, of multitudinous genera, it may be replied,\nas before, that estuary deposits of the Palaeozoic period, could we find\nthem, might contain other orders of vertebrata. But no such reply can be\nmade to the argument that whereas the marine vertebrata of the Palaeozoic\nperiod consisted entirely of cartilaginous fishes, the marine vertebrata of\nlater periods include numerous genera of osseous fishes; and that,\ntherefore, the later marine vertebrate faunas are more heterogeneous than\nthe oldest known one. Nor, again, can any such reply be made to the fact\nthat there are far more numerous orders and genera of mammalian remains in\nthe tertiary formations than in the secondary formations. Did we wish\nmerely to make out the best case, we might dwell upon the opinion of Dr.\nCarpenter, who says that \"the general facts of Palaeontology appear to\nsanction the belief, that _the same plan_ may be traced out in what may be\ncalled _the general life of the globe_, as in _the individual life_ of\nevery one of the forms of organized being which now people it.\" Or we might\nquote, as decisive, the judgment of Professor Owen, who holds that the\nearlier examples of each group of creatures severally departed less widely\nfrom archetypal generality than the later ones--were severally less unlike\nthe fundamental form common to the group as a whole; that is to\nsay--constituted a less heterogeneous group of creatures; and who further\nupholds the doctrine of a biological progression. But in deference to an\nauthority for whom we have the highest respect, who considers that the\nevidence at present obtained does not justify a verdict either way, we are\ncontent to leave the question open.\n\nWhether an advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is or is not\ndisplayed in the biological history of the globe, it is clearly enough\ndisplayed in the progress of the latest and most heterogeneous\ncreature--Man. It is alike true that, during the period in which the Earth\nhas been peopled, the human organism has grown more heterogeneous among the\ncivilized divisions of the species; and that the species, as a whole, has\nbeen growing more heterogeneous in virtue of the multiplication of races\nand the differentiation of these races from each other.\n\nIn proof of the first of these positions, we may cite the fact that, in the\nrelative development of the limbs, the civilized man departs more widely\nfrom the general type of the placental mammalia than do the lower human\nraces. While often possessing well-developed body and arms, the Papuan has\nextremely small legs: thus reminding us of the quadrumana, in which there\nis no great contrast in size between the hind and fore limbs. But in the\nEuropean, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has become very\nmarked--the fore and hind limbs are relatively more heterogeneous. Again,\nthe greater ratio which the cranial bones bear to the facial bones\nillustrates the same truth. Among the vertebrata in general, progress is\nmarked by an increasing heterogeneity in the vertebral column, and more\nespecially in the vertebrae constituting the skull: the higher forms being\ndistinguished by the relatively larger size of the bones which cover the\nbrain, and the relatively smaller size of those which form the jaw, &c.\nNow, this characteristic, which is stronger in Man than in any other\ncreature, is stronger in the European than in the savage. Moreover, judging\nfrom the greater extent and variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer\nthat the civilized man has also a more complex or heterogeneous nervous\nsystem than the uncivilized man: and indeed the fact is in part visible in\nthe increased ratio which his cerebrum bears to the subjacent ganglia.\n\nIf further elucidation be needed, we may find it in every nursery. The\ninfant European has sundry marked points of resemblance to the lower human\nraces; as in the flatness of the alae of the nose, the depression of its\nbridge, the divergence and forward opening of the nostrils, the form of the\nlips, the absence of a frontal sinus, the width between the eyes, the\nsmallness of the legs. Now, as the developmental process by which these\ntraits are turned into those of the adult European, is a continuation of\nthat change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous displayed during the\nprevious evolution of the embryo, which every physiologist will admit; it\nfollows that the parallel developmental process by which the like traits of\nthe barbarous races have been turned into those of the civilized races, has\nalso been a continuation of the change from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous. The truth of the second position--that Mankind, as a whole,\nhave become more heterogeneous--is so obvious as scarcely to need\nillustration. Every work on Ethnology, by its divisions and subdivisions of\nraces, bears testimony to it. Even were we to admit the hypothesis that\nMankind originated from several separate stocks, it would still remain\ntrue, that as, from each of these stocks, there have sprung many now widely\ndifferent tribes, which are proved by philological evidence to have had a\ncommon origin, the race as a whole is far less homogeneous than it once\nwas. Add to which, that we have, in the Anglo-Americans, an example of a\nnew variety arising within these few generations; and that, if we may trust\nto the description of observers, we are likely soon to have another such\nexample in Australia.\n\nOn passing from Humanity under its individual form, to Humanity as socially\nembodied, we find the general law still more variously exemplified. The\nchange from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is displayed equally in\nthe progress of civilization as a whole, and in the progress of every tribe\nor nation; and is still going on with increasing rapidity. As we see in\nexisting barbarous tribes, society in its first and lowest form is a\nhomogeneous aggregation of individuals having like powers and like\nfunctions: the only marked difference of function being that which\naccompanies difference of sex. Every man is warrior, hunter, fisherman,\ntool-maker, builder; every woman performs the same drudgeries; every family\nis self-sufficing, and save for purposes of aggression and defence, might\nas well live apart from the rest. Very early, however, in the process of\nsocial evolution, we find an incipient differentiation between the\ngoverning and the governed. Some kind of chieftainship seems coeval with\nthe first advance from the state of separate wandering families to that of\na nomadic tribe. The authority of the strongest makes itself felt among a\nbody of savages as in a herd of animals, or a posse of schoolboys. At\nfirst, however, it is indefinite, uncertain; is shared by others of\nscarcely inferior power; and is unaccompanied by any difference in\noccupation or style of living: the first ruler kills his own game, makes\nhis own weapons, builds his own hut, and economically considered, does not\ndiffer from others of his tribe. Gradually, as the tribe progresses, the\ncontrast between the governing and the governed grows more decided. Supreme\npower becomes hereditary in one family; the head of that family, ceasing to\nprovide for his own wants, is served by others; and he begins to assume the\nsole office of ruling.\n\nAt the same time there has been arising a co-ordinate species of\ngovernment--that of Religion. As all ancient records and traditions prove,\nthe earliest rulers are regarded as divine personages. The maxims and\ncommands they uttered during their lives are held sacred after their\ndeaths, and are enforced by their divinely-descended successors; who in\ntheir turns are promoted to the pantheon of the race, there to be\nworshipped and propitiated along with their predecessors: the most ancient\nof whom is the supreme god, and the rest subordinate gods. For a long time\nthese connate forms of government--civil and religious--continue closely\nassociated. For many generations the king continues to be the chief priest,\nand the priesthood to be members of the royal race. For many ages religious\nlaw continues to contain more or less of civil regulation, and civil law to\npossess more or less of religious sanction; and even among the most\nadvanced nations these two controlling agencies are by no means completely\ndifferentiated from each other.\n\nHaving a common root with these, and gradually diverging from them, we find\nyet another controlling agency--that of Manners or ceremonial usages. All\ntitles of honour are originally the names of the god-king; afterwards of\nGod and the king; still later of persons of high rank; and finally come,\nsome of them, to be used between man and man. All forms of complimentary\naddress were at first the expressions of submission from prisoners to their\nconqueror, or from subjects to their ruler, either human or\ndivine--expressions that were afterwards used to propitiate subordinate\nauthorities, and slowly descended into ordinary intercourse. All modes of\nsalutation were once obeisances made before the monarch and used in worship\nof him after his death. Presently others of the god-descended race were\nsimilarly saluted; and by degrees some of the salutations have become the\ndue of all.[A] Thus, no sooner does the originally homogeneous social mass\ndifferentiate into the governed and the governing parts, than this last\nexhibits an incipient differentiation into religious and secular--Church\nand State; while at the same time there begins to be differentiated from\nboth, that less definite species of government which rules our daily\nintercourse--a species of government which, as we may see in heralds'\ncolleges, in books of the peerage, in masters of ceremonies, is not without\na certain embodiment of its own. Each of these is itself subject to\nsuccessive differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as among\nourselves, a highly complex political organization of monarch, ministers,\nlords and commons, with their subordinate administrative departments,\ncourts of justice, revenue offices, &c., supplemented in the provinces by\nmunicipal governments, county governments, parish or union governments--all\nof them more or less elaborated. By its side there grows up a highly\ncomplex religious organization, with its various grades of officials, from\narchbishops down to sextons, its colleges, convocations, ecclesiastical\ncourts, &c.; to all which must be added the ever multiplying independent\nsects, each with its general and local authorities. And at the same time\nthere is developed a highly complex aggregation of customs, manners, and\ntemporary fashions, enforced by society at large, and serving to control\nthose minor transactions between man and man which are not regulated by\ncivil and religious law. Moreover it is to be observed that this ever\nincreasing heterogeneity in the governmental appliances of each nation, has\nbeen accompanied by an increasing heterogeneity in the governmental\nappliances of different nations; all of which are more or less unlike in\ntheir political systems and legislation, in their creeds and religious\ninstitutions, in their customs and ceremonial usages.\n\n  [A] For detailed proof of these assertions see essay on _Manners and\n      Fashion_.\n\nSimultaneously there has been going on a second differentiation of a more\nfamiliar kind; that, namely, by which the mass of the community has been\nsegregated into distinct classes and orders of workers. While the governing\npart has undergone the complex development above detailed, the governed\npart has undergone an equally complex development, which has resulted in\nthat minute division of labour characterizing advanced nations. It is\nneedless to trace out this progress from its first stages, up through the\ncaste divisions of the East and the incorporated guilds of Europe, to the\nelaborate producing and distributing organization existing among ourselves.\nPolitical economists have long since described the evolution which,\nbeginning with a tribe whose members severally perform the same actions\neach for himself, ends with a civilized community whose members severally\nperform different actions for each other; and they have further pointed out\nthe changes through which the solitary producer of any one commodity is\ntransformed into a combination of producers who, united under a master,\ntake separate parts in the manufacture of such commodity. But there are yet\nother and higher phases of this advance from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous in the industrial organization of society.\n\nLong after considerable progress has been made in the division of labour\namong different classes of workers, there is still little or no division of\nlabour among the widely separated parts of the community; the nation\ncontinues comparatively homogeneous in the respect that in each district\nthe same occupations are pursued. But when roads and other means of transit\nbecome numerous and good, the different districts begin to assume different\nfunctions, and to become mutually dependent. The calico manufacture locates\nitself in this county, the woollen-cloth manufacture in that; silks are\nproduced here, lace there; stockings in one place, shoes in another;\npottery, hardware, cutlery, come to have their special towns; and\nultimately every locality becomes more or less distinguished from the rest\nby the leading occupation carried on in it. Nay, more, this subdivision of\nfunctions shows itself not only among the different parts of the same\nnation, but among different nations. That exchange of commodities which\nfree-trade promises so greatly to increase, will ultimately have the effect\nof specializing, in a greater or less degree, the industry of each people.\nSo that beginning with a barbarous tribe, almost if not quite homogeneous\nin the functions of its members, the progress has been, and still is,\ntowards an economic aggregation of the whole human race; growing ever more\nheterogeneous in respect of the separate functions assumed by separate\nnations, the separate functions assumed by the local sections of each\nnation, the separate functions assumed by the many kinds of makers and\ntraders in each town, and the separate functions assumed by the workers\nunited in producing each commodity.\n\nNot only is the law thus clearly exemplified in the evolution of the social\norganism, but it is exemplified with equal clearness in the evolution of\nall products of human thought and action, whether concrete or abstract,\nreal or ideal. Let us take Language as our first illustration.\n\nThe lowest form of language is the exclamation, by which an entire idea is\nvaguely conveyed through a single sound; as among the lower animals. That\nhuman language ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so was strictly\nhomogeneous in respect of its parts of speech, we have no evidence. But\nthat language can be traced down to a form in which nouns and verbs are its\nonly elements, is an established fact. In the gradual multiplication of\nparts of speech out of these primary ones--in the differentiation of verbs\ninto active and passive, of nouns into abstract and concrete--in the rise\nof distinctions of mood, tense, person, of number and case--in the\nformation of auxiliary verbs, of adjectives, adverbs, pronouns,\nprepositions, articles--in the divergence of those orders, genera, species,\nand varieties of parts of speech by which civilized races express minute\nmodifications of meaning--we see a change from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous. And it may be remarked, in passing, that it is more\nespecially in virtue of having carried this subdivision of function to a\ngreater extent and completeness, that the English language is superior to\nall others.\n\nAnother aspect under which we may trace the development of language is the\ndifferentiation of words of allied meanings. Philology early disclosed the\ntruth that in all languages words may be grouped into families having a\ncommon ancestry. An aboriginal name applied indiscriminately to each of an\nextensive and ill-defined class of things or actions, presently undergoes\nmodifications by which the chief divisions of the class are expressed.\nThese several names springing from the primitive root, themselves become\nthe parents of other names still further modified. And by the aid of those\nsystematic modes which presently arise, of making derivations and forming\ncompound terms expressing still smaller distinctions, there is finally\ndeveloped a tribe of words so heterogeneous in sound and meaning, that to\nthe uninitiated it seems incredible that they should have had a common\norigin. Meanwhile from other roots there are being evolved other such\ntribes, until there results a language of some sixty thousand or more\nunlike words, signifying as many unlike objects, qualities, acts.\n\nYet another way in which language in general advances from the homogeneous\nto the heterogeneous, is in the multiplication of languages. Whether as Max\nMueller and Bunsen think, all languages have grown from one stock, or\nwhether, as some philologists say, they have grown from two or more stocks,\nit is clear that since large families of languages, as the Indo-European,\nare of one parentage, they have become distinct through a process of\ncontinuous divergence. The same diffusion over the Earth's surface which\nhas led to the differentiation of the race, has simultaneously led to a\ndifferentiation of their speech: a truth which we see further illustrated\nin each nation by the peculiarities of dialect found in several districts.\nThus the progress of Language conforms to the general law, alike in the\nevolution of languages, in the evolution of families of words, and in the\nevolution of parts of speech.\n\nOn passing from spoken to written language, we come upon several classes of\nfacts, all having similar implications. Written language is connate with\nPainting and Sculpture; and at first all three are appendages of\nArchitecture, and have a direct connection with the primary form of all\nGovernment--the theocratic. Merely noting by the way the fact that sundry\nwild races, as for example the Australians and the tribes of South Africa,\nare given to depicting personages and events upon the walls of caves, which\nare probably regarded as sacred places, let us pass to the case of the\nEgyptians. Among them, as also among the Assyrians, we find mural paintings\nused to decorate the temple of the god and the palace of the king (which\nwere, indeed, originally identical); and as such they were governmental\nappliances in the same sense that state-pageants and religious feasts were.\nFurther, they were governmental appliances in virtue of representing the\nworship of the god, the triumphs of the god-king, the submission of his\nsubjects, and the punishment of the rebellious. And yet again they were\ngovernmental, as being the products of an art reverenced by the people as a\nsacred mystery. From the habitual use of this pictorial representation\nthere naturally grew up the but slightly-modified practice of\npicture-writing--a practice which was found still extant among the Mexicans\nat the time they were discovered. By abbreviations analogous to those still\ngoing on in our own written and spoken language, the most familiar of these\npictured figures were successively simplified; and ultimately there grew up\na system of symbols, most of which had but a distant resemblance to the\nthings for which they stood. The inference that the hieroglyphics of the\nEgyptians were thus produced, is confirmed by the fact that the\npicture-writing of the Mexicans was found to have given birth to a like\nfamily of ideographic forms; and, among them, as among the Egyptians, these\nhad been partially differentiated into the _kuriological_ or imitative, and\nthe _tropical_ or symbolic: which were, however, used together in the same\nrecord. In Egypt, written language underwent a further differentiation:\nwhence resulted the _hieratic_ and the _epistolographic_ or _enchorial_:\nboth of which are derived from the original hieroglyphic. At the same time\nwe find that for the expression of proper names which could not be\notherwise conveyed, phonetic symbols were employed; and though it is\nalleged that the Egyptians never actually achieved complete alphabetic\nwriting, yet it can scarcely be doubted that these phonetic symbols\noccasionally used in aid of their ideographic ones, were the germs out of\nwhich alphabetic writing grew. Once having become separate from\nhieroglyphics, alphabetic writing itself underwent numerous\ndifferentiations--multiplied alphabets were produced; between most of\nwhich, however, more or less connection can still be traced. And in each\ncivilized nation there has now grown up, for the representation of one set\nof sounds, several sets of written signs used for distinct purposes.\nFinally, through a yet more important differentiation came printing; which,\nuniform in kind as it was at first, has since become multiform.\n\nWhile written language was passing through its earlier stages of\ndevelopment, the mural decoration which formed its root was being\ndifferentiated into Painting and Sculpture. The gods, kings, men, and\nanimals represented, were originally marked by indented outlines and\ncoloured. In most cases these outlines were of such depth, and the object\nthey circumscribed so far rounded and marked out in its leading parts, as\nto form a species of work intermediate between intaglio and bas-relief. In\nother cases we see an advance upon this: the raised spaces between the\nfigures being chiselled off, and the figures themselves appropriately\ntinted, a painted bas-relief was produced. The restored Assyrian\narchitecture at Sydenham exhibits this style of art carried to greater\nperfection--the persons and things represented, though still barbarously\ncoloured, are carved out with more truth and in greater detail: and in the\nwinged lions and bulls used for the angles of gateways, we may see a\nconsiderable advance towards a completely sculptured figure; which,\nnevertheless, is still coloured, and still forms part of the building. But\nwhile in Assyria the production of a statue proper seems to have been\nlittle, if at all, attempted, we may trace in Egyptian art the gradual\nseparation of the sculptured figure from the wall. A walk through the\ncollection in the British Museum will clearly show this; while it will at\nthe same time afford an opportunity of observing the evident traces which\nthe independent statues bear of their derivation from bas-relief: seeing\nthat nearly all of them not only display that union of the limbs with the\nbody which is the characteristic of bas-relief, but have the back of the\nstatue united from head to foot with a block which stands in place of the\noriginal wall. Greece repeated the leading stages of this progress. As in\nEgypt and Assyria, these twin arts were at first united with each other and\nwith their parent, Architecture, and were the aids of Religion and\nGovernment. On the friezes of Greek temples, we see coloured bas-reliefs\nrepresenting sacrifices, battles, processions, games--all in some sort\nreligious. On the pediments we see painted sculptures more or less united\nwith the tympanum, and having for subjects the triumphs of gods or heroes.\nEven when we come to statues that are definitely separated from the\nbuildings to which they pertain, we still find them coloured; and only in\nthe later periods of Greek civilization does the differentiation of\nsculpture from painting appear to have become complete.\n\nIn Christian art we may clearly trace a parallel re-genesis. All early\npaintings and sculptures throughout Europe were religious in\nsubject--represented Christs, crucifixions, virgins, holy families,\napostles, saints. They formed integral parts of church architecture, and\nwere among the means of exciting worship; as in Roman Catholic countries\nthey still are. Moreover, the early sculptures of Christ on the cross, of\nvirgins, of saints, were coloured: and it needs but to call to mind the\npainted madonnas and crucifixes still abundant in continental churches and\nhighways, to perceive the significant fact that painting and sculpture\ncontinue in closest connection with each other where they continue in\nclosest connection with their parent. Even when Christian sculpture was\npretty clearly differentiated from painting, it was still religious and\ngovernmental in its subjects--was used for tombs in churches and statues of\nkings: while, at the same time, painting, where not purely ecclesiastical,\nwas applied to the decoration of palaces, and besides representing royal\npersonages, was almost wholly devoted to sacred legends. Only in quite\nrecent times have painting and sculpture become entirely secular arts. Only\nwithin these few centuries has painting been divided into historical,\nlandscape, marine, architectural, genre, animal, still-life, &c., and\nsculpture grown heterogeneous in respect of the variety of real and ideal\nsubjects with which it occupies itself.\n\nStrange as it seems then, we find it no less true, that all forms of\nwritten language, of painting, and of sculpture, have a common root in the\npolitico-religious decorations of ancient temples and palaces. Little\nresemblance as they now have, the bust that stands on the console, the\nlandscape that hangs against the wall, and the copy of the _Times_ lying\nupon the table, are remotely akin; not only in nature, but by extraction.\nThe brazen face of the knocker which the postman has just lifted, is\nrelated not only to the woodcuts of the _Illustrated London News_ which he\nis delivering, but to the characters of the _billet-doux_ which accompanies\nit. Between the painted window, the prayer-book on which its light falls,\nand the adjacent monument, there is consanguinity. The effigies on our\ncoins, the signs over shops, the figures that fill every ledger, the coats\nof arms outside the carriage panel, and the placards inside the omnibus,\nare, in common with dolls, blue-books, paper-hangings, lineally descended\nfrom the rude sculpture-paintings in which the Egyptians represented the\ntriumphs and worship of their god-kings. Perhaps no example can be given\nwhich more vividly illustrates the multiplicity and heterogeneity of the\nproducts that in course of time may arise by successive differentiations\nfrom a common stock.\n\nBefore passing to other classes of facts, it should be observed that the\nevolution of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous is displayed not only\nin the separation of Painting and Sculpture from Architecture and from each\nother, and in the greater variety of subjects they embody, but it is\nfurther shown in the structure of each work. A modern picture or statue is\nof far more heterogeneous nature than an ancient one. An Egyptian\nsculpture-fresco represents all its figures as on one plane--that is, at\nthe same distance from the eye; and so is less heterogeneous than a\npainting that represents them as at various distances from the eye. It\nexhibits all objects as exposed to the same degree of light; and so is less\nheterogeneous than a painting which exhibits different objects and\ndifferent parts of each object as in different degrees of light. It uses\nscarcely any but the primary colours, and these in their full intensity;\nand so is less heterogeneous than a painting which, introducing the primary\ncolours but sparingly, employs an endless variety of intermediate tints,\neach of heterogeneous composition, and differing from the rest not only in\nquality but in intensity. Moreover, we see in these earliest works a great\nuniformity of conception. The same arrangement of figures is perpetually\nreproduced--the same actions, attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the modes\nof representation were so fixed that it was sacrilege to introduce a\nnovelty; and indeed it could have been only in consequence of a fixed mode\nof representation that a system of hieroglyphics became possible. The\nAssyrian bas-reliefs display parallel characters. Deities, kings,\nattendants, winged figures and animals, are severally depicted in like\npositions, holding like implements, doing like things, and with like\nexpression or non-expression of face. If a palm-grove is introduced, all\nthe trees are of the same height, have the same number of leaves, and are\nequidistant. When water is imitated, each wave is a counterpart of the\nrest; and the fish, almost always of one kind, are evenly distributed over\nthe surface. The beards of the kings, the gods, and the winged figures, are\neverywhere similar: as are the manes of the lions, and equally so those of\nthe horses. Hair is represented throughout by one form of curl. The king's\nbeard is quite architecturally built up of compound tiers of uniform curls,\nalternating with twisted tiers placed in a transverse direction, and\narranged with perfect regularity; and the terminal tufts of the bulls'\ntails are represented in exactly the same manner. Without tracing out\nanalogous facts in early Christian art, in which, though less striking,\nthey are still visible, the advance in heterogeneity will be sufficiently\nmanifest on remembering that in the pictures of our own day the composition\nis endlessly varied; the attitudes, faces, expressions, unlike; the\nsubordinate objects different in size, form, position, texture; and more or\nless of contrast even in the smallest details. Or, if we compare an\nEgyptian statue, seated bolt upright on a block, with hands on knees,\nfingers outspread and parallel, eyes looking straight forward, and the two\nsides perfectly symmetrical in every particular, with a statue of the\nadvanced Greek or the modern school, which is asymmetrical in respect of\nthe position of the head, the body, the limbs, the arrangement of the hair,\ndress, appendages, and in its relations to neighbouring objects, we shall\nsee the change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous clearly\nmanifested.\n\nIn the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of Poetry, Music and\nDancing, we have another series of illustrations. Rhythm in speech, rhythm\nin sound, and rhythm in motion, were in the beginning parts of the same\nthing, and have only in process of time become separate things. Among\nvarious existing barbarous tribes we find them still united. The dances of\nsavages are accompanied by some kind of monotonous chant, the clapping of\nhands, the striking of rude instruments: there are measured movements,\nmeasured words, and measured tones; and the whole ceremony, usually having\nreference to war or sacrifice, is of governmental character. In the early\nrecords of the historic races we similarly find these three forms of\nmetrical action united in religious festivals. In the Hebrew writings we\nread that the triumphal ode composed by Moses on the defeat of the\nEgyptians, was sung to an accompaniment of dancing and timbrels. The\nIsraelites danced and sang \"at the inauguration of the golden calf. And as\nit is generally agreed that this representation of the Deity was borrowed\nfrom the mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the dancing was copied from\nthat of the Egyptians on those occasions.\" There was an annual dance in\nShiloh on the sacred festival; and David danced before the ark. Again, in\nGreece the like relation is everywhere seen: the original type being there,\nas probably in other cases, a simultaneous chanting and mimetic\nrepresentation of the life and adventures of the god. The Spartan dances\nwere accompanied by hymns and songs; and in general the Greeks had \"no\nfestivals or religious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs and\ndances\"--both of them being forms of worship used before altars. Among the\nRomans, too, there were sacred dances: the Salian and Lupercalian being\nnamed as of that kind. And even in Christian countries, as at Limoges, in\ncomparatively recent times, the people have danced in the choir in honour\nof a saint. The incipient separation of these once united arts from each\nother and from religion, was early visible in Greece. Probably diverging\nfrom dances partly religious, partly warlike, as the Corybantian, came the\nwar dances proper, of which there were various kinds; and from these\nresulted secular dances. Meanwhile Music and Poetry, though still united,\ncame to have an existence separate from dancing. The aboriginal Greek\npoems, religious in subject, were not recited, but chanted; and though at\nfirst the chant of the poet was accompanied by the dance of the chorus, it\nultimately grew into independence. Later still, when the poem had been\ndifferentiated into epic and lyric--when it became the custom to sing the\nlyric and recite the epic--poetry proper was born. As during the same\nperiod musical instruments were being multiplied, we may presume that music\ncame to have an existence apart from words. And both of them were beginning\nto assume other forms besides the religious. Facts, having like\nimplications might be cited from the histories of later times and peoples:\nas the practices of our own early minstrels, who sang to the harp heroic\nnarratives versified by themselves to music of their own composition: thus\nuniting the now separate offices of poet, composer, vocalist, and\ninstrumentalist. But, without further illustration, the common origin and\ngradual differentiation of Dancing, Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently\nmanifest.\n\nThe advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is displayed not only\nin the separation of these arts from each other and from religion, but also\nin the multiplied differentiations which each of them afterwards undergoes.\nNot to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing that have, in course of\ntime, come into use; and not to occupy space in detailing the progress of\npoetry, as seen in the development of the various forms of metre, of rhyme,\nand of general organization; let us confine our attention to music as a\ntype of the group. As argued by Dr. Burney, and as implied by the customs\nof still extant barbarous races, the first musical instruments were,\nwithout doubt, percussive--sticks, calabashes, tom-toms--and were used\nsimply to mark the time of the dance; and in this constant repetition of\nthe same sound, we see music in its most homogeneous form.\n\nThe Egyptians had a lyre with three strings. The early lyre of the Greeks\nhad four, constituting their tetrachord. In course of some centuries lyres\nof seven and eight strings were employed. And, by the expiration of a\nthousand years, they had advanced to their \"great system\" of the double\noctave. Through all which changes there of course arose a greater\nheterogeneity of melody. Simultaneously there came into use the different\nmodes--Dorian, Ionian, Phrygian, AEolian, and Lydian--answering to our keys;\nand of these there were ultimately fifteen. As yet, however, there was but\nlittle heterogeneity in the time of their music.\n\nInstrumental music during this period being merely the accompaniment of\nvocal music, and vocal music being completely subordinated to words, the\nsinger being also the poet, chanting his own compositions and making the\nlengths of his notes agree with the feet of his verses,--there unavoidably\narose a tiresome uniformity of measure, which, as Dr. Burney says, \"no\nresources of melody could disguise.\" Lacking the complex rhythm obtained by\nour equal bars and unequal notes the only rhythm was that produced by the\nquantity of the syllables and was of necessity comparatively monotonous.\nAnd further, it may be observed that the chant thus resulting, being like\nrecitative, was much less clearly differentiated from ordinary speech than\nis our modern song.\n\nNevertheless, in virtue of the extended range of notes in use, the variety\nof modes, the occasional variations of time consequent on changes of metre,\nand the multiplication of instruments, music had, towards the close of\nGreek civilization, attained to considerable heterogeneity--not indeed as\ncompared with our music, but as compared with that which preceded it. As\nyet, however, there existed nothing but melody: harmony was unknown. It was\nnot until Christian church-music had reached some development, that music\nin parts was evolved; and then it came into existence through a very\nunobtrusive differentiation. Difficult as it may be to conceive _a priori_\nhow the advance from melody to harmony could take place without a sudden\nleap, it is none the less true that it did so. The circumstance which\nprepared the way for it was the employment of two choirs singing\nalternately the same air. Afterwards it became the practice--very possibly\nfirst suggested by a mistake--for the second choir to commence before the\nfirst had ceased; thus producing a fugue.\n\nWith the simple airs then in use, a partially harmonious fugue might not\nimprobably thus result: and a very partially harmonious fugue satisfied the\nears of that age, as we know from still preserved examples. The idea having\nonce been given, the composing of airs productive of fugal harmony would\nnaturally grow up; as in some way it _did_ grow up out of this alternate\nchoir-singing. And from the fugue to concerted music of two, three, four,\nand more parts, the transition was easy. Without pointing out in detail the\nincreasing complexity that resulted from introducing notes of various\nlengths, from the multiplication of keys, from the use of accidentals, from\nvarieties of time, and so forth, it needs but to contrast music as it is,\nwith music as it was, to see how immense is the increase of heterogeneity.\nWe see this if, looking at music in its _ensemble_, we enumerate its many\ndifferent genera and species--if we consider the divisions into vocal,\ninstrumental, and mixed; and their subdivisions into music for different\nvoices and different instruments--if we observe the many forms of sacred\nmusic, from the simple hymn, the chant, the canon, motet, anthem, &c., up\nto the oratorio; and the still more numerous forms of secular music, from\nthe ballad up to the serenata, from the instrumental solo up to the\nsymphony.\n\nAgain, the same truth is seen on comparing any one sample of aboriginal\nmusic with a sample of modern music--even an ordinary song for the piano;\nwhich we find to be relatively highly heterogeneous, not only in respect of\nthe varieties in the pitch and in the length of the notes, the number of\ndifferent notes sounding at the same instant in company with the voice, and\nthe variations of strength with which they are sounded and sung, but in\nrespect of the changes of key, the changes of time, the changes of _timbre_\nof the voice, and the many other modifications of expression. While between\nthe old monotonous dance-chant and a grand opera of our own day, with its\nendless orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the contrast in\nheterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely credible that the one\nshould have been the ancestor of the other.\n\nWere they needed, many further illustrations might be cited. Going back to\nthe early time when the deeds of the god-king, chanted and mimetically\nrepresented in dances round his altar, were further narrated in\npicture-writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so constituted a\nrude literature, we might trace the development of Literature through\nphases in which, as in the Hebrew Scriptures, it presents in one work\ntheology, cosmogony, history, biography, civil law, ethics, poetry; through\nother phases in which, as in the Iliad, the religious, martial, historical,\nthe epic, dramatic, and lyric elements are similarly commingled; down to\nits present heterogeneous development, in which its divisions and\nsubdivisions are so numerous and varied as to defy complete classification.\nOr we might trace out the evolution of Science; beginning with the era in\nwhich it was not yet differentiated from Art, and was, in union with Art,\nthe handmaid of Religion; passing through the era in which the sciences\nwere so few and rudimentary, as to be simultaneously cultivated by the same\nphilosophers; and ending with the era in which the genera and species are\nso numerous that few can enumerate them, and no one can adequately grasp\neven one genus. Or we might do the like with Architecture, with the Drama,\nwith Dress.\n\nBut doubtless the reader is already weary of illustrations; and our promise\nhas been amply fulfilled. We believe we have shown beyond question, that\nthat which the German physiologists have found to be the law of organic\ndevelopment, is the law of all development. The advance from the simple to\nthe complex, through a process of successive differentiations, is seen\nalike in the earliest changes of the Universe to which we can reason our\nway back; and in the earliest changes which we can inductively establish;\nit is seen in the geologic and climatic evolution of the Earth, and of\nevery single organism on its surface; it is seen in the evolution of\nHumanity, whether contemplated in the civilized individual, or in the\naggregation of races; it is seen in the evolution of Society in respect\nalike of its political, its religious, and its economical organization; and\nit is seen in the evolution of all those endless concrete and abstract\nproducts of human activity which constitute the environment of our daily\nlife. From the remotest past which Science can fathom, up to the novelties\nof yesterday, that in which Progress essentially consists, is the\ntransformation of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now, from this uniformity of procedure, may we not infer some\nfundamental necessity whence it results? May we not rationally seek for\nsome all-pervading principle which determines this all-pervading process of\nthings? Does not the universality of the _law_ imply a universal _cause_?\n\nThat we can fathom such cause, noumenally considered, is not to be\nsupposed. To do this would be to solve that ultimate mystery which must\never transcend human intelligence. But it still may be possible for us to\nreduce the law of all Progress, above established, from the condition of an\nempirical generalization, to the condition of a rational generalization.\nJust as it was possible to interpret Kepler's laws as necessary\nconsequences of the law of gravitation; so it may be possible to interpret\nthis law of Progress, in its multiform manifestations, as the necessary\nconsequence of some similarly universal principle. As gravitation was\nassignable as the _cause_ of each of the groups of phenomena which Kepler\nformulated; so may some equally simple attribute of things be assignable as\nthe cause of each of the groups of phenomena formulated in the foregoing\npages. We may be able to affiliate all these varied and complex evolutions\nof the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, upon certain simple facts of\nimmediate experience, which, in virtue of endless repetition, we regard as\nnecessary.\n\nThe probability of a common cause, and the possibility of formulating it,\nbeing granted, it will be well, before going further, to consider what must\nbe the general characteristics of such cause, and in what direction we\nought to look for it. We can with certainty predict that it has a high\ndegree of generality; seeing that it is common to such infinitely varied\nphenomena: just in proportion to the universality of its application must\nbe the abstractness of its character. We need not expect to see in it an\nobvious solution of this or that form of Progress; because it equally\nrefers to forms of Progress bearing little apparent resemblance to them:\nits association with multiform orders of facts, involves its dissociation\nfrom any particular order of facts. Being that which determines Progress of\nevery kind--astronomic, geologic, organic, ethnologic, social, economic,\nartistic, &c.--it must be concerned with some fundamental attribute\npossessed in common by these; and must be expressible in terms of this\nfundamental attribute. The only obvious respect in which all kinds of\nProgress are alike, is, that they are modes of _change_; and hence, in some\ncharacteristic of changes in general, the desired solution will probably be\nfound. We may suspect _a priori_ that in some law of change lies the\nexplanation of this universal transformation of the homogeneous into the\nheterogeneous.\n\nThus much premised, we pass at once to the statement of the law, which is\nthis:--_Every active force produces more than one change--every cause\nproduces more than one effect._\n\nBefore this law can be duly comprehended, a few examples must be looked at.\nWhen one body is struck against another, that which we usually regard as\nthe effect, is a change of position or motion in one or both bodies. But a\nmoment's thought shows us that this is a careless and very incomplete view\nof the matter. Besides the visible mechanical result, sound is produced;\nor, to speak accurately, a vibration in one or both bodies, and in the\nsurrounding air: and under some circumstances we call this the effect.\nMoreover, the air has not only been made to vibrate, but has had sundry\ncurrents caused in it by the transit of the bodies. Further, there is a\ndisarrangement of the particles of the two bodies in the neighbourhood of\ntheir point of collision; amounting in some cases to a visible\ncondensation. Yet more, this condensation is accompanied by the\ndisengagement of heat. In some cases a spark--that is, light--results, from\nthe incandescence of a portion struck off; and sometimes this incandescence\nis associated with chemical combination.\n\nThus, by the original mechanical force expended in the collision, at least\nfive, and often more, different kinds of changes have been produced. Take,\nagain, the lighting of a candle. Primarily this is a chemical change\nconsequent on a rise of temperature. The process of combination having once\nbeen set going by extraneous heat, there is a continued formation of\ncarbonic acid, water, &c.--in itself a result more complex than the\nextraneous heat that first caused it. But accompanying this process of\ncombination there is a production of heat; there is a production of light;\nthere is an ascending column of hot gases generated; there are currents\nestablished in the surrounding air. Moreover, the decomposition of one\nforce into many forces does not end here: each of the several changes\nproduced becomes the parent of further changes. The carbonic acid given off\nwill by and by combine with some base; or under the influence of sunshine\ngive up its carbon to the leaf of a plant. The water will modify the\nhygrometric state of the air around; or, if the current of hot gases\ncontaining it come against a cold body, will be condensed: altering the\ntemperature, and perhaps the chemical state, of the surface it covers. The\nheat given out melts the subjacent tallow, and expands whatever it warms.\nThe light, falling on various substances, calls forth from them reactions\nby which it is modified; and so divers colours are produced. Similarly even\nwith these secondary actions, which may be traced out into ever-multiplying\nramifications, until they become too minute to be appreciated. And thus it\nis with all changes whatever. No case can be named in which an active force\ndoes not evolve forces of several kinds, and each of these, other groups of\nforces. Universally the effect is more complex than the cause.\n\nDoubtless the reader already foresees the course of our argument. This\nmultiplication of results, which is displayed in every event of to-day, has\nbeen going on from the beginning; and is true of the grandest phenomena of\nthe universe as of the most insignificant. From the law that every active\nforce produces more than one change, it is an inevitable corollary that\nthrough all time there has been an ever-growing complication of things.\nStarting with the ultimate fact that every cause produces more than one\neffect, we may readily see that throughout creation there must have gone\non, and must still go on, a never-ceasing transformation of the homogeneous\ninto the heterogeneous. But let us trace out this truth in detail.[B]\n\n  [B] A correlative truth which ought also to be taken into account\n      (that the state of homogeneity is one of unstable equilibrium),\n      but which it would greatly encumber the argument to exemplify in\n      connection with the above, will be found developed in the essay\n      on _Transcendental Physiology_.\n\nWithout committing ourselves to it as more than a speculation, though a\nhighly probable one, let us again commence with the evolution of the solar\nsystem out of a nebulous medium.[C] From the mutual attraction of the atoms\nof a diffused mass whose form is unsymmetrical, there results not only\ncondensation but rotation: gravitation simultaneously generates both the\ncentripetal and the centrifugal forces. While the condensation and the rate\nof rotation are progressively increasing, the approach of the atoms\nnecessarily generates a progressively increasing temperature. As this\ntemperature rises, light begins to be evolved; and ultimately there results\na revolving sphere of fluid matter radiating intense heat and light--a sun.\n\n  [C] The idea that the Nebular Hypothesis has been disproved because\n      what were thought to be existing nebulae have been resolved into\n      clusters of stars is almost beneath notice. _A priori_ it was\n      highly improbable, if not impossible, that nebulous masses should\n      still remain uncondensed, while others have been condensed\n      millions of years ago.\n\nThere are good reasons for believing that, in consequence of the high\ntangential velocity, and consequent centrifugal force, acquired by the\nouter parts of the condensing nebulous mass, there must be a periodical\ndetachment of rotating rings; and that, from the breaking up of these\nnebulous rings, there must arise masses which in the course of their\ncondensation repeat the actions of the parent mass, and so produce planets\nand their satellites--an inference strongly supported by the still extant\nrings of Saturn.\n\nShould it hereafter be satisfactorily shown that planets and satellites\nwere thus generated, a striking illustration will be afforded of the highly\nheterogeneous effects produced by the primary homogeneous cause; but it\nwill serve our present purpose to point to the fact that from the mutual\nattraction of the particles of an irregular nebulous mass there result\ncondensation, rotation, heat, and light.\n\nIt follows as a corollary from the Nebular Hypothesis, that the Earth must\nat first have been incandescent; and whether the Nebular Hypothesis be true\nor not, this original incandescence of the Earth is now inductively\nestablished--or, if not established, at least rendered so highly probable\nthat it is a generally admitted geological doctrine. Let us look first at\nthe astronomical attributes of this once molten globe. From its rotation\nthere result the oblateness of its form, the alternations of day and night,\nand (under the influence of the moon) the tides, aqueous and atmospheric.\nFrom the inclination of its axis, there result the precession of the\nequinoxes and the many differences of the seasons, both simultaneous and\nsuccessive, that pervade its surface. Thus the multiplication of effects is\nobvious. Several of the differentiations due to the gradual cooling of the\nEarth have been already noticed--as the formation of a crust, the\nsolidification of sublimed elements, the precipitation of water, &c.,--and\nwe here again refer to them merely to point out that they are simultaneous\neffects of the one cause, diminishing heat.\n\nLet us now, however, observe the multiplied changes afterwards arising from\nthe continuance of this one cause. The cooling of the Earth involves its\ncontraction. Hence the solid crust first formed is presently too large for\nthe shrinking nucleus; and as it cannot support itself, inevitably follows\nthe nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot sink down into contact with a\nsmaller internal spheroid, without disruption; it must run into wrinkles as\nthe rind of an apple does when the bulk of its interior decreases from\nevaporation. As the cooling progresses and the envelope thickens, the\nridges consequent on these contractions must become greater, rising\nultimately into hills and mountains; and the later systems of mountains\nthus produced must not only be higher, as we find them to be, but they must\nbe longer, as we also find them to be. Thus, leaving out of view other\nmodifying forces, we see what immense heterogeneity of surface has arisen\nfrom the one cause, loss of heat--a heterogeneity which the telescope shows\nus to be paralleled on the face of the moon, where aqueous and atmospheric\nagencies have been absent.\n\nBut we have yet to notice another kind of heterogeneity of surface\nsimilarly and simultaneously caused. While the Earth's crust was still\nthin, the ridges produced by its contraction must not only have been small,\nbut the spaces between these ridges must have rested with great evenness\nupon the subjacent liquid spheroid; and the water in those arctic and\nantarctic regions in which it first condensed, must have been evenly\ndistributed. But as fast as the crust grew thicker and gained corresponding\nstrength, the lines of fracture from time to time caused in it, must have\noccurred at greater distances apart; the intermediate surfaces must have\nfollowed the contracting nucleus with less uniformity; and there must have\nresulted larger areas of land and water. If any one, after wrapping up an\norange in wet tissue paper, and observing not only how small are the\nwrinkles, but how evenly the intervening spaces lie upon the surface of the\norange, will then wrap it up in thick cartridge-paper, and note both the\ngreater height of the ridges and the much larger spaces throughout which\nthe paper does not touch the orange, he will realize the fact, that as the\nEarth's solid envelope grew thicker, the areas of elevation and depression\nmust have become greater. In place of islands more or less homogeneously\nscattered over an all-embracing sea, there must have gradually arisen\nheterogeneous arrangements of continent and ocean, such as we now know.\n\nOnce more, this double change in the extent and in the elevation of the\nlands, involved yet another species of heterogeneity, that of coast-line. A\ntolerably even surface raised out of the ocean, must have a simple, regular\nsea-margin; but a surface varied by table-lands and intersected by\nmountain-chains must, when raised out of the ocean, have an outline\nextremely irregular both in its leading features and in its details. Thus\nendless is the accumulation of geological and geographical results slowly\nbrought about by this one cause--the contraction of the Earth.\n\nWhen we pass from the agency which geologists term igneous, to aqueous and\natmospheric agencies, we see the like ever-growing complications of\neffects. The denuding actions of air and water have, from the beginning,\nbeen modifying every exposed surface; everywhere causing many different\nchanges. Oxidation, heat, wind, frost, rain, glaciers, rivers, tides,\nwaves, have been unceasingly producing disintegration; varying in kind and\namount according to local circumstances. Acting upon a tract of granite,\nthey here work scarcely an appreciable effect; there cause exfoliations of\nthe surface, and a resulting heap of _debris_ and boulders; and elsewhere,\nafter decomposing the feldspar into a white clay, carry away this and the\naccompanying quartz and mica, and deposits them in separate beds,\nfluviatile and marine. When the exposed land consists of several unlike\nformations, sedimentary and igneous, the denudation produces changes\nproportionably more heterogeneous. The formations being disintegrable in\ndifferent degrees, there follows an increased irregularity of surface. The\nareas drained by different rivers being differently constituted, these\nrivers carry down to the sea different combinations of ingredients; and so\nsundry new strata of distinct composition are formed.\n\nAnd here indeed we may see very simply illustrated, the truth, which we\nshall presently have to trace out in more involved cases, that in\nproportion to the heterogeneity of the object or objects on which any force\nexpends itself, is the heterogeneity of the results. A continent of complex\nstructure, exposing many strata irregularly distributed, raised to various\nlevels, tilted up at all angles, must, under the same denuding agencies,\ngive origin to immensely multiplied results; each district must be\ndifferently modified; each river must carry down a different kind of\ndetritus; each deposit must be differently distributed by the entangled\ncurrents, tidal and other, which wash the contorted shores; and this\nmultiplication of results must manifestly be greatest where the complexity\nof the surface is greatest.\n\nIt is out of the question here to trace in detail the genesis of those\nendless complications described by Geology and Physical Geography: else we\nmight show how the general truth, that every active force produces more\nthan one change, is exemplified in the highly involved flow of the tides,\nin the ocean currents, in the winds, in the distribution of rain, in the\ndistribution of heat, and so forth. But not to dwell upon these, let us,\nfor the fuller elucidation of this truth in relation to the inorganic\nworld, consider what would be the consequences of some extensive cosmical\nrevolution--say the subsidence of Central America.\n\nThe immediate results of the disturbance would themselves be sufficiently\ncomplex. Besides the numberless dislocations of strata, the ejections of\nigneous matter, the propagation of earthquake vibrations thousands of miles\naround, the loud explosions, and the escape of gases; there would be the\nrush of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to supply the vacant space, the\nsubsequent recoil of enormous waves, which would traverse both these oceans\nand produce myriads of changes along their shores, the corresponding\natmospheric waves complicated by the currents surrounding each volcanic\nvent, and the electrical discharges with which such disturbances are\naccompanied. But these temporary effects would be insignificant compared\nwith the permanent ones. The complex currents of the Atlantic and Pacific\nwould be altered in direction and amount. The distribution of heat achieved\nby these ocean currents would be different from what it is. The arrangement\nof the isothermal lines, not even on the neighbouring continents, but even\nthroughout Europe, would be changed. The tides would flow differently from\nwhat they do now. There would be more or less modification of the winds in\ntheir periods, strengths, directions, qualities. Rain would fall scarcely\nanywhere at the same times and in the same quantities as at present. In\nshort, the meteorological conditions thousands of miles off, on all sides,\nwould be more or less revolutionized.\n\nThus, without taking into account the infinitude of modifications which\nthese changes of climate would produce upon the flora and fauna, both of\nland and sea, the reader will see the immense heterogeneity of the results\nwrought out by one force, when that force expends itself upon a previously\ncomplicated area; and he will readily draw the corollary that from the\nbeginning the complication has advanced at an increasing rate.\n\nBefore going on to show how organic progress also depends upon the\nuniversal law that every force produces more than one change, we have to\nnotice the manifestation of this law in yet another species of inorganic\nprogress--namely, chemical. The same general causes that have wrought out\nthe heterogeneity of the Earth, physically considered, have simultaneously\nwrought out its chemical heterogeneity. Without dwelling upon the general\nfact that the forces which have been increasing the variety and complexity\nof geological formations, have, at the same time, been bringing into\ncontact elements not previously exposed to each other under conditions\nfavourable to union, and so have been adding to the number of chemical\ncompounds, let us pass to the more important complications that have\nresulted from the cooling of the Earth.\n\nThere is every reason to believe that at an extreme heat the elements\ncannot combine. Even under such heat as can be artificially produced, some\nvery strong affinities yield, as for instance, that of oxygen for hydrogen;\nand the great majority of chemical compounds are decomposed at much lower\ntemperatures. But without insisting upon the highly probable inference,\nthat when the Earth was in its first state of incandescence there were no\nchemical combinations at all, it will suffice our purpose to point to the\nunquestionable fact that the compounds that can exist at the highest\ntemperatures, and which must, therefore, have been the first that were\nformed as the Earth cooled, are those of the simplest constitutions. The\nprotoxides--including under that head the alkalies, earths, &c.--are, as a\nclass, the most stable compounds we know: most of them resisting\ndecomposition by any heat we can generate. These, consisting severally of\none atom of each component element, are combinations of the simplest\norder--are but one degree less homogeneous than the elements themselves.\nMore heterogeneous than these, less stable, and therefore later in the\nEarth's history, are the deutoxides, tritoxides, peroxides, &c.; in which\ntwo, three, four, or more atoms of oxygen are united with one atom of metal\nor other element. Higher than these in heterogeneity are the hydrates; in\nwhich an oxide of hydrogen, united with an oxide of some other element,\nforms a substance whose atoms severally contain at least four ultimate\natoms of three different kinds. Yet more heterogeneous and less stable\nstill are the salts; which present us with compound atoms each made up of\nfive, six, seven, eight, ten, twelve, or more atoms, of three, if not more,\nkinds. Then there are the hydrated salts, of a yet greater heterogeneity,\nwhich undergo partial decomposition at much lower temperatures. After them\ncome the further-complicated supersalts and double salts, having a\nstability again decreased; and so throughout. Without entering into\nqualifications for which we lack space, we believe no chemist will deny it\nto be a general law of these inorganic combinations that, _other things\nequal_, the stability decreases as the complexity increases.\n\nAnd then when we pass to the compounds of organic chemistry, we find this\ngeneral law still further exemplified: we find much greater complexity and\nmuch less stability. An atom of albumen, for instance, consists of 482\nultimate atoms of five different kinds. Fibrine, still more intricate in\nconstitution, contains in each atom, 298 atoms of carbon, 40 of nitrogen, 2\nof sulphur, 228 of hydrogen, and 92 of oxygen--in all, 660 atoms; or, more\nstrictly speaking--equivalents. And these two substances are so unstable as\nto decompose at quite ordinary temperatures; as that to which the outside\nof a joint of roast meat is exposed. Thus it is manifest that the present\nchemical heterogeneity of the Earth's surface has arisen by degrees, as the\ndecrease of heat has permitted; and that it has shown itself in three\nforms--first, in the multiplication of chemical compounds; second, in the\ngreater number of different elements contained in the more modern of these\ncompounds: and third, in the higher and more varied multiples in which\nthese more numerous elements combine.\n\nTo say that this advance in chemical heterogeneity is due to the one cause,\ndiminution of the Earth's temperature, would be to say too much; for it is\nclear that aqueous and atmospheric agencies have been concerned; and,\nfurther, that the affinities of the elements themselves are implied. The\ncause has all along been a composite one: the cooling of the Earth having\nbeen simply the most general of the concurrent causes, or assemblage of\nconditions. And here, indeed, it may be remarked that in the several\nclasses of facts already dealt with (excepting, perhaps, the first), and\nstill more in those with which we shall presently deal, the causes are more\nor less compound; as indeed are nearly all causes with which we are\nacquainted. Scarcely any change can with logical accuracy be wholly\nascribed to one agency, to the neglect of the permanent or temporary\nconditions under which only this agency produces the change. But as it does\nnot materially affect our argument, we prefer, for simplicity's sake, to\nuse throughout the popular mode of expression.\n\nPerhaps it will be further objected, that to assign loss of heat as the\ncause of any changes, is to attribute these changes not to a force, but to\nthe absence of a force. And this is true. Strictly speaking, the changes\nshould be attributed to those forces which come into action when the\nantagonist force is withdrawn. But though there is an inaccuracy in saying\nthat the freezing of water is due to the loss of its heat, no practical\nerror arises from it; nor will a parallel laxity of expression vitiate our\nstatements respecting the multiplication of effects. Indeed, the objection\nserves but to draw attention to the fact, that not only does the exertion\nof a force produce more than one change, but the withdrawal of a force\nproduces more than one change. And this suggests that perhaps the most\ncorrect statement of our general principle would be its most abstract\nstatement--every change is followed by more than one other change.\n\nReturning to the thread of our exposition, we have next to trace out, in\norganic progress, this same all-pervading principle. And here, where the\nevolution of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous was first observed, the\nproduction of many changes by one cause is least easy to demonstrate. The\ndevelopment of a seed into a plant, or an ovum into an animal, is so\ngradual, while the forces which determine it are so involved, and at the\nsame time so unobtrusive, that it is difficult to detect the multiplication\nof effects which is elsewhere so obvious. Nevertheless, guided by indirect\nevidence, we may pretty safely reach the conclusion that here too the law\nholds.\n\nObserve, first, how numerous are the effects which any marked change works\nupon an adult organism--a human being, for instance. An alarming sound or\nsight, besides the impressions on the organs of sense and the nerves, may\nproduce a start, a scream, a distortion of the face, a trembling consequent\nupon a general muscular relaxation, a burst of perspiration, an excited\naction of the heart, a rush of blood to the brain, followed possibly by\narrest of the heart's action and by syncope: and if the system be feeble,\nan indisposition with its long train of complicated symptoms may set in.\nSimilarly in cases of disease. A minute portion of the small-pox virus\nintroduced into the system, will, in a severe case, cause, during the first\nstage, rigors, heat of skin, accelerated pulse, furred tongue, loss of\nappetite, thirst, epigastric uneasiness, vomiting, headache, pains in the\nback and limbs, muscular weakness, convulsions, delirium, &c.; in the\nsecond stage, cutaneous eruption, itching, tingling, sore throat, swelled\nfauces, salivation, cough, hoarseness, dyspn[oe]a, &c.; and in the third\nstage, [oe]dematous inflammations, pneumonia, pleurisy, diarrh[oe]a,\ninflammation of the brain, ophthalmia, erysipelas, &c.: each of which\nenumerated symptoms is itself more or less complex. Medicines, special\nfoods, better air, might in like manner be instanced as producing\nmultiplied results.\n\nNow it needs only to consider that the many changes thus wrought by one\nforce upon an adult organism, will be in part paralleled in an embryo\norganism, to understand how here also, the evolution of the homogeneous\ninto the heterogeneous may be due to the production of many effects by one\ncause. The external heat and other agencies which determine the first\ncomplications of the germ, may, by acting upon these, superinduce further\ncomplications; upon these still higher and more numerous ones; and so on\ncontinually: each organ as it is developed serving, by its actions and\nreactions upon the rest, to initiate new complexities. The first pulsations\nof the f[oe]tal heart must simultaneously aid the unfolding of every part.\nThe growth of each tissue, by taking from the blood special proportions of\nelements, must modify the constitution of the blood; and so must modify the\nnutrition of all the other tissues. The heart's action, implying as it does\na certain waste, necessitates an addition to the blood of effete matters,\nwhich must influence the rest of the system, and perhaps, as some think,\ncause the formation of excretory organs. The nervous connections\nestablished among the viscera must further multiply their mutual\ninfluences: and so continually.\n\nStill stronger becomes the probability of this view when we call to mind\nthe fact, that the same germ may be evolved into different forms according\nto circumstances. Thus, during its earlier stages, every embryo is\nsexless--becomes either male or female as the balance of forces acting upon\nit determines. Again, it is a well-established fact that the larva of a\nworking-bee will develop into a queen-bee, if, before it is too late, its\nfood be changed to that on which the larvae of queen-bees are fed. Even more\nremarkable is the case of certain entozoa. The ovum of a tape-worm, getting\ninto its natural habitat, the intestine, unfolds into the well-known form\nof its parent; but if carried, as it frequently is, into other parts of the\nsystem, it becomes a sac-like creature, called by naturalists the\n_Echinococcus_--a creature so extremely different from the tape-worm in\naspect and structure, that only after careful investigations has it been\nproved to have the same origin. All which instances imply that each advance\nin embryonic complication results from the action of incident forces upon\nthe complication previously existing.\n\nIndeed, we may find _a priori_ reason to think that the evolution proceeds\nafter this manner. For since it is now known that no germ, animal or\nvegetable, contains the slightest rudiment, trace, or indication of the\nfuture organism--now that the microscope has shown us that the first\nprocess set up in every fertilized germ, is a process of repeated\nspontaneous fissions ending in the production of a mass of cells, not one\nof which exhibits any special character: there seems no alternative but to\nsuppose that the partial organization at any moment subsisting in a growing\nembryo, is transformed by the agencies acting upon it into the succeeding\nphase of organization, and this into the next, until, through\never-increasing complexities, the ultimate form is reached. Thus, though\nthe subtilty of the forces and the slowness of the results, prevent us from\n_directly_ showing that the stages of increasing heterogeneity through\nwhich every embryo passes, severally arise from the production of many\nchanges by one force, yet, _indirectly_, we have strong evidence that they\ndo so.\n\nWe have marked how multitudinous are the effects which one cause may\ngenerate in an adult organism; that a like multiplication of effects must\nhappen in the unfolding organism, we have observed in sundry illustrative\ncases; further, it has been pointed out that the ability which like germs\nhave to originate unlike forms, implies that the successive transformations\nresult from the new changes superinduced on previous changes; and we have\nseen that structureless as every germ originally is, the development of an\norganism out of it is otherwise incomprehensible. Not indeed that we can\nthus really explain the production of any plant or animal. We are still in\nthe dark respecting those mysterious properties in virtue of which the\ngerm, when subject to fit influences, undergoes the special changes that\nbegin the series of transformations. All we aim to show, is, that given a\ngerm possessing these mysterious properties, the evolution of an organism\nfrom it, probably depends upon that multiplication of effects which we have\nseen to be the cause of progress in general, so far as we have yet traced\nit.\n\nWhen, leaving the development of single plants and animals, we pass to that\nof the Earth's flora and fauna, the course of our argument again becomes\nclear and simple. Though, as was admitted in the first part of this\narticle, the fragmentary facts Palaeontology has accumulated, do not clearly\nwarrant us in saying that, in the lapse of geologic time, there have been\nevolved more heterogeneous organisms, and more heterogeneous assemblages of\norganisms, yet we shall now see that there _must_ ever have been a tendency\ntowards these results. We shall find that the production of many effects by\none cause, which, as already shown, has been all along increasing the\nphysical heterogeneity of the Earth, has further involved an increasing\nheterogeneity in its flora and fauna, individually and collectively. An\nillustration will make this clear.\n\nSuppose that by a series of upheavals, occurring, as they are now known to\ndo, at long intervals, the East Indian Archipelago were to be, step by\nstep, raised into a continent, and a chain of mountains formed along the\naxis of elevation. By the first of these upheavals, the plants and animals\ninhabiting Borneo, Sumatra, New Guinea, and the rest, would be subjected to\nslightly modified sets of conditions. The climate in general would be\naltered in temperature, in humidity, and in its periodical variations;\nwhile the local differences would be multiplied. These modifications would\naffect, perhaps inappreciably, the entire flora and fauna of the region.\nThe change of level would produce additional modifications: varying in\ndifferent species, and also in different members of the same species,\naccording to their distance from the axis of elevation. Plants, growing\nonly on the sea-shore in special localities, might become extinct. Others,\nliving only in swamps of a certain humidity, would, if they survived at\nall, probably undergo visible changes of appearance. While still greater\nalterations would occur in the plants gradually spreading over the lands\nnewly raised above the sea. The animals and insects living on these\nmodified plants, would themselves be in some degree modified by change of\nfood, as well as by change of climate; and the modification would be more\nmarked where, from the dwindling or disappearance of one kind of plant, an\nallied kind was eaten. In the lapse of the many generations arising before\nthe next upheaval, the sensible or insensible alterations thus produced in\neach species would become organized--there would be a more or less complete\nadaptation to the new conditions. The next upheaval would superinduce\nfurther organic changes, implying wider divergences from the primary forms;\nand so repeatedly.\n\nBut now let it be observed that the revolution thus resulting would not be\na substitution of a thousand more or less modified species for the thousand\noriginal species; but in place of the thousand original species there would\narise several thousand species, or varieties, or changed forms. Each\nspecies being distributed over an area of some extent, and tending\ncontinually to colonize the new area exposed, its different members would\nbe subject to different sets of changes. Plants and animals spreading\ntowards the equator would not be affected in the same way with others\nspreading from it. Those spreading towards the new shores would undergo\nchanges unlike the changes undergone by those spreading into the mountains.\nThus, each original race of organisms, would become the root from which\ndiverged several races differing more or less from it and from each other;\nand while some of these might subsequently disappear, probably more than\none would survive in the next geologic period: the very dispersion itself\nincreasing the chances of survival. Not only would there be certain\nmodifications thus caused by change of physical conditions and food, but\nalso in some cases other modifications caused by change of habit. The fauna\nof each island, peopling, step by step, the newly-raised tracts, would\neventually come in contact with the faunas of other islands; and some\nmembers of these other faunas would be unlike any creatures before seen.\nHerbivores meeting with new beasts of prey, would, in some cases, be led\ninto modes of defence or escape differing from those previously used; and\nsimultaneously the beasts of prey would modify their modes of pursuit and\nattack. We know that when circumstances demand it, such changes of habit\n_do_ take place in animals; and we know that if the new habits become the\ndominant ones, they must eventually in some degree alter the organization.\n\nObserve, now, however, a further consequence. There must arise not simply a\ntendency towards the differentiation of each race of organisms into several\nraces; but also a tendency to the occasional production of a somewhat\nhigher organism. Taken in the mass these divergent varieties which have\nbeen caused by fresh physical conditions and habits of life, will exhibit\nchanges quite indefinite in kind and degree; and changes that do not\nnecessarily constitute an advance. Probably in most cases the modified type\nwill be neither more nor less heterogeneous than the original one. In some\ncases the habits of life adopted being simpler than before, a less\nheterogeneous structure will result: there will be a retrogradation. But it\n_must_ now and then occur, that some division of a species, falling into\ncircumstances which give it rather more complex experiences, and demand\nactions somewhat more involved, will have certain of its organs further\ndifferentiated in proportionately small degrees,--will become slightly more\nheterogeneous.\n\nThus, in the natural course of things, there will from time to time arise\nan increased heterogeneity both of the Earth's flora and fauna, and of\nindividual races included in them. Omitting detailed explanations, and\nallowing for the qualifications which cannot here be specified, we think it\nis clear that geological mutations have all along tended to complicate the\nforms of life, whether regarded separately or collectively. The same causes\nwhich have led to the evolution of the Earth's crust from the simple into\nthe complex, have simultaneously led to a parallel evolution of the Life\nupon its surface. In this case, as in previous ones, we see that the\ntransformation of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous is consequent upon\nthe universal principle, that every active force produces more than one\nchange.\n\nThe deduction here drawn from the established truths of geology and the\ngeneral laws of life, gains immensely in weight on finding it to be in\nharmony with an induction drawn from direct experience. Just that\ndivergence of many races from one race, which we inferred must have been\ncontinually occurring during geologic time, we know to have occurred during\nthe pre-historic and historic periods, in man and domestic animals. And\njust that multiplication of effects which we concluded must have produced\nthe first, we see has produced the last. Single causes, as famine, pressure\nof population, war, have periodically led to further dispersions of mankind\nand of dependent creatures: each such dispersion initiating new\nmodifications, new varieties of type. Whether all the human races be or be\nnot derived from one stock, philology makes it clear that whole groups of\nraces now easily distinguishable from each other, were originally one\nrace,--that the diffusion of one race into different climates and\nconditions of existence, has produced many modified forms of it.\n\nSimilarly with domestic animals. Though in some cases--as that of\ndogs--community of origin will perhaps be disputed, yet in other cases--as\nthat of the sheep or the cattle of our own country--it will not be\nquestioned that local differences of climate, food, and treatment, have\ntransformed one original breed into numerous breeds now become so far\ndistinct as to produce unstable hybrids. Moreover, through the\ncomplications of effects flowing from single causes, we here find, what we\nbefore inferred, not only an increase of general heterogeneity, but also of\nspecial heterogeneity. While of the divergent divisions and subdivisions of\nthe human race, many have undergone changes not constituting an advance;\nwhile in some the type may have degraded; in others it has become decidedly\nmore heterogeneous. The civilized European departs more widely from the\nvertebrate archetype than does the savage. Thus, both the law and the cause\nof progress, which, from lack of evidence, can be but hypothetically\nsubstantiated in respect of the earlier forms of life on our globe, can be\nactually substantiated in respect of the latest forms.\n\nIf the advance of Man towards greater heterogeneity is traceable to the\nproduction of many effects by one cause still more clearly may the advance\nof Society towards greater heterogeneity be so explained. Consider the\ngrowth of an industrial organization. When, as must occasionally happen,\nsome individual of a tribe displays unusual aptitude for making an article\nof general use--a weapon, for instance--which was before made by each man\nfor himself, there arises a tendency towards the differentiation of that\nindividual into a maker of such weapon. His companions--warriors and\nhunters all of them,--severally feel the importance of having the best\nweapons that can be made; and are therefore certain to offer strong\ninducements to this skilled individual to make weapons for them. He, on the\nother hand, having not only an unusual faculty, but an unusual liking, for\nmaking such weapons (the talent and the desire for any occupation being\ncommonly associated), is predisposed to fulfil these commissions on the\noffer of an adequate reward: especially as his love of distinction is also\ngratified. This first specialization of function, once commenced, tends\never to become more decided. On the side of the weapon-maker continued\npractice gives increased skill--increased superiority to his products: on\nthe side of his clients, cessation of practice entails decreased skill.\nThus the influences that determine this division of labour grow stronger in\nboth ways; and the incipient heterogeneity is, on the average of cases,\nlikely to become permanent for that generation, if no longer.\n\nObserve now, however, that this process not only differentiates the social\nmass into two parts, the one monopolizing, or almost monopolizing, the\nperformance of a certain function, and the other having lost the habit, and\nin some measure the power, of performing that function; but it tends to\nimitate other differentiations. The advance we have described implies the\nintroduction of barter,--the maker of weapons has, on each occasion, to be\npaid in such other articles as he agrees to take in exchange. But he will\nnot habitually take in exchange one kind of article, but many kinds. He\ndoes not want mats only, or skins, or fishing gear, but he wants all these;\nand on each occasion will bargain for the particular things he most needs.\nWhat follows? If among the members of the tribe there exist any slight\ndifferences of skill in the manufacture of these various things, as there\nare almost sure to do, the weapon-maker will take from each one the thing\nwhich that one excels in making: he will exchange for mats with him whose\nmats are superior, and will bargain for the fishing gear of whoever has the\nbest. But he who has bartered away his mats or his fishing gear, must make\nother mats or fishing gear for himself; and in so doing must, in some\ndegree, further develop his aptitude. Thus it results that the small\nspecialities of faculty possessed by various members of the tribe, will\ntend to grow more decided. If such transactions are from time repeated,\nthese specializations may become appreciable. And whether or not there\nensue distinct differentiations of other individuals into makers of\nparticular articles, it is clear that incipient differentiations take place\nthroughout the tribe: the one original cause produces not only the first\ndual effect, but a number of secondary dual effects, like in kind, but\nminor in degree. This process, of which traces may be seen among groups of\nschoolboys, cannot well produce any lasting effects in an unsettled tribe;\nbut where there grows up a fixed and multiplying community, these\ndifferentiations become permanent, and increase with each generation. A\nlarger population, involving a greater demand for every commodity,\nintensifies the functional activity of each specialized person or class;\nand this renders the specialization more definite where it already exists,\nand establishes it where it is nascent. By increasing the pressure on the\nmeans of subsistence, a larger population again augments these results;\nseeing that each person is forced more and more to confine himself to that\nwhich he can do best, and by which he can gain most. This industrial\nprogress, by aiding future production, opens the way for a further growth\nof population, which reacts as before: in all which the multiplication of\neffects is manifest. Presently, under these same stimuli, new occupations\narise. Competing workers, ever aiming to produce improved articles,\noccasionally discover better processes or raw materials. In weapons and\ncutting tools, the substitution of bronze for stone entails upon him who\nfirst makes it a great increase of demand--so great an increase that he\npresently finds all his time occupied in making the bronze for the articles\nhe sells, and is obliged to depute the fashioning of these to others: and,\neventually, the making of bronze, thus gradually differentiated from a\npre-existing occupation, becomes an occupation by itself.\n\nBut now mark the ramified changes which follow this change. Bronze soon\nreplaces stone, not only in the articles it was first used for, but in many\nothers--in arms, tools, and utensils of various kinds; and so affects the\nmanufacture of these things. Further, it affects the processes which these\nutensils subserve, and the resulting products--modifies buildings,\ncarvings, dress, personal decorations. Yet again, it sets going sundry\nmanufactures which were before impossible, from lack of a material fit for\nthe requisite tools. And all these changes react on the people--increase\ntheir manipulative skill, their intelligence, their comfort,--refine their\nhabits and tastes. Thus the evolution of a homogeneous society into a\nheterogeneous one, is clearly consequent on the general principle, that\nmany effects are produced by one cause.\n\nOur limits will not allow us to follow out this process in its higher\ncomplications: else might we show how the localization of special\nindustries in special parts of a kingdom, as well as the minute subdivision\nof labour in the making of each commodity, are similarly determined. Or,\nturning to a somewhat different order of illustrations, we might dwell on\nthe multitudinous changes--material, intellectual, moral,--caused by\nprinting; or the further extensive series of changes wrought by gunpowder.\nBut leaving the intermediate phases of social development, let us take a\nfew illustrations from its most recent and its passing phases. To trace the\neffects of steam-power, in its manifold applications to mining, navigation,\nand manufactures of all kinds, would carry us into unmanageable detail. Let\nus confine ourselves to the latest embodiment of steam-power--the\nlocomotive engine.\n\nThis, as the proximate cause of our railway system, has changed the face of\nthe country, the course of trade, and the habits of the people. Consider,\nfirst, the complicated sets of changes that precede the making of every\nrailway--the provisional arrangements, the meetings, the registration, the\ntrial section, the parliamentary survey, the lithographed plans, the books\nof reference, the local deposits and notices, the application to\nParliament, the passing Standing-Orders Committee, the first, second, and\nthird readings: each of which brief heads indicates a multiplicity of\ntransactions, and the development of sundry occupations--as those of\nengineers, surveyors, lithographers, parliamentary agents, share-brokers;\nand the creation of sundry others--as those of traffic-takers,\nreference-takers. Consider, next, the yet more marked changes implied in\nrailway construction--the cuttings, embankings, tunnellings, diversions of\nroads; the building of bridges and stations; the laying down of ballast,\nsleepers, and rails; the making of engines, tenders, carriages and waggons:\nwhich processes, acting upon numerous trades, increase the importation of\ntimber, the quarrying of stone, the manufacture of iron, the mining of\ncoal, the burning of bricks: institute a variety of special manufactures\nweekly advertised in the _Railway Times_; and, finally, open the way to\nsundry new occupations, as those of drivers, stokers, cleaners,\nplate-layers, &c., &c. And then consider the changes, more numerous and\ninvolved still, which railways in action produce on the community at large.\nThe organization of every business is more or less modified: ease of\ncommunication makes it better to do directly what was before done by proxy;\nagencies are established where previously they would not have paid; goods\nare obtained from remote wholesale houses instead of near retail ones; and\ncommodities are used which distance once rendered inaccessible. Again, the\nrapidity and small cost of carriage tend to specialize more than ever the\nindustries of different districts--to confine each manufacture to the parts\nin which, from local advantages, it can be best carried on. Further, the\ndiminished cost of carriage, facilitating distribution, equalizes prices,\nand also, on the average, lowers prices: thus bringing divers articles\nwithin the means of those before unable to buy them, and so increasing\ntheir comforts and improving their habits. At the same time the practice of\ntravelling is immensely extended. Classes who never before thought of it,\ntake annual trips to the sea; visit their distant relations; make tours;\nand so we are benefited in body, feelings, and intellect. Moreover, the\nmore prompt transmission of letters and of news produces further\nchanges--makes the pulse of the nation faster. Yet more, there arises a\nwide dissemination of cheap literature through railway book-stalls, and of\nadvertisements in railway carriages: both of them aiding ulterior progress.\n\nAnd all the innumerable changes here briefly indicated are consequent on\nthe invention of the locomotive engine. The social organism has been\nrendered more heterogeneous in virtue of the many new occupations\nintroduced, and the many old ones further specialized; prices in every\nplace have been altered; each trader has, more or less, modified his way of\ndoing business; and almost every person has been affected in his actions,\nthoughts, emotions.\n\nIllustrations to the same effect might be indefinitely accumulated. That\nevery influence brought to bear upon society works multiplied effects; and\nthat increase of heterogeneity is due to this multiplication of effects;\nmay be seen in the history of every trade, every custom, every belief. But\nit is needless to give additional evidence of this. The only further fact\ndemanding notice, is, that we here see still more clearly than ever, the\ntruth before pointed out, that in proportion as the area on which any force\nexpends itself becomes heterogeneous, the results are in a yet higher\ndegree multiplied in number and kind. While among the primitive tribes to\nwhom it was first known, caoutchouc caused but a few changes, among\nourselves the changes have been so many and varied that the history of them\noccupies a volume.[D] Upon the small, homogeneous community inhabiting one\nof the Hebrides, the electric telegraph would produce, were it used,\nscarcely any results; but in England the results it produces are\nmultitudinous. The comparatively simple organization under which our\nancestors lived five centuries ago, could have undergone but few\nmodifications from an event like the recent one at Canton; but now the\nlegislative decision respecting it sets up many hundreds of complex\nmodifications, each of which will be the parent of numerous future ones.\n\n  [D] \"Personal Narrative of the Origin of the Caoutchouc, or\n      India-Rubber Manufacture in England.\" By Thomas Hancock.\n\nSpace permitting, we could willingly have pursued the argument in relation\nto all the subtler results of civilization. As before, we showed that the\nlaw of Progress to which the organic and inorganic worlds conform, is also\nconformed to by Language, Sculpture, Music, &c.; so might we here show that\nthe cause which we have hitherto found to determine Progress holds in these\ncases also. We might demonstrate in detail how, in Science, an advance of\none division presently advances other divisions--how Astronomy has been\nimmensely forwarded by discoveries in Optics, while other optical\ndiscoveries have initiated Microscopic Anatomy, and greatly aided the\ngrowth of Physiology--how Chemistry has indirectly increased our knowledge\nof Electricity, Magnetism, Biology, Geology--how Electricity has reacted on\nChemistry and Magnetism, developed our views of Light and Heat, and\ndisclosed sundry laws of nervous action.\n\nIn Literature the same truth might be exhibited in the manifold effects of\nthe primitive mystery-play, not only as originating the modern drama, but\nas affecting through it other kinds of poetry and fiction; or in the still\nmultiplying forms of periodical literature that have descended from the\nfirst newspaper, and which have severally acted and reacted on other forms\nof literature and on each other. The influence which a new school of\nPainting--as that of the pre-Raffaelites--exercises upon other schools; the\nhints which all kinds of pictorial art are deriving from Photography; the\ncomplex results of new critical doctrines, as those of Mr. Ruskin, might\nseverally be dwelt upon as displaying the like multiplication of effects.\nBut it would needlessly tax the reader's patience to pursue, in their many\nramifications, these various changes: here become so involved and subtle as\nto be followed with some difficulty.\n\nWithout further evidence, we venture to think our case is made out. The\nimperfections of statement which brevity has necessitated, do not, we\nbelieve, militate against the propositions laid down. The qualifications\nhere and there demanded would not, if made, affect the inferences. Though\nin one instance, where sufficient evidence is not attainable, we have been\nunable to show that the law of Progress applies; yet there is high\nprobability that the same generalization holds which holds throughout the\nrest of creation. Though, in tracing the genesis of Progress, we have\nfrequently spoken of complex causes as if they were simple ones; it still\nremains true that such causes are far less complex than their results.\nDetailed criticisms cannot affect our main position. Endless facts go to\nshow that every kind of progress is from the homogeneous to the\nheterogeneous; and that it is so because each change is followed by many\nchanges. And it is significant that where the facts are most accessible and\nabundant, there are these truths most manifest.\n\nHowever, to avoid committing ourselves to more than is yet proved, we must\nbe content with saying that such are the law and the cause of all progress\nthat is known to us. Should the Nebular Hypothesis ever be established,\nthen it will become manifest that the Universe at large, like every\norganism, was once homogeneous; that as a whole, and in every detail, it\nhas unceasingly advanced towards greater heterogeneity; and that its\nheterogeneity is still increasing. It will be seen that as in each event of\nto-day, so from the beginning, the decomposition of every expended force\ninto several forces has been perpetually producing a higher complication;\nthat the increase of heterogeneity so brought about is still going on, and\nmust continue to go on; and that thus Progress is not an accident, not a\nthing within human control, but a beneficent necessity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA few words must be added on the ontological bearings of our argument.\nProbably not a few will conclude that here is an attempted solution of the\ngreat questions with which Philosophy in all ages has perplexed itself. Let\nnone thus deceive themselves. Only such as know not the scope and the\nlimits of Science can fall into so grave an error. The foregoing\ngeneralizations apply, not to the genesis of things in themselves, but to\ntheir genesis as manifested to the human consciousness. After all that has\nbeen said, the ultimate mystery remains just as it was. The explanation of\nthat which is explicable, does but bring out into greater clearness the\ninexplicableness of that which remains behind. However we may succeed in\nreducing the equation to its lowest terms, we are not thereby enabled to\ndetermine the unknown quantity: on the contrary, it only becomes more\nmanifest that the unknown quantity can never be found.\n\nLittle as it seems to do so, fearless inquiry tends continually to give a\nfirmer basis to all true Religion. The timid sectarian, alarmed at the\nprogress of knowledge, obliged to abandon one by one the superstitions of\nhis ancestors, and daily finding his cherished beliefs more and more\nshaken, secretly fears that all things may some day be explained; and has a\ncorresponding dread of Science: thus evincing the profoundest of all\ninfidelity--the fear lest the truth be bad. On the other hand, the sincere\nman of science, content to follow wherever the evidence leads him, becomes\nby each new inquiry more profoundly convinced that the Universe is an\ninsoluble problem. Alike in the external and the internal worlds, he sees\nhimself in the midst of perpetual changes, of which he can discover neither\nthe beginning nor the end. If, tracing back the evolution of things, he\nallows himself to entertain the hypothesis that all matter once existed in\na diffused form, he finds it utterly impossible to conceive how this came\nto be so; and equally, if he speculates on the future, he can assign no\nlimit to the grand succession of phenomena ever unfolding themselves before\nhim. On the other hand, if he looks inward, he perceives that both\nterminations of the thread of consciousness are beyond his grasp: he cannot\nremember when or how consciousness commenced, and he cannot examine the\nconsciousness that at any moment exists; for only a state of consciousness\nthat is already past can become the object of thought, and never one which\nis passing.\n\nWhen, again, he turns from the succession of phenomena, external or\ninternal, to their essential nature, he is equally at fault. Though he may\nsucceed in resolving all properties of objects into manifestations of\nforce, he is not thereby enabled to realize what force is; but finds, on\nthe contrary, that the more he thinks about it, the more he is baffled.\nSimilarly, though analysis of mental actions may finally bring him down to\nsensations as the original materials out of which all thought is woven, he\nis none the forwarder; for he cannot in the least comprehend\nsensation--cannot even conceive how sensation is possible. Inward and\noutward things he thus discovers to be alike inscrutable in their ultimate\ngenesis and nature. He sees that the Materialist and Spiritualist\ncontroversy is a mere war of words; the disputants being equally\nabsurd--each believing he understands that which it is impossible for any\nman to understand. In all directions his investigations eventually bring\nhim face to face with the unknowable; and he ever more clearly perceives it\nto be the unknowable. He learns at once the greatness and the littleness of\nhuman intellect--its power in dealing with all that comes within the range\nof experience; its impotence in dealing with all that transcends\nexperience. He feels, with a vividness which no others can, the utter\nincomprehensibleness of the simplest fact, considered in itself. He alone\ntruly _sees_ that absolute knowledge is impossible. He alone _knows_ that\nunder all things there lies an impenetrable mystery.\n\n\n\n\nII. MANNERS AND FASHION.\n\n\nWhoever has studied the physiognomy of political meetings, cannot fail to\nhave remarked a connection between democratic opinions and peculiarities of\ncostume. At a Chartist demonstration, a lecture on Socialism, or a _soiree_\nof the Friends of Italy, there will be seen many among the audience, and a\nstill larger ratio among the speakers, who get themselves up in a style\nmore or less unusual. One gentleman on the platform divides his hair down\nthe centre, instead of on one side; another brushes it back off the\nforehead, in the fashion known as \"bringing out the intellect;\" a third has\nso long forsworn the scissors, that his locks sweep his shoulders. A\nconsiderable sprinkling of moustaches may be observed; here and there an\nimperial; and occasionally some courageous breaker of conventions exhibits\na full-grown beard.[E] This nonconformity in hair is countenanced by\nvarious nonconformities in dress, shown by others of the assemblage. Bare\nnecks, shirt-collars _a la_ Byron, waistcoats cut Quaker fashion,\nwonderfully shaggy great coats, numerous oddities in form and colour,\ndestroy the monotony usual in crowds. Even those exhibiting no conspicuous\npeculiarity, frequently indicate by something in the pattern or make-up of\ntheir clothes, that they pay small regard to what their tailors tell them\nabout the prevailing taste. And when the gathering breaks up, the varieties\nof head gear displayed--the number of caps, and the abundance of felt\nhats--suffice to prove that were the world at large like-minded, the black\ncylinders which tyrannize over us would soon be deposed.\n\n  [E] This was written before moustaches and beards had become common.\n\nThe foreign correspondence of our daily press shows that this relationship\nbetween political discontent and the disregard of customs exists on the\nContinent also. Red republicanism has always been distinguished by its\nhirsuteness. The authorities of Prussia, Austria, and Italy, alike\nrecognize certain forms of hat as indicative of disaffection, and fulminate\nagainst them accordingly. In some places the wearer of a blouse runs a risk\nof being classed among the _suspects_; and in others, he who would avoid\nthe bureau of police, must beware how he goes out in any but the ordinary\ncolours. Thus, democracy abroad, as at home, tends towards personal\nsingularity.\n\nNor is this association of characteristics peculiar to modern times, or to\nreformers of the State. It has always existed; and it has been manifested\nas much in religious agitations as in political ones. Along with dissent\nfrom the chief established opinions and arrangements, there has ever been\nsome dissent from the customary social practices. The Puritans,\ndisapproving of the long curls of the Cavaliers, as of their principles,\ncut their own hair short, and so gained the name of \"Roundheads.\" The\nmarked religious nonconformity of the Quakers was accompanied by an\nequally-marked nonconformity of manners--in attire, in speech, in\nsalutation. The early Moravians not only believed differently, but at the\nsame time dressed differently, and lived differently, from their fellow\nChristians.\n\nThat the association between political independence and independence of\npersonal conduct, is not a phenomenon of to-day only, we may see alike in\nthe appearance of Franklin at the French court in plain clothes, and in the\nwhite hats worn by the last generation of radicals. Originality of nature\nis sure to show itself in more ways than one. The mention of George Fox's\nsuit of leather, or Pestalozzi's school name, \"Harry Oddity,\" will at once\nsuggest the remembrance that men who have in great things diverged from the\nbeaten track, have frequently done so in small things likewise. Minor\nillustrations of this truth may be gathered in almost every circle. We\nbelieve that whoever will number up his reforming and rationalist\nacquaintances, will find among them more than the usual proportion of those\nwho in dress or behaviour exhibit some degree of what the world calls\neccentricity.\n\nIf it be a fact that men of revolutionary aims in politics or religion, are\ncommonly revolutionists in custom also, it is not less a fact that those\nwhose office it is to uphold established arrangements in State and Church,\nare also those who most adhere to the social forms and observances\nbequeathed to us by past generations. Practices elsewhere extinct still\nlinger about the headquarters of government. The monarch still gives assent\nto Acts of Parliament in the old French of the Normans; and Norman French\nterms are still used in law. Wigs, such as those we see depicted in old\nportraits, may yet be found on the heads of judges and barristers. The\nBeefeaters at the Tower wear the costume of Henry VIIth's body-guard. The\nUniversity dress of the present year varies but little from that worn soon\nafter the Reformation. The claret-coloured coat, knee-breeches, lace shirt\nfrills, ruffles, white silk stockings, and buckled shoes, which once formed\nthe usual attire of a gentleman, still survive as the court-dress. And it\nneed scarcely be said that at _levees_ and drawing-rooms, the ceremonies\nare prescribed with an exactness, and enforced with a rigour, not elsewhere\nto be found.\n\nCan we consider these two series of coincidences as accidental and\nunmeaning? Must we not rather conclude that some necessary relationship\nobtains between them? Are there not such things as a constitutional\nconservatism, and a constitutional tendency to change? Is there not a class\nwhich clings to the old in all things; and another class so in love with\nprogress as often to mistake novelty for improvement? Do we not find some\nmen ready to bow to established authority of whatever kind; while others\ndemand of every such authority its reason, and reject it if it fails to\njustify itself? And must not the minds thus contrasted tend to become\nrespectively conformist and nonconformist, not only in politics and\nreligion, but in other things? Submission, whether to a government, to the\ndogmas of ecclesiastics, or to that code of behaviour which society at\nlarge has set up, is essentially of the same nature; and the sentiment\nwhich induces resistance to the despotism of rulers, civil or spiritual,\nlikewise induces resistance to the despotism of the world's opinion. Look\nat them fundamentally, and all enactments, alike of the legislature, the\nconsistory, and the saloon--all regulations, formal or virtual, have a\ncommon character: they are all limitations of men's freedom. \"Do\nthis--Refrain from that,\" are the blank formulas into which they may all be\nwritten: and in each case the understanding is that obedience will bring\napprobation here and paradise hereafter; while disobedience will entail\nimprisonment, or sending to Coventry, or eternal torments, as the case may\nbe. And if restraints, however named, and through whatever apparatus of\nmeans exercised, are one in their action upon men, it must happen that\nthose who are patient under one kind of restraint, are likely to be patient\nunder another; and conversely, that those impatient of restraint in\ngeneral, will, on the average, tend to show their impatience in all\ndirections.\n\nThat Law, Religion, and Manners are thus related--that their respective\nkinds of operation come under one generalization--that they have in certain\ncontrasted characteristics of men a common support and a common\ndanger--will, however, be most clearly seen on discovering that they have a\ncommon origin. Little as from present appearances we should suppose it, we\nshall yet find that at first, the control of religion, the control of laws,\nand the control of manners, were all one control. However incredible it may\nnow seem, we believe it to be demonstrable that the rules of etiquette, the\nprovisions of the statute-book, and the commands of the decalogue, have\ngrown from the same root. If we go far enough back into the ages of\nprimeval Fetishism, it becomes manifest that originally Deity, Chief, and\nMaster of the ceremonies were identical. To make good these positions, and\nto show their bearing on what is to follow, it will be necessary here to\ntraverse ground that is in part somewhat beaten, and at first sight\nirrelevant to our topic. We will pass over it as quickly as consists with\nthe exigencies of the argument.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat the earliest social aggregations were ruled solely by the will of the\nstrong man, few dispute. That from the strong man proceeded not only\nMonarchy, but the conception of a God, few admit: much as Carlyle and\nothers have said in evidence of it. If, however, those who are unable to\nbelieve this, will lay aside the ideas of God and man in which they have\nbeen educated, and study the aboriginal ideas of them, they will at least\nsee some probability in the hypothesis. Let them remember that before\nexperience had yet taught men to distinguish between the possible and the\nimpossible; and while they were ready on the slightest suggestion to\nascribe unknown powers to any object and make a fetish of it; their\nconceptions of humanity and its capacities were necessarily vague, and\nwithout specific limits. The man who by unusual strength, or cunning,\nachieved something that others had failed to achieve, or something which\nthey did not understand, was considered by them as differing from\nthemselves; and, as we see in the belief of some Polynesians that only\ntheir chiefs have souls, or in that of the ancient Peruvians that their\nnobles were divine by birth, the ascribed difference was apt to be not one\nof degree only, but one of kind.\n\nLet them remember next, how gross were the notions of God, or rather of\ngods, prevalent during the same era and afterwards--how concretely gods\nwere conceived as men of specific aspects dressed in specific ways--how\ntheir names were literally \"the strong,\" \"the destroyer,\" \"the powerful\none,\"--how, according to the Scandinavian mythology, the \"sacred duty of\nblood-revenge\" was acted on by the gods themselves,--and how they were not\nonly human in their vindictiveness, their cruelty, and their quarrels with\neach other, but were supposed to have amours on earth, and to consume the\nviands placed on their altars. Add to which, that in various mythologies,\nGreek, Scandinavian, and others, the oldest beings are giants; that\naccording to a traditional genealogy the gods, demi-gods, and in some cases\nmen, are descended from these after the human fashion; and that while in\nthe East we hear of sons of God who saw the daughters of men that they were\nfair, the Teutonic myths tell of unions between the sons of men and the\ndaughters of the gods.\n\nLet them remember, too, that at first the idea of death differed widely\nfrom that which we have; that there are still tribes who, on the decease of\none of their number, attempt to make the corpse stand, and put food into\nhis mouth; that the Peruvians had feasts at which the mummies of their dead\nIncas presided, when, as Prescott says, they paid attention \"to these\ninsensible remains as if they were instinct with life;\" that among the\nFeejees it is believed that every enemy has to be killed twice; that the\nEastern Pagans give extension and figure to the soul, and attribute to it\nall the same substances, both solid and liquid, of which our bodies are\ncomposed; and that it is the custom among most barbarous races to bury\nfood, weapons, and trinkets along with the dead body, under the manifest\nbelief that it will presently need them.\n\nLastly, let them remember that the other world, as originally conceived, is\nsimply some distant part of this world--some Elysian fields, some happy\nhunting-ground, accessible even to the living, and to which, after death,\nmen travel in anticipation of a life analogous in general character to that\nwhich they led before. Then, co-ordinating these general facts--the\nascription of unknown powers to chiefs and medicine men; the belief in\ndeities having human forms, passions, and behaviour; the imperfect\ncomprehension of death as distinguished from life; and the proximity of the\nfuture abode to the present, both in position and character--let them\nreflect whether they do not almost unavoidably suggest the conclusion that\nthe aboriginal god is the dead chief: the chief not dead in our sense, but\ngone away carrying with him food and weapons to some rumoured region of\nplenty, some promised land, whither he had long intended to lead his\nfollowers, and whence he will presently return to fetch them.\n\nThis hypothesis once entertained, is seen to harmonize with all primitive\nideas and practices. The sons of the deified chief reigning after him, it\nnecessarily happens that all early kings are held descendants of the gods;\nand the fact that alike in Assyria, Egypt, among the Jews, Ph[oe]nicians,\nand ancient Britons, kings' names were formed out of the names of the gods,\nis fully explained. The genesis of Polytheism out of Fetishism, by the\nsuccessive migrations of the race of god-kings to the other world--a\ngenesis illustrated in the Greek mythology, alike by the precise genealogy\nof the deities, and by the specifically asserted apotheosis of the later\nones--tends further to bear it out. It explains the fact that in the old\ncreeds, as in the still extant creed of the Otaheitans, every family has\nits guardian spirit, who is supposed to be one of their departed relatives;\nand that they sacrifice to these as minor gods--a practice still pursued by\nthe Chinese and even by the Russians. It is perfectly congruous with the\nGrecian myths concerning the wars of the Gods with the Titans and their\nfinal usurpation; and it similarly agrees with the fact that among the\nTeutonic gods proper was one Freir who came among them by adoption, \"but\nwas born among the _Vanes_, a somewhat mysterious _other_ dynasty of gods,\nwho had been conquered and superseded by the stronger and more warlike Odin\ndynasty.\" It harmonizes, too, with the belief that there are different gods\nto different territories and nations, as there were different chiefs; that\nthese gods contend for supremacy as chiefs do; and it gives meaning to the\nboast of neighbouring tribes--\"Our god is greater than your god.\" It is\nconfirmed by the notion universally current in early times, that the gods\ncome from this other abode, in which they commonly live, and appear among\nmen--speak to them, help them, punish them. And remembering this, it\nbecomes manifest that the prayers put up by primitive peoples to their gods\nfor aid in battle, are meant literally--that their gods are expected to\ncome back from the other kingdom they are reigning over, and once more\nfight the old enemies they had before warred against so implacably; and it\nneeds but to name the Iliad, to remind every one how thoroughly they\nbelieved the expectation fulfilled.\n\nAll government, then, being originally that of the strong man who has\nbecome a fetish by some manifestation of superiority, there arises, at his\ndeath--his supposed departure on a long projected expedition, in which he\nis accompanied by his slaves and concubines sacrificed at his tomb--there\narises, then, the incipient division of religious from political control,\nof civil rule from spiritual. His son becomes deputed chief during his\nabsence; his authority is cited as that by which his son acts; his\nvengeance is invoked on all who disobey his son; and his commands, as\npreviously known or as asserted by his son, become the germ of a moral\ncode: a fact we shall the more clearly perceive if we remember, that early\nmoral codes inculcate mainly the virtues of the warrior, and the duty of\nexterminating some neighbouring tribe whose existence is an offence to the\ndeity.\n\nFrom this point onwards, these two kinds of authority, at first complicated\ntogether as those of principal and agent, become slowly more and more\ndistinct. As experience accumulates, and ideas of causation grow more\nprecise, kings lose their supernatural attributes; and, instead of\nGod-king, become God-descended king, God-appointed king, the Lord's\nanointed, the viceregent of heaven, ruler reigning by Divine right. The old\ntheory, however, long clings to men in feeling, after it has disappeared in\nname; and \"such divinity doth hedge a king,\" that even now, many, on first\nseeing one, feel a secret surprise at finding him an ordinary sample of\nhumanity. The sacredness attaching to royalty attaches afterwards to its\nappended institutions--to legislatures, to laws. Legal and illegal are\nsynonymous with right and wrong; the authority of Parliament is held\nunlimited; and a lingering faith in governmental power continually\ngenerates unfounded hopes from its enactments. Political scepticism,\nhowever, having destroyed the divine _prestige_ of royalty, goes on ever\nincreasing, and promises ultimately to reduce the State to a purely secular\ninstitution, whose regulations are limited in their sphere, and have no\nother authority than the general will. Meanwhile, the religious control has\nbeen little by little separating itself from the civil, both in its essence\nand in its forms. While from the God-king of the savage have arisen in one\ndirection, secular rulers who, age by age, have been losing the sacred\nattributes men ascribed to them; there has arisen in another direction, the\nconception of a deity, who, at first human in all things, has been\ngradually losing human materiality, human form, human passions, human modes\nof action: until now, anthropomorphism has become a reproach.\n\nAlong with this wide divergence in men's ideas of the divine and civil\nruler has been taking place a corresponding divergence in the codes of\nconduct respectively proceeding from them. While the king was a\ndeputy-god--a governor such as the Jews looked for in the Messiah--a\ngovernor considered, as the Czar still is, \"our God upon Earth,\"--it, of\ncourse, followed that his commands were the supreme rules. But as men\nceased to believe in his supernatural origin and nature, his commands\nceased to be the highest; and there arose a distinction between the\nregulations made by him, and the regulations handed down from the old\ngod-kings, who were rendered ever more sacred by time and the accumulation\nof myths. Hence came respectively, Law and Morality: the one growing ever\nmore concrete, the other more abstract; the authority of the one ever on\nthe decrease, that of the other ever on the increase; originally the same,\nbut now placed daily in more marked antagonism.\n\nSimultaneously there has been going on a separation of the institutions\nadministering these two codes of conduct. While they were yet one, of\ncourse Church and State were one: the king was arch-priest, not nominally,\nbut really--alike the giver of new commands and the chief interpreter of\nthe old commands; and the deputy-priests coming out of his family were thus\nsimply expounders of the dictates of their ancestry: at first as\nrecollected, and afterwards as ascertained by professed interviews with\nthem. This union--which still existed practically during the middle ages,\nwhen the authority of kings was mixed up with the authority of the pope,\nwhen there were bishop-rulers having all the powers of feudal lords, and\nwhen priests punished by penances--has been, step by step, becoming less\nclose. Though monarchs are still \"defenders of the faith,\" and\necclesiastical chiefs, they are but nominally such. Though bishops still\nhave civil power, it is not what they once had. Protestantism shook loose\nthe bonds of union; Dissent has long been busy in organizing a mechanism\nfor the exercise of religious control, wholly independent of law; in\nAmerica, a separate organization for that purpose already exists; and if\nanything is to be hoped from the Anti-State-Church Association--or, as it\nhas been newly named, \"The Society for the Liberation of Religion from\nState Patronage and Control\"--we shall presently have a separate\norganization here also.\n\nThus alike in authority, in essence, and in form, political and spiritual\nrule have been ever more widely diverging from the same root. That\nincreasing division of labour which marks the progress of society in other\nthings, marks it also in this separation of government into civil and\nreligious; and if we observe how the morality which forms the substance of\nreligions in general, is beginning to be purified from the associated\ncreeds, we may anticipate that this division will be ultimately carried\nmuch further.\n\nPassing now to the third species of control--that of Manners--we shall find\nthat this, too, while it had a common genesis with the others, has\ngradually come to have a distinct sphere and a special embodiment. Among\nearly aggregations of men before yet social observances existed, the sole\nforms of courtesy known were the signs of submission to the strong man; as\nthe sole law was his will, and the sole religion the awe of his supposed\nsupernaturalness. Originally, ceremonies were modes of behaviour to the\ngod-king. Our commonest titles have been derived from his names. And all\nsalutations were primarily worship paid to him. Let us trace out these\ntruths in detail, beginning with titles.\n\nThe fact already noticed, that the names of early kings among divers races\nare formed by the addition of certain syllables to the names of their\ngods--which certain syllables, like our _Mac_ and _Fitz_, probably mean\n\"son of,\" or \"descended from\"--at once gives meaning to the term _Father_\nas a divine title. And when we read, in Selden, that \"the composition out\nof these names of Deities was not only proper to Kings: their Grandes and\nmore honorable Subjects\" (no doubt members of the royal race) \"had\nsometimes the like;\" we see how the term _Father_, properly used by these\nalso, and by their multiplying descendants, came to be a title used by the\npeople in general. And it is significant as bearing on this point, that\namong the most barbarous nation in Europe, where belief in the divine\nnature of the ruler still lingers, _Father_ in this higher sense is still a\nregal distinction. When, again, we remember how the divinity at first\nascribed to kings was not a complimentary fiction but a supposed fact; and\nhow, further, under the Fetish philosophy the celestial bodies are believed\nto be personages who once lived among men; we see that the appellations of\noriental rulers, \"Brother to the Sun,\" &c., were probably once expressive\nof a genuine belief; and have simply, like many other things, continued in\nuse after all meaning has gone out of them. We may infer, too, that the\ntitles God, Lord, Divinity, were given to primitive rulers literally--that\nthe _nostra divinitas_ applied to the Roman emperors, and the various\nsacred designations that have been borne by monarchs, down to the still\nextant phrase, \"Our Lord the King,\" are the dead and dying forms of what\nwere once living facts. From these names, God, Father, Lord, Divinity,\noriginally belonging to the God-king, and afterwards to God and the king,\nthe derivation of our commonest titles of respect is clearly traceable.\n\nThere is reason to think that these titles were originally proper names.\nNot only do we see among the Egyptians, where Pharaoh was synonymous with\nking, and among the Romans, where to be Caesar, meant to be Emperor, that\nthe proper names of the greatest men were transferred to their successors,\nand so became class names; but in the Scandinavian mythology we may trace a\nhuman title of honour up to the proper name of a divine personage. In\nAnglo-Saxon _bealdor_, or _baldor_, means _Lord_; and Balder is the name of\nthe favourite of Odin's sons--the gods who with him constitute the Teutonic\nPantheon. How these names of honour became general is easily understood.\nThe relatives of the primitive kings--the grandees described by Selden as\nhaving names formed on those of the gods, and shown by this to be members\nof the divine race--necessarily shared in the epithets, such as _Lord_,\ndescriptive of superhuman relationships and nature. Their ever-multiplying\noffspring inheriting these, gradually rendered them comparatively common.\nAnd then they came to be applied to every man of power: partly from the\nfact that, in these early days when men conceived divinity simply as a\nstronger kind of humanity, great persons could be called by divine epithets\nwith but little exaggeration; partly from the fact that the unusually\npotent were apt to be considered as unrecognized or illegitimate\ndescendants of \"the strong, the destroyer, the powerful one;\" and partly,\nalso, from compliment and the desire to propitiate.\n\nProgressively as superstition diminished, this last became the sole cause.\nAnd if we remember that it is the nature of compliment, as we daily hear\nit, to attribute more than is due--that in the constantly widening\napplication of \"esquire,\" in the perpetual repetition of \"your honour\" by\nthe fawning Irishman, and in the use of the name \"gentleman\" to any\ncoalheaver or dustman by the lower classes of London, we have current\nexamples of the depreciation of titles consequent on compliment--and that\nin barbarous times, when the wish to propitiate was stronger than now, this\neffect must have been greater; we shall see that there naturally arose an\nextensive misuse of all early distinctions. Hence the facts, that the Jews\ncalled Herod a god; that _Father_, in its higher sense, was a term used\namong them by servants to masters; that _Lord_ was applicable to any person\nof worth and power. Hence, too, the fact that, in the later periods of the\nRoman Empire, every _ man saluted his neighbour as _Dominus_ and _Rex_.\n\nBut it is in the titles of the middle ages, and in the growth of our modern\nones out of them, that the process is most clearly seen. _Herr_, _Don_,\n_Signior_, _Seigneur_, _Sennor_, were all originally names of rulers--of\nfeudal lords. By the complimentary use of these names to all who could, on\nany pretence, be supposed to merit them, and by successive degradations of\nthem from each step in the descent to a still lower one, they have come to\nbe common forms of address. At first the phrase in which a serf accosted\nhis despotic chief, _mein herr_ is now familiarly applied in Germany to\nordinary people. The Spanish title _Don_, once proper to noblemen and\ngentlemen only, is now accorded to all classes. So, too, is it with\n_Signior_ in Italy. _Seigneur_, and _Monseigneur_, by contraction in\n_Sieur_ and _Monsieur_, have produced the term of respect claimed by every\nFrenchman. And whether _Sire_ be or be not a like contraction of _Signior_,\nit is clear that, as it was borne by sundry of the ancient feudal lords of\nFrance, who, as Selden says, \"affected rather to bee stiled by the name of\n_Sire_ than Baron, as _Le Sire de Montmorencie_, _Le Sire de Beaulieu_, and\nthe like,\" and as it has been commonly used to monarchs, our word _Sir_,\nwhich is derived from it, originally meant lord or king. Thus, too, is it\nwith feminine titles. _Lady_, which, according to Horne Tooke, means\n_exalted_, and was at first given only to the few, is now given to all\nwomen of education. _Dame_, once an honourable name to which, in old books,\nwe find the epithets of \"highborn\" and \"stately\" affixed, has now, by\nrepeated widenings of its application, become relatively a term of\ncontempt. And if we trace the compound of this, _ma Dame_, through its\ncontractions--_Madam_, _ma'am_, _mam_, _mum_, we find that the \"Yes'm\" of\nSally to her mistress is originally equivalent to \"Yes, my exalted,\" or\n\"Yes, your highness.\" Throughout, therefore, the genesis of words of honour\nhas been the same. Just as with the Jews and with the Romans, has it been\nwith the modern Europeans. Tracing these everyday names to their primitive\nsignifications of _lord_ and _king_, and remembering that in aboriginal\nsocieties these were applied only to the gods and their descendants, we\narrive at the conclusion that our familiar _Sir_ and _Monsieur_ are, in\ntheir primary and expanded meanings, terms of adoration.\n\nFurther to illustrate this gradual depreciation of titles, and to confirm\nthe inference drawn, it may be well to notice in passing, that the oldest\nof them have, as might be expected, been depreciated to the greatest\nextent. Thus, _Master_--a word proved by its derivation and by the\nsimilarity of the connate words in other languages (Fr., _maitre_ for\n_master_; Russ., _master_; Dan., _meester_; Ger., _meister_) to have been\none of the earliest in use for expressing lordship--has now become\napplicable to children only, and under the modification of \"Mister,\" to\npersons next above the labourer. Again, knighthood, the oldest kind of\ndignity, is also the lowest; and Knight Bachelor, which is the lowest order\nof knighthood, is more ancient than any other of the orders. Similarly,\ntoo, with the peerage: Baron is alike the earliest and least elevated of\nits divisions. This continual degradation of all names of honor has, from\ntime to time, made it requisite to introduce new ones having that\ndistinguishing effect which the originals had lost by generality of use;\njust as our habit of misapplying superlatives has, by gradually destroying\ntheir force, entailed the need for fresh ones. And if, within the last\nthousand years, this process has produced effects thus marked, we may\nreadily conceive how, during previous thousands, the titles of gods and\ndemi-gods came to be used to all persons exercising power; as they have\nsince come to be used to persons of respectability.\n\nIf from names of honour we turn to phrases of honour, we find similar\nfacts. The Oriental styles of address, applied to ordinary people--\"I am\nyour slave,\" \"All I have is yours,\" \"I am your sacrifice\"--attribute to the\nindividual spoken to the same greatness that _Monsieur_ and _My Lord_ do:\nthey ascribe to him the character of an all-powerful ruler, so immeasurably\nsuperior to the speaker as to be his owner. So, likewise, with the Polish\nexpressions of respect--\"I throw myself under your feet,\" \"I kiss your\nfeet.\" In our now meaningless subscription to a formal letter--\"Your most\nobedient servant,\"--the same thing is visible. Nay, even in the familiar\nsignature \"Yours faithfully,\" the \"yours,\" if interpreted as originally\nmeant, is the expression of a slave to his master.\n\nAll these dead forms were once living embodiments of fact--were primarily\nthe genuine indications of that submission to authority which they verbally\nassert; were afterwards naturally used by the weak and cowardly to\npropitiate those above them; gradually grew to be considered the due of\nsuch; and, by a continually wider misuse, have lost their meanings, as\n_Sir_ and _Master_ have done. That, like titles, they were in the beginning\nused only to the God-king, is indicated by the fact that, like titles, they\nwere subsequently used in common to God and the king. Religious worship has\never largely consisted of professions of obedience, of being God's\nservants, of belonging to him to do what he will with. Like titles,\ntherefore, these common phrases of honour had a devotional origin.\n\nPerhaps, however, it is in the use of the word _you_ as a singular pronoun\nthat the popularizing of what were once supreme distinctions is most\nmarkedly illustrated. This speaking of a single individual in the plural,\nwas originally an honour given only to the highest--was the reciprocal of\nthe imperial \"we\" assumed by such. Yet now, by being applied to\nsuccessively lower and lower classes, it has become all but universal. Only\nby one sect of Christians, and in a few secluded districts, is the\nprimitive _thou_ still used. And the _you_, in becoming common to all ranks\nhas simultaneously lost every vestige of the honour once attaching to it.\n\nBut the genesis of Manners out of forms of allegiance and worship, is above\nall shown in men's modes of salutation. Note first the significance of the\nword. Among the Romans, the _salutatio_ was a daily homage paid by clients\nand inferiors to superiors. This was alike the case with civilians and in\nthe army. The very derivation of our word, therefore, is suggestive of\nsubmission. Passing to particular forms of obeisance (mark the word again),\nlet us begin with the Eastern one of baring the feet. This was, primarily,\na mark of reverence, alike to a god and a king. The act of Moses before the\nburning bush, and the practice of Mahometans, who are sworn on the Koran\nwith their shoes off, exemplify the one employment of it; the custom of the\nPersians, who remove their shoes on entering the presence of their monarch,\nexemplifies the other. As usual, however, this homage, paid next to\ninferior rulers, has descended from grade to grade. In India, it is a\ncommon mark of respect; a polite man in Turkey always leaves his shoes at\nthe door, while the lower orders of Turks never enter the presence of their\nsuperiors but in their stockings; and in Japan, this baring of the feet is\nan ordinary salutation of man to man.\n\nTake another case. Selden, describing the ceremonies of the Romans,\nsays:--\"For whereas it was usual either to kiss the Images of their Gods,\nor adoring them, to stand somewhat off before them, solemnly moving the\nright hand to the lips, and then, casting it as if they had cast kisses, to\nturne the body on the same hand (which was the right forme of Adoration),\nit grew also by custom, first that the emperors, being next to Deities, and\nby some accounted as Deities, had the like done to them in acknowledgment\nof their Greatness.\" If, now, we call to mind the awkward salute of a\nvillage school-boy, made by putting his open hand up to his face and\ndescribing a semicircle with his forearm; and if we remember that the\nsalute thus used as a form of reverence in country districts, is most\nlikely a remnant of the feudal times; we shall see reason for thinking that\nour common wave of the hand to a friend across the street, represents what\nwas primarily a devotional act.\n\nSimilarly have originated all forms of respect depending upon inclinations\nof the body. Entire prostration is the aboriginal sign of submission. The\npassage of Scripture, \"Thou hast put all under his feet,\" and that other\none, so suggestive in its anthropomorphism, \"The Lord said unto my Lord,\nsit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool,\"\nimply, what the Assyrian sculptures fully bear out, that it was the\npractice of the ancient god-kings of the East to trample upon the\nconquered. And when we bear in mind that there are existing savages who\nsignify submission by placing the neck under the foot of the person\nsubmitted to, it becomes obvious that all prostration, especially when\naccompanied by kissing the foot, expressed a willingness to be trodden\nupon--was an attempt to mitigate wrath by saying, in signs, \"Tread on me if\nyou will.\" Remembering, further, that kissing the foot, as of the Pope and\nof a saint's statue, still continues in Europe to be a mark of extreme\nreverence; that prostration to feudal lords was once general; and that its\ndisappearance must have taken place, not abruptly, but by gradual\nmodification into something else; we have ground for deriving from these\ndeepest of humiliations all inclinations of respect; especially as the\ntransition is traceable. The reverence of a Russian serf, who bends his\nhead to the ground, and the salaam of the Hindoo, are abridged\nprostrations; a bow is a short salaam; a nod is a short bow.\n\nShould any hesitate to admit this conclusion, then perhaps, on being\nreminded that the lowest of these obeisances are common where the\nsubmission is most abject; that among ourselves the profundity of the bow\nmarks the amount of respect; and lastly, that the bow is even now used\ndevotionally in our churches--by Catholics to their altars, and by\nProtestants at the name of Christ--they will see sufficient evidence for\nthinking that this salutation also was originally worship.\n\nThe same may be said, too, of the curtsy, or courtesy, as it is otherwise\nwritten. Its derivation from _courtoisie_, courteousness, that is,\nbehaviour like that at court, at once shows that it was primarily the\nreverence paid to a monarch. And if we call to mind that falling upon the\nknees, or upon one knee, has been a common obeisance of subjects to rulers;\nthat in ancient manuscripts and tapestries, servants are depicted as\nassuming this attitude while offering the dishes to their masters at table;\nand that this same attitude is assumed towards our own queen at every\npresentation; we may infer, what the character of the curtsy itself\nsuggests, that it is an abridged act of kneeling. As the word has been\ncontracted from _courtoisie_ into curtsy; so the motion has been contracted\nfrom a placing of the knee on the floor, to a lowering of the knee towards\nthe floor. Moreover, when we compare the curtsy of a lady with the awkward\none a peasant girl makes, which, if continued, would bring her down on both\nknees, we may see in this last a remnant of that greater reverence required\nof serfs. And when, from considering that simple kneeling of the West,\nstill represented by the curtsy, we pass Eastward, and note the attitude of\nthe Mahomedan worshipper, who not only kneels but bows his head to the\nground, we may infer that the curtsy also, is an evanescent form of the\naboriginal prostration.\n\nIn further evidence of this it may be remarked, that there has but recently\ndisappeared from the salutations of men, an action having the same\nproximate derivation with the curtsy. That backward sweep of the foot with\nwhich the conventional stage-sailor accompanies his bow--a movement which\nprevailed generally in past generations, when \"a bow and a scrape\" went\ntogether, and which, within the memory of living persons, was made by boys\nto their schoolmaster with the effect of wearing a hole in the floor--is\npretty clearly a preliminary to going on one knee. A motion so ungainly\ncould never have been intentionally introduced; even if the artificial\nintroduction of obeisances were possible. Hence we must regard it as the\nremnant of something antecedent: and that this something antecedent was\nhumiliating maybe inferred from the phrase, \"scraping an acquaintance;\"\nwhich, being used to denote the gaining of favour by obsequiousness,\nimplies that the scrape was considered a mark of servility--that is, of\n_serf_-ility.\n\nConsider, again, the uncovering of the head. Almost everywhere this has\nbeen a sign of reverence, alike in temples and before potentates; and it\nyet preserves among us some of its original meaning. Whether it rains,\nhails, or shines, you must keep your head bare while speaking to the\nmonarch; and on no plea may you remain covered in a place of worship. As\nusual, however, this ceremony, at first a submission to gods and kings, has\nbecome in process of time a common civility. Once an acknowledgment of\nanother's unlimited supremacy, the removal of the hat is now a salute\naccorded to very ordinary persons, and that uncovering, originally reserved\nfor entrance into \"the house of God,\" good manners now dictates on entrance\ninto the house of a common labourer.\n\nStanding, too, as a mark of respect, has undergone like extensions in its\napplication. Shown, by the practice in our churches, to be intermediate\nbetween the humiliation signified by kneeling and the self-respect which\nsitting implies, and used at courts as a form of homage when more active\ndemonstrations of it have been made, this posture is now employed in daily\nlife to show consideration; as seen alike in the attitude of a servant\nbefore a master, and in that rising which politeness prescribes on the\nentrance of a visitor.\n\nMany other threads of evidence might have been woven into our argument. As,\nfor example, the significant fact, that if we trace back our still existing\nlaw of primogeniture--if we consider it as displayed by Scottish clans, in\nwhich not only ownership but government devolved from the beginning on the\neldest son of the eldest--if we look further back, and observe that the old\ntitles of lordship, _Signor_, _Seigneur_, _Sennor_, _Sire_, _Sieur_, all\noriginally mean, senior, or elder--if we go Eastward, and find that\n_Sheick_ has a like derivation, and that the Oriental names for priests, as\n_Pir_, for instance, are literally interpreted _old man_--if we note in\nHebrew records how primeval is the ascribed superiority of the first-born,\nhow great the authority of elders, and how sacred the memory of\npatriarchs--and if, then, we remember that among divine titles are \"Ancient\nof Days,\" and \"Father of Gods and men;\"--we see how completely these facts\nharmonize with the hypothesis, that the aboriginal god is the first man\nsufficiently great to become a tradition, the earliest whose power and\ndeeds made him remembered; that hence antiquity unavoidably became\nassociated with superiority, and age with nearness in blood to \"the\npowerful one;\" that so there naturally arose that domination of the eldest\nwhich characterizes all history, and that theory of human degeneracy which\neven yet survives.\n\nWe might further dwell on the facts, that _Lord_ signifies high-born, or,\nas the same root gives a word meaning heaven, possibly heaven-born; that,\nbefore it became common, _Sir_ or _Sire_, as well as _Father_, was the\ndistinction of a priest; that _worship_, originally worth-ship--a term of\nrespect that has been used commonly, as well as to magistrates--is also our\nterm for the act of attributing greatness or worth to the Deity; so that to\nascribe worth-ship to a man is to worship him. We might make much of the\nevidence that all early governments are more or less distinctly theocratic;\nand that among ancient Eastern nations even the commonest forms and customs\nappear to have been influenced by religion. We might enforce our argument\nrespecting the derivation of ceremonies, by tracing out the aboriginal\nobeisance made by putting dust on the head, which probably symbolizes\nputting the head in the dust: by affiliating the practice prevailing among\ncertain tribes, of doing another honour by presenting him with a portion of\nhair torn from the head--an act which seems tantamount to saying, \"I am\nyour slave;\" by investigating the Oriental custom of giving to a visitor\nany object he speaks of admiringly, which is pretty clearly a carrying out\nthe compliment, \"All I have is yours.\"\n\nWithout enlarging, however, on these and many minor facts, we venture to\nthink that the evidence already assigned is sufficient to justify our\nposition. Had the proofs been few or of one kind, little faith could have\nbeen placed in the inference. But numerous as they are, alike in the case\nof titles, in that of complimentary phrases, and in that of\nsalutes--similar and simultaneous, too, as the process of depreciation has\nbeen in all of these; the evidences become strong by mutual confirmation.\nAnd when we recollect, also, that not only have the results of this process\nbeen visible in various nations and in all times, but that they are\noccurring among ourselves at the present moment, and that the causes\nassigned for previous depreciations may be seen daily working out other\nones--when we recollect this, it becomes scarcely possible to doubt that\nthe process has been as alleged; and that our ordinary words, acts, and\nphrases of civility were originally acknowledgments of submission to\nanother's omnipotence.\n\nThus the general doctrine, that all kinds of government exercised over men\nwere at first one government--that the political, the religious, and the\nceremonial forms of control are divergent branches of a general and once\nindivisible control--begins to look tenable. When, with the above facts\nfresh in mind, we read primitive records, and find that \"there were giants\nin those days\"--when we remember that in Eastern traditions Nimrod, among\nothers, figures in all the characters of giant, king, and divinity--when we\nturn to the sculptures exhumed by Mr. Layard, and contemplating in them the\neffigies of kings driving over enemies, trampling on prisoners, and adored\nby prostrate slaves, then observe how their actions correspond to the\nprimitive names for the divinity, \"the strong,\" \"the destroyer,\" \"the\npowerful one\"--when we find that the earliest temples were also the\nresidences of the kings--and when, lastly, we discover that among races of\nmen still living, there are current superstitions analogous to those which\nold records and old buildings indicate; we begin to realize the probability\nof the hypothesis that has been set forth.\n\nGoing back, in imagination, to the remote era when men's theories of things\nwere yet unformed; and conceiving to ourselves the conquering chief as\ndimly figured in ancient myths, and poems, and ruins; we may see that all\nrules of conduct whatever spring from his will. Alike legislator and judge,\nall quarrels among his subjects are decided by him; and his words become\nthe Law. Awe of him is the incipient Religion; and his maxims furnish its\nfirst precepts. Submission is made to him in the forms he prescribes; and\nthese give birth to Manners. From the first, time develops political\nallegiance and the administration of justice; from the second, the worship\nof a being whose personality becomes ever more vague, and the inculcation\nof precepts ever more abstract; from the third, forms of honour and the\nrules of etiquette.\n\nIn conformity with the law of evolution of all organized bodies, that\ngeneral functions are gradually separated into the special functions\nconstituting them, there have grown up in the social organism for the\nbetter performance of the governmental office, an apparatus of law-courts,\njudges, and barristers; a national church, with its bishops and priests;\nand a system of caste, titles, and ceremonies, administered by society at\nlarge. By the first, overt aggressions are cognized and punished; by the\nsecond, the disposition to commit such aggressions is in some degree\nchecked; by the third, those minor breaches of good conduct, which the\nothers do not notice, are denounced and chastised. Law and Religion control\nbehaviour in its essentials: Manners control it in its details. For\nregulating those daily actions which are too numerous and too unimportant\nto be officially directed, there comes into play this subtler set of\nrestraints. And when we consider what these restraints are--when we analyze\nthe words, and phrases, and salutes employed, we see that in origin as in\neffect, the system is a setting up of temporary governments between all men\nwho come in contact, for the purpose of better managing the intercourse\nbetween them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFrom the proposition, that these several kinds of government are\nessentially one, both in genesis and function, may be deduced several\nimportant corollaries, directly bearing on our special topic.\n\nLet us first notice, that there is not only a common origin and office for\nall forms of rule, but a common necessity for them. The aboriginal man,\ncoming fresh from the killing of bears and from lying in ambush for his\nenemy, has, by the necessities of his condition, a nature requiring to be\ncurbed in its every impulse. Alike in war and in the chase, his daily\ndiscipline has been that of sacrificing other creatures to his own needs\nand passions. His character, bequeathed to him by ancestors who led similar\nlives, is moulded by this discipline--is fitted to this existence. The\nunlimited selfishness, the love of inflicting pain, the bloodthirstiness,\nthus kept active, he brings with him into the social state. These\ndispositions put him in constant danger of conflict with his equally savage\nneighbour. In small things as in great, in words as in deeds, he is\naggressive; and is hourly liable to the aggressions of others like natured.\nOnly, therefore, by the most rigorous control exercised over all actions,\ncan the primitive unions of men be maintained. There must be a ruler\nstrong, remorseless, and of indomitable will; there must be a creed\nterrible in its threats to the disobedient; and there must be the most\nservile submission of all inferiors to superiors. The law must be cruel;\nthe religion must be stern; the ceremonies must be strict.\n\nThe co-ordinate necessity for these several kinds of restraint might be\nlargely illustrated from history were there space. Suffice it to point out,\nthat where the civil power has been weak, the multiplication of thieves,\nassassins, and banditti, has indicated the approach of social dissolution;\nthat when, from the corruptness of its ministry, religion has lost its\ninfluence, as it did just before the Flagellants appeared, the State has\nbeen endangered; and that the disregard of established social observances\nhas ever been an accompaniment of political revolutions. Whoever doubts the\nnecessity for a government of manners proportionate in strength to the\nco-existing political and religious governments, will be convinced on\ncalling to mind that until recently even elaborate codes of behaviour\nfailed to keep gentlemen from quarrelling in the streets and fighting duels\nin taverns; and on remembering further, that even now people exhibit at the\ndoors of a theatre, where there is no ceremonial law to rule them, a degree\nof aggressiveness which would produce confusion if carried into social\nintercourse.\n\nAs might be expected, we find that, having a common origin and like general\nfunctions, these several controlling agencies act during each era with\nsimilar degrees of vigour. Under the Chinese despotism, stringent and\nmultitudinous in its edicts and harsh in the enforcement of them, and\nassociated with which there is an equally stern domestic despotism\nexercised by the eldest surviving male of the family, there exists a system\nof observances alike complicated and rigid. There is a tribunal of\nceremonies. Previous to presentation at court, ambassadors pass many days\nin practising the required forms. Social intercourse is cumbered by endless\ncompliments and obeisances. Class distinctions are strongly marked by\nbadges. The chief regret on losing an only son is, that there will be no\none to perform the sepulchral rites. And if there wants a definite measure\nof the respect paid to social ordinances, we have it in the torture to\nwhich ladies submit in having their feet crushed. In India, and indeed\nthroughout the East, there exists a like connection between the pitiless\ntyranny of rulers, the dread terrors of immemorial creeds, and the rigid\nrestraint of unchangeable customs: the caste regulations continue still\nunalterable; the fashions of clothes and furniture have remained the same\nfor ages; suttees are so ancient as to be mentioned by Strabo and Diodorus\nSiculus; justice is still administered at the palace-gates as of old; in\nshort, \"every usage is a precept of religion and a maxim of jurisprudence.\"\n\nA similar relationship of phenomena was exhibited in Europe during the\nMiddle Ages. While all its governments were autocratic, while feudalism\nheld sway, while the Church was unshorn of its power, while the criminal\ncode was full of horrors and the hell of the popular creed full of terrors,\nthe rules of behaviour were both more numerous and more carefully conformed\nto than now. Differences of dress marked divisions of rank. Men were\nlimited by law to a certain width of shoe-toes; and no one below a\nspecified degree might wear a cloak less than so many inches long. The\nsymbols on banners and shields were carefully attended to. Heraldry was an\nimportant branch of knowledge. Precedence was strictly insisted on. And\nthose various salutes of which we now use the abridgments were gone through\nin full. Even during our own last century, with its corrupt House of\nCommons and little-curbed monarchs, we may mark a correspondence of social\nformalities. Gentlemen were still distinguished from lower classes by\ndress; people sacrificed themselves to inconvenient requirements--as\npowder, hooped petticoats, and towering head-dresses; and children\naddressed their parents as _Sir_ and _Madam_.\n\nA further corollary naturally following this last, and almost, indeed,\nforming part of it, is, that these several kinds of government\ndecrease in stringency at the same rate. Simultaneously with the\ndecline in the influence of priesthoods, and in the fear of eternal\ntorments--simultaneously with the mitigation of political tyranny, the\ngrowth of popular power, and the amelioration of criminal codes; has taken\nplace that diminution of formalities and that fading of distinctive marks,\nnow so observable. Looking at home, we may note that there is less\nattention to precedence than there used to be. No one in our day ends an\ninterview with the phrase \"your humble servant.\" The employment of the word\n_Sir_, once general in social intercourse, is at present considered bad\nbreeding; and on the occasions calling for them, it is held vulgar to use\nthe words \"Your Majesty,\" or \"Your Royal Highness,\" more than once in a\nconversation. People no longer formally drink each other's healths; and\neven the taking wine with each other at dinner has ceased to be\nfashionable. The taking-off of hats between gentlemen has been gradually\nfalling into disuse. Even when the hat is removed, it is no longer swept\nout at arm's length, but is simply lifted. Hence the remark made upon us by\nforeigners, that we take off our hats less than any other nation in\nEurope--a remark that should be coupled with the other, that we are the\nfreest nation in Europe.\n\nAs already implied, this association of facts is not accidental. These\ntitles of address and modes of salutation, bearing about them, as they all\ndo, something of that servility which marks their origin, become\ndistasteful in proportion as men become more independent themselves, and\nsympathise more with the independence of others. The feeling which makes\nthe modern gentleman tell the labourer standing bareheaded before him to\nput on his hat--the feeling which gives us a dislike to those who cringe\nand fawn--the feeling which makes us alike assert our own dignity and\nrespect that of others--the feeling which thus leads us more and more to\ndiscountenance all forms and names which confess inferiority and\nsubmission; is the same feeling which resists despotic power and\ninaugurates popular government, denies the authority of the Church and\nestablishes the right of private judgment.\n\nA fourth fact, akin to the foregoing, is, that these several kinds of\ngovernment not only decline together, but corrupt together. By the same\nprocess that a Court of Chancery becomes a place not for the administration\nof justice, but for the withholding of it--by the same process that a\nnational church, from being an agency for moral control, comes to be merely\na thing of formulas and tithes and bishoprics--by this same process do\ntitles and ceremonies that once had a meaning and a power become empty\nforms.\n\nCoats of arms which served to distinguish men in battle, now figure on the\ncarriage panels of retired grocers. Once a badge of high military rank, the\nshoulder-knot has become, on the modern footman, a mark of servitude. The\nname Banneret, which once marked a partially-created Baron--a Baron who had\npassed his military \"little go\"--is now, under the modification of Baronet,\napplicable to any one favoured by wealth or interest or party feeling.\nKnighthood has so far ceased to be an honour, that men now honour\nthemselves by declining it. The military dignity _Escuyer_ has, in the\nmodern Esquire, become a wholly unmilitary affix. Not only do titles, and\nphrases, and salutes cease to fulfil their original functions, but the\nwhole apparatus of social forms tends to become useless for its original\npurpose--the facilitation of social intercourse. Those most learned in\nceremonies, and most precise in the observance of them, are not always the\nbest behaved; as those deepest read in creeds and scriptures are not\ntherefore the most religious; nor those who have the clearest notions of\nlegality and illegality, the most honest. Just as lawyers are of all men\nthe least noted for probity; as cathedral towns have a lower moral\ncharacter than most others; so, if Swift is to be believed, courtiers are\n\"the most insignificant race of people that the island can afford, and with\nthe smallest tincture of good manners.\"\n\nBut perhaps it is in that class of social observances comprehended under\nthe term Fashion, which we must here discuss parenthetically, that this\nprocess of corruption is seen with the greatest distinctness. As contrasted\nwith Manners, which dictate our minor acts in relation to other persons,\nFashion dictates our minor acts in relation to ourselves. While the one\nprescribes that part of our deportment which directly affects our\nneighbours; the other prescribes that part of our deportment which is\nprimarily personal, and in which our neighbours are concerned only as\nspectators. Thus distinguished as they are, however, the two have a common\nsource. For while, as we have shown, Manners originate by imitation of the\nbehaviour pursued _towards_ the great; Fashion originates by imitation _of_\nthe behaviour of the great. While the one has its derivation in the titles,\nphrases, and salutes used _to_ those in power; the other is derived from\nthe habits and appearances exhibited _by_ those in power.\n\nThe Carib mother who squeezes her child's head into a shape like that of\nthe chief; the young savage who makes marks on himself similar to the scars\ncarried by the warriors of his tribe (which is probably the origin of\ntattooing); the Highlander who adopts the plaid worn by the head of his\nclan; the courtiers who affect greyness, or limp, or cover their necks, in\nimitation of their king; and the people who ape the courtiers; are alike\nacting under a kind of government connate with that of Manners, and, like\nit too, primarily beneficial. For notwithstanding the numberless\nabsurdities into which this copyism has led the people, from nose-rings to\near-rings, from painted faces to beauty-spots, from shaven heads to\npowdered wigs, from filed teeth and stained nails to bell-girdles, peaked\nshoes, and breeches stuffed with bran,--it must yet be concluded, that as\nthe strong men, the successful men, the men of will, intelligence, and\noriginality, who have got to the top, are, on the average, more likely to\nshow judgment in their habits and tastes than the mass, the imitation of\nsuch is advantageous.\n\nBy and by, however, Fashion, corrupting like these other forms of rule,\nalmost wholly ceases to be an imitation of the best, and becomes an\nimitation of quite other than the best. As those who take orders are not\nthose having a special fitness for the priestly office, but those who see\ntheir way to a living by it; as legislators and public functionaries do not\nbecome such by virtue of their political insight and power to rule, but by\nvirtue of birth, acreage, and class influence; so, the self-elected clique\nwho set the fashion, gain this prerogative, not by their force of nature,\ntheir intellect, their higher worth or better taste, but gain it solely by\ntheir unchecked assumption. Among the initiated are to be found neither the\nnoblest in rank, the chief in power, the best cultured, the most refined,\nnor those of greatest genius, wit, or beauty; and their reunions, so far\nfrom being superior to others, are noted for their inanity. Yet, by the\nexample of these sham great, and not by that of the truly great, does\nsociety at large now regulate its goings and comings, its hours, its dress,\nits small usages. As a natural consequence, these have generally little or\nnone of that suitableness which the theory of fashion implies they should\nhave. But instead of a continual progress towards greater elegance and\nconvenience, which might be expected to occur did people copy the ways of\nthe really best, or follow their own ideas of propriety, we have a reign of\nmere whim, of unreason, of change for the sake of change, of wanton\noscillations from either extreme to the other--a reign of usages without\nmeaning, times without fitness, dress without taste. And thus life _a la\nmode_, instead of being life conducted in the most rational manner, is life\nregulated by spendthrifts and idlers, milliners and tailors, dandies and\nsilly women.\n\nTo these several corollaries--that the various orders of control exercised\nover men have a common origin and a common function, are called out by\nco-ordinate necessities and co-exist in like stringency, decline together\nand corrupt together--it now only remains to add that they become needless\ntogether. Consequent as all kinds of government are upon the unfitness of\nthe aboriginal man for social life; and diminishing in coerciveness as they\nall do in proportion as this unfitness diminishes; they must one and all\ncome to an end as humanity acquires complete adaptation to its new\nconditions. That discipline of circumstances which has already wrought out\nsuch great changes in us, must go on eventually to work out yet greater\nones. That daily curbing of the lower nature and culture of the higher,\nwhich out of cannibals and devil worshippers has evolved philanthropists,\nlovers of peace, and haters of superstition, cannot fail to evolve out of\nthese, men as much superior to them as they are to their progenitors. The\ncauses that have produced past modifications are still in action; must\ncontinue in action as long as there exists any incongruity between man's\ndesires and the requirements of the social state; and must eventually make\nhim organically fit for the social state. As it is now needless to forbid\nman-eating and Fetishism, so will it ultimately become needless to forbid\nmurder, theft, and the minor offences of our criminal code. When human\nnature has grown into conformity with the moral law, there will need no\njudges and statute-books; when it spontaneously takes the right course in\nall things, as in some things it does already, prospects of future reward\nor punishment will not be wanted as incentives; and when fit behaviour has\nbecome instinctive, there will need no code of ceremonies to say how\nbehaviour shall be regulated.\n\nThus, then, may be recognised the meaning, the naturalness, the necessity\nof those various eccentricities of reformers which we set out by\ndescribing. They are not accidental; they are not mere personal caprices,\nas people are apt to suppose. On the contrary, they are inevitable results\nof the law of relationship above illustrated. That community of genesis,\nfunction, and decay which all forms of restraint exhibit, is simply the\nobverse of the fact at first pointed out, that they have in two sentiments\nof human nature a common preserver and a common destroyer. Awe of power\noriginates and cherishes them all: love of freedom undermines and\nperiodically weakens them all. The one defends despotism and asserts the\nsupremacy of laws, adheres to old creeds and supports ecclesiastical\nauthority, pays respect to titles and conserves forms; the other, putting\nrectitude above legality, achieves periodical instalments of political\nliberty, inaugurates Protestantism and works out its consequences, ignores\nthe senseless dictates of Fashion and emancipates men from dead customs.\n\nTo the true reformer no institution is sacred, no belief above criticism.\nEverything shall conform itself to equity and reason; nothing shall be\nsaved by its prestige. Conceding to each man liberty to pursue his own ends\nand satisfy his own tastes, he demands for himself like liberty; and\nconsents to no restrictions on this, save those which other men's equal\nclaims involve. No matter whether it be an ordinance of one man, or an\nordinance of all men, if it trenches on his legitimate sphere of action, he\ndenies its validity. The tyranny that would impose on him a particular\nstyle of dress and a set mode of behaviour, he resists equally with the\ntyranny that would limit his buyings and sellings, or dictate his creed.\nWhether the regulation be formally made by a legislature, or informally\nmade by society at large--whether the penalty for disobedience be\nimprisonment, or frowns and social ostracism, he sees to be a question of\nno moment. He will utter his belief notwithstanding the threatened\npunishment; he will break conventions spite of the petty persecutions that\nwill be visited on him. Show him that his actions are inimical to his\nfellow-men, and he will pause. Prove that he is disregarding their\nlegitimate claims--that he is doing what in the nature of things must\nproduce unhappiness; and he will alter his course. But until you do\nthis--until you demonstrate that his proceedings are essentially\ninconvenient or inelegant, essentially irrational, unjust, or ungenerous,\nhe will persevere.\n\nSome, indeed, argue that his conduct _is_ unjust and ungenerous. They say\nthat he has no right to annoy other people by his whims; that the gentleman\nto whom his letter comes with no \"Esq.\" appended to the address, and the\nlady whose evening party he enters with gloveless hands, are vexed at what\nthey consider his want of respect, or want of breeding; that thus his\neccentricities cannot be indulged save at the expense of his neighbours'\nfeelings; and that hence his nonconformity is in plain terms selfishness.\n\nHe answers that this position, if logically developed, would deprive men of\nall liberty whatever. Each must conform all his acts to the public taste,\nand not his own. The public taste on every point having been once\nascertained, men's habits must thenceforth remain for ever fixed; seeing\nthat no man can adopt other habits without sinning against the public\ntaste, and giving people disagreeable feelings. Consequently, be it an era\nof pig-tails or high-heeled shoes, of starched ruffs or trunk-hose, all\nmust continue to wear pig-tails, high-heeled shoes, starched ruffs, or\ntrunk-hose to the crack of doom.\n\nIf it be still urged that he is not justified in breaking through others'\nforms that he may establish his own, and so sacrificing the wishes of many\nto the wishes of one, he replies that all religious and political changes\nmight be negatived on like grounds. He asks whether Luther's sayings and\ndoings were not extremely offensive to the mass of his contemporaries;\nwhether the resistance of Hampden was not disgusting to the time-servers\naround him; whether every reformer has not shocked men's prejudices, and\ngiven immense displeasure by the opinions he uttered. The affirmative\nanswer he follows up by demanding what right the reformer has, then, to\nutter these opinions; whether he is not sacrificing the feelings of many to\nthe feelings of one: and so proves that, to be consistent, his antagonists\nmust condemn not only all nonconformity in actions, but all nonconformity\nin thoughts.\n\nHis antagonists rejoin that _his_ position, too, may be pushed to an\nabsurdity. They argue that if a man may offend by the disregard of some\nforms, he may as legitimately do so by the disregard of all; and they\ninquire--Why should he not go out to dinner in a dirty shirt, and with an\nunshorn chin? Why should he not spit on the drawing-room carpet, and\nstretch his heels up to the mantel-shelf?\n\nThe convention-breaker answers, that to ask this, implies a confounding of\ntwo widely-different classes of actions--the actions that are _essentially_\ndispleasurable to those around, with the actions that are but\n_incidentally_ displeasurable to them. He whose skin is so unclean as to\noffend the nostrils of his neighbours, or he who talks so loudly as to\ndisturb a whole room, may be justly complained of, and rightly excluded by\nsociety from its assemblies. But he who presents himself in a surtout in\nplace of a dress-coat, or in brown trousers instead of black, gives offence\nnot to men's senses, or their innate tastes, but merely to their\nprejudices, their bigotry of convention. It cannot be said that his costume\nis less elegant or less intrinsically appropriate than the one prescribed;\nseeing that a few hours earlier in the day it is admired. It is the implied\nrebellion, therefore, that annoys. How little the cause of quarrel has to\ndo with the dress itself, is seen in the fact that a century ago black\nclothes would have been thought preposterous for hours of recreation, and\nthat a few years hence some now forbidden style may be nearer the\nrequirements of Fashion than the present one. Thus the reformer explains\nthat it is not against the natural restraints, but against the artificial\nones, that he protests; and that manifestly the fire of sneers and angry\nglances which he has to bear, is poured upon him because he will not bow\ndown to the idol which society has set up.\n\nShould he be asked how we are to distinguish between conduct that is\n_absolutely_ disagreeable to others, and conduct that is _relatively_ so,\nhe answers, that they will distinguish themselves, if men will let them.\nActions intrinsically repugnant will ever be frowned upon, and must ever\nremain as exceptional as now. Actions not intrinsically repugnant will\nestablish themselves as proper. No relaxation of customs will introduce the\npractice of going to a party in muddy boots, and with unwashed hands; for\nthe dislike of dirt would continue were Fashion abolished to-morrow. That\nlove of approbation which now makes people so solicitous to be _en regle_\nwould still exist--would still make them careful of their personal\nappearance--would still induce them to seek admiration by making themselves\nornamental--would still cause them to respect the natural laws of good\nbehaviour, as they now do the artificial ones. The change would simply be\nfrom a repulsive monotony to a picturesque variety. And if there be any\nregulations respecting which it is uncertain whether they are based on\nreality or on convention, experiment will soon decide, if due scope be\nallowed.\n\nWhen at length the controversy comes round, as controversies often do, to\nthe point whence it started, and the \"party of order\" repeat their charge\nagainst the rebel, that he is sacrificing the feelings of others to the\ngratification of his own wilfulness, he replies once for all that they\ncheat themselves by mis-statements. He accuses them of being so despotic,\nthat, not content with being masters over their own ways and habits, they\nwould be masters over his also; and grumble because he will not let them.\nHe merely asks the same freedom which they exercise; they, however, propose\nto regulate his course as well as their own--to cut and clip his mode of\nlife into agreement with their approved pattern; and then charge him with\nwilfulness and selfishness, because he does not quietly submit! He warns\nthem that he shall resist, nevertheless; and that he shall do so, not only\nfor the assertion of his own independence, but for their good. He tells\nthem that they are slaves, and know it not; that they are shackled, and\nkiss their chains; that they have lived all their days in prison, and\ncomplain at the walls being broken down. He says he must persevere,\nhowever, with a view to his own release; and in spite of their present\nexpostulations, he prophesies that when they have recovered from the fright\nwhich the prospect of freedom produces, they will thank him for aiding in\ntheir emancipation.\n\nUnamiable as seems this find-fault mood, offensive as is this defiant\nattitude, we must beware of overlooking the truths enunciated, in dislike\nof the advocacy. It is an unfortunate hindrance to all innovation, that in\nvirtue of their very function, the innovators stand in a position of\nantagonism; and the disagreeable manners, and sayings, and doings, which\nthis antagonism generates, are commonly associated with the doctrines\npromulgated. Quite forgetting that whether the thing attacked be good or\nbad, the combative spirit is necessarily repulsive; and quite forgetting\nthat the toleration of abuses seems amiable merely from its passivity; the\nmass of men contract a bias against advanced views, and in favour of\nstationary ones, from intercourse with their respective adherents.\n\"Conservatism,\" as Emerson says, \"is debonnair and social; reform is\nindividual and imperious.\" And this remains true, however vicious the\nsystem conserved, however righteous the reform to be effected. Nay, the\nindignation of the purists is usually extreme in proportion as the evils to\nbe got rid of are great. The more urgent the required change, the more\nintemperate is the vehemence of its promoters. Let no one, then, confound\nwith the principles of this social nonconformity the acerbity and the\ndisagreeable self-assertion of those who first display it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe most plausible objection raised against resistance to conventions, is\ngrounded on its impolicy, considered even from the progressist's point of\nview. It is urged by many of the more liberal and intelligent--usually\nthose who have themselves shown some independence of behaviour in earlier\ndays--that to rebel in these small matters is to destroy your own power of\nhelping on reform in greater matters. \"If you show yourself eccentric in\nmanners or dress, the world,\" they say, \"will not listen to you. You will\nbe considered as crotchety, and impracticable. The opinions you express on\nimportant subjects, which might have been treated with respect had you\nconformed on minor points, will now inevitably be put down among your\nsingularities; and thus, by dissenting in trifles, you disable yourself\nfrom spreading dissent in essentials.\"\n\nOnly noting, as we pass, that this is one of those anticipations which\nbring about their own fulfilment--that it is because most who disapprove\nthese conventions do not show their disapproval, that the few who do show\nit look eccentric--and that did all act out their convictions, no such\ninference as the above would be drawn, and no such evil would\nresult;---noting this as we pass, we go on to reply that these social\nrestraints, and forms, and requirements, are not small evils, but among the\ngreatest. Estimate their sum total, and we doubt whether they would not\nexceed most others. Could we add up the trouble, the cost, the jealousies,\nvexations, misunderstandings, the loss of time and the loss of pleasure,\nwhich these conventions entail--could we clearly realize the extent to\nwhich we are all daily hampered by them, daily enslaved by them; we should\nperhaps come to the conclusion that the tyranny of Mrs. Grundy is worse\nthan any other tyranny we suffer under. Let us look at a few of its hurtful\nresults; beginning with those of minor importance.\n\nIt produces extravagance. The desire to be _comme il faut_, which underlies\nall conformities, whether of manners, dress, or styles of entertainment, is\nthe desire which makes many a spendthrift and many a bankrupt. To \"keep up\nappearances,\" to have a house in an approved quarter furnished in the\nlatest taste, to give expensive dinners and crowded _soirees_, is an\nambition forming the natural outcome of the conformist spirit. It is\nneedless to enlarge on these follies: they have been satirized by hosts of\nwriters, and in every drawing-room. All that here concerns us, is to point\nout that the respect for social observances, which men think so\npraiseworthy, has the same root with this effort to be fashionable in mode\nof living; and that, other things equal, the last cannot be diminished\nwithout the first being diminished also. If, now, we consider all that this\nextravagance entails--if we count up the robbed tradesmen, the stinted\ngovernesses, the ill-educated children, the fleeced relatives, who have to\nsuffer from it--if we mark the anxiety and the many moral delinquencies\nwhich its perpetrators involve themselves in; we shall see that this regard\nfor conventions is not quite so innocent as it looks.\n\nAgain, it decreases the amount of social intercourse. Passing over the\nreckless, and those who make a great display on speculation with the\noccasional result of getting on in the world to the exclusion of much\nbetter men, we come to the far larger class who, being prudent and honest\nenough not to exceed their means, and yet having a strong wish to be\n\"respectable,\" are obliged to limit their entertainments to the smallest\npossible number; and that each of these may be turned to the greatest\nadvantage in meeting the claims upon their hospitality, are induced to\nissue their invitations with little or no regard to the comfort or mutual\nfitness of their guests. A few inconveniently-large assemblies, made up of\npeople mostly strange to each other or but distantly acquainted, and having\nscarcely any tastes in common, are made to serve in place of many small\nparties of friends intimate enough to have some bond of thought and\nsympathy. Thus the quantity of intercourse is diminished, and the quality\ndeteriorated. Because it is the custom to make costly preparations and\nprovide costly refreshments; and because it entails both less expense and\nless trouble to do this for many persons on a few occasions than for few\npersons on many occasions; the reunions of our less wealthy classes are\nrendered alike infrequent and tedious.\n\nLet it be further observed, that the existing formalities of social\nintercourse drive away many who most need its refining influence: and drive\nthem into injurious habits and associations. Not a few men, and not the\nleast sensible men either, give up in disgust this going out to stately\ndinners, and stiff evening-parties; and instead, seek society in clubs, and\ncigar-divans, and taverns. \"I'm sick of this standing about in\ndrawing-rooms, talking nonsense, and trying to look happy,\" will answer one\nof them when taxed with his desertion. \"Why should I any longer waste time\nand money, and temper? Once I was ready enough to rush home from the office\nto dress; I sported embroidered shirts, submitted to tight boots, and cared\nnothing for tailors' and haberdashers' bills. I know better now. My\npatience lasted a good while; for though I found each night pass stupidly,\nI always hoped the next would make amends. But I'm undeceived. Cab-hire and\nkid gloves cost more than any evening party pays for; or rather--it is\nworth the cost of them to avoid the party. No, no; I'll no more of it. Why\nshould I pay five shillings a time for the privilege of being bored?\"\n\nIf, now, we consider that this very common mood tends towards\nbilliard-rooms, towards long sittings over cigars and brandy-and-water,\ntowards Evans's and the Coal Hole, towards every place where amusement may\nbe had; it becomes a question whether these precise observances which\nhamper our set meetings, have not to answer for much of the prevalent\ndissoluteness. Men must have excitements of some kind or other; and if\ndebarred from higher ones will fall back upon lower. It is not that those\nwho thus take to irregular habits are essentially those of low tastes.\nOften it is quite the reverse. Among half a dozen intimate friends,\nabandoning formalities and sitting at ease round the fire, none will enter\nwith greater enjoyment into the highest kind of social intercourse--the\ngenuine communion of thought and feeling; and if the circle includes women\nof intelligence and refinement, so much the greater is their pleasure. It\nis because they will no longer be choked with the mere dry husks of\nconversation which society offers them, that they fly its assemblies, and\nseek those with whom they may have discourse that is at least real, though\nunpolished. The men who thus long for substantial mental sympathy, and will\ngo where they can get it, are often, indeed, much better at the core than\nthe men who are content with the inanities of gloved and scented\nparty-goers--men who feel no need to come morally nearer to their fellow\ncreatures than they can come while standing, tea-cup in hand, answering\ntrifles with trifles; and who, by feeling no such need, prove themselves\nshallow-thoughted and cold-hearted.\n\nIt is true, that some who shun drawing-rooms do so from inability to bear\nthe restraints prescribed by a genuine refinement, and that they would be\ngreatly improved by being kept under these restraints. But it is not less\ntrue that, by adding to the legitimate restraints, which are based on\nconvenience and a regard for others, a host of factitious restraints based\nonly on convention, the refining discipline, which would else have been\nborne with benefit, is rendered unbearable, and so misses its end. Excess\nof government variably defeats itself by driving away those to be governed.\nAnd if over all who desert its entertainments in disgust either at their\nemptiness or their formality, society thus loses its salutary influence--if\nsuch not only fail to receive that moral culture which the company of\nladies, when rationally regulated, would give them, but, in default of\nother relaxation, are driven into habits and companionships which often end\nin gambling and drunkenness; must we not say that here, too, is an evil not\nto be passed over as insignificant?\n\nThen consider what a blighting effect these multitudinous preparations and\nceremonies have upon the pleasures they profess to subserve. Who, on\ncalling to mind the occasions of his highest social enjoyments, does not\nfind them to have been wholly informal, perhaps impromptu? How delightful a\npicnic of friends, who forget all observances save those dictated by good\nnature! How pleasant the little unpretended gatherings of book-societies,\nand the like; or those purely accidental meetings of a few people well\nknown to each other! Then, indeed, we may see that \"a man sharpeneth the\ncountenance of his friend.\" Cheeks flush, and eyes sparkle. The witty grow\nbrilliant, and even the dull are excited into saying good things. There is\nan overflow of topics; and the right thought, and the right words to put it\nin, spring up unsought. Grave alternates with gay: now serious converse,\nand now jokes, anecdotes, and playful raillery. Everyone's best nature is\nshown; everyone's best feelings are in pleasurable activity; and, for the\ntime, life seems well worth having.\n\nGo now and dress for some half-past eight dinner, or some ten o'clock \"at\nhome;\" and present yourself in spotless attire, with every hair arranged to\nperfection. How great the difference! The enjoyment seems in the inverse\nratio of the preparation. These figures, got up with such finish and\nprecision, appear but half alive. They have frozen each other by their\nprimness; and your faculties feel the numbing effects of the atmosphere the\nmoment you enter it. All those thoughts, so nimble and so apt awhile since,\nhave disappeared--have suddenly acquired a preternatural power of eluding\nyou. If you venture a remark to your neighbour, there comes a trite\nrejoinder, and there it ends. No subject you can hit upon outlives half a\ndozen sentences. Nothing that is said excites any real interest in you; and\nyou feel that all you say is listened to with apathy. By some strange\nmagic, things that usually give pleasure seem to have lost all charm.\n\nYou have a taste for art. Weary of frivolous talk, you turn to the table,\nand find that the book of engravings and the portfolio of photographs are\nas flat as the conversation. You are fond of music. Yet the singing, good\nas it is, you hear with utter indifference; and say \"Thank you\" with a\nsense of being a profound hypocrite. Wholly at ease though you could be,\nfor your own part, you find that your sympathies will not let you. You see\nyoung gentlemen feeling whether their ties are properly adjusted, looking\nvacantly round, and considering what they shall do next. You see ladies\nsitting disconsolately, waiting for some one to speak to them, and wishing\nthey had the wherewith to occupy their fingers. You see the hostess\nstanding about the doorway, keeping a factitious smile on her face, and\nracking her brain to find the requisite nothings with which to greet her\nguests as they enter. You see numberless traits of weariness and\nembarrassment; and, if you have any fellow feeling, these cannot fail to\nproduce a feeling of discomfort. The disorder is catching; and do what you\nwill you cannot resist the general infection. You struggle against it; you\nmake spasmodic efforts to be lively; but none of your sallies or your good\nstories do more than raise a simper or a forced laugh: intellect and\nfeeling are alike asphyxiated. And when, at length, yielding to your\ndisgust, you rush away, how great is the relief when you get into the fresh\nair, and see the stars! How you \"Thank God, that's over!\" and half resolve\nto avoid all such boredom for the future!\n\nWhat, now, is the secret of this perpetual miscarriage and disappointment?\nDoes not the fault lie with all these needless adjuncts--these elaborate\ndressings, these set forms, these expensive preparations, these many\ndevices and arrangements that imply trouble and raise expectation? Who that\nhas lived thirty years in the world has not discovered that Pleasure is\ncoy; and must not be too directly pursued, but must be caught unawares? An\nair from a street-piano, heard while at work, will often gratify more than\nthe choicest music played at a concert by the most accomplished musicians.\nA single good picture seen in a dealer's window, may give keener enjoyment\nthan a whole exhibition gone through with catalogue and pencil. By the time\nwe have got ready our elaborate apparatus by which to secure happiness, the\nhappiness is gone. It is too subtle to be contained in these receivers,\ngarnished with compliments, and fenced round with etiquette. The more we\nmultiply and complicate appliances, the more certain are we to drive it\naway.\n\nThe reason is patent enough. These higher emotions to which social\nintercourse ministers, are of extremely complex nature; they consequently\ndepend for their production upon very numerous conditions; the more\nnumerous the conditions, the greater the liability that one or other of\nthem will be disturbed, and the emotions consequently prevented. It takes a\nconsiderable misfortune to destroy appetite; but cordial sympathy with\nthose around may be extinguished by a look or a word. Hence it follows,\nthat the more multiplied the _unnecessary_ requirements with which social\nintercourse is surrounded, the less likely are its pleasures to be\nachieved. It is difficult enough to fulfil continuously all the\n_essentials_ to a pleasurable communion with others: how much more\ndifficult, then, must it be continuously to fulfil a host of\n_non-essentials_ also! It is, indeed, impossible. The attempt inevitably\nends in the sacrifice of the first to the last--the essentials to the\nnon-essentials. What chance is there of getting any genuine response from\nthe lady who is thinking of your stupidity in taking her in to dinner on\nthe wrong arm? How are you likely to have agreeable converse with the\ngentleman who is fuming internally because he is not placed next to the\nhostess? Formalities, familiar as they may become, necessarily occupy\nattention--necessarily multiply the occasions for mistake,\nmisunderstanding, and jealousy, on the part of one or other--necessarily\ndistract all minds from the thoughts and feelings that should occupy\nthem--necessarily, therefore, subvert those conditions under which only any\nsterling intercourse is to be had.\n\nAnd this indeed is the fatal mischief which these conventions entail--a\nmischief to which every other is secondary. They destroy those highest of\nour pleasures which they profess to subserve. All institutions are alike in\nthis, that however useful, and needful even, they originally were, they not\nonly in the end cease to be so, but become detrimental. While humanity is\ngrowing, they continue fixed; daily get more mechanical and unvital; and by\nand by tend to strangle what they before preserved. It is not simply that\nthey become corrupt and fail to act; they become obstructions. Old forms of\ngovernment finally grow so oppressive, that they must be thrown off even at\nthe risk of reigns of terror. Old creeds end in being dead formulas, which\nno longer aid but distort and arrest the general mind; while the\nState-churches administering them, come to be instruments for subsidizing\nconservatism and repressing progress. Old schemes of education, incarnated\nin public schools and colleges, continue filling the heads of new\ngenerations with what has become relatively useless knowledge, and, by\nconsequence, excluding knowledge which is useful. Not an organization of\nany kind--political, religious, literary, philanthropic--but what, by its\never-multiplying regulations, its accumulating wealth, its yearly addition\nof officers, and the creeping into it of patronage and party feeling,\neventually loses its original spirit, and sinks into a mere lifeless\nmechanism, worked with a view to private ends--a mechanism which not merely\nfails of its first purpose, but is a positive hindrance to it.\n\nThus is it, too, with social usages. We read of the Chinese that they have\n\"ponderous ceremonies transmitted from time immemorial,\" which make social\nintercourse a burden. The court forms prescribed by monarchs for their own\nexaltation, have, in all times and places, ended in consuming the comfort\nof their lives. And so the artificial observances of the dining-room and\nsaloon, in proportion as they are many and strict, extinguish that\nagreeable communion which they were originally intended to secure. The\ndislike with which people commonly speak of society that is \"formal,\" and\n\"stiff,\" and \"ceremonious,\" implies the general recognition of this fact;\nand this recognition, logically developed, involves that all usages of\nbehaviour which are not based on natural requirements, are injurious. That\nthese conventions defeat their own ends is no new assertion. Swift,\ncriticising the manners of his day, says--\"Wise men are often more uneasy\nat the over-civility of these refiners than they could possibly be in the\nconversation of peasants and mechanics.\"\n\nBut it is not only in these details that the self-defeating action of our\narrangements is traceable: it is traceable in the very substance and nature\nof them. Our social intercourse, as commonly managed, is a mere semblance\nof the reality sought. What is it that we want? Some sympathetic converse\nwith our fellow-creatures: some converse that shall not be mere dead words,\nbut the vehicle of living thoughts and feelings--converse in which the eyes\nand the face shall speak, and the tones of the voice be full of\nmeaning--converse which shall make us feel no longer alone, but shall draw\nus closer to another, and double our own emotions by adding another's to\nthem. Who is there that has not, from time to time, felt how cold and flat\nis all this talk about politics and science, and the new books and the new\nmen, and how a genuine utterance of fellow-feeling outweighs the whole of\nit? Mark the words of Bacon:--\"For a crowd is not a company, and faces are\nbut a gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is\nno love.\"\n\nIf this be true, then it is only after acquaintance has grown into\nintimacy, and intimacy has ripened into friendship, that the real communion\nwhich men need becomes possible. A rationally-formed circle must consist\nalmost wholly of those on terms of familiarity and regard, with but one or\ntwo strangers. What folly, then, underlies the whole system of our grand\ndinners, our \"at homes,\" our evening parties--assemblages made up of many\nwho never met before, many others who just bow to each other, many others\nwho though familiar feel mutual indifference, with just a few real friends\nlost in the general mass! You need but look round at the artificial\nexpressions of face, to see at once how it is. All have their disguises on;\nand how can there be sympathy between masks? No wonder that in private\nevery one exclaims against the stupidity of these gatherings. No wonder\nthat hostesses get them up rather because they must than because they wish.\nNo wonder that the invited go less from the expectation of pleasure than\nfrom fear of giving offence. The whole thing is a gigantic mistake--an\norganized disappointment.\n\nAnd then note, lastly, that in this case, as in all others, when an\norganization has become effete and inoperative for its legitimate purpose,\nit is employed for quite other ones--quite opposite ones. What is the usual\nplea put in for giving and attending these tedious assemblies? \"I admit\nthat they are stupid and frivolous enough,\" replies every man to your\ncriticisms; \"but then, you know, one must keep up one's connections.\" And\ncould you get from his wife a sincere answer, it would be--\"Like you, I am\nsick of these frivolities; but then, we must get our daughters married.\"\nThe one knows that there is a profession to push, a practice to gain, a\nbusiness to extend: or parliamentary influence, or county patronage, or\nvotes, or office, to be got: position, berths, favours, profit. The other's\nthoughts runs upon husbands and settlements, wives and dowries. Worthless\nfor their ostensible purpose of daily bringing human beings into\npleasurable relations with each other, these cumbrous appliances of our\nsocial intercourse are now perseveringly kept in action with a view to the\npecuniary and matrimonial results which they indirectly produce.\n\nWho then shall say that the reform of our system of observances is\nunimportant? When we see how this system induces fashionable extravagance,\nwith its entailed bankruptcy and ruin--when we mark how greatly it limits\nthe amount of social intercourse among the less wealthy classes--when we\nfind that many who most need to be disciplined by mixing with the refined\nare driven away by it, and led into dangerous and often fatal courses--when\nwe count up the many minor evils it inflicts, the extra work which its\ncostliness entails on all professional and mercantile men, the damage to\npublic taste in dress and decoration by the setting up of its absurdities\nas standards for imitation, the injury to health indicated in the faces of\nits devotees at the close of the London season, the mortality of milliners\nand the like, which its sudden exigencies yearly involve;--and when to all\nthese we add its fatal sin; that it blights, withers up, and kills, that\nhigh enjoyment it professedly ministers to--that enjoyment which is a chief\nend of our hard struggling in life to obtain--shall we not conclude that to\nreform our system of etiquette and fashion, is an aim yielding to few in\nurgency?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere needs, then, a protestantism in social usages. Forms that have ceased\nto facilitate and have become obstructive--whether political, religious, or\nother--have ever to be swept away; and eventually are so swept away in all\ncases. Signs are not wanting that some change is at hand. A host of\nsatirists, led on by Thackeray, have been for years engaged in bringing our\nsham-festivities, and our fashionable follies, into contempt; and in their\ncandid moods, most men laugh at the frivolities with which they and the\nworld in general are deluded. Ridicule has always been a revolutionary\nagent. That which is habitually assailed with sneers and sarcasms cannot\nlong survive. Institutions that have lost their roots in men's respect and\nfaith are doomed; and the day of their dissolution is not far off. The time\nis approaching, then, when our system of social observances must pass\nthrough some crisis, out of which it will come purified and comparatively\nsimple.\n\nHow this crisis will be brought about, no one can with any certainty say.\nWhether by the continuance and increase of individual protests, or whether\nby the union of many persons for the practice and propagation of some\nbetter system, the future alone can decide. The influence of dissentients\nacting without co-operation, seems, under the present state of things,\ninadequate. Standing severally alone, and having no well-defined views;\nfrowned on by conformists, and expostulated with even by those who secretly\nsympathize with them; subject to petty persecutions, and unable to trace\nany benefit produced by their example; they are apt, one by one, to give up\ntheir attempts as hopeless. The young convention-breaker eventually finds\nthat he pays too heavily for his nonconformity. Hating, for example,\neverything that bears about it any remnant of servility, he determines, in\nthe ardour of his independence, that he will uncover to no one. But what he\nmeans simply as a general protest, he finds that ladies interpret into a\npersonal disrespect. Though he sees that, from the days of chivalry\ndownwards, these marks of supreme consideration paid to the other sex have\nbeen but a hypocritical counterpart to the actual subjection in which men\nhave held them--a pretended submission to compensate for a real domination;\nand though he sees that when the true dignity of women is recognised, the\nmock dignities given to them will be abolished; yet he does not like to be\nthus misunderstood, and so hesitates in his practice.\n\nIn other cases, again, his courage fails him. Such of his\nunconventionalities as can be attributed only to eccentricity, he has no\nqualms about: for, on the whole, he feels rather complimented than\notherwise in being considered a disregarder of public opinion. But when\nthey are liable to be put down to ignorance, to ill-breeding, or to\npoverty, he becomes a coward. However clearly the recent innovation of\neating some kinds of fish with knife and fork proves the fork-and-bread\npractice to have had little but caprice for its basis, yet he dares not\nwholly ignore that practice while fashion partially maintains it. Though he\nthinks that a silk handkerchief is quite as appropriate for drawing-room\nuse as a white cambric one, he is not altogether at ease in acting out his\nopinion. Then, too, he begins to perceive that his resistance to\nprescription brings round disadvantageous results which he had not\ncalculated upon. He had expected that it would save him from a great deal\nof social intercourse of a frivolous kind--that it would offend the fools,\nbut not the sensible people; and so would serve as a self-acting test by\nwhich those worth knowing would be separated from those not worth knowing.\nBut the fools prove to be so greatly in the majority that, by offending\nthem, he closes against himself nearly all the avenues though which the\nsensible people are to be reached. Thus he finds, that his nonconformity is\nfrequently misinterpreted; that there are but few directions in which he\ndares to carry it consistently out; that the annoyances and disadvantages\nwhich it brings upon him are greater than he anticipated; and that the\nchances of his doing any good are very remote. Hence he gradually loses\nresolution, and lapses, step by step, into the ordinary routine of\nobservances.\n\nAbortive as individual protests thus generally turn out, it may possibly be\nthat nothing effectual will be done until there arises some organized\nresistance to this invisible despotism, by which our modes and habits are\ndictated. It may happen, that the government of Manners and Fashion will be\nrendered less tyrannical, as the political and religious governments have\nbeen, by some antagonistic union. Alike in Church and State, men's first\nemancipations from excess of restriction were achieved by numbers, bound\ntogether by a common creed or a common political faith. What remained\nundone while there were but individual schismatics or rebels, was effected\nwhen there came to be many acting in concert. It is tolerably clear that\nthese earliest instalments of freedom could not have been obtained in any\nother way; for so long as the feeling of personal independence was weak and\nthe rule strong, there could never have been a sufficient number of\nseparate dissentients to produce the desired results. Only in these later\ntimes, during which the secular and spiritual controls have been growing\nless coercive, and the tendency towards individual liberty greater, has it\nbecome possible for smaller and smaller sects and parties to fight against\nestablished creeds and laws; until now men may safely stand even alone in\ntheir antagonism.\n\nThe failure of individual nonconformity to customs, as above illustrated,\nsuggests that an analogous series of changes may have to be gone through in\nthis case also. It is true that the _lex non scripta_ differs from the _lex\nscripta_ in this, that, being unwritten, it is more readily altered; and\nthat it has, from time to time, been quietly ameliorated. Nevertheless, we\nshall find that the analogy holds substantially good. For in this case, as\nin the others, the essential revolution is not the substituting of any one\nset of restraints for any other, but the limiting or abolishing the\nauthority which prescribes restraints. Just as the fundamental change\ninaugurated by the Reformation, was not a superseding of one creed by\nanother, but an ignoring of the arbiter who before dictated creeds--just as\nthe fundamental change which Democracy long ago commenced, was not from\nthis particular law to that, but from the despotism of one to the freedom\nof all; so, the parallel change yet to be wrought out in this supplementary\ngovernment of which we are treating, is not the replacing of absurd usages\nby sensible ones, but the dethronement of that secret, irresponsible power\nwhich now imposes our usages, and the assertion of the right of all\nindividuals to choose their own usages. In rules of living, a West-end\nclique is our Pope; and we are all papists, with but a mere sprinkling of\nheretics. On all who decisively rebel, comes down the penalty of\nexcommunication, with its long catalogue of disagreeable and, indeed,\nserious consequences.\n\nThe liberty of the subject asserted in our constitution, and ever on the\nincrease, has yet to be wrested from this subtler tyranny. The right of\nprivate judgment, which our ancestors wrung from the church, remains to be\nclaimed from this dictator of our habits. Or, as before said, to free us\nfrom these idolatries and superstitious conformities, there has still to\ncome a protestantism in social usages. Parallel, therefore, as is the\nchange to be wrought out, it seems not improbable that it may be wrought\nout in an analogous way. That influence which solitary dissentients fail to\ngain, and that perseverance which they lack, may come into existence when\nthey unite. That persecution which the world now visits upon them from\nmistaking their nonconformity for ignorance or disrespect, may diminish\nwhen it is seen to result from principle. The penalty which exclusion now\nentails may disappear when they become numerous enough to form visiting\ncircles of their own. And when a successful stand has been made, and the\nbrunt of the opposition has passed, that large amount of secret dislike to\nour observances which now pervades society, may manifest itself with\nsufficient power to effect the desired emancipation.\n\nWhether such will be the process, time alone can decide. That community of\norigin, growth, supremacy, and decadence, which we have found among all\nkinds of government, suggests a community in modes of change also. On the\nother hand, Nature often performs substantially similar operations, in ways\napparently different. Hence these details can never be foretold.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMeanwhile, let us glance at the conclusions that have been reached. On the\none side, government, originally one, and afterwards subdivided for the\nbetter fulfilment of its function, must be considered as having ever been,\nin all its branches--political, religious, and ceremonial--beneficial; and,\nindeed, absolutely necessary. On the other side, government, under all its\nforms, must be regarded as subserving a temporary office, made needful by\nthe unfitness of aboriginal humanity for social life; and the successive\ndiminutions of its coerciveness in State, in Church, and in Custom, must be\nlooked upon as steps towards its final disappearance. To complete the\nconception, there requires to be borne in mind the third fact, that the\ngenesis, the maintenance, and the decline of all governments, however\nnamed, are alike brought about by the humanity to be controlled: from which\nmay be drawn the inference that, on the average, restrictions of every kind\ncannot last much longer than they are wanted, and cannot be destroyed much\nfaster than they ought to be.\n\nSociety, in all its developments, undergoes the process of exuviation.\nThese old forms which it successively throws off, have all been once\nvitally united with it--have severally served as the protective envelopes\nwithin which a higher humanity was being evolved. They are cast aside only\nwhen they become hindrances--only when some inner and better envelope has\nbeen formed; and they bequeath to us all that there was in them good. The\nperiodical abolitions of tyrannical laws have left the administration of\njustice not only uninjured, but purified. Dead and buried creeds have not\ncarried with them the essential morality they contained, which still\nexists, uncontaminated by the sloughs of superstition. And all that there\nis of justice and kindness and beauty, embodied in our cumbrous forms of\netiquette, will live perennially when the forms themselves have been\nforgotten.\n\n\n\n\nIII. THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE.\n\n\nThere has ever prevailed among men a vague notion that scientific knowledge\ndiffers in nature from ordinary knowledge. By the Greeks, with whom\nMathematics--literally _things learnt_--was alone considered as knowledge\nproper, the distinction must have been strongly felt; and it has ever since\nmaintained itself in the general mind. Though, considering the contrast\nbetween the achievements of science and those of daily unmethodic thinking,\nit is not surprising that such a distinction has been assumed; yet it needs\nbut to rise a little above the common point of view, to see that no such\ndistinction can really exist: or that at best, it is but a superficial\ndistinction. The same faculties are employed in both cases; and in both\ncases their mode of operation is fundamentally the same.\n\nIf we say that science is organized knowledge, we are met by the truth that\nall knowledge is organized in a greater or less degree--that the commonest\nactions of the household and the field presuppose facts colligated,\ninferences drawn, results expected; and that the general success of these\nactions proves the data by which they were guided to have been correctly\nput together. If, again, we say that science is prevision--is a seeing\nbeforehand--is a knowing in what times, places, combinations, or sequences,\nspecified phenomena will be found; we are yet obliged to confess that the\ndefinition includes much that is utterly foreign to science in its ordinary\nacceptation. For example, a child's knowledge of an apple. This, as far as\nit goes consists in previsions. When a child sees a certain form and\ncolours, it knows that if it puts out its hand it will have certain\nimpressions of resistance, and roundness, and smoothness; and if it bites,\na certain taste. And manifestly its general acquaintance with surrounding\nobjects is of like nature--is made up of facts concerning them, so grouped\nas that any part of a group being perceived, the existence of the other\nfacts included in it is foreseen.\n\nIf, once more, we say that science is _exact_ prevision, we still fail to\nestablish the supposed difference. Not only do we find that much of what we\ncall science is not exact, and that some of it, as physiology, can never\nbecome exact; but we find further, that many of the previsions constituting\nthe common stock alike of wise and ignorant, _are_ exact. That an\nunsupported body will fall; that a lighted candle will go out when immersed\nin water; that ice will melt when thrown on the fire--these, and many like\npredictions relating to the familiar properties of things have as high a\ndegree of accuracy as predictions are capable of. It is true that the\nresults predicated are of a very general character; but it is none the less\ntrue that they are rigorously correct as far as they go: and this is all\nthat is requisite to fulfil the definition. There is perfect accordance\nbetween the anticipated phenomena and the actual ones; and no more than\nthis can be said of the highest achievements of the sciences specially\ncharacterised as exact.\n\nSeeing thus that the assumed distinction between scientific knowledge and\ncommon knowledge is not logically justifiable; and yet feeling, as we must,\nthat however impossible it may be to draw a line between them, the two are\nnot practically identical; there arises the question--What is the\nrelationship that exists between them? A partial answer to this question\nmay be drawn from the illustrations just given. On reconsidering them, it\nwill be observed that those portions of ordinary knowledge which are\nidentical in character with scientific knowledge, comprehend only such\ncombinations of phenomena as are directly cognizable by the senses, and are\nof simple, invariable nature. That the smoke from a fire which she is\nlighting will ascend, and that the fire will presently boil water, are\nprevisions which the servant-girl makes equally well with the most learned\nphysicist; they are equally certain, equally exact with his; but they are\nprevisions concerning phenomena in constant and direct relation--phenomena\nthat follow visibly and immediately after their antecedents--phenomena of\nwhich the causation is neither remote nor obscure--phenomena which may be\npredicted by the simplest possible act of reasoning.\n\nIf, now, we pass to the previsions constituting what is commonly known as\nscience--that an eclipse of the moon will happen at a specified time; and\nwhen a barometer is taken to the top of a mountain of known height, the\nmercurial column will descend a stated number of inches; that the poles of\na galvanic battery immersed in water will give off, the one an inflammable\nand the other an inflaming gas, in definite ratio--we perceive that the\nrelations involved are not of a kind habitually presented to our senses;\nthat they depend, some of them, upon special combinations of causes; and\nthat in some of them the connection between antecedents and consequents is\nestablished only by an elaborate series of inferences. The broad\ndistinction, therefore, between the two orders of knowledge, is not in\ntheir nature, but in their remoteness from perception.\n\nIf we regard the cases in their most general aspect, we see that the\nlabourer, who, on hearing certain notes in the adjacent hedge, can describe\nthe particular form and colours of the bird making them; and the\nastronomer, who, having calculated a transit of Venus, can delineate the\nblack spot entering on the sun's disc, as it will appear through the\ntelescope, at a specified hour; do essentially the same thing. Each knows\nthat on fulfilling the requisite conditions, he shall have a preconceived\nimpression--that after a definite series of actions will come a group of\nsensations of a foreknown kind. The difference, then, is not in the\nfundamental character of the mental acts; or in the correctness of the\nprevisions accomplished by them; but in the complexity of the processes\nrequired to achieve the previsions. Much of our commonest knowledge is, as\nfar as it goes, rigorously precise. Science does not increase this\nprecision; cannot transcend it. What then does it do? It reduces other\nknowledge to the same degree of precision. That certainty which direct\nperception gives us respecting coexistences and sequences of the simplest\nand most accessible kind, science gives us respecting coexistences and\nsequences, complex in their dependencies or inaccessible to immediate\nobservation. In brief, regarded from this point of view, science may be\ncalled _an extension of the perceptions by means of reasoning_.\n\nOn further considering the matter, however, it will perhaps be felt that\nthis definition does not express the whole fact--that inseparable as\nscience may be from common knowledge, and completely as we may fill up the\ngap between the simplest previsions of the child and the most recondite\nones of the natural philosopher, by interposing a series of previsions in\nwhich the complexity of reasoning involved is greater and greater, there is\nyet a difference between the two beyond that which is here described. And\nthis is true. But the difference is still not such as enables us to draw\nthe assumed line of demarcation. It is a difference not between common\nknowledge and scientific knowledge; but between the successive phases of\nscience itself, or knowledge itself--whichever we choose to call it. In its\nearlier phases science attains only to _certainty_ of foreknowledge; in its\nlater phases it further attains to _completeness_. We begin by discovering\n_a_ relation: we end by discovering _the_ relation. Our first achievement\nis to foretell the _kind_ of phenomenon which will occur under specific\nconditions: our last achievement is to foretell not only the kind but the\n_amount_. Or, to reduce the proposition to its most definite\nform--undeveloped science is _qualitative_ prevision: developed science is\n_quantitative_ prevision.\n\nThis will at once be perceived to express the remaining distinction between\nthe lower and the higher stages of positive knowledge. The prediction that\na piece of lead will take more force to lift it than a piece of wood of\nequal size, exhibits certainty, but not completeness, of foresight. The\nkind of effect in which the one body will exceed the other is foreseen; but\nnot the amount by which it will exceed. There is qualitative prevision\nonly. On the other hand, the prediction that at a stated time two\nparticular planets will be in conjunction; that by means of a lever having\narms in a given ratio, a known force will raise just so many pounds; that\nto decompose a specified quantity of sulphate of iron by carbonate of soda\nwill require so many grains--these predictions exhibit foreknowledge, not\nonly of the nature of the effects to be produced, but of the magnitude,\neither of the effects themselves, of the agencies producing them, or of the\ndistance in time or space at which they will be produced. There is not only\nqualitative but quantitative prevision.\n\nAnd this is the unexpressed difference which leads us to consider certain\norders of knowledge as especially scientific when contrasted with knowledge\nin general. Are the phenomena _measurable_? is the test which we\nunconsciously employ. Space is measurable: hence Geometry. Force and space\nare measurable: hence Statics. Time, force, and space are measurable: hence\nDynamics. The invention of the barometer enabled men to extend the\nprinciples of mechanics to the atmosphere; and Aerostatics existed. When a\nthermometer was devised there arose a science of heat, which was before\nimpossible. Such of our sensations as we have not yet found modes of\nmeasuring do not originate sciences. We have no science of smells; nor have\nwe one of tastes. We have a science of the relations of sounds differing in\npitch, because we have discovered a way to measure them; but we have no\nscience of sounds in respect to their loudness or their _timbre_, because\nwe have got no measures of loudness and _timbre_.\n\nObviously it is this reduction of the sensible phenomena it represents, to\nrelations of magnitude, which gives to any division of knowledge its\nespecially scientific character. Originally men's knowledge of weights and\nforces was in the same condition as their knowledge of smells and tastes is\nnow--a knowledge not extending beyond that given by the unaided sensations;\nand it remained so until weighing instruments and dynamometers were\ninvented. Before there were hour-glasses and clepsydras, most phenomena\ncould be estimated as to their durations and intervals, with no greater\nprecision than degrees of hardness can be estimated by the fingers. Until a\nthermometric scale was contrived, men's judgments respecting relative\namounts of heat stood on the same footing with their present judgments\nrespecting relative amounts of sound. And as in these initial stages, with\nno aids to observation, only the roughest comparisons of cases could be\nmade, and only the most marked differences perceived; it is obvious that\nonly the most simple laws of dependence could be ascertained--only those\nlaws which being uncomplicated with others, and not disturbed in their\nmanifestations, required no niceties of observation to disentangle them.\nWhence it appears not only that in proportion as knowledge becomes\nquantitative do its previsions become complete as well as certain, but that\nuntil its assumption of a quantitative character it is necessarily confined\nto the most elementary relations.\n\nMoreover it is to be remarked that while, on the one hand, we can discover\nthe laws of the greater proportion of phenomena only by investigating them\nquantitatively; on the other hand we can extend the range of our\nquantitative previsions only as fast as we detect the laws of the results\nwe predict. For clearly the ability to specify the magnitude of a result\ninaccessible to direct measurement, implies knowledge of its mode of\ndependence on something which can be measured--implies that we know the\nparticular fact dealt with to be an instance of some more general fact.\nThus the extent to which our quantitative previsions have been carried in\nany direction, indicates the depth to which our knowledge reaches in that\ndirection. And here, as another aspect of the same fact, we may further\nobserve that as we pass from qualitative to quantitative prevision, we pass\nfrom inductive science to deductive science. Science while purely inductive\nis purely qualitative: when inaccurately quantitative it usually consists\nof part induction, part deduction: and it becomes accurately quantitative\nonly when wholly deductive. We do not mean that the deductive and the\nquantitative are coextensive; for there is manifestly much deduction that\nis qualitative only. We mean that all quantitative prevision is reached\ndeductively; and that induction can achieve only qualitative prevision.\n\nStill, however, it must not be supposed that these distinctions enable us\nto separate ordinary knowledge from science; much as they seem to do so.\nWhile they show in what consists the broad contrast between the extreme\nforms of the two, they yet lead us to recognise their essential identity;\nand once more prove the difference to be one of degree only. For, on the\none hand, the commonest positive knowledge is to some extent quantitative;\nseeing that the amount of the foreseen result is known within certain wide\nlimits. And, on the other hand, the highest quantitative prevision does not\nreach the exact truth, but only a very near approximation to it. Without\nclocks the savage knows that the day is longer in the summer than in the\nwinter; without scales he knows that stone is heavier than flesh: that is,\nhe can foresee respecting certain results that their amounts will exceed\nthese, and be less than those--he knows _about_ what they will be. And,\nwith his most delicate instruments and most elaborate calculations, all\nthat the man of science can do, is to reduce the difference between the\nforeseen and the actual results to an unimportant quantity.\n\nMoreover, it must be borne in mind not only that all the sciences are\nqualitative in their first stages,--not only that some of them, as\nChemistry, have but recently reached the quantitative stage--but that the\nmost advanced sciences have attained to their present power of determining\nquantities not present to the senses, or not directly measurable, by a slow\nprocess of improvement extending through thousands of years. So that\nscience and the knowledge of the uncultured are alike in the nature of\ntheir previsions, widely as they differ in range; they possess a common\nimperfection, though this is immensely greater in the last than in the\nfirst; and the transition from the one to the other has been through a\nseries of steps by which the imperfection has been rendered continually\nless, and the range continually wider.\n\nThese facts, that science and the positive knowledge of the uncultured\ncannot be separated in nature, and that the one is but a perfected and\nextended form of the other, must necessarily underlie the whole theory of\nscience, its progress, and the relations of its parts to each other. There\nmust be serious incompleteness in any history of the sciences, which,\nleaving out of view the first steps of their genesis, commences with them\nonly when they assume definite forms. There must be grave defects, if not a\ngeneral untruth, in a philosophy of the sciences considered in their\ninterdependence and development, which neglects the inquiry how they came\nto be distinct sciences, and how they were severally evolved out of the\nchaos of primitive ideas.\n\nNot only a direct consideration of the matter, but all analogy, goes to\nshow that in the earlier and simpler stages must be sought the key to all\nsubsequent intricacies. The time was when the anatomy and physiology of the\nhuman being were studied by themselves--when the adult man was analyzed and\nthe relations of parts and of functions investigated, without reference\neither to the relations exhibited in the embryo or to the homologous\nrelations existing in other creatures. Now, however, it has become manifest\nthat no true conceptions, no true generalizations, are possible under such\nconditions. Anatomists and physiologists now find that the real natures of\norgans and tissues can be ascertained only by tracing their early\nevolution; and that the affinities between existing genera can be\nsatisfactorily made out only by examining the fossil genera to which they\nare allied. Well, is it not clear that the like must be true concerning all\nthings that undergo development? Is not science a growth? Has not science,\ntoo, its embryology? And must not the neglect of its embryology lead to a\nmisunderstanding of the principles of its evolution and of its existing\norganization?\n\nThere are _a priori_ reasons, therefore, for doubting the truth of all\nphilosophies of the sciences which tacitly proceed upon the common notion\nthat scientific knowledge and ordinary knowledge are separate; instead of\ncommencing, as they should, by affiliating the one upon the other, and\nshowing how it gradually came to be distinguishable from the other. We may\nexpect to find their generalizations essentially artificial; and we shall\nnot be deceived. Some illustrations of this may here be fitly introduced,\nby way of preliminary to a brief sketch of the genesis of science from the\npoint of view indicated. And we cannot more readily find such illustrations\nthan by glancing at a few of the various _classifications_ of the sciences\nthat have from time to time been proposed. To consider all of them would\ntake too much space: we must content ourselves with some of the latest.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCommencing with those which may be soonest disposed of, let us notice first\nthe arrangement propounded by Oken. An abstract of it runs thus:--\n\n  Part I. MATHESIS.--_Pneumatogeny_: Primary Art, Primary\n        Consciousness, God, Primary Rest, Time, Polarity, Motion, Man,\n        Space, Point, Line, Surface, Globe, Rotation.--_Hylogeny_:\n        Gravity, Matter, Ether, Heavenly Bodies, Light, Heat, Fire.\n\n  (He explains that MATHESIS is the doctrine of the whole;\n  _Pneumatogeny_ being the doctrine of immaterial totalities,\n  and _Hylogeny_ that of material totalities.)\n\n  Part II. ONTOLOGY.--_Cosmogeny_: Rest, Centre, Motion, Line, Planets,\n        Form, Planetary System, Comets.--_Stoechiogeny_: Condensation,\n        Simple Matter, Elements, Air, Water, Earth.--_Stoechiology_:\n        Functions of the Elements, &c. &c.--_Kingdoms of Nature_:\n        Individuals.\n\n  (He says in explanation that \"ONTOLOGY teaches us the phenomena of\n  matter. The first of these are the heavenly bodies comprehended by\n  _Cosmogeny_. These divide into elements--_Stoechiogeny_. The earth\n  element divides into minerals--_Mineralogy_. These unite into one\n  collective body--_Geogeny_. The whole in singulars is the living, or\n  _Organic_, which again divides into plants and animals. _Biology_,\n  therefore, divides into _Organogeny_, _Phytosophy_, _Zoosophy_.\")\n\n    FIRST KINGDOM.--MINERALS. _Mineralogy_, _Geology_.\n\n  Part III. BIOLOGY.--_Organosophy_, _Phytogeny_, _Phyto-physiology_,\n  _Phytology_, _Zoogeny_, _Physiology_, _Zoology_, _Psychology_.\n\nA glance over this confused scheme shows that it is an attempt to classify\nknowledge, not after the order in which it has been, or may be, built up in\nthe human consciousness; but after an assumed order of creation. It is a\npseudo-scientific cosmogony, akin to those which men have enunciated from\nthe earliest times downwards; and only a little more respectable. As such\nit will not be thought worthy of much consideration by those who, like\nourselves, hold that experience is the sole origin of knowledge. Otherwise,\nit might have been needful to dwell on the incongruities of the\narrangements--to ask how motion can be treated of before space? how there\ncan be rotation without matter to rotate? how polarity can be dealt with\nwithout involving points and lines? But it will serve our present purpose\njust to point out a few of the extreme absurdities resulting from the\ndoctrine which Oken seems to hold in common with Hegel, that \"to\nphilosophize on Nature is to re-think the great thought of Creation.\" Here\nis a sample:--\n\n  \"Mathematics is the universal science; so also is Physio-philosophy,\n  although it is only a part, or rather but a condition of the\n  universe; both are one, or mutually congruent.\n\n  \"Mathematics is, however, a science of mere forms without substance.\n  Physio-philosophy is, therefore, _mathematics endowed with\n  substance_.\"\n\nFrom the English point of view it is sufficiently amusing to find such a\ndogma not only gravely stated, but stated as an unquestionable truth. Here\nwe see the experiences of quantitative relations which men have gathered\nfrom surrounding bodies and generalized (experiences which had been\nscarcely at all generalized at the beginning of the historic period)--we\nfind these generalized experiences, these intellectual abstractions,\nelevated into concrete actualities, projected back into Nature, and\nconsidered as the internal frame-work of things--the skeleton by which\nmatter is sustained. But this new form of the old realism, is by no means\nthe most startling of the physio-philosophic principles. We presently read\nthat,\n\n  \"The highest mathematical idea, or the fundamental principle of all\n  mathematics is the zero = 0.\"...\n\n  \"Zero is in itself nothing. Mathematics is based upon nothing, and,\n  _consequently_, arises out of nothing.\n\n  \"Out of nothing, _therefore_, it is possible for something to arise;\n  for mathematics, consisting of propositions, is something, in\n  relation to 0.\"\n\nBy such \"consequentlys\" and \"therefores\" it is, that men philosophize when\nthey \"re-think the great thought of creation.\" By dogmas that pretend to be\nreasons, nothing is made to generate mathematics; and by clothing\nmathematics with matter, we have the universe! If now we deny, as we _do_\ndeny, that the highest mathematical idea is the zero;--if, on the other\nhand, we assert, as we _do_ assert, that the fundamental idea underlying\nall mathematics, is that of equality; the whole of Oken's cosmogony\ndisappears. And here, indeed, we may see illustrated, the distinctive\npeculiarity of the German method of procedure in these matters--the bastard\n_a priori_ method, as it may be termed. The legitimate _a priori_ method\nsets out with propositions of which the negation is inconceivable; the _a\npriori_ method as illegitimately applied, sets out either with propositions\nof which the negation is _not_ inconceivable, or with propositions like\nOken's, of which the _affirmation_ is inconceivable.\n\nIt is needless to proceed further with the analysis; else might we detail\nthe steps by which Oken arrives at the conclusions that \"the planets are\ncoagulated colours, for they are coagulated light; that the sphere is the\nexpanded nothing;\" that gravity is \"a weighty nothing, a heavy essence,\nstriving towards a centre;\" that \"the earth is the identical, water the\nindifferent, air the different; or the first the centre, the second the\nradius, the last the periphery of the general globe or of fire.\" To comment\non them would be nearly as absurd as are the propositions themselves. Let\nus pass on to another of the German systems of knowledge--that of Hegel.\n\nThe simple fact that Hegel puts Jacob B[oe]hme on a par with Bacon,\nsuffices alone to show that his stand-point is far remote from the one\nusually regarded as scientific: so far remote, indeed, that it is not easy\nto find any common basis on which to found a criticism. Those who hold that\nthe mind is moulded into conformity with surrounding things by the agency\nof surrounding things, are necessarily at a loss how to deal with those,\nwho, like Schelling and Hegel, assert that surrounding things are\nsolidified mind--that Nature is \"petrified intelligence.\" However, let us\nbriefly glance at Hegel's classification. He divides philosophy into three\nparts:--\n\n  1. _Logic_, or the science of the idea in itself, the pure idea.\n\n  2. _The Philosophy of Nature_, or the science of the idea considered\n     under its other form--of the idea as Nature.\n\n  3. _The Philosophy of the Mind_, or the science of the idea in its\n     return to itself.\n\nOf these, the second is divided into the natural sciences, commonly so\ncalled; so that in its more detailed form the series runs thus:--Logic,\nMechanics, Physics, Organic Physics, Psychology.\n\nNow, if we believe with Hegel, first, that thought is the true essence of\nman; second, that thought is the essence of the world; and that, therefore,\nthere is nothing but thought; his classification, beginning with the\nscience of pure thought, may be acceptable. But otherwise, it is an obvious\nobjection to his arrangement, that thought implies things thought of--that\nthere can be no logical forms without the substance of experience--that the\nscience of ideas and the science of things must have a simultaneous origin.\nHegel, however, anticipates this objection, and, in his obstinate idealism,\nreplies, that the contrary is true; that all contained in the forms, to\nbecome something, requires to be thought: and that logical forms are the\nfoundations of all things.\n\nIt is not surprising that, starting from such premises, and reasoning after\nthis fashion, Hegel finds his way to strange conclusions. Out of _space_\nand _time_ he proceeds to build up _motion_, _matter_, _repulsion_,\n_attraction_, _weight_, and _inertia_. He then goes on to logically evolve\nthe solar system. In doing this he widely diverges from the Newtonian\ntheory; reaches by syllogism the conviction that the planets are the most\nperfect celestial bodies; and, not being able to bring the stars within his\ntheory, says that they are mere formal existences and not living matter,\nand that as compared with the solar system they are as little admirable as\na cutaneous eruption or a swarm of flies.[F]\n\n  [F] It is somewhat curious that the author of \"The Plurality of\n      Worlds,\" with quite other aims, should have persuaded himself\n      into similar conclusions.\n\nResults so outrageous might be left as self-disproved, were it not that\nspeculators of this class are not alarmed by any amount of incongruity with\nestablished beliefs. The only efficient mode of treating systems like this\nof Hegel, is to show that they are self-destructive--that by their first\nsteps they ignore that authority on which all their subsequent steps\ndepend. If Hegel professes, as he manifestly does, to develop his scheme by\nreasoning--if he presents successive inferences as _necessarily following_\nfrom certain premises; he implies the postulate that a belief which\nnecessarily follows after certain antecedents is a true belief: and, did an\nopponent reply to one of his inferences, that, though it was impossible to\nthink the opposite, yet the opposite was true, he would consider the reply\nirrational. The procedure, however, which he would thus condemn as\ndestructive of all thinking whatever, is just the procedure exhibited in\nthe enunciation of his own first principles.\n\nMankind find themselves unable to conceive that there can be thought\nwithout things thought of. Hegel, however, asserts that there _can_ be\nthought without things thought of. That ultimate test of a true\nproposition--the inability of the human mind to conceive the negation of\nit--which in all other cases he considers valid, he considers invalid where\nit suits his convenience to do so; and yet at the same time denies the\nright of an opponent to follow his example. If it is competent for him to\nposit dogmas, which are the direct negations of what human consciousness\nrecognises; then is it also competent for his antagonists to stop him at\nevery step in his argument by saying, that though the particular inference\nhe is drawing seems to his mind, and to all minds, necessarily to follow\nfrom the premises, yet it is not true, but the contrary inference is true.\nOr, to state the dilemma in another form:--If he sets out with\ninconceivable propositions, then may he with equal propriety make all his\nsucceeding propositions inconceivable ones--may at every step throughout\nhis reasoning draw exactly the opposite conclusion to that which seems\ninvolved.\n\nHegel's mode of procedure being thus essentially suicidal, the Hegelian\nclassification which depends upon it, falls to the ground. Let us consider\nnext that of M. Comte.\n\nAs all his readers must admit, M. Comte presents us with a scheme of the\nsciences which, unlike the foregoing ones, demands respectful\nconsideration. Widely as we differ from him, we cheerfully bear witness to\nthe largeness of his views, the clearness of his reasoning, and the value\nof his speculations as contributing to intellectual progress. Did we\nbelieve a serial arrangement of the sciences to be possible, that of M.\nComte would certainly be the one we should adopt. His fundamental\npropositions are thoroughly intelligible; and if not true, have a great\nsemblance of truth. His successive steps are logically co-ordinated; and he\nsupports his conclusions by a considerable amount of evidence--evidence\nwhich, so long as it is not critically examined, or not met by counter\nevidence, seems to substantiate his positions. But it only needs to assume\nthat antagonistic attitude which _ought_ to be assumed towards new\ndoctrines, in the belief that, if true, they will prosper by conquering\nobjectors--it needs but to test his leading doctrines either by other facts\nthan those he cites, or by his own facts differently applied, to at once\nshow that they will not stand. We will proceed thus to deal with the\ngeneral principle on which he bases his hierarchy of the sciences.\n\nIn the second chapter of his _Cours de Philosophie Positive_, M. Comte\nsays:--\"Our problem is, then, to find the one _rational_ order, amongst a\nhost of possible systems.\"... \"This order is determined by the degree of\nsimplicity, or, what comes to the same thing, of generality of their\nphenomena.\" And the arrangement he deduces runs thus: _Mathematics_,\n_Astronomy_, _Physics_, _Chemistry_, _Physiology_, _Social Physics_. This\nhe asserts to be \"the true _filiation_ of the sciences.\" He asserts\nfurther, that the principle of progression from a greater to a less degree\nof generality, \"which gives this order to the whole body of science,\narranges the parts of each science.\" And, finally, he asserts that the\ngradations thus established _a priori_ among the sciences, and the parts of\neach science, \"is in essential conformity with the order which has\nspontaneously taken place among the branches of natural philosophy;\" or, in\nother words--corresponds with the order of historic development.\n\nLet us compare these assertions with the facts. That there may be perfect\nfairness, let us make no choice, but take as the field for our comparison,\nthe succeeding section treating of the first science--Mathematics; and let\nus use none but M. Comte's own facts, and his own admissions. Confining\nourselves to this one science, of course our comparisons must be between\nits several parts. M. Comte says, that the parts of each science must be\narranged in the order of their decreasing generality; and that this order\nof decreasing generality agrees with the order of historic development. Our\ninquiry must be, then, whether the history of mathematics confirms this\nstatement.\n\nCarrying out his principle, M. Comte divides Mathematics into \"Abstract\nMathematics, or the Calculus (taking the word in its most extended sense)\nand Concrete Mathematics, which is composed of General Geometry and of\nRational Mechanics.\" The subject-matter of the first of these is _number_;\nthe subject-matter of the second includes _space_, _time_, _motion_,\n_force_. The one possesses the highest possible degree of generality; for\nall things whatever admit of enumeration. The others are less general;\nseeing that there are endless phenomena that are not cognizable either by\ngeneral geometry or rational mechanics. In conformity with the alleged law,\ntherefore, the evolution of the calculus must throughout have preceded the\nevolution of the concrete sub-sciences. Now somewhat awkwardly for him, the\nfirst remark M. Comte makes bearing upon this point is, that \"from an\nhistorical point of view, mathematical analysis _appears to have risen out\nof_ the contemplation of geometrical and mechanical facts.\" True, he goes\non to say that, \"it is not the less independent of these sciences logically\nspeaking;\" for that \"analytical ideas are, above all others, universal,\nabstract, and simple, and geometrical conceptions are necessarily founded\non them.\"\n\nWe will not take advantage of this last passage to charge M. Comte with\nteaching, after the fashion of Hegel, that there can be thought without\nthings thought of. We are content simply to compare the two assertions,\nthat analysis arose out of the contemplation of geometrical and mechanical\nfacts, and that geometrical conceptions are founded upon analytical ones.\nLiterally interpreted they exactly cancel each other. Interpreted, however,\nin a liberal sense, they imply, what we believe to be demonstrable, that\nthe two had _a simultaneous origin_. The passage is either nonsense, or it\nis an admission that abstract and concrete mathematics are coeval. Thus, at\nthe very first step, the alleged congruity between the order of generality\nand the order of evolution, does not hold good.\n\nBut may it not be that though abstract and concrete mathematics took their\nrise at the same time, the one afterwards developed more rapidly than the\nother; and has ever since remained in advance of it? No: and again we call\nM. Comte himself as witness. Fortunately for his argument he has said\nnothing respecting the early stages of the concrete and abstract divisions\nafter their divergence from a common root; otherwise the advent of Algebra\nlong after the Greek geometry had reached a high development, would have\nbeen an inconvenient fact for him to deal with. But passing over this, and\nlimiting ourselves to his own statements, we find, at the opening of the\nnext chapter, the admission, that \"the historical development of the\nabstract portion of mathematical science has, since the time of Descartes,\nbeen for the most part _determined_ by that of the concrete.\" Further on we\nread respecting algebraic functions that \"most functions were concrete in\ntheir origin--even those which are at present the most purely abstract; and\nthe ancients discovered only through geometrical definitions elementary\nalgebraic properties of functions to which a numerical value was not\nattached till long afterwards, rendering abstract to us what was concrete\nto the old geometers.\" How do these statements tally with his doctrine?\nAgain, having divided the calculus into algebraic and arithmetical, M.\nComte admits, as perforce he must, that the algebraic is more general than\nthe arithmetical; yet he will not say that algebra preceded arithmetic in\npoint of time. And again, having divided the calculus of functions into the\ncalculus of direct functions (common algebra) and the calculus of indirect\nfunctions (transcendental analysis), he is obliged to speak of this last as\npossessing a higher generality than the first; yet it is far more modern.\nIndeed, by implication, M. Comte himself confesses this incongruity; for he\nsays:--\"It might seem that the transcendental analysis ought to be studied\nbefore the ordinary, as it provides the equations which the other has to\nresolve; but though the transcendental _is logically independent of the\nordinary_, it is best to follow the usual method of study, taking the\nordinary first.\" In all these cases, then, as well as at the close of the\nsection where he predicts that mathematicians will in time \"create\nprocedures of _a wider generality_,\" M. Comte makes admissions that are\ndiametrically opposed to the alleged law.\n\nIn the succeeding chapters treating of the concrete department of\nmathematics, we find similar contradictions. M. Comte himself names the\ngeometry of the ancients _special_ geometry, and that of moderns the\n_general_ geometry. He admits that while \"the ancients studied geometry\nwith reference to the _bodies_ under notice, or specially; the moderns\nstudy it with reference to the _phenomena_ to be considered, or generally.\"\nHe admits that while \"the ancients extracted all they could out of one line\nor surface before passing to another,\" \"the moderns, since Descartes,\nemploy themselves on questions which relate to any figure whatever.\" These\nfacts are the reverse of what, according to his theory, they should be. So,\ntoo, in mechanics. Before dividing it into statics and dynamics, M. Comte\ntreats of the three laws of _motion_, and is obliged to do so; for statics,\nthe more _general_ of the two divisions, though it does not involve motion,\nis impossible as a science until the laws of motion are ascertained. Yet\nthe laws of motion pertain to dynamics, the more _special_ of the\ndivisions. Further on he points out that after Archimedes, who discovered\nthe law of equilibrium of the lever, statics made no progress until the\nestablishment of dynamics enabled us to seek \"the conditions of equilibrium\nthrough the laws of the composition of forces.\" And he adds--\"At this day\n_this is the method universally employed_. At the first glance it does not\nappear the most rational--dynamics being more complicated than statics, and\nprecedence being natural to the simpler. It would, in fact, be more\nphilosophical to refer dynamics to statics, as has since been done.\" Sundry\ndiscoveries are afterwards detailed, showing how completely the development\nof statics has been achieved by considering its problems dynamically; and\nbefore the close of the section M. Comte remarks that \"before hydrostatics\ncould be comprehended under statics, it was necessary that the abstract\ntheory of equilibrium should be made so general as to apply directly to\nfluids as well as solids. This was accomplished when Lagrange supplied, as\nthe basis of the whole of rational mechanics, the single principle of\nvirtual velocities.\" In which statement we have two facts directly at\nvariance with M. Comte's doctrine;--first, that the simpler science,\nstatics, reached its present development only by the aid of the principle\nof virtual velocities, which belongs to the more complex science, dynamics;\nand that this \"single principle\" underlying all rational mechanics--this\n_most general form_ which includes alike the relations of statical,\nhydrostatical, and dynamical forces--was reached so late as the time of\nLagrange.\n\nThus it is _not_ true that the historical succession of the divisions of\nmathematics has corresponded with the order of decreasing generality. It is\n_not_ true that abstract mathematics was evolved antecedently to, and\nindependently of concrete mathematics. It is _not_ true that of the\nsubdivisions of abstract mathematics, the more general came before the more\nspecial. And it is _not_ true that concrete mathematics, in either of its\ntwo sections, began with the most abstract and advanced to the less\nabstract truths.\n\nIt may be well to mention, parenthetically, that in defending his alleged\nlaw of progression from the general to the special, M. Comte somewhere\ncomments upon the two meanings of the word _general_, and the resulting\nliability to confusion. Without now discussing whether the asserted\ndistinction can be maintained in other cases, it is manifest that it does\nnot exist here. In sundry of the instances above quoted, the endeavors made\nby M. Comte himself to disguise, or to explain away, the precedence of the\nspecial over the general, clearly indicate that the generality spoken of,\nis of the kind meant by his formula. And it needs but a brief consideration\nof the matter to show that, even did he attempt it, he could not\ndistinguish this generality, which, as above proved, frequently comes last,\nfrom the generality which he says always comes first. For what is the\nnature of that mental process by which objects, dimensions, weights, times,\nand the rest, are found capable of having their relations expressed\nnumerically? It is the formation of certain abstract conceptions of unity,\nduality and multiplicity, which are applicable to all things alike. It is\nthe invention of general symbols serving to express the numerical relations\nof entities, whatever be their special characters. And what is the nature\nof the mental process by which numbers are found capable of having their\nrelations expressed algebraically? It is just the same. It is the formation\nof certain abstract conceptions of numerical functions which are the same\nwhatever be the magnitudes of the numbers. It is the invention of general\nsymbols serving to express the relations between numbers, as numbers\nexpress the relations between things. And transcendental analysis stands to\nalgebra in the same position that algebra stands in to arithmetic.\n\nTo briefly illustrate their respective powers;--arithmetic can express in\none formula the value of a _particular_ tangent to a _particular_ curve;\nalgebra can express in one formula the values of _all_ tangents to a\n_particular_ curve; transcendental analysis can express in one formula the\nvalues of _all_ tangents to _all_ curves. Just as arithmetic deals with the\ncommon properties of lines, areas, bulks, forces, periods; so does algebra\ndeal with the common properties of the numbers which arithmetic presents;\nso does transcendental analysis deal with the common properties of the\nequations exhibited by algebra. Thus, the generality of the higher branches\nof the calculus, when compared with the lower, is the same kind of\ngenerality as that of the lower branches when compared with geometry or\nmechanics. And on examination it will be found that the like relation\nexists in the various other cases above given.\n\nHaving shown that M. Comte's alleged law of progression does not hold among\nthe several parts of the same science, let us see how it agrees with the\nfacts when applied to separate sciences. \"Astronomy,\" says M. Comte, at the\nopening of Book III., \"was a positive science, in its geometrical aspect,\nfrom the earliest days of the school of Alexandria; but Physics, which we\nare now to consider, had no positive character at all till Galileo made his\ngreat discoveries on the fall of heavy bodies.\" On this, our comment is\nsimply that it is a misrepresentation based upon an arbitrary misuse of\nwords--a mere verbal artifice. By choosing to exclude from terrestrial\nphysics those laws of magnitude, motion, and position, which he includes in\ncelestial physics, M. Comte makes it appear that the one owes nothing to\nthe other. Not only is this altogether unwarrantable, but it is radically\ninconsistent with his own scheme of divisions. At the outset he says--and\nas the point is important we quote from the original--\"Pour la _physique\ninorganique_ nous voyons d'abord, en nous conformant toujours a l'ordre de\ngeneralite et de dependance des phenomenes, qu'elle doit etre partagee en\ndeux sections distinctes, suivant qu'elle considere les phenomenes generaux\nde l'univers, ou, en particulier, ceux que presentent les corps terrestres.\nD'ou la physique celeste, ou l'astronomie, soit geometrique, soit\nmechanique; et la physique terrestre.\"\n\nHere then we have _inorganic physics_ clearly divided into _celestial\nphysics_ and _terrestrial physics_--the phenomena presented by the\nuniverse, and the phenomena presented by earthly bodies. If now celestial\nbodies and terrestrial bodies exhibit sundry leading phenomena in common,\nas they do, how can the generalization of these common phenomena be\nconsidered as pertaining to the one class rather than to the other? If\ninorganic physics includes geometry (which M. Comte has made it do by\ncomprehending _geometrical_ astronomy in its sub-section--celestial\nphysics); and if its sub-section--terrestrial physics, treats of things\nhaving geometrical properties; how can the laws of geometrical relations be\nexcluded from terrestrial physics? Clearly if celestial physics includes\nthe geometry of objects in the heavens, terrestrial physics includes the\ngeometry of objects on the earth. And if terrestrial physics includes\nterrestrial geometry, while celestial physics includes celestial geometry,\nthen the geometrical part of terrestrial physics precedes the geometrical\npart of celestial physics; seeing that geometry gained its first ideas from\nsurrounding objects. Until men had learnt geometrical relations from bodies\non the earth, it was impossible for them to understand the geometrical\nrelations of bodies in the heavens.\n\nSo, too, with celestial mechanics, which had terrestrial mechanics for its\nparent. The very conception of _force_, which underlies the whole of\nmechanical astronomy, is borrowed from our earthly experiences; and the\nleading laws of mechanical action as exhibited in scales, levers,\nprojectiles, &c., had to be ascertained before the dynamics of the solar\nsystem could be entered upon. What were the laws made use of by Newton in\nworking out his grand discovery? The law of falling bodies disclosed by\nGalileo; that of the composition of forces also disclosed by Galileo; and\nthat of centrifugal force found out by Huyghens--all of them\ngeneralizations of terrestrial physics. Yet, with facts like these before\nhim, M. Comte places astronomy before physics in order of evolution! He\ndoes not compare the geometrical parts of the two together, and the\nmechanical parts of the two together; for this would by no means suit his\nhypothesis. But he compares the geometrical part of the one with the\nmechanical part of the other, and so gives a semblance of truth to his\nposition. He is led away by a verbal delusion. Had he confined his\nattention to the things and disregarded the words, he would have seen that\nbefore mankind scientifically co-ordinated _any one class of phenomena_\ndisplayed in the heavens, they had previously co-ordinated _a parallel\nclass of phenomena_ displayed upon the surface of the earth.\n\nWere it needful we could fill a score pages with the incongruities of M.\nComte's scheme. But the foregoing samples will suffice. So far is his law\nof evolution of the sciences from being tenable, that, by following his\nexample, and arbitrarily ignoring one class of facts, it would be possible\nto present, with great plausibility, just the opposite generalization to\nthat which he enunciates. While he asserts that the rational order of the\nsciences, like the order of their historic development, \"is determined by\nthe degree of simplicity, or, what comes to the same thing, of generality\nof their phenomena;\" it might contrariwise be asserted, that, commencing\nwith the complex and the special, mankind have progressed step by step to a\nknowledge of greater simplicity and wider generality. So much evidence is\nthere of this as to have drawn from Whewell, in his _History of the\nInductive Sciences_, the general remark that \"the reader has already seen\nrepeatedly in the course of this history, complex and derivative principles\npresenting themselves to men's minds before simple and elementary ones.\"\n\nEven from M. Comte's own work, numerous facts, admissions, and arguments,\nmight be picked out, tending to show this. We have already quoted his words\nin proof that both abstract and concrete mathematics have progressed\ntowards a higher degree of generality, and that he looks forward to a\nhigher generality still. Just to strengthen this adverse hypothesis, let us\ntake a further instance. From the _particular_ case of the scales, the law\nof equilibrium of which was familiar to the earliest nations known,\nArchimedes advanced to the more _general_ case of the unequal lever with\nunequal weights; the law of equilibrium of which _includes_ that of the\nscales. By the help of Galileo's discovery concerning the composition of\nforces, D'Alembert \"established, for the first time, the equations of\nequilibrium of _any_ system of forces applied to the different points of a\nsolid body\"--equations which include all cases of levers and an infinity of\ncases besides. Clearly this is progress towards a higher\ngenerality--towards a knowledge more independent of special\ncircumstances--towards a study of phenomena \"the most disengaged from the\nincidents of particular cases;\" which is M. Comte's definition of \"the most\nsimple phenomena.\" Does it not indeed follow from the familiarly admitted\nfact, that mental advance is from the concrete to the abstract, from the\nparticular to the general, that the universal and therefore most simple\ntruths are the last to be discovered? Is not the government of the solar\nsystem by a force varying inversely as the square of the distance, a\nsimpler conception than any that preceded it? Should we ever succeed in\nreducing all orders of phenomena to some single law--say of atomic action,\nas M. Comte suggests--must not that law answer to his test of being\n_independent_ of all others, and therefore most simple? And would not such\na law generalize the phenomena of gravity, cohesion, atomic affinity, and\nelectric repulsion, just as the laws of number generalize the quantitative\nphenomena of space, time and force?\n\nThe possibility of saying so much in support of an hypothesis the very\nreverse of M. Comte's, at once proves that his generalization is only a\nhalf-truth. The fact is, that neither proposition is correct by itself; and\nthe actuality is expressed only by putting the two together. The progress\nof science is duplex: it is at once from the special to the general, and\nfrom the general to the special: it is analytical and synthetical at the\nsame time.\n\nM. Comte himself observes that the evolution of science has been\naccomplished by the division of labour; but he quite misstates the mode in\nwhich this division of labour has operated. As he describes it, it has\nsimply been an arrangement of phenomena into classes, and the study of each\nclass by itself. He does not recognise the constant effect of progress in\neach class upon _all_ other classes; but only on the class succeeding it in\nhis hierarchical scale. Or if he occasionally admits collateral influences\nand intercommunications, he does it so grudgingly, and so quickly puts the\nadmissions out of sight and forgets them, as to leave the impression that,\nwith but trifling exceptions, the sciences aid each other only in the order\nof their alleged succession. The fact is, however, that the division of\nlabour in science, like the division of labour in society, and like the\n\"physiological division of labour\" in individual organisms, has been not\nonly a specialization of functions, but a continuous helping of each\ndivision by all the others, and of all by each. Every particular class of\ninquirers has, as it were, secreted its own particular order of truths from\nthe general mass of material which observation accumulates; and all other\nclasses of inquirers have made use of these truths as fast as they were\nelaborated, with the effect of enabling them the better to elaborate each\nits own order of truths.\n\nIt was thus in sundry of the cases we have quoted as at variance with M.\nComte's doctrine. It was thus with the application of Huyghens's optical\ndiscovery to astronomical observation by Galileo. It was thus with the\napplication of the isochronism of the pendulum to the making of instruments\nfor measuring intervals, astronomical and other. It was thus when the\ndiscovery that the refraction and dispersion of light did not follow the\nsame law of variation, affected both astronomy and physiology by giving us\nachromatic telescopes and microscopes. It was thus when Bradley's discovery\nof the aberration of light enabled him to make the first step towards\nascertaining the motions of the stars. It was thus when Cavendish's\ntorsion-balance experiment determined the specific gravity of the earth,\nand so gave a datum for calculating the specific gravities of the sun and\nplanets. It was thus when tables of atmospheric refraction enabled\nobservers to write down the real places of the heavenly bodies instead of\ntheir apparent places. It was thus when the discovery of the different\nexpansibilities of metals by heat, gave us the means of correcting our\nchronometrical measurements of astronomical periods. It was thus when the\nlines of the prismatic spectrum were used to distinguish the heavenly\nbodies that are of like nature with the sun from those which are not. It\nwas thus when, as recently, an electro-telegraphic instrument was invented\nfor the more accurate registration of meridional transits. It was thus when\nthe difference in the rates of a clock at the equator, and nearer the\npoles, gave data for calculating the oblateness of the earth, and\naccounting for the precession of the equinoxes. It was thus--but it is\nneedless to continue.\n\nHere, within our own limited knowledge of its history, we have named ten\nadditional cases in which the single science of astronomy has owed its\nadvance to sciences coming _after_ it in M. Comte's series. Not only its\nsecondary steps, but its greatest revolutions have been thus determined.\nKepler could not have discovered his celebrated laws had it not been for\nTycho Brahe's accurate observations; and it was only after some progress in\nphysical and chemical science that the improved instruments with which\nthose observations were made, became possible. The heliocentric theory of\nthe solar system had to wait until the invention of the telescope before it\ncould be finally established. Nay, even the grand discovery of all--the law\nof gravitation--depended for its proof upon an operation of physical\nscience, the measurement of a degree on the Earth's surface. So completely\nindeed did it thus depend, that Newton _had actually abandoned his\nhypothesis_ because the length of a degree, as then stated, brought out\nwrong results; and it was only after Picard's more exact measurement was\npublished, that he returned to his calculations and proved his great\ngeneralization. Now this constant intercommunion, which, for brevity's\nsake, we have illustrated in the case of one science only, has been taking\nplace with all the sciences. Throughout the whole course of their evolution\nthere has been a continuous _consensus_ of the sciences--a _consensus_\nexhibiting a general correspondence with the _consensus_ of faculties in\neach phase of mental development; the one being an objective registry of\nthe subjective state of the other.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFrom our present point of view, then, it becomes obvious that the\nconception of a _serial_ arrangement of the sciences is a vicious one. It\nis not simply that the schemes we have examined are untenable; but it is\nthat the sciences cannot be rightly placed in any linear order whatever. It\nis not simply that, as M. Comte admits, a classification \"will always\ninvolve something, if not arbitrary, at least artificial;\" it is not, as he\nwould have us believe, that, neglecting minor imperfections a\nclassification may be substantially true; but it is that any grouping of\nthe sciences in a succession gives a radically erroneous idea of their\ngenesis and their dependencies. There is no \"one _rational_ order among a\nhost of possible systems.\" There is no \"true _filiation_ of the sciences.\"\nThe whole hypothesis is fundamentally false. Indeed, it needs but a glance\nat its origin to see at once how baseless it is. Why a _series_? What\nreason have we to suppose that the sciences admit of a _linear_\narrangement? Where is our warrant for assuming that there is some\n_succession_ in which they can be placed? There is no reason; no warrant.\nWhence then has arisen the supposition? To use M. Comte's own phraseology,\nwe should say, it is a metaphysical conception. It adds another to the\ncases constantly occurring, of the human mind being made the measure of\nNature. We are obliged to think in sequence; it is the law of our minds\nthat we must consider subjects separately, one after another: _therefore_\nNature must be serial--_therefore_ the sciences must be classifiable in a\nsuccession. See here the birth of the notion, and the sole evidence of its\ntruth. Men have been obliged when arranging in books their schemes of\neducation and systems of knowledge, to choose _some_ order or other. And\nfrom inquiring what is the best order, have naturally fallen into the\nbelief that there is an order which truly represents the facts--have\npersevered in seeking such an order; quite overlooking the previous\nquestion whether it is likely that Nature has consulted the convenience of\nbook-making.\n\nFor German philosophers, who hold that Nature is \"petrified intelligence,\"\nand that logical forms are the foundations of all things, it is a\nconsistent hypothesis that as thought is serial, Nature is serial; but that\nM. Comte, who is so bitter an opponent of all anthropomorphism, even in its\nmost evanescent shapes, should have committed the mistake of imposing upon\nthe external world an arrangement which so obviously springs from a\nlimitation of the human consciousness, is somewhat strange. And it is the\nmore strange when we call to mind how, at the outset, M. Comte remarks that\nin the beginning \"_toutes les sciences sont cultivees simultanement par les\nmemes esprits_;\" that this is \"_inevitable et meme indispensable_;\" and how\nhe further remarks that the different sciences are \"_comme les diverses\nbranches d'un tronc unique_.\" Were it not accounted for by the distorting\ninfluence of a cherished hypothesis, it would be scarcely possible to\nunderstand how, after recognising truths like these, M. Comte should have\npersisted in attempting to construct \"_une echelle encyclopedique_.\"\n\nThe metaphor which M. Comte has here so inconsistently used to express the\nrelations of the sciences--branches of one trunk--is an approximation to\nthe truth, though not the truth itself. It suggests the facts that the\nsciences had a common origin; that they have been developing\nsimultaneously; and that they have been from time to time dividing and\nsub-dividing. But it does not suggest the yet more important fact, that the\ndivisions and sub-divisions thus arising do not remain separate, but now\nand again re-unite in direct and indirect ways. They inosculate; they\nseverally send off and receive connecting growths; and the intercommunion\nhas been ever becoming more frequent, more intricate, more widely ramified.\nThere has all along been higher specialization, that there might be a\nlarger generalization; and a deeper analysis, that there might be a better\nsynthesis. Each larger generalization has lifted sundry specializations\nstill higher; and each better synthesis has prepared the way for still\ndeeper analysis.\n\nAnd here we may fitly enter upon the task awhile since indicated--a sketch\nof the Genesis of Science, regarded as a gradual outgrowth from common\nknowledge--an extension of the perceptions by the aid of the reason. We\npropose to treat it as a psychological process historically displayed;\ntracing at the same time the advance from qualitative to quantitative\nprevision; the progress from concrete facts to abstract facts, and the\napplication of such abstract facts to the analysis of new orders of\nconcrete facts; the simultaneous advance in generalization and\nspecialization; the continually increasing subdivision and reunion of the\nsciences; and their constantly improving _consensus_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo trace out scientific evolution from its deepest roots would, of course,\ninvolve a complete analysis of the mind. For as science is a development of\nthat common knowledge acquired by the unaided senses and uncultured reason,\nso is that common knowledge itself gradually built up out of the simplest\nperceptions. We must, therefore, begin somewhere abruptly; and the most\nappropriate stage to take for our point of departure will be the adult mind\nof the savage.\n\nCommencing thus, without a proper preliminary analysis, we are naturally\nsomewhat at a loss how to present, in a satisfactory manner, those\nfundamental processes of thought out of which science ultimately\noriginates. Perhaps our argument may be best initiated by the proposition,\nthat all intelligent action whatever depends upon the discerning of\ndistinctions among surrounding things. The condition under which only it is\npossible for any creature to obtain food and avoid danger is, that it shall\nbe differently affected by different objects--that it shall be led to act\nin one way by one object, and in another way by another. In the lower\norders of creatures this condition is fulfilled by means of an apparatus\nwhich acts automatically. In the higher orders the actions are partly\nautomatic, partly conscious. And in man they are almost wholly conscious.\n\nThroughout, however, there must necessarily exist a certain classification\nof things according to their properties--a classification which is either\norganically registered in the system, as in the inferior creation, or is\nformed by experience, as in ourselves. And it may be further remarked, that\nthe extent to which this classification is carried, roughly indicates the\nheight of intelligence--that, while the lowest organisms are able to do\nlittle more than discriminate organic from inorganic matter; while the\ngenerality of animals carry their classifications no further than to a\nlimited number of plants or creatures serving for food, a limited number of\nbeasts of prey, and a limited number of places and materials; the most\ndegraded of the human race possess a knowledge of the distinctive natures\nof a great variety of substances, plants, animals, tools, persons, &c., not\nonly as classes but as individuals.\n\nWhat now is the mental process by which classification is effected?\nManifestly it is a recognition of the _likeness_ or _unlikeness_ of things,\neither in respect of their sizes, colours, forms, weights, textures,\ntastes, &c., or in respect of their modes of action. By some special mark,\nsound, or motion, the savage identifies a certain four-legged creature he\nsees, as one that is good for food, and to be caught in a particular way;\nor as one that is dangerous; and acts accordingly. He has classed together\nall the creatures that are _alike_ in this particular. And manifestly in\nchoosing the wood out of which to form his bow, the plant with which to\npoison his arrows, the bone from which to make his fish-hooks, he\nidentifies them through their chief sensible properties as belonging to the\ngeneral classes, wood, plant, and bone, but distinguishes them as belonging\nto sub-classes by virtue of certain properties in which they are _unlike_\nthe rest of the general classes they belong to; and so forms genera and\nspecies.\n\nAnd here it becomes manifest that not only is classification carried on by\ngrouping together in the mind things that are _like_; but that classes and\nsub-classes are formed and arranged according to the _degrees of\nunlikeness_. Things widely contrasted are alone distinguished in the lower\nstages of mental evolution; as may be any day observed in an infant. And\ngradually as the powers of discrimination increase, the widely contrasted\nclasses at first distinguished, come to be each divided into sub-classes,\ndiffering from each other less than the classes differ; and these\nsub-classes are again divided after the same manner. By the continuance of\nwhich process, things are gradually arranged into groups, the members of\nwhich are less and less _unlike_; ending, finally, in groups whose members\ndiffer only as individuals, and not specifically. And thus there tends\nultimately to arise the notion of _complete likeness_. For manifestly, it\nis impossible that groups should continue to be sub-divided in virtue of\nsmaller and smaller differences, without there being a simultaneous\napproximation to the notion of _no difference_.\n\nLet us next notice that the recognition of likeness and unlikeness, which\nunderlies classification, and out of which continued classification evolves\nthe idea of complete likeness--let us next notice that it also underlies\nthe process of _naming_, and by consequence _language_. For all language\nconsists, at the beginning, of symbols which are as _like_ to the things\nsymbolized as it is practicable to make them. The language of signs is a\nmeans of conveying ideas by mimicking the actions or peculiarities of the\nthings referred to. Verbal language is also, at the beginning, a mode of\nsuggesting objects or acts by imitating the sounds which the objects make,\nor with which the acts are accompanied. Originally these two languages were\nused simultaneously. It needs but to watch the gesticulations with which\nthe savage accompanies his speech--to see a Bushman or a Kaffir dramatizing\nbefore an audience his mode of catching game--or to note the extreme\npaucity of words in all primitive vocabularies; to infer that at first,\nattitudes, gestures, and sounds, were all combined to produce as good a\n_likeness_ as possible, of the things, animals, persons, or events\ndescribed; and that as the sounds came to be understood by themselves the\ngestures fell into disuse: leaving traces, however, in the manners of the\nmore excitable civilized races. But be this as it may, it suffices simply\nto observe, how many of the words current among barbarous peoples are like\nthe sounds appertaining to the things signified; how many of our own oldest\nand simplest words have the same peculiarity; how children tend to invent\nimitative words; and how the sign-language spontaneously formed by deaf\nmutes is invariably based upon imitative actions--to at once see that the\nnotion of _likeness_ is that from which the nomenclature of objects takes\nits rise.\n\nWere there space we might go on to point out how this law of life is\ntraceable, not only in the origin but in the development of language; how\nin primitive tongues the plural is made by a duplication of the singular,\nwhich is a multiplication of the word to make it _like_ the multiplicity of\nthe things; how the use of metaphor--that prolific source of new words--is\na suggesting of ideas that are _like_ the ideas to be conveyed in some\nrespect or other; and how, in the copious use of simile, fable, and\nallegory among uncivilized races, we see that complex conceptions, which\nthere is yet no direct language for, are rendered, by presenting known\nconceptions more or less _like_ them.\n\nThis view is further confirmed, and the predominance of this notion of\nlikeness in primitive times further illustrated, by the fact that our\nsystem of presenting ideas to the eye originated after the same fashion.\nWriting and printing have descended from picture-language. The earliest\nmode of permanently registering a fact was by depicting it on a wall; that\nis--by exhibiting something as _like_ to the thing to be remembered as it\ncould be made. Gradually as the practice grew habitual and extensive, the\nmost frequently repeated forms became fixed, and presently abbreviated;\nand, passing through the hieroglyphic and ideographic phases, the symbols\nlost all apparent relations to the things signified: just as the majority\nof our spoken words have done.\n\nObserve again, that the same thing is true respecting the genesis of\nreasoning. The _likeness_ that is perceived to exist between cases, is the\nessence of all early reasoning and of much of our present reasoning. The\nsavage, having by experience discovered a relation between a certain object\nand a certain act, infers that the _like_ relation will be found in future\ncases. And the expressions we constantly use in our arguments--\"_analogy_\nimplies,\" \"the cases are not _parallel_,\" \"by _parity_ of reasoning,\"\n\"there is no _similarity_,\"--show how constantly the idea of likeness\nunderlies our ratiocinative processes.\n\nStill more clearly will this be seen on recognising the fact that there is\na certain parallelism between reasoning and classification; that the two\nhave a common root; and that neither can go on without the other. For on\nthe one hand, it is a familiar truth that the attributing to a body in\nconsequence of some of its properties, all those other properties in virtue\nof which it is referred to a particular class, is an act of inference. And,\non the other hand, the forming of a generalization is the putting together\nin one class, all those cases which present like relations; while the\ndrawing a deduction is essentially the perception that a particular case\nbelongs to a certain class of cases previously generalized. So that as\nclassification is a grouping together of _like things_; reasoning is a\ngrouping together of _like relations_ among things. Add to which, that\nwhile the perfection gradually achieved in classification consists in the\nformation of groups of _objects_ which are _completely alike_; the\nperfection gradually achieved in reasoning consists in the formation of\ngroups of _cases_ which are _completely alike_.\n\nOnce more we may contemplate this dominant idea of likeness as exhibited in\nart. All art, civilized as well as savage, consists almost wholly in the\nmaking of objects _like_ other objects; either as found in Nature, or as\nproduced by previous art. If we trace back the varied art-products now\nexisting, we find that at each stage the divergence from previous patterns\nis but small when compared with the agreement; and in the earliest art the\npersistency of imitation is yet more conspicuous. The old forms and\nornaments and symbols were held sacred, and perpetually copied. Indeed, the\nstrong imitative tendency notoriously displayed by the lowest human races,\nensures among them a constant reproducing of likenesses of things, forms,\nsigns, sounds, actions, and whatever else is imitable; and we may even\nsuspect that this aboriginal peculiarity is in some way connected with the\nculture and development of this general conception, which we have found so\ndeep and widespread in its applications.\n\nAnd now let us go on to consider how, by a further unfolding of this same\nfundamental notion, there is a gradual formation of the first germs of\nscience. This idea of likeness which underlies classification,\nnomenclature, language spoken and written, reasoning, and art; and which\nplays so important a part because all acts of intelligence are made\npossible only by distinguishing among surrounding things, or grouping them\ninto like and unlike;--this idea we shall find to be the one of which\nscience is the especial product. Already during the stage we have been\ndescribing, there has existed _qualitative_ prevision in respect to the\ncommoner phenomena with which savage life is familiar; and we have now to\ninquire how the elements of _quantitative_ prevision are evolved. We shall\nfind that they originate by the perfecting of this same idea of likeness;\nthat they have their rise in that conception of _complete likeness_ which,\nas we have seen, necessarily results from the continued process of\nclassification.\n\nFor when the process of classification has been carried as far as it is\npossible for the uncivilized to carry it--when the animal kingdom has been\ngrouped not merely into quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects, but each of\nthese divided into kinds--when there come to be sub-classes, in each of\nwhich the members differ only as individuals, and not specifically; it is\nclear that there must occur a frequent observation of objects which differ\nso little as to be indistinguishable. Among several creatures which the\nsavage has killed and carried home, it must often happen that some one,\nwhich he wished to identify, is so exactly like another that he cannot tell\nwhich is which. Thus, then, there originates the notion of _equality_. The\nthings which among ourselves are called _equal_--whether lines, angles,\nweights, temperatures, sounds or colours--are things which produce in us\nsensations that cannot be distinguished from each other. It is true that we\nnow apply the word _equal_ chiefly to the separate phenomena which objects\nexhibit, and not to groups of phenomena; but this limitation of the idea\nhas evidently arisen by subsequent analysis. And that the notion of\nequality did thus originate, will, we think, become obvious on remembering\nthat as there were no artificial objects from which it could have been\nabstracted, it must have been abstracted from natural objects; and that the\nvarious families of the animal kingdom chiefly furnish those natural\nobjects which display the requisite exactitude of likeness.\n\nThe same order of experiences out of which this general idea of equality is\nevolved, gives birth at the same time to a more complex idea of equality;\nor, rather, the process just described generates an idea of equality which\nfurther experience separates into two ideas--_equality of things_ and\n_equality of relations_. While organic, and more especially animal forms,\noccasionally exhibit this perfection of likeness out of which the notion of\nsimple equality arises, they more frequently exhibit only that kind of\nlikeness which we call _similarity_; and which is really compound equality.\nFor the similarity of two creatures of the same species but of different\nsizes, is of the same nature as the similarity of two geometrical figures.\nIn either case, any two parts of the one bear the same ratio to one\nanother, as the homologous parts of the other. Given in any species, the\nproportions found to exist among the bones, and we may, and zoologists do,\npredict from any one, the dimensions of the rest; just as, when knowing the\nproportions subsisting among the parts of a geometrical figure, we may,\nfrom the length of one, calculate the others. And if, in the case of\nsimilar geometrical figures, the similarity can be established only by\nproving exactness of proportion among the homologous parts; if we express\nthis relation between two parts in the one, and the corresponding parts in\nthe other, by the formula A is to B as _a_ is to _b_; if we otherwise write\nthis, A to B = _a_ to _b_; if, consequently, the fact we prove is that the\nrelation of A to B _equals_ the relation of _a_ to _b_; then it is manifest\nthat the fundamental conception of similarity is _equality of relations_.\n\nWith this explanation we shall be understood when we say that the notion of\nequality of relations is the basis of all exact reasoning. Already it has\nbeen shown that reasoning in general is a recognition of _likeness_ of\nrelations; and here we further find that while the notion of likeness of\nthings ultimately evolves the idea of simple equality, the notion of\nlikeness of relations evolves the idea of equality of relations: of which\nthe one is the concrete germ of exact science, while the other is its\nabstract germ.\n\nThose who cannot understand how the recognition of similarity in creatures\nof the same kind, can have any alliance with reasoning, will get over the\ndifficulty on remembering that the phenomena among which equality of\nrelations is thus perceived, are phenomena of the same order and are\npresent to the senses at the same time; while those among which developed\nreason perceives relations, are generally neither of the same order, nor\nsimultaneously present. And if further, they will call to mind how Cuvier\nand Owen, from a single part of a creature, as a tooth, construct the rest\nby a process of reasoning based on this equality of relations, they will\nsee that the two things are intimately connected, remote as they at first\nseem. But we anticipate. What it concerns us here to observe is, that from\nfamiliarity with organic forms there simultaneously arose the ideas of\n_simple equality_, and _equality of relations_.\n\nAt the same time, too, and out of the same mental processes, came the first\ndistinct ideas of _number_. In the earliest stages, the presentation of\nseveral like objects produced merely an indefinite conception of\nmultiplicity; as it still does among Australians, and Bushmen, and Damaras,\nwhen the number presented exceeds three or four. With such a fact before us\nwe may safely infer that the first clear numerical conception was that of\nduality as contrasted with unity. And this notion of duality must\nnecessarily have grown up side by side with those of likeness and equality;\nseeing that it is impossible to recognise the likeness of two things\nwithout also perceiving that there are two. From the very beginning the\nconception of number must have been, as it is still, associated with the\nlikeness or equality of the things numbered. If we analyze it, we find that\nsimple enumeration is a registration of repeated impressions of any kind.\nThat these may be capable of enumeration it is needful that they be more or\nless alike; and before any _absolutely true_ numerical results can be\nreached, it is requisite that the units be _absolutely equal_. The only way\nin which we can establish a numerical relationship between things that do\nnot yield us like impressions, is to divide them into parts that _do_ yield\nus like impressions. Two unlike magnitudes of extension, force, time,\nweight, or what not, can have their relative amounts estimated, only by\nmeans of some small unit that is contained many times in both; and even if\nwe finally write down the greater one as a unit and the other as a fraction\nof it, we state, in the denominator of the fraction, the number of parts\ninto which the unit must be divided to be comparable with the fraction.\n\nIt is, indeed, true, that by an evidently modern process of abstraction, we\noccasionally apply numbers to unequal units, as the furniture at a sale or\nthe various animals on a farm, simply as so many separate entities; but no\ntrue result can be brought out by calculation with units of this order.\nAnd, indeed, it is the distinctive peculiarity of the calculus in general,\nthat it proceeds on the hypothesis of that absolute equality of its\nabstract units, which no real units possess; and that the exactness of its\nresults holds only in virtue of this hypothesis. The first ideas of number\nmust necessarily then have been derived from like or equal magnitudes as\nseen chiefly in organic objects; and as the like magnitudes most frequently\nobserved were magnitudes of extension, it follows that geometry and\narithmetic had a simultaneous origin.\n\nNot only are the first distinct ideas of number co-ordinate with ideas of\nlikeness and equality, but the first efforts at numeration displayed the\nsame relationship. On reading the accounts of various savage tribes, we\nfind that the method of counting by the fingers, still followed by many\nchildren, is the aboriginal method. Neglecting the several cases in which\nthe ability to enumerate does not reach even to the number of fingers on\none hand, there are many cases in which it does not extend beyond ten--the\nlimit of the simple finger notation. The fact that in so many instances,\nremote, and seemingly unrelated nations, have adopted _ten_ as their basic\nnumber; together with the fact that in the remaining instances the basic\nnumber is either _five_ (the fingers of one hand) or _twenty_ (the fingers\nand toes); almost of themselves show that the fingers were the original\nunits of numeration. The still surviving use of the word _digit_, as the\ngeneral name for a figure in arithmetic, is significant; and it is even\nsaid that our word _ten_ (Sax. tyn; Dutch, tien; German, zehn) means in its\nprimitive expanded form _two hands_. So that originally, to say there were\nten things, was to say there were two hands of them.\n\nFrom all which evidence it is tolerably clear that the earliest mode of\nconveying the idea of any number of things, was by holding up as many\nfingers as there were things; that is--using a symbol which was _equal_, in\nrespect of multiplicity, to the group symbolized. For which inference there\nis, indeed, strong confirmation in the recent statement that our own\nsoldiers are even now spontaneously adopting this device in their dealings\nwith the Turks. And here it should be remarked that in this recombination\nof the notion of equality with that of multiplicity, by which the first\nsteps in numeration are effected, we may see one of the earliest of those\ninosculations between the diverging branches of science, which are\nafterwards of perpetual occurrence.\n\nIndeed, as this observation suggests, it will be well, before tracing the\nmode in which exact science finally emerges from the merely approximate\njudgments of the senses, and showing the non-serial evolution of its\ndivisions, to note the non-serial character of those preliminary processes\nof which all after development is a continuation. On re-considering them it\nwill be seen that not only are they divergent growths from a common\nroot,--not only are they simultaneous in their progress; but that they are\nmutual aids; and that none can advance without the rest. That completeness\nof classification for which the unfolding of the perceptions paves the way,\nis impossible without a corresponding progress in language, by which\ngreater varieties of objects are thinkable and expressible. On the one hand\nit is impossible to carry classification far without names by which to\ndesignate the classes; and on the other hand it is impossible to make\nlanguage faster than things are classified.\n\nAgain, the multiplication of classes and the consequent narrowing of each\nclass, itself involves a greater likeness among the things classed\ntogether; and the consequent approach towards the notion of complete\nlikeness itself allows classification to be carried higher. Moreover,\nclassification necessarily advances _pari passu_ with rationality--the\nclassification of _things_ with the classification of _relations_. For\nthings that belong to the same class are, by implication, things of which\nthe properties and modes of behaviour--the co-existences and sequences--are\nmore or less the same; and the recognition of this sameness of\nco-existences and sequences is reasoning. Whence it follows that the\nadvance of classification is necessarily proportionate to the advance of\ngeneralizations. Yet further, the notion of _likeness_, both in things and\nrelations, simultaneously evolves by one process of culture the ideas of\n_equality_ of things and _equality_ of relations; which are the respective\nbases of exact concrete reasoning and exact abstract reasoning--Mathematics\nand Logic. And once more, this idea of equality, in the very process of\nbeing formed, necessarily gives origin to two series of relations--those of\nmagnitude and those of number: from which arise geometry and the calculus.\nThus the process throughout is one of perpetual subdivision and perpetual\nintercommunication of the divisions. From the very first there has been\nthat _consensus_ of different kinds of knowledge, answering to the\n_consensus_ of the intellectual faculties, which, as already said, must\nexist among the sciences.\n\nLet us now go on to observe how, out of the notions of _equality_ and\n_number_, as arrived at in the manner described, there gradually arose the\nelements of quantitative prevision.\n\nEquality, once having come to be definitely conceived, was readily\napplicable to other phenomena than those of magnitude. Being predicable of\nall things producing indistinguishable impressions, there naturally grew up\nideas of equality in weights, sounds, colours, &c.; and indeed it can\nscarcely be doubted that the occasional experience of equal weights,\nsounds, and colours, had a share in developing the abstract conception of\nequality--that the ideas of equality in size, relations, forces,\nresistances, and sensible properties in general, were evolved during the\nsame period. But however this may be, it is clear that as fast as the\nnotion of equality gained definiteness, so fast did that lowest kind of\nquantitative prevision which is achieved without any instrumental aid,\nbecome possible.\n\nThe ability to estimate, however roughly, the amount of a foreseen result,\nimplies the conception that it will be _equal to_ a certain imagined\nquantity; and the correctness of the estimate will manifestly depend upon\nthe accuracy at which the perceptions of sensible equality have arrived. A\nsavage with a piece of stone in his hand, and another piece lying before\nhim of greater bulk but of the same kind (a fact which he infers from the\n_equality_ of the two in colour and texture) knows about what effort he\nmust put forth to raise this other piece; and he judges accurately in\nproportion to the accuracy with which he perceives that the one is twice,\nthree times, four times, &c. as large as the other; that is--in proportion\nto the precision of his ideas of equality and number. And here let us not\nomit to notice that even in these vaguest of quantitative previsions, the\nconception of _equality of relations_ is also involved. For it is only in\nvirtue of an undefined perception that the relation between bulk and weight\nin the one stone is _equal_ to the relation between bulk and weight in the\nother, that even the roughest approximation can be made.\n\nBut how came the transition from those uncertain perceptions of equality\nwhich the unaided senses give, to the certain ones with which science\ndeals? It came by placing the things compared in juxtaposition. Equality\nbeing predicated of things which give us indistinguishable impressions, and\nno accurate comparison of impressions being possible unless they occur in\nimmediate succession, it results that exactness of equality is\nascertainable in proportion to the closeness of the compared things. Hence\nthe fact that when we wish to judge of two shades of colour whether they\nare alike or not, we place them side by side; hence the fact that we\ncannot, with any precision, say which of two allied sounds is the louder,\nor the higher in pitch, unless we hear the one immediately after the other;\nhence the fact that to estimate the ratio of weights, we take one in each\nhand, that we may compare their pressures by rapidly alternating in thought\nfrom the one to the other; hence the fact, that in a piece of music, we can\ncontinue to make equal beats when the first beat has been given, but cannot\nensure commencing with the same length of beat on a future occasion; and\nhence, lastly, the fact, that of all magnitudes, those of _linear\nextension_ are those of which the equality is most accurately\nascertainable, and those to which by consequence all others have to be\nreduced. For it is the peculiarity of linear extension that it alone allows\nits magnitudes to be placed in _absolute_ juxtaposition, or, rather, in\ncoincident position; it alone can test the equality of two magnitudes by\nobserving whether they will coalesce, as two equal mathematical lines do,\nwhen placed between the same points; it alone can test _equality_ by trying\nwhether it will become _identity_. Hence, then, the fact, that all exact\nscience is reducible, by an ultimate analysis, to results measured in equal\nunits of linear extension.\n\nStill it remains to be noticed in what manner this determination of\nequality by comparison of linear magnitudes originated. Once more may we\nperceive that surrounding natural objects supplied the needful lessons.\nFrom the beginning there must have been a constant experience of like\nthings placed side by side--men standing and walking together; animals from\nthe same herd; fish from the same shoal. And the ceaseless repetition of\nthese experiences could not fail to suggest the observation, that the\nnearer together any objects were, the more visible became any inequality\nbetween them. Hence the obvious device of putting in apposition, things of\nwhich it was desired to ascertain the relative magnitudes. Hence the idea\nof _measure_. And here we suddenly come upon a group of facts which afford\na solid basis to the remainder of our argument; while they also furnish\nstrong evidence in support of the foregoing speculations. Those who look\nsceptically on this attempted rehabilitation of the earliest epochs of\nmental development, and who more especially think that the derivation of so\nmany primary notions from organic forms is somewhat strained, will perhaps\nsee more probability in the several hypotheses that have been ventured, on\ndiscovering that all measures of _extension_ and _force_ originated from\nthe lengths and weights of organic bodies; and all measures of _time_ from\nthe periodic phenomena of either organic or inorganic bodies.\n\nThus, among linear measures, the cubit of the Hebrews was the _length of\nthe forearm_ from the elbow to the end of the middle finger; and the\nsmaller scriptural dimensions are expressed in _hand-breadths_ and _spans_.\nThe Egyptian cubit, which was similarly derived, was divided into digits,\nwhich were _finger-breadths_; and each finger-breadth was more definitely\nexpressed as being equal to four _grains of barley_ placed breadthwise.\nOther ancient measures were the orgyia or _stretch of the arms_, the\n_pace_, and the _palm_. So persistent has been the use of these natural\nunits of length in the East, that even now some of the Arabs mete out cloth\nby the forearm. So, too, is it with European measures. The _foot_ prevails\nas a dimension throughout Europe, and has done since the time of the\nRomans, by whom, also, it was used: its lengths in different places varying\nnot much more than men's feet vary. The heights of horses are still\nexpressed in _hands_. The inch is the length of the terminal joint of _the\nthumb_; as is clearly shown in France, where _pouce_ means both thumb and\ninch. Then we have the inch divided into three _barley-corns_.\n\nSo completely, indeed, have these organic dimensions served as the\nsubstrata of all mensuration, that it is only by means of them that we can\nform any estimate of some of the ancient distances. For example, the length\nof a degree on the Earth's surface, as determined by the Arabian\nastronomers shortly after the death of Haroun-al-Raschid, was fifty-six of\ntheir miles. We know nothing of their mile further than that it was 4000\ncubits; and whether these were sacred cubits or common cubits, would remain\ndoubtful, but that the length of the cubit is given as twenty-seven inches,\nand each inch defined as the thickness of six barley-grains. Thus one of\nthe earliest measurements of a degree comes down to us in barley-grains.\nNot only did organic lengths furnish those approximate measures which\nsatisfied men's needs in ruder ages, but they furnished also the standard\nmeasures required in later times. One instance occurs in our own history.\nTo remedy the irregularities then prevailing, Henry I. commanded that the\nulna, or ancient ell, which answers to the modern yard, should be made of\nthe exact length of _his own arm_.\n\nMeasures of weight again had a like derivation. Seeds seem commonly to have\nsupplied the unit. The original of the carat used for weighing in India is\n_a small bean_. Our own systems, both troy and avoirdupois, are derived,\nprimarily from wheat-corns. Our smallest weight, the grain, is _a grain of\nwheat_. This is not a speculation; it is an historically registered fact.\nHenry III. enacted that an ounce should be the weight of 640 dry grains of\nwheat from the middle of the ear. And as all the other weights are\nmultiples or sub-multiples of this, it follows that the grain of wheat is\nthe basis of our scale. So natural is it to use organic bodies as weights,\nbefore artificial weights have been established, or where they are not to\nbe had, that in some of the remoter parts of Ireland the people are said to\nbe in the habit, even now, of putting a man into the scales to serve as a\nmeasure for heavy commodities.\n\nSimilarly with time. Astronomical periodicity, and the periodicity of\nanimal and vegetable life, are simultaneously used in the first stages of\nprogress for estimating epochs. The simplest unit of time, the day, nature\nsupplies ready made. The next simplest period, the mooneth or month, is\nalso thrust upon men's notice by the conspicuous changes constituting a\nlunation. For larger divisions than these, the phenomena of the seasons,\nand the chief events from time to time occurring, have been used by early\nand uncivilized races. Among the Egyptians the rising of the Nile served as\na mark. The New Zealanders were found to begin their year from the\nreappearance of the Pleiades above the sea. One of the uses ascribed to\nbirds, by the Greeks, was to indicate the seasons by their migrations.\nBarrow describes the aboriginal Hottentot as denoting periods by the number\nof moons before or after the ripening of one of his chief articles of food.\nHe further states that the Kaffir chronology is kept by the moon, and is\nregistered by notches on sticks--the death of a favourite chief, or the\ngaining of a victory, serving for a new era. By which last fact, we are at\nonce reminded that in early history, events are commonly recorded as\noccurring in certain reigns, and in certain years of certain reigns: a\nproceeding which practically made a king's reign a measure of duration.\n\nAnd, as further illustrating the tendency to divide time by natural\nphenomena and natural events, it may be noticed that even by our own\npeasantry the definite divisions of months and years are but little used;\nand that they habitually refer to occurrences as \"before sheep-shearing,\"\nor \"after harvest,\" or \"about the time when the squire died.\" It is\nmanifest, therefore, that the more or less equal periods perceived in\nNature gave the first units of measure for time; as did Nature's more or\nless equal lengths and weights give the first units of measure for space\nand force.\n\nIt remains only to observe, as further illustrating the evolution of\nquantitative ideas after this manner, that measures of value were similarly\nderived. Barter, in one form or other, is found among all but the very\nlowest human races. It is obviously based upon the notion of _equality of\nworth_. And as it gradually merges into trade by the introduction of some\nkind of currency, we find that the _measures of worth_, constituting this\ncurrency, are organic bodies; in some cases _cowries_, in others\n_cocoa-nuts_, in others _cattle_, in others _pigs_; among the American\nIndians peltry or _skins_, and in Iceland _dried fish_.\n\nNotions of exact equality and of measure having been reached, there came to\nbe definite ideas of relative magnitudes as being multiples one of another;\nwhence the practice of measurement by direct apposition of a measure. The\ndetermination of linear extensions by this process can scarcely be called\nscience, though it is a step towards it; but the determination of lengths\nof time by an analogous process may be considered as one of the earliest\nsamples of quantitative prevision. For when it is first ascertained that\nthe moon completes the cycle of her changes in about thirty days--a fact\nknown to most uncivilized tribes that can count beyond the number of their\nfingers--it is manifest that it becomes possible to say in what number of\ndays any specified phase of the moon will recur; and it is also manifest\nthat this prevision is effected by an opposition of two times, after the\nsame manner that linear space is measured by the opposition of two lines.\nFor to express the moon's period in days, is to say how many of these units\nof measure are contained in the period to be measured--is to ascertain the\ndistance between two points in time by means of a _scale of days_, just as\nwe ascertain the distance between two points in space by a scale of feet or\ninches: and in each case the scale coincides with the thing\nmeasured--mentally in the one; visibly in the other. So that in this\nsimplest, and perhaps earliest case of quantitative prevision, the\nphenomena are not only thrust daily upon men's notice, but Nature is, as it\nwere, perpetually repeating that process of measurement by observing which\nthe prevision is effected. And thus there may be significance in the remark\nwhich some have made, that alike in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, there is an\naffinity between the word meaning moon, and that meaning measure.\n\nThis fact, that in very early stages of social progress it is known that\nthe moon goes through her changes in about thirty days, and that in about\ntwelve moons the seasons return--this fact that chronological astronomy\nassumes a certain scientific character even before geometry does; while it\nis partly due to the circumstance that the astronomical divisions, day,\nmonth, and year, are ready made for us, is partly due to the further\ncircumstances that agricultural and other operations were at first\nregulated astronomically, and that from the supposed divine nature of the\nheavenly bodies their motions determined the periodical religious\nfestivals. As instances of the one we have the observation of the\nEgyptians, that the rising of the Nile corresponded with the heliacal\nrising of Sirius; the directions given by Hesiod for reaping and ploughing,\naccording to the positions of the Pleiades; and his maxim that \"fifty days\nafter the turning of the sun is a seasonable time for beginning a voyage.\"\nAs instances of the other, we have the naming of the days after the sun,\nmoon, and planets; the early attempts among Eastern nations to regulate the\ncalendar so that the gods might not be offended by the displacement of\ntheir sacrifices; and the fixing of the great annual festival of the\nPeruvians by the position of the sun. In all which facts we see that, at\nfirst, science was simply an appliance of religion and industry.\n\nAfter the discoveries that a lunation occupies nearly thirty days, and that\nsome twelve lunations occupy a year--discoveries of which there is no\nhistorical account, but which may be inferred as the earliest, from the\nfact that existing uncivilized races have made them--we come to the first\nknown astronomical records, which are those of eclipses. The Chaldeans were\nable to predict these. \"This they did, probably,\" says Dr. Whewell in his\nuseful history, from which most of the materials we are about to use will\nbe drawn, \"by means of their cycle of 223 months, or about eighteen years;\nfor at the end of this time, the eclipses of the moon begin to return, at\nthe same intervals and in the same order as at the beginning.\" Now this\nmethod of calculating eclipses by means of a recurring cycle,--the _Saros_\nas they called it--is a more complex case of prevision by means of\ncoincidence of measures. For by what observations must the Chaldeans have\ndiscovered this cycle? Obviously, as Delambre infers, by inspecting their\nregisters; by comparing the successive intervals; by finding that some of\nthe intervals were alike; by seeing that these equal intervals were\neighteen years apart; by discovering that _all_ the intervals that were\neighteen years apart were equal; by ascertaining that the intervals formed\na series which repeated itself, so that if one of the cycles of intervals\nwere superposed on another the divisions would fit. This once perceived,\nand it manifestly became possible to use the cycle as a scale of time by\nwhich to measure out future periods. Seeing thus that the process of so\npredicting eclipses, is in essence the same as that of predicting the\nmoon's monthly changes by observing the number of days after which they\nrepeat--seeing that the two differ only in the extent and irregularity of\nthe intervals, it is not difficult to understand how such an amount of\nknowledge should so early have been reached. And we shall be less\nsurprised, on remembering that the only things involved in these previsions\nwere _time_ and _number_; and that the time was in a manner self-numbered.\n\nStill, the ability to predict events recurring only after so long a period\nas eighteen years, implies a considerable advance in civilization--a\nconsiderable development of general knowledge; and we have now to inquire\nwhat progress in other sciences accompanied, and was necessary to, these\nastronomical previsions. In the first place, there must clearly have been a\ntolerably efficient system of calculation. Mere finger-counting, mere\nhead-reckoning, even with the aid of a regular decimal notation, could not\nhave sufficed for numbering the days in a year; much less the years,\nmonths, and days between eclipses. Consequently there must have been a mode\nof registering numbers; probably even a system of numerals. The earliest\nnumerical records, if we may judge by the practices of the less civilized\nraces now existing, were probably kept by notches cut on sticks, or strokes\nmarked on walls; much as public-house scores are kept now. And there seems\nreason to believe that the first numerals used were simply groups of\nstraight strokes, as some of the still-extant Roman ones are; leading us to\nsuspect that these groups of strokes were used to represent groups of\nfingers, as the groups of fingers had been used to represent groups of\nobjects--a supposition quite in conformity with the aboriginal system of\npicture writing and its subsequent modifications. Be this so or not,\nhowever, it is manifest that before the Chaldeans discovered their _Saros_,\nthere must have been both a set of written symbols serving for an extensive\nnumeration, and a familiarity with the simpler rules of arithmetic.\n\nNot only must abstract mathematics have made some progress, but concrete\nmathematics also. It is scarcely possible that the buildings belonging to\nthis era should have been laid out and erected without any knowledge of\ngeometry. At any rate, there must have existed that elementary geometry\nwhich deals with direct measurement--with the apposition of lines; and it\nseems that only after the discovery of those simple proceedings, by which\nright angles are drawn, and relative positions fixed, could so regular an\narchitecture be executed. In the case of the other division of concrete\nmathematics--mechanics, we have definite evidence of progress. We know that\nthe lever and the inclined plane were employed during this period: implying\nthat there was a qualitative prevision of their effects, though not a\nquantitative one. But we know more. We read of weights in the earliest\nrecords; and we find weights in ruins of the highest antiquity. Weights\nimply scales, of which we have also mention; and scales involve the primary\ntheorem of mechanics in its least complicated form--involve not a\nqualitative but a quantitative prevision of mechanical effects. And here we\nmay notice how mechanics, in common with the other exact sciences, took its\nrise from the simplest application of the idea of _equality_. For the\nmechanical proposition which the scales involve, is, that if a lever with\n_equal_ arms, have _equal_ weights suspended from them, the weights will\nremain at _equal_ altitudes. And we may further notice, how, in this first\nstep of rational mechanics, we see illustrated that truth awhile since\nreferred to, that as magnitudes of linear extension are the only ones of\nwhich the equality is exactly ascertainable, the equalities of other\nmagnitudes have at the outset to be determined by means of them. For the\nequality of the weights which balance each other in scales, wholly depends\nupon the equality of the arms: we can know that the weights are equal only\nby proving that the arms are equal. And when by this means we have obtained\na system of weights,--a set of equal units of force, then does a science of\nmechanics become possible. Whence, indeed, it follows, that rational\nmechanics could not possibly have any other starting-point than the scales.\n\nLet us further remember, that during this same period there was a limited\nknowledge of chemistry. The many arts which we know to have been carried on\nmust have been impossible without a generalized experience of the modes in\nwhich certain bodies affect each other under special conditions. In\nmetallurgy, which was extensively practised, this is abundantly\nillustrated. And we even have evidence that in some cases the knowledge\npossessed was, in a sense, quantitative. For, as we find by analysis that\nthe hard alloy of which the Egyptians made their cutting tools, was\ncomposed of copper and tin in fixed proportions, there must have been an\nestablished prevision that such an alloy was to be obtained only by mixing\nthem in these proportions. It is true, this was but a simple empirical\ngeneralization; but so was the generalization respecting the recurrence of\neclipses; so are the first generalizations of every science.\n\nRespecting the simultaneous advance of the sciences during this early\nepoch, it only remains to remark that even the most complex of them must\nhave made some progress--perhaps even a greater relative progress than any\nof the rest. For under what conditions only were the foregoing developments\npossible? There first required an established and organized social system.\nA long continued registry of eclipses; the building of palaces; the use of\nscales; the practice of metallurgy--alike imply a fixed and populous\nnation. The existence of such a nation not only presupposes laws, and some\nadministration of justice, which we know existed, but it presupposes\nsuccessful laws--laws conforming in some degree to the conditions of social\nstability--laws enacted because it was seen that the actions forbidden by\nthem were dangerous to the State. We do not by any means say that all, or\neven the greater part, of the laws were of this nature; but we do say, that\nthe fundamental ones were. It cannot be denied that the laws affecting life\nand property were such. It cannot be denied that, however little these were\nenforced between class and class, they were to a considerable extent\nenforced between members of the same class. It can scarcely be questioned,\nthat the administration of them between members of the same class was seen\nby rulers to be necessary for keeping their subjects together. And knowing,\nas we do, that, other things equal, nations prosper in proportion to the\njustness of their arrangements, we may fairly infer that the very cause of\nthe advance of these earliest nations out of aboriginal barbarism, was the\ngreater recognition among them of the claims to life and property.\n\nBut supposition aside, it is clear that the habitual recognition of these\nclaims in their laws, implied some prevision of social phenomena. Even thus\nearly there was a certain amount of social science. Nay, it may even be\nshown that there was a vague recognition of that fundamental principle on\nwhich all the true social science is based--the equal rights of all to the\nfree exercise of their faculties. That same idea of _equality_, which, as\nwe have seen, underlies all other science, underlies also morals and\nsociology. The conception of justice, which is the primary one in morals;\nand the administration of justice, which is the vital condition of social\nexistence; are impossible, without the recognition of a certain likeness in\nmen's claims, in virtue of their common humanity. _Equity_ literally means\n_equalness_; and if it be admitted that there were even the vaguest ideas\nof equity in these primitive eras, it must be admitted that there was some\nappreciation of the equalness of men's liberties to pursue the objects of\nlife--some appreciation, therefore, of the essential principle of national\nequilibrium.\n\nThus in this initial stage of the positive sciences, before geometry had\nyet done more than evolve a few empirical rules--before mechanics had\npassed beyond its first theorem--before astronomy had advanced from its\nmerely chronological phase into the geometrical; the most involved of the\nsciences had reached a certain degree of development--a development without\nwhich no progress in other sciences was possible.\n\nOnly noting as we pass, how, thus early, we may see that the progress of\nexact science was not only towards an increasing number of previsions, but\ntowards previsions more accurately quantitative--how, in astronomy, the\nrecurring period of the moon's motions was by and by more correctly\nascertained to be nineteen years, or two hundred and thirty-five lunations;\nhow Callipus further corrected this Metonic cycle, by leaving out a day at\nthe end of every seventy-six years; and how these successive advances\nimplied a longer continued registry of observations, and the co-ordination\nof a greater number of facts--let us go on to inquire how geometrical\nastronomy took its rise.\n\nThe first astronomical instrument was the gnomon. This was not only early\nin use in the East, but it was found also among the Mexicans; the sole\nastronomical observations of the Peruvians were made by it; and we read\nthat 1100 B.C., the Chinese found that, at a certain place, the length of\nthe sun's shadow, at the summer solstice, was to the height of the gnomon,\nas one and a half to eight. Here again it is observable, not only that the\ninstrument is found ready made, but that Nature is perpetually performing\nthe process of measurement. Any fixed, erect object--a column, a dead palm,\na pole, the angle of a building--serves for a gnomon; and it needs but to\nnotice the changing position of the shadow it daily throws, to make the\nfirst step in geometrical astronomy. How small this first step was, may be\nseen in the fact that the only things ascertained at the outset were the\nperiods of the summer and winter solstices, which corresponded with the\nleast and greatest lengths of the mid-day shadow; and to fix which, it was\nneedful merely to mark the point to which each day's shadow reached.\n\nAnd now let it not be overlooked that in the observing at what time during\nthe next year this extreme limit of the shadow was again reached, and in\nthe inference that the sun had then arrived at the same turning point in\nhis annual course, we have one of the simplest instances of that combined\nuse of _equal magnitudes_ and _equal relations_, by which all exact\nscience, all quantitative prevision, is reached. For the relation observed\nwas between the length of the sun's shadow and his position in the heavens;\nand the inference drawn was that when, next year, the extremity of his\nshadow came to the same point, he occupied the same place. That is, the,\nideas involved were, the equality of the shadows, and the equality of the\nrelations between shadow and sun in successive years. As in the case of the\nscales, the equality of relations here recognized is of the simplest order.\nIt is not as those habitually dealt with in the higher kinds of scientific\nreasoning, which answer to the general type--the relation between two and\nthree equals the relation between six and nine; but it follows the\ntype--the relation between two and three, equals the relation between two\nand three; it is a case of not simply _equal_ relations, but _coinciding_\nrelations. And here, indeed, we may see beautifully illustrated how the\nidea of equal relations takes its rise after the same manner that that of\nequal magnitude does. As already shown, the idea of equal magnitudes arose\nfrom the observed coincidence of two lengths placed together; and in this\ncase we have not only two coincident lengths of shadows, but two coincident\nrelations between sun and shadows.\n\nFrom the use of the gnomon there naturally grew up the conception of\nangular measurements; and with the advance of geometrical conceptions there\ncame the hemisphere of Berosus, the equinoctial armil, the solstitial\narmil, and the quadrant of Ptolemy--all of them employing shadows as\nindices of the sun's position, but in combination with angular divisions.\nIt is obviously out of the question for us here to trace these details of\nprogress. It must suffice to remark that in all of them we may see that\nnotion of equality of relations of a more complex kind, which is best\nillustrated in the astrolabe, an instrument which consisted \"of circular\nrims, moveable one within the other, or about poles, and contained circles\nwhich were to be brought into the position of the ecliptic, and of a plane\npassing through the sun and the poles of the ecliptic\"--an instrument,\ntherefore, which represented, as by a model, the relative positions of\ncertain imaginary lines and planes in the heavens; which was adjusted by\nputting these representative lines and planes into parallelism and\ncoincidence with the celestial ones; and which depended for its use upon\nthe perception that the relations between these representative lines and\nplanes were _equal_ to the relations between those represented.\n\nWere there space, we might go on to point out how the conception of the\nheavens as a revolving hollow sphere, the discovery of the globular form of\nthe earth, the explanation of the moon's phases, and indeed all the\nsuccessive steps taken, involved this same mental process. But we must\ncontent ourselves with referring to the theory of eccentrics and epicycles,\nas a further marked illustration of it. As first suggested, and as proved\nby Hipparchus to afford an explanation of the leading irregularities in the\ncelestial motions, this theory involved the perception that the\nprogressions, retrogressions, and variations of velocity seen in the\nheavenly bodies, might be reconciled with their assumed uniform movement in\ncircles, by supposing that the earth was not in the centre of their orbits;\nor by supposing that they revolved in circles whose centres revolved round\nthe earth; or by both. The discovery that this would account for the\nappearances, was the discovery that in certain geometrical diagrams the\nrelations were such, that the uniform motion of a point would, when looked\nat from a particular position, present analogous irregularities; and the\ncalculations of Hipparchus involved the belief that the relations\nsubsisting among these geometrical curves were _equal_ to the relations\nsubsisting among the celestial orbits.\n\nLeaving here these details of astronomical progress, and the philosophy of\nit, let us observe how the relatively concrete science of geometrical\nastronomy, having been thus far helped forward by the development of\ngeometry in general, reacted upon geometry, caused it also to advance, and\nwas again assisted by it. Hipparchus, before making his solar and lunar\ntables, had to discover rules for calculating the relations between the\nsides and angles of triangles--_trigonometry_, a subdivision of pure\nmathematics. Further, the reduction of the doctrine of the sphere to the\nquantitative form needed for astronomical purposes, required the formation\nof a _spherical trigonometry_, which was also achieved by Hipparchus. Thus\nboth plane and spherical trigonometry, which are parts of the highly\nabstract and simple science of extension, remained undeveloped until the\nless abstract and more complex science of the celestial motions had need of\nthem. The fact admitted by M. Comte, that since Descartes the progress of\nthe abstract division of mathematics has been determined by that of the\nconcrete division, is paralleled by the still more significant fact that\neven thus early the progress of mathematics was determined by that of\nastronomy.\n\nAnd here, indeed, we may see exemplified the truth, which the subsequent\nhistory of science frequently illustrates, that before any more abstract\ndivision makes a further advance, some more concrete division must suggest\nthe necessity for that advance--must present the new order of questions to\nbe solved. Before astronomy presented Hipparchus with the problem of solar\ntables, there was nothing to raise the question of the relations between\nlines and angles; the subject-matter of trigonometry had not been\nconceived. And as there must be subject-matter before there can be\ninvestigation, it follows that the progress of the concrete divisions is as\nnecessary to that of the abstract, as the progress of the abstract to that\nof the concrete.\n\nJust incidentally noticing the circumstance that the epoch we are\ndescribing witnessed the evolution of algebra, a comparatively abstract\ndivision of mathematics, by the union of its less abstract divisions,\ngeometry and arithmetic--a fact proved by the earliest extant samples of\nalgebra, which are half algebraic, half geometric--we go on to observe that\nduring the era in which mathematics and astronomy were thus advancing,\nrational mechanics made its second step; and something was done towards\ngiving a quantitative form to hydrostatics, optics, and harmonics. In each\ncase we shall see as before, how the idea of equality underlies all\nquantitative prevision; and in what simple forms this idea is first\napplied.\n\nAs already shown, the first theorem established in mechanics was, that\nequal weights suspended from a lever with equal arms would remain in\nequilibrium. Archimedes discovered that a lever with unequal arms was in\nequilibrium when one weight was to its arm as the other arm to its weight;\nthat is--when the numerical relation between one weight and its arm was\n_equal_ to the numerical relation between the other arm and its weight.\n\nThe first advance made in hydrostatics, which we also owe to Archimedes,\nwas the discovery that fluids press _equally_ in all directions; and from\nthis followed the solution of the problem of floating bodies: namely, that\nthey are in equilibrium when the upward and downward pressures are _equal_.\n\nIn optics, again, the Greeks found that the angle of incidence is _equal_\nto the angle of reflection; and their knowledge reached no further than to\nsuch simple deductions from this as their geometry sufficed for. In\nharmonics they ascertained the fact that three strings of _equal_ lengths\nwould yield the octave, fifth and fourth, when strained by weights having\ncertain definite ratios; and they did not progress much beyond this. In the\none of which cases we see geometry used in elucidation of the laws of\nlight; and in the other, geometry and arithmetic made to measure the\nphenomena of sound.\n\nDid space permit, it would be desirable here to describe the state of the\nless advanced sciences--to point out how, while a few had thus reached the\nfirst stages of quantitative prevision, the rest were progressing in\nqualitative prevision--how some small generalizations were made respecting\nevaporation, and heat, and electricity, and magnetism, which, empirical as\nthey were, did not in that respect differ from the first generalizations of\nevery science--how the Greek physicians had made advances in physiology and\npathology, which, considering the great imperfection of our present\nknowledge, are by no means to be despised--how zoology had been so far\nsystematized by Aristotle, as, to some extent, enabled him from the\npresence of certain organs to predict the presence of others--how in\nAristotle's _Politics_, there is some progress towards a scientific\nconception of social phenomena, and sundry previsions respecting them--and\nhow in the state of the Greek societies, as well as in the writings of\nGreek philosophers, we may recognise not only an increasing clearness in\nthat conception of equity on which the social science is based, but also\nsome appreciation of the fact that social stability depends upon the\nmaintenance of equitable regulations. We might dwell at length upon the\ncauses which retarded the development of some of the sciences, as for\nexample, chemistry: showing that relative complexity had nothing to do with\nit--that the oxidation of a piece of iron is a simpler phenomenon than the\nrecurrence of eclipses, and the discovery of carbonic acid less difficult\nthan that of the precession of the equinoxes--but that the relatively slow\nadvance of chemical knowledge was due, partly to the fact that its\nphenomena were not daily thrust on men's notice as those of astronomy were;\npartly to the fact that Nature does not habitually supply the means, and\nsuggest the modes of investigation, as in the sciences dealing with time,\nextension, and force; and partly to the fact that the great majority of the\nmaterials with which chemistry deals, instead of being ready to hand, are\nmade known only by the arts in their slow growth; and partly to the fact\nthat even when known, their chemical properties are not self-exhibited, but\nhave to be sought out by experiment.\n\nMerely indicating all these considerations, however, let us go on to\ncontemplate the progress and mutual influence of the sciences in modern\ndays; only parenthetically noticing how, on the revival of the scientific\nspirit, the successive stages achieved exhibit the dominance of the same\nlaw hitherto traced--how the primary idea in dynamics, a uniform force, was\ndefined by Galileo to be a force which generates _equal_ velocities in\n_equal_ successive times--how the uniform action of gravity was first\nexperimentally determined by showing that the time elapsing before a body\nthrown up, stopped, was _equal_ to the time it took to fall--how the first\nfact in compound motion which Galileo ascertained was, that a body\nprojected horizontally will have a uniform motion onwards and a uniformly\naccelerated motion downwards; that is, will describe _equal_ horizontal\nspaces in _equal_ times, compounded with _equal_ vertical increments in\n_equal_ times--how his discovery respecting the pendulum was, that its\noscillations occupy _equal_ intervals of time whatever their length--how\nthe principle of virtual velocities which he established is, that in any\nmachine the weights that balance each other, are reciprocally as their\nvirtual velocities; that is, the relation of one set of weights to their\nvelocities _equals_ the relation of the other set of velocities to their\nweights;--and how thus his achievements consisted in showing the equalities\nof certain magnitudes and relations, whose equalities had not been\npreviously recognised.\n\nWhen mechanics had reached the point to which Galileo brought it--when the\nsimple laws of force had been disentangled from the friction and\natmospheric resistance by which all their earthly manifestations are\ndisguised--when progressing knowledge of _physics_ had given a due insight\ninto these disturbing causes--when, by an effort of abstraction, it was\nperceived that all motion would be uniform and rectilinear unless\ninterfered with by external forces--and when the various consequences of\nthis perception had been worked out; then it became possible, by the union\nof geometry and mechanics, to initiate physical astronomy. Geometry and\nmechanics having diverged from a common root in men's sensible experiences;\nhaving, with occasional inosculations, been separately developed, the one\npartly in connexion with astronomy, the other solely by analyzing\nterrestrial movements; now join in the investigations of Newton to create a\ntrue theory of the celestial motions. And here, also, we have to notice the\nimportant fact that, in the very process of being brought jointly to bear\nupon astronomical problems, they are themselves raised to a higher phase of\ndevelopment. For it was in dealing with the questions raised by celestial\ndynamics that the then incipient infinitesimal calculus was unfolded by\nNewton and his continental successors; and it was from inquiries into the\nmechanics of the solar system that the general theorems of mechanics\ncontained in the \"Principia,\"--many of them of purely terrestrial\napplication--took their rise. Thus, as in the case of Hipparchus, the\npresentation of a new order of concrete facts to be analyzed, led to the\ndiscovery of new abstract facts; and these abstract facts having been laid\nhold of, gave means of access to endless groups of concrete facts before\nincapable of quantitative treatment.\n\nMeanwhile, physics had been carrying further that progress without which,\nas just shown, rational mechanics could not be disentangled. In\nhydrostatics, Stevinus had extended and applied the discovery of\nArchimedes. Torricelli had proved atmospheric pressure, \"by showing that\nthis pressure sustained different liquids at heights inversely proportional\nto their densities;\" and Pascal \"established the necessary diminution of\nthis pressure at increasing heights in the atmosphere:\" discoveries which\nin part reduced this branch of science to a quantitative form. Something\nhad been done by Daniel Bernoulli towards the dynamics of fluids. The\nthermometer had been invented; and a number of small generalizations\nreached by it. Huyghens and Newton had made considerable progress in\noptics; Newton had approximately calculated the rate of transmission of\nsound; and the continental mathematicians had succeeded in determining some\nof the laws of sonorous vibrations. Magnetism and electricity had been\nconsiderably advanced by Gilbert. Chemistry had got as far as the mutual\nneutralization of acids and alkalies. And Leonardo da Vinci had advanced in\ngeology to the conception of the deposition of marine strata as the origin\nof fossils. Our present purpose does not require that we should give\nparticulars. All that it here concerns us to do is to illustrate the\n_consensus_ subsisting in this stage of growth, and afterwards. Let as look\nat a few cases.\n\nThe theoretic law of the velocity of sound enunciated by Newton on purely\nmechanical considerations, was found wrong by one-sixth. The error remained\nunaccounted for until the time of Laplace, who, suspecting that the heat\ndisengaged by the compression of the undulating strata of the air, gave\nadditional elasticity, and so produced the difference, made the needful\ncalculations and found he was right. Thus acoustics was arrested until\nthermology overtook and aided it. When Boyle and Marriot had discovered the\nrelation between the density of gases and the pressures they are subject\nto; and when it thus became possible to calculate the rate of decreasing\ndensity in the upper parts of the atmosphere; it also became possible to\nmake approximate tables of the atmospheric refraction of light. Thus\noptics, and with it astronomy, advanced with barology. After the discovery\nof atmospheric pressure had led to the invention of the air-pump by Otto\nGuericke; and after it had become known that evaporation increases in\nrapidity as atmospheric pressure decreases; it became possible for Leslie,\nby evaporation in a vacuum, to produce the greatest cold known; and so to\nextend our knowledge of thermology by showing that there is no zero within\nreach of our researches. When Fourier had determined the laws of conduction\nof heat, and when the Earth's temperature had been found to increase below\nthe surface one degree in every forty yards, there were data for inferring\nthe past condition of our globe; the vast period it has taken to cool down\nto its present state; and the immense age of the solar system--a purely\nastronomical consideration.\n\nChemistry having advanced sufficiently to supply the needful materials, and\na physiological experiment having furnished the requisite hint, there came\nthe discovery of galvanic electricity. Galvanism reacting on chemistry\ndisclosed the metallic bases of the alkalies, and inaugurated the\nelectro-chemical theory; in the hands of Oersted and Ampere it led to the\nlaws of magnetic action; and by its aid Faraday has detected significant\nfacts relative to the constitution of light. Brewster's discoveries\nrespecting double refraction and dipolarization proved the essential truth\nof the classification of crystalline forms according to the number of axes,\nby showing that the molecular constitution depends upon the axes. In these\nand in numerous other cases, the mutual influence of the sciences has been\nquite independent of any supposed hierarchical order. Often, too, their\ninter-actions are more complex than as thus instanced--involve more\nsciences than two. One illustration of this must suffice. We quote it in\nfull from the _History of the Inductive Sciences_. In Book XI., chap. II.,\non \"The Progress of the Electrical Theory,\" Dr. Whewell writes:--\n\n  \"Thus at that period, mathematics was behind experiment, and a\n  problem was proposed, in which theoretical results were wanted for\n  comparison with observation, but could not be accurately obtained; as\n  was the case in astronomy also, till the time of the approximate\n  solution of the problem of three bodies, and the consequent formation\n  of the tables of the moon and planets, on the theory of universal\n  gravitation. After some time, electrical theory was relieved from\n  this reproach, mainly in consequence of the progress which astronomy\n  had occasioned in pure mathematics. About 1801 there appeared in the\n  _Bulletin des Sciences_, an exact solution of the problem of the\n  distribution of electric fluid on a spheroid, obtained by Biot, by\n  the application of the peculiar methods which Laplace had invented\n  for the problem of the figure of the planets. And, in 1811, M.\n  Poisson applied Laplace's artifices to the case of two spheres acting\n  upon one another in contact, a case to which many of Coulomb's\n  experiments were referrible; and the agreement of the results of\n  theory and observation, thus extricated from Coulomb's numbers\n  obtained above forty years previously, was very striking and\n  convincing.\"\n\nNot only do the sciences affect each other after this direct manner, but\nthey affect each other indirectly. Where there is no dependence, there is\nyet analogy--_equality of relations_; and the discovery of the relations\nsubsisting among one set of phenomena, constantly suggests a search for the\nsame relations among another set. Thus the established fact that the force\nof gravitation varies inversely as the square of the distance, being\nrecognized as a necessary characteristic of all influences proceeding from\na centre, raised the suspicion that heat and light follow the same law;\nwhich proved to be the case--a suspicion and a confirmation which were\nrepeated in respect to the electric and magnetic forces. Thus again the\ndiscovery of the polarization of light led to experiments which ended in\nthe discovery of the polarization of heat--a discovery that could never\nhave been made without the antecedent one. Thus, too, the known\nrefrangibility of light and heat lately produced the inquiry whether sound\nalso is not refrangible; which on trial it turns out to be.\n\nIn some cases, indeed, it is only by the aid of conceptions derived from\none class of phenomena that hypotheses respecting other classes can be\nformed. The theory, at one time favoured, that evaporation is a solution of\nwater in air, was an assumption that the relation between water and air is\n_like_ the relation between salt and water; and could never have been\nconceived if the relation between salt and water had not been previously\nknown. Similarly the received theory of evaporation--that it is a diffusion\nof the particles of the evaporating fluid in virtue of their atomic\nrepulsion--could not have been entertained without a foregoing experience\nof magnetic and electric repulsions. So complete in recent days has become\nthis _consensus_ among the sciences, caused either by the natural\nentanglement of their phenomena, or by analogies in the relations of their\nphenomena, that scarcely any considerable discovery concerning one order of\nfacts now takes place, without very shortly leading to discoveries\nconcerning other orders.\n\nTo produce a tolerably complete conception of this process of scientific\nevolution, it would be needful to go back to the beginning, and trace in\ndetail the growth of classifications and nomenclatures; and to show how, as\nsubsidiary to science, they have acted upon it, and it has reacted upon\nthem. We can only now remark that, on the one hand, classifications and\nnomenclatures have aided science by continually subdividing the\nsubject-matter of research, and giving fixity and diffusion to the truths\ndisclosed; and that on the other hand, they have caught from it that\nincreasing quantitativeness, and that progress from considerations touching\nsingle phenomena to considerations touching the relations among many\nphenomena, which we have been describing.\n\nOf this last influence a few illustrations must be given. In chemistry it\nis seen in the facts, that the dividing of matter into the four elements\nwas ostensibly based upon the single property of weight; that the first\ntruly chemical division into acid and alkaline bodies, grouped together\nbodies which had not simply one property in common, but in which one\nproperty was constantly related to many others; and that the classification\nnow current, places together in groups _supporters of combustion_,\n_metallic and non-metallic bases_, _acids_, _salts_, &c., bodies which are\noften quite unlike in sensible qualities, but which are like in the\nmajority of their _relations_ to other bodies. In mineralogy again, the\nfirst classifications were based upon differences in aspect, texture, and\nother physical attributes. Berzelius made two attempts at a classification\nbased solely on chemical constitution. That now current, recognises as far\nas possible the _relations_ between physical and chemical characters. In\nbotany the earliest classes formed were _trees_, _shrubs_, and _herbs_:\nmagnitude being the basis of distinction. Dioscorides divided vegetables\ninto _aromatic_, _alimentary_, _medicinal_, and _vinous_: a division of\nchemical character. Caesalpinus classified them by the seeds, and\nseed-vessels, which he preferred because of the _relations_ found to\nsubsist between the character of the fructification and the general\ncharacter of the other parts.\n\nWhile the \"natural system\" since developed, carrying out the doctrine of\nLinnaeus, that \"natural orders must be formed by attention not to one or\ntwo, but to _all_ the parts of plants,\" bases its divisions on like\npeculiarities which are found to be _constantly related_ to the greatest\nnumber of other like peculiarities. And similarly in zoology, the\nsuccessive classifications, from having been originally determined by\nexternal and often subordinate characters not indicative of the essential\nnature, have been gradually more and more determined by those internal and\nfundamental differences, which have uniform _relations_ to the greatest\nnumber of other differences. Nor shall we be surprised at this analogy\nbetween the modes of progress of positive science and classification, when\nwe bear in mind that both proceed by making generalizations; that both\nenable us to make previsions differing only in their precision; and that\nwhile the one deals with equal properties and relations, the other deals\nwith properties and relations that approximate towards equality in variable\ndegrees.\n\nWithout further argument, it will, we think, be sufficiently clear that the\nsciences are none of them separately evolved--are none of them independent\neither logically or historically; but that all of them have, in a greater\nor less degree, required aid and reciprocated it. Indeed, it needs but to\nthrow aside theses, and contemplate the mixed character of surrounding\nphenomena, to at once see that these notions of division and succession in\nthe kinds of knowledge are none of them actually true, but are simple\nscientific fictions: good, if regarded merely as aids to study; bad, if\nregarded as representing realities in Nature. Consider them critically, and\nno facts whatever are presented to our senses uncombined with other\nfacts--no facts whatever but are in some degree disguised by accompanying\nfacts: disguised in such a manner that all must be partially understood\nbefore any one can be understood. If it be said, as by M. Comte, that\ngravitating force should be treated of before other forces, seeing that all\nthings are subject to it, it may on like grounds be said that heat should\nbe first dealt with; seeing that thermal forces are everywhere in action;\nthat the ability of any portion of matter to manifest visible gravitative\nphenomena depends on its state of aggregation, which is determined by heat;\nthat only by the aid of thermology can we explain those apparent exceptions\nto the gravitating tendency which are presented by steam and smoke, and so\nestablish its universality, and that, indeed, the very existence of the\nsolar system in a solid form is just as much a question of heat as it is\none of gravitation.\n\nTake other cases:--All phenomena recognised by the eyes, through which only\nare the data of exact science ascertainable, are complicated with optical\nphenomena; and cannot be exhaustively known until optical principles are\nknown. The burning of a candle cannot be explained without involving\nchemistry, mechanics, thermology. Every wind that blows is determined by\ninfluences partly solar, partly lunar, partly hygrometric; and implies\nconsiderations of fluid equilibrium and physical geography. The direction,\ndip, and variations of the magnetic needle, are facts half terrestrial,\nhalf celestial--are caused by earthly forces which have cycles of change\ncorresponding with astronomical periods. The flowing of the gulf-stream and\nthe annual migration of icebergs towards the equator, depending as they do\non the balancing of the centripetal and centrifugal forces acting on the\nocean, involve in their explanation the Earth's rotation and spheroidal\nform, the laws of hydrostatics, the relative densities of cold and warm\nwater, and the doctrines of evaporation. It is no doubt true, as M. Comte\nsays, that \"our position in the solar system, and the motions, form, size,\nequilibrium of the mass of our world among the planets, must be known\nbefore we can understand the phenomena going on at its surface.\" But,\nfatally for his hypothesis, it is also true that we must understand a great\npart of the phenomena going on at its surface before we can know its\nposition, &c., in the solar system. It is not simply that, as we have\nalready shown, those geometrical and mechanical principles by which\ncelestial appearances are explained, were first generalized from\nterrestrial experiences; but it is that the very obtainment of correct\ndata, on which to base astronomical generalizations, implies advanced\nterrestrial physics.\n\nUntil after optics had made considerable advance, the Copernican system\nremained but a speculation. A single modern observation on a star has to\nundergo a careful analysis by the combined aid of various sciences--has to\n_be digested by the organism of the sciences_; which have severally to\nassimilate their respective parts of the observation, before the essential\nfact it contains is available for the further development of astronomy. It\nhas to be corrected not only for nutation of the earth's axis and for\nprecession of the equinoxes, but for aberration and for refraction; and the\nformation of the tables by which refraction is calculated, presupposes\nknowledge of the law of decreasing density in the upper atmospheric strata;\nof the law of decreasing temperature, and the influence of this on the\ndensity; and of hygrometric laws as also affecting density. So that, to get\nmaterials for further advance, astronomy requires not only the indirect aid\nof the sciences which have presided over the making of its improved\ninstruments, but the direct aid of an advanced optics, of barology, of\nthermology, of hygrometry; and if we remember that these delicate\nobservations are in some cases registered electrically, and that they are\nfurther corrected for the \"personal equation\"--the time elapsing between\nseeing and registering, which varies with different observers--we may even\nadd electricity and psychology. If, then, so apparently simple a thing as\nascertaining the position of a star is complicated with so many phenomena,\nit is clear that this notion of the independence of the sciences, or\ncertain of them, will not hold.\n\nWhether objectively independent or not, they cannot be subjectively\nso--they cannot have independence as presented to our consciousness; and\nthis is the only kind of independence with which we are concerned. And\nhere, before leaving these illustrations, and especially this last one, let\nus not omit to notice how clearly they exhibit that increasingly active\n_consensus_ of the sciences which characterizes their advancing\ndevelopment. Besides finding that in these later times a discovery in one\nscience commonly causes progress in others; besides finding that a great\npart of the questions with which modern science deals are so mixed as to\nrequire the co-operation of many sciences for their solution; we find in\nthis last case that, to make a single good observation in the purest of the\nnatural sciences, requires the combined assistance of half a dozen other\nsciences.\n\nPerhaps the clearest comprehension of the interconnected growth of the\nsciences may be obtained by contemplating that of the arts, to which it is\nstrictly analogous, and with which it is inseparably bound up. Most\nintelligent persons must have been, at one time or other, struck with the\nvast array of antecedents pre-supposed by one of our processes of\nmanufacture. Let him trace the production of a printed cotton, and consider\nall that is implied by it. There are the many successive improvements\nthrough which the power-looms reached their present perfection; there is\nthe steam-engine that drives them, having its long history from Papin\ndownwards; there are the lathes in which its cylinder was bored, and the\nstring of ancestral lathes from which those lathes proceeded; there is the\nsteam-hammer under which its crank shaft was welded; there are the\npuddling-furnaces, the blast-furnaces, the coal-mines and the iron-mines\nneedful for producing the raw material; there are the slowly improved\nappliances by which the factory was built, and lighted, and ventilated;\nthere are the printing engine, and the die house, and the colour laboratory\nwith its stock of materials from all parts of the world, implying\ncochineal-culture, logwood-cutting, indigo-growing; there are the\nimplements used by the producers of cotton, the gins by which it is\ncleaned, the elaborate machines by which it is spun: there are the vessels\nin which cotton is imported, with the building-slips, the rope-yards, the\nsail-cloth factories, the anchor-forges, needful for making them; and\nbesides all these directly necessary antecedents, each of them involving\nmany others, there are the institutions which have developed the requisite\nintelligence, the printing and publishing arrangements which have spread\nthe necessary information, the social organization which has rendered\npossible such a complex co-operation of agencies.\n\nFurther analysis would show that the many arts thus concerned in the\neconomical production of a child's frock, have each of them been brought to\nits present efficiency by slow steps which the other arts have aided; and\nthat from the beginning this reciprocity has been ever on the increase. It\nneeds but on the one hand to consider how utterly impossible it is for the\nsavage, even with ore and coal ready, to produce so simple a thing as an\niron hatchet; and then to consider, on the other hand, that it would have\nbeen impracticable among ourselves, even a century ago, to raise the tubes\nof the Britannia bridge from lack of the hydraulic press; to at once see\nhow mutually dependent are the arts, and how all must advance that each may\nadvance. Well, the sciences are involved with each other in just the same\nmanner. They are, in fact, inextricably woven into this same complex web of\nthe arts; and are only conventionally independent of it. Originally the two\nwere one. How to fix the religious festivals; when to sow; how to weigh\ncommodities; and in what manner to measure ground; were the purely\npractical questions out of which arose astronomy, mechanics, geometry.\nSince then there has been a perpetual inosculation of the sciences and the\narts. Science has been supplying art with truer generalizations and more\ncompletely quantitative previsions. Art has been supplying science with\nbetter materials, and more perfect instruments. And all along the\ninterdependence has been growing closer, not only between art and science,\nbut among the arts themselves, and among the sciences themselves.\n\nHow completely the analogy holds throughout, becomes yet clearer when we\nrecognise the fact that _the sciences are arts to each other_. If, as\noccurs in almost every case, the fact to be analyzed by any science, has\nfirst to be prepared--to be disentangled from disturbing facts by the afore\ndiscovered methods of other sciences; the other sciences so used, stand in\nthe position of arts. If, in solving a dynamical problem, a parallelogram\nis drawn, of which the sides and diagonal represent forces, and by putting\nmagnitudes of extension for magnitudes of force a measurable relation is\nestablished between quantities not else to be dealt with; it may be fairly\nsaid that geometry plays towards mechanics much the same part that the fire\nof the founder plays towards the metal he is going to cast. If, in\nanalyzing the phenomena of the coloured rings surrounding the point of\ncontact between two lenses, a Newton ascertains by calculation the amount\nof certain interposed spaces, far too minute for actual measurement; he\nemploys the science of number for essentially the same purpose as that for\nwhich the watchmaker employs tools. If, before writing down his observation\non a star, the astronomer has to separate from it all the errors resulting\nfrom atmospheric and optical laws, it is manifest that the\nrefraction-tables, and logarithm-books, and formulae, which he successively\nuses, serve him much as retorts, and filters, and cupels serve the assayer\nwho wishes to separate the pure gold from all accompanying ingredients.\n\nSo close, indeed, is the relationship, that it is impossible to say where\nscience begins and art ends. All the instruments of the natural philosopher\nare the products of art; the adjusting one of them for use is an art; there\nis art in making an observation with one of them; it requires art properly\nto treat the facts ascertained; nay, even the employing established\ngeneralizations to open the way to new generalizations, may be considered\nas art. In each of these cases previously organized knowledge becomes the\nimplement by which new knowledge is got at: and whether that previously\norganized knowledge is embodied in a tangible apparatus or in a formula,\nmatters not in so far as its essential relation to the new knowledge is\nconcerned. If, as no one will deny, art is applied knowledge, then such\nportion of a scientific investigation as consists of applied knowledge is\nart. So that we may even say that as soon as any prevision in science\npasses out of its originally passive state, and is employed for reaching\nother previsions, it passes from theory into practice--becomes science in\naction--becomes art. And when we thus see how purely conventional is the\nordinary distinction, how impossible it is to make any real\nseparation--when we see not only that science and art were originally one;\nthat the arts have perpetually assisted each other; that there has been a\nconstant reciprocation of aid between the sciences and arts; but that the\nsciences act as arts to each other, and that the established part of each\nscience becomes an art to the growing part--when we recognize the closeness\nof these associations, we shall the more clearly perceive that as the\nconnexion of the arts with each other has been ever becoming more intimate;\nas the help given by sciences to arts and by arts to sciences, has been age\nby age increasing; so the interdependence of the sciences themselves has\nbeen ever growing greater, their mutual relations more involved, their\n_consensus_ more active.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn here ending our sketch of the Genesis of Science, we are conscious of\nhaving done the subject but scant justice. Two difficulties have stood in\nour way: one, the having to touch on so many points in such small space;\nthe other, the necessity of treating in serial arrangement a process which\nis not serial--a difficulty which must ever attend all attempts to\ndelineate processes of development, whatever their special nature. Add to\nwhich, that to present in anything like completeness and proportion, even\nthe outlines of so vast and complex a history, demands years of study.\nNevertheless, we believe that the evidence which has been assigned suffices\nto substantiate the leading propositions with which we set out. Inquiry\ninto the first stages of science confirms the conclusion which we drew from\nthe analysis of science as now existing, that it is not distinct from\ncommon knowledge, but an outgrowth from it--an extension of the perception\nby means of the reason.\n\nThat which we further found by analysis to form the more specific\ncharacteristic of scientific previsions, as contrasted with the previsions\nof uncultured intelligence--their quantitativeness--we also see to have\nbeen the characteristic alike in the initial steps in science, and of all\nthe steps succeeding them. The facts and admissions cited in disproof of\nthe assertion that the sciences follow one another, both logically and\nhistorically, in the order of their decreasing generality, have been\nenforced by the sundry instances we have met with, in which the more\ngeneral or abstract sciences have been advanced only at the instigation of\nthe more special or concrete--instances serving to show that a more general\nscience as much owes its progress to the presentation of new problems by a\nmore special science, as the more special science owes its progress to the\nsolutions which the more general science is thus led to attempt--instances\ntherefore illustrating the position that scientific advance is as much from\nthe special to the general as from the general to the special.\n\nQuite in harmony with this position we find to be the admissions that the\nsciences are as branches of one trunk, and that they were at first\ncultivated simultaneously; and this harmony becomes the more marked on\nfinding, as we have done, not only that the sciences have a common root,\nbut that science in general has a common root with language,\nclassification, reasoning, art; that throughout civilization these have\nadvanced together, acting and reacting upon each other just as the separate\nsciences have done; and that thus the development of intelligence in all\nits divisions and subdivisions has conformed to this same law which we have\nshown that the sciences conform to. From all which we may perceive that the\nsciences can with no greater propriety be arranged in a succession, than\nlanguage, classification, reasoning, art, and science, can be arranged in a\nsuccession; that, however needful a succession may be for the convenience\nof books and catalogues, it must be recognized merely as a convention; and\nthat so far from its being the function of a philosophy of the sciences to\nestablish a hierarchy, it is its function to show that the linear\narrangements required for literary purposes, have none of them any basis\neither in Nature or History.\n\nThere is one further remark we must not omit--a remark touching the\nimportance of the question that has been discussed. Unfortunately it\ncommonly happens that topics of this abstract nature are slighted as of no\npractical moment; and, we doubt not, that many will think it of very little\nconsequence what theory respecting the genesis of science may be\nentertained. But the value of truths is often great, in proportion as their\ngenerality is wide. Remote as they seem from practical application, the\nhighest generalizations are not unfrequently the most potent in their\neffects, in virtue of their influence on all those subordinate\ngeneralizations which regulate practice. And it must be so here. Whenever\nestablished, a correct theory of the historical development of the sciences\nmust have an immense effect upon education; and, through education, upon\ncivilization. Greatly as we differ from him in other respects, we agree\nwith M. Comte in the belief that, rightly conducted, the education of the\nindividual must have a certain correspondence with the evolution of the\nrace.\n\nNo one can contemplate the facts we have cited in illustration of the early\nstages of science, without recognising the _necessity_ of the processes\nthrough which those stages were reached--a necessity which, in respect to\nthe leading truths, may likewise be traced in all after stages. This\nnecessity, originating in the very nature of the phenomena to be analyzed\nand the faculties to be employed, more or less fully applies to the mind of\nthe child as to that of the savage. We say more or less fully, because the\ncorrespondence is not special but general only. Were the _environment_ the\nsame in both cases, the correspondence would be complete. But though the\nsurrounding material out of which science is to be organized, is, in many\ncases, the same to the juvenile mind and the aboriginal mind, it is not so\nthroughout; as, for instance, in the case of chemistry, the phenomena of\nwhich are accessible to the one, but were inaccessible to the other. Hence,\nin proportion as the environment differs, the course of evolution must\ndiffer. After admitting sundry exceptions, however, there remains a\nsubstantial parallelism; and, if so, it becomes of great moment to\nascertain what really has been the process of scientific evolution. The\nestablishment of an erroneous theory must be disastrous in its educational\nresults; while the establishment of a true one must eventually be fertile\nin school-reforms and consequent social benefits.\n\n\n\n\nIV. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER.\n\n\nWhy do we smile when a child puts on a man's hat? or what induces us to\nlaugh on reading that the corpulent Gibbon was unable to rise from his\nknees after making a tender declaration? The usual reply to such questions\nis, that laughter results from a perception of incongruity. Even were there\nnot on this reply the obvious criticism that laughter often occurs from\nextreme pleasure or from mere vivacity, there would still remain the real\nproblem--How comes a sense of the incongruous to be followed by these\npeculiar bodily actions? Some have alleged that laughter is due to the\npleasure of a relative self-elevation, which we feel on seeing the\nhumiliation of others. But this theory, whatever portion of truth it may\ncontain, is, in the first place, open to the fatal objection, that there\nare various humiliations to others which produce in us anything but\nlaughter; and, in the second place, it does not apply to the many instances\nin which no one's dignity is implicated: as when we laugh at a good pun.\nMoreover, like the other, it is merely a generalization of certain\nconditions to laughter; and not an explanation of the odd movements which\noccur under these conditions. Why, when greatly delighted, or impressed\nwith certain unexpected contrasts of ideas, should there be a contraction\nof particular facial muscles, and particular muscles of the chest and\nabdomen? Such answer to this question as may be possible, can be rendered\nonly by physiology.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEvery child has made the attempt to hold the foot still while it is\ntickled, and has failed; and probably there is scarcely any one who has not\nvainly tried to avoid winking, when a hand has been suddenly passed before\nthe eyes. These examples of muscular movements which occur independently of\nthe will, or in spite of it, illustrate what physiologists call\nreflex-action; as likewise do sneezing and coughing. To this class of\ncases, in which involuntary motions are accompanied by sensations, has to\nbe added another class of cases, in which involuntary motions are\nunaccompanied by sensations:--instance the pulsations of the heart; the\ncontractions of the stomach during digestion. Further, the great mass of\nseemingly-voluntary acts in such creatures as insects, worms, molluscs, are\nconsidered by physiologists to be as purely automatic as is the dilatation\nor closure of the iris under variations in quantity of light; and similarly\nexemplify the law, that an impression on the end of an afferent nerve is\nconveyed to some ganglionic centre, and is thence usually reflected along\nan efferent nerve to one or more muscles which it causes to contract.\n\nIn a modified form this principle holds with voluntary acts. Nervous\nexcitation always _tends_ to beget muscular motion; and when it rises to a\ncertain intensity, always does beget it. Not only in reflex actions,\nwhether with or without sensation, do we see that special nerves, when\nraised to a state of tension, discharge themselves on special muscles with\nwhich they are indirectly connected; but those external actions through\nwhich we read the feelings of others, show us that under any considerable\ntension, the nervous system in general discharges itself on the muscular\nsystem in general: either with or without the guidance of the will. The\nshivering produced by cold, implies irregular muscular contractions, which,\nthough at first only partly involuntary, become, when the cold is extreme,\nalmost wholly involuntary. When you have severely burnt your finger, it is\nvery difficult to preserve a dignified composure: contortion of face, or\nmovement of limb, is pretty sure to follow. If a man receives good news\nwith neither change of feature nor bodily motion, it is inferred that he is\nnot much pleased, or that he has extraordinary self-control--either\ninference implying that joy almost universally produces contraction of the\nmuscles; and so, alters the expression, or attitude, or both. And when we\nhear of the feats of strength which men have performed when their lives\nwere at stake--when we read how, in the energy of despair, even paralytic\npatients have regained for a time the use of their limbs; we see still more\nclearly the relations between nervous and muscular excitements. It becomes\nmanifest both that emotions and sensations tend to generate bodily\nmovements, and that the movements are vehement in proportion as the\nemotions or sensations are intense.[G]\n\n  [G] For numerous illustrations see essay on \"The Origin and Function\n      of Music.\"\n\nThis, however, is not the sole direction in which nervous excitement\nexpends itself. Viscera as well as muscles may receive the discharge. That\nthe heart and blood-vessels (which, indeed, being all contractile, may in a\nrestricted sense be classed with the muscular system) are quickly affected\nby pleasures and pains, we have daily proved to us. Every sensation of any\nacuteness accelerates the pulse; and how sensitive the heart is to\nemotions, is testified by the familiar expressions which use heart and\nfeeling as convertible terms. Similarly with the digestive organs. Without\ndetailing the various ways in which these may be influenced by our mental\nstates, it suffices to mention the marked benefits derived by dyspeptics,\nas well as other invalids, from cheerful society, welcome news, change of\nscene, to show how pleasurable feeling stimulates the viscera in general\ninto greater activity.\n\nThere is still another direction in which any excited portion of the\nnervous system may discharge itself; and a direction in which it usually\ndoes discharge itself when the excitement is not strong. It may pass on the\nstimulus to some other portion of the nervous system. This is what occurs\nin quiet thinking and feeling. The successive states which constitute\nconsciousness, result from this. Sensations excite ideas and emotions;\nthese in their turns arouse other ideas and emotions; and so, continuously.\nThat is to say, the tension existing in particular nerves, or groups of\nnerves, when they yield us certain sensations, ideas, or emotions,\ngenerates an equivalent tension in some other nerves, or groups of nerves,\nwith which there is a connexion: the flow of energy passing on, the one\nidea or feeling dies in producing the next.\n\nThus, then, while we are totally unable to comprehend how the excitement of\ncertain nerves should generate feeling--while, in the production of\nconsciousness by physical agents acting on physical structure, we come to\nan absolute mystery never to be solved; it is yet quite possible for us to\nknow by observation what are the successive forms which this absolute\nmystery may take. We see that there are three channels along which nerves\nin a state of tension may discharge themselves; or rather, I should say,\nthree classes of channels. They may pass on the excitement to other nerves\nthat have no direct connexions with the bodily members, and may so cause\nother feelings and ideas; or they may pass on the excitement to one or more\nmotor nerves, and so cause muscular contractions; or they may pass on the\nexcitement to nerves which supply the viscera, and may so stimulate one or\nmore of these.\n\nFor simplicity's sake, I have described these as alternative routes, one or\nother of which any current of nerve-force must take; thereby, as it may be\nthought, implying that such current will be exclusively confined to some\none of them. But this is by no means the case. Rarely, if ever, does it\nhappen that a state of nervous tension, present to consciousness as a\nfeeling, expends itself in one direction only. Very generally it may be\nobserved to expend itself in two; and it is probable that the discharge is\nnever absolutely absent from any one of the three. There is, however,\nvariety in the _proportions_ in which the discharge is divided among these\ndifferent channels under different circumstances. In a man whose fear\nimpels him to run, the mental tension generated is only in part transformed\ninto a muscular stimulus: there is a surplus which causes a rapid current\nof ideas. An agreeable state of feeling produced, say by praise, is not\nwholly used up in arousing the succeeding phase of the feeling, and the new\nideas appropriate to it; but a certain portion overflows into the visceral\nnervous system, increasing the action of the heart, and probably\nfacilitating digestion. And here we come upon a class of considerations and\nfacts which open the way to a solution of our special problem.\n\nFor starting with the unquestionable truth, that at any moment the existing\nquantity of liberated nerve-force, which in an inscrutable way produces in\nus the state we call feeling, _must_ expend itself in some\ndirection--_must_ generate an equivalent manifestation of force\nsomewhere--it clearly follows that, if of the several channels it may take,\none is wholly or partially closed, more must be taken by the others; or\nthat if two are closed, the discharge along the remaining one must be more\nintense; and that, conversely, should anything determine an unusual efflux\nin one direction, there will be a diminished efflux in other directions.\n\nDaily experience illustrates these conclusions. It is commonly remarked,\nthat the suppression of external signs of feeling, makes feeling more\nintense. The deepest grief is silent grief. Why? Because the nervous\nexcitement not discharged in muscular action, discharges itself in other\nnervous excitements--arouses more numerous and more remote associations of\nmelancholy ideas, and so increases the mass of feelings. People who conceal\ntheir anger are habitually found to be more revengeful than those who\nexplode in loud speech and vehement action. Why? Because, as before, the\nemotion is reflected back, accumulates, and intensifies. Similarly, men\nwho, as proved by their powers of representation, have the keenest\nappreciation of the comic, are usually able to do and say the most\nludicrous things with perfect gravity.\n\nOn the other hand, all are familiar with the truth that bodily activity\ndeadens emotion. Under great irritation we get relief by walking about\nrapidly. Extreme effort in the bootless attempt to achieve a desired end,\ngreatly diminishes the intensity of the desire. Those who are forced to\nexert themselves after misfortunes, do not suffer nearly so much as those\nwho remain quiescent. If any one wishes to check intellectual excitement,\nhe cannot choose a more efficient method than running till he is exhausted.\nMoreover, these cases, in which the production of feeling and thought is\nhindered by determining the nervous energy towards bodily movements, have\ntheir counterparts in the cases in which bodily movements are hindered by\nextra absorption of nervous energy in sudden thoughts and feelings. If,\nwhen walking along, there flashes on you an idea that creates great\nsurprise, hope, or alarm, you stop; or if sitting cross-legged, swinging\nyour pendent foot, the movement is at once arrested. From the viscera, too,\nintense mental action abstracts energy. Joy, disappointment, anxiety, or\nany moral perturbation rising to a great height, will destroy appetite; or\nif food has been taken, will arrest digestion; and even a purely\nintellectual activity, when extreme, will do the like.\n\nFacts, then, fully bear out these _a priori_ inferences, that the nervous\nexcitement at any moment present to consciousness as feeling, must expend\nitself in some way or other; that of the three classes of channels open to\nit, it must take one, two, or more, according to circumstances; that the\nclosure or obstruction of one, must increase the discharge through the\nothers; and conversely, that if to answer some demand, the efflux of\nnervous energy in one direction is unusually great, there must be a\ncorresponding decrease of the efflux in other directions. Setting out from\nthese premises, let us now see what interpretation is to be put on the\nphenomena of laughter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat laughter is a display of muscular excitement, and so illustrates the\ngeneral law that feeling passing a certain pitch habitually vents itself in\nbodily action, scarcely needs pointing out. It perhaps needs pointing out,\nhowever, that strong feeling of almost any kind produces this result. It is\nnot a sense of the ludicrous, only, which does it; nor are the various\nforms of joyous emotion the sole additional causes. We have, besides, the\nsardonic laughter and the hysterical laughter, which result from mental\ndistress; to which must be added certain sensations, as tickling, and,\naccording to Mr. Bain, cold, and some kinds of acute pain.\n\nStrong feeling, mental or physical, being, then, the general cause of\nlaughter, we have to note that the muscular actions constituting it are\ndistinguished from most others by this, that they are purposeless. In\ngeneral, bodily motions that are prompted by feelings are directed to\nspecial ends; as when we try to escape a danger, or struggle to secure a\ngratification. But the movements of chest and limbs which we make when\nlaughing have no object. And now remark that these quasi-convulsive\ncontractions of the muscles, having no object, but being results of an\nuncontrolled discharge of energy, we may see whence arise their special\ncharacters--how it happens that certain classes of muscles are affected\nfirst, and then certain other classes. For an overflow of nerve-force,\nundirected by any motive, will manifestly take first the most habitual\nroutes; and if these do not suffice, will next overflow into the less\nhabitual ones. Well, it is through the organs of speech that feeling passes\ninto movement with the greatest frequency. The jaws, tongue, and lips are\nused not only to express strong irritation or gratification; but that very\nmoderate flow of mental energy which accompanies ordinary conversation,\nfinds its chief vent through this channel. Hence it happens that certain\nmuscles round the mouth, small and easy to move, are the first to contract\nunder pleasurable emotion. The class of muscles which, next after those of\narticulation, are most constantly set in action (or extra action, we should\nsay) by feelings of all kinds, are those of respiration. Under pleasurable\nor painful sensations we breathe more rapidly: possibly as a consequence of\nthe increased demand for oxygenated blood. The sensations that accompany\nexertion also bring on hard-breathing; which here more evidently responds\nto the physiological needs. And emotions, too, agreeable and disagreeable,\nboth, at first, excite respiration; though the last subsequently depress\nit. That is to say, of the bodily muscles, the respiratory are more\nconstantly implicated than any others in those various acts which our\nfeelings impel us to; and, hence, when there occurs an undirected discharge\nof nervous energy into the muscular system, it happens that, if the\nquantity be considerable, it convulses not only certain of the articulatory\nand vocal muscles, but also those which expel air from the lungs.\n\nShould the feeling to be expended be still greater in amount--too great to\nfind vent in these classes of muscles--another class comes into play. The\nupper limbs are set in motion. Children frequently clap their hands in\nglee; by some adults the hands are rubbed together; and others, under still\ngreater intensity of delight, slap their knees and sway their bodies\nbackwards and forwards. Last of all, when the other channels for the escape\nof the surplus nerve-force have been filled to overflowing, a yet further\nand less-used group of muscles is spasmodically affected: the head is\nthrown back and the spine bent inwards--there is a slight degree of what\nmedical men call opisthotonos. Thus, then, without contending that the\nphenomena of laughter in all their details are to be so accounted for, we\nsee that in their _ensemble_ they conform to these general\nprinciples:--that feeling excites to muscular action; that when the\nmuscular action is unguided by a purpose, the muscles first affected are\nthose which feeling most habitually stimulates; and that as the feeling to\nbe expended increases in quantity, it excites an increasing number of\nmuscles, in a succession determined by the relative frequency with which\nthey respond to the regulated dictates of feeling.\n\nThere still, however, remains the question with which we set out. The\nexplanation here given applies only to the laughter produced by acute\npleasure or pain: it does not apply to the laughter that follows certain\nperceptions of incongruity. It is an insufficient explanation that in these\ncases, laughter is a result of the pleasure we take in escaping from the\nrestraint of grave feelings. That this is a part-cause is true. Doubtless\nvery often, as Mr. Bain says, \"it is the coerced form of seriousness and\nsolemnity without the reality that gives us that stiff position from which\na contact with triviality or vulgarity relieves us, to our uproarious\ndelight.\" And in so far as mirth is caused by the gush of agreeable feeling\nthat follows the cessation of mental strain, it further illustrates the\ngeneral principle above set forth. But no explanation is thus afforded of\nthe mirth which ensues when the short silence between the _andante_ and\n_allegro_ in one of Beethoven's symphonies, is broken by a loud sneeze. In\nthis, and hosts of like cases, the mental tension is not coerced but\nspontaneous--not disagreeable but agreeable; and the coming impressions to\nwhich the attention is directed, promise a gratification that few, if any,\ndesire to escape. Hence, when the unlucky sneeze occurs, it cannot be that\nthe laughter of the audience is due simply to the release from an irksome\nattitude of mind: some other cause must be sought.\n\nThis cause we shall arrive at by carrying our analysis a step further. We\nhave but to consider the quantity of feeling that exists under such\ncircumstances, and then to ask what are the conditions that determine the\ndirection of its discharge, to at once reach a solution. Take a case. You\nare sitting in a theatre, absorbed in the progress of an interesting drama.\nSome climax has been reached which has aroused your sympathies--say, a\nreconciliation between the hero and heroine, after long and painful\nmisunderstanding. The feelings excited by this scene are not of a kind from\nwhich you seek relief; but are, on the contrary, a grateful relief from the\npainful feelings with which you have witnessed the previous estrangement.\nMoreover, the sentiments these fictitious personages have for the moment\ninspired you with, are not such as would lead you to rejoice in any\nindignity offered to them; but rather, such as would make you resent the\nindignity. And now, while you are contemplating the reconciliation with a\npleasurable sympathy, there appears from behind the scenes a tame kid,\nwhich, having stared round at the audience, walks up to the lovers and\nsniffs at them. You cannot help joining in the roar which greets this\n_contretemps_. Inexplicable as is this irresistible burst on the hypothesis\nof a pleasure in escaping from mental restraint; or on the hypothesis of a\npleasure from relative increase of self-importance, when witnessing the\nhumiliation of others; it is readily explicable if we consider what, in\nsuch a case, must become of the feeling that existed at the moment the\nincongruity arose. A large mass of emotion had been produced; or, to speak\nin physiological language, a large portion of the nervous system was in a\nstate of tension. There was also great expectation with respect to the\nfurther evolution of the scene--a quantity of vague, nascent thought and\nemotion, into which the existing quantity of thought and emotion was about\nto pass.\n\nHad there been no interruption, the body of new ideas and feelings next\nexcited, would have sufficed to absorb the whole of the liberated nervous\nenergy. But now, this large amount of nervous energy, instead of being\nallowed to expend itself in producing an equivalent amount of the new\nthoughts and emotions which were nascent, is suddenly checked in its flow.\nThe channels along which the discharge was about to take place, are closed.\nThe new channel opened--that afforded by the appearance and proceedings of\nthe kid--is a small one; the ideas and feelings suggested are not numerous\nand massive enough to carry off the nervous energy to be expended. The\nexcess must therefore discharge itself in some other direction; and in the\nway already explained, there results an efflux through the motor nerves to\nvarious classes of the muscles, producing the half-convulsive actions we\nterm laughter.\n\nThis explanation is in harmony with the fact, that when, among several\npersons who witness the same ludicrous occurrence, there are some who do\nnot laugh; it is because there has arisen in them an emotion not\nparticipated in by the rest, and which is sufficiently massive to absorb\nall the nascent excitement. Among the spectators of an awkward tumble,\nthose who preserve their gravity are those in whom there is excited a\ndegree of sympathy with the sufferer, sufficiently great to serve as an\noutlet for the feeling which the occurrence had turned out of its previous\ncourse. Sometimes anger carries off the arrested current; and so prevents\nlaughter. An instance of this was lately furnished me by a friend who had\nbeen witnessing the feats at Franconi's. A tremendous leap had just been\nmade by an acrobat over a number of horses. The clown, seemingly envious of\nthis success, made ostentatious preparation for doing the like; and then,\ntaking the preliminary run with immense energy, stopped short on reaching\nthe first horse, and pretended to wipe some dust from its haunches. In the\nmajority of the spectators, merriment was excited; but in my friend, wound\nup by the expectation of the coming leap to a state of great nervous\ntension, the effect of the baulk was to produce indignation. Experience\nthus proves what the theory implies: namely, that the discharge of arrested\nfeelings into the muscular system, takes place only in the absence of other\nadequate channels--does not take place if there arise other feelings equal\nin amount to those arrested.\n\nEvidence still more conclusive is at hand. If we contrast the incongruities\nwhich produce laughter with those which do not, we at once see that in the\nnon-ludicrous ones the unexpected state of feeling aroused, though wholly\ndifferent in kind, is not less in quantity or intensity. Among\nincongruities that may excite anything but a laugh, Mr. Bain instances--\"A\ndecrepit man under a heavy burden, five loaves and two fishes among a\nmultitude, and all unfitness and gross disproportion; an instrument out of\ntune, a fly in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes studying geometry in a\nsiege, and all discordant things; a wolf in sheep's clothing, a breach of\nbargain, and falsehood in general; the multitude taking the law in their\nown hands, and everything of the nature of disorder; a corpse at a feast,\nparental cruelty, filial ingratitude, and whatever is unnatural; the entire\ncatalogue of the vanities given by Solomon, are all incongruous, but they\ncause feelings of pain, anger, sadness, loathing, rather than mirth.\" Now\nin these cases, where the totally unlike state of consciousness suddenly\nproduced, is not inferior in mass to the preceding one, the conditions to\nlaughter are not fulfilled. As above shown, laughter naturally results only\nwhen consciousness is unawares transferred from great things to small--only\nwhen there is what we call a _descending_ incongruity.\n\nAnd now observe, finally, the fact, alike inferable _a priori_ and\nillustrated in experience, that an _ascending_ incongruity not only fails\nto cause laughter, but works on the muscular system an effect of exactly\nthe reverse kind. When after something very insignificant there arises\nwithout anticipation something very great, the emotion we call wonder\nresults; and this emotion is accompanied not by an excitement of the\nmuscles, but by a relaxation of them. In children and country people, that\nfalling of the jaw which occurs on witnessing something that is imposing\nand unexpected, exemplifies this effect. Persons who have been\nwonder-struck at the production of very striking results by a seemingly\ninadequate cause, are frequently described as unconsciously dropping the\nthings they held in their hands. Such are just the effects to be\nanticipated. After an average state of consciousness, absorbing but a small\nquantity of nervous energy, is aroused without the slightest notice, a\nstrong emotion of awe, terror, or admiration; joined with the astonishment\ndue to an apparent want of adequate causation. This new state of\nconsciousness demands far more nervous energy than that which it has\nsuddenly replaced; and this increased absorption of nervous energy in\nmental changes, involves a temporary diminution of the outflow in other\ndirections: whence the pendent jaw and the relaxing grasp.\n\nOne further observation is worth making. Among the several sets of channels\ninto which surplus feeling might be discharged, was named the nervous\nsystem of the viscera. The sudden overflow of an arrested mental\nexcitement, which, as we have seen, results from a descending incongruity,\nmust doubtless stimulate not only the muscular system, as we see it does,\nbut also the internal organs; the heart and stomach must come in for a\nshare of the discharge. And thus there seems to be a good physiological\nbasis for the popular notion that mirth-creating excitement facilitates\ndigestion.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThough in doing so I go beyond the boundaries of the immediate topic, I may\nfitly point out that the method of inquiry here followed, is one which\nenables us to understand various phenomena besides those of laughter. To\nshow the importance of pursuing it, I will indicate the explanation it\nfurnishes of another familiar class of facts.\n\nAll know how generally a large amount of emotion disturbs the action of the\nintellect, and interferes with the power of expression. A speech delivered\nwith great facility to tables and chairs, is by no means so easily\ndelivered to an audience. Every schoolboy can testify that his trepidation,\nwhen standing before a master, has often disabled him from repeating a\nlesson which he had duly learnt. In explanation of this we commonly say\nthat the attention is distracted--that the proper train of ideas is broken\nby the intrusion of ideas that are irrelevant. But the question is, in what\nmanner does unusual emotion produce this effect; and we are here supplied\nwith a tolerably obvious answer. The repetition of a lesson, or set speech\npreviously thought out, implies the flow of a very moderate amount of\nnervous excitement through a comparatively narrow channel. The thing to be\ndone is simply to call up in succession certain previously-arranged\nideas--a process in which no great amount of mental energy is expended.\nHence, when there is a large quantity of emotion, which must be discharged\nin some direction or other; and when, as usually happens, the restricted\nseries of intellectual actions to be gone through, does not suffice to\ncarry it off; there result discharges along other channels besides the one\nprescribed: there are aroused various ideas foreign to the train of thought\nto be pursued; and these tend to exclude from consciousness those which\nshould occupy it.\n\nAnd now observe the meaning of those bodily actions spontaneously set up\nunder these circumstances. The school-boy saying his lesson, commonly has\nhis fingers actively engaged--perhaps in twisting about a broken pen, or\nperhaps squeezing the angle of his jacket; and if told to keep his hands\nstill, he soon again falls into the same or a similar trick. Many anecdotes\nare current of public speakers having incurable automatic actions of this\nclass: barristers who perpetually wound and unwound pieces of tape; members\nof parliament ever putting on and taking off their spectacles. So long as\nsuch movements are unconscious, they facilitate the mental actions. At\nleast this seems a fair inference from the fact that confusion frequently\nresults from putting a stop to them: witness the case narrated by Sir\nWalter Scott of his school-fellow, who became unable to say his lesson\nafter the removal of the waistcoat-button that he habitually fingered while\nin class. But why do they facilitate the mental actions? Clearly because\nthey draw off a portion of the surplus nervous excitement. If, as above\nexplained, the quantity of mental energy generated is greater than can find\nvent along the narrow channel of thought that is open to it; and if, in\nconsequence, it is apt to produce confusion by rushing into other channels\nof thought; then by allowing it an exit through the motor nerves into the\nmuscular system, the pressure is diminished, and irrelevant ideas are less\nlikely to intrude on consciousness.\n\nThis further illustration will, I think, justify the position that\nsomething may be achieved by pursuing in other cases this method of\npsychological inquiry. A complete explanation of the phenomena, requires us\nto trace out _all_ the consequences of any given state of consciousness;\nand we cannot do this without studying the effects, bodily and mental, as\nvarying in quantity at each other's expense. We should probably learn much\nif we in every case asked--Where is all the nervous energy gone?\n\n\n\n\nV. THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC\n\n\nWhen Carlo, standing, chained to his kennel, sees his master in the\ndistance, a slight motion of the tail indicates his but faint hope that he\nis about to be let out. A much more decided wagging of the tail, passing\nby-and-by into lateral undulations of the body, follows his master's nearer\napproach. When hands are laid on his collar, and he knows that he is really\nto have an outing, his jumping and wriggling are such that it is by no\nmeans easy to loose his fastenings. And when he finds himself actually\nfree, his joy expends itself in bounds, in pirouettes, and in scourings\nhither and thither at the top of his speed. Puss, too, by erecting her\ntail, and by every time raising her back to meet the caressing hand of her\nmistress, similarly expresses her gratification by certain muscular\nactions; as likewise do the parrot by awkward dancing on his perch, and the\ncanary by hopping and fluttering about his cage with unwonted rapidity.\nUnder emotions of an opposite kind, animals equally display muscular\nexcitement. The enraged lion lashes his sides with his tail, knits his\nbrows, protrudes his claws. The cat sets up her back; the dog retracts his\nupper lip; the horse throws back his ears. And in the struggles of\ncreatures in pain, we see that the like relation holds between excitement\nof the muscles and excitement of the nerves of sensation.\n\nIn ourselves, distinguished from lower creatures as we are by feelings\nalike more powerful and more varied, parallel facts are at once more\nconspicuous and more numerous. We may conveniently look at them in groups.\nWe shall find that pleasurable sensations and painful sensations,\npleasurable emotions and painful emotions, all tend to produce active\ndemonstrations in proportion to their intensity.\n\nIn children, and even in adults who are not restrained by regard for\nappearances, a highly agreeable taste is followed by a smacking of the\nlips. An infant will laugh and bound in its nurse's arms at the sight of a\nbrilliant colour or the hearing of a new sound. People are apt to beat time\nwith head or feet to music which particularly pleases them. In a sensitive\nperson an agreeable perfume will produce a smile; and smiles will be seen\non the faces of a crowd gazing at some splendid burst of fireworks. Even\nthe pleasant sensation of warmth felt on getting to the fireside out of a\nwinter's storm, will similarly express itself in the face.\n\nPainful sensations, being mostly far more intense than pleasurable ones,\ncause muscular actions of a much more decided kind. A sudden twinge\nproduces a convulsive start of the whole body. A pain less violent, but\ncontinuous, is accompanied by a knitting of the brows, a setting of the\nteeth or biting of the lip, and a contraction of the features generally.\nUnder a persistent pain of a severer kind, other muscular actions are\nadded: the body is swayed to and fro; the hands clench anything they can\nlay hold of; and should the agony rise still higher, the sufferer rolls\nabout on the floor almost convulsed.\n\nThough more varied, the natural language of the pleasurable emotions comes\nwithin the same generalization. A smile, which is the commonest expression\nof gratified feeling, is a contraction of certain facial muscles; and when\nthe smile broadens into a laugh, we see a more violent and more general\nmuscular excitement produced by an intenser gratification. Rubbing together\nof the hands, and that other motion which Dickens somewhere describes as\n\"washing with impalpable soap in invisible water,\" have like implications.\nChildren may often be seen to \"jump for joy.\" Even in adults of excitable\ntemperament, an action approaching to it is sometimes witnessed. And\ndancing has all the world through been regarded as natural to an elevated\nstate of mind. Many of the special emotions show themselves in special\nmuscular actions. The gratification resulting from success, raises the head\nand gives firmness to the gait. A hearty grasp of the hand is currently\ntaken as indicative of friendship. Under a gush of affection the mother\nclasps her child to her breast, feeling as though she could squeeze it to\ndeath. And so in sundry other cases. Even in that brightening of the eye\nwith which good news is received we may trace the same truth; for this\nappearance of greater brilliancy is due to an extra contraction of the\nmuscle which raises the eyelid, and so allows more light to fall upon, and\nbe reflected from, the wet surface of the eyeball.\n\nThe bodily indications of painful emotions are equally numerous, and still\nmore vehement. Discontent is shown by raised eyebrows and wrinkled\nforehead; disgust by a curl of the lip; offence by a pout. The impatient\nman beats a tattoo with his fingers on the table, swings his pendent leg\nwith increasing rapidity, gives needless pokings to the fire, and presently\npaces with hasty strides about the room. In great grief there is wringing\nof the hands, and even tearing of the hair. An angry child stamps, or rolls\non its back and kicks its heels in the air; and in manhood, anger, first\nshowing itself in frowns, in distended nostrils, in compressed lips, goes\non to produce grinding of the teeth, clenching of the fingers, blows of the\nfist on the table, and perhaps ends in a violent attack on the offending\nperson, or in throwing about and breaking the furniture. From that pursing\nof the mouth indicative of slight displeasure, up to the frantic struggles\nof the maniac, we shall find that mental irritation tends to vent itself in\nbodily activity.\n\nAll feelings, then--sensations or emotions, pleasurable or painful--have\nthis common characteristic, that they are muscular stimuli. Not forgetting\nthe few apparently exceptional cases in which emotions exceeding a certain\nintensity produce prostration, we may set it down as a general law that,\nalike in man and animals, there is a direct connection between feeling and\nmotion; the last growing more vehement as the first grows more intense.\nWere it allowable here to treat the matter scientifically, we might trace\nthis general law down to the principle known among physiologists as that of\n_reflex action_.[H] Without doing this, however, the above numerous\ninstances justify the generalization, that mental excitement of all kinds\nends in excitement of the muscles; and that the two preserve a more or less\nconstant ratio to each other.\n\n  [H] Those who seek information on this point may find it in an\n      interesting tract by Mr. Alexander Bain, on _Animal Instinct and\n      Intelligence_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"But what has all this to do with _The Origin and Function of Music_?\" asks\nthe reader. Very much, as we shall presently see. All music is originally\nvocal. All vocal sounds are produced by the agency of certain muscles.\nThese muscles, in common with those of the body at large, are excited to\ncontraction by pleasurable and painful feelings. And therefore it is that\nfeelings demonstrate themselves in sounds as well as in movements.\nTherefore it is that Carlo barks as well as leaps when he is let out--that\npuss purrs as well as erects her tail--that the canary chirps as well as\nflutters. Therefore it is that the angry lion roars while he lashes his\nsides, and the dog growls while he retracts his lip. Therefore it is that\nthe maimed animal not only struggles, but howls. And it is from this cause\nthat in human beings bodily suffering expresses itself not only in\ncontortions, but in shrieks and groans--that in anger, and fear, and grief,\nthe gesticulations are accompanied by shouts and screams--that delightful\nsensations are followed by exclamations--and that we hear screams of joy\nand shouts of exultation.\n\nWe have here, then, a principle underlying all vocal phenomena; including\nthose of vocal music, and by consequence those of music in general. The\nmuscles that move the chest, larynx, and vocal chords, contracting like\nother muscles in proportion to the intensity of the feelings; every\ndifferent contraction of these muscles involving, as it does, a different\nadjustment of the vocal organs; every different adjustment of the vocal\norgans causing a change in the sound emitted;--it follows that variations\nof voice are the physiological results of variations of feeling; it follows\nthat each inflection or modulation is the natural outcome of some passing\nemotion or sensation; and it follows that the explanation of all kinds of\nvocal expression, must be sought in this general relation between mental\nand muscular excitements. Let us, then, see whether we cannot thus account\nfor the chief peculiarities in the utterance of the feelings: grouping\nthese peculiarities under the heads of _loudness_, _quality_, _or timbre_,\n_pitch_, _intervals_, and _rate of variation_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBetween the lungs and the organs of voice, there is much the same relation\nas between the bellows of an organ and its pipes. And as the loudness of\nthe sound given out by an organ-pipe increases with the strength of the\nblast from the bellows; so, other things equal, the loudness of a vocal\nsound increases with the strength of the blast from the lungs. But the\nexpulsion of air from the lungs is effected by certain muscles of the chest\nand abdomen. The force with which these muscles contract, is proportionate\nto the intensity of the feeling experienced. Hence, _a priori_, loud sounds\nwill be the habitual results of strong feelings. That they are so we have\ndaily proof. The pain which, if moderate, can be borne silently, causes\noutcries if it becomes extreme. While a slight vexation makes a child\nwhimper, a fit of passion calls forth a howl that disturbs the\nneighbourhood. When the voices in an adjacent room become unusually\naudible, we infer anger, or surprise, or joy. Loudness of applause is\nsignificant of great approbation; and with uproarious mirth we associate\nthe idea of high enjoyment. Commencing with the silence of apathy, we find\nthat the utterances grow louder as the sensations or emotions, whether\npleasurable or painful, grow stronger.\n\nThat different _qualities_ of voice accompany different mental states, and\nthat under states of excitement the tones are more sonorous than usual, is\nanother general fact admitting of a parallel explanation. The sounds of\ncommon conversation have but little resonance; those of strong feeling have\nmuch more. Under rising ill temper the voice acquires a metallic ring. In\naccordance with her constant mood, the ordinary speech of a virago has a\npiercing quality quite opposite to that softness indicative of placidity. A\nringing laugh marks an especially joyous temperament. Grief unburdening\nitself uses tones approaching in _timbre_ to those of chanting: and in his\nmost pathetic passages an eloquent speaker similarly falls into tones more\nvibratory than those common to him. Now any one may readily convince\nhimself that resonant vocal sounds can be produced only by a certain\nmuscular effort additional to that ordinarily needed. If after uttering a\nword in his speaking voice, the reader, without changing the pitch or the\nloudness, will _sing_ this word, he will perceive that before he can sing\nit, he has to alter the adjustment of the vocal organs; to do which a\ncertain force must be used; and by putting his fingers on that external\nprominence marking the top of the larynx, he will have further evidence\nthat to produce a sonorous tone the organs must be drawn out of their usual\nposition. Thus, then, the fact that the tones of excited feeling are more\nvibratory than those of common conversation, is another instance of the\nconnexion between mental excitement and muscular excitement. The speaking\nvoice, the recitative voice, and the singing voice, severally exemplify one\ngeneral principle.\n\nThat the _pitch_ of the voice varies according to the action of the vocal\nmuscles, scarcely needs saying. All know that the middle notes, in which\nthey converse, are made without any appreciable effort; and all know that\nto make either very high or very low notes requires a considerable effort.\nIn either ascending or descending from the pitch of ordinary speech, we are\nconscious of an increasing muscular strain, which, at both extremes of the\nregister, becomes positively painful. Hence it follows from our general\nprinciple, that while indifference or calmness will use the medium tones,\nthe tones used during excitement will be either above or below them; and\nwill rise higher and higher, or fall lower and lower, as the feelings grow\nstronger. This physiological deduction we also find to be in harmony with\nfamiliar facts. The habitual sufferer utters his complaints in a voice\nraised considerably above the natural key; and agonizing pain vents itself\nin either shrieks or groans--in very high or very low notes. Beginning at\nhis talking pitch, the cry of the disappointed urchin grows more shrill as\nit grows louder. The \"Oh!\" of astonishment or delight, begins several notes\nbelow the middle voice, and descends still lower. Anger expresses itself in\nhigh tones, or else in \"curses not loud but _deep_.\" Deep tones, too, are\nalways used in uttering strong reproaches. Such an exclamation as \"Beware!\"\nif made dramatically--that is, if made with a show of feeling--must be many\nnotes lower than ordinary. Further, we have groans of disapprobation,\ngroans of horror, groans of remorse. And extreme joy and fear are alike\naccompanied by shrill outcries.\n\nNearly allied to the subject of pitch, is that of _intervals_; and the\nexplanation of them carries our argument a step further. While calm speech\nis comparatively monotonous, emotion makes use of fifths, octaves, and even\nwider intervals. Listen to any one narrating or repeating something in\nwhich he has no interest, and his voice will not wander more than two or\nthree notes above or below his medium note, and that by small steps; but\nwhen he comes to some exciting event he will be heard not only to use the\nhigher and lower notes of his register, but to go from one to the other by\nlarger leaps. Being unable in print to imitate these traits of feeling, we\nfeel some difficulty in fully realizing them to the reader. But we may\nsuggest a few remembrances which will perhaps call to mind a sufficiency of\nothers. If two men living in the same place, and frequently seeing one\nanother, meet, say at a public assembly, any phrase with which one may be\nheard to accost the other--as \"Hallo, are you here?\"--will have an ordinary\nintonation. But if one of them, after long absence, has unexpectedly\nreturned, the expression of surprise with which his friend may greet\nhim--\"Hallo! how came you here?\"--will be uttered in much more strongly\ncontrasted tones. The two syllables of the word \"Hallo\" will be, the one\nmuch higher and the other much lower than before; and the rest of the\nsentence will similarly ascend and descend by longer steps.\n\nAgain, if, supposing her to be in an adjoining room, the mistress of the\nhouse calls \"Mary,\" the two syllables of the name will be spoken in an\nascending interval of a third. If Mary does not reply, the call will be\nrepeated probably in a descending fifth; implying the slightest shade of\nannoyance at Mary's inattention. Should Mary still make no answer, the\nincreasing annoyance will show itself by the use of a descending octave on\nthe next repetition of the call. And supposing the silence to continue, the\nlady, if not of a very even temper, will show her irritation at Mary's\nseemingly intentional negligence by finally calling her in tones still more\nwidely contrasted--the first syllable being higher and the last lower than\nbefore.\n\nNow, these and analogous facts, which the reader will readily accumulate,\nclearly conform to the law laid down. For to make large intervals requires\nmore muscular action than to make small ones. But not only is the _extent_\nof vocal intervals thus explicable as due to the relation between nervous\nand muscular excitement, but also in some degree their _direction_, as\nascending or descending. The middle notes being those which demand no\nappreciable effort of muscular adjustment; and the effort becoming greater\nas we either ascend or descend; it follows that a departure from the middle\nnotes in either direction will mark increasing emotion; while a return\ntowards the middle notes will mark decreasing emotion. Hence it happens\nthat an enthusiastic person uttering such a sentence as--\"It was the most\nsplendid sight I ever saw!\" will ascend to the first syllable of the word\n\"splendid,\" and thence will descend: the word \"splendid\" marking the climax\nof the feeling produced by the recollection. Hence, again, it happens that,\nunder some extreme vexation produced by another's stupidity, an irascible\nman, exclaiming--\"What a confounded fool the fellow is!\" will begin\nsomewhat below his middle voice, and descending to the word \"fool,\" which\nhe will utter in one of his deepest notes, will then ascend again. And it\nmay be remarked, that the word \"fool\" will not only be deeper and louder\nthan the rest, but will also have more emphasis of articulation--another\nmode in which muscular excitement is shown.\n\nThere is some danger, however, in giving instances like this; seeing that\nas the mode of rendering will vary according to the intensity of the\nfeeling which the reader feigns to himself, the right cadence may not be\nhit upon. With single words there is less difficulty. Thus the \"Indeed!\"\nwith which a surprising fact is received, mostly begins on the middle note\nof the voice, and rises with the second syllable; or, if disapprobation as\nwell as astonishment is felt, the first syllable will be below the middle\nnote, and the second lower still. Conversely, the word \"Alas!\" which marks\nnot the rise of a paroxysm of grief, but its decline, is uttered in a\ncadence descending towards the middle note; or, if the first syllable is in\nthe lower part of the register, the second ascends towards the middle note.\nIn the \"Heigh-ho!\" expressive of mental and muscular prostration, we may\nsee the same truth; and if the cadence appropriate to it be inverted the\nabsurdity of the effect clearly shows how the meaning of intervals is\ndependent on the principle we have been illustrating.\n\nThe remaining characteristic of emotional speech which we have to notice is\nthat of _variability of pitch_. It is scarcely possible here to convey\nadequate ideas of this more complex manifestation. We must be content with\nsimply indicating some occasions on which it may be observed. On a meeting\nof friends, for instance--as when there arrives a party of much-wished-for\nvisitors--the voices of all will be heard to undergo changes of pitch not\nonly greater but much more numerous than usual. If a speaker at a public\nmeeting is interrupted by some squabble among those he is addressing, his\ncomparatively level tones will be in marked contrast with the rapidly\nchanging one of the disputants. And among children, whose feelings are less\nunder control than those of adults, this peculiarity is still more decided.\nDuring a scene of complaint and recrimination between two excitable little\ngirls, the voices may be heard to run up and down the gamut several times\nin each sentence. In such cases we once more recognise the same law: for\nmuscular excitement is shown not only in strength of contraction but also\nin the rapidity with which different muscular adjustments succeed each\nother.\n\nThus we find all the leading vocal phenomena to have a physiological basis.\nThey are so many manifestations of the general law that feeling is a\nstimulus to muscular action--a law conformed to throughout the whole\neconomy, not of man only, but of every sensitive creature--a law,\ntherefore, which lies deep in the nature of animal organization. The\nexpressiveness of these various modifications of voice is therefore innate.\nEach of us, from babyhood upwards, has been spontaneously making them, when\nunder the various sensations and emotions by which they are produced.\nHaving been conscious of each feeling at the same time that we heard\nourselves make the consequent sound, we have acquired an established\nassociation of ideas between such sound and the feeling which caused it.\nWhen the like sound is made by another, we ascribe the like feeling to him;\nand by a further consequence we not only ascribe to him that feeling, but\nhave a certain degree of it aroused in ourselves: for to become conscious\nof the feeling which another is experiencing, is to have that feeling\nawakened in our own consciousness, which is the same thing as experiencing\nthe feeling. Thus these various modifications of voice become not only a\nlanguage through which we understand the emotions of others, but also the\nmeans of exciting our sympathy with such emotions.\n\nHave we not here, then, adequate data for a theory of music? These vocal\npeculiarities which indicate excited feeling, _are those which especially\ndistinguish song from ordinary speech_. Every one of the alterations of\nvoice which we have found to be a physiological result of pain or pleasure,\n_is carried to its greatest extreme in vocal music_. For instance, we saw\nthat, in virtue of the general relation between mental and muscular\nexcitement, one characteristic of passionate utterance is _loudness_. Well,\nits comparative loudness is one of the distinctive marks of song as\ncontrasted with the speech of daily life; and further, the _forte_ passages\nof an air are those intended to represent the climax of its emotion. We\nnext saw that the tones in which emotion expresses itself, are, in\nconformity with this same law, of a more sonorous _timbre_ than those of\ncalm conversation. Here, too, song displays a still higher degree of the\npeculiarity; for the singing tone is the most resonant we can make. Again,\nit was shown that, from a like cause, mental excitement vents itself in the\nhigher and lower notes of the register; using the middle notes but seldom.\nAnd it scarcely needs saying that vocal music is still more distinguished\nby its comparative neglect of the notes in which we talk, and its habitual\nuse of those above or below them and, moreover, that its most passionate\neffects are commonly produced at the two extremities of its scale, but\nespecially the upper one.\n\nA yet further trait of strong feeling, similarly accounted for, was the\nemployment of larger intervals than are employed in common converse. This\ntrait, also, every ballad and _aria_ carries to an extent beyond that heard\nin the spontaneous utterances of emotion: add to which, that the direction\nof these intervals, which, as diverging from or converging towards the\nmedium tones, we found to be physiologically expressive of increasing or\ndecreasing emotion, may be observed to have in music like meanings. Once\nmore, it was pointed out that not only extreme but also rapid variations of\npitch, are characteristic of mental excitement; and once more we see in the\nquick changes of every melody, that song carries the characteristic as far,\nif not farther. Thus, in respect alike of _loudness_, _timbre_, _pitch_,\n_intervals_, and _rate of variation_, song employs and exaggerates the\nnatural language of the emotions;--it arises from a systematic combination\nof those vocal peculiarities which are the physiological effects of acute\npleasure and pain.\n\nBesides these chief characteristics of song as distinguished from common\nspeech, there are sundry minor ones similarly explicable as due to the\nrelation between mental and muscular excitement; and before proceeding\nfurther, these should be briefly noticed. Thus, certain passions, and\nperhaps all passions when pushed to an extreme, produce (probably through\ntheir influence over the action of the heart) an effect the reverse of that\nwhich has been described: they cause a physical prostration, one symptom of\nwhich is a general relaxation of the muscles, and a consequent trembling.\nWe have the trembling of anger, of fear, of hope, of joy; and the vocal\nmuscles being implicated with the rest, the voice too becomes tremulous.\nNow, in singing, this tremulousness of voice is very effectively used by\nsome vocalists in highly pathetic passages; sometimes, indeed, because of\nits effectiveness, too much used by them--as by Tamberlik, for instance.\n\nAgain, there is a mode of musical execution known as the _staccato_,\nappropriate to energetic passages--to passages expressive of exhilaration,\nof resolution, of confidence. The action of the vocal muscles which\nproduces this staccato style, is analogous to the muscular action which\nproduces the sharp, decisive, energetic movements of body indicating these\nstates of mind; and therefore it is that the staccato style has the meaning\nwe ascribe to it. Conversely, slurred intervals are expressive of gentler\nand less active feelings; and are so because they imply the smaller\nmuscular vivacity due to a lower mental energy. The difference of effect\nresulting from difference of _time_ in music, is also attributable to the\nsame law. Already it has been pointed out that the more frequent changes of\npitch which ordinarily result from passion, are imitated and developed in\nsong; and here we have to add, that the various rates of such changes,\nappropriate to the different styles of music, are further traits having the\nsame derivation. The slowest movements, _largo_ and _adagio_, are used\nwhere such depressing emotions as grief, or such unexciting emotions as\nreverence, are to be portrayed; while the more rapid movements, _andante_,\n_allegro_, _presto_, represent successively increasing degrees of mental\nvivacity; and do this because they imply that muscular activity which flows\nfrom this mental vivacity. Even the _rhythm_, which forms a remaining\ndistinction between song and speech, may not improbably have a kindred\ncause. Why the actions excited by strong feeling should tend to become\nrhythmical, is not very obvious; but that they do so there are divers\nevidences. There is the swaying of the body to and fro under pain or grief,\nof the leg under impatience or agitation. Dancing, too, is a rhythmical\naction natural to elevated emotion. That under excitement speech acquires a\ncertain rhythm, we may occasionally perceive in the highest efforts of an\norator. In poetry, which is a form of speech used for the better expression\nof emotional ideas, we have this rhythmical tendency developed. And when we\nbear in mind that dancing, poetry, and music are connate--are originally\nconstituent parts of the same thing, it becomes clear that the measured\nmovement common to them all implies a rhythmical action of the whole\nsystem, the vocal apparatus included; and that so the rhythm of music is a\nmore subtle and complex result of this relation between mental and muscular\nexcitement.\n\nBut it is time to end this analysis, which, possibly we have already\ncarried too far. It is not to be supposed that the more special\npeculiarities of musical expression are to be definitely explained. Though\nprobably they may all in some way conform to the principle that has been\nworked out, it is obviously impracticable to trace that principle in its\nmore ramified applications. Nor is it needful to our argument that it\nshould be so traced. The foregoing facts sufficiently prove that what we\nregard as the distinctive traits of song, are simply the traits of\nemotional speech intensified and systematized. In respect of its general\ncharacteristics, we think it has been made clear that vocal music, and by\nconsequence all music, is an idealization of the natural language of\npassion.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs far as it goes, the scanty evidence furnished by history confirms this\nconclusion. Note first the fact (not properly an historical one, but fitly\ngrouped with such) that the dance-chants of savage tribes are very\nmonotonous; and in virtue of their monotony are much more nearly allied to\nordinary speech than are the songs of civilized races. Joining with this\nthe fact that there are still extant among boatmen and others in the East,\nancient chants of a like monotonous character, we may infer that vocal\nmusic originally diverged from emotional speech in a gradual, unobtrusive\nmanner; and this is the inference to which our argument points. Further\nevidence to the same effect is supplied by Greek history. The early poems\nof the Greeks--which, be it remembered, were sacred legends embodied in\nthat rhythmical, metaphorical language which strong feeling excites--were\nnot recited, but chanted: the tones and the cadences were made musical by\nthe same influences which made the speech poetical.\n\nBy those who have investigated the matter, this chanting is believed to\nhave been not what we call singing, but nearly allied to our recitative;\n(far simpler indeed, if we may judge from the fact that the early Greek\nlyre, which had but _four_ strings, was played in _unison_ with the voice,\nwhich was therefore confined to four notes;) and as such, much less remote\nfrom common speech than our own singing is. For recitative, or musical\nrecitation, is in all respects intermediate between speech and song. Its\naverage effects are not so _loud_ as those of song. Its tones are less\nsonorous in _timbre_ than those of song. Commonly it diverges to a smaller\nextent from the middle notes--uses notes neither so high nor so low in\n_pitch_. The _intervals_ habitual to it are neither so wide nor so varied.\nIts _rate of variation_ is not so rapid. And at the same time that its\nprimary _rhythm_ is less decided, it has none of that secondary rhythm\nproduced by recurrence of the same or parallel musical phrases, which is\none of the marked characteristics of song. Thus, then, we may not only\ninfer, from the evidence furnished by existing barbarous tribes, that the\nvocal music of pre-historic times was emotional speech very slightly\nexalted; but we see that the earliest vocal music of which we have any\naccount, differed much less from emotional speech than does the vocal music\nof our days.\n\nThat recitative--beyond which, by the way, the Chinese and Hindoos seem\nnever to have advanced--grew naturally out of the modulations and cadences\nof strong feeling, we have indeed still current evidence. There are even\nnow to be met with occasions on which strong feeling vents itself in this\nform. Whoever has been present when a meeting of Quakers was addressed by\none of their preachers (whose practice it is to speak only under the\ninfluence of religious emotion), must have been struck by the quite unusual\ntones, like those of a subdued chant, in which the address was made. It is\nclear, too, that the intoning used in some churches, is representative of\nthis same mental state; and has been adopted on account of the\ninstinctively felt congruity between it and the contrition, supplication,\nor reverence verbally expressed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd if, as we have good reason to believe, recitative arose by degrees out\nof emotional speech, it becomes manifest that by a continuance of the same\nprocess song has arisen out of recitative. Just as, from the orations and\nlegends of savages, expressed in the metaphorical, allegorical style\nnatural to them, there sprung epic poetry, out of which lyric poetry was\nafterwards developed; so, from the exalted tones and cadences in which such\norations and legends were delivered, came the chant or recitative music,\nfrom whence lyrical music has since grown up. And there has not only thus\nbeen a simultaneous and parallel genesis, but there is also a parallelism\nof results. For lyrical poetry differs from epic poetry, just as lyrical\nmusic differs from recitative: each still further intensifies the natural\nlanguage of the emotions. Lyrical poetry is more metaphorical, more\nhyperbolic, more elliptical, and adds the rhythm of lines to the rhythm of\nfeet; just as lyrical music is louder, more sonorous, more extreme in its\nintervals, and adds the rhythm of phrases to the rhythm of bars. And the\nknown fact that out of epic poetry the stronger passions developed lyrical\npoetry as their appropriate vehicle, strengthens the inference that they\nsimilarly developed lyrical music out of recitative.\n\nNor indeed are we without evidences of the transition. It needs but to\nlisten to an opera to hear the leading gradations. Between the\ncomparatively level recitative of ordinary dialogue, the more varied\nrecitative with wider intervals and higher tones used in exciting scenes,\nthe still more musical recitative which preludes an air, and the air\nitself, the successive steps are but small; and the fact that among airs\nthemselves gradations of like nature may be traced, further confirms the\nconclusion that the highest form of vocal music was arrived at by degrees.\n\nMoreover, we have some clue to the influences which have induced this\ndevelopment; and may roughly conceive the process of it. As the tones,\nintervals, and cadences of strong emotion were the elements out of which\nsong was elaborated; so, we may expect to find that still stronger emotion\nproduced the elaboration: and we have evidence implying this. Instances in\nabundance may be cited, showing that musical composers are men of extremely\nacute sensibilities. The Life of Mozart depicts him as one of intensely\nactive affections and highly impressionable temperament. Various anecdotes\nrepresent Beethoven as very susceptible and very passionate. Mendelssohn is\ndescribed by those who knew him to have been full of fine feeling. And the\nalmost incredible sensitiveness of Chopin has been illustrated in the\nmemoirs of George Sand. An unusually emotional nature being thus the\ngeneral characteristic of musical composers, we have in it just the agency\nrequired for the development of recitative and song. Intenser feeling\nproducing intenser manifestations, any cause of excitement will call forth\nfrom such a nature, tones and changes of voice more marked than those\ncalled forth from an ordinary nature--will generate just those\nexaggerations which we have found to distinguish the lower vocal music from\nemotional speech, and the higher vocal music from the lower. Thus it\nbecomes credible that the four-toned recitative of the early Greek poets\n(like all poets, nearly allied to composers in the comparative intensity of\ntheir feelings), was really nothing more than the slightly exaggerated\nemotional speech natural to them, which grew by frequent use into an\norganized form. And it is readily conceivable that the accumulated agency\nof subsequent poet-musicians, inheriting and adding to the products of\nthose who went before them, sufficed, in the course of the ten centuries\nwhich we know it took, to develope this four-toned recitative into a vocal\nmusic having a range of two octaves.\n\nNot only may we so understand how more sonorous tones, greater extremes of\npitch, and wider intervals, were gradually introduced; but also how there\narose a greater variety and complexity of musical expression. For this same\npassionate, enthusiastic temperament, which naturally leads the musical\ncomposer to express the feelings possessed by others as well as himself, in\nextremer intervals and more marked cadences than they would use, also leads\nhim to give musical utterance to feelings which they either do not\nexperience, or experience in but slight degrees. In virtue of this general\nsusceptibility which distinguishes him, he regards with emotion, events,\nscenes, conduct, character, which produce upon most men no appreciable\neffect. The emotions so generated, compounded as they are of the simpler\nemotions, are not expressible by intervals and cadences natural to these,\nbut by combinations of such intervals and cadences: whence arise more\ninvolved musical phrases, conveying more complex, subtle, and unusual\nfeelings. And thus we may in some measure understand how it happens that\nmusic not only so strongly excites our more familiar feelings, but also\nproduces feelings we never had before--arouses dormant sentiments of which\nwe had not conceived the possibility and do not know the meaning; or, as\nRichter says--tells us of things we have not seen and shall not see.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIndirect evidences of several kinds remain to be briefly pointed out. One\nof them is the difficulty, not to say impossibility, of otherwise\naccounting for the expressiveness of music. Whence comes it that special\ncombinations of notes should have special effects upon our emotions?--that\none should give us a feeling of exhilaration, another of melancholy,\nanother of affection, another of reverence? Is it that these special\ncombinations have intrinsic meanings apart from the human\nconstitution?--that a certain number of aerial waves per second, followed\nby a certain other number, in the nature of things signify grief, while in\nthe reverse order they signify joy; and similarly with all other intervals,\nphrases, and cadences? Few will be so irrational as to think this. Is it,\nthen, that the meanings of these special combinations are conventional\nonly?--that we learn their implications, as we do those of words, by\nobserving how others understand them? This is an hypothesis not only devoid\nof evidence, but directly opposed to the experience of every one. How,\nthen, are musical effects to be explained? If the theory above set forth be\naccepted, the difficulty disappears. If music, taking for its raw material\nthe various modifications of voice which are the physiological results of\nexcited feeling, intensifies, combines, and complicates them--if it\nexaggerates the loudness, the resonance, the pitch, the intervals, and the\nvariability, which, in virtue of an organic law, are the characteristics of\npassionate speech--if, by carrying out these further, more consistently,\nmore unitedly, and more sustainedly, it produces an idealized language of\nemotion; then its power over us becomes comprehensible. But in the absence\nof this theory, the expressiveness of music appears to be inexplicable.\n\nAgain, the preference we feel for certain qualities of sound presents a\nlike difficulty, admitting only of a like solution. It is generally agreed\nthat the tones of the human voice are more pleasing than any others. Grant\nthat music takes its rise from the modulations of the human voice under\nemotion, and it becomes a natural consequence that the tones of that voice\nshould appeal to our feelings more than any others; and so should be\nconsidered more beautiful than any others. But deny that music has this\norigin, and the only alternative is the untenable position that the\nvibrations proceeding from a vocalist's throat are, objectively considered,\nof a higher order than those from a horn or a violin. Similarly with harsh\nand soft sounds. If the conclusiveness of the foregoing reasonings be not\nadmitted, it must be supposed that the vibrations causing the last are\nintrinsically better than those causing the first; and that, in virtue of\nsome pre-established harmony, the higher feelings and natures produce the\none, and the lower the other. But if the foregoing reasonings be valid, it\nfollows, as a matter of course, that we shall like the sounds that\nhabitually accompany agreeable feelings, and dislike those that habitually\naccompany disagreeable feelings.\n\nOnce more, the question--How is the expressiveness of music to be otherwise\naccounted for? may be supplemented by the question--How is the genesis of\nmusic to be otherwise accounted for? That music is a product of\ncivilization is manifest; for though savages have their dance-chants, these\nare of a kind scarcely to be dignified by the title musical: at most, they\nsupply but the vaguest rudiment of music, properly so called. And if music\nhas been by slow steps developed in the course of civilization, it must\nhave been developed out of something. If, then, its origin is not that\nabove alleged, what is its origin?\n\nThus we find that the negative evidence confirms the positive, and that,\ntaken together, they furnish strong proof. We have seen that there is a\nphysiological relation, common to man and all animals, between feeling and\nmuscular action; that as vocal sounds are produced by muscular action,\nthere is a consequent physiological relation between feeling and vocal\nsounds; that all the modifications of voice expressive of feeling are the\ndirect results of this physiological relation; that music, adopting all\nthese modifications, intensifies them more and more as it ascends to its\nhigher and higher forms, and becomes music simply in virtue of thus\nintensifying them; that, from the ancient epic poet chanting his verses,\ndown to the modern musical composer, men of unusually strong feelings prone\nto express them in extreme forms, have been naturally the agents of these\nsuccessive intensifications; and that so there has little by little arisen\na wide divergence between this idealized language of emotion and its\nnatural language: to which direct evidence we have just added the\nindirect--that on no other tenable hypothesis can either the expressiveness\nor the genesis of music be explained.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now, what is the _function_ of music? Has music any effect beyond the\nimmediate pleasure it produces? Analogy suggests that it has. The\nenjoyments of a good dinner do not end with themselves, but minister to\nbodily well-being. Though people do not marry with a view to maintain the\nrace, yet the passions which impel them to marry secure its maintenance.\nParental affection is a feeling which, while it conduces to parental\nhappiness, ensures the nurture of offspring. Men love to accumulate\nproperty, often without thought of the benefits it produces; but in\npursuing the pleasure of acquisition they indirectly open the way to other\npleasures. The wish for public approval impels all of us to do many things\nwhich we should otherwise not do,--to undertake great labours, face great\ndangers, and habitually rule ourselves in a way that smooths social\nintercourse: that is, in gratifying our love of approbation we subserve\ndivers ulterior purposes. And, generally, our nature is such that in\nfulfilling each desire, we in some way facilitate the fulfilment of the\nrest. But the love of music seems to exist for its own sake. The delights\nof melody and harmony do not obviously minister to the welfare either of\nthe individual or of society. May we not suspect, however, that this\nexception is apparent only? Is it not a rational inquiry--What are the\nindirect benefits which accrue from music, in addition to the direct\npleasure it gives?\n\nBut that it would take us too far out of our track, we should prelude this\ninquiry by illustrating at some length a certain general law of\nprogress;--the law that alike in occupations, sciences, arts, the divisions\nthat had a common root, but by continual divergence have become distinct,\nand are now being separately developed, are not truly independent, but\nseverally act and react on each other to their mutual advancement. Merely\nhinting thus much, however, by way of showing that there are many analogies\nto justify us, we go on to express the opinion that there exists a\nrelationship of this kind between music and speech.\n\nAll speech is compounded of two elements, the words and the tones in which\nthey are uttered--the signs of ideas and the signs of feelings. While\ncertain articulations express the thought, certain vocal sounds express the\nmore or less of pain or pleasure which the thought gives. Using the word\n_cadence_ in an unusually extended sense, as comprehending all\nmodifications of voice, we may say that _cadence is the commentary of the\nemotions upon the propositions of the intellect_. This duality of spoken\nlanguage, though not formally recognised, is recognised in practice by\nevery one; and every one knows that very often more weight attaches to the\ntones than to the words. Daily experience supplies cases in which the same\nsentence of disapproval will be understood as meaning little or meaning\nmuch, according to the inflections of voice which accompany it; and daily\nexperience supplies still more striking cases in which words and tones are\nin direct contradiction--the first expressing consent, while the last\nexpress reluctance; and the last being believed rather than the first.\n\nThese two distinct but interwoven elements of speech have been undergoing a\nsimultaneous development. We know that in the course of civilization words\nhave been multiplied, new parts of speech have been introduced, sentences\nhave grown more varied and complex; and we may fairly infer that during the\nsame time new modifications of voice have come into use, fresh intervals\nhave been adopted, and cadences have become more elaborate. For while, on\nthe one hand, it is absurd to suppose that, along with the undeveloped\nverbal forms of barbarism, there existed a developed system of vocal\ninflections; it is, on the other hand, necessary to suppose that, along\nwith the higher and more numerous verbal forms needed to convey the\nmultiplied and complicated ideas of civilized life, there have grown up\nthose more involved changes of voice which express the feelings proper to\nsuch ideas. If intellectual language is a growth, so also, without doubt,\nis emotional language a growth.\n\nNow, the hypothesis which we have hinted above, is, that beyond the direct\npleasure which it gives, music has the indirect effect of developing this\nlanguage of the emotions. Having its root, as we have endeavoured to show,\nin those tones, intervals, and cadences of speech which express\nfeeling--arising by the combination and intensifying of these, and coming\nfinally to have an embodiment of its own; music has all along been reacting\nupon speech, and increasing its power of rendering emotion. The use in\nrecitative and song of inflections more expressive than ordinary ones, must\nfrom the beginning have tended to develope the ordinary ones. Familiarity\nwith the more varied combinations of tones that occur in vocal music, can\nscarcely have failed to give greater variety of combination to the tones in\nwhich we utter our impressions and desires. The complex musical phrases by\nwhich composers have conveyed complex emotions, may rationally be supposed\nto have influenced us in making those involved cadences of conversation by\nwhich we convey our subtler thoughts and feelings.\n\nThat the cultivation of music has no effect on the mind, few will be absurd\nenough to contend. And if it has an effect, what more natural effect is\nthere than this of developing our perception of the meanings of\ninflections, qualities, and modulations of voice; and giving us a\ncorrespondingly increased power of using them? Just as mathematics, taking\nits start from the phenomena of physics and astronomy, and presently coming\nto be a separate science, has since reacted on physics and astronomy to\ntheir immense advancement--just as chemistry, first arising out of the\nprocesses of metallurgy and the industrial arts, and gradually growing into\nan independent study, has now become an aid to all kinds of\nproduction--just as physiology, originating out of medicine and once\nsubordinate to it, but latterly pursued for its own sake, is in our day\ncoming to be the science on which the progress of medicine depends;--so,\nmusic, having its root in emotional language, and gradually evolved from\nit, has ever been reacting upon and further advancing it. Whoever will\nexamine the facts, will find this hypothesis to be in harmony with the\nmethod of civilization everywhere displayed.\n\nIt will scarcely be expected that much direct evidence in support of this\nconclusion can be given. The facts are of a kind which it is difficult to\nmeasure, and of which we have no records. Some suggestive traits, however,\nmay be noted. May we not say, for instance, that the Italians, among whom\nmodern music was earliest cultivated, and who have more especially\npractised and excelled in melody (the division of music with which our\nargument is chiefly concerned)--may we not say that these Italians speak in\nmore varied and expressive inflections and cadences than any other nation?\nOn the other hand, may we not say that, confined almost exclusively as they\nhave hitherto been to their national airs, which have a marked family\nlikeness, and therefore accustomed to but a limited range of musical\nexpression, the Scotch are unusually monotonous in the intervals and\nmodulations of their speech? And again, do we not find among different\nclasses of the same nation, differences that have like implications? The\ngentleman and the clown stand in very decided contrast with respect to\nvariety of intonation. Listen to the conversation of a servant-girl, and\nthen to that of a refined, accomplished lady, and the more delicate and\ncomplex changes of voice used by the latter will be conspicuous. Now,\nwithout going so far as to say that out of all the differences of culture\nto which the upper and lower classes are subjected, difference of musical\nculture is that to which alone this difference of speech is ascribable; yet\nwe may fairly say that there seems a much more obvious connexion of cause\nand effect between these than between any others. Thus, while the inductive\nevidence to which we can appeal is but scanty and vague, yet what there is\nfavours our position.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nProbably most will think that the function here assigned to music is one of\nvery little moment. But further reflection may lead them to a contrary\nconviction. In its bearings upon human happiness, we believe that this\nemotional language which musical culture developes and refines, is only\nsecond in importance to the language of the intellect; perhaps not even\nsecond to it. For these modifications of voice produced by feelings, are\nthe means of exciting like feelings in others. Joined with gestures and\nexpressions of face, they give life to the otherwise dead words in which\nthe intellect utters its ideas; and so enable the hearer not only to\n_understand_ the state of mind they accompany, but to _partake_ of that\nstate. In short, they are the chief media of _sympathy_. And if we consider\nhow much both our general welfare and our immediate pleasures depend upon\nsympathy, we shall recognise the importance of whatever makes this sympathy\ngreater. If we bear in mind that by their fellow-feeling men are led to\nbehave justly, kindly and considerately to each other--that the difference\nbetween the cruelty of the barbarous and the humanity of the civilized,\nresults from the increase of fellow-feeling; if we bear in mind that this\nfaculty which makes us sharers in the joys and sorrows of others, is the\nbasis of all the higher affections--that in friendship, love, and all\ndomestic pleasures, it is an essential element; if we bear in mind how much\nour direct gratifications are intensified by sympathy,--how, at the\ntheatre, the concert, the picture gallery, we lose half our enjoyment if we\nhave no one to enjoy with us; if, in short, we bear in mind that for all\nhappiness beyond what the unfriended recluse can have, we are indebted to\nthis same sympathy;--we shall see that the agencies which communicate it\ncan scarcely be overrated in value.\n\nThe tendency of civilization is more and more to repress the antagonistic\nelements of our characters and to develope the social ones--to curb our\npurely selfish desires and exercise our unselfish ones--to replace private\ngratifications by gratifications resulting from, or involving, the\nhappiness of others. And while, by this adaptation to the social state, the\nsympathetic side of our nature is being unfolded, there is simultaneously\ngrowing up a language of sympathetic intercourse--a language through which\nwe communicate to others the happiness we feel, and are made sharers in\ntheir happiness.\n\nThis double process, of which the effects are already sufficiently\nappreciable, must go on to an extent of which we can as yet have no\nadequate conception. The habitual concealment of our feelings diminishing,\nas it must, in proportion as our feelings become such as do not demand\nconcealment, we may conclude that the exhibition of them will become much\nmore vivid than we now dare allow it to be; and this implies a more\nexpressive emotional language. At the same time, feelings of a higher and\nmore complex kind, as yet experienced only by the cultivated few, will\nbecome general; and there will be a corresponding development of the\nemotional language into more involved forms. Just as there has silently\ngrown up a language of ideas, which, rude as it at first was, now enables\nus to convey with precision the most subtle and complicated thoughts; so,\nthere is still silently growing up a language of feelings, which\nnotwithstanding its present imperfection, we may expect will ultimately\nenable men vividly and completely to impress on each other all the emotions\nwhich they experience from moment to moment.\n\nThus if, as we have endeavoured to show, it is the function of music to\nfacilitate the development of this emotional language, we may regard music\nas an aid to the achievement of that higher happiness which it indistinctly\nshadows forth. Those vague feelings of unexperienced felicity which music\narouses--those indefinite impressions of an unknown ideal life which it\ncalls up, may be considered as a prophecy, to the fulfilment of which music\nis itself partly instrumental. The strange capacity which we have for being\nso affected by melody and harmony, may be taken to imply both that it is\nwithin the possibilities of our nature to realize those intenser delights\nthey dimly suggest, and that they are in some way concerned in the\nrealization of them. On this supposition the power and the meaning of music\nbecome comprehensible; but otherwise they are a mystery.\n\nWe will only add, that if the probability of these corollaries be admitted,\nthen music must take rank as the highest of the fine arts--as the one\nwhich, more than any other, ministers to human welfare. And thus, even\nleaving out of view the immediate gratifications it is hourly giving, we\ncannot too much applaud that progress of musical culture which is becoming\none of the characteristics of our age.\n\n\n\n\nVI. THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS.\n\n\nInquiring into the pedigree of an idea is not a bad means of roughly\nestimating its value. To have come of respectable ancestry, is _prima\nfacie_ evidence of worth in a belief as in a person; while to be descended\nfrom a discreditable stock is, in the one case as in the other, an\nunfavorable index. The analogy is not a mere fancy. Beliefs, together with\nthose who hold them, are modified little by little in successive\ngenerations; and as the modifications which successive generations of the\nholders undergo, do not destroy the original type, but only disguise and\nrefine it, so the accompanying alterations of belief, however much they\npurify, leave behind the essence of the original belief.\n\nConsidered genealogically, the received theory respecting the creation of\nthe Solar System is unmistakeably of low origin. You may clearly trace it\nback to primitive mythologies. Its remotest ancestor is the doctrine that\nthe celestial bodies are personages who originally lived on the Earth--a\ndoctrine still held by some of the negroes Livingstone visited. Science\nhaving divested the sun and planets of their divine personalities, this old\nidea was succeeded by the idea which even Kepler entertained, that the\nplanets are guided in their courses by presiding spirits: no longer\nthemselves gods, they are still severally kept in their orbits by gods. And\nwhen gravitation came to dispense with these celestial steersmen, there was\nbegotten a belief, less gross than its parent, but partaking of the same\nessential nature, that the planets were originally launched into their\norbits from the Creator's hand. Evidently, though much refined, the\nanthropomorphism of the current hypothesis is inherited from the aboriginal\nanthropomorphism, which described gods as a stronger order of men.\n\nThere is an antagonist hypothesis which does not propose to honour the\nUnknown Power manifested in the Universe, by such titles as \"The\nMaster-Builder,\" or \"The Great Artificer;\" but which regards this Unknown\nPower as probably working after a method quite different from that of human\nmechanics. And the genealogy of this hypothesis is as high as that of the\nother is low. It is begotten by that ever-enlarging and ever-strengthening\nbelief in the presence of Law, which accumulated experiences have gradually\nproduced in the human mind. From generation to generation Science has been\nproving uniformities of relation among phenomena which were before thought\neither fortuitous or supernatural in their origin--has been showing an\nestablished order and a constant causation where ignorance had assumed\nirregularity and arbitrariness. Each further discovery of Law has increased\nthe presumption that Law is everywhere conformed to. And hence, among other\nbeliefs, has arisen the belief that the Solar System originated, not by\n_manufacture_ but by _evolution_. Besides its abstract parentage in those\ngrand general conceptions which positive Science has generated, this\nhypothesis has a concrete parentage of the highest character. Based as it\nis on the law of universal gravitation, it may claim for its remote\nprogenitor the great thinker who established that law. The man who gave it\nits general shape, by promulgating the doctrine that stars result from the\naggregation of diffused matter, was the most diligent, careful, and\noriginal astronomical observer of modern times. And the world has not seen\na more learned mathematician than the man who, setting out with this\nconception of diffused matter concentrating towards its centre of gravity,\npointed out the way in which there would arise, in the course of its\nconcentration, a balanced group of sun, planets, and satellites, like that\nof which the Earth is a member.\n\nThus, even were there but little direct evidence assignable for the Nebular\nHypothesis, the probability of its truth would still be strong. Its own\nhigh derivation and the low derivation of the antagonist hypothesis, would\ntogether form a weighty reason for accepting it--at any rate,\nprovisionally. But the direct evidence assignable for the Nebular\nHypothesis is by no means little. It is far greater in quantity, and more\nvaried in kind, than is commonly supposed. Much has been said here and\nthere on this or that class of evidences; but nowhere, as far as we know,\nhave all the evidences, even of one class, been fully stated; and still\nless has there been an adequate statement of the several groups of\nevidences in their _ensemble_. We propose here to do something towards\nsupplying the deficiency: believing that, joined with the _a priori_\nreasons given above, the array of _a posteriori_ reasons will leave little\ndoubt in the mind of any candid inquirer.\n\nAnd first, let us address ourselves to those recent discoveries in stellar\nastronomy, which have been supposed to conflict with this celebrated\nspeculation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Sir William Herschel, directing his great reflector to various\nnebulous spots, found them resolvable into clusters of stars, he inferred,\nand for a time maintained, that all nebulous spots are clusters of stars\nexceedingly remote from us. But after years of conscientious investigation,\nhe concluded that \"there were nebulosities which are not of a starry\nnature;\" and on this conclusion was based his hypothesis of a diffused\nluminous fluid, which by its eventual aggregation, produced stars. A\ntelescopic power much exceeding that used by Herschel, has enabled Lord\nRosse to resolve some of the nebulae previously unresolved; and, returning\nto the conclusion which Herschel first formed on similar grounds but\nafterwards rejected, many astronomers have assumed that, under sufficiently\nhigh powers, every nebula would be decomposed into stars--that the\nresolvability is solely a question of distance. The hypothesis now commonly\nentertained is, that all nebulae are galaxies more or less like in nature to\nthat immediately surrounding us; but that they are so inconceivably remote,\nas to look, through an ordinary telescope, like small faint spots. And not\na few have drawn the corollary, that by the discoveries of Lord Rosse the\nNebular Hypothesis has been disproved.\n\nNow, even supposing that these inferences respecting the distances and\nnatures of the nebulae are valid, they leave the Nebular Hypothesis\nsubstantially as it was. Admitting that each of those faint spots is a\nsidereal system, so far removed that its countless stars give less light\nthan one small star of our own sidereal system; the admission is in no way\ninconsistent with the belief, that stars and their attendant planets have\nbeen formed by the aggregation of nebulous matter. Though, doubtless, if\nthe existence of nebulous matter now in course of concentration be\ndisproved, one of the evidences of the Nebular Hypothesis is destroyed; yet\nthe remaining evidences remain just as they were. It is a perfectly tenable\nposition, that though nebular condensation is now nowhere to be seen in\nprogress, yet it was once going on universally. And, indeed, it might be\nargued that the still-continued existence of diffused nebulous matter is\nscarcely to be expected; seeing that the causes which have resulted in the\naggregation of one mass, must have been acting on all masses, and that\nhence the existence of masses not aggregated would be a fact calling for\nexplanation. Thus, granting the immediate conclusions suggested by these\nrecent disclosures of the six-feet reflector, the corollary which many have\ndrawn is inadmissible.\n\nBut we do not grant these conclusions. Receiving them though we have, for\nyears past, as established truths, a critical examination of the facts has\nconvinced us that they are quite unwarrantable. They involve so many\nmanifest incongruities, that we have been astonished to find men of science\nentertaining them even as probable hypotheses. Let us consider these\nincongruities.\n\nIn the first place, mark what is inferable from the distribution of nebulae.\n\n  \"The spaces which precede or which follow simple nebulae,\" says\n  Arago, \"and, _a fortiori_, groups of nebulae, contain generally few\n  stars. Herschel found this rule to be invariable. Thus, every time\n  that, during a short interval, no star approached, in virtue of the\n  diurnal motion, to place itself in the field of his motionless\n  telescope, he was accustomed to say to the secretary who assisted\n  him, 'Prepare to write; nebulae are about to arrive.'\"\n\nHow does this fact consist with the hypothesis that nebulae are remote\ngalaxies? If there were but one nebula, it would be a curious coincidence\nwere this one nebula so placed in the distant regions of space, as to agree\nin direction with a starless spot in our own sidereal system. If there were\nbut two nebulae, and both were so placed, the coincidence would be\nexcessively strange. What, then, shall we say on finding that there are\nthousands of nebulae so placed? Shall we believe that in thousands of cases\nthese far-removed galaxies happen to agree in their visible positions with\nthe thin places in our own galaxy? Such a belief is next to impossible.\nStill more manifest does the impossibility of it become when we consider\nthe general distribution of nebulae. Besides again showing itself in the\nfact that \"the poorest regions in stars are near the richest in nebulae,\"\nthe law above specified applies to the heavens as a whole. In that zone of\ncelestial space where stars are excessively abundant, nebulae are rare;\nwhile in the two opposite celestial spaces that are furthest removed from\nthis zone, nebulae are abundant. Scarcely any nebulae lie near the galactic\ncircle (or plane of the Milky Way); and the great mass of them lie round\nthe galactic poles. Can this also be mere coincidence? When to the fact\nthat the general mass of nebulae are antithetical in position to the general\nmass of stars, we add the fact that local regions of nebulae are regions\nwhere stars are scarce, and the further fact that single nebulae are\nhabitually found in comparatively starless spots; does not the proof of a\nphysical connexion become overwhelming? Should it not require an infinity\nof evidence to show that nebulae are not parts of our sidereal system? Let\nus see whether any such infinity of evidence is assignable. Let us see\nwhether there is even a single alleged proof which will bear examination.\n\n  \"As seen through colossal telescopes,\" says Humboldt, \"the\n  contemplation of these nebulous masses leads us into regions from\n  whence a ray of light, according to an assumption not wholly\n  improbable, requires millions of years to reach our earth--to\n  distances for whose measurement the dimensions (the distance of\n  Sirius, or the calculated distances of the binary stars in Cygnus and\n  the Centaur) of our nearest stratum of fixed stars scarcely suffice.\"\n\nNow, in this somewhat confused sentence there is expressed a more or less\ndecided belief, that the distances of the nebulae from our galaxy of stars\nas much transcend the distances of our stars from each other, as these\ninterstellar distances transcend the dimensions of our planetary system.\nJust as the diameter of the Earth's orbit, is an inappreciable point when\ncompared with the distance of our Sun from Sirius; so is the distance of\nour Sun from Sirius, an inappreciable point when compared with the distance\nof our galaxy from those far removed galaxies constituting nebulae. Observe\nthe consequences of this assumption.\n\nIf one of these supposed galaxies is so remote that its distance dwarfs our\ninterstellar spaces into points, and therefore makes the dimensions of our\nwhole sidereal system relatively insignificant; does it not inevitably\nfollow that the telescopic power required to resolve this remote galaxy\ninto stars, must be incomparably greater than the telescopic power required\nto resolve the whole of our own galaxy into stars? Is it not certain that\nan instrument which can just exhibit with clearness the most distant stars\nof our own cluster, must be utterly unable to separate one of these remote\nclusters into stars? What, then, are we to think when we find that the same\ninstrument which decomposes hosts of nebulae into stars, _fails_ to resolve\ncompletely our own Milky Way? Take a homely comparison. Suppose a man\nsurrounded by a swarm of bees, extending, as they sometimes do, so high in\nthe air as to be individually almost invisible, were to declare that a\ncertain spot on the horizon was a swarm of bees; and that he knew it\nbecause he could see the bees as separate specks. Astounding as the\nassertion would be, it would not exceed in incredibility this which we are\ncriticising. Reduce the dimensions to figures, and the absurdity becomes\nstill more palpable. In round numbers, the distance of Sirius from the\nEarth is a million times the distance of the Earth from the Sun; and,\naccording to the hypothesis, the distance of a nebula is something like a\nmillion times the distance of Sirius.\n\nNow, our own \"starry island, or nebula,\" as Humboldt calls it, \"forms a\nlens-shaped, flattened, and everywhere detached stratum, whose major axis\nis estimated at seven or eight hundred, and its minor axis at a hundred and\nfifty times the distance of Sirius from the Earth.\"[I] And since it is\nconcluded that our Solar System is near the centre of this aggregation, it\nfollows that our distance from the remotest parts of it is about four\nhundred distances of Sirius. But the stars forming these remotest parts are\nnot individually visible, even through telescopes of the highest power.\nHow, then, can such telescopes make individually visible the stars of a\nnebula which is a million times the distance of Sirius? The implication is,\nthat a star rendered invisible by distance becomes visible if taken two\nthousand five hundred times further off! Shall we accept this implication?\nor shall we not rather conclude that the nebulae are _not_ remote galaxies?\nShall we not infer that, be their nature what it may, they must be at least\nas near to us as the extremities of our own sidereal system?\n\n  [I] Cosmos. (Seventh Edition.) Vol. i. pp. 79, 80.\n\nThroughout the above argument, it is tacitly assumed that differences of\napparent magnitude among the stars, result mainly from differences of\ndistance. On this assumption the current doctrines respecting the nebulae\nare founded; and this assumption is, for the nonce, admitted in each of the\nforegoing criticisms. From the time, however, when it was first made by Sir\nW. Herschel, this assumption has been purely gratuitous; and it now proves\nto be totally inadmissible. But, awkwardly enough, its truth and its\nuntruth are alike fatal to the conclusions of those who argue after the\nmanner of Humboldt. Note the alternative.\n\nOn the one hand, what follows from the untruth of the assumption? If\napparent largeness of stars is not due to comparative nearness, and their\nsuccessively smaller sizes to their greater and greater degrees of\nremoteness, what becomes of the inferences respecting the dimensions of our\nsidereal system and the distances of nebulae? If, as has lately been shown,\nthe almost invisible star 61 Cygni has a greater parallax than [alpha]\nCygni, though, according to an estimate based on Sir W. Herschel's\nassumption, it should be about twelve times more distant--if, as it turns\nout, there exist telescopic stars which are nearer to us than Sirius; of\nwhat worth is the conclusion that the nebulae are very remote, because their\ncomponent luminous masses are made visible only by high telescopic powers?\nClearly, if the most brilliant star in the heavens and a star that cannot\nbe seen by the naked eye, prove to be equidistant, relative distances\ncannot be in the least inferred from relative visibilities. And if so,\nnebulae may be comparatively near, though the starlets of which they are\nmade up appear extremely minute.\n\nOn the other hand, what follows if the truth of the assumption be granted?\nThe arguments used to justify this assumption in the case of the stars,\nequally justify it in the case of the nebulae. It cannot be contended that,\non the average, the _apparent_ sizes of the stars indicate their distances,\nwithout its being admitted that, on the average, the _apparent_ sizes of\nthe nebulae indicate their distances--that, generally speaking, the larger\nare the nearer, and the smaller are the more distant. Mark, now, the\nnecessary inference respecting their resolvability. The largest or nearest\nnebulae will be most easily resolved into stars; the successively smaller\nwill be successively more difficult of resolution; and the irresolvable\nones will be the smallest ones. This, however, is exactly the reverse of\nthe fact. The largest nebulae are either wholly irresolvable, or but\npartially resolvable under the highest telescopic powers; while a great\nproportion of quite small nebulae, are easily resolved by far less powerful\ntelescopes. An instrument through which the great nebula in Andromeda, two\nand a half degrees long and one degree broad, appears merely as a diffused\nlight, decomposes a nebula of fifteen minutes diameter into twenty thousand\nstarry points. At the same time that the individual stars of a nebula eight\nminutes in diameter are so clearly seen as to allow of their number being\nestimated, a nebula covering an area five hundred times as great shows no\nstars at all. What possible explanation can be given of this on the current\nhypothesis?\n\nYet a further difficulty remains--one which is, perhaps, still more\nobviously fatal than the foregoing. This difficulty is presented by the\nphenomena of the Magellanic clouds. Describing the larger of these, Sir\nJohn Herschel says:--\n\n  \"The nubecula major, like the minor, consists partly of large\n  tracts and ill-defined patches of irresolvable nebula, and of\n  nebulosity in every stage of resolution, up to perfectly resolved\n  stars like the Milky Way; as also of regular and irregular nebulae\n  properly so called, of globular clusters in every stage of\n  resolvability, and of clustering groups sufficiently insulated and\n  condensed to come under the designation of 'cluster of\n  stars.'\"--\"Cape Observations,\" p. 146.\n\nIn his \"Outlines of Astronomy,\" Sir John Herschel, after repeating this\ndescription in other words, goes on to remark that--\n\n  \"This combination of characters, rightly considered, is in a high\n  degree instructive, affording an insight into the probable\n  comparative distance of _stars_ and _nebulae_, and the real brightness\n  of individual stars as compared with one another. Taking the apparent\n  semi-diameter of the nubecula major at three degrees, and regarding\n  its solid form as, roughly speaking, spherical, its nearest and most\n  remote parts differ in their distance from us by a little more than a\n  tenth part of our distance from its centre. The brightness of objects\n  situated in its nearer portions, therefore, cannot be _much_\n  exaggerated, nor that of its remoter _much_ enfeebled, by their\n  difference of distance. Yet within this globular space we have\n  collected upwards of six hundred stars of the seventh, eighth, ninth,\n  and tenth magnitude, nearly three hundred nebulae, and globular and\n  other clusters _of all degrees of resolvability_, and smaller\n  scattered stars of every inferior magnitude, from the tenth to such\n  as by their magnitude and minuteness constitute irresolvable\n  nebulosity, extending over tracts of many square degrees. Were there\n  but one such object, it might be maintained without utter\n  improbability that its apparent sphericity is only an effect of\n  foreshortening, and that in reality a much greater proportional\n  difference of distance between its nearer and more remote parts\n  exists. But such an adjustment, improbable enough in one case, must\n  be rejected as too much so for fair argument in two. It must,\n  therefore, be taken as a demonstrated fact, that stars of the seventh\n  or eighth magnitude, and irresolvable nebula, may co-exist within\n  limits of distance not differing in proportion more than as nine to\n  ten.\"--\"Outlines of Astronomy,\" pp. 614, 615.\n\nNow, we think this supplies a _reductio ad absurdum_ of the doctrine we are\ncombating. It gives us the choice of two incredibilities. If we are to\nbelieve that one of these nebulae is so remote that its hundred thousand\nstars look like a milky spot, invisible to the naked eye; we must also\nbelieve that there are single stars so enormous that though removed to this\nsame distance they remain visible. If we accept the other alternative, and\nsay that many nebulae are no further off than our own stars of the eighth\nmagnitude; then it is requisite to say that at a distance not greater than\nthat at which a single star is still faintly visible to the naked eye,\nthere may exist a group of a hundred thousand stars which is invisible to\nthe naked eye. Neither of these positions can be entertained. What, then,\nis the conclusion that remains? This, only:--that the nebulae are not\nfurther off from us than parts of our own sidereal system, of which they\nmust be considered members; and that when they are resolvable into discrete\nmasses, these masses cannot be considered as stars in anything like the\nordinary sense of that word.\n\nAnd now, having seen the untenability of this idea, rashly espoused by\nsundry astronomers, that the nebulae are extremely remote galaxies; let us\nconsider whether the various appearances they present are not reconcileable\nwith the Nebular Hypothesis.\n\nGiven a rare and widely-diffused mass of nebulous matter, having a\ndiameter, say as great as the distance from the Sun to Sirius,[J] what are\nthe successive changes that will take place in it? Mutual gravitation will\napproximate its atoms; but their approximation will be opposed by atomic\nrepulsion, the overcoming of which implies the evolution of heat. As fast\nas this heat partially escapes by radiation, further approximation will\ntake place, attended by further evolution of heat, and so on continuously:\nthe processes not occurring separately as here described, but\nsimultaneously, uninterruptedly, and with increasing activity. Eventually,\nthis slow movement of the atoms towards their common centre of gravity,\nwill bring about phenomena of another order.\n\n  [J] Any objection made to the extreme tenuity this involves, is met\n      by the calculation of Newton, who proved that were a spherical\n      inch of air removed four thousand miles from the Earth, it would\n      expand into a sphere more than filling the orbit of Saturn.\n\nArguing from the known laws of atomic combination, it will happen that when\nthe nebulous mass has reached a particular stage of condensation--when its\ninternally-situated atoms have approached to within certain distances, have\ngenerated a certain amount of heat, and are subject to a certain mutual\npressure (the heat and pressure both increasing as the aggregation\nprogresses); some of them will suddenly enter into chemical union. Whether\nthe binary atoms so produced be of kinds such as we know, which is\npossible; or whether they be of kinds simpler than any we know, which is\nmore probable; matters not to the argument. It suffices that molecular\ncombination of some species will finally take place. When it does take\nplace, it will be accompanied by a great and sudden disengagement of heat;\nand until this excess of heat has escaped, the newly-formed binary atoms\nwill remain uniformly diffused, or, as it were, dissolved in the\npre-existing nebulous medium.\n\nBut now mark what must by-and-by happen. When radiation has adequately\nlowered the temperature, these binary atoms will precipitate; and having\nprecipitated, they will not remain uniformly diffused, but will aggregate\ninto _flocculi_: just as water, when precipitated from air, collects into\nclouds. This _a priori_ conclusion is confirmed by the observation of those\nstill extant portions of nebulous matter which constitute comets; for,\n\"that the luminous part of a comet is something in the nature of a smoke,\nfog, or cloud, suspended in a transparent atmosphere, is evident,\" says Sir\nJohn Herschel.\n\nConcluding, then, that a nebulous mass will, in course of time, resolve\nitself into flocculi of precipitated denser matter, floating in the rarer\nmedium from which they were precipitated, let us inquire what will be the\nmechanical results. We shall find that they will be quite different from\nthose occurring in the original homogeneous mass; and also quite different\nfrom those which would occur among discrete masses dispersed through empty\nspace. Bodies dispersed through empty space, would move in straight lines\ntowards their common centre of gravity. So, too, would bodies dispersed\nthrough a resisting medium, provided they were spherical, or of forms\npresenting symmetrical faces to their lines of movement. But _irregular_\nbodies dispersed through a resisting medium, will _not_ move in straight\nlines towards their common centre of gravity. A mass which presents an\nirregular face to its line of movement through a resisting medium, must\nnecessarily be deflected from its original course, by the unequal reactions\nof the medium on its different sides. Hence each _flocculus_, as by analogy\nwe term one of these precipitated masses of gas or vapour, will acquire a\nmovement, not towards the common centre of gravity, but towards one or\nother side of it; and this oblique movement, accelerated as well as changed\nin direction by the increasing centripetal force, but retarded by the\nresisting medium, will result in a spiral, ending in the common centre of\ngravity. Observe, however, that this conclusion, valid as far as it goes,\nby no means proves a common spiral movement of all the flocculi; for as\nthey must not only be varied in their forms, but disposed in all varieties\nof position, their respective movements will be deflected, not towards one\nside of the common centre of gravity, but towards various sides. How then\ncan there result a spiral movement common to them all? Very simply. Each\nflocculus, in describing its spiral course, must give motion to the rarer\nmedium through which it is moving.\n\nNow, the probabilities are infinity to one against all the respective\nmotions thus impressed on this rarer medium, exactly balancing each other.\nAnd if they do not balance each other, the inevitable result must be a\nrotation of the whole mass of the rarer medium in one direction. But\npreponderating momentum in one direction, having caused rotation of the\nmedium in that direction, the rotating medium must in its turn gradually\narrest such flocculi as are moving in opposition, and impress its own\nmotion upon them; and thus there will ultimately be formed a rotating\nmedium with suspended flocculi partaking of its motion, while they move in\nconverging spirals towards the common centre of gravity.\n\nBefore comparing these conclusions with the facts, let us pursue the\nreasoning a little further, and observe the subordinate actions, and the\nendless modifications which will result from them. The respective flocculi\nmust not only be drawn towards their common centre of gravity, but also\ntowards neighbouring flocculi. Hence the whole assemblage of flocculi will\nbreak up into subordinate groups: each group concentrating towards its\nlocal centre of gravity, and in so doing acquiring a vortical movement,\nlike that subsequently acquired by the whole nebula. Now, according to\ncircumstances, and chiefly according to the size of the original nebulous\nmass, this process of local aggregation will produce various results. If\nthe whole nebula is but small, the local groups of flocculi may be drawn\ninto the common centre of gravity before their constituent masses have\ncoalesced with each other. In a larger nebula, these local aggregations may\nhave concentrated into rotating spheroids of vapour, while yet they have\nmade but little approach towards the general focus of the system. In a\nstill larger nebula, where the local aggregations are both greater and more\nremote from the common centre of gravity, they may have condensed into\nmasses of molten matter before the general distribution of them has greatly\naltered. In short, as the conditions in each case determine, the discrete\nmasses produced may vary indefinitely in number, in size, in density, in\nmotion, in distribution.\n\nAnd now let us return to the visible characters of the nebulae, as observed\nthrough modern telescopes. Take first the description of those nebulae\nwhich, by the hypothesis, must be in an early stage of evolution.\n\n  \"Among the _irregular nebulae_,\" says Sir John Herschel, \"may be\n  comprehended all which, to _a want of complete, and in most\n  instances, even of partial resolvability_ by the power of the 20-feet\n  reflector, unite such a deviation from the circular or elliptic form,\n  or such a want of symmetry (with that form) as preclude their being\n  placed in Class 1, or that of regular nebulae. This second class\n  comprises many of the most remarkable and interesting objects in the\n  heavens, _as well as the most extensive in respect of the area they\n  occupy_.\"\n\nAnd, referring to this same order of objects, M. Arago says:--\"The forms of\nvery large diffuse nebulae do not appear to admit of definition; they have\nno regular outline.\"\n\nNow this coexistence of largeness, irresolvability, irregularity, and\nindefiniteness of outline, is extremely significant. The fact that the\nlargest nebulae are either irresolvable or very difficult to resolve, might\nhave been inferred _a priori_; seeing that irresolvability, implying that\nthe aggregation of precipitated matter has gone on to but a small extent,\nwill be found in nebulae of wide diffusion. Again, the irregularity of these\nlarge, irresolvable nebulae, might also have been expected; seeing that\ntheir outlines, compared by Arago to \"the fantastic figures which\ncharacterize clouds carried away and tossed about by violent and often\ncontrary winds,\" are similarly characteristic of a mass not yet gathered\ntogether by the mutual attraction of its parts. And once more, the fact\nthat these large, irregular, irresolvable nebulae have indefinite\noutlines--outlines that fade off insensibly into surrounding darkness--is\none of like meaning.\n\nSpeaking generally (and of course differences of distance negative anything\nbeyond an average statement), the spiral nebulae are smaller than the\nirregular nebulae, and more resolvable; at the same time that they are not\nso small as the regular nebulae, and not so resolvable. This is as,\naccording to the hypothesis, it should be. The degree of condensation\ncausing spiral movement, is a degree of condensation also implying masses\nof flocculi that are larger, and therefore more visible, than those\nexisting in an earlier stage. Moreover, the forms of these spiral nebulae\nare quite in harmony with the explanation given. The curves of luminous\nmatter which they exhibit, are _not_ such as would be described by more or\nless discrete masses starting from a state of rest, and moving through a\nresisting medium to a common centre of gravity; but they _are_ such as\nwould be described by masses having their movements modified by the\nrotation of the medium.\n\nIn the centre of a spiral nebula is seen a mass both more luminous and more\nresolvable than the rest. Assume that, in process of time, all the spiral\nstreaks of luminous matter which converge to this centre are drawn into it,\nas they must be; assume further, that the flocculi or other discrete bodies\nconstituting these luminous streaks aggregate into larger masses at the\nsame time that they approach the central group, and that the masses forming\nthis central group also aggregate into larger masses (both which are\nnecessary assumptions); and there will finally result a more or less\nglobular group of such larger masses, which will be resolvable with\ncomparative ease. And, as the coalescence and concentration go on, the\nconstituent masses will gradually become fewer, larger, brighter, and more\ndensely collected around the common centre of gravity. See now how\ncompletely this inference agrees with observation. \"The circular form is\nthat which most commonly characterizes resolvable nebulae,\" writes Arago.\n\"Resolvable nebulae,\" says Sir John Herschel, \"are almost universally round\nor oval.\" Moreover, the centre of each group habitually displays a closer\nclustering of the constituent masses than elsewhere; and it is shown that,\nunder the law of gravitation, which we know extends to the stars, this\ndistribution is _not_ one of equilibrium, but implies progressing\nconcentration. While, just as we inferred that, according to circumstances,\nthe extent to which aggregation has been carried must vary; so we find\nthat, in fact, there are regular nebulae of all degrees of resolvability,\nfrom those consisting of innumerable minute discrete masses, to those in\nwhich there are a few large bodies worthy to be called stars.\n\nOn the one hand, then, we see that the notion, of late years uncritically\nreceived, that the nebulae are extremely remote galaxies of stars like those\nwhich make up our own Milky Way, is totally irreconcileable with the\nfacts--involves us in sundry absurdities. On the other hand, we see that\nthe hypothesis of nebular condensation harmonizes with the most recent\nresults of stellar astronomy: nay more--that it supplies us with an\nexplanation of various appearances which in its absence would be\nincomprehensible.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDescending now to the Solar System, let us consider first a class of\nphenomena in some sort transitional--those offered by comets. In comets we\nhave now existing a kind of matter like that out of which, according to the\nNebular Hypothesis, the Solar System was evolved. For the explanation of\nthem, we must hence go back to the time when the substances forming the sun\nand planets were yet unconcentrated.\n\nWhen diffused matter, precipitated from a rarer medium, is aggregating,\nthere are certain to be here and there produced small flocculi, which,\neither in consequence of local currents or the conflicting attractions of\nadjacent masses, remain detached; as do, for instance, minute shreds of\ncloud in a summer sky. In a concentrating nebula these will, in the great\nmajority of cases, eventually coalesce with the larger flocculi near to\nthem. But it is tolerably evident that some of the remotest of these small\nflocculi, formed at the outermost parts of the nebula, will _not_ coalesce\nwith the larger internal masses, but will slowly follow without overtaking\nthem. The relatively greater resistance of the medium necessitates this. As\na single feather falling to the ground will be rapidly left behind by a\npillow-full of feathers; so, in their progress to the common centre of\ngravity, will the outermost shreds of vapour be left behind by the great\nmasses of vapour internally situated. But we are not dependent merely on\nreasoning for this belief. Observation shows us that the less concentrated\nexternal parts of nebulae, _are_ left behind by the more concentrated,\ninternal parts. Examined through high powers, all nebulae, even when they\nhave assumed regular forms, are seen to be surrounded by luminous streaks,\nof which the directions show that they are being drawn into the general\nmass. Still higher powers bring into view still smaller, fainter, and more\nwidely-dispersed streaks. And it cannot be doubted that the minute\nfragments which no telescopic aid makes visible, are yet more numerous and\nwidely dispersed. Thus far, then, inference and observation are at one.\n\nGranting that the great majority of these outlying portions of nebulous\nmatter will be drawn into the central mass long before it reaches a\ndefinite form, the presumption is that some of the very small, far-removed\nportions will not be so; but that before they arrive near it, the central\nmass will have contracted into a comparatively moderate bulk. What now will\nbe the characters of these late-arriving portions?\n\nIn the first place, they will have extremely eccentric orbits. Left behind\nat a time when they were moving towards the centre of gravity in\nslightly-deflected lines, and therefore having but very small angular\nvelocities, they will approach the central mass in greatly elongated\nellipses; and rushing round it will go off again into space. That is, they\nwill behave just as we see comets do; whose orbits are usually so eccentric\nas to be indistinguishable from parabolas.\n\nIn the second place, they will come from all parts of the heavens. Our\nsupposition implies that they were left behind at a time when the nebulous\nmass was of irregular shape, and had not acquired a definite rotary motion;\nand as the separation of them would not be from any one surface of the\nnebulous mass more than another, the conclusion must be that they will come\nto the central body from various directions in space. This, too, is exactly\nwhat happens. Unlike planets, whose orbits approximate to one plane, comets\nhave orbits that show no relation to each other; but cut the plane of the\necliptic at all angles.\n\nIn the third place, applying the reasoning already used, these remotest\nflocculi of nebulous matter will, at the outset, be deflected from their\nstraight courses to the common centre of gravity, not all on one side, but\neach on such side as its form determines. And being left behind before the\nrotation of the nebula is set up, they will severally retain their\ndifferent individual motions. Hence, following the concentrating mass, they\nwill eventually go round it on all sides; and as often from right to left\nas from left to right. Here again the inference perfectly corresponds with\nthe facts. While all the planets go round the sun from west to east, comets\nas often go round the sun from east to west as from west to east. Out of\n210 comets known in 1855, 104 are direct, and 106 are retrograde. This\nequality is what the law of probabilities would indicate.\n\nThen, in the fourth place, the physical constitution of comets completely\naccords with the hypothesis. The ability of nebulous matter to concentrate\ninto a concrete form, depends on its mass. To bring its ultimate atoms into\nthat proximity requisite for chemical union--requisite, that is, for the\nproduction of denser matter--their repulsion must be overcome. The only\nforce antagonistic to their repulsion, is their mutual gravitation. That\ntheir mutual gravitation may generate a pressure and temperature of\nsufficient intensity, there must be an enormous accumulation of them; and\neven then the approximation can slowly go on only as fast as the evolved\nheat escapes. But where the quantity of atoms is small, and therefore the\nforce of mutual gravitation small, there will be nothing to coerce the\natoms into union. Whence we infer that these detached fragments of nebulous\nmatter will continue in their original state. We find that they do so.\nComets consist of an extremely rare medium, which, as shown by the\ndescription already quoted from Sir John Herschel, has characters like\nthose we concluded would belong to partially-condensed nebulous matter.\n\nYet another very significant fact is seen in the distribution of comets.\nThough they come from all parts of the heavens, they by no means come in\nequal abundance from all parts of the heavens; but are far more numerous\nabout the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane. Speaking generally,\ncomets having orbit-planes that are highly inclined to the ecliptic, are\ncomets having orbits of which the major axes are highly inclined to the\necliptic--comets that come from high latitudes. This is not a necessary\nconnexion; for the planes of the orbits _might_ be highly inclined to the\necliptic while the major axes were inclined to it very little. But in the\nabsence of any habitually-observed relation of this kind, it may safely be\nconcluded that, _on the average_, highly-inclined cometary orbits are\ncometary orbits with highly-inclined major axes; and that thus, a\npredominance of cometary orbits cutting the plane of the ecliptic at great\nangles, implies a predominance of cometary orbits having major axes that\ncut the ecliptic at great angles. Now the predominance of highly inclined\ncometary orbits, may be gathered from the following table, compiled by M.\nArago, to which we have added a column giving the results up to a date two\nyears later.\n\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n  |  Inclinations.  |Number of Comets |Number of Comets |Number of Comets |\n  |                 |in 1831.         |in 1853.         |in 1855.         |\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n  |  Deg. to Deg.   |                 |                 |                 |\n  |  From 0 to 10   |         9       |       19        |       19        |\n  |    \" 10  \" 20   |        13       |       18        |       19        |\n  |    \" 20  \" 30   |        10       |       13        |       14        |\n  |    \" 30  \" 40   |        17       |       22        |       22        |\n  |    \" 40  \" 50   |        14       |       35        |       36        |\n  |    \" 50  \" 60   |        23       |       27        |       29        |\n  |    \" 60  \" 70   |        17       |       23        |       25        |\n  |    \" 70  \" 80   |        19       |       26        |       27        |\n  |    \" 80  \" 90   |        15       |       18        |       19        |\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n  |      Total      |       137       |       201       |       210       |\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nAt first sight this table seems not to warrant our statement. Assuming the\nalleged general relation between the inclinations of cometary orbits, and\nthe directions in space from which the comets come, the table may be\nthought to show that the frequency of comets increases as we progress from\nthe plane of the ecliptic up to 45 deg., and then decreases up to 90 deg. But this\napparent diminution arises from the fact that the successive zones of space\nrapidly diminish in their areas on approaching the poles. If we allow for\nthis, we shall find that the excess of comets continues to increase up to\nthe highest angles of inclination. In the table below, which, for\nconvenience, is arranged in inverted order, we have taken as standards of\ncomparison the area of the zone round the pole, and the number of comets it\ncontains; and having ascertained the areas of the other zones, and the\nnumbers of comets they should contain were comets equally distributed, we\nhave shown how great becomes the deficiency in descending from the poles of\nthe ecliptic to its plane.\n\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n  |            |         | Number of  |  Actual   |           | Relative  |\n  |  Between   | Area of | Comets, if | Number of |Deficiency.|Abundance. |\n  |            |  Zone.  |  equally   | Comets.   |           |           |\n  |            |         |distributed.|           |           |           |\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n  | Deg.  Deg. |         |            |           |           |           |\n  | 90 and 80  |     1   |        19  |         19|        0  |      11.5 |\n  | 80  \"  70  |     2.98|        56.6|         27|       29.6|       5.5 |\n  | 70  \"  60  |     4.85|        92  |         25|       67  |       3.12|\n  | 60  \"  50  |     6.6 |       125  |         29|       96  |       2.66|\n  | 50  \"  40  |     8.13|       154  |         36|      118  |       2.68|\n  | 40  \"  30  |     9.42|       179  |         22|      157  |       1.4 |\n  | 30  \"  20  |    10.42|       198  |         14|      184  |       0.8 |\n  | 20  \"  10  |    11.1 |       210  |         19|      191  |       1.04|\n  | 10  \"   0  |    11.5 |       218  |         19|      199  |       1   |\n  -------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIn strictness, the calculation should be made with reference, not to the\nplane of the ecliptic, but to the plane of the sun's equator; and this\nmight or might not render the progression more regular. Probably, too, the\nprogression would be made somewhat different were the calculation based, as\nit should be, not on the inclinations of orbit-planes, but on the\ninclinations of major axes. But even as it is, the result is sufficiently\nsignificant: since, though the conclusion that comets are 11.5 times more\nabundant about the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane, can be but a\nrough approximation to the truth, yet no correction of it is likely very\nmuch to change this strong contrast.\n\nWhat, then, is the meaning of this fact? It has several meanings. It\nnegatives the supposition, favoured by Laplace among others, that comets\nare bodies that were wandering in space, or have come from other systems;\nfor the probabilities are infinity to one against the orbits of such\nwandering bodies showing any definite relation to the plane of the Solar\nSystem. For the like reason, it negatives the hypothesis of Lagrange,\notherwise objectionable, that comets have resulted from planetary\ncatastrophes analogous to that which is supposed to have produced the\nasteroids. It clearly shows that, instead of comets being _accidental_\nmembers of the Solar System, they are _necessary_ members of it--have as\ndistinct a structural relation to it as the planets themselves. That comets\nare abundant round the axis of the Solar System, and grow rarer as we\napproach its plane, implies that the genesis of comets has followed some\n_law_--a law in some way concerned with the genesis of the Solar System.\n\nIf we ask for any so-called final cause of this arrangement, none can be\nassigned: until a probable use for comets has been shown, no reason can be\ngiven why they should be thus distributed. But when we consider the\nquestion as one of physical science, we see that comets are antithetical to\nplanets, not only in their great rarity, in their motions as indifferently\ndirect or retrograde, in their eccentric orbits, and in the varied\ndirections of those orbits; but we see the antithesis further marked in\nthis, that while planets have some relation to the plane of nebular\nrotation, comets have some relation to the axis of nebular rotation.[K] And\nwithout attempting to explain the nature of this relation, the mere fact\nthat such a relation exists, indicates that comets have resulted from a\nprocess of evolution--points to a past time when the matter now forming the\nSolar System extended to those distant regions of space which comets visit.\n\n  [K] It is alike remarkable and suggestive, that a parallel relation\n      exists between the distribution of nebulae and the axis of our\n      galaxy. Just as comets are abundant around the poles of our Solar\n      System, and rare in the neighbourhood of its plane: so are nebulae\n      abundant around the poles of our sidereal system, and rare in the\n      neighbourhood of its plane.\n\nSee, then, how differently this class of phenomena bears on the\nantagonistic hypotheses. To the hypothesis commonly received, comets are\nstumbling-blocks: why there should be hundreds (or probably thousands) of\nextremely rare aeriform masses rushing to and fro round the sun, it cannot\nsay; any more than it can explain their physical constitutions, their\nvarious and eccentric movements, or their distribution. The hypothesis of\nevolution, on the other hand, not only allows of the general answer, that\nthey are minor results of the genetic process; but also furnishes us with\nsomething like explanations of their several peculiarities.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now, leaving these erratic bodies, let us turn to the more familiar and\nimportant members of the Solar System. It was the remarkable harmony\nsubsisting among their movements, which first made Laplace conceive that\nthe sun, planets, and satellites had resulted from a common genetic\nprocess. As Sir William Herschel, by his observations on the nebulae, was\nled to the conclusion that stars resulted from the aggregation of diffused\nmatter; so Laplace, by his observations on the structure of the Solar\nSystem, was led to the conclusion that only by the rotation of aggregating\nmatter were its peculiarities to be explained. In his \"Exposition du\nSysteme du Monde,\" he enumerates as the leading evidences of evolution:--1.\nThe movements of the planets in the same direction and almost in the same\nplane; 2. The movements of the satellites in the same direction as those of\nthe planets; 3. The movement of rotation of these various bodies and of the\nsun in the same direction as the orbitual motions, and in planes little\ndifferent; 4. The small eccentricity of the orbits of the planets and\nsatellites, as contrasted with the great eccentricity of the cometary\norbits. And the probability that these harmonious movements had a common\ncause, he calculates as two hundred thousand billions to one.\n\nObserve that this immense preponderance of probability does not point to a\ncommon cause under the form ordinarily conceived--an Invisible Power\nworking after the method of \"a Great Artificer;\" but to an Invisible Power\nworking after the method of evolution. For though the supporters of the\ncommon hypothesis may argue that it was necessary for the sake of stability\nthat the planets should go round the sun in the same direction and nearly\nin one plane, they cannot thus account for the direction of the axial\nmotions. The mechanical equilibrium would not have been at all interfered\nwith, had the sun been without any rotatory movement; or had he revolved on\nhis axis in a direction opposite to that in which the planets go round him;\nor in a direction at right angles to the plane of their orbits. With equal\nsafety the motion of the Moon round the Earth might have been the reverse\nof the Earth's motion round its axis; or the motion of Jupiter's satellites\nmight similarly have been at variance with his axial motion; or that of\nSaturn's satellites with his. As, however, none of these alternatives have\nbeen followed, the uniformity must be considered, in this case as in all\nothers, evidence of subordination to some general law--implies what we call\nnatural causation, as distinguished from arbitrary arrangement.\n\nHence the hypothesis of evolution would be the only probable one, even in\nthe absence of any clue to the particular mode of evolution. But when we\nhave, propounded by a mathematician whose authority is second to none, a\ndefinite theory of this evolution based on established mechanical laws,\nwhich accounts for these various peculiarities, as well as for many minor\nones, the conclusion that the Solar System _was_ evolved becomes almost\nirresistible.\n\nThe general nature of Laplace's theory scarcely needs stating. Books of\npopular astronomy have familiarized most readers with his\nconceptions;--namely, that the matter now condensed into the Solar System,\nonce formed a vast rotating spheroid of extreme rarity extending beyond the\norbit of Neptune; that as this spheroid contracted, its rate of rotation\nnecessarily increased; that by augmenting centrifugal force its equatorial\nzone was from time to time prevented from following any further the\nconcentrating mass, and so remained behind as a revolving ring; that each\nof the revolving rings thus periodically detached, eventually became\nruptured at its weakest point, and contracting on itself, gradually\naggregated into a rotating mass; that this, like the parent mass, increased\nin rapidity of rotation as it decreased in size, and, where the centrifugal\nforce was sufficient, similarly threw off rings, which finally collapsed\ninto rotating spheroids; and that thus out of these primary and secondary\nrings there arose planets and their satellites, while from the central mass\nthere resulted the sun. Moreover, it is tolerably well known that this _a\npriori_ reasoning harmonizes with the results of experiment. Dr. Plateau\nhas shown that when a mass of fluid is, as far may be, protected from the\naction of external forces, it will, if made to rotate with adequate\nvelocity, form detached rings; and that these rings will break up into\nspheroids which turn on their axes in the same direction with the central\nmass. Thus, given the original nebula, which, acquiring a vortical motion\nin the way we have explained, has at length concentrated into a vast\nspheroid of aeriform matter moving round its axis--given this, and\nmechanical principles explain the rest. The genesis of a solar system\ndisplaying movements like those observed, may be predicted; and the\nreasoning on which the prediction is based is countenanced by\nexperiment.[L]\n\n  [L] It is true that, as expressed by him, these propositions of\n      Laplace are not all beyond dispute. An astronomer of the highest\n      authority, who has favoured me with some criticisms on this\n      essay, alleges that instead of a nebulous ring rupturing at one\n      point, and collapsing into a single mass, \"all probability would\n      be in favour of its breaking up into many masses.\" This\n      alternative result certainly seems to be more likely. But\n      granting that a nebulous ring would break up into many masses, it\n      may still be contended that, since the chances are infinity to\n      one against these being of equal sizes and equidistant, they\n      could not remain evenly distributed round their orbit: this\n      annular chain of gaseous masses would break up into groups of\n      masses; these groups would eventually aggregate into larger\n      groups; and the final result would be the formation of a single\n      mass. I have put the question to an astronomer scarcely second in\n      authority to the one above referred to, and he agrees that this\n      would probably be the process.\n\nBut now let us inquire whether, besides these most conspicuous\npeculiarities of the Solar System, sundry minor ones are not similarly\nexplicable. Take first the relation between the planes of the planetary\norbits and the plane of the sun's equator. If, when the nebulous spheroid\nextended beyond the orbit of Neptune, all parts of it had been revolving\nexactly in the same plane or rather in parallel planes--if all its parts\nhad had one axis; then the planes of the successive rings would have been\ncoincident with each other and with that of the sun's rotation. But it\nneeds only to go back to the earlier stages of concentration, to see that\nthere could exist no such complete uniformity of motion. The flocculi,\nalready described as precipitated from an irregular and widely-diffused\nnebula, and as starting from all points to their common centre of gravity,\nmust move not in one plane but in innumerable planes, cutting each other at\nall angles.\n\nThe gradual establishment of a vortical motion such as we saw must\neventually arise, and such as we at present see indicated in the spiral\nnebulae, is the gradual approach toward motion in one plane--the plane of\ngreatest momentum. But this plane can only slowly become decided. Flocculi\nnot moving in this plane, but entering into the aggregation at various\ninclinations, will tend to perform their revolutions round its centre in\ntheir own planes; and only in course of time will their motions be partly\ndestroyed by conflicting ones, and partly resolved into the general motion.\nEspecially will the outermost portions of the rotating mass retain for long\ntime their more or less independent directions; seeing that neither by\nfriction nor by the central forces will they be so much restrained. Hence\nthe probabilities are, that the planes of the rings first detached will\ndiffer considerably from the average plane of the mass; while the planes of\nthose detached latest will differ from it less. Here, again, inference to a\nconsiderable extent agrees with observation. Though the progression is\nirregular, yet on the average the inclinations decrease on approaching the\nsun.\n\nConsider next the movements of the planets on their axes. Laplace alleged\nas one among other evidences of a common genetic cause, that the planets\nrotate in a direction the same as that in which they go round the sun, and\non axes approximately perpendicular to their orbits. Since he wrote, an\nexception to this general rule has been discovered in the case of Uranus,\nand another still more recently in the case of Neptune--judging, at least,\nfrom the motions of their respective satellites. This anomaly has been\nthought to throw considerable doubt on his speculation; and at first sight\nit does so. But a little reflection will, we believe, show that the anomaly\nis by no means an insoluble one; and that Laplace simply went too far in\nputting down as a certain result of nebular genesis, what is, in some\ninstances, only a probable result. The cause he pointed out as determining\nthe direction of rotation, is the greater absolute velocity of the outer\npart of the detached ring. But there are conditions under which this\ndifference of velocity may be relatively insignificant, even if it exists:\nand others in which, though existing to a considerable extent, it will not\nsuffice to determine the direction of rotation.\n\nNote, in the first place, that in virtue of their origin, the different\nstrata of a concentrating nebulous spheroid, will be very unlikely to move\nwith equal angular velocities: only by friction continued for an indefinite\ntime will their angular velocities be made uniform; and especially will the\noutermost strata, for reasons just now assigned, maintain for the longest\ntime their differences of movement. Hence, it is possible that in the rings\nfirst detached the outer rims may not have greater absolute velocities; and\nthus the resulting planets may have retrograde rotations. Again, the\nsectional form of the ring is a circumstance of moment; and this form must\nhave differed more or less in every case. To make this clear, some\nillustration will be necessary. Suppose we take an orange, and assuming the\nmarks of the stalk and the calyx to represent the poles, cut off round the\nline of the equator a strip of peel. This strip of peel, if placed on the\ntable with its ends meeting, will make a ring shaped like the hoop of a\nbarrel--a ring whose thickness in the line of its diameter is very small,\nbut whose width in a direction perpendicular to its diameter is\nconsiderable. Suppose, now, that in place of an orange, which is a spheroid\nof very slight oblateness, we take a spheroid of very great oblateness,\nshaped somewhat like a lens of small convexity. If from the edge or equator\nof this lens-shaped spheroid, a ring of moderate size were cut off, it\nwould be unlike the previous ring in this respect, that its greatest\nthickness would be in the line of its diameter, and not in a line at right\nangles to its diameter: it would be a ring shaped somewhat like a quoit,\nonly far more slender. That is to say, according to the oblateness of a\nrotating spheroid, the detached ring may be either a hoop-shaped ring or a\nquoit-shaped ring.\n\nOne further fact must be noted. In a much-flattened or lens-shaped\nspheroid, the form of the ring will vary with its bulk. A very slender\nring, taking off just the equatorial surface, will be hoop-shaped; while a\ntolerably massive ring, trenching appreciably on the diameter of the\nspheroid, will be quoit-shaped. Thus, then, according to the oblateness of\nthe spheroid and the bulkiness of the detached ring, will the greatest\nthickness of that ring be in the direction of its plane, or in a direction\nperpendicular to its plane. But this circumstance must greatly affect the\nrotation of the resulting planet. In a decidedly hoop-shaped nebulous ring,\nthe differences of velocity between the inner and outer surfaces will be\nvery small; and such a ring, aggregating into a mass whose greatest\ndiameter is at right angles to the plane of the orbit, will almost\ncertainly give to this mass a predominant tendency to rotate in a direction\nat right angles to the plane of the orbit. Where the ring is but little\nhoop-shaped, and the difference of the inner and outer velocities also\ngreater, as it must be, the opposing tendencies--one to produce rotation in\nthe plane of the orbit, and the other rotation perpendicular to it--will\nboth be influential; and an intermediate plane of rotation will be taken\nup. While, if the nebulous ring is decidedly quoit-shaped, and therefore\naggregates into a mass whose greatest dimension lies in the plane of the\norbit, both tendencies will conspire to produce rotation in that plane.\n\nOn referring to the facts, we find them, as far as can be judged, in\nharmony with this view. Considering the enormous circumference of Uranus's\norbit, and his comparatively small mass, we may conclude that the ring from\nwhich he resulted was a comparatively slender, and therefore a hoop-shaped\none: especially if the nebulous mass was at that time less oblate than\nafterwards, which it must have been. Hence, a plane of rotation nearly\nperpendicular to his orbit, and a direction of rotation having no reference\nto his orbitual movement. Saturn has a mass seven times as great, and an\norbit of less than half the diameter; whence it follows that his genetic\nring, having less than half the circumference, and less than half the\nvertical thickness (the spheroid being then certainly _as_ oblate, and\nindeed _more_ oblate), must have had considerably greater width--must have\nbeen less hoop-shaped, and more approaching to the quoit-shaped:\nnotwithstanding difference of density, it must have been at least two or\nthree times as broad in the line of its plane. Consequently, Saturn has a\nrotatory movement in the same direction as the movement of translation, and\nin a plane differing from it by thirty degrees only.\n\nIn the case of Jupiter, again, whose mass is three and a half times that of\nSaturn, and whose orbit is little more than half the size, the genetic ring\nmust, for the like reasons, have been still broader--decidedly\nquoit-shaped, we may say; and there hence resulted a planet whose plane of\nrotation differs from that of his orbit by scarcely more than three\ndegrees. Once more, considering the comparative insignificance of Mars,\nEarth, Venus, and Mercury, it follows that the diminishing circumferences\nof the rings not sufficing to account for the smallness of the resulting\nmasses, the rings must have been slender ones--must have again approximated\nto the hoop-shaped; and thus it happens that the planes of rotation again\ndiverge more or less widely from those of the orbits. Taking into account\nthe increasing oblateness of the original spheroid in the successive stages\nof its concentration, and the different proportions of the detached rings,\nit seems to us that the respective rotatory motions are not at variance\nwith the hypothesis.\n\nNot only the directions, but also the velocities of rotation are thus\nexplicable. It might naturally be supposed that the large planets would\nrevolve on their axes more slowly than the small ones: our terrestrial\nexperiences incline us to expect this. It is a corollary from the Nebular\nHypothesis, however, more especially when interpreted as above, that while\nlarge planets will rotate rapidly, small ones will rotate slowly; and we\nfind that in fact they do so. Other things equal, a concentrating nebulous\nmass that is diffused through a wide space, and whose outer parts have,\ntherefore, to travel from great distances to the common centre of gravity,\nwill acquire a high axial velocity in course of its aggregation: and\nconversely with a small mass. Still more marked will be the difference\nwhere the form of the genetic ring conspires to increase the rate of\nrotation. Other things equal, a genetic ring that is broadest in the\ndirection of its plane will produce a mass rotating faster than one that is\nbroadest at right angles to its plane; and if the ring is absolutely as\nwell as relatively broad, the rotation will be very rapid. These conditions\nwere, as we saw, fulfilled in the case of Jupiter; and Jupiter goes round\nhis axis in less than ten hours. Saturn, in whose case, as above explained,\nthe conditions were less favourable to rapid rotation, takes ten hours and\na half. While Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury, whose rings must have been\nslender, take more than double the time: the smallest taking the longest.\n\nFrom the planets, let us now pass to the satellites. Here, beyond the\nconspicuous facts commonly adverted to, that they go round their primaries\nin the same directions that these turn on their axes, in planes diverging\nbut little from their equators, and in orbits nearly circular, there are\nseveral significant traits which must not be passed over.\n\nOne of them is, that each set of satellites repeats in miniature the\nrelations of the planets to the sun, both in the respects just named, and\nin the order of the sizes. On progressing from the outside of the Solar\nSystem to its centre, we see that there are four large external planets,\nand four internal ones which are comparatively small. A like contrast holds\nbetween the outer and inner satellites in every case. Among the four\nsatellites of Jupiter, the parallel is maintained as well as the\ncomparative smallness of the number allows: the two outer ones are the\nlargest, and the two inner ones the smallest. According to the most recent\nobservations made by Mr. Lassell, the like is true of the four satellites\nof Uranus. In the case of Saturn, who has eight secondary planets revolving\nround him, the likeness is still more close in arrangement as in number:\nthe three outer satellites are large, the inner ones small; and the\ncontrasts of size are here much greater between the largest, which is\nnearly as big as Mars, and the smallest, which is with difficulty\ndiscovered even by the best telescopes.\n\nMoreover, the analogy does not end here. Just as with the planets, there is\nat first a general increase of size on travelling inwards from Neptune and\nUranus, which do not differ very widely, to Saturn, which is much larger,\nand to Jupiter, which is the largest; so of the eight satellites of Saturn,\nthe largest is not the outermost, but the outermost save two; so of\nJupiter's four secondaries, the largest is the most remote but one. Now\nthese analogies are inexplicable by the theory of final causes. For\npurposes of lighting, if this be the presumed object of these attendant\nbodies, it would have been far better had the larger been the nearer: at\npresent, their remoteness renders them of less service than the smallest.\nTo the Nebular Hypothesis, however, these analogies give further support.\nThey show the action of a common physical cause. They imply a _law_ of\ngenesis, holding in the secondary systems as in the primary system.\n\nStill more instructive shall we find the distribution of the\nsatellites--their absence in some instances, and their presence in other\ninstances, in smaller or greater numbers. The argument from design fails to\naccount for this distribution. Supposing it be granted that planets nearer\nthe Sun than ourselves, have no need of moons (though, considering that\ntheir nights are as dark, and, relatively to their brilliant days, even\ndarker than ours, the need seems quite as great)--supposing this to be\ngranted; what is to be said of Mars, which, placed half as far again from\nthe Sun as we are, has yet no moon? Or again, how are we to explain the\nfact that Uranus has but half as many moons as Saturn, though he is at\ndouble the distance? While, however, the current presumption is untenable,\nthe Nebular Hypothesis furnishes us with an explanation. It actually\nenables us to predict, by a not very complex calculation, where satellites\nwill be abundant and where they will be absent. The reasoning is as\nfollows.\n\nIn a rotating nebulous spheroid that is concentrating into a planet, there\nare at work two antagonist mechanical tendencies--the centripetal and the\ncentrifugal. While the force of gravitation draws all the atoms of the\nspheroid together, their tangential momentum is resolvable into two parts,\nof which one resists gravitation. The ratio which this centrifugal force\nbears to gravitation, varies, other things equal, as the square of the\nvelocity. Hence, the aggregation of a rotating nebulous spheroid will be\nmore or less strongly opposed by this outward impetus of its particles,\naccording as its rate of rotation is high or low: the opposition, in equal\nspheroids, being four times as great when the rotation is twice as rapid;\nnine times as great when it is three times as rapid; and so on. Now, the\ndetachment of a ring from a planet-forming body of nebulous matter, implies\nthat at its equatorial zone the centrifugal force produced by concentration\nhas become so great as to balance gravity. Whence it is tolerably obvious\nthat the detachment of rings will be most frequent from those masses in\nwhich the centrifugal tendency bears the greatest ratio to the gravitative\ntendency. Though it is not possible to calculate what proportions these two\ntendencies had to each other in the genetic spheroid which produced each\nplanet; it is possible to calculate where each was the greatest and where\nthe least. While it is true that the ratio which centrifugal force now\nbears to gravity at the equator of each planet, differs widely from that\nwhich it bore during the earlier stages of concentration; and while it is\ntrue that this change in the ratio, depending on the degree of contraction\neach planet has undergone, has in no two cases been the same; yet we may\nfairly conclude that where the ratio is still the greatest, it has been the\ngreatest from the beginning. The satellite-forming tendency which each\nplanet had, will be approximately indicated by the proportion now existing\nin it between the aggregating power, and the power that has opposed\naggregation. On making the requisite calculations, a remarkable harmony\nwith this inference comes out. The following table shows what fraction the\ncentrifugal force is of the centripetal force in every case; and the\nrelation which that fraction bears to the number of satellites.\n\n  Mercury. Venus.    Earth.    Mars.    Jupiter.     Saturn.     Uranus.\n\n     1        1        1         1          1           1           1\n    ---      ---      ---       ---        ---         ---         ---\n    362      282      289       326        14          6.2          9\n\n                       1                    4           8       4 (or 6\n                   Satellite.          Satellites.  Satellites  according\n                                                    and three   to\n                                                    rings.      Herschel.)\n\nThus, taking as our standard of comparison the Earth with its one moon, we\nsee that Mercury and Mars, in which the centrifugal force is relatively\nless, have no moons. Jupiter, in which it is far greater, has four moons.\nUranus, in which it is greater still, has certainly four, and probably more\nthan four. Saturn, in which it is the greatest, being nearly one-sixth of\ngravity, has, including his rings, eleven attendants. The only instance in\nwhich there is imperfect conformity with observation is that of Venus. Here\nit appears that the centrifugal force is relatively a very little greater\nthan in the Earth; and according to the hypothesis, Venus ought, therefore,\nto have a satellite. Of this seeming anomaly there are two explanations.\nNot a few astronomers have asserted that Venus _has_ a satellite. Cassini,\nShort, Montaigne of Limoges, Roedkier, and Montbarron, professed to have\nseen it; and Lambert calculated its elements. Granting, however, that they\nwere mistaken, there is still the fact that the diameter of Venus is\nvariously estimated; and that a very small change in the data would make\nthe fraction less instead of greater than that of the Earth. But admitting\nthe discrepancy, we think that this correspondence, even as it now stands,\nis one of the strongest confirmations of the Nebular Hypothesis.[M]\n\n  [M] Since this essay was published, the data of the above\n      calculations have been changed by the discovery that the Sun's\n      distance is three millions of miles less than was supposed. Hence\n      results a diminution in his estimated mass, and in the masses of\n      the planets (except the Earth and Moon). No revised estimate of\n      the masses having yet been published, the table is re-printed in\n      its original form. The diminution of the masses to the alleged\n      extent of about one-tenth, does not essentially alter the\n      relations above pointed out.\n\nCertain more special peculiarities of the satellites must be mentioned as\nsuggestive. One of them is the relation between the period of revolution\nand that of rotation. No discoverable purpose is served by making the Moon\ngo round its axis in the same time that it goes round the Earth: for our\nconvenience, a more rapid axial motion would have been equally good; and\nfor any possible inhabitants of the Moon, much better. Against the\nalternative supposition, that the equality occurred by accident, the\nprobabilities are, as Laplace says, infinity to one. But to this\narrangement, which is explicable neither as the result of design nor of\nchance, the Nebular Hypothesis furnishes a clue. In his \"Exposition du\nSysteme du Monde,\" Laplace shows, by reasoning too detailed to be here\nrepeated, that under the circumstances such a relation of movements would\nbe likely to establish itself.\n\nAmong Jupiter's satellites, which severally display these same synchronous\nmovements, there also exists a still more remarkable relation. \"If the mean\nangular velocity of the first satellite be added to twice that of the\nthird, the sum will be equal to three times that of the second;\" and \"from\nthis it results that the situations of any two of them being given, that of\nthe third can be found.\" Now here, as before, no conceivable advantage\nresults. Neither in this case can the connexion have been accidental: the\nprobabilities are infinity to one to the contrary. But again, according to\nLaplace, the Nebular Hypothesis supplies a solution. Are not these\nsignificant facts?\n\nMost significant fact of all, however, is that presented by the rings of\nSaturn. As Laplace remarks, they are, as it were, still extant witnesses of\nthe genetic process he propounded. Here we have, continuing permanently,\nforms of matter like those through which each planet and satellite once\npassed; and their movements are just what, in conformity with the\nhypothesis, they should be. \"La duree de la rotation d'une planete doit\ndonc etre, d'apres cette hypothese, plus petite que la duree de la\nrevolution du corps le plus voisin qui circule autour d'elle,\" says\nLaplace.[N] And he then points out that the time of Saturn's rotation is to\nthat of his rings as 427 to 438--an amount of difference such as was to be\nexpected.\n\n  [N] \"Mecanique Celeste,\" p. 346.\n\nBut besides the existence of these rings, and their movements in the\nrequired manner, there is a highly suggestive circumstance which Laplace\nhas not remarked--namely, the place of their occurrence. If the Solar\nSystem was produced after the manner popularly supposed, then there is no\nreason why the rings of Saturn should not have encircled him at a\ncomparatively great distance. Or, instead of being given to Saturn, who in\ntheir absence would still have had eight satellites, such rings might have\nbeen given to Mars, by way of compensation for a moon. Or they might have\nbeen given to Uranus, who, for purposes of illumination, has far greater\nneed of them. On the common hypothesis, we repeat, no reason can be\nassigned for their existence in the place where we find them. But on the\nhypothesis of evolution, the arrangement, so far from offering a\ndifficulty, offers another confirmation. These rings are found where alone\nthey could have been produced--close to the body of a planet whose\ncentrifugal force bears a great proportion to his gravitative force. That\npermanent rings should exist at any great distance from a planet's body,\nis, on the Nebular Hypothesis, manifestly impossible. Rings detached early\nin the process of concentration, and therefore consisting of gaseous matter\nhaving extremely little power of cohesion, can have no ability to resist\nthe disrupting forces due to imperfect balance; and must, therefore,\ncollapse into satellites. A liquid ring is the only one admitting of\npermanence. But a liquid ring can be produced only when the aggregation is\napproaching its extreme--only when gaseous matter is passing into liquid,\nand the mass is about to assume the planetary form. And even then it cannot\nbe produced save under special conditions. Gaining a rapidly-increasing\npreponderance, as the gravitative force does during the closing stages of\nconcentration, the centrifugal force cannot in ordinary cases cause the\ndetachment of rings when the mass has become dense. Only where the\ncentrifugal force has all along been very great, and remains powerful to\nthe last, as in Saturn, can liquid rings be formed. Thus the Nebular\nHypothesis shows us why such appendages surround Saturn, but exist nowhere\nelse.\n\nAnd then, let us not forget the fact, discovered within these few years,\nthat Saturn possesses a _nebulous_ ring, through which his body is seen as\nthrough a thick veil. In a position where alone such a thing seems\npreservable--suspended, as it were, between the denser rings and the\nplanet--there still continues one of these annular masses of diffused\nmatter from which satellites and planets are believed to have originated.\n\nWe find, then, that besides those most conspicuous peculiarities of the\nSolar System, which first suggested the theory of its evolution, there are\nmany minor ones pointing in the same direction. Were there no other\nevidence, these mechanical arrangements would, considered in their\ntotality, go far to establish the Nebular Hypothesis.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFrom the mechanical arrangements of the Solar System, turn we now to its\nphysical characters; and, first, let us consider the inferences deducible\nfrom relative specific gravities.\n\nThe fact that, speaking generally, the denser planets are the nearer to the\nSun, is by some considered as adding another to the many indications of\nnebular origin. Legitimately assuming that the outermost parts of a\nrotating nebulous spheroid, in its earlier stages of concentration, will be\ncomparatively rare; and that the increasing density which the whole mass\nacquires as it contracts, must hold of the outermost parts as well as the\nrest; it is argued that the rings successively detached will be more and\nmore dense, and will form planets of higher and higher specific gravities.\nBut passing over other objections, this explanation is quite inadequate to\naccount for the facts. Using the Earth as a standard of comparison, the\nrelative densities run thus:--\n\n  Neptune.  Uranus.  Saturn. Jupiter.  Mars. Earth.  Venus. Mercury.  Sun.\n    0.14     0.24     0.14     0.24    0.95   1.00    0.92    1.12    0.25\n\nTwo seemingly insurmountable objections are presented by this series. The\nfirst is, that the progression is but a broken one. Neptune is as dense as\nSaturn, which, by the hypothesis, it ought not to be. Uranus is as dense as\nJupiter, which it ought not to be. Uranus is denser than Saturn, and the\nEarth is denser than Venus--facts which not only give no countenance to,\nbut directly contradict, the alleged explanation. The second objection,\nstill more manifestly fatal, is the low specific gravity of the Sun. If,\nwhen the matter of the Sun filled the orbit of Mercury, its state of\naggregation was such that the detached ring formed a planet having a\nspecific gravity equal to that of iron; then the Sun itself, now that it\nhas concentrated, should have a specific gravity much greater than that of\niron; whereas its specific gravity is not much above that of water. Instead\nof being far denser than the nearest planet, it is not one-fourth as dense.\nAnd a parallel relation holds between Jupiter and his smallest\nsatellite.[O]\n\n  [O] The impending revision of the estimated masses of the planets,\n      entailed by the discovery that the Sun's distance is less than\n      was supposed, will alter these specific gravities. It will make\n      most of the contrasts still stronger.\n\nWhile these anomalies render untenable the position that the relative\nspecific gravities of the planets are direct indications of nebular\ncondensation; it by no means follows that they negative it. On the\ncontrary, we believe that the facts admit of an interpretation quite\nconsistent with the hypothesis of Laplace.\n\nThere are three possible causes of unlike specific gravities in the members\nof our Solar System:--1. Differences between the kinds of matter or matters\ncomposing them. 2. Differences between the quantities of matter; for, other\nthings equal, the mutual gravitation of atoms will make a large mass denser\nthan a small one. 3. Differences between the structures: the masses being\neither solid or liquid throughout, or having central cavities filled with\nelastic aeriform substance. Of these three conceivable causes, that\ncommonly assigned is the first, more or less modified by the second. The\nextremely low specific gravity of Saturn, which but little exceeds that of\ncork (and, on this hypothesis, must at his surface be considerably less\nthan that of cork) is supposed to arise from the intrinsic lightness of his\nsubstance. That the Sun weighs not much more than an equal bulk of water,\nis taken as evidence that the matter he consists of is but little heavier\nthan water; although, considering his enormous gravitative force, which at\nhis surface is twenty-eight times the gravitative force at the surface of\nthe Earth, and considering his enormous mass, which is 390,000 times that\nof the Earth, the matter he is made of can, in such case, have no analogy\nto the liquids or solids we know. However, spite of these difficulties, the\ncurrent hypothesis is, that the Sun and planets, inclusive of the Earth,\nare either solid or liquid, or have solid crusts with liquid nuclei: their\nunlike specific gravities resulting from unlikenesses of substance. And\nindeed, at first sight, this would seem to be the only tenable supposition;\nseeing that, unless prevented by some immense resisting force, gravitation\nmust obliterate any internal cavity by collapsing the surrounding liquid or\nsolid matter.\n\nNevertheless, that the Earth, in common with other members of the Solar\nSystem, is solid, or else consists of a solid shell having a cavity\nentirely filled with molten matter, is not an established fact: it is\nnothing but a supposition. We must not let its familiarity and apparent\nfeasibility delude us into an uncritical acceptance of it. If we find an\nalternative supposition which, physically considered, is equally possible,\nwe are bound to consider it. And if it not only avoids the difficulties\nabove pointed out, but many others hereafter to be mentioned, we must give\nit the preference.\n\nBefore proceeding to consider what the Nebular Hypothesis indicates\nrespecting the internal structures of the Sun and planets, we may state\nthat our reasonings, though of a kind not admitting of direct verification,\nare nothing more than deductions from the established principles of\nphysics. We have submitted them to an authority not inferior to any that\ncan be named; and while unprepared to commit himself to them, he yet sees\nnothing to object.\n\nStarting, then, with a rotating spheroid of aeriform matter, in the later\nstages of its concentration, but before it has begun to take a liquid or\nsolid form, let us inquire what must be the actions going on in it. Mutual\ngravitation continually aggregates its atoms into a smaller and denser\nmass; and the aggregating force goes on increasing, as the common centre of\ngravity is approached. An obstacle to concentration, however, exists in the\ncentrifugal force, which at this stage bears a far higher ratio to gravity\nthan afterwards, and in a gaseous spheroid must produce a very oblate form.\nAt the same time, the approximation of the atoms is resisted by a force\nwhich, in being overcome, is evolved as heat. This heat must be greatest\nwhere the atoms are subject to the highest pressure--namely, about the\ncentral parts. And as fast as it escapes into space, further approximation\nand further generation of heat must take place. But in a gaseous spheroid,\nhaving internal parts hotter than its external parts, there must be some\ncirculation. The currents must set from the hottest region to the coolest\nby some particular route; and from the coolest to the hottest by some other\nroute. In a very oblate spheroid, the coolest region must be that about the\nequator: the surface there bearing so large a ratio to the mass. Hence\nthere will be currents from the centre to the equator, and others from the\nequator to the centre. What will be the special courses of these currents?\nSupposing an original state of rest, about to pass into motion in obedience\nto the disturbing forces, the currents commencing at the centre will follow\nthe lines of most rapidly-decreasing density; seeing that the inertia will\nbe least in those lines. That is to say, there will be a current from the\ncentre towards each pole, along the axis of rotation; and the space thus\ncontinually left vacant will be filled by the collapse of matter coming in\nat right angles to the axis. The process cannot end here, however. If there\nare constant currents from the centre towards the poles, there must be a\nconstant accumulation at the poles; the spheroid will be ever becoming more\nprotuberant about the poles than the conditions of mechanical equilibrium\npermit. If, however, the mass at the poles is thus ever in excess, it must,\nby the forces acting on it, be constantly moved over the outer surface of\nthe spheroid from the poles towards the equator: thus only can that form\nwhich rotation necessitates be maintained. And a further result of this\ntransfer of matter from the centre, by way of the poles, to the equator,\nmust be the establishment of counter-currents from the equator in\ndiametrical lines, to the centre.\n\nMark now the changes of temperature that must occur in these currents. An\naeriform mass ascending from the centre towards either pole, will expand as\nit approaches the surface, in consequence of the diminution of pressure.\nBut expansion, involving an absorption of heat, will entail a diminished\ntemperature; and the temperature will be further lowered by the greater\nfreedom of radiation into space. This rarefied and cooled mass must be\nstill more rarefied and cooled in its progress over the surface of the\nspheroid to the equator. Continually thrust further from the pole by the\nceaseless accumulation there, it must acquire an ever-increasing rotatory\nmotion and an ever-increasing centrifugal force: whence must follow\nexpansion and absorption of heat. To the refrigeration thus caused must be\nadded that resulting from radiation, which, at each advance towards the\nequator, will be less hindered. And when the mass we have thus followed\narrives at the equator, it will have reached its maximum rarity and maximum\ncoolness. Conversely, every portion of a current proceeding in a\ndiametrical direction from the equator to the centre, must progressively\nrise in temperature; in virtue alike of the increasing pressure, the\ngradual arrest of motion, and the diminished rate of radiation. Note,\nlastly, that this circulation will go on, but slowly. As the matter\nproceeding from the equator towards the centre must have its rotatory\nmotion destroyed, while that proceeding from the poles to the equator must\nhave rotatory motion given to it, it follows that an enormous amount of\ninertia has to be overcome; and this must make the currents so slow as to\nprevent them from producing anything like an equality of temperature.\n\nSuch being the constitution of a concentrating spheroid of gaseous matter,\nwhere will the gaseous matter begin to condense into liquid? The usual\nassumption has been, that in a nebulous mass approaching towards the\nplanetary form, the liquefaction will first occur at the centre. We believe\nthis assumption is inconsistent with established physical principles.\n\nObserve first that it is contrary to analogy. That the matter of the Earth\nwas liquid before any of it became solid, is generally admitted. Where has\nit first solidified? Not at the centre, but at the surface. Now the general\nprinciples which apply to the condensation of liquid matter into solid,\napply also to the condensation of gaseous matter into liquid. Hence if the\nonce liquid substance of the Earth first solidified at the surface, the\nimplication is that its once aeriform substance first liquified at the\nsurface.\n\nBut we have no need to rest in analogy. On considering what must happen in\na rotating gaseous spheroid having currents moving as above described, we\nshall see that external condensation is a corollary. A nebulous mass, when\nit has arrived at this stage, will consist of an aeriform mixture of\nvarious matters; the heavier and more condensible matters being contained\nin the rarer or less condensible, in the same way that water is contained\nin air. And the inference must be, that at a certain stage, some of these\ndenser matters will be precipitated in the shape of a cloud.[P]\n\n  [P] The reader will perhaps say that this process is the one\n      described as having taken place early in the history of nebular\n      evolution; and this is true. But the same actions will be\n      repeated in media of different densities.\n\nNow, what are the laws of precipitation from gases? If a gas through which\nsome other substance is diffused in a gaseous state, expands in consequence\nof the removal of pressure, it will, when the rarefaction and consequent\ncooling reach a certain point, begin to let fall the suspended substance.\nConversely, if, a gas, saturated even with some substance, is subject to\nincreased pressure, and is allowed to retain the additional heat which that\npressure generates; so far from letting fall what it contains, it will gain\nthe power to take up more. See then, the inference respecting condensation\nin a nebulous spheroid. The currents proceeding from the equator to the\ncentre, subject to increasing pressure, and acquiring the heat due both to\nthis increasing pressure and to arrested motion, will have no tendency to\ndeposit their suspended substances, but rather the reverse: a formation of\nliquid matter at the centre of the mass will be impossible. Contrariwise,\nthe gaseous currents moving from the centre to the poles and thence to the\nequator, expanding as they go, first from diminished pressure and\nafterwards from increased centrifugal force; and losing heat, not only by\nexpansion, but by more rapid radiation; will have less and less power to\nretain the matter diffused through them. The earliest precipitation will\ntake place in the region of extremest rarefaction; namely, about the\nequator. An equatorial belt of cloud will be first formed, and widened into\na zone, will by-and-by begin to condense into liquid.[Q] Gradually this\nliquid film will extend itself on each side the equator, and encroaching on\nthe two hemispheres, will eventually close over at the poles: thus\nproducing a thin hollow globe, or rather spheroid, filled with gaseous\nmatter. We do not mean that this condensation will take place at the very\noutermost surface; for probably, round the denser gases forming the\nprincipal mass, there will extend strata of gases too rare and too cool to\nbe entangled in these processes. It is the surface of this inner spheroid\nof denser gases to which our reasoning points as the place of earliest\ncondensation.\n\n  [Q] The formation of Saturn's rings is thus rendered comprehensible.\n\nThe internal circulation we have described, continuing, as it must, after\nthe formation of this liquid film, there will still go on the radiation of\nheat, and the progressive aggregation. The film will thicken at the expense\nof the internal gaseous substances precipitated on it. As it thickens, as\nthe globe contracts, and as the gravitative force augments, the pressure\nwill increase; and the evolution and radiation of heat will go on more\nrapidly. Eventually, however, when the liquid shell becomes very thick, and\nthe internal cavity relatively small, the obstacle put to the escape of\nheat by this thick liquid shell, with its slowly-circulating currents, will\nturn the scale: the temperature of the outer surface will begin to\ndiminish, and a solid crust will form while the internal cavity is yet\nunobliterated.\n\n\"But what,\" it may be asked, \"will become of this gaseous nucleus when\nexposed to the enormous gravitative pressure of a shell some thousands of\nmiles thick? How can aeriform matter withstand such a pressure?\" Very\nreadily. It has been proved that even when the heat generated by\ncompression is allowed to escape, some gases remain uncondensible by any\nforce we can produce. An unsuccessful attempt lately made at Vienna to\nliquify oxygen, clearly shows this enormous resistance. The steel piston\nemployed was literally shortened by the pressure used: and yet the gas\nremained unliquified! If, then, the expansive force is thus immense when\nthe heat evolved is dissipated, what must it be when that heat is in great\nmeasure detained; as in the case we are considering? Indeed, the\nexperiments of M. Cagniard de Latour have shown that gases may, under\npressure, acquire the density of liquids while retaining the aeriform\nstate; provided the temperature continues extremely high. In such a case,\nevery addition to the heat is an addition to the repulsive power of the\natoms: the increased pressure itself generates an increased ability to\nresist; and this remains true to whatever extent the compression is\ncarried. Indeed, it is a corollary from the persistence of force, that if,\nunder increasing pressure, a gas retains all the heat evolved, its\nresisting force is _absolutely unlimited_. Hence, the internal planetary\nstructure we have described, is as physically stable a one as that commonly\nassumed.\n\nAnd now let us see how this hypothesis tallies with the facts. One\ninference from it must be, that large masses will progress towards final\nconsolidation more slowly than small masses. Though a large concentrating\nspheroid will, from its superior aggregative force, generate heat more\nrapidly than a small one; yet, having, relatively to its surface, a much\ngreater quantity of heat to get rid of, it will be longer than a small one\nin going through the changes we have described. Consequently, at a time\nwhen the smaller members of our Solar System have arrived at so advanced a\nstage of aggregation as almost to have obliterated their central cavities,\nand so reached high specific gravities; the larger members will still be at\nthat stage in which the central cavities bear great ratios to the\nsurrounding shells, and will therefore have low specific gravities. This\ncontrast is just what we find. The small planets Mercury, Venus, the Earth,\nand Mars, differing from each other comparatively little in density as in\nsize, are about four times as dense as Jupiter and Uranus, and seven times\nas dense as Saturn and Neptune--planets exceeding them in size as oranges\nexceed peas; and they are four times as dense as the Sun, which in mass is\nnearly 5,000,000 times greater than the smallest of them.\n\nThe obvious objection that this hypothesis does not explain the minor\ndifferences, serves but to introduce a further confirmation. It may be\nurged that Jupiter is of greater specific gravity than Saturn, though,\nconsidering his superior mass, his specific gravity should be less; and\nthat still more anomalous is the case of the Sun, which, though containing\na thousand times the matter that Jupiter does, is nearly of the same\nspecific gravity. The solution of these difficulties lies in the modifying\neffects of centrifugal force. Had the various masses to be compared been\nall along in a state of rest, then the larger should have been uniformly\nthe less dense. But during the concentrating process they have been\nrotating with various velocities. The consequent centrifugal force has in\neach case been in antagonism with gravitation; and, according to its\namount, has hindered the concentration to a greater or less degree. The\nefficient aggregative force has in each case been the excess of the\ncentripetal tendency over the centrifugal. Whence we may infer that\nwherever this excess has been the least, the consolidation must have been\nthe most hindered, and the specific gravity will be the smallest. This,\ntoo, we find to be the fact. Saturn, at whose equator the centrifugal force\nis even now almost one-sixth of gravity, and who, by his numerous\nsatellites, shows us how strong an antagonist to concentration it was in\nearlier stages of his evolution, is little more than half as dense as\nJupiter, whose concentration has been hindered by a centrifugal force\nbearing a much smaller ratio to the centripetal.\n\nOn the other hand, the Sun, whose latter stages of aggregation have met\nwith comparatively little of this opposition, and whose atoms tend towards\ntheir common centre with a force ten times as great as that which Jupiter's\natoms are subject to, has, notwithstanding his immense bulk, reached a\nspecific gravity as great as that of Jupiter; and he has done this partly\nfor the reason assigned, and partly because the process of consolidation\nhas been, and still is, actively going on, while that of Jupiter has long\nsince almost ceased.\n\nBefore pointing out further harmonies let us meet an objection. Laplace,\ntaking for data Jupiter's mass, diameter, and rate of rotation, calculated\nthe degrees of compression at the poles which his centrifugal force should\nproduce, supposing his substance to be homogeneous; and finding that the\ncalculated amount of oblateness was greater than the actual amount,\ninferred that his substance must be denser towards the centre. The\ninference seems unavoidable; is diametrically opposed to the hypothesis of\na shell of denser matter with a gaseous nucleus; and we confess that on\nfirst meeting with this fact we were inclined to think it fatal. But there\nis a consideration, apt to be overlooked, which completely disposes of it.\nA compressed elastic medium tends ever with great energy to give a\nspherical figure to the chamber in which it is confined. This truth is\nalike mathematically demonstrable, and recognized in practice by every\nengineer. In the case before us, the expansive power of the gaseous nucleus\nis such as to balance the gravitation of the shell of the planet; and this\npower perpetually strives to make the planet a perfect sphere. Thus the\ntendency of the centrifugal force to produce oblateness, is opposed not\nonly by the force of gravity but by another force of great intensity; and\nhence the degree of oblateness produced is relatively small.\n\nThis difficulty being as we think, satisfactorily met, we go on to name\nsome highly significant facts giving indirect support to our hypothesis.\nAnd first with respect to the asteroids, or planetoids, as they are\notherwise called. Now that these have proved to be so numerous--now that it\nhas become probable that beyond some sixty already discovered there are\nmany more--the supposition of Olbers, that they are the fragments of an\nexploded planet which once occupied the vacant region they fill, has gained\nincreased probability. The alternative supposition of Laplace, that they\nare the products of a nebulous ring which separated into many fragments\ninstead of collapsing into a single mass, seems inconsistent with the\nextremely various, and in some cases extremely great, inclinations of their\norbits; as well as with their similarly various and great eccentricities.\nFor these the theory of Olbers completely accounts--indeed, it necessarily\ninvolves them; while at the same time it affords us a feasible explanation\nof meteors, and especially the periodic swarms of them, which would else be\ninexplicable. The fact, inferred from the present derangement of their\norbits, that if the planetoids once formed parts of one mass, it must have\nexploded myriads of years ago, is no difficulty, but rather the reverse.\n\nTaking Olbers' supposition, then, as the most tenable one, let us ask how\nsuch an explosion could have occurred. If planets are internally\nconstituted as is commonly assumed, no conceivable cause of it can be\nnamed. A solid mass may crack and fall to pieces, but it cannot violently\nexplode. So, too, with a liquid mass covered by a crust. Though, if\ncontained in an unyielding shell and artificially raised to a very high\ntemperature, a liquid might so expand as to burst the shell and\nsimultaneously flash into vapour; yet, if contained in a yielding crust,\nlike that of a planet, it would not do so: it would crack the crust and\ngive off its expansive force gradually. But the planetary structure above\nsupposed, supplies us with all the requisite conditions to an explosion,\nand an adequate cause for it. We have in the interior of the mass, a cavity\nserving as a sufficient reservoir of force. We have this cavity filled with\ngaseous matters of high tension. We have in the chemical affinities of\nthese matters a source of enormous expansive power--power capable of being\nquite suddenly liberated. And we have in the increasing heat of the shell,\nconsequent on progressing concentration, a cause of such instantaneous\nchemical change and the resulting explosion. The explanation thus supplied,\nof an event which there can be little doubt has occurred, and which is not\notherwise accounted for, adds to the probability of the hypothesis.\n\nOne further evidence, and that not the least important, is deducible from\ngeology. From the known rate at which the temperature rises as we pierce\ndeeper into the substance of the Earth, it has been inferred that its solid\ncrust is some forty miles thick. And if this be its thickness, we have a\nfeasible explanation of volcanic phenomena, as well as of elevations and\nsubsidences. But proceeding on the current supposition that the Earth's\ninterior is wholly filled with molten matter, Prof. Hopkins has calculated\nthat to cause the observed amount of precession of the equinoxes, the\nEarth's crust must be at least eight hundred miles thick. Here is an\nimmense discrepancy. However imperfect may be the data from which it is\ncalculated that the Earth is molten at forty miles deep, it seems very\nunlikely that this conclusion differs from the truth so widely as forty\nmiles does from eight hundred. It seems scarcely conceivable that if the\ncrust is thus thick, it should by its contraction and corrugation, produce\nmountain chains, as it has done during quite modern geologic epochs. It is\nnot easy on this supposition to explain elevations and subsidences of small\narea. Neither do the phenomena of volcanoes appear comprehensible. Indeed\nto account for these, Prof. Hopkins has been obliged to make the gratuitous\nand extremely improbable assumption, that there are isolated lakes of\nmolten matter enclosed in this thick crust, and situated, as they must be,\nnot far from its outer surface.\n\nBut irreconcileable as appear the astronomical with the geological facts,\nif we take for granted that the Earth consists wholly of solid and liquid\nsubstances, they become at once reconcileable if we adopt the conclusion\nthat the Earth has a gaseous nucleus. If there is an internal cavity of\nconsiderable diameter occupied only by aeriform matter--if the density of\nthe surrounding shell is, as it must in that case be, greater than the\ncurrent supposition implies; then there will be a larger quantity of matter\ncontained in the equatorial protuberance, and an adequate cause for the\nprecession. Manifestly there may be found some proportion between the\ncentral space and its envelope, which will satisfy the mechanical\nrequirements, without involving a thicker crust than geological phenomena\nindicate.[R]\n\n  [R] Since this was written, M. Poinsot has shown that the precession\n      would be the same whether the Earth were solid or hollow.\n\nWe conceive, then, that the hypothesis we have set forth, is in many\nrespects preferable to that ordinarily received. We can know nothing by\ndirect observation concerning the central parts either of our own planet or\nany other: indirect methods are alone possible. The idea which has been\ntacitly adopted, is just as speculative as that we have opposed to it; and\nthe only question is, which harmonizes best with established facts. Thus\ncompared, the advantage is greatly on the side of the new one. It disposes\nof sundry anomalies, and explains things that seem else incomprehensible.\nWe are no longer obliged to assume such wide differences between the\nsubstances of the various planets: we need not think of any of them as like\ncork or water. We are shown how it happens that the larger planets have so\nmuch lower specific gravities than the smaller, instead of having higher\nones, as might have been expected; and we are further shown why Saturn is\nthe lightest of all. That Mercury is relatively so much heavier than the\nSun; that Jupiter is specifically lighter than his smallest satellite; that\nSaturn's rings have a density one and a half times as great as Saturn; are\nno longer mysteries. A feasible cause is assigned for the catastrophe which\nproduced the asteroids. And some apparently incongruous peculiarities in\nthe Earth's structure are brought to an agreement. May we not say, then,\nthat being deducible from the Nebular Hypothesis, this alleged planetary\nstructure gives further indirect support to that hypothesis?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn considering the specific gravities of the heavenly bodies, we have been\nobliged to speak of the heat evolved by them. But we have yet to point out\nthe fact that in their present conditions with respect to temperature, we\nfind additional materials for building up our argument; and these too of\nthe most substantial character.\n\nHeat must inevitably be generated by the aggregation of diffused matter\ninto a concrete form; and throughout our reasonings we have assumed that\nsuch generation of heat has been an accompaniment of nebular condensation.\nIf, then, the Nebular Hypothesis be true, we ought to find in all the\nheavenly bodies, either present high temperature or marks of past high\ntemperature.\n\nAs far as observation can reach, the facts prove to be what theory\nrequires. Various evidences conspire to show that, below a certain depth,\nthe Earth is still molten. And that it was once wholly molten, is implied\nby the circumstance that the rate at which the temperature increases on\ndescending below its surface, is such as would be found in a mass that had\nbeen cooling for an indefinite period. The Moon, too, shows us, by its\ncorrugations and its conspicuous volcanoes, that in it there has been a\nprocess of refrigeration and contraction, like that which had gone on in\nthe Earth. And in Venus, the existence of mountains similarly indicates an\nigneous reaction of the interior upon a solidifying crust.\n\nOn the common theory of creation, these phenomena are inexplicable. To what\nend the Earth should once have existed in a molten state, incapable of\nsupporting life, it cannot say. To satisfy this supposition, the Earth\nshould have been originally created in a state fit for the assumed purposes\nof creation; and similarly with the other planets. While, therefore, to the\nNebular Hypothesis the evidence of original incandescence and still\ncontinued internal heat, furnish strong confirmation, they are, to the\nantagonist hypothesis, insurmountable difficulties.\n\nBut the argument from temperature does not end here. There remains to be\nnoticed a more conspicuous and still more significant fact. If the Solar\nSystem was formed by the concentration of diffused matter, which evolved\nheat while gravitating into its present dense form; then there are certain\nobvious corollaries respecting the relative temperatures of the resulting\nbodies. Other things equal, the latest-formed mass will be the latest in\ncooling--will, for an almost infinite time, possess a greater heat than the\nearlier-formed ones. Other things equal, the largest mass will, because of\nits superior aggregative force, become hotter than the others, and radiate\nmore intensely. Other things equal, the largest mass, notwithstanding the\nhigher temperature it reaches, will, in consequence of its relatively small\nsurface, be the slowest in losing its evolved heat. And hence, if there is\none mass which was not only formed after the rest, but exceeds them\nenormously in size, it follows that this one will reach an intensity of\nincandescence much beyond that reached by the rest; and will continue in a\nstate of intense incandescence long after the rest have cooled.\n\nSuch a mass we have in the Sun. It is a corollary from the Nebular\nHypothesis, that the matter forming the Sun assumed its present concrete\nform, at a period much more recent than that at which the planets became\ndefinite bodies. The quantity of matter contained in the Sun is nearly five\nmillion times that contained in the smallest planet, and above a thousand\ntimes that contained in the largest. And while, from the enormous\ngravitative force of the atoms, the evolution of heat has been intense, the\nfacilities of radiation have been relatively small. Hence the\nstill-continued high temperature. Just that condition of the central body\nwhich is a necessary inference from the Nebular Hypothesis, we find\nactually existing in the Sun.\n\nIt may be well to consider a little more closely, what is the probable\ncondition of the Sun's surface. Round the globe of incandescent molten\nsubstances, thus conceived to form the visible body of the Sun, there is\nknown to exist a voluminous atmosphere: the inferior brilliancy of the\nSun's border, and the appearances during a total eclipse, alike show\nthis.[S] What now must be the constitution of this atmosphere? At a\ntemperature approaching a thousand times that of molten iron, which is the\ncalculated temperature of the solar surface, very many, if not all, of the\nsubstances we know as solid, would become gaseous; and though the Sun's\nenormous attractive force must be a powerful check on this tendency to\nassume the form of vapour, yet it cannot be questioned that if the body of\nthe Sun consists of molten substances, some of them must be constantly\nundergoing evaporation. That the dense gases thus continually being\ngenerated will form the entire mass of the solar atmosphere, is not\nprobable. If anything is to be inferred, either from the Nebular\nHypothesis, or from the analogies supplied by the planets, it must be\nconcluded that the outermost part of the solar atmosphere consists of what\nare called permanent gases--gases that are not condensible into fluid even\nat low temperatures. If we consider what must have been the state of things\nhere, when the surface of the Earth was molten, we shall see that round the\nstill molten surface of the Sun, there probably exists a stratum of dense\naeriform matter, made up of sublimed metals and metallic compounds, and\nabove this a stratum of comparatively rare medium analogous to air. What\nnow will happen with these two strata? Did they both consist of permanent\ngases, they could not remain separate: according to a well-known law, they\nwould eventually form a homogeneous mixture. But this will by no means\nhappen when the lower stratum consists of matters that are gaseous only at\nexcessively high temperatures. Given off from a molten surface, ascending,\nexpanding, and cooling, these will presently reach a limit of elevation\nabove which they cannot exist as vapour, but must condense and precipitate.\nMeanwhile the upper stratum, habitually charged with its quantum of these\ndenser matters, as our air with its quantum of water, and ready to deposit\nthem on any depression of temperature, must be habitually unable to take up\nany more of the lower stratum; and therefore this lower stratum will remain\nquite distinct from it.\n\n  [S] See Herschel's \"Outlines of Astronomy.\"\n\nSince the foregoing paragraph was originally published, in 1858, the\nproposition it enunciates as a corollary from the Nebular Hypothesis, has\nbeen in great part verified. The marvellous disclosures made by\nspectrum-analysis, have proved beyond the possibility of doubt, that the\nsolar atmosphere contains, in a gaseous state, the metals, iron, calcium,\nmagnesium, sodium, chromium, and nickel, along with small quantities of\nbarium, copper, and zinc. That there exist in the solar atmosphere other\nmetals like those which we have on the Earth, is probable; and that it\ncontains elements which are unknown to us, is very possible.\n\nBe this as it may, however, the proposition that the Sun's atmosphere\nconsists largely of metallic vapours, must take rank as an established\ntruth; and that the incandescent body of the Sun consists of molten metals,\nfollows almost of necessity. That an _a priori_ inference which probably\nseemed to many readers wildly speculative, should be thus conclusively\njustified by observations, made without reference to any theory, is a\nstriking fact; and it gives yet further support to the hypothesis from\nwhich this _a priori_ conclusion was drawn. It may be well to add that\nKirchhoff, to whom we owe this discovery respecting the constitution of the\nsolar atmosphere, himself remarks in his memoir of 1861, that the facts\ndisclosed are in harmony with the Nebular Hypothesis.\n\nAnd here let us not omit to note also, the significant bearing which\nKirchhoff's results have on the doctrine contended for in a foregoing\nsection. Leaving out the barium, copper, and zinc, of which the quantities\nare inferred to be small, the metals existing as vapours in the Sun's\natmosphere, and by consequence as molten in his incandescent body, have an\naverage specific gravity of 4.25. But the average specific gravity of the\nSun is about 1. How is this discrepancy to be explained? To say that the\nSun consists almost wholly of the three lighter metals named, would be\nquite unwarranted by the evidence: the results of spectrum-analysis would\njust as much warrant the assertion that the Sun consists almost wholly of\nthe three heavier. Three metals (two of them heavy) having been already\nleft out of the estimate because their quantities appear to be small, the\nonly legitimate assumption on which to base an estimate of specific\ngravity, is that the rest are present in something like equal amounts. Is\nit then that the lighter metals exist in larger proportions in the molten\nmass, though not in the atmosphere? This is very unlikely: the known\nhabitudes of matter rather imply that the reverse is the case. Is it then\nthat under the conditions of temperature and gravitation existing in the\nSun, the state of liquid aggregation is wholly unlike that existing here?\nThis is a very strong assumption: it is one for which our terrestrial\nexperiences afford no adequate warrant; and if such unlikeness exists, it\nis very improbable that it should produce so immense a contrast in specific\ngravity as that of 4 to 1. The more legitimate conclusion is that the Sun's\nbody is not made up of molten matter all through; but that it consists of a\nmolten shell with a gaseous nucleus. And this we have seen to be a\ncorollary from the Nebular Hypothesis.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nConsidered in their _ensemble_, the several groups of evidences assigned\namount almost to proof. We have seen that, when critically examined, the\nspeculations of late years current respecting the nature of the nebulae,\ncommit their promulgators to sundry absurdities; while, on the other hand,\nwe see that the various appearances these nebulae present, are explicable as\ndifferent stages in the precipitation and aggregation of diffused matter.\nWe find that comets, alike by their physical constitution, their\nimmensely-elongated and variously-directed orbits, the distribution of\nthose orbits, and their manifest structural relation to the Solar System,\nbear testimony to the past existence of that system in a nebulous form. Not\nonly do those obvious peculiarities in the motions of the planets which\nfirst suggested the Nebular Hypothesis, supply proofs of it, but on closer\nexamination we discover, in the slightly-diverging inclinations of their\norbits, in their various rates of rotation, and their differently-directed\naxes of rotation, that the planets yield us yet further testimony; while\nthe satellites, by sundry traits, and especially by their occurrence in\ngreater or less abundance where the hypothesis implies greater or less\nabundance, confirm this testimony. By tracing out the process of planetary\ncondensation, we are led to conclusions respecting the internal structure\nof planets which at once explain their anomalous specific gravities, and at\nthe same time reconcile various seemingly contradictory facts. Once more,\nit turns out that what is _a priori_ inferable from the Nebular Hypothesis\nrespecting the temperatures of the resulting bodies, is just what\nobservation establishes; and that both the absolute and the relative\ntemperatures of the Sun and planets are thus accounted for. When we\ncontemplate these various evidences in their totality--when we observe\nthat, by the Nebular Hypothesis, the leading phenomena of the Solar System,\nand the heavens in general, are explicable; and when, on the other hand, we\nconsider that the current cosmogony is not only without a single fact to\nstand on, but is at variance with all our positive knowledge of Nature; we\nsee that the proof becomes overwhelming.\n\nIt remains only to point out that while the genesis of the Solar System,\nand of countless other systems like it, is thus rendered comprehensible,\nthe ultimate mystery continues as great as ever. The problem of existence\nis not solved: it is simply removed further back. The Nebular Hypothesis\nthrows no light on the origin of diffused matter; and diffused matter as\nmuch needs accounting for as concrete matter. The genesis of an atom is not\neasier to conceive than the genesis of a planet. Nay, indeed, so far from\nmaking the Universe a less mystery than before, it makes it a greater\nmystery. Creation by manufacture is a much lower thing than creation by\nevolution. A man can put together a machine; but he cannot make a machine\ndevelop itself. The ingenious artizan, able as some have been, so far to\nimitate vitality as to produce a mechanical pianoforte-player, may in some\nsort conceive how, by greater skill, a complete man might be artificially\nproduced; but he is unable to conceive how such a complex organism\ngradually arises out of a minute structureless germ. That our harmonious\nuniverse once existed potentially as formless diffused matter, and has\nslowly grown into its present organized state, is a far more astonishing\nfact than would have been its formation after the artificial method\nvulgarly supposed. Those who hold it legitimate to argue from phenomena to\nnoumena, may rightly contend that the Nebular Hypothesis implies a First\nCause as much transcending \"the mechanical God of Paley,\" as this does the\nfetish of the savage.\n\n\n\n\nVII. BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.\n\n\nAfter the controversy between the Neptunists and the Vulcanists had been\nlong carried on without definite results, there came a reaction against all\nspeculative geology. Reasoning without adequate data having led to nothing,\ninquirers went into the opposite extreme, and confining themselves wholly\nto collecting data, relinquished reasoning. The Geological Society of\nLondon was formed with the express object of accumulating evidence; for\nmany years hypotheses were forbidden at its meetings; and only of late have\nattempts to organize the mass of observations into consistent theory been\ntolerated.\n\nThis reaction and subsequent re-reaction, well illustrate the recent\nhistory of English thought in general. The time was when our countrymen\nspeculated, certainly to as great an extent as any other people, on all\nthose high questions which present themselves to the human intellect; and,\nindeed, a glance at the systems of philosophy that are or have been current\non the Continent, suffices to show how much other nations owe to the\ndiscoveries of our ancestors. For a generation or two, however, these more\nabstract subjects have fallen into neglect; and, among those who plume\nthemselves on being \"practical,\" even into contempt. Partly, perhaps, a\nnatural accompaniment of our rapid material growth, this intellectual phase\nhas been in great measure due to the exhaustion of argument, and the\nnecessity for better data. Not so much with a conscious recognition of the\nend to be subserved, as from an unconscious subordination to that rhythm\ntraceable in social changes as in other things, an era of theorizing\nwithout observing, has been followed by an era of observing without\ntheorizing. During the long-continued devotion to concrete science, an\nimmense quantity of raw material for abstract science has been accumulated;\nand now there is obviously commencing a period in which this accumulated\nraw material will be organized into consistent theory. On all\nsides--equally in the inorganic sciences, in the science of life, and in\nthe science of society--may we note the tendency to pass from the\nsuperficial and empirical to the more profound and rational.\n\nIn Psychology this change is conspicuous. The facts brought to light by\nanatomists and physiologists during the last fifty years, are at length\nbeing used towards the interpretation of this highest class of biological\nphenomena; and already there is promise of a great advance. The work of Mr.\nAlexander Bain, of which the second volume has been recently issued, may be\nregarded as especially characteristic of the transition. It gives us in\norderly arrangement, the great mass of evidence supplied by modern science\ntowards the building-up of a coherent system of mental philosophy. It is\nnot in itself a system of mental philosophy, properly so called; but a\nclassified collection of materials for such a system, presented with that\nmethod and insight which scientific discipline generates, and accompanied\nwith occasional passages of an analytical character. It is indeed that\nwhich it in the main professes to be--a natural history of the mind.\n\nWere we to say that the researches of the naturalist who collects and\ndissects and describes species, bear the same relation to the researches of\nthe comparative anatomist tracing out the laws of organization, which Mr.\nBain's labours bear to the labours of the abstract psychologist, we should\nbe going somewhat too far; for Mr. Bain's work is not wholly descriptive.\nStill, however, such an analogy conveys the best general conception of what\nhe has done; and serves most clearly to indicate its needfulness. For as,\nbefore there can be made anything like true generalizations respecting the\nclassification of organisms and the laws of organization, there must be an\nextensive accumulation of the facts presented in numerous organic bodies;\nso, without a tolerably-complete delineation of mental phenomena of all\norders, there can scarcely arise any adequate theory of the mind. Until\nrecently, mental science has been pursued much as physical science was\npursued by the ancients: not by drawing conclusions from observations and\nexperiments, but by drawing them from arbitrary a priori assumptions. This\ncourse, long since abandoned in the one case with immense advantage, is\ngradually being abandoned in the other; and the treatment of Psychology as\na division of natural history, shows that the abandonment will soon be\ncomplete.\n\nEstimated as a means to higher results, Mr. Bain's work is of great value.\nOf its kind it is the most scientific in conception, the most catholic in\nspirit, and the most complete in execution. Besides delineating the various\nclasses of mental phenomena as seen under that stronger light thrown on\nthem by modern science, it includes in the picture much which previous\nwriters had omitted--partly from prejudice, partly from ignorance. We refer\nmore especially to the participation of bodily organs in mental changes;\nand the addition to the primary mental changes, of those many secondary\nones which the actions of the bodily organs generate. Mr. Bain has, we\nbelieve, been the first to appreciate the importance of this element in our\nstates of consciousness; and it is one of his merits that he shows how\nconstant and large an element it is. Further, the relations of voluntary\nand involuntary movements are elucidated in a way that was not possible to\nwriters unacquainted with the modern doctrine of reflex action. And beyond\nthis, some of the analytical passages that here and there occur, contain\nimportant ideas.\n\nValuable, however, as is Mr. Bain's work, we regard it as essentially\ntransitional. It presents in a digested form the results of a period of\nobservation; adds to these results many well-delineated facts collected by\nhimself; arranges new and old materials with that more scientific method\nwhich the discipline of our times has fostered; and so prepare the way for\nbetter generalizations. But almost of necessity its classifications and\nconclusions are provisional. In the growth of each science, not only is\ncorrect observation needful for the formation of true theory; but true\ntheory is needful as a preliminary to correct observation. Of course we do\nnot intend this assertion to be taken literally; but as a strong expression\nof the fact that the two must advance hand in hand. The first crude theory\nor rough classification, based on very slight knowledge of the phenomena,\nis requisite as a means of reducing the phenomena to some kind of order;\nand as supplying a conception with which fresh phenomena may be compared,\nand their agreement or disagreement noted. Incongruities being by and by\nmade manifest by wider examination of cases, there comes such modification\nof the theory as brings it into a nearer correspondence with the evidence.\nThis reacts to the further advance of observation. More extensive and\ncomplete observation brings additional corrections of theory. And so on\ntill the truth is reached. In mental science, the systematic collection of\nfacts having but recently commenced, it is not to be expected that the\nresults can be at once rightly formulated. All that may be looked for are\napproximate generalizations which will presently serve for the better\ndirecting of inquiry. Hence, even were it not now possible to say in what\nway it does so, we might be tolerably certain that Mr. Bain's work bears\nthe stamp of the inchoate state of Psychology.\n\nWe think, however, that it will not be difficult to find in what respects\nits organization is provisional; and at the same time to show what must be\nthe nature of a more complete organization. We propose here to attempt\nthis: illustrating our positions from his recently-issued second volume.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIs it possible to make a true classification without the aid of analysis?\nor must there not be an analytical basis to every true classification? Can\nthe real relations of things be determined by the obvious characteristics\nof the things? or does it not commonly happen that certain hidden\ncharacteristics, on which the obvious ones depend, are the truly\nsignificant ones? This is the preliminary question which a glance at Mr.\nBain's scheme of the emotions suggests.\n\nThough not avowedly, yet by implication, Mr. Bain assumes that a right\nconception of the nature, the order, and the relations of the emotions, may\nbe arrived at by contemplating their conspicuous objective and subjective\ncharacters, as displayed in the adult. After pointing out that we lack\nthose means of classification which serve in the case of the sensations, he\nsays--\n\n  \"In these circumstances we must turn our attention to _the manner\n  of diffusion_ of the different passions and emotions, in order to\n  obtain a basis of classification analogous to the arrangement of the\n  sensations. If what we have already advanced on that subject be at\n  all well founded, this is the genuine turning point of the method to\n  be chosen, for the same mode of diffusion will always be accompanied\n  by the same mental experience, and each of the two aspects would\n  identify, and would be evidence of, the other. There is, therefore,\n  nothing so thoroughly characteristic of any state of feeling as the\n  nature of the diffusive wave that embodies it, or the various organs\n  specially roused into action by it, together with the manner of the\n  action. The only drawback is our comparative ignorance, and our\n  inability to discern the precise character of the diffusive currents\n  in every case; a radical imperfection in the science of mind as\n  constituted at present.\n\n  \"Our own consciousness, formerly reckoned the only medium of\n  knowledge to the mental philosopher, must therefore be still referred\n  to as a principal means of discriminating the varieties of human\n  feeling. We have the power of noting agreement and difference among\n  our conscious states, and on this we can raise a structure of\n  classification. We recognise such generalities as pleasure, pain,\n  love, anger, through the property of mental or intellectual\n  discrimination that accompanies in our mind the fact of an emotion. A\n  certain degree of precision is attainable by this mode of mental\n  comparison and analysis; the farther we can carry such precision the\n  better; but that is no reason why it should stand alone to the\n  neglect of the corporeal embodiments through which one mind reveals\n  itself to others. The companionship of inward feeling with bodily\n  manifestation is a fact of the human constitution, and deserves to be\n  studied as such; and it would be difficult to find a place more\n  appropriate than a treatise on the mind for setting forth the\n  conjunctions and sequences traceable in this department of nature. I\n  shall make no scruple in conjoining with the description of the\n  mental phenomena the physical appearances, in so far as I am able to\n  ascertain them.\n\n  \"There is still one other quarter to be referred to in settling a\n  complete arrangement of the emotions, namely, the varieties of human\n  conduct, and the machinery created in subservience to our common\n  susceptibilities. For example, the vast superstructure of fine art\n  has its foundations in human feeling, and in rendering an account of\n  this we are led to recognise the interesting group of artistic or\n  aesthetic emotions. The same outward reference to conduct and\n  creations brings to light the so-called moral sense in man, whose\n  foundations in the mental system have accordingly to be examined.\n\n  \"Combining together these various indications, or sources of\n  discrimination,--outward objects, diffusive mode or expression,\n  inward consciousness, resulting conduct and institutions--I adopt the\n  following arrangement of the families or natural orders of emotion.\"\n\nHere, then, are confessedly adopted, as bases of classification, the most\nmanifest characters of the emotions; as discerned subjectively, and\nobjectively. The mode of diffusion of an emotion is one of its outside\naspects; the institutions it generates form another of its outside aspects;\nand though the peculiarities of the emotion as a state of consciousness,\nseem to express its intrinsic and ultimate nature, yet such peculiarities\nas are perceptible by simple introspection, must also be classed as\nsuperficial peculiarities. It is a familiar fact that various intellectual\nstates of consciousness turn out, when analyzed, to have natures widely\nunlike those which at first appear; and we believe the like will prove true\nof emotional states of consciousness. Just as our concept of space, which\nis apt to be thought a simple, undecomposable concept, is yet resolvable\ninto experiences quite different from that state of consciousness which we\ncall space; so, probably, the sentiment of affection or reverence is\ncompounded of elements that are severally distinct from the whole which\nthey make up. And much as a classification of our ideas which dealt with\nthe idea of space as though it were ultimate, would be a classification of\nideas by their externals; so, a classification of our emotions, which,\nregarding them as simple, describes their aspects in ordinary\nconsciousness, is a classification of emotions by their externals.\n\nThus, then, Mr. Bain's grouping is throughout determined by the most\nmanifest attributes--those objectively displayed in the natural language of\nthe emotions, and in the social phenomena that result from them, and those\nsubjectively displayed in the aspects the emotions assume in an analytical\nconsciousness. And the question is--Can they be correctly grouped after\nthis method?\n\nWe think not; and had Mr. Bain carried farther an idea with which he has\nset out, he would probably have seen that they cannot. As already said, he\navowedly adopts \"the natural-history-method:\" not only referring to it in\nhis preface, but in his first chapter giving examples of botanical and\nzoological classifications, as illustrating the mode in which he proposes\nto deal with the emotions. This we conceive to be a philosophical\nconception; and we have only to regret that Mr. Bain has overlooked some of\nits most important implications. For in what has essentially consisted the\nprogress of natural-history-classification? In the abandonment of grouping\nby external, conspicuous characters; and in the making of certain internal,\nbut all-essential characters, the bases of groups. Whales are not now\nranged along with fish, because in their general forms and habits of life\nthey resemble fish; but they are ranged with mammals, because the type of\ntheir organization, as ascertained by dissection, corresponds with that of\nthe mammals. No longer considered as sea-weeds in virtue of their forms and\nmodes of growth, zoophytes are now shown, by examination of their economy,\nto belong to the animal kingdom.\n\nIt is found, then, that the discovery of real relationships involves\nanalysis. It has turned out that the earlier classifications, guided by\ngeneral resemblances, though containing much truth, and though very useful\nprovisionally, were yet in many cases radically wrong; and that the true\naffinities of organisms, and the true homologies of their parts, are to be\nmade out only by examining their hidden structures. Another fact of great\nsignificance in the history of classification is also to be noted. Very\nfrequently the kinship of an organism cannot be made out even by exhaustive\nanalysis, if that analysis is confined to the adult structure. In many\ncases it is needful to examine the structure in its earlier stages; and\neven in its embryonic stage. So difficult was it, for instance, to\ndetermine the true position of the Cirrhipedia among animals, by examining\nmature individuals only, that Cuvier erroneously classed them with\nMollusca, even after dissecting them; and not until their early forms were\ndiscovered, were they clearly proved to belong to the Crustacea. So\nimportant, indeed, is the study of development as a means to\nclassification, that the first zoologists now hold it to be the only\nabsolute criterion.\n\nHere, then, in the advance of natural-history-classification, are two\nfundamental facts, which should be borne in mind when classifying the\nemotions. If, as Mr. Bain rightly assumes, the emotions are to be grouped\nafter the natural-history-method; then it should be the\nnatural-history-method in its complete form, and not in its rude form. Mr.\nBain will doubtless agree in the position, that a correct account of the\nemotions in their natures and relations, must correspond with a correct\naccount of the nervous system--must form another side of the same ultimate\nfacts. Structure and function must necessarily harmonize. Structures which\nhave with each other certain ultimate connexions, must have functions that\nhave answering connexions. Structures that have arisen in certain ways,\nmust have functions that have arisen in parallel ways. And hence if\nanalysis and development are needful for the right interpretation of\nstructures, they must be needful for the right interpretation of functions.\nJust as a scientific description of the digestive organs, must include not\nonly their obvious forms and connexions, but their microscopic characters,\nand also the ways in which they severally result by differentiation from\nthe primitive mucous membrane; so must a scientific account of the nervous\nsystem, include its general arrangements, its minute structure, and its\nmode of evolution; and so must a scientific account of nervous actions,\ninclude the answering three elements. Alike in classing separate organisms,\nand in classing the parts of the same organism, the complete\nnatural-history-method involves ultimate analysis, aided by development;\nand Mr. Bain, in not basing his classification of the emotions on\ncharacters reached through these aids, has fallen short of the conception\nwith which he set out.\n\n\"But,\" it will perhaps be asked, \"how are the emotions to be analyzed, and\ntheir modes of evolution to be ascertained? Different animals, and\ndifferent organs of the same animal, may readily be compared in their\ninternal and microscopic structures, as also in their developments; but\nfunctions, and especially such functions as the emotions, do not admit of\nlike comparisons.\"\n\nIt must be admitted that the application of these methods is here by no\nmeans so easy. Though we can note differences and similarities between the\ninternal formations of two animals; it is difficult to contrast the mental\nstates of two animals. Though the true morphological relations of organs\nmay be made out by the observations of embryos; yet, where such organs are\ninactive before birth, we cannot completely trace the history of their\nactions. Obviously, too, the pursuance of inquiries of the kind indicated,\nraises questions which science is not yet prepared to answer; as, for\ninstance--Whether all nervous functions, in common with all other\nfunctions, arise by gradual differentiations, as their organs do? Whether\nthe emotions are, therefore, to be regarded as divergent modes of action,\nthat have become unlike by successive modifications? Whether, as two organs\nwhich originally budded out of the same membrane, have not only become\ndifferent as they developed, but have also severally become compound\ninternally, though externally simple: so two emotions, simple and near akin\nin their roots, may not only have grown unlike, but may also have grown\ninvolved in their natures, though seeming homogeneous to consciousness. And\nhere, indeed, in the inability of existing science to answer these\nquestions which underlie a true psychological classification, we see how\npurely provisional any present classification is likely to be.\n\nNevertheless, even now, classification may be aided by development and\nultimate analysis to a considerable extent; and the defect in Mr. Bain's\nwork is, that he has not systematically availed himself of them as far as\npossible. Thus we may, in the first place, study the evolution of the\nemotions up through the various grades of the animal kingdom: observing\nwhich of them are earliest and exist with the lowest organization and\nintelligence; in what order the others accompany higher endowments; and how\nthey are severally related to the conditions of life. In the second place,\nwe may note the emotional differences between the lower and the higher\nhuman races--may regard as earlier and simpler those feelings which are\ncommon to both, and as later and more compound those which are\ncharacteristic of the most civilized. In the third place, we may observe\nthe order in which the emotions unfold during the progress from infancy to\nmaturity. And lastly, comparing these three kinds of emotional development,\ndisplayed in the ascending grades of the animal kingdom, in the advance of\nthe civilized races, and in individual history, we may see in what respects\nthey harmonize, and what are the implied general truths.\n\nHaving gathered together and generalized these several classes of facts,\nanalysis of the emotions would be made easier. Setting out with the\nunquestionable assumption, that every new form of emotion making its\nappearance in the individual or the race, is a modification of some\npre-existing emotion, or a compounding of several pre-existing emotions; we\nshould be greatly aided by knowing what always are the pre-existing\nemotions. When, for example, we find that very few if any of the lower\nanimals show any love of accumulation, and that this feeling is absent in\ninfancy--when we see that an infant in arms exhibits anger, fear, wonder,\nwhile yet it manifests no desire of permanent possession, and that a brute\nwhich has no acquisitive emotion can nevertheless feel attachment,\njealousy, love of approbation; we may suspect that the feeling which\nproperty satisfies, is compounded out of simpler and deeper feelings. We\nmay conclude that as, when a dog hides a bone, there must exist in him a\nprospective gratification of hunger; so there must similarly at first, in\nall cases where anything is secured or taken possession of, exist an ideal\nexcitement of the feeling which that thing will gratify. We may further\nconclude that when the intelligence is such that a variety of objects come\nto be utilized for different purposes--when, as among savages, divers wants\nare satisfied through the articles appropriated for weapons, shelter,\nclothing, ornament; the act of appropriating comes to be one constantly\ninvolving agreeable associations, and one which is therefore pleasurable,\nirrespective of the end subserved. And when, as in civilized life, the\nproperty acquired is of a kind not conducing to one order of\ngratifications, but is capable of administering to all gratifications, the\npleasure of acquiring property grows more distinct from each of the various\npleasures subserved--is more completely differentiated into a separate\nemotion.\n\nThis illustration, roughly as it is sketched, will show what we mean by the\nuse of comparative psychology in aid of classification. Ascertaining by\ninduction the actual order of evolution of the emotions, we are led to\nsuspect this to be their order of successive dependence; and are so led to\nrecognize their order of ascending complexity; and by consequence their\ntrue groupings.\n\nThus, in the very process of arranging the emotions into grades, beginning\nwith those involved in the lowest forms of conscious activity and end with\nthose peculiar to the adult civilized man, the way is opened for that\nultimate analysis which alone can lead us to the true science of the\nmatter. For when we find both that there exist in a man feelings which do\nnot exist in a child, and that the European is characterized by some\nsentiments which are wholly or in a great part absent from the savage--when\nwe see that, besides the new emotions that arise spontaneously as the\nindividual becomes completely organized, there are new emotions making\ntheir appearance in the more advanced divisions of our race; we are led to\nask--How are new emotions generated? The lowest savages have not even the\nideas of justice or mercy: they have neither words for them nor can they be\nmade to conceive them; and the manifestation of them by Europeans they\nascribe to fear or cunning. There are aesthetic emotions common among\nourselves, that are scarcely in any degree experienced by some inferior\nraces; as, for instance, those produced by music. To which instances may be\nadded the less marked but more numerous contrasts that exist between\ncivilized races in the degrees of their several emotions. And if it is\nmanifest, both that all the emotions are capable of being permanently\nmodified in the course of successive generations, and that what must be\nclassed as new emotions may be brought into existence; then it follows that\nnothing like a true conception of the emotions is to be obtained, until we\nunderstand how they are evolved.\n\nComparative psychology, while it raises this inquiry, prepares the way for\nanswering it. When observing the differences between races, we can scarcely\nfail to observe also how these differences correspond with differences in\ntheir conditions of existence, and therefore in their daily experiences.\nNote the contrast between the circumstances and between the emotional\nnatures of savage and civilized. Among the lowest races of men, love of\nproperty stimulates to the obtainment only of such things as satisfy\nimmediate desires or desires of the immediate future. Improvidence is the\nrule: there is little effort to meet remote contingencies. But the growth\nof established societies, having gradually given security of possession,\nthere has been an increasing tendency to provide for coming years: there\nhas been a constant exercise of the feeling which is satisfied by a\nprovision for the future; and there has been a growth of this feeling so\ngreat that it now prompts accumulation to an extent beyond what is needful.\nNote, again, that under the discipline of social life--under a comparative\nabstinence from aggressive actions, and a performance of those\nmutually-serviceable actions implied by the division of labour--there has\nbeen a development of those gentle emotions of which inferior races exhibit\nbut the rudiments. Savages delight in giving pain rather than pleasure--are\nalmost devoid of sympathy. While among ourselves philanthropy organizes\nitself in laws, establishes numerous institutions, and dictates countless\nprivate benefactions.\n\nFrom which and other like facts, does it not seem an unavoidable inference\nthat new emotions are developed by new experiences--new habits of life? All\nare familiar with the truth, that in the individual, each feeling may be\nstrengthened by performing those actions which it prompts; and to say that\nthe feeling is _strengthened_, is to say that it is in part _made_ by these\nactions. We know further, that not unfrequently, individuals, by\npersistence in special courses of conduct, acquire special likings for such\ncourses disagreeable as these may be to others; and these whims, or morbid\ntastes, imply incipient emotions corresponding to these special activities.\nWe know that emotional characteristics, in common with all others, are\nhereditary; and the differences between civilized nations descended from\nthe same stock, show us the cumulative results of small modifications\nhereditarily transmitted. And when we see that between savage and civilized\nraces, which diverged from each other in the remote past, and have for a\nhundred generations followed modes of life becoming ever more unlike, there\nexist still greater emotional contrasts; may we not infer that the more or\nless distinct emotions which characterize civilized races, are the\norganized results of certain daily-repeated combinations of mental states\nwhich social life involves? Must we not say that habits not only modify\nemotions in the individual, and not only beget tendencies to like habits\nand accompanying emotions in descendants, but that when the conditions of\nthe race make the habits persistent, this progressive modification may go\non to the extent of producing emotions so far distinct as to seem new? And\nif so, we may suspect that such new emotions, and by implication all\nemotions analytically considered, consist of aggregated and consolidated\ngroups of those simpler feelings which habitually occur together in\nexperience: that they result from combined experiences, and are constituted\nof them.\n\nWhen, in the circumstances of any race, some one kind of action or set of\nactions, sensation or set of sensations, is usually followed, or\naccompanied by, various other sets of actions or sensations, and so entails\na large mass of pleasurable or painful states of consciousness; these, by\nfrequent repetition, become so connected together that the initial action\nor sensation brings the ideas of all the rest crowding into consciousness:\nproducing, in a degree, the pleasures or pains that have before been felt\nin reality. And when this relation, besides being frequently repeated in\nthe individual, occurs in successive generations, all the many nervous\nactions involved tend to grow organically connected. They become\nincipiently reflex; and on the occurrence of the appropriate stimulus, the\nwhole nervous apparatus which in past generations was brought into activity\nby this stimulus, becomes nascently excited. Even while yet there have been\nno individual experiences, a vague feeling of pleasure or pain is produced;\nconstituting what we may call the body of the emotion. And when the\nexperiences of past generations come to be repeated in the individual, the\nemotion gains both strength and definiteness; and is accompanied by the\nappropriate specific ideas.\n\nThis view of the matter, which we believe the established truths of\nPhysiology and Psychology unite in indicating, and which is the view that\ngeneralizes the phenomena of habit, of national characteristics, of\ncivilization in its moral aspects, at the same time that it gives us a\nconception of emotion in its origin and ultimate nature, may be illustrated\nfrom the mental modifications undergone by animals.\n\nIt is well-known that on newly-discovered lands not inhabited by man, birds\nare so devoid of fear as to allow themselves to be knocked over with\nsticks; but that in the course of generations, they acquire such a dread of\nman as to fly on his approach; and that this dread is manifested by young\nas well as old. Now unless this change be ascribed to the killing-off of\nthe least fearful, and the preservation and multiplication of the more\nfearful, which, considering the comparatively small number killed by man,\nis an inadequate cause; it must be ascribed to accumulated experiences; and\neach experience must be held to have a share in producing it. We must\nconclude that in each bird that escapes with injuries inflicted by man, or\nis alarmed by the outcries of other members of the flock (gregarious\ncreatures of any intelligence being necessarily more or less sympathetic),\nthere is established an association of ideas between the human aspect and\nthe pains, direct and indirect, suffered from human agency. And we must\nfurther conclude, that the state of consciousness which impels the bird to\ntake flight, is at first nothing more than an ideal reproduction of those\npainful impressions which before followed man's approach; that such ideal\nreproduction becomes more vivid and more massive as the painful\nexperiences, direct or sympathetic, increase; and that thus the emotion in\nits incipient state, is nothing else than an aggregation of the revived\npains before experienced.\n\nAs, in the course of generations, the young birds of this race begin to\ndisplay a fear of man before yet they have been injured by him; it is an\nunavoidable inference that the nervous system of the race has been\norganically modified by these experiences: we have no choice but to\nconclude that when a young bird is thus led to fly, it is because the\nimpression produced on its senses by the approaching man, entails, through\nan incipiently-reflex action, a partial excitement of all those nerves\nwhich in its ancestors had been excited under the like conditions; that\nthis partial excitement has its accompanying painful consciousness; and\nthat the vague painful consciousness thus arising, constitutes emotion\nproper--_emotion undecomposable into specific experiences, and therefore\nseemingly homogeneous_.\n\nIf such be the explanation of the fact in this case, then it is in all\ncases. If emotion is so generated here, then it is so generated throughout.\nWe must perforce conclude that the emotional modifications displayed by\ndifferent nations, and those higher emotions by which civilized are\ndistinguished from savage, are to be accounted for on the same principle.\nAnd concluding this, we are led strongly to suspect that the emotions in\ngeneral have severally thus originated.\n\nPerhaps we have now made sufficiently clear what we mean by the study of\nthe emotions through analysis and development. We have aimed to justify the\npositions that, without analysis aided by development, there cannot be a\ntrue natural history of the emotions; and that a natural history of the\nemotions based on external characters, can be but provisional. We think\nthat Mr. Bain, in confining himself to an account of the emotions as they\nexist in the adult civilized man, has neglected those classes of facts out\nof which the science of the matter must chiefly be built. It is true that\nhe has treated of habits as modifying emotions in the individual; but he\nhas not recognized the fact, that where conditions render habits persistent\nin successive generations, such modifications are cumulative: he has not\nhinted that the modifications produced by habit are emotions in the making.\nIt is true, also, that he occasionally refers to the characteristics of\nchildren; but he does not systematically trace the changes through which\nchildhood passes into manhood, as throwing light on the order and genesis\nof the emotions. It is further true that he here and there refers to\nnational traits in illustration of his subject; but these stand as isolated\nfacts, having no general significance: there is no hint of any relation\nbetween them and the national circumstances; while all those many moral\ncontrasts between lower and higher races which throw great light on\nclassification, are passed over. And once more, it is true that many\npassages of his work, and sometimes, indeed, whole sections of it, are\nanalytical; but his analyses are incidental--they do not underlie his\nentire scheme, but are here and there added to it. In brief, he has written\na Descriptive Psychology, which does not appeal to Comparative Psychology\nand Analytical Psychology for its leading ideas. And in doing this, he has\nomitted much that should be included in a natural history of the mind;\nwhile to that part of the subject with which he has dealt, he has given a\nnecessarily-imperfect organization.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEven leaving out of view the absence of those methods and criteria on which\nwe have been insisting, it appears to us that meritorious as is Mr. Bain's\nbook in its details, it is defective in some of its leading ideas. The\nfirst paragraphs of his first chapter, quite startled us by the strangeness\nof their definitions--a strangeness which can scarcely be ascribed to\nlaxity of expression. The paragraphs run thus:--\n\n  \"Mind is comprised under three heads--Emotion, Volition, and\n  Intellect.\n\n  \"EMOTION is the name here used to comprehend all that is understood\n  by feelings, states of feeling, pleasures, pains, passions,\n  sentiments, affections. Consciousness, and conscious states also for\n  the most part denote modes of emotion, although there is such a thing\n  as the Intellectual consciousness.\n\n  \"VOLITION, on the other hand, indicates the great fact that our\n  Pleasures and Pains, which are not the whole of our emotions, prompt\n  us to action, or stimulate the active machinery of the living\n  framework to perform such operations as procure the first and abate\n  the last. To withdraw from a scalding heat and cling to a gentle\n  warmth, are exercises of volition.\"\n\nThe last of these definitions, which we may most conveniently take first,\nseems to us very faulty. We cannot but feel astonished that Mr. Bain,\nfamiliar as he is with the phenomena of reflex action, should have so\nexpressed himself as to include a great part of them along with the\nphenomena of volition. He seems to be ignoring the discriminations of\nmodern science, and returning to the vague conceptions of the past--nay\nmore, he is comprehending under volition what even the popular speech would\nhardly bring under it. If you were to blame any one for snatching his foot\nfrom the scalding water into which he had inadvertently put it, he would\ntell you that he could not help it; and his reply would be indorsed by the\ngeneral experience, that the withdrawal of a limb from contact with\nsomething extremely hot, is quite involuntary--that it takes place not only\nwithout volition, but in defiance of an effort of will to maintain the\ncontact. How, then, can that be instanced as an example of volition, which\noccurs even when volition is antagonistic? We are quite aware that it is\nimpossible to draw any absolute line of demarcation between automatic\nactions and actions which are not automatic. Doubtless we may pass\ngradually from the purely reflex, through the consensual, to the voluntary.\nTaking the case Mr. Bain cites, it is manifest that from a heat of such\nmoderate degree that the withdrawal from it is wholly voluntary, we may\nadvance by infinitesimal steps to a heat which compels involuntary\nwithdrawal; and that there is a stage at which the voluntary and\ninvoluntary actions are mixed. But the difficulty of absolute\ndiscrimination is no reason for neglecting the broad general contrast; any\nmore than it is for confounding light with darkness. If we are to include\nas examples of volition, all cases in which pleasures and pains \"stimulate\nthe active machinery of the living framework to perform such operations as\nprocure the first and abate the last,\" then we must consider sneezing and\ncoughing, as examples of volition; and Mr. Bain surely cannot mean this.\nIndeed, we must confess ourselves at a loss. On the one hand if he does not\nmean it, his expression is lax to a degree that surprises us in so careful\na writer. On the other hand, if he does mean it, we cannot understand his\npoint of view.\n\nA parallel criticism applies to his definition of Emotion. Here, too, he\nhas departed from the ordinary acceptation of the word; and, as we think,\nin the wrong direction. Whatever may be the interpretation that is\njustified by its derivation, the word Emotion has come generally to mean\nthat kind of feeling which is not a direct result of any action on the\norganism; but is either an indirect result of such action, or arises quite\napart from such action. It is used to indicate those sentient states which\nare independently generated in consciousness; as distinguished from those\ngenerated in our corporeal framework, and known as sensations. Now this\ndistinction, tacitly made in common speech, is one which Psychology cannot\nwell reject; but one which it must adopt, and to which it must give\nscientific precision. Mr. Bain, however, appears to ignore any such\ndistinction. Under the term \"emotion,\" he includes not only passions,\nsentiments, affections, but all \"feelings, states of feeling, pleasures,\npains,\"--that is, all sensations. This does not appear to be a mere lapse\nof expression; for when, in the opening sentence, he asserts that \"mind is\ncomprised under the three heads--Emotion, Volition, and Intellect,\" he of\nnecessity implies that sensation is included under one of these heads; and\nas it cannot be included under Volition or Intellect, it must be classed\nwith Emotion: as it clearly is in the next sentence.\n\nWe cannot but think this is a retrograde step. Though distinctions which\nhave been established in popular thought and language, are not unfrequently\nmerged in the higher generalizations of science (as, for instance, when\ncrabs and worms are grouped together in the sub-kingdom _Annulosa_;) yet\nscience very generally recognizes the validity of these distinctions, as\nreal though not fundamental. And so in the present case. Such community as\nanalysis discloses between sensation and emotion, must not shut out the\nbroad contrast that exists between them. If there needs a wider word, as\nthere does, to signify any sentient state whatever; then we may fitly adopt\nfor this purpose the word currently so used, namely, \"Feeling.\" And\nconsidering as Feelings all that great division of mental states which we\ndo not class as Cognitions, may then separate this great division into the\ntwo orders, Sensations and Emotions.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd here we may, before concluding, briefly indicate the leading outlines\nof a classification which reduces this distinction to a scientific form,\nand developes it somewhat further--a classification which, while suggested\nby certain fundamental traits reached without a very lengthened inquiry, is\nyet, we believe, in harmony with that disclosed by detailed analysis.\n\nLeaving out of view the Will, which is a simple homogeneous mental state,\nforming the link between feeling and action, and not admitting of\nsubdivisions; our states of consciousness fall into two great\nclasses--COGNITIONS and FEELINGS.\n\nCOGNITIONS, or those modes of mind in which we are occupied with the\n_relations_ that subsist among our feelings, are divisible into four great\nsub-classes.\n\n_Presentative cognitions_; or those in which consciousness is occupied in\nlocalizing a sensation impressed on the organism--occupied, that is, with\nthe relation between this presented mental state and those other presented\nmental states which make up our consciousness of the part affected: as when\nwe cut ourselves.\n\n_Presentative-representative cognitions_; or those in which consciousness\nis occupied with the relation between a sensation or group of sensations\nand the representations of those various other sensations that accompany it\nin experience. This is what we commonly call perception--an act in which,\nalong with certain impressions presented to consciousness, there arise in\nconsciousness the ideas of certain other impressions ordinarily connected\nwith the presented ones: as when its visible form and colour, lead us to\nmentally endow an orange with all its other attributes.\n\n_Representative cognitions_; or those in which consciousness is occupied\nwith the relations among ideas or represented sensations: as in all acts of\nrecollection.\n\n_Re-representative cognitions_; or those in which the occupation of\nconsciousness is not by representation of special relations, that have\nbefore been presented to consciousness; but those in which such represented\nspecial relations are thought of merely as comprehended in a general\nrelation--those in which the concrete relations once experienced, in so far\nas they become objects of consciousness at all, are incidentally\nrepresented, along with the abstract relation which formulates them. The\nideas resulting from this abstraction, do not themselves represent actual\nexperiences; but are symbols which stand for groups of such actual\nexperiences--represent aggregates of representations. And thus they may be\ncalled re-representative cognitions. It is clear that the process of\nre-representation is carried to higher stages, as the thought becomes more\nabstract.\n\nFEELINGS, or those modes of mind in which we are occupied, not with the\nrelations subsisting between our sentient states, but with the sentient\nstates themselves, are divisible into four parallel sub-classes.\n\n_Presentative feelings_, ordinarily called sensations, are those mental\nstates in which, instead of regarding a corporeal impression as of this or\nthat kind, or as located here or there, we contemplate it in itself as\npleasure or pain: as when eating.\n\n_Presentative-representative feelings_, embracing a great part of what we\ncommonly call emotions, are those in which a sensation, or group of\nsensations or group of sensations and ideas, arouses a vast aggregation of\nrepresented sensations; partly of individual experience, but chiefly deeper\nthan individual experience, and, consequently, indefinite. The emotion of\nterror may serve as an example. Along with certain impressions made on the\neyes or ears, or both, are recalled in consciousness many of the pains to\nwhich such impressions have before been the antecedents; and when the\nrelation between such impressions and such pains has been habitual in the\nrace, the definite ideas of such pains which individual experience has\ngiven, are accompanied by the indefinite pains that result from inherited\nexperience--vague feelings which we may call organic representations. In an\ninfant, crying at a strange sight or sound while yet in the nurse's arms,\nwe see these organic representations called into existence in the shape of\ndim discomfort, to which individual experience has yet given no specific\noutlines.\n\n_Representative feelings_, comprehending the ideas of the feelings above\nclassed, when they are called up apart from the appropriate external\nexcitements. As instances of these may be named the feelings with which the\ndescriptive poet writes, and which are aroused in the minds of his readers.\n\n_Re-representative feelings_, under which head are included those more\ncomplex sentient states that are less the direct results of external\nexcitements than the indirect or reflex results of them. The love of\nproperty is a feeling of this kind. It is awakened not by the presence of\nany special object, but by ownable objects at large; and it is not from the\nmere presence of such object, but from a certain ideal relation to them,\nthat it arises. As before shown (p. 311) it consists, not of the\nrepresented advantages of possessing this or that, but of the represented\nadvantages of possession in general--is not made up of certain concrete\nrepresentations, but of the abstracts of many concrete representations; and\nso is re-representative. The higher sentiments, as that of justice, are\nstill more completely of this nature. Here the sentient state is compounded\nout of sentient states that are themselves wholly, or almost wholly,\nre-representative: it involves representations of those lower emotions\nwhich are produced by the possession of property, by freedom of action,\netc.; and thus is re-representative in a higher degree.\n\nThis classification, here roughly indicated and capable of further\nexpansion, will be found in harmony with the results of detailed analysis\naided by development. Whether we trace mental progression through the\ngrades of the animal kingdom, through the grades of mankind, or through the\nstages of individual growth; it is obvious that the advance, alike in\ncognitions and feelings, is, and must be, from the presentative to the more\nand more remotely representative. It is undeniable that intelligence\nascends from those simple perceptions in which consciousness is occupied in\nlocalizing and classifying sensations, to perceptions more and more\ncompound, to simple reasoning, to reasoning more and more complex and\nabstract--more and more remote from sensation. And in the evolution of\nfeelings, there is a parallel series of steps. Simple sensations;\nsensations combined together; sensations combined with represented\nsensations; represented sensations organized into groups, in which their\nseparate characters are very much merged; representations of these\nrepresentative groups, in which the original components have become still\nmore vague. In both cases, the progress has necessarily been from the\nsimple and concrete to the complex and abstract: and as with the\ncognitions, so with the feelings, this must be the basis of classification.\n\nThe space here occupied with criticisms on Mr. Bain's work, we might have\nfilled with exposition and eulogy, had we thought this the more important.\nThough we have freely pointed out what we conceive to be its defects, let\nit not be inferred that we question its great merits. We repeat that, as a\nnatural history of the mind, we believe it to be the best yet produced. It\nis a most valuable collection of carefully-elaborated materials. Perhaps we\ncannot better express our sense of its worth, than by saying that, to those\nwho hereafter give to this branch of Psychology a thoroughly scientific\norganization, Mr. Bain's book will be indispensable.\n\n\n\n\nVIII. ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY.\n\n\nThat proclivity to generalization which is possessed in greater or less\ndegree by all minds, and without which, indeed, intelligence cannot exist,\nhas unavoidable inconveniences. Through it alone can truth be reached; and\nyet it almost inevitably betrays into error. But for the tendency to\npredicate of every other case, that which has been found in the observed\ncases, there could be no rational thinking; and yet by this indispensable\ntendency, men are perpetually led to found, on limited experience,\npropositions which they wrongly assume to be universal or absolute. In one\nsense, however, this can scarcely be regarded as an evil; for without\npremature generalizations the true generalization would never be arrived\nat. If we waited till all the facts were accumulated before trying to\nformulate them, the vast unorganized mass would be unmanageable. Only by\nprovisional grouping can they be brought into such order as to be dealt\nwith; and this provisional grouping is but another name for premature\ngeneralization.\n\nHow uniformly men follow this course, and how needful the errors are as\nsteps to truth, is well illustrated in the history of Astronomy. The\nheavenly bodies move round the Earth in circles, said the earliest\nobservers: led partly by the appearances, and partly by their experiences\nof central motions in terrestrial objects, with which, as all circular,\nthey classed the celestial motions from lack of any alternative conception.\nWithout this provisional belief, wrong as it was, there could not have been\nthat comparison of positions which showed that the motions are not\nrepresentable by circles; and which led to the hypothesis of epicycles and\neccentrics. Only by the aid of this hypothesis, equally untrue, but capable\nof accounting more nearly for the appearances, and so of inducing more\naccurate observations--only thus did it become possible for Copernicus to\nshow that the heliocentric theory is more feasible than the geocentric\ntheory; or for Kepler to show that the planets move round the sun in\nellipses. Yet again, without the aid of this approximate truth discovered\nby Kepler, Newton could not have established that general law from which it\nfollows, that the motion of a heavenly body round its centre of gravity is\nnot necessarily in an ellipse, but may be in any conic section. And lastly,\nit was only after the law of gravitation had been verified, that it became\npossible to determine the actual courses of planets, satellites, and\ncomets; and to prove that, in consequence of perturbations, their orbits\nalways deviate, more or less, from regular curves. Thus, there followed one\nanother five provisional theories of the Solar System, before the sixth and\nabsolutely true theory was reached. In which five provisional theories,\neach for a time held as final, we may trace both the tendency men have to\nleap from scanty data to wide generalizations, that are either untrue or\nbut partially true; and the necessity there is for these transitional\ngeneralizations as steps to the final one.\n\nIn the progress of geological speculation the same laws of thought are\nclearly displayed. We have dogmas that were more than half false, passing\ncurrent for a time as universal truths. We have evidence collected in proof\nof these dogmas; by and by a colligation of facts in antagonism with them;\nand eventually a consequent modification. In conformity with this somewhat\nimproved hypothesis, we have a better classification of facts; a greater\npower of arranging and interpreting the new facts now rapidly gathered\ntogether; and further resulting corrections of hypothesis. Being, as we are\nat present, in the midst of this process, it is not possible to give an\nadequate account of the development of geological science as thus regarded:\nthe earlier stages are alone known to us. Not only, however, is it\ninteresting to observe how the more advanced views now received respecting\nthe Earth's history, have been evolved out of the crude views which\npreceded them; but we shall find it extremely instructive to observe this.\nWe shall see how greatly the old ideas still sway, both the general mind,\nand the minds of geologists themselves. We shall see how the kind of\nevidence that has in part abolished these old ideas, is still daily\naccumulating, and threatens to make other like revolutions. In brief, we\nshall see whereabouts we are in the elaboration of a true theory of the\nEarth; and, seeing our whereabouts, shall be the better able to judge,\namong various conflicting opinions, which best conform to the ascertained\ndirection of geological discovery.\n\nIt is alike needless and impracticable here to enumerate the many\nspeculations which were in earlier ages propounded by acute\nmen--speculations some of which contained portions of truth. Falling in\nunfit times, these speculations did not germinate; and hence do not concern\nus. We have nothing to do with ideas, however good, out of which no science\ngrew; but only with those which gave origin to the system of Geology that\nnow exists. We therefore begin with Werner.\n\nTaking for data the appearances of the Earth's crust in a narrow district\nof Germany; observing the constant order of superposition of strata, and\ntheir respective physical characters; Werner drew the inference that strata\nof like characters succeeded each other in like order over the entire\nsurface of the Earth. And seeing, from the laminated structure of many\nformations and the organic remains contained in others, that they were\nsedimentary; he further inferred that these universal strata had been in\nsuccession precipitated from a chaotic menstruum which once covered our\nplanet. Thus, on a very incomplete acquaintance with a thousandth part of\nthe Earth's crust, he based a sweeping generalization applying to the whole\nof it. This Neptunist hypothesis, mark, borne out though it seemed to be by\nthe most conspicuous surrounding facts, was quite untenable if analyzed.\nThat a universal chaotic menstruum should deposit, one after another,\nnumerous sharply-defined strata, differing from each other in composition,\nis incomprehensible. That the strata so deposited should contain the\nremains of plants and animals, which could not have lived under the\nsupposed conditions, is still more incomprehensible. Physically absurd,\nhowever, as was this hypothesis, it recognized, though under a distorted\nform, one of the great agencies of geological change--that of water. It\nserved also to express the fact that the formations of the Earth's crust\nstand in some kind of order. Further, it did a little towards supplying a\nnomenclature, without which much progress was impossible. Lastly, it\nfurnished a standard with which successions of strata in various regions\ncould be compared, the differences noted, and the actual sections\ntabulated. It was the first provisional generalization; and was useful, if\nnot indispensable, as a step to truer ones.\n\nFollowing this rude conception, which ascribed geological phenomena to one\nagency, acting during one primeval epoch, there came a greatly-improved\nconception, which ascribed them to two agencies, acting alternately during\nsuccessive epochs. Hutton, perceiving that sedimentary deposits were still\nbeing formed at the bottom of the sea from the detritus carried down by\nrivers; perceiving, further, that the strata of which the visible surface\nchiefly consists, bore marks of having been similarly formed out of\npre-existing land; and inferring that these strata could have become land\nonly by upheaval after their deposit; concluded that throughout an\nindefinite past, there had been periodic convulsions, by which continents\nwere raised, with intervening eras of repose, during which such continents\nwere worn down and transformed into new marine strata, fated to be in their\nturns elevated above the surface of the ocean. And finding that igneous\naction, to which sundry earlier geologists had ascribed basaltic rocks, was\nin countless places a source of disturbance, he taught that from it\nresulted these periodic convulsions. In this theory we see:--first, that\nthe previously-recognized agency of water was conceived to act, not as by\nWerner, after a manner of which we have no experience, but after a manner\ndaily displayed to us; and second, that the igneous agency, before\nconsidered only as a cause of special formations, was recognized as a\nuniversal agency, but assumed to act in an unproved way. Werner's sole\nprocess, Hutton developed from the catastrophic and inexplicable into the\nuniform and explicable; while that antagonistic second process, of which he\nfirst adequately estimated the importance, was regarded by him as a\ncatastrophic one, and was not assimilated to known processes--not\nexplained. We have here to note, however, that the facts collected and\nprovisionally arranged in conformity with Werner's theory, served, after a\ntime, to establish Hutton's more rational theory--in so far, at least, as\naqueous formations are concerned; while the doctrine of periodic\nsubterranean convulsions, crudely as it was conceived by Hutton, was a\ntemporary generalization needful as a step towards the theory of igneous\naction.\n\nSince Hutton's time, the development of geological thought has gone still\nfurther in the same direction. These early sweeping doctrines have received\nadditional qualifications. It has been discovered that more numerous and\nmore heterogeneous agencies have been at work, than was at first believed.\nThe igneous hypothesis has been rationalized, as the aqueous one had\npreviously been: the gratuitous assumption of vast elevations suddenly\noccurring after long intervals of quiescence, has grown into the consistent\ntheory, that islands and continents are the accumulated results of\nsuccessive small upheavals, like those experienced in ordinary earthquakes.\n\nTo speak more specifically, we find, in the first place, that instead of\nassuming the denudation produced by rain and rivers to be the sole means of\nwearing down lands and producing their irregularities of surface,\ngeologists now see that denudation is only a part-cause of such\nirregularities; and further, that the new strata deposited at the bottom of\nthe sea, are not the products of river-sediment solely, but are in part due\nto the action of waves and tidal currents on the coasts. In the second\nplace, we find that Hutton's conception of upheaval by subterranean forces,\nhas not only been modified by assimilating these subterranean forces to\nordinary earthquake-forces; but modern inquiries have shown that, besides\nelevations of surface, subsidences are thus produced; that local upheavals,\nas well as the general upheavals, which raise continents, come within the\nsame category; and that all these changes are probably consequent on the\nprogressive collapse of the Earth's crust upon its cooling and contracting\nnucleus--the only adequate cause. In the third place, we find that beyond\nthese two great antagonist agencies, modern Geology recognises sundry minor\nones: as those of glaciers and icebergs; those of coral-polypes; those of\n_Protozoa_ having siliceous or calcareous shells--each of which agencies,\ninsignificant as it seems, is found capable of slowly working terrestrial\nchanges of considerable magnitude. Thus, then, the recent progress of\nGeology has been a still further departure from primitive conceptions.\nInstead of one catastrophic cause, once in universal action, as supposed by\nWerner--instead of one general continuous cause, antagonized at long\nintervals by a catastrophic cause, as taught by Hutton; we now recognize\nseveral causes, all more or less general and continuous. We no longer\nresort to hypothetical agencies to explain the phenomena displayed by the\nEarth's crust; but we are day by day more clearly perceiving that these\nphenomena have arisen from forces like those now at work, which have acted\nin all varieties of combination, through immeasurable periods of time.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHaving thus briefly traced the evolution of geologic science, and noted its\npresent form, let us go on to observe the way in which it is still swayed\nby the crude hypotheses it set out with; so that even now, old doctrines\nthat are abandoned as untenable in theory, continue in practice to mould\nthe ideas of geologists, and to foster sundry beliefs that are logically\nindefensible. We shall see, both how those simple sweeping conceptions with\nwhich the science commenced, are those which every student is apt at first\nto seize hold of, and how several influences conspire to maintain the twist\nthus resulting--how the original nomenclature of periods and formations\nnecessarily keeps alive the original implications; and how the need for\narranging new data in some order, naturally results in their being thrust\ninto the old classification, unless their incongruity with it is very\nglaring. A few facts will best prepare the way for criticism.\n\nUp to 1839 it was inferred, from their crystalline character, that the\nmetamorphic rocks of Anglesea are more ancient than any rocks of the\nadjacent main land; but it has since been shown that they are of the same\nage with the slates and grits of Carnarvon and Merioneth. Again, slaty\ncleavage having been first found only in the lowest rocks, was taken as an\nindication of the highest antiquity: whence resulted serious mistakes; for\nthis mineral characteristic is now known to occur in the Carboniferous\nsystem. Once more, certain red conglomerates and grits on the north-west\ncoast of Scotland, long supposed from their lithological aspect to belong\nto the Old Red Sandstone, are now identified with the Lower Silurians.\n\nThese are a few instances of the small trust to be placed in mineral\nqualities, as evidence of the ages or relative positions of strata. From\nthe recently-published third edition of _Siluria_, may be culled numerous\nfacts of like implication. Sir R. Murchison considers it ascertained, that\nthe siliceous Stiper stones of Shropshire are the equivalents of the\nTremadock slates of North Wales. Judged by their fossils, Bala slate and\nlimestone are of the same age as the Caradoc sandstone, lying forty miles\noff. In Radnorshire, the formation classed as upper Llandovery rock, is\ndescribed at different spots, as \"sandstone or conglomerate,\" \"impure\nlimestone,\" \"hard coarse grits,\" \"siliceous grit\"--a considerable variation\nfor so small an area as that of a county. Certain sandy beds on the left\nbank of the Towy, which Sir R. Murchison had, in his _Silurian System_,\nclassed as Caradoc sandstone (evidently from their mineral characters), he\nnow finds, from their fossils, belong to the Llandeilo formation.\nNevertheless, inferences from mineral characters are still habitually drawn\nand received. Though _Siluria_, in common with other geological works,\nsupplies numerous proofs that rocks of the same age are often of\nwidely-different composition a few miles off, while rocks of widely\ndifferent ages are often of similar composition; and though Sir. R.\nMurchison shows us, as in the case just cited, that he has himself in past\ntimes been misled by trusting to lithological evidence; yet his reasoning,\nall through _Siluria_, shows that he still thinks it natural to expect\nformations of the same age to be chemically similar, even in remote\nregions. For example, in treating of the Silurian rocks of South Scotland,\nhe says:--\"When traversing the tract between Dumfries and Moffat in 1850,\nit occurred to me that the dull reddish or purple sandstone and schist to\nthe north of the former town, which so resembled the bottom rocks of the\nLongmynd, Llanberis, and St. David's, would prove to be of the same age;\"\nand further on he again insists upon the fact that these strata \"are\nabsolutely of the same composition as the bottom rocks of the Silurian\nregion.\"\n\nOn this unity of mineral character it is, that this Scottish formation is\nconcluded to be contemporaneous with the lowest formations in Wales; for\nthe scanty palaeontological evidence suffices neither for proof nor\ndisproof. Now, had there been a continuity of like strata in like order\nbetween Wales and Scotland, there might have been little to criticise in\nthis conclusion. But since Sir R. Murchison himself admits, that in\nWestmoreland and Cumberland, some members of the system \"assume a\nlithological aspect different from what they maintain in the Silurian and\nWelsh region,\" there seems no reason to expect mineralogical continuity in\nScotland. Obviously therefore, the assumption that these Scottish\nformations are of the same age with the Longmynd of Shropshire, implies the\nlatent belief that certain mineral characters indicate certain eras.\n\nFar more striking instances, however, of the influence of this latent\nbelief remain to be given. Not in such comparatively near districts as the\nScottish lowlands only, does Sir R. Murchison expect a repetition of the\nLongmynd strata; but in the Rhenish provinces, certain \"quartzose\nflagstones and grits, like those of the Longmynd,\" are seemingly concluded\nto be of contemporaneous origin, because of their likeness. \"Quartzites in\nroofing-slates with a greenish tinge that reminded us of the lower slates\nof Cumberland and Westmoreland,\" are evidently suspected to be of the same\nage. In Russia, he remarks that the carboniferous limestones \"are overlaid\nalong the western edge of the Ural chain by sandstones and grits, which\noccupy much the same place in the general series as the millstone grit of\nEngland;\" and in calling this group, as he does, the \"representative of the\nmillstone grit,\" Sir R. Murchison clearly shows that he thinks likeness of\nmineral composition some evidence of equivalence in time, even at that\ngreat distance. Nay, on the flanks of the Andes and in the United States,\nsuch similarities are looked for, and considered as significant of certain\nages. Not that Sir R. Murchison contends theoretically for this relation\nbetween lithological character and date. For on the page from which we have\njust quoted (_Siluria_, p. 387), he says, that \"whilst the soft Lower\nSilurian clays and sands of St. Petersburg have their equivalents in the\nhard schists and quartz rocks with gold veins in the heart of the Ural\nmountains, the equally soft red and green Devonian marls of the Valdai\nHills are represented on the western flank of that chain, by hard,\ncontorted, and fractured limestones.\" But these, and other such admissions,\nseem to go for little. Whilst himself asserting that the Potsdam-sandstone\nof North America, the Lingula-flags of England, and the alum-slates of\nScandinavia are of the same period--while fully aware that among the\nSilurian formations of Wales, there are oolitic strata like those of\nsecondary age; yet is his reasoning more or less coloured by the\nassumption, that formations of like qualities probably belong to the same\nera. Is it not manifest, then, that the exploded hypothesis of Werner\ncontinues to influence geological speculation?\n\n\"But,\" it will perhaps be said, \"though individual strata are not\ncontinuous over large areas, yet systems of strata are. Though within a few\nmiles the same bed gradually passes from clay into sand, or thins out and\ndisappears, yet the group of strata to which it belongs does not do so; but\nmaintains in remote regions the same relations to other groups.\"\n\nThis is the generally-current belief. On this assumption the received\ngeological classifications appear to be framed. The Silurian system, the\nDevonian system, the Carboniferous system, etc., are set down in our books\nas groups of formations which everywhere succeed each other in a given\norder; and are severally everywhere of the same age. Though it may not be\nasserted that these successive systems are universal; yet it seems to be\ntacitly assumed that they are so. In North and South America, in Asia, in\nAustralia, sets of strata are assimilated to one or other of these groups;\nand their possession of certain mineral characters and a certain order of\nsuperposition are among the reasons assigned for so assimilating them.\nThough, probably, no competent geologist would contend that the European\nclassification of strata is applicable to the globe as a whole; yet most,\nif not all geologists, write as though it were so. Among readers of works\non Geology, nine out of ten carry away the impression that the divisions,\nPrimary, Secondary and Tertiary, are of absolute and uniform application;\nthat these great divisions are separable into subdivisions, each of which\nis definitely distinguishable from the rest, and is everywhere recognizable\nby its characters as such or such; and that in all parts of the Earth,\nthese minor systems severally began and ended at the same time. When they\nmeet with the term \"carboniferous era,\" they take for granted that it was\nan era universally carboniferous--that it was, what Hugh Miller indeed\nactually describes it, an era when the Earth bore a vegetation far more\nluxuriant than it has since done; and were they in any of our colonies to\nmeet with a coal-bed, they would conclude that, as a matter of course, it\nwas of the same age as the English coal-beds.\n\nNow this belief that geologic \"systems\" are universal, is quite as\nuntenable as the other. It is just as absurd when considered _a priori_;\nand it is equally inconsistent with the facts. Though some series of strata\nclassed together as Oolite, may range over a wider district than any one\nstratum of the series; yet we have but to ask what were the circumstances\nof its deposit, to see that the Oolitic series, like one of its individual\nstrata, must be of local origin; and that there is not likely to be\nanywhere else, a series that exactly corresponds, either in its characters\nor in its commencement and termination. For the formation of such a series\nimplies an area of subsidence, in which its component beds were thrown\ndown. Every area of subsidence is necessarily limited; and to suppose that\nthere exist elsewhere groups of beds completely answering to those known as\nOolite, is to suppose that, in contemporaneous areas of subsidence, like\nprocesses were going on. There is no reason to suppose this; but every\nreason to suppose the reverse. That in contemporaneous areas of subsidence\nthroughout the globe, the conditions would cause the formation of Oolite,\nor anything like it, is an assumption which no modern geologist would\nopenly make: he would say that the equivalent series of beds found\nelsewhere, would very likely be of dissimilar mineral character.\n\nMoreover, in these contemporaneous areas of subsidence, the phenomena going\non would not only be more or less different in kind; but in no two cases\nwould they be likely to agree in their commencements and terminations. The\nprobabilities are greatly against separate portions of the Earth's surface\nbeginning to subside at the same time, and ceasing to subside at the same\ntime--a coincidence which alone could produce equivalent groups of strata.\nSubsidences in different places begin and end with utter irregularity; and\nhence the groups of strata thrown down in them can but rarely correspond.\nMeasured against each other in time, their limits will disagree. They will\nrefuse to fit into any scheme of definite divisions. On turning to the\nevidence, we find that it daily tends more and more to justify these _a\npriori_ positions. Take, as an example, the Old Red Sandstone system. In\nthe north of England this is represented by a single stratum of\nconglomerate. In Herefordshire, Worcestershire, and Shropshire, it expands\ninto a series of strata from eight to ten thousand feet thick, made up of\nconglomerates, red, green, and white sandstones, red, green, and spotted\nmarls, and concretionary limestones. To the south-west, as between\nCaermarthen and Pembroke, these Old Red Sandstone strata exhibit\nconsiderable lithological changes; and there is an absence of fossil\nfishes. On the other side of the Bristol Channel, they display further\nchanges in mineral characters and remains. While in South Devon and\nCornwall, the equivalent strata, consisting chiefly of slates, schists, and\nlimestones, are so wholly different, that they were for a long time classed\nas Silurian. When we thus see that in certain directions the whole group of\ndeposits thins out, and that its mineral characters as well as its fossils\nchange within moderate distances; does it not become clear that the whole\ngroup of deposits was a local one? And when we find, in other regions,\nformations analogous to these Old Red Sandstone or Devonian formations; is\nit certain--is it even probable--that they severally began and ended at the\nsame time with them? Should it not require overwhelming evidence to make us\nbelieve as much?\n\nYet so strongly is geological speculation swayed by the tendency to regard\nthe phenomena as general instead of local, that even those most on their\nguard against it seem unable to escape its influence. At page 158 of his\n_Principles of Geology_, Sir Charles Lyell says:--\n\n  \"A group of red marl and red sandstone, containing salt and gypsum,\n  being interposed in England between the Lias and the Coal, all other\n  red marls and sandstones, associated some of them with salt, and\n  others with gypsum, and occurring not only in different parts of\n  Europe, but in North America, Peru, India, the salt deserts of Asia,\n  those of Africa--in a word, in every quarter of the globe, were\n  referred to one and the same period.... It was in vain to urge as an\n  objection the improbability of the hypothesis which implies that all\n  the moving waters on the globe were once simultaneously charged with\n  sediment of a red colour. But the rashness of pretending to identify,\n  in age, all the red sandstones and marls in question, has at length\n  been sufficiently exposed, by the discovery that, even in Europe,\n  they belong decidedly to many different epochs.\"\n\nNevertheless, while in this and numerous passages of like implication, Sir\nC. Lyell protests against the bias here illustrated, he seems himself not\ncompletely free from it. Though he utterly rejects the old hypothesis that\nall over the Earth the same continuous strata lie upon each other in\nregular order, like the coats of an onion, he still writes as though\ngeologic \"systems\" do thus succeed each other. A reader of his _Manual_\nwould certainly suppose him to believe, that the Primary epoch ended, and\nthe Secondary epoch commenced, all over the world at the same time--that\nthese terms really correspond to distinct universal eras in Nature. When he\nassumes, as he does, that the division between Cambrian and Lower Silurian\nin America, answers chronologically to the division between Cambrian and\nLower Silurian in Wales--when he takes for granted that the partings of\nLower from Middle Silurian, and of Middle Silurian from Upper, in the one\nregion, are of the same dates as the like partings in the other region;\ndoes it not seem that he believes geologic \"systems\" to be universal, in\nthe sense that their separations were in all places contemporaneous? Though\nhe would, doubtless, disown this as an article of faith, is not his\nthinking unconsciously influenced by it? Must we not say that though the\nonion-coat hypothesis is dead, its spirit is traceable, under a\ntranscendental form, even in the conclusions of its antagonists?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLet us now consider another leading geological doctrine, introduced to us\nby the cases just mentioned. We mean the doctrine that strata of the same\nage contain like fossils; and that, therefore, the age and relative\nposition of any stratum may be known by its fossils. While the theory that\nstrata of like mineral characters were everywhere deposited simultaneously,\nhas been ostensibly abandoned, there has been accepted the theory that in\neach geologic epoch similar plants and animals existed everywhere; and\nthat, therefore, the epoch to which any formation belongs may be known by\nthe organic remains contained in the formation. Though, perhaps, no leading\ngeologist would openly commit himself to an unqualified assertion of this\ntheory, yet it is tacitly assumed in current geological reasoning.\n\nThis theory, however, is scarcely more tenable than the other. It cannot be\nconcluded with any certainty, that formations in which similar organic\nremains are found, were of contemporaneous origin; nor can it be safely\nconcluded that strata containing different organic remains are of different\nages. To most readers these will be startling propositions; but they are\nfully admitted by the highest authorities. Sir Charles Lyell confesses that\nthe test of organic remains must be used \"under very much the same\nrestrictions as the test of mineral composition.\" Sir Henry de la Beche,\nwho variously illustrates this truth, gives, as one instance, the great\nincongruity there must be between the fossils of our carboniferous rocks\nand those of the marine strata deposited at the same period. But though, in\nthe abstract, the danger of basing positive conclusions on evidence derived\nfrom fossils, is clearly recognized; yet, in the concrete, this danger is\ngenerally disregarded. The established conclusions respecting the ages of\nstrata, take but little note of it; and by some geologists it seems\naltogether ignored. Throughout his _Siluria_, Sir R. Murchison habitually\nassumes that the same, or kindred, species, lived in all parts of the Earth\nat the same time. In Russia, in Bohemia, in the United States, in South\nAmerica, strata are classed as belonging to this or that part of the\nSilurian system, because of the similar fossils contained in them--are\nconcluded to be everywhere contemporaneous if they enclose a proportion of\nidentical or allied forms. In Russia the relative position of a stratum is\ninferred from the fact that, along with some Wenlock forms, it yields the\n_Pentamerus oblongus_. Certain crustaceans called Eurypteri, being\ncharacteristic of the Upper Ludlow rock, it is remarked that \"large\nEurypteri occur in a so-called black grey-wacke slate in Westmoreland, in\nOneida County, New York, which will probably be found to be on the parallel\nof the Upper Ludlow rock:\" in which word \"probably,\" we see both how\ndominant is this belief of universal distribution of similar creatures at\nthe same period, and how apt this belief is to make its own proof, by\nraising the expectation that the ages are identical when the forms are\nalike. Besides thus interpreting the formations of Russia, England, and\nAmerica, Sir R. Murchison thus interprets those of the antipodes. Fossils\nfrom Victoria Colony, he agrees with the Government-surveyor in classing as\nof Lower Silurian or Llandovery age: that is, he takes for granted that\nwhen certain crustaceans and mollusks were living in Wales, certain similar\ncrustaceans and mollusks were living in Australia.\n\nYet the improbability of this assumption may be readily shown from Sir R.\nMurchison's own facts. If, as he points out, the crustacean fossils of the\nuppermost Silurian rocks in Lanarkshire are, \"with one doubtful exception,\"\n\"all distinct from any of the forms on the same horizon in England;\" how\ncan it be fairly presumed that the forms existing on the other side of the\nEarth during the Silurian period, were nearly allied to those existing\nhere? Not only, indeed, do Sir R. Murchison's conclusions tacitly assume\nthis doctrine of universal distribution, but he distinctly enunciates it.\n\"The mere presence of a graptolite,\" he says, \"will at once decide that the\nenclosing rock is Silurian;\" and he says this, notwithstanding repeated\nwarnings against such generalizations. During the progress of Geology, it\nhas over and over again happened that a particular fossil, long considered\ncharacteristic of a particular formation, has been afterwards discovered in\nother formations. Until some twelve years ago, Goniatites had not been\nfound lower than the Devonian rocks; but now, in Bohemia, they have been\nfound in rocks classed as Silurian. Quite recently, the Orthoceras,\npreviously supposed to be a type exclusively Palaeozoic, has been detected\nalong with mesozoic Ammonites and Belemnites. Yet hosts of such experiences\nfail to extinguish the assumption, that the age of a stratum may be\ndetermined by the occurrence in it of a single fossil form.\n\nNay, this assumption survives evidence of even a still more destructive\nkind. Referring to the Silurian system in Western Ireland, Sir R. Murchison\nsays, \"in the beds near Maam, Professor Nicol and myself collected remains,\nsome of which would be considered Lower, and others Upper, Silurian;\" and\nhe then names sundry fossils which, in England, belong to the summit of the\nLudlow rocks, or highest Silurian strata; \"some, which elsewhere are known\nonly in rocks of Llandovery age,\" that is, of middle Silurian age; and\nsome, only before known in Lower Silurian strata, not far above the most\nancient fossiliferous beds. Now what do these facts prove? Clearly, they\nprove that species which in Wales are separated by strata more than twenty\nthousand feet deep, and therefore seem to belong to periods far more remote\nfrom each other, were really coexistent. They prove that the mollusks and\ncrinoids held characteristic of early Silurian strata, and supposed to have\nbecome extinct long before the mollusks and crinoids of the later Silurian\nstrata came into existence, were really flourishing at the same time with\nthese last; and that these last possibly date back to as early a period as\nthe first. They prove that not only the mineral characters of sedimentary\nformations, but also the collections of organic forms they contain, depend,\nto a great extent, on local circumstances. They prove that the fossils met\nwith in any series of strata, cannot be taken as representing anything like\nthe whole Flora and Fauna of the period they belong to. In brief, they\nthrow great doubt upon numerous geological generalizations.\n\nNotwithstanding facts like these, and notwithstanding his avowed opinion\nthat the test of organic remains must be used \"under very much the same\nrestrictions as the test of mineral composition,\" Sir Charles Lyell, too,\nbases positive conclusions on this test: even where the community of\nfossils is slight and the distance great. Having decided that in various\nplaces in Europe, middle Eocene strata are distinguished by nummulites; he\ninfers, without any other assigned evidence, that wherever nummulites are\nfound--in Morocco, Algeria, Egypt, in Persia, Scinde, Cutch, Eastern\nBengal, and the frontiers of China--the containing formation is middle\nEocene. And from this inference he draws the following important\ncorollary:--\n\n  \"When we have once arrived at the conviction that the nummulitic\n  formation occupies a middle place in the Eocene series, we are struck\n  with the comparatively modern date to which some of the greatest\n  revolutions in the physical geography of Europe, Asia, and northern\n  Africa must be referred. All the mountain chains, such as the Alps,\n  Pyrenees, Carpathians, and Himalayas, into the composition of whose\n  central and loftiest parts the nummulitic strata enter bodily, could\n  have had no existence till after the middle Eocene\n  period.\"--_Manual_, p. 232.\n\nA still more marked case follows on the next page. Because a certain bed at\nClaiborne in Alabama, which contains \"_four hundred_ species of marine\nshells,\" includes among them the _Cardita planicosta_, \"and _some others_\nidentical with European species, or very nearly allied to them,\" Sir C.\nLyell says it is \"highly probable the Claiborne beds agree in age with the\ncentral or Bracklesham group of England.\" When we find contemporaneity\nsupposed on the strength of a community no greater than that which\nsometimes exists between strata of widely-different ages in the same\ncountry, it seems very much as though the above-quoted caution had been\nforgotten. It appears to be assumed for the occasion, that species which\nhad a wide range in space had a narrow range in time; which is the reverse\nof the fact. The tendency to systematize overrides the evidence, and\nthrusts Nature into a formula too rigid to fit her endless variety.\n\n\"But,\" it may be urged, \"surely, when in different places the order of\nsuperposition, the mineral characters, and the fossils, agree, it may be\nsafely concluded that the formations thus corresponding are equivalents in\ntime. If, for example, the United States display the same succession of\nSilurian, Devonian, and Carboniferous systems, lithologically similar, and\ncharacterized by like fossils, it is a fair inference that these groups of\nstrata were severally deposited in America at the same periods that they\nwere deposited here.\"\n\nOn this position, which seems a strong one, we have, in the first place, to\nremark, that the evidence of correspondence is always more or less\nsuspicious. We have already adverted to the several \"idols\"--if we may use\nBacon's metaphor--to which geologists unconsciously sacrifice, when\ninterpreting the structures of unexplored regions. Carrying with them the\nclassification of strata existing in Europe, and assuming that groups of\nstrata in other parts of the world must answer to some of the groups of\nstrata known here, they are necessarily prone to assert parallelism on\ninsufficient evidence. They scarcely entertain the previous question,\nwhether the formations they are examining have or have not any European\nequivalents; but the question is--with which of the European series shall\nthey be classed?--with which do they most agree?--from which do they differ\nleast? And this being the mode of enquiry, there is apt to result great\nlaxity of interpretation. How lax the interpretation really is, may be\nreadily shown. When strata are discontinuous, as between Europe and\nAmerica, no evidence can be derived from the order of superposition, apart\nfrom mineral characters and organic remains; for, unless strata can be\ncontinuously traced, mineral characters and organic remains are the only\nmeans of classing them as such or such.\n\nAs to the test of mineral characters, we have seen that it is almost\nworthless; and no modern geologist would dare to say it should be relied\non. If the Old Red Sandstone series in mid-England, differs wholly in\nlithological aspect from the equivalent series in South Devon, it is clear\nthat similarities of texture and composition can have no weight in\nassimilating a system of strata in another quarter of the globe to some\nEuropean system. The test of fossils, therefore, is the only one that\nremains; and with how little strictness this test is applied, one case will\nshow. Of forty-six species of British Devonian corals, only six occur in\nAmerica; and this, notwithstanding the wide range which the Anthozoa are\nknown to have. Similarly of the Mollusca and Crinoidea, it appears that,\nwhile there are sundry genera found in America that are found here, there\nare scarcely any of the same species. And Sir Charles Lyell admits that\n\"the difficulty of deciding on the exact parallelism of the New York\nsubdivisions, as above enumerated, with the members of the European\nDevonian, is very great, so few are the species in common.\" Yet it is on\nthe strength of community of fossils, that the whole Devonian series of the\nUnited States is assumed to be contemporaneous with the whole Devonian\nseries of England. And it is partly on the ground that the Devonian of the\nUnited States corresponds in time with our Devonian, that Sir Charles Lyell\nconcludes the superjacent coal-measures of the two countries to be of the\nsame age. Is it not, then, as we said, that the evidence in these cases is\nvery suspicious?\n\nShould it be replied, as it may fairly be, that this correspondence from\nwhich the synchronism of distant formations is inferred, is not a\ncorrespondence between particular species or particular genera, but between\nthe general characters of the contained assemblages of fossils--between the\n_facies_ of the two Faunas; the rejoinder is, that though such\ncorrespondence is a stronger evidence of synchronism it is still an\ninsufficient one. To infer synchronism from such correspondence, involves\nthe postulate that throughout each geologic era there has habitually\nexisted a recognizable similarity between the groups of organic forms\ninhabiting all the different parts of the Earth; and that the causes which\nhave in one part of the Earth changed the organic forms into those which\ncharacterize the next era, have simultaneously acted in all other parts of\nthe Earth, in such ways as to produce parallel changes of their organic\nforms. Now this is not only a large assumption to make; but it is an\nassumption contrary to probability. The probability is, that the causes\nwhich have changed Faunas have been local rather than universal; that hence\nwhile the Faunas of some regions have been rapidly changing, those of\nothers have been almost quiescent; and that when such others have been\nchanged, it has been, not in such ways as to maintain parallelism, but in\nsuch ways as to produce divergence.\n\nEven supposing, however, that districts some hundreds of miles apart,\nfurnished groups of strata that completely agreed in their order of\nsuperposition, their mineral characters, and their fossils, we should still\nhave inadequate proof of contemporaneity. For there are conditions, very\nlikely to occur, under which such groups might differ widely in age. If\nthere be a continent of which the strata crop out on the surface obliquely\nto the line of coast--running, say, west-northwest, while the coast runs\neast and west--it is clear that each group of strata will crop out on the\nbeach at a particular part of the coast; that further west the next group\nof strata will crop out on the beach; and so continuously. As the\nlocalization of marine plants and animals is in a considerable degree\ndetermined by the nature of the rocks and their detritus, it follows that\neach part of this coast will have its more or less distinct Flora and\nFauna. What now must result from the action of the waves in the course of a\ngeologic epoch? As the sea makes slow inroads on the land, the place at\nwhich each group of strata crops out on the beach will gradually move\ntowards the west: its distinctive fish, mollusks, crustaceans, and\nsea-weeds, migrating with it. Further, the detritus of each of these groups\nof strata will, as the point of outcrop moves westwards, be deposited over\nthe detritus of the group in advance of it. And the consequence of these\nactions, carried on for one of those enormous periods required for geologic\nchanges, will be that, corresponding to each eastern stratum, there will\narise a stratum far to the west which, though occupying the same position\nrelatively to other beds, formed of like materials, and containing like\nfossils, will yet be perhaps a million years later in date.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut the illegitimacy, or at any rate the great doubtfulness, of many\ncurrent geological inferences, is best seen when we contemplate terrestrial\nchanges now going on: and ask how far such inferences are countenanced by\nthem. If we carry out rigorously the modern method of interpreting\ngeological phenomena, which Sir Charles Lyell has done so much to\nestablish--that of referring them to causes like those at present in\naction--we cannot fail to see how improbable are sundry of the received\nconclusions.\n\nAlong each line of shore that is being worn away by the waves, there are\nbeing formed mud, sand, and pebbles. This detritus, spread over the\nneighbouring sea-bottom, has, in each locality, a more or less special\ncharacter; determined by the nature of the strata destroyed. In the English\nChannel it is not the same as in the Irish Channel; on the east coast of\nIreland it is not the same as on the west coast; and so throughout. At the\nmouth of each great river, there is being deposited sediment differing more\nor less from that of other rivers in colour and quality; forming strata\nthat are here red, there yellow, and elsewhere brown, grey, or dirty white.\nBesides which various formations, going on in deltas and along shores,\nthere are some much wider and still more contrasted formations. At the\nbottom of the AEgaean Sea, there is accumulating a bed of Pteropod shells,\nwhich will eventually, no doubt, become a calcareous rock. For some\nhundreds of thousands of square miles, the ocean-bed between Great Britain\nand North America, is being covered with a stratum of chalk; and over large\nareas in the Pacific, there are going on deposits of coralline limestone.\nThus, throughout the Earth, there are at this moment being produced an\nimmense number of strata differing from each other in lithological\ncharacters. Name at random any one part of the sea-bottom, and ask whether\nthe deposit there taking place is like the deposit taking place at some\ndistant part of the sea-bottom, and the almost-certainly correct answer\nwill be--No. The chances are not in favour of similarity, but very greatly\nagainst it.\n\nIn the order of superposition of strata there is occurring a like variety.\nEach region of the Earth's surface has its special history of elevations,\nsubsidences, periods of rest; and this history in no case fits\nchronologically with the history of any other portion. River deltas are now\nbeing thrown down on formations of quite different ages. While here there\nhas been deposited a series of beds many hundreds of feet thick, there has\nelsewhere been deposited but a single bed of fine mud. While one region of\nthe Earth's crust, continuing for a vast epoch above the surface of the\nocean, bears record of no changes save those resulting from denudation;\nanother region of the Earth's crust gives proof of various changes of\nlevel, with their several resulting masses of stratified detritus. If\nanything is to be judged from current processes, we must infer, not only\nthat everywhere the succession of sedimentary formations differs more or\nless from the succession elsewhere; but also that in each place, there\nexist groups of strata to which many other places have no equivalents.\n\nWith respect to the organic bodies imbedded in formations now in progress,\nthe like truth is equally manifest, if not more manifest. Even along the\nsame coast, within moderate distances, the forms of life differ very\nconsiderably; much more on coasts that are remote from each other. Again,\ndissimilar creatures that are living together near the same shore, do not\nleave their remains in the same beds of sediment. For instance, at the\nbottom of the Adriatic, where the prevailing currents cause the deposits to\nbe here of mud, and there of calcareous matter, it is proved that different\nspecies of co-existing shells are being buried in these respective\nformations. On our own coasts, the marine remains found a few miles from\nshore, in banks where fish congregate, are different from those found close\nto the shore, where only littoral species flourish. A large proportion of\naquatic creatures have structures that do not admit of fossilization; while\nof the rest, the great majority are destroyed, when dead, by the various\nkinds of scavengers that creep among the rocks and weeds. So that no one\ndeposit near our shores can contain anything like a true representation of\nthe Fauna of the surrounding sea; much less of the co-existing Faunas of\nother seas in the same latitude; and still less of the Faunas of seas in\ndistant latitudes. Were it not that the assertion seems needful, it would\nbe almost absurd to say, that the organic remains now being buried in the\nDogger Bank, can tell us next to nothing about the fish, crustaceans,\nmollusks, and corals that are being buried in the Bay of Bengal.\n\nStill stronger is the argument in the case of terrestrial life. With more\nnumerous and greater contrasts between the plants and animals of remote\nplaces, there is a far more imperfect registry of them. Schouw marks out on\nthe Earth more than twenty botanical regions, occupied by groups of forms\nso far distinct from each other, that, if fossilized, geologists would\nscarcely be disposed to refer them all to the same period. Of Faunas, the\nArctic differs from the Temperate; the Temperate from the Tropical; and the\nSouth Temperate from the North Temperate. Nay, in the South Temperate Zone\nitself, the two regions of South Africa and South America are unlike in\ntheir mammals, birds, reptiles, fishes, mollusks, insects. The shells and\nbones now lying at the bottoms of lakes and estuaries in these several\nregions, have certainly not that similarity which is usually looked for in\nthose of contemporaneous strata; and the recent forms exhumed in any one of\nthese regions would very untruly represent the present Flora and Fauna of\nthe Earth. In conformity with the current style of geological reasoning, an\nexhaustive examination of deposits in the Arctic circle, might be held to\nprove that though at this period there were sundry mammals existing, there\nwere no reptiles; while the absence of mammals in the deposits of the\nGalapagos Archipelago, where there are plenty of reptiles, might be held to\nprove the reverse. And at the same time, from the formations extending for\ntwo thousand miles along the great barrier-reef of Australia--formations in\nwhich are imbedded nothing but corals, echinoderms, mollusks, crustaceans,\nand fish, along with an occasional turtle, or bird, or cetacean, it might\nbe inferred that there lived in our epoch neither terrestrial reptiles nor\nterrestrial mammals.\n\nThe mention of Australia, indeed, suggests an illustration which, even\nalone, would amply prove our case. The Fauna of this region differs widely\nfrom any that is found elsewhere. On land all the indigenous mammals,\nexcept bats, belong to the lowest, or implacental division; and the insects\nare singularly different from those found elsewhere. The surrounding seas\ncontain numerous forms that are more or less strange; and among the fish\nthere exists a species of shark, which is the only living representative of\na genus that flourished in early geologic epochs. If, now, the modern\nfossiliferous deposits of Australia were to be examined by one ignorant of\nthe existing Australian Fauna; and if he were to reason in the usual\nmanner; he would be very unlikely to class these deposits with those of the\npresent time. How, then, can we place confidence in the tacit assumption\nthat certain formations in remote parts of the Earth are referable to the\nsame period, because the organic remains contained in them display a\ncertain community of character? or that certain others are referable to\ndifferent periods, because the _facies_ of their Faunas are different?\n\n\"But,\" it will be replied, \"in past eras the same, or similar, organic\nforms were more widely distributed than now.\" It may be so; but the\nevidence adduced by no means proves it. The argument by which this\nconclusion is reached, runs a risk of being quoted as an example of\nreasoning in a circle. As already pointed out, between formations in remote\nregions there is no means of ascertaining equivalence but by fossils. If,\nthen, the contemporaneity of remote formations is concluded from the\nlikeness of their fossils; how can it be said that similar plants and\nanimals were once more widely distributed, because they are found in\ncontemporaneous strata in remote regions? Is not the fallacy manifest? Even\nsupposing there were no such fatal objection as this, the evidence commonly\nassigned would still be insufficient. For we must bear in mind that the\ncommunity of organic remains commonly thought sufficient for inferring\ncorrespondence in time, is a very imperfect community. When the compared\nsedimentary beds are far apart, it is scarcely expected that there will be\nmany species common to the two: it is enough if there be discovered a\nconsiderable number of common genera. Now had it been proved that,\nthroughout geologic time, each genus lived but for a short period--a period\nmeasured by a single group of strata--something might be inferred. But what\nif we learn that many of the same genera continued to exist throughout\nenormous epochs, measured by several vast systems of strata? \"Among\nmolluscs, the genera _Avicula_, _Modiola_, _Terebratula_, _Lingula_, and\n_Orbicula_, are found from the Silurian rocks upwards to the present day.\"\nIf, then, between the lowest fossiliferous formations and the most recent,\nthere exists this degree of community; must we not infer that there will\nprobably often exist a degree of community between strata that are far from\ncontemporaneous?\n\nThus the reasoning from which it is concluded that similar organic forms\nwere once more widely spread, is doubly fallacious; and, consequently, the\nclassifications of foreign strata based on this conclusion are\nuntrustworthy. Judging from the present distribution of life, we can\nscarcely expect to find similar remains in geographically remote strata of\nthe same age; and where, between the fossils of geographically remote\nstrata, we do find much similarity, it is probably often due rather to\nlikeness of conditions than to contemporaneity. If from causes and effects\nsuch as we now witness, we reason back to the causes and effects of past\nepochs, we discover inadequate warrant for sundry of the received\ndoctrines. Seeing, as we do, that in large areas of the Pacific this is a\nperiod characterized by abundance of corals; that in the North Atlantic it\nis a period in which a great chalk-deposit is being formed; and that in the\nvalley of the Mississippi it is a period of new coal-basins--seeing also,\nas we do, that in one extensive continent this is peculiarly an era of\nimplacental mammals, and that in another extensive continent it is\npeculiarly an era of placental mammals; we have good reason to hesitate\nbefore accepting these sweeping generalizations which are based on a\ncursory examination of strata occupying but a tenth part of the Earth's\nsurface.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt the outset, this article was to have been a review of the works of Hugh\nMiller; but it has grown into something much more general. Nevertheless,\nthe remaining two doctrines which we propose to criticise, may be\nconveniently treated in connection with his name, as that of one who fully\ncommitted himself to them. And first, a few words with regard to his\nposition.\n\nThat he was a man whose life was one of meritorious achievement, every one\nknows. That he was a diligent and successful working geologist, scarcely\nneeds saying. That with indomitable perseverance he struggled up from\nobscurity to a place in the world of literature and science, shows him to\nhave been highly endowed in character and intelligence. And that he had a\nremarkable power of presenting his facts and arguments in an attractive\nform, a glance at any of his books will quickly prove. By all means, let us\nrespect him as a man of activity and sagacity, joined with a large amount\nof poetry. But while saying this we must add, that his reputation stands by\nno means so high in the scientific world as in the world at large. Partly\nfrom the fact that our Scotch neighbours are in the habit of blowing the\ntrumpet rather loudly before their notabilities--partly because the\ncharming style in which his books are written has gained him a large circle\nof readers--partly, perhaps, through a praiseworthy sympathy with him as a\nself-made man; Hugh Miller has met with an amount of applause which, little\nas we wish to diminish it, must not be allowed to blind the public to his\ndefects as a man of science.\n\nThe truth is, he was so far committed to a foregone conclusion, that he\ncould not become a philosophical geologist. He might be aptly described as\na theologian studying geology. The dominant idea with which he wrote, may\nbe seen in the titles of his books--_Law versus Miracle_,--_Footprints of\nthe Creator_,--_The Testimony of the Rocks_. Regarding geological facts as\nevidence for or against certain religious conclusions, it was scarcely\npossible for him to deal with geological facts impartially. His ruling aim\nwas to disprove the Development Hypothesis, the assumed implications of\nwhich were repugnant to him; and in proportion to the strength of his\nfeeling, was the one-sidedness of his reasoning. He admitted that \"God\nmight as certainly have _originated_ the species by a law of development,\nas he _maintains_ it by a law of development; the existence of a First\nGreat Cause is as perfectly compatible with the one scheme as with the\nother.\" Nevertheless, he considered the hypothesis at variance with\nChristianity; and therefore combated with it. He apparently overlooked the\nfact that the doctrines of geology in general, as held by himself, had been\nrejected by many on similar grounds; and that he had himself been\nrepeatedly attacked for his anti-Christian teachings. He seems not to have\nperceived that, just as his antagonists were wrong in condemning as\nirreligious, theories which he saw were not irreligious; so might he be\nwrong in condemning, on like grounds, the Theory of Evolution. In brief, he\nfell short of that highest faith, which knows that all truths must\nharmonize; and which is, therefore, content trustfully to follow the\nevidence whithersoever it leads.\n\nOf course it is impossible to criticize his works without entering on this\ngreat question to which he chiefly devoted himself. The two remaining\ndoctrines to be here discussed, bear directly on this question; and, as\nabove said, we propose to treat them in connection with Hugh Miller's name,\nbecause, throughout his reasonings, he assumes their truth. Let it not be\nsupposed, however, that we shall aim to prove what he has aimed to\ndisprove. While we purpose showing that his arguments against the\nDevelopment Hypothesis are based on invalid assumptions; we do not purpose\nshowing that the opposing arguments are based on valid assumptions. We hope\nto make it apparent that the geological evidence at present obtained, is\ninsufficient for either side; further, that there seems little probability\nof sufficient evidence ever being obtained; and that if the question is\neventually decided, it must be decided on other than geological data.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe first of the current doctrines to which we have just referred, is, that\nthere occur in the records of former life on our planet, certain great\nblanks--that though, generally, the succession of fossil forms is tolerably\ncontinuous, yet that at two places there occur wide gaps in the series\nwhence it is inferred that, on at least two occasions, the previously\nexisting inhabitants of the Earth were almost wholly destroyed, and a\ndifferent class of inhabitants created. Comparing the general life on the\nEarth to a thread, Hugh Miller says:--\n\n  \"It is continuous from the present time up to the commencement of\n  the Tertiary period; and then so abrupt a break occurs, that, with\n  the exception of the microscopic diatomaceae to which I last evening\n  referred, and of one shell and one coral, not a single species\n  crossed the gap. On its further or remoter side, however, where the\n  Secondary division closes, the intermingling of species again begins,\n  and runs on till the commencement of this great Secondary division;\n  and then, just where the Palaeozoic division closes, we find another\n  abrupt break, crossed, if crossed at all,--for there still exists\n  some doubt on the subject,--by but two species of plant.\"\n\nThese breaks are considered to imply actual new creations on the surface of\nour planet; not only by Hugh Miller, but by the majority of geologists. And\nthe terms Palaeozoic, Mesozoic, and Cainozoic, are used to indicate these\nthree successive systems of life. It is true that some accept this belief\nwith caution: knowing how geologic research has been all along tending to\nfill up what were once thought wide breaks. Sir Charles Lyell points out\nthat \"the hiatus which exists in Great Britain between the fossils of the\nLias and those of the Magnesian Limestone, is supplied in Germany by the\nrich fauna and flora of the Muschelkalk, Keuper, and Bunter Sandstein,\nwhich we know to be of a date precisely intermediate.\" Again he remarks\nthat \"until lately the fossils of the coal-measures were separated from\nthose of the antecedent Silurian group by a very abrupt and decided line of\ndemarcation; but recent discoveries have brought to light in Devonshire,\nBelgium, the Eifel, and Westphalia, the remains of a fauna of an\nintervening period.\" And once more, \"we have also in like manner had some\nsuccess of late years in diminishing the hiatus which still separates the\nCretaceous and Eocene periods in Europe.\" To which let us add that since\nHugh Miller penned the passage above quoted, the second of the great gaps\nhe refers to has been very considerably narrowed by the discovery of strata\ncontaining Palaeozoic genera and Mesozoic genera intermingled. Nevertheless,\nthe occurrence of two great revolutions in the Earth's Flora and Fauna\nappears still to be held by many; and geologic nomenclature habitually\nassumes it.\n\nBefore seeking a solution of these phenomena, let us glance at the several\nminor causes that produce breaks in the geological succession of organic\nforms: taking first, the more general ones which modify climate, and,\ntherefore, the distribution of life. Among these may be noted one which has\nnot, we believe, been named by writers on the subject. We mean that\nresulting from a certain slow astronomic rhythm, by which the northern and\nsouthern hemispheres are alternately subject to greater extremes of\ntemperature. In consequence of the slight ellipticity of its orbit, the\nEarth's distance from the sun varies to the extent of some 3,000,000 of\nmiles. At present, the aphelion occurs at the time of our northern summer;\nand the perihelion during the summer of the southern hemisphere. In\nconsequence, however, of that slow movement of the Earth's axis which\nproduces the precession of the equinoxes, this state of things will in time\nbe reversed: the Earth will be nearest to the sun during the summer of the\nnorthern hemisphere, and furthest from it during the southern summer or\nnorthern winter. The period required to complete the slow movement\nproducing these changes, is nearly 26,000 years; and were there no\nmodifying process, the two hemispheres would alternately experience this\ncoincidence of summer with the least distance from the sun, during a period\nof 13,000 years. But there is also a still slower change in the direction\nof the axis major of the Earth's orbit; from which it results that the\nalternation we have described is completed in about 21,000 years. That is\nto say, if at a given time the Earth is nearest to the sun at our\nmid-summer, and furthest from the sun at our mid-winter: then, in 10,500\nyears afterwards, it will be furthest from the sun at our mid-summer, and\nnearest at our mid-winter.\n\nNow the difference between the distances from the sun at the two extremes\nof this alternation, amounts to one-thirtieth; and hence, the difference\nbetween the quantities of heat received from the sun on a summer's day\nunder these opposite conditions amounts to one-fifteenth. Estimating this,\nnot with reference to the zero of our thermometers, but with reference to\nthe temperature of the celestial spaces, Sir John Herschel calculates \"23 deg.\nFahrenheit as the least variation of temperature under such circumstances\nwhich can reasonably be attributed to the actual variation of the sun's\ndistance.\" Thus, then, each hemisphere has at a certain epoch, a short\nsummer of extreme heat, followed by a long and very cold winter. Through\nthe slow change in the direction of the Earth's axis, these extremes are\ngradually mitigated. And at the end of 10,500 years, there is reached the\nopposite state--a long and moderate summer, with a short and mild winter.\nAt present, in consequence of the predominance of sea in the southern\nhemisphere, the extremes to which its astronomical conditions subject it,\nare much ameliorated; while the great proportion of land in the northern\nhemisphere, tends to exaggerate such contrast as now exists in it between\nwinter and summer: whence it results that the climates of the two\nhemispheres are not widely unlike. But 10,000 years hence, the northern\nhemisphere will undergo annual variations of temperature far more marked\nthan now.\n\nIn the last edition of his _Outlines of Astronomy_, Sir John Herschel\nrecognizes this as an element in geological processes: regarding it as\npossibly a part-cause of those climatic changes indicated by the records of\nthe Earth's past. That it has had much to do with the larger changes of\nclimate of which we have evidence, seems unlikely, since there is reason to\nthink that these have been far slower and more lasting; but that it must\nhave entailed a rhythmical exaggeration and mitigation of the climates\notherwise produced, seems beyond question. And it seems also beyond\nquestion that there must have been a consequent rhythmical change in the\ndistribution of organisms--a rhythmical change to which we here wish to\ndraw attention, as one cause of minor breaks in the succession of fossil\nremains. Each species of plant and animal, has certain limits of heat and\ncold within which only it can exist; and these limits in a great degree\ndetermine its geographical position. It will not spread north of a certain\nlatitude, because it cannot bear a more northern winter, nor south of a\ncertain latitude, because the summer heat is too great; or else it is\nindirectly restrained from spreading further by the effect of temperature\non the humidity of the air, or on the distribution of the organisms it\nlives upon.\n\nBut now, what will result from a slow alteration of climate, produced as\nabove described? Supposing the period we set out from is that in which the\ncontrast of seasons is least marked, it is manifest that during the\nprogress towards the period of the most violent contrast, each species of\nplant and animal will gradually change its limits of distribution--will be\ndriven back, here by the winter's increasing cold, and there by the\nsummer's increasing heat--will retire into those localities that are still\nfit for it. Thus during 10,000 years, each species will ebb away from\ncertain regions it was inhabiting; and during the succeeding 10,000 years\nwill flow back into those regions. From the strata there forming, its\nremains will disappear; they will be absent from some of the supposed\nstrata; and will be found in strata higher up. But in what shapes will they\nre-appear? Exposed during the 21,000 years of their slow recession and\ntheir slow return, to changing conditions of life, they are likely to have\nundergone modifications; and will probably re-appear with slight\ndifferences of constitution and perhaps of form--will be new varieties or\nperhaps new sub-species.\n\nTo this cause of minor breaks in the succession of organic forms--a cause\non which we have dwelt because it has not been taken into account--we must\nadd sundry others. Besides these periodically-recurring alterations of\nclimate, there are the irregular ones produced by re-distributions of land\nand sea; and these, sometimes less, sometimes greater, in degree, than the\nrhythmical changes, must, like them, cause in each region the ebb and flow\nof species; and consequent breaks, small or large as the case may be, in\nthe palaeontological series. Other and more special geological changes must\nproduce other and more local blanks in the succession of fossils. By some\ninland elevation the natural drainage of a continent is modified; and\ninstead of the sediment it previously brought down to the sea, a great\nriver begins to bring down sediment unfavourable to various plants and\nanimals living in its delta: wherefore these disappear from the locality,\nperhaps to re-appear in a changed form after a long epoch. Upheavals or\nsubsidences of shores or sea-bottoms, involving deviations of marine\ncurrents, must remove the habitats of many species to which such currents\nare salutary or injurious; and further, this re-distribution of currents\nmust alter the places of sedimentary deposits, and so stop the burying of\norganic remains in some localities, and commence it in others. Had we\nspace, many more such causes of blanks in our palaeontological records might\nbe added. But it is needless here to enumerate them. They are admirably\nexplained and illustrated in Sir Charles Lyell's _Principles of Geology_.\n\nNow, if these minor revolutions of the Earth's surface produce minor breaks\nin the series of fossilized remains; must not great revolutions produce\ngreat breaks? If a local upheaval or subsidence causes throughout its small\narea the absence of some links in the chain of fossil forms; does it not\nfollow that an upheaval or subsidence extending over a large part of the\nEarth's surface, must cause the absence of a great number of such links\nthroughout a very wide area?\n\nWhen during a long epoch a continent, slowly subsiding, gives place to a\nfar-spreading ocean some miles in depth, at the bottom of which no deposits\nfrom rivers or abraded shores can be thrown down; and when, after some\nenormous period, this ocean-bottom is gradually elevated and becomes the\nsite of new strata; it is clear that the fossils contained in these new\nstrata are likely to have but little in common with the fossils of the\nstrata below them. Take, in illustration, the case of the North Atlantic.\nWe have already named the fact that between this country and the United\nStates, the ocean-bottom is being covered with a deposit of chalk--a\ndeposit that has been forming, probably, ever since there occurred that\ngreat depression of the Earth's crust from which the Atlantic resulted in\nremote geologic times. This chalk consists of the minute shells of\nForaminifera, sprinkled with remains of small Entomostraca, and probably a\nfew Pteropod-shells: though the sounding lines have not yet brought up any\nof these last. Thus, in so far as all high forms of life are concerned,\nthis new chalk-formation must be a blank. At rare intervals, perhaps, a\npolar bear drifted on an iceberg, may have its bones scattered over the\nbed; or a dead, decaying whale may similarly leave traces. But such remains\nmust be so rare, that this new chalk-formation, if visible, might be\nexamined for a century before any of them were disclosed. If now, some\nmillions of years hence, the Atlantic-bed should be raised, and estuary or\nshore deposits laid upon it, these deposits would contain remains of a\nFlora and Fauna so distinct from everything below them, as to appear like a\nnew creation.\n\nThus, along with continuity of life on the Earth's surface, there not only\n_may_ be, but there _must_ be, great gaps, in the series of fossils; and\nhence these gaps are no evidence against the doctrine of Evolution.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne other current assumption remains to be criticized; and it is the one on\nwhich, more than on any other, depends the view taken respecting the\nquestion of development.\n\nFrom the beginning of the controversy, the arguments for and against have\nturned upon the evidence of progression in organic forms, found in the\nascending series of our sedimentary formations. On the one hand, those who\ncontend that higher organisms have been evolved out of lower, joined with\nthose who contend that successively higher organisms have been created at\nsuccessively later periods, appeal for proof to the facts of Palaeontology;\nwhich, they say, countenance their views. On the other hand, the\nUniformitarians, who not only reject the hypothesis of development, but\ndeny that the modern forms of life are higher than the ancient ones, reply\nthat the Palaeontological evidence is at present very incomplete; that\nthough we have not yet found remains of highly-organized creatures in\nstrata of the greatest antiquity, we must not assume that no such creatures\nexisted when those strata were deposited; and that, probably, geological\nresearch will eventually disclose them.\n\nIt must be admitted that thus far, the evidence has gone in favour of the\nlatter party. Geological discovery has year after year shown the small\nvalue of negative facts. The conviction that there are no traces of higher\norganisms in earlier strata, has resulted not from the absence of such\nremains, but from incomplete examination. At p. 460 of his _Manual of\nElementary Geology_, Sir Charles Lyell gives a list in illustration of\nthis. It appears that in 1709, fishes were not known lower than the Permian\nsystem. In 1793 they were found in the subjacent Carboniferous system; in\n1828 in the Devonian; in 1840 in the Upper Silurian. Of reptiles, we read\nthat in 1710 the lowest known were in the Permian; in 1844 they were\ndetected in the Carboniferous; and in 1852 in the Upper Devonian. While of\nthe Mammalia the list shows that in 1798 none had been discovered below the\nmiddle Eocene; but that in 1818 they were discovered in the Lower Oolite;\nand in 1847 in the Upper Trias.\n\nThe fact is, however, that both parties set out with an inadmissible\npostulate. Of the Uniformitarians, not only such writers as Hugh Miller,\nbut also such as Sir Charles Lyell,[T] reason as though we had found the\nearliest, or something like the earliest, strata. Their antagonists,\nwhether defenders of the Development Hypothesis or simply Progressionists,\nalmost uniformly do the like. Sir R. Murchison, who is a Progressionist,\ncalls the lowest fossiliferous strata, \"Protozoic.\" Prof. Ansted uses the\nsame term. Whether avowedly or not, all the disputants stand on this\nassumption as their common ground.\n\n  [T] Sir Charles Lyell is no longer to be classed among\n      Uniformitarians. With rare and admirable candour he has, since\n      this was written, yielded to the arguments of Mr. Darwin.\n\nYet is this assumption indefensible, as some who make it very well know.\nFacts may be cited against it which show that it is a more than\nquestionable one--that it is a highly improbable one; while the evidence\nassigned in its favour will not bear criticism.\n\n\nBecause in Bohemia, Great Britain, and portions of North America, the\nlowest unmetamorphosed strata yet discovered, contain but slight traces of\nlife, Sir R. Murchison conceives that they were formed while yet few, if\nany, plants or animals had been created; and, therefore, classes them as\n\"Azoic.\" His own pages, however, show the illegitimacy of the conclusion\nthat there existed at that period no considerable amount of life. Such\ntraces of life as have been found in the Longmynd rocks, for many years\nconsidered unfossiliferous, have been found in some of the lowest beds; and\nthe twenty thousand feet of superposed beds, still yield no organic\nremains. If now these superposed strata throughout a depth of four miles,\nare without fossils, though the strata over which they lie prove that life\nhad commenced; what becomes of Sir R. Murchison's inference? At page 189 of\n_Siluria_, a still more conclusive fact will be found. The \"Glengariff\ngrits,\" and other accompanying strata there described as 13,500 feet thick,\ncontain no signs of contemporaneous life. Yet Sir R. Murchison refers them\nto the Devonian period--a period that had a large and varied marine Fauna.\nHow then, from the absence of fossils in the Longmynd beds and their\nequivalents, can we conclude that the Earth was \"azoic\" when they were\nformed?\n\n\"But,\" it may be asked, \"if living creatures then existed, why do we not\nfind fossiliferous strata of that age, or an earlier age?\" One reply is,\nthat the non-existence of such strata is but a negative fact--we have not\nfound them. And considering how little we know even of the two-fifths of\nthe Earth's surface now above the sea, and how absolutely ignorant we are\nof the three-fifths below the sea, it is rash to say that no such strata\nexist. But the chief reply is, that these records of the Earth's earlier\nhistory have been in great part destroyed, by agencies that are ever\ntending to destroy such records.\n\nIt is an established geological doctrine, that sedimentary strata are\nliable to be changed, more or less completely, by igneous action. The rocks\noriginally classed as \"transition,\" because they were intermediate in\ncharacter between the igneous rocks found below them, and the sedimentary\nstrata found above them, are now known to be nothing else than sedimentary\nstrata altered in texture and appearance by the intense heat of adjacent\nmolten matter; and hence are renamed \"metamorphic rocks.\" Modern researches\nhave shown, too, that these metamorphic rocks are not, as was once\nsupposed, all of the same age. Besides primary and secondary strata that\nhave been transformed by igneous action, there are similarly-changed\ndeposits of tertiary origin; and that, even for a quarter of a mile from\nthe point of contact with neighbouring granite. By this process fossils are\nof course destroyed. \"In some cases,\" says Sir Charles Lyell, \"dark\nlimestones, replete with shells and corals, have been turned into white\nstatuary marble, and hard clays, containing vegetable or other remains,\ninto slates called mica-schist or hornblende-schist; every vestige of the\norganic bodies having been obliterated.\"\n\nAgain, it is fast becoming an acknowledged truth, that igneous rock, of\nwhatever kind, is the product of sedimentary strata that have been\ncompletely melted. Granite and gneiss, which are of like chemical\ncomposition, have been shown, in various cases, to pass one into the other:\nas at Valorsine, near Mont Blanc, where the two, in contact, are observed\nto \"both undergo a modification of mineral character. The granite still\nremaining unstratified, becomes charged with green particles; and the\ntalcose gneiss assumes a granitiform structure without losing its\nstratification.\" In the Aberdeen-granite, lumps of unmelted gneiss are\nfrequently found; and we can ourselves bear witness that on the banks of\nLoch Sunart, there is ample proof that the granite of that region, when it\nwas molten, contained incompletely-fused clots of sedimentary strata. Nor\nis this all. Fifty years ago, it was thought that all granitic rocks were\nprimitive, or existed before any sedimentary strata; but it is now \"no easy\ntask to point out a single mass of granite demonstrably more ancient than\nall the known fossiliferous deposits.\"\n\nIn brief, accumulated evidence clearly shows, that by contact with, or\nproximity to, the molten matter of the Earth's nucleus, all beds of\nsediment are liable to be actually melted, or partially fused, or so heated\nas to agglutinate their particles; and that according to the temperature\nthey have been raised to, and the circumstances under which they cool, they\nassume the forms of granite, porphyry, trap, gneiss, or rock otherwise\naltered. Further, it is manifest that though strata of various ages have\nbeen thus changed, yet that the most ancient strata have been so changed to\nthe greatest extent: both because they have habitually lain nearer to the\ncentre of igneous agency; and because they have been for a longer period\nliable to the effects of this agency. Whence it follows, that sedimentary\nstrata passing a certain antiquity, are unlikely to be found in an\nunmetamorphosed state; and that strata much earlier than those are certain\nto have been melted up. Thus if, throughout a past of indefinite duration,\nthere had been at work those aqueous and igneous agencies which we see\nstill at work, the state of the Earth's crust might be just what we find\nit. We have no evidence which puts a limit to the period throughout which\nthis formation and destruction of strata has been going on. For aught the\nfacts prove, it may have been going on for ten times the period measured by\nour whole series of sedimentary deposits.\n\nBesides having, in the present appearances of the Earth's crust, no data\nfor fixing a commencement to these processes--besides finding that the\nevidence permits us to assume such commencement to have been inconceivably\nremote, as compared even with the vast eras of geology; we are not without\npositive grounds for inferring the inconceivable remoteness of such\ncommencement. Modern geology has established truths which are\nirreconcilable with the belief that the formation and destruction of strata\nbegan when the Cambrian rocks were formed; or at anything like so recent a\ntime. One fact from _Siluria_ will suffice. Sir R. Murchison estimates the\nvertical thickness of Silurian strata in Wales, at from 26,000 to 27,000\nfeet, or about five miles; and if to this we add the vertical depth of the\nCambrian strata, on which the Silurians lie conformably, there results, on\nthe lowest computation, a total depth of seven miles.\n\nNow it is held by geologists, that this vast accumulation of strata must\nhave been deposited in an area of gradual subsidence. These strata could\nnot have been thus laid on each other in regular order, unless the Earth's\ncrust had been at that place sinking, either continuously or by very small\nsteps. Such an immense subsidence, however, must have been impossible\nwithout a crust of great thickness. The Earth's molten nucleus tends ever,\nwith enormous force, to assume the form of a regular oblate spheroid. Any\ndepression of its crust below the surface of equilibrium, and any elevation\nof its crust above that surface, have to withstand immense resistance. It\nfollows inevitably that, with a thin crust, nothing but small elevations\nand subsidences would be possible; and that, conversely, a subsidence of\nseven miles implies a crust of comparatively great strength, or, in other\nwords, of great thickness. Indeed, if we compare this inferred subsidence\nin the Silurian period, with such elevations and depressions as our\nexisting continents and oceans display, we see no evidence that the Earth's\ncrust was appreciably thinner then than now. What are the implications? If,\nas geologists generally admit, the Earth's crust has resulted from that\nslow cooling which is even still going on--if we see no sign that at the\ntime when the earliest Cambrian strata were formed, this crust was\nappreciably thinner than now; we are forced to conclude that the era during\nwhich it acquired that great thickness possessed in the Cambrian period,\nwas enormous as compared with the interval between the Cambrian period and\nour own. But during the incalculable series of epochs thus inferred, there\nexisted an ocean, tides, winds, waves, rain, rivers. The agencies by which\nthe denudation of continents and filling up of seas have all along been\ncarried on, were as active then as now. Endless successions of strata must\nhave been formed. And when we ask--Where are they? Nature's obvious reply\nis--They have been destroyed by that igneous action to which so great a\npart of our oldest-known strata owe their fusion or metamorphosis.\n\nOnly the last chapter of the Earth's history has come down to us. The many\nprevious chapters, stretching back to a time immeasurably remote, have been\nburnt; and with them all the records of life we may presume they contained.\nThe greater part of the evidence which might have served to settle the\nDevelopment-controversy, is for ever lost; and on neither side can the\narguments derived from Geology be conclusive.\n\n\"But how happen there to be such evidences of progression as exist?\" it may\nbe asked. \"How happens it that, in ascending from the most ancient strata\nto the most recent strata, we do find a succession of organic forms, which,\nhowever irregularly, carries us from lower to higher?\" This question seems\ndifficult to answer. Nevertheless, there is reason for thinking that\nnothing can be safely inferred from the apparent progression here cited.\nAnd the illustration which shows as much, will, we believe, also show how\nlittle trust is to be placed in certain geological generalizations that\nappear to be well established. With this somewhat elaborate illustration,\nto which we now pass, our criticisms may fitly conclude.\n\nLet us suppose that in a region now covered by wide ocean, there begins one\nof those great and gradual upheavals by which new continents are formed. To\nbe precise, let us say that in the South Pacific, midway between New\nZealand and Patagonia, the sea-bottom has been little by little thrust up\ntowards the surface, and is about to emerge. What will be the successive\nphenomena, geological and biological, which are likely to occur before this\nemerging sea-bottom has become another Europe or Asia?\n\nIn the first place, such portions of the incipient land as are raised to\nthe level of the waves, will be rapidly denuded by them: their soft\nsubstance will be torn up by the breakers, carried away by the local\ncurrents, and deposited in neighbouring deeper water. Successive small\nupheavals will bring new and larger areas within reach of the waves; fresh\nportions will each time be removed from the surfaces previously denuded;\nand further, some of the newly-formed strata, being elevated nearly to the\nlevel of the water, will be washed away and re-deposited. In course of\ntime, the harder formations of the upraised sea-bottom will be uncovered.\nThese being less easily destroyed, will remain permanently above the\nsurface; and at their margins will arise the usual breaking down of rocks\ninto beach-sand and pebbles. While in the slow process of this elevation,\ngoing on at the rate of perhaps two or three feet in a century, most of the\nsedimentary deposits produced will be again and again destroyed and\nreformed; there will, in those adjacent areas of subsidence which accompany\nareas of elevation, be more or less continuous successions of sedimentary\ndeposits.\n\nAnd now what will be the character of these new strata? They will\nnecessarily contain scarcely any traces of life. The deposits that had\npreviously been slowly formed at the bottom of this wide ocean, would be\nsprinkled with fossils of but few species. The oceanic Fauna is not a rich\none; its hydrozoa do not admit of preservation; and the hard parts of its\nfew kinds of molluscs and crustaceans and insects are mostly fragile.\nHence, when the ocean-bed was here and there raised to the surface--when\nits strata of sediment with their contained organic fragments were torn up\nand long washed about by the breakers before being re-deposited--when the\nre-deposits were again and again subject to this violent abrading action by\nsubsequent small elevations, as they would mostly be; what few fragile\norganic remains they contained, would be in nearly all cases destroyed.\nThus such of the first-formed strata as survived the repeated changes of\nlevel, would be practically \"azoic;\" like the Cambrian of our geologists.\nWhen by the washing away of the soft deposits, the hard sub-strata had been\nexposed in the shape of rocky islets, and a footing had thus been\nfurnished, the pioneers of a new life might be expected to make their\nappearance. What would they be? Not any of the surrounding oceanic species,\nfor these are not fitted for a littoral life; but species flourishing on\nsome of the far-distant shores of the Pacific. Of such the first to\nestablish themselves would be sea-weeds and zoophytes; both because their\nswarming spores and gemmules would be the most readily conveyed with\nsafety, and because when conveyed they would find fit food. It is true that\nCirrhipeds and Lamellibranchs, subsisting on the minute creatures which\neverywhere people the sea, would also find fit food.\n\nBut passing over the fact that the germs of such higher forms are neither\nso abundant nor so well fitted to bear long voyages, there is the more\nimportant fact that the individuals arising from these germs can reproduce\nonly sexually, and that this vastly increases the obstacles to the\nestablishment of their races. The chances of early colonization are\nimmensely in favour of species which, multiplying by agamogenesis, can\npeople a whole shore from a single germ; and immensely against species\nwhich, multiplying only by gamogenesis, must be introduced in considerable\nnumbers that some may survive, meet, and propagate. Thus we infer that the\nearliest traces of life left in the sedimentary deposits near these new\nshores, will be traces of life as humble as that indicated in the most\nancient rocks of Great Britain and Ireland. Imagine now that the processes\nwe have briefly indicated, continue--that the emerging lands become wider\nin extent, and fringed by higher and more varied shores; and that there\nstill go on those ocean-currents which, at long intervals, convey from far\ndistant shores immigrant forms of life. What will result? Lapse of time\nwill of course favour the introduction of such new forms: admitting, as it\nmust, of those combinations of fit conditions, which, under the law of\nprobabilities, can occur only at very distant intervals. Moreover, the\nincreasing area of the islands, individually and as a group, implies\nincreasing length of coast; from which there follows a longer line of\ncontact with the streams and waves that bring drifting masses; and,\ntherefore, a greater chance that germs of fresh life will be stranded.\n\nAnd once more, the comparatively-varied shores, presenting physical\nconditions that change from mile to mile, will furnish suitable habitats\nfor more numerous species. So that as the elevation proceeds, three causes\nconspire to introduce additional marine plants and animals. To what classes\nwill the increasing Fauna be for a long period confined? Of course, to\nclasses of which individuals, or their germs, are most liable to be carried\nfar away from their native shores by floating sea-weed or drift-wood; to\nclasses which are also least likely to perish in transit, or from change of\nclimate; and to those which can best subsist around coasts comparatively\nbare of life. Evidently, then, corals, annelids, inferior molluscs, and\ncrustaceans of low grade, will chiefly constitute the early Fauna. The\nlarge predatory members of these classes, will be later in establishing\nthemselves; both because the new shores must first become well peopled by\nthe creatures they prey on, and because, being more complex, they or their\nova must be less likely to survive the journey, and the change of\nconditions.\n\nWe may infer, then, that the strata deposited next after the almost \"azoic\"\nstrata, would contain the remains of invertebrata, allied to those found\nnear the shores of Australia and South America. Of such invertebrate\nremains, the lower beds would furnish comparatively few genera, and those\nof relatively low types; while in the upper beds the number of genera would\nbe greater, and the types higher: just as among the fossils of our Silurian\nsystem. As this great geologic change slowly progressed through its long\nhistory of earthquakes, volcanic disturbances, minor upheavals and\nsubsidences--as the extent of the archipelago became greater and its\nsmaller islands coalesced into larger ones, while its coast line grew still\nlonger and more varied, and the neighbouring sea more thickly inhabited by\ninferior forms of life; the lowest division of the vertebrata would begin\nto be represented. In order of time, fish would naturally come after the\nlower invertebrata: both as being less likely to have their ova transported\nacross the waste of waters, and as requiring for their subsistence a\npre-existing Fauna of some development. They might be expected to make\ntheir appearance along with the predaceous crustaceans; as they do in the\nuppermost Silurian rocks.\n\nAnd here, too, let us remark, that as, during this long epoch we have been\ndescribing, the sea would have made great inroads on some of the newly\nraised lands that had remained stationary; and would probably in some\nplaces have reached masses of igneous or metamorphic rocks; there might, in\ncourse of time, arise by the decomposition and denudation of such rocks,\nlocal deposits coloured with oxide of iron, like our Old Red Sandstone. And\nin these deposits might be buried the remains of the fish then peopling the\nneighbouring sea.\n\nMeanwhile, how would the surfaces of the upheaved masses be occupied? At\nfirst their deserts of naked rocks and pebbles would bear only the humblest\nforms of vegetal life, such as we find in grey and orange patches on our\nown rugged mountain sides; for these alone could flourish on such surfaces,\nand their spores would be the most readily transported. When, by the decay\nof such protophytes, and that decomposition of rock effected by them, there\nhad resulted a fit habitat for mosses; these, of which the germs might be\nconveyed in drifted trees, would begin to spread. A soil having been\neventually thus produced, it would become possible for plants of higher\norganization to find roothold; and as in the way we have described the\narchipelago and its constituent islands grew larger, and had more\nmultiplied relations with winds and waters, such higher plants might be\nexpected ultimately to have their seeds transferred from the nearest lands.\nAfter something like a Flora had thus colonized the surface, it would\nbecome possible for insects to exist; and of air-breathing creatures,\ninsects would manifestly be among the first to find their way from\nelsewhere.\n\nAs, however, terrestrial organisms, both vegetal and animal, are much less\nlikely than marine organisms to survive the accidents of transport from\ndistant shores; it is clear that long after the sea surrounding these new\nlands had acquired a varied Flora and Fauna, the lands themselves would\nstill be comparatively bare; and thus that the early strata, like our\nSilurians, would afford no traces of terrestrial life. By the time that\nlarge areas had been raised above the ocean, we may fairly suppose a\nluxuriant vegetation to have been acquired. Under what circumstances are we\nlikely to find this vegetation fossilized? Large surfaces of land imply\nlarge rivers with their accompanying deltas; and are liable to have lakes\nand swamps. These, as we know from extant cases, are favourable to rank\nvegetation; and afford the conditions needful for preserving it in the\nshape of coal-beds. Observe, then, that while in the early history of such\na continent a carboniferous period could not occur, the occurrence of a\ncarboniferous period would become probable after long-continued upheavals\nhad uncovered large areas. As in our own sedimentary series, coal-beds\nwould make their appearance only after there had been enormous\naccumulations of earlier strata charged with marine fossils.\n\nLet us ask next, in what order the higher forms of animal life would make\ntheir appearance. We have seen how, in the succession of marine forms,\nthere would be something like a progress from the lower to the higher:\nbringing us in the end to predaceous molluscs, crustaceans, and fish. What\nare likely to succeed fish? After marine creatures, those which would have\nthe greatest chance of surviving the voyage would be amphibious reptiles:\nboth because they are more tenacious of life than higher animals, and\nbecause they would be less completely out of their element. Such reptiles\nas can live in both fresh and salt water, like alligators; and such as are\ndrifted out of the mouths of great rivers on floating trees, as Humboldt\nsays the Orinoco alligators are; might be early colonists.\n\nIt is manifest, too, that reptiles of other kinds would be among the first\nvertebrata to people the new continent. If we consider what will occur on\none of those natural rafts of trees, soil, and matted vegetable matter,\nsometimes swept out to sea by such currents as the Mississippi, with a\nmiscellaneous living cargo; we shall see that while the active,\nhot-blooded, highly-organized creatures will soon die of starvation and\nexposure, the inert, cold-blooded ones, which can go long without food,\nwill live perhaps for weeks; and so, out of the chances from time to time\noccurring during long periods, reptiles will be the first to get safely\nlanded on foreign shores: as indeed they are even now known sometimes to\nbe. The transport of mammalia being comparatively precarious, must, in the\norder of probability, be longer postponed; and would, indeed, be unlikely\nto occur until by the enlargement of the new continent, the distances of\nits shores from adjacent lands had been greatly diminished, or the\nformation of intervening islands had increased the chances of survival.\n\nAssuming, however, that the facilities of immigration had become adequate;\nwhich would be the first mammals to arrive and live? Not large herbivores;\nfor they would be soon drowned if by any accident carried out to sea. Not\nthe carnivora; for these would lack appropriate food, even if they outlived\nthe voyage. Small quadrupeds frequenting trees, and feeding on insects,\nwould be those most likely both to be drifted away from their native lands\nand to find fit food in a new one. Insectivorous mammals, like in size to\nthose found in the Trias and the Stonesfield slate, might naturally be\nlooked for as the pioneers of the higher vertebrata. And if we suppose the\nfacilities of communication to be again increased, either by a further\nshallowing of the intervening sea and a consequent multiplication of\nislands, or by an actual junction of the new continent with an old one,\nthrough continued upheavals; we should finally have an influx of the larger\nand more perfect mammals.\n\nNow rude as is this sketch of a process that would be extremely elaborate\nand involved, and open as some of its propositions are to criticisms which\nthere is no space here to meet; no one will deny that it represents\nsomething like the biologic history of the supposed new continent. Details\napart, it is manifest that simple organisms, able to flourish under simple\nconditions of life, would be the first successful immigrants; and that more\ncomplex organisms, needing for their existence the fulfilment of more\ncomplex conditions, would afterwards establish themselves in something like\nan ascending succession. At the one extreme we see every facility. The new\nindividuals can be conveyed in the shape of minute germs; these are\ninfinite in their numbers; they are diffused in the sea; they are\nperpetually being carried in all directions to great distances by\nocean-currents; they can survive such long journeys unharmed; they can find\nnutriment wherever they arrive; and the resulting organisms can multiply\nasexually with great rapidity.\n\nAt the other extreme, we see every difficulty. The new individuals must be\nconveyed in their adult forms; their numbers are, in comparison, utterly\ninsignificant; they live on land, and are very unlikely to be carried out\nto sea; when so carried, the chances are immense against their escape from\ndrowning, starvation, or death by cold; if they survive the transit, they\nmust have a pre-existing Flora or Fauna to supply their special food; they\nrequire, also, the fulfilment of various other physical conditions; and\nunless at least two individuals of different sexes are safely landed, the\nrace cannot be established. Manifestly, then, the immigration of each\nsuccessively higher order of organisms, having, from one or other\nadditional condition to be fulfilled, an enormously-increased probability\nagainst it, would naturally be separated from the immigration of a lower\norder by some period like a geologic epoch.\n\nAnd thus the successive sedimentary deposits formed while this new\ncontinent was undergoing gradual elevation, would seem to furnish clear\nevidence of a general progress in the forms of life. That lands thus raised\nup in the midst of a wide ocean, would first give origin to unfossiliferous\nstrata; next, to strata containing only the lowest marine forms; next, to\nstrata containing higher marine forms, ascending finally to fish; and that\nthe strata above these would contain reptiles, then small mammals, then\ngreat mammals; seems to us to be demonstrable from the known laws of\norganic life.\n\nAnd if the succession of fossils presented by the strata of this supposed\nnew continent, would thus simulate the succession presented by our own\nsedimentary series; must we not say that our own sedimentary series very\npossibly records nothing more than the phenomena accompanying one of these\ngreat upheavals? We think this must be considered not only possible, but\nhighly probable: harmonizing as it does with the unavoidable conclusion\nbefore pointed out, that geological changes must have been going on for a\nperiod immeasurably greater than that of which we have records. And if the\nprobability of this conclusion be admitted, it must be admitted that the\nfacts of Palaeontology can never suffice either to prove or disprove the\nDevelopment Hypothesis; but that the most they can do is, to show whether\nthe last few pages of the Earth's biologic history are or are not in\nharmony with this hypothesis--whether the existing Flora and Fauna can or\ncan not be affiliated upon the Flora and Fauna of the most recent geologic\ntimes.\n\n\n\n\nIX. THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS.\n\n\nIn a debate upon the development hypothesis, lately narrated to me by a\nfriend, one of the disputants was described as arguing, that as, in all our\nexperience, we know no such phenomenon as transmutation of species, it is\nunphilosophical to assume that transmutation of species ever takes place.\nHad I been present, I think that, passing over his assertion, which is open\nto criticism, I should have replied that, as in all our experience we have\nnever known a species _created_, it was, by his own showing,\nunphilosophical to assume that any species ever had been created.\n\nThose who cavalierly reject the Theory of Evolution, as not adequately\nsupported by facts, seem quite to forget that their own theory is supported\nby no facts at all. Like the majority of men who are born to a given\nbelief, they demand the most rigorous proof of any adverse belief, but\nassume that their own needs none. Here we find, scattered over the globe,\nvegetable and animal organisms numbering, of the one kind (according to\nHumboldt), some 320,000 species, and of the other, some 2,000,000 species\n(see Carpenter); and if to these we add the numbers of animal and vegetable\nspecies that have become extinct, we may safely estimate the number of\nspecies that have existed, and are existing, on the Earth, at not less than\n_ten millions_. Well, which is the most rational theory about these ten\nmillions of species? Is it most likely that there have been ten millions of\nspecial creations? or is it most likely that by continual modifications,\ndue to change of circumstances, ten millions of varieties have been\nproduced, as varieties are being produced still?\n\nDoubtless many will reply that they can more easily conceive ten millions\nof special creations to have taken place, than they can conceive that ten\nmillions of varieties have arisen by successive modifications. All such,\nhowever, will find, on inquiry, that they are under an illusion. This is\none of the many cases in which men do not really believe, but rather\n_believe they believe_. It is not that they can truly conceive ten millions\nof special creations to have taken place, but that they _think they can do\nso_. Careful introspection will show them that they have never yet realized\nto themselves the creation of even _one_ species. If they have formed a\ndefinite conception of the process, let them tell us how a new species is\nconstructed, and how it makes its appearance. Is it thrown down from the\nclouds? or must we hold to the notion that it struggles up out of the\nground? Do its limbs and viscera rush together from all the points of the\ncompass? or must we receive the old Hebrew idea, that God takes clay and\nmoulds a new creature? If they say that a new creature is produced in none\nof these modes, which are too absurd to be believed; then they are required\nto describe the mode in which a new creature _may_ be produced--a mode\nwhich does _not_ seem absurd: and such a mode they will find that they\nneither have conceived nor can conceive.\n\nShould the believers in special creations consider it unfair thus to call\nupon them to describe how special creations take place, I reply, that this\nis far less than they demand from the supporters of the Development\nHypothesis. They are merely asked to point out a _conceivable_ mode. On the\nother hand, they ask, not simply for a _conceivable_ mode, but for the\n_actual_ mode. They do not say--Show us how this _may_ take place; but they\nsay--Show us how this _does_ take place. So far from its being unreasonable\nto put the above question, it would be reasonable to ask not only for a\n_possible_ mode of special creation, but for an _ascertained_ mode; seeing\nthat this is no greater a demand than they make upon their opponents.\n\nAnd here we may perceive how much more defensible the new doctrine is than\nthe old one. Even could the supporters of the Development Hypothesis merely\nshow that the origination of species by the process of modification is\nconceivable, they would be in a better position than their opponents. But\nthey can do much more than this. They can show that the process of\nmodification has effected, and is effecting, decided changes in all\norganisms subject to modifying influences. Though, from the impossibility\nof getting at a sufficiency of facts, they are unable to trace the many\nphases through which any existing species has passed in arriving at its\npresent form, or to identify the influences which caused the successive\nmodifications; yet, they can show that any existing species--animal or\nvegetable--when placed under conditions different from its previous ones,\n_immediately begins to undergo certain changes of structure fitting it for\nthe new conditions_. They can show that in successive generations these\nchanges continue, until ultimately the new conditions become the natural\nones. They can show that in cultivated plants, in domesticated animals, and\nin the several races of men, such alterations have taken place. They can\nshow that the degrees of difference so produced are often, as in dogs,\ngreater than those on which distinctions of species are in other cases\nfounded. They can show that it is a matter of dispute whether some of these\nmodified forms _are_ varieties or separate species. They can show, too,\nthat the changes daily taking place in ourselves--the facility that attends\nlong practice, and the loss of aptitude that begins when practice\nceases--the strengthening of passions habitually gratified, and the\nweakening of those habitually curbed--the development of every faculty,\nbodily, moral, or intellectual, according to the use made of it--are all\nexplicable on this same principle. And thus they can show that throughout\nall organic nature there _is_ at work a modifying influence of the kind\nthey assign as the cause of these specific differences: an influence which,\nthough slow in its action, does, in time, if the circumstances demand it,\nproduce marked changes--an influence which, to all appearance, would\nproduce in the millions of years, and under the great varieties of\ncondition which geological records imply, any amount of change.\n\nWhich, then, is the most rational hypothesis?--that of special creations\nwhich has neither a fact to support it nor is even definitely conceivable;\nor that of modification, which is not only definitely conceivable, but is\ncountenanced by the habitudes of every existing organism?\n\nThat by any series of changes a protozoon should ever become a mammal,\nseems to those who are not familiar with zoology, and who have not seen how\nclear becomes the relationship between the simplest and the most complex\nforms when intermediate forms are examined, a very grotesque notion.\nHabitually looking at things rather in their statical than in their\ndynamical aspect, they never realize the fact that, by small increments of\nmodification, any amount of modification may in time be generated. That\nsurprise which they feel on finding one whom they last saw as a boy, grown\ninto a man, becomes incredulity when the degree of change is greater.\nNevertheless, abundant instances are at hand of the mode in which we may\npass to the most diverse forms, by insensible gradations. Arguing the\nmatter some time since with a learned professor, I illustrated my position\nthus:--You admit that there is no apparent relationship between a circle\nand an hyperbola. The one is a finite curve; the other is an infinite one.\nAll parts of the one are alike; of the other no two parts are alike. The\none incloses a space; the other will not inclose a space though produced\nfor ever. Yet opposite as are these curves in all their properties, they\nmay be connected together by a series of intermediate curves, no one of\nwhich differs from the adjacent ones in any appreciable degree. Thus, if a\ncone be cut by a plane at right angles to its axis we get a circle. If,\ninstead of being perfectly at right angles, the plane subtends with the\naxis an angle of 89 deg. 59', we have an ellipse, which no human eye, even when\naided by an accurate pair of compasses, can distinguish from a circle.\nDecreasing the angle minute by minute, the ellipse becomes first\nperceptibly eccentric, then manifestly so, and by and by acquires so\nimmensely elongated a form, as to bear no recognisable resemblance to a\ncircle. By continuing this process, the ellipse passes insensibly into a\nparabola; and ultimately, by still further diminishing the angle, into an\nhyperbola. Now here we have four different species of curve--circle,\nellipse, parabola, and hyperbola--each having its peculiar properties and\nits separate equation, and the first and last of which are quite opposite\nin nature, connected together as members of one series, all producible by a\nsingle process of insensible modification.\n\nBut the blindness of those who think it absurd to suppose that complex\norganic forms may have arisen by successive modifications out of simple\nones, becomes astonishing when we remember that complex organic forms are\ndaily being thus produced. A tree differs from a seed immeasurably in every\nrespect--in bulk, in structure, in colour, in form, in specific gravity, in\nchemical composition: differs so greatly that no visible resemblance of any\nkind can be pointed out between them. Yet is the one changed in the course\nof a few years into the other: changed so gradually, that at no moment can\nit be said--Now the seed ceases to be, and the tree exists. What can be\nmore widely contrasted than a newly-born child and the small,\nsemi-transparent, gelatinous spherule constituting the human ovum? The\ninfant is so complex in structure that a cyclopaedia is needed to describe\nits constituent parts. The germinal vesicle is so simple that it may be\ndefined in a line. Nevertheless, a few months suffice to develop the one\nout of the other; and that, too, by a series of modifications so small,\nthat were the embryo examined at successive minutes, even a microscope\nwould with difficulty disclose any sensible changes. That the uneducated\nand the ill-educated should think the hypothesis that all races of beings,\nman inclusive, may in process of time have been evolved from the simplest\nmonad, a ludicrous one, is not to be wondered at. But for the physiologist,\nwho knows that every individual being is so evolved--who knows further,\nthat in their earliest condition the germs of all plants and animals\nwhatever are so similar, \"that there is no appreciable distinction amongst\nthem which would enable it to be determined whether a particular molecule\nis the germ of a conferva or of an oak, of a zoophyte or of a man;\"[U]--for\nhim to make a difficulty of the matter is inexcusable. Surely if a single\ncell may, when subjected to certain influences, become a man in the space\nof twenty years; there is nothing absurd in the hypothesis that under\ncertain other influences, a cell may in the course of millions of years\ngive origin to the human race. The two processes are generically the same;\nand differ only in length and complexity.\n\n  [U] Carpenter.\n\nWe have, indeed, in the part taken by many scientific men in this\ncontroversy of \"Law _versus_ Miracle,\" a good illustration of the tenacious\nvitality of superstitions. Ask one of our leading geologists or\nphysiologists whether he believes in the Mosaic account of the creation,\nand he will take the question as next to an insult. Either he rejects the\nnarrative entirely, or understands it in some vague non-natural sense. Yet\none part of it he unconsciously adopts; and that, too, literally. For\nwhence has he got this notion of \"special creations,\" which he thinks so\nreasonable, and fights for so vigorously? Evidently he can trace it back to\nno other source than this myth which he repudiates. He has not a single\nfact in nature to quote in proof of it; nor is he prepared with any chain\nof abstract reasoning by which it may be established. Catechise him, and he\nwill be forced to confess that the notion was put into his mind in\nchildhood as part of a story which he now thinks absurd. And why, after\nrejecting all the rest of this story, he should strenuously defend this\nlast remnant of it as though he had received it on valid authority, he\nwould be puzzled to say.\n\n\n\n\nX. THE SOCIAL ORGANISM.\n\n\nSir James Macintosh got great credit for the saying, that \"constitutions\nare not made, but grow.\" In our day, the most significant thing about this\nsaying is, that it was ever thought so significant. As from the surprise\ndisplayed by a man at some familiar fact, you may judge of his general\nculture; so from the admiration which an age accords to a new thought, its\naverage degree of enlightenment may be inferred. That this apophthegm of\nMacintosh should have been quoted and re-quoted as it has, shows how\nprofound has been the ignorance of social science. A small ray of truth has\nseemed brilliant, as a distant rushlight looks like a star in the\nsurrounding darkness.\n\nSuch a conception could not, indeed, fail to be startling when let fall in\nthe midst of a system of thought to which it was utterly alien. Universally\nin Macintosh's day, things were explained on the hypothesis of manufacture,\nrather than that of growth: as indeed they are, by the majority, in our own\nday. It was held that the planets were severally projected round the sun\nfrom the Creator's hand; with exactly the velocity required to balance the\nsun's attraction. The formation of the Earth, the separation of sea from\nland, the production of animals, were mechanical works from which God\nrested as a labourer rests. Man was supposed to be moulded after a manner\nsomewhat akin to that in which a modeller makes a clay-figure. And of\ncourse, in harmony with such ideas, societies were tacitly assumed to be\narranged thus or thus by direct interposition of Providence; or by the\nregulations of law-makers; or by both.\n\nYet that societies are not artificially put together, is a truth so\nmanifest, that it seems wonderful men should have ever overlooked it.\nPerhaps nothing more clearly shows the small value of historical studies,\nas they have been commonly pursued. You need but to look at the changes\ngoing on around, or observe social organization in its leading\npeculiarities, to see that these are neither supernatural, nor are\ndetermined by the wills of individual men, as by implication historians\ncommonly teach; but are consequent on general natural causes. The one case\nof the division of labour suffices to show this. It has not been by command\nof any ruler that some men have become manufacturers, while others have\nremained cultivators of the soil. In Lancashire, millions have devoted\nthemselves to the making of cotton-fabrics; in Yorkshire, another million\nlives by producing woollens; and the pottery of Staffordshire, the cutlery\nof Sheffield, the hardware of Birmingham, severally occupy their hundreds\nof thousands. These are large facts in the structure of English society;\nbut we can ascribe them neither to miracle, nor to legislation. It is not\nby \"the hero as king,\" any more than by \"collective wisdom,\" that men have\nbeen segregated into producers, wholesale distributors, and retail\ndistributors.\n\nThe whole of our industrial organization, from its main outlines down to\nits minutest details, has become what it is, not simply without legislative\nguidance, but, to a considerable extent, in spite of legislative\nhindrances. It has arisen under the pressure of human wants and activities.\nWhile each citizen has been pursuing his individual welfare, and none\ntaking thought about division of labour, or, indeed, conscious of the need\nfor it, division of labour has yet been ever becoming more complete. It has\nbeen doing this slowly and silently: scarcely any having observed it until\nquite modern times. By steps so small, that year after year the industrial\narrangements have seemed to men just what they were before--by changes as\ninsensible as those through which a seed passes into a tree; society has\nbecome the complex body of mutually-dependent workers which we now see. And\nthis economic organization, mark, is the all-essential organization.\nThrough the combination thus spontaneously evolved, every citizen is\nsupplied with daily necessaries; while he yields some product or aid to\nothers. That we are severally alive to-day, we owe to the regular working\nof this combination during the past week; and could it be suddenly\nabolished, a great proportion of us would be dead before another week\nended. If these most conspicuous and vital arrangements of our social\nstructure, have arisen without the devising of any one, but through the\nindividual efforts of citizens to satisfy their own wants; we may be\ntolerably certain that the less important arrangements have similarly\narisen.\n\n\"But surely,\" it will be said, \"the social changes directly produced by\nlaw, cannot be classed as spontaneous growths. When parliaments or kings\norder this or that thing to be done, and appoint officials to do it, the\nprocess is clearly artificial; and society to this extent becomes a\nmanufacture rather than a growth.\" No, not even these changes are\nexceptions, if they be real and permanent changes. The true sources of such\nchanges lie deeper than the acts of legislators. To take first the simplest\ninstance. We all know that the enactments of representative governments\nultimately depend on the national will: they may for a time be out of\nharmony with it, but eventually they must conform to it. And to say that\nthe national will finally determines them, is to say that they result from\nthe average of individual desires; or, in other words--from the average of\nindividual natures. A law so initiated, therefore, really grows out of the\npopular character.\n\nIn the case of a Government representing a dominant class, the same things\nholds, though not so manifestly. For the very existence of a class\nmonopolizing all power, is due to certain sentiments in the commonalty. But\nfor the feeling of loyalty on the part of retainers, a feudal system could\nnot exist. We see in the protest of the Highlanders against the abolition\nof heritable jurisdictions, that they preferred that kind of local rule.\nAnd if to the popular nature, must thus be ascribed the growth of an\nirresponsible ruling class; then to the popular nature must be ascribed the\nsocial arrangements which that class creates in the pursuit of its own\nends. Even where the Government is despotic, the doctrine still holds. The\ncharacter of the people is, as before, the original source of this\npolitical form; and, as we have abundant proof, other forms suddenly\ncreated will not act, but rapidly retrograde to the old form. Moreover,\nsuch regulations as a despot makes, if really operative, are so because of\ntheir fitness to the social state. His acts being very much swayed by\ngeneral opinion--by precedent, by the feeling of his nobles, his\npriesthood, his army--are in part immediate results of the national\ncharacter; and when they are out of harmony with the national character,\nthey are soon practically abrogated.\n\nThe failure of Cromwell permanently to establish a new social condition,\nand the rapid revival of suppressed institutions and practices after his\ndeath, show how powerless is a monarch to change the type of the society he\ngoverns. He may disturb, he may retard, or he may aid the natural process\nof organization; but the general course of this process is beyond his\ncontrol. Nay, more than this is true. Those who regard the histories of\nsocieties as the histories of their great men, and think that these great\nmen shape the fates of their societies, overlook the truth that such great\nmen are the products of their societies. Without certain\nantecedents--without a certain average national character, they could\nneither have been generated nor could have had the culture which formed\nthem. If their society is to some extent re-moulded by them, they were,\nboth before and after birth, moulded by their society--were the results of\nall those influences which fostered the ancestral character they inherited,\nand gave their own early bias, their creed, morals, knowledge, aspirations.\nSo that such social changes as are immediately traceable to individuals of\nunusual power, are still remotely traceable to the social causes which\nproduced these individuals, and hence, from the highest point of view, such\nsocial changes also, are parts of the general developmental process.\n\nThus that which is so obviously true of the industrial structure of\nsociety, is true of its whole structure. The fact that \"constitutions are\nnot made, but grow,\" is simply a fragment of the much larger fact, that\nunder all its aspects and through all its ramifications, society is a\ngrowth and not a manufacture.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA perception that there exists some analogy between the body politic and a\nliving individual body, was early reached; and from time to time\nre-appeared in literature. But this perception was necessarily vague and\nmore or less fanciful. In the absence of physiological science, and\nespecially of those comprehensive generalizations which it has but recently\nreached, it was impossible to discern the real parallelisms.\n\nThe central idea of Plato's model Republic, is the correspondence between\nthe parts of a society and the faculties of the human mind. Classifying\nthese faculties under the heads of Reason, Will, and Passion, he classifies\nthe members of his ideal society under what he regards as three analogous\nheads:--councillors, who are to exercise government; military or executive,\nwho are to fulfil their behests; and the commonalty, bent on gain and\nselfish gratification. In other words, the ruler, the warrior, and the\ncraftsman, are, according to him, the analogues of our reflective,\nvolitional, and emotional powers. Now even were there truth in the implied\nassumption of a parallelism between the structure of a society and that of\na man, this classification would be indefensible. It might more truly be\ncontended that, as the military power obeys the commands of the Government,\nit is the Government which answers to the Will; while the military power is\nsimply an agency set in motion by it. Or, again, it might be contended that\nwhereas the Will is a product of predominant desires, to which the Reason\nserves merely as an eye, it is the craftsmen, who, according to the alleged\nanalogy, ought to be the moving power of the warriors.\n\nHobbes sought to establish a still more definite parallelism: not, however\nbetween a society and the human mind, but between a society and the human\nbody. In the introduction to the work in which he developes this\nconception, he says--\n\n  \"For by art is created that great LEVIATHAN called a COMMONWEALTH,\n  or STATE, in Latin CIVITAS, which is but an artificial man; though of\n  greater stature and strength than the natural, for whose protection\n  and defence it was intended, and in which the _sovereignty_ is an\n  artificial _soul_, as giving life and motion to the whole body; the\n  _magistrates_ and other _officers_ of judicature and execution,\n  artificial _joints_; _reward_ and _punishment_, by which, fastened to\n  the seat of the sovereignty, every joint and member is moved to\n  perform his duty, are the _nerves_, that do the same in the body\n  natural; the _wealth_ and _riches_ of all the particular members are\n  the _strength_; _salus populi_, the _people's safety_, its\n  _business_; _counsellors_, by whom all things needful for it to know\n  are suggested unto it, are the _memory_; _equity_ and _laws_ an\n  artificial _reason_ and _will_; _concord_, _health_; _sedition_,\n  _sickness_; _civil war_, _death_,\"\n\nAnd Hobbes carries this comparison so far as actually to give a drawing of\nthe Leviathan--a vast human-shaped figure, whose body and limbs are made up\nof multitudes of men. Just noting that these different analogies asserted\nby Plato and Hobbes, serve to cancel each other (being, as they are, so\ncompletely at variance), we may say that on the whole those of Hobbes are\nthe more plausible. But they are full of inconsistencies. If the\nsovereignty is the _soul_ of the body politic, how can it be that\nmagistrates, who are a kind of deputy-sovereigns, should be comparable to\n_joints_? Or, again, how can the three mental functions, memory, reason,\nand will, be severally analogous, the first to counsellors, who are a class\nof public officers, and the other two to equity and laws, which are not\nclasses of officers, but abstractions? Or, once more, if magistrates are\nthe artificial joints of society, how can reward and punishment be its\nnerves? Its nerves must surely be some class of persons. Reward and\npunishment must in societies, as in individuals, be _conditions_ of the\nnerves, and not the nerves themselves.\n\nBut the chief errors of these comparisons made by Plato and Hobbes, lie\nmuch deeper. Both thinkers assume that the organization of a society is\ncomparable, not simply to the organization of a living body in general, but\nto the organization of the human body in particular. There is no warrant\nwhatever for assuming this. It is in no way implied by the evidence; and is\nsimply one of those fancies which we commonly find mixed up with the truths\nof early speculation. Still more erroneous are the two conceptions in this,\nthat they construe a society as an artificial structure. Plato's model\nrepublic--his ideal of a healthful body politic--is to be consciously put\ntogether by men; just as a watch might be: and Plato manifestly thinks of\nsocieties in general as thus originated. Quite specifically does Hobbes\nexpress this view. \"For by _art_,\" he says, \"is created that great\nLEVIATHAN called a COMMONWEALTH.\" And he even goes so far as to compare the\nsupposed social contract, from which a society suddenly originates, to the\ncreation of a man by the divine fiat. Thus they both fall into the extreme\ninconsistency of considering a community as similar in structure to a human\nbeing, and yet as produced in the same way as an artificial mechanism--in\nin nature, an organism; in history, a machine.\n\nNotwithstanding errors, however, these speculations have considerable\nsignificance. That such analogies, crudely as they are thought out, should\nhave been alleged by Plato and Hobbes and many others, is a reason for\nsuspecting that _some_ analogy exists. The untenableness of the particular\ncomparisons above instanced, is no ground for denying an essential\nparallelism; for early ideas are usually but vague adumbrations of the\ntruth. Lacking the great generalizations of biology, it was, as we have\nsaid, impossible to trace out the real relations of social organizations to\norganizations of another order. We propose here to show what are the\nanalogies which modern science discloses to us.\n\nLet us set out by succinctly stating the points of similarity and the\npoints of difference. Societies agree with individual organisms in four\nconspicuous peculiarities:--\n\n  1. That commencing as small aggregations, they insensibly augment in\n     mass: some of them eventually reaching ten thousand times what\n     they originally were.\n\n  2. That while at first so simple in structure as to be considered\n     structureless, they assume, in the course of their growth, a\n     continually-increasing complexity of structure.\n\n  3. That though in their early, undeveloped states, there exists in\n     them scarcely any mutual dependence of parts, their parts\n     gradually acquire a mutual dependence; which becomes at last so\n     great, that the activity and life of each part is made possible\n     only by the activity and life of the rest.\n\n  4. That the life and development of a society is independent of, and\n     far more prolonged than, the life and development of any of its\n     component units; who are severally born, grow, work, reproduce,\n     and die, while the body politic composed of them survives\n     generation after generation, increasing in mass, completeness of\n     structure, and functional activity.\n\nThese four parallelisms will appear the more significant the more we\ncontemplate them. While the points specified, are points in which societies\nagree with individual organisms, they are points in which individual\norganisms agree with each other, and disagree with all things else. In the\ncourse of its existence, every plant and animal increases in mass, in a way\nnot parallelled by inorganic objects: even such inorganic objects as\ncrystals, which arise by growth, show us no such definite relation between\ngrowth and existence as organisms do. The orderly progress from simplicity\nto complexity, displayed by bodies politic in common with all living\nbodies, is a characteristic which distinguishes living bodies from the\ninanimate bodies amid which they move. That functional dependence of parts,\nwhich is scarcely more manifest in animals or plants than nations, has no\ncounterpart elsewhere. And in no aggregate except an organic, or a social\none, is there a perpetual removal and replacement of parts, joined with a\ncontinued integrity of the whole.\n\nMoreover, societies and organisms are not only alike in these\npeculiarities, in which they are unlike all other things; but the highest\nsocieties, like the highest organisms, exhibit them in the greatest degree.\nWe see that the lowest animals do not increase to anything like the sizes\nof the higher ones; and, similarly, we see that aboriginal societies are\ncomparatively limited in their growths. In complexity, our large civilized\nnations as much exceed primitive savage tribes, as a vertebrate animal does\na zoophyte. Simple communities, like simple creatures, have so little\nmutual dependence of parts, that subdivision or mutilation causes but\nlittle inconvenience; but from complex communities, as from complex\ncreatures, you cannot remove any considerable organ without producing great\ndisturbance or death of the rest. And in societies of low type, as in\ninferior animals, the life of the aggregate, often cut short by division or\ndissolution, exceeds in length the lives of the component units, very far\nless than in civilized communities and superior animals; which outlive many\ngenerations of their component units.\n\nOn the other hand, the leading differences between societies and individual\norganisms are these:--\n\n1. That societies have no specific external forms. This, however, is a\npoint of contrast which loses much of its importance, when we remember that\nthroughout the vegetal kingdom, as well as in some lower divisions of the\nanimal kingdom, the forms are often very indefinite--definiteness being\nrather the exception than the rule; and that they are manifestly in part\ndetermined by surrounding physical circumstances, as the forms of societies\nare. If, too, it should eventually be shown, as we believe it will, that\nthe form of every species of organism has resulted from the average play of\nthe external forces to which it has been subject during its evolution as a\nspecies; then, that the external forms of societies should depend, as they\ndo, on surrounding conditions, will be a further point of community.\n\n2. That though the living tissue whereof an individual organism consists,\nforms a continuous mass, the living elements of a society do not form a\ncontinuous mass; but are more or less widely dispersed over some portion of\nthe Earth's surface. This, which at first sight appears to be a fundamental\ndistinction, is one which yet to a great extent disappears when we\ncontemplate all the facts. For, in the lower divisions of the animal and\nvegetal kingdoms, there are types of organization much more nearly allied,\nin this respect, to the organization of a society, than might be\nsupposed--types in which the living units essentially composing the mass,\nare dispersed through an inert substance, that can scarcely be called\nliving in the full sense of the word. It is thus with some of the\n_Protococci_ and with the _Nostoceae_, which exist as cells imbedded in a\nviscid matter. It is so, too, with the _Thalassicollae_--bodies that are\nmade up of differentiated parts, dispersed through an undifferentiated\njelly. And throughout considerable portions of their bodies, some of the\n_Acalephae_ exhibit more or less distinctly this type of structure.\n\nIndeed, it may be contended that this is the primitive form of all\norganization; seeing that, even in the highest creatures, as in ourselves,\nevery tissue developes out of what physiologists call a blastema--an\nunorganized though organizable substance, through which organic points are\ndistributed. Now this is very much the case with a society. For we must\nremember that though the men who make up a society, are physically separate\nand even scattered; yet that the surface over which they are scattered is\nnot one devoid of life, but is covered by life of a lower order which\nministers to their life. The vegetation which clothes a country, makes\npossible the animal life in that country; and only through its animal and\nvegetal products can such a country support a human society. Hence the\nmembers of the body politic are not to be regarded as separated by\nintervals of dead space; but as diffused through a space occupied by life\nof a lower order. In our conception of a social organism, we must include\nall that lower organic existence on which human existence, and therefore\nsocial existence, depends. And when we do this, we see that the citizens\nwho make up a community, may be considered as highly vitalized units\nsurrounded by substances of lower vitality, from which they draw their\nnutriment: much as in the cases above instanced. Thus, when examined, this\napparent distinction in great part disappears.\n\n3. That while the ultimate living elements of an individual organism, are\nmostly fixed in their relative positions, those of the social organism are\ncapable of moving from place to place, seems a marked disagreement. But\nhere, too, the disagreement is much less than would be supposed. For while\ncitizens are locomotive in their private capacities, they are fixed in\ntheir public capacities. As farmers, manufacturers, or traders, men carry\non their business at the same spots, often throughout their whole lives;\nand if they go away occasionally, they leave behind others to discharge\ntheir functions in their absence. Each great centre of production, each\nmanufacturing town or district, continues always in the same place; and\nmany of the firms in such town or district, are for generations carried on\neither by the descendants or successors of those who founded them. Just as\nin a living body, the cells that make up some important organ, severally\nperform their functions for a time and then disappear, leaving others to\nsupply their places; so, in each part of a society, the organ remains,\nthough the persons who compose it change. Thus, in social life, as in the\nlife of an animal, the units as well as the larger agencies formed of them,\nare in the main stationary as respects the places where they discharge\ntheir duties and obtain their sustenance. And hence the power of individual\nlocomotion does not practically affect the analogy.\n\n4. The last and perhaps the most important distinction, is, that while in\nthe body of an animal, only a special tissue is endowed with feeling; in a\nsociety, all the members are endowed with feeling. Even this distinction,\nhowever, is by no means a complete one. For in some of the lowest animals,\ncharacterized by the absence of a nervous system, such sensitiveness as\nexists is possessed by all parts. It is only in the more organized forms\nthat feeling is monopolized by one class of the vital elements. Moreover,\nwe must remember that societies, too, are not without a certain\ndifferentiation of this kind. Though the units of a community are all\nsensitive, yet they are so in unequal degrees. The classes engaged in\nagriculture and laborious occupations in general, are much less\nsusceptible, intellectually and emotionally, than the rest; and especially\nless so than the classes of highest mental culture. Still, we have here a\ntolerably decided contrast between bodies politic and individual bodies.\nAnd it is one which we should keep constantly in view. For it reminds us\nthat while in individual bodies, the welfare of all other parts is rightly\nsubservient to the welfare of the nervous system, whose pleasurable or\npainful activities make up the good or evil of life; in bodies politic, the\nsame thing does not hold, or holds to but a very slight extent. It is well\nthat the lives of all parts of an animal should be merged in the life of\nthe whole; because the whole has a corporate consciousness capable of\nhappiness or misery. But it is not so with a society; since its living\nunits do not and cannot lose individual consciousness; and since the\ncommunity as a whole has no corporate consciousness. And this is an\neverlasting reason why the welfare of citizens cannot rightly be sacrificed\nto some supposed benefit of the State; but why, on the other hand, the\nState is to be maintained solely for the benefit of citizens. The corporate\nlife must here be subservient to the lives of the parts; instead of the\nlives of the parts being subservient to the corporate life.\n\nSuch, then, are the points of analogy and the points of difference. May we\nnot say that the points of difference serve but to bring into clearer light\nthe points of analogy. While comparison makes definite the obvious\ncontrasts between organisms commonly so called, and the social organism; it\nshows that even these contrasts are not so decided as was to be expected.\nThe indefiniteness of form, the discontinuity of the parts, the mobility of\nthe parts, and the universal sensitiveness, are not only peculiarities of\nthe social organism which have to be stated with considerable\nqualifications; but they are peculiarities to which the inferior classes of\nanimals present approximations. Thus we find but little to conflict with\nthe all-important analogies. That societies slowly augment in mass; that\nthey progress in complexity of structure; that at the same time their parts\nbecome more mutually dependent; that their living units are removed and\nreplaced without destroying their integrity; and further, that the extents\nto which they display these peculiarities are proportionate to their vital\nactivities; are traits that societies have in common with organic bodies.\nAnd these traits in which they agree with organic bodies and disagree with\nall other things--these traits which in truth specially characterize\norganic bodies, entirely subordinate the minor distinctions: such\ndistinctions being scarcely greater than those which separate one half of\nthe organic kingdom from the other. The _principles_ of organization are\nthe same; and the differences are simply differences of application.\n\nHere ending this general survey of the facts which justify the comparison\nof a society to a living body; let us look at them in detail. We shall find\nthat the parallelism becomes the more marked the more closely it is traced.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe lowest animal and vegetal forms--_Protozoa_ and _Protophyta_--are\nchiefly inhabitants of the water. They are minute bodies, most of which are\nmade individually visible only by the microscope. All of them are extremely\nsimple in structure; and some of them, as the _Rhizopods_, almost\nstructureless. Multiplying, as they ordinarily do, by the spontaneous\ndivision of their bodies, they produce halves, which may either become\nquite separate and move away in different directions, or may continue\nattached. By the repetition of this process of fission, aggregations of\nvarious sizes and kinds are formed. Among the _Protophyta_ we have some\nclasses, as the _Diatomaceae_ and the Yeast-plant, in which the individuals\nmay be either separate, or attached in groups of two, three, four, or more;\nother classes in which a considerable number of individual cells are united\ninto a thread (_Conferva_, _Monilia_); others in which they form a net work\n(_Hydrodictyon_); others in which they form plates (_Ulva_); and others in\nwhich they form masses (_Laminaria_, _Agaricus_): all which vegetal forms,\nhaving no distinction of root, stem, or leaf, are called _Thallogens_.\nAmong the _Protozoa_ we find parallel facts. Immense numbers of\n_Am[oe]ba_-like creatures, massed together in a framework of horny fibres,\nconstitute Sponge. In the _Foraminifera_, we see smaller groups of such\ncreatures arranged into more definite shapes. Not only do these almost\nstructureless _Protozoa_ unite into regular or irregular aggregations of\nvarious sizes; but among some of the more organized ones, as the\n_Vorticellae_, there are also produced clusters of individuals, proceeding\nfrom a common stock. But these little societies of monads, or cells, or\nwhatever else we may call them, are societies only in the lowest sense:\nthere is no subordination of parts among them--no organization. Each of the\ncomponent units lives by and for itself; neither giving nor receiving aid.\nThere is no mutual dependence, save that consequent on mere mechanical\nunion.\n\nNow do we not here discern analogies to the first stages of human\nsocieties? Among the lowest races, as the Bushmen, we find but incipient\naggregation: sometimes single families; sometimes two or three families\nwandering about together. The number of associated units is small and\nvariable; and their union inconstant. No division of labour exists except\nbetween the sexes; and the only kind of mutual aid is that of joint attack\nor defence. We see nothing beyond an undifferentiated group of individuals,\nforming the germ of a society; just as in the homogeneous groups of cells\nabove described, we see only the initial stage of animal and vegetal\norganization.\n\nThe comparison may now be carried a step higher. In the vegetal kingdom we\npass from the _Thallogens_, consisting of mere masses of similar cells, to\nthe _Acrogens_, in which the cells are not similar throughout the whole\nmass; but are here aggregated into a structure serving as leaf, and there\ninto a structure serving as root: thus forming a whole in which there is a\ncertain subdivision of functions among the units; and therefore a certain\nmutual dependence. In the animal kingdom we find analogous progress. From\nmere unorganized groups of cells, or cell-like bodies, we ascend to groups\nof such cells arranged into parts that have different duties. The common\nPolype, from whose substance may be separated individual cells which\nexhibit, when detached, appearances and movements like those of the\nsolitary _Am[oe]ba_, illustrates this stage. The component units, though\nstill showing great community of character, assume somewhat diverse\nfunctions in the skin, in the internal surface, and in the tentacles. There\nis a certain amount of \"physiological division of labour.\"\n\nTurning to societies, we find these stages paralleled in the majority of\naboriginal tribes. When, instead of such small variable groups as are\nformed by Bushmen, we come to the larger and more permanent groups formed\nby savages not quite so low, we begin to find traces of social structure.\nThough industrial organization scarcely shows itself, except in the\ndifferent occupations of the sexes; yet there is always more or less of\ngovernmental organization. While all the men are warriors and hunters, only\na part of them are included in the council of chiefs; and in this council\nof chiefs some one has commonly supreme authority. There is thus a certain\ndistinction of classes and powers; and through this slight specialization\nof functions, is effected a rude co-operation among the increasing mass of\nindividuals, whenever the society has to act in its corporate capacity.\nBeyond this analogy in the slight extent to which organization is carried,\nthere is analogy in the indefiniteness of the organization. In the _Hydra_,\nthe respective parts of the creature's substance have many functions in\ncommon. They are all contractile; omitting the tentacles, the whole of the\nexternal surface can give origin to young _hydrae_; and when turned inside\nout, stomach performs the duties of skin, and skin the duties of stomach.\nIn aboriginal societies such differentiations as exist are similarly\nimperfect. Notwithstanding distinctions of rank, all persons maintain\nthemselves by their own exertions. Not only do the head men of the tribe,\nin common with the rest, build their own huts, make their own weapons, kill\ntheir own food; but the chief does the like. Moreover, in the rudest of\nthese tribes, such governmental organization as exists is very inconstant.\nIt is frequently changed by violence or treachery, and the function of\nruling assumed by other members of the community. Thus between the rudest\nsocieties and some of the lowest forms of animal life there is analogy\nalike in the slight extent to which organization is carried, in the\nindefiniteness of this organization, and in its want of fixity.\n\nA further complication of the analogy is at hand. From the aggregation of\nunits into organized groups, we pass to the multiplication of such groups,\nand their coalescence into compound groups. The _Hydra_, when it has\nreached a certain bulk, puts forth from its surface a bud, which, growing\nand gradually assuming the form of the parent, finally becomes detached;\nand by this process of gemmation, the creature peoples the adjacent water\nwith others like itself. A parallel process is seen in the multiplication\nof those lowly-organized tribes above described. One of them having\nincreased to a size that is either too great for co-ordination under so\nrude a structure, or else that is greater than the surrounding country can\nsupply with game and other wild food, there arises a tendency to divide;\nand as in such communities there are ever occurring quarrels, jealousies,\nand other causes of division, there soon comes an occasion on which a part\nof the tribe separates under the leadership of some subordinate chief, and\nmigrates. This process being from time to time repeated, an extensive\nregion is at length occupied with numerous separate tribes descended from a\ncommon ancestry. The analogy by no means ends here. Though in the common\n_Hydra_, the young ones that bud out from the parent soon become detached\nand independent; yet throughout the rest of the class _Hydrozoa_, to which\nthis creature belongs, the like does not generally happen. The successive\nindividuals thus developed continue attached; give origin to other such\nindividuals which also continue attached; and so there results a compound\nanimal. As in the _Hydra_ itself, we find an aggregation of units which,\nconsidered separately, are akin to the lowest _Protozoa_; so here, in a\n_Zoophyte_, we find an aggregation of such aggregations. The like is also\nseen throughout the extensive family of _Polyzoa_ or _Molluscoida_. The\nAscidian Mollusks, too, in their many varied forms, show us the same thing:\nexhibiting, at the same time, various degrees of union subsisting among the\ncomponent individuals. For while in the _Salpae_ the component individuals\nadhere so slightly that a blow on the vessel of water in which they are\nfloating will separate them; in the _Botryllidae_ there exists a vascular\nconnexion between them, and a common circulation.\n\nNow in these various forms and degrees of aggregation, may we not see\nparalleled the union of groups of connate tribes into nations? Though in\nregions where circumstances permit, the separate tribes descended from some\noriginal tribe, migrate in all directions, and become far removed and quite\nseparate; yet, in other cases, where the territory presents barriers to\ndistant migration, this does not happen: the small kindred communities are\nheld in closer contact, and eventually become more or less united into a\nnation. The contrast between the tribes of American Indians and the\nScottish clans, illustrates this. And a glance at our own early history, or\nthe early histories of continental nations, shows this fusion of small\nsimple communities taking place in various ways and to various extents. As\nsays M. Guizot, in his history of \"The Origin of Representative\nGovernment,\"--\n\n  \"By degrees, in the midst of the chaos of the rising society, small\n  aggregations are formed which feel the want of alliance and union\n  with each other.... Soon inequality of strength is displayed among\n  neighbouring aggregations. The strong tend to subjugate the weak, and\n  usurp at first the rights of taxation and military service. Thus\n  political authority leaves the aggregations which first instituted\n  it, to take a wider range.\"\n\nThat is to say, the small tribes, clans, or feudal unions, sprung mostly\nfrom a common stock, and long held in contact as occupants of adjacent\nlands, gradually get united in other ways than by mere adhesion of race and\nproximity.\n\nA further series of changes begins now to take place; to which, as before,\nwe shall find analogies in individual organisms. Returning again to the\n_Hydrozoa_, we observe that in the simplest of the compound forms, the\nconnected individuals developed from a common stock, are alike in\nstructure, and perform like functions: with the exception, indeed, that\nhere and there a bud, instead of developing into a stomach, mouth, and\ntentacles, becomes an egg-sac. But with the oceanic _Hydrozoa_, this is by\nno means the case. In the _Calycophoridae_, some of the polypes growing from\nthe common germ, become developed and modified into large, long, sack-like\nbodies, which by their rhythmical contractions move through the water,\ndragging the community of polypes after them. In the _Physophoridae_, a\nvariety of organs similarly arise by transformation of the budding polypes;\nso that in creatures like the _Physalia_, commonly known as the \"Portuguese\nMan-of-war,\" instead of that tree-like group of similar individuals forming\nthe original type of the class, we have a complex mass of unlike parts\nfulfilling unlike duties. As an individual _Hydra_ may be regarded as a\ngroup of _Protozoa_, which have become partially metamorphosed into\ndifferent organs; so a _Physalia_ is, morphologically considered, a group\nof _Hydrae_ of which the individuals have been variously transformed to fit\nthem for various functions.\n\nThis differentiation upon differentiation, is just what takes place in the\nevolution of a civilized society. We observed how, in the small communities\nfirst formed, there arises a certain simple political organization--there\nis a partial separation of classes having different duties. And now we have\nto observe how, in a nation formed by the fusion of such small communities,\nthe several sections, at first alike in structures and modes of activity,\ngradually become unlike in both--gradually become mutually-dependent parts,\ndiverse in their natures and functions.\n\nThe doctrine of the progressive division of labour, to which we are here\nintroduced, is familiar to all readers. And further, the analogy between\nthe economical division of labour and the \"physiological division of\nlabour,\" is so striking, as long since to have drawn the attention of\nscientific naturalists: so striking, indeed, that the expression\n\"physiological division of labour,\" has been suggested by it. It is not\nneedful, therefore, that we should treat this part of our subject in great\ndetail. We shall content ourselves with noting a few general and\nsignificant facts, not manifest on a first inspection.\n\nThroughout the whole animal kingdom, from the _C[oe]lenterata_ upwards, the\nfirst stage of evolution is the same. Equally in the germ of a polype and\nin the human ovum, the aggregated mass of cells out of which the creature\nis to arise, gives origin to a peripheral layer of cells, slightly\ndiffering from the rest which they include; and this layer subsequently\ndivides into two--the inner, lying in contact with the included yelk, being\ncalled the mucous layer, and the outer, exposed to surrounding agencies,\nbeing called the serous layer: or, in the terms used by Prof. Huxley, in\ndescribing the development of the _Hydrozoa_--the endoderm and ectoderm.\nThis primary division marks out a fundamental contrast of parts in the\nfuture organism. From the mucous layer, or endoderm, is developed the\napparatus of nutrition; while from the serous layer, or ectoderm, is\ndeveloped the apparatus of external action. Out of the one arise the organs\nby which food is prepared and absorbed, oxygen imbibed, and blood purified;\nwhile out of the other arise the nervous, muscular, and osseous systems, by\nwhose combined actions the movements of the body as a whole are effected.\nThough this is not a rigorously-correct distinction, seeing that some\norgans involve both of these primitive membranes, yet high authorities\nagree in stating it as a broad general distinction.\n\nWell, in the evolution of a society, we see a primary differentiation of\nanalogous kind; which similarly underlies the whole future structure. As\nalready pointed out, the only manifest contrast of parts in primitive\nsocieties, is that between the governing and the governed. In the least\norganized tribes, the council of chiefs may be a body of men distinguished\nsimply by greater courage or experience. In more organized tribes, the\nchief-class is definitely separated from the lower class, and often\nregarded as different in nature--sometimes as god-descended. And later, we\nfind these two becoming respectively freemen and slaves, or nobles and\nserfs. A glance at their respective functions, makes it obvious that the\ngreat divisions thus early formed, stand to each other in a relation\nsimilar to that in which the primary divisions of the embryo stand to each\nother. For, from its first appearance, the class of chiefs is that by which\nthe external acts of the society are controlled: alike in war, in\nnegotiation, and in migration. Afterwards, while the upper class grows\ndistinct from the lower, and at the same time becomes more and more\nexclusively regulative and defensive in its functions, alike in the persons\nof kings and subordinate rulers, priests, and military leaders; the\ninferior class becomes more and more exclusively occupied in providing the\nnecessaries of life for the community at large. From the soil, with which\nit comes in most direct contact, the mass of the people takes up and\nprepares for use, the food and such rude articles of manufacture as are\nknown; while the overlying mass of superior men, maintained by the working\npopulation, deals with circumstances external to the\ncommunity--circumstances with which, by position, it is more immediately\nconcerned. Ceasing by-and-by to have any knowledge of, or power over, the\nconcerns of the society as a whole, the serf-class becomes devoted to the\nprocesses of alimentation; while the noble class, ceasing to take any part\nin the processes of alimentation, becomes devoted to the co-ordinated\nmovements of the entire body politic.\n\nEqually remarkable is a further analogy of like kind. After the mucous and\nserous layers of the embryo have separated, there presently arises between\nthe two, a third, known to physiologists as the vascular layer--a layer out\nof which are developed the chief blood-vessels. The mucous layer absorbs\nnutriment from the mass of yelk it encloses; this nutriment has to be\ntransferred to the overlying serous layer, out of which the nervo-muscular\nsystem is being developed; and between the two arises a vascular system by\nwhich the transfer is effected--a system of vessels which continues ever\nafter to be the transferrer of nutriment from the places where it is\nabsorbed and prepared, to the places where it is needed for growth and\nrepair. Well, may we not trace a parallel step in social progress?\n\nBetween the governing and the governed, there at first exists no\nintermediate class; and even in some societies that have reached\nconsiderable sizes, there are scarcely any but the nobles and their kindred\non the one hand, and the serfs on the other: the social structure being\nsuch, that the transfer of commodities takes place directly from slaves to\ntheir masters. But in societies of a higher type, there grows up between\nthese two primitive classes, another--the trading or middle class. Equally,\nat first as now, we may see that, speaking generally, this middle class is\nthe analogue of the middle layer in the embryo. For all traders are\nessentially distributors. Whether they be wholesale dealers, who collect\ninto large masses the commodities of various producers; or whether they be\nretailers, who divide out to those who want them, the masses of commodities\nthus collected together; all mercantile men are agents of transfer from the\nplaces where things are produced to the places where they are consumed.\nThus the distributing apparatus of a society, answers to the distributing\napparatus of a living body; not only in its functions, but in its\nintermediate origin and subsequent position, and in the time of its\nappearance.\n\nWithout enumerating the minor differentiations which these three great\nclasses afterwards undergo, we will merely note that throughout, they\nfollow the same general law with the differentiations of an individual\norganism. In a society, as in a rudimentary animal, we have seen that the\nmost general and broadly contrasted divisions are the first to make their\nappearance; and of the subdivisions it continues true in both cases, that\nthey arise in the order of decreasing generality.\n\nLet us observe next, that in the one case as in the other, the\nspecializations are at first very incomplete; and become more complete as\norganization progresses. We saw that in primitive tribes, as in the\nsimplest animals, there remains much community of function between the\nparts that are nominally different--that, for instance, the class of chiefs\nlong remain industrially the same as the inferior class; just as in a\n_Hydra_, the property of contractility is possessed by the units of the\nendoderm as well as by those of the ectoderm. We noted also how, as the\nsociety advanced, the two great primitive classes partook less and less of\neach other's functions. And we have here to remark, that all subsequent\nspecializations are at first vague, and gradually become distinct. \"In the\ninfancy of society,\" says M. Guizot, \"everything is confused and uncertain;\nthere is as yet no fixed and precise line of demarcation between the\ndifferent powers in a state.\" \"Originally kings lived like other\nlandowners, on the incomes derived from their own private estates.\" Nobles\nwere petty kings; and kings only the most powerful nobles. Bishops were\nfeudal lords and military leaders. The right of coining money was possessed\nby powerful subjects, and by the Church, as well as by the king. Every\nleading man exercised alike the functions of landowner, farmer, soldier,\nstatesman, judge. Retainers were now soldiers, and now labourers, as the\nday required. But by degrees the Church has lost all civil jurisdiction;\nthe State has exercised less and less control over religious teaching; the\nmilitary class has grown a distinct one; handicrafts have concentrated in\ntowns; and the spinning-wheels of scattered farmhouses have disappeared\nbefore the machinery of manufacturing districts. Not only is all progress\nfrom the homogeneous to the heterogeneous; but at the same time it is from\nthe indefinite to the definite.\n\nAnother fact which should not be passed over, is that in the evolution of a\nlarge society out of an aggregation of small ones, there is a gradual\nobliteration of the original lines of separation--a change to which, also,\nwe may see analogies in living bodies. Throughout the sub-kingdom\n_Annulosa_, this is clearly and variously illustrated. Among the lower\ntypes of this sub-kingdom, the body consists of numerous segments that are\nalike in nearly every particular. Each has its external ring; its pair of\nlegs, if the creature has legs; its equal portion of intestines, or else\nits separate stomach; its equal portion of the great blood-vessel, or, in\nsome cases, its separate heart; its equal portion of the nervous cord, and,\nperhaps, its separate pair of ganglia. But in the highest types, as in the\nlarge _Crustacea_, many of the segments are completely fused together; and\nthe internal organs are no longer uniformly repeated in all the segments.\nNow the segments of which nations at first consist, lose their separate\nexternal and internal structures in a similar manner. In feudal times, the\nminor communities governed by feudal lords, were severally organized in the\nsame rude way; and were held together only by the fealty of their\nrespective rulers to some suzerain. But along with the growth of a central\npower, the demarcations of these local communities disappeared; and their\nseparate organizations merged into the general organization. The like is\nseen on a larger scale in the fusion of England, Wales, Scotland, and\nIreland; and, on the Continent, in the coalescence of provinces into\nkingdoms. Even in the disappearance of law-made divisions, the process is\nanalogous. Among the Anglo-Saxons, England was divided into tithings,\nhundreds, and counties: there were county courts, courts of hundred, and\ncourts of tithing. The courts of tithing disappeared first; then the courts\nof hundred, which have, however, left traces; while the county-jurisdiction\nstill exists.\n\nBut chiefly it is to be noted, that there eventually grows up an\norganization which has no reference to these original divisions, but\ntraverses them in various directions, as is the case in creatures belonging\nto the sub-kingdom just named; and, further, that in both cases it is the\nsustaining organization which thus traverses old boundaries, while in both\ncases it is the governmental, or co-ordinating organization in which the\noriginal boundaries continue traceable. Thus, in the highest _Annulosa_,\nthe exo-skeleton and the muscular system, never lose all traces of their\nprimitive segmentation; but throughout a great part of the body, the\ncontained viscera do not in the least conform to the external divisions.\nSimilarly, with a nation, we see that while, for governmental purposes,\nsuch divisions as counties and parishes still exist, the structure\ndeveloped for carrying on the nutrition of society, wholly ignores these\nboundaries: our great cotton-manufacture spreads out of Lancashire into\nNorth Derbyshire; Leicestershire and Nottinghamshire have long divided the\nstocking-trade between them; one great centre for the production of iron\nand iron-goods, includes parts of Warwickshire, Staffordshire,\nWorcestershire; and those various specializations of agriculture which have\nmade different parts of England noted for different products, show no more\nrespect to county-boundaries than do our growing towns to the boundaries of\nparishes.\n\nIf, after contemplating these analogies of structure, we inquire whether\nthere are any such analogies between the processes of organic change, the\nanswer is--yes. The causes which lead to increase of bulk in any part of\nthe body politic, are of like nature with those which lead to increase of\nbulk in any part of an individual body. In both cases the antecedent is\ngreater functional activity, consequent on greater demand. Each limb,\nviscus, gland, or other member of an animal, is developed by exercise--by\nactively discharging the duties which the body at large requires of it; and\nsimilarly, any class of labourers or artisans, any manufacturing centre, or\nany official agency, begins to enlarge when the community devolves on it an\nincrease of work. In each case, too, growth has its conditions and its\nlimits. That any organ in a living being may grow by exercise, there needs\na due supply of blood: all action implies waste; blood brings the materials\nfor repair; and before there can be growth, the quantity of blood supplied\nmust be more than that requisite for repair.\n\nSo is it in a society. If to some district which elaborates for the\ncommunity particular commodities--say the woollens of Yorkshire--there\ncomes an augmented demand; and if, in fulfilment of this demand, a certain\nexpenditure and wear of the manufacturing organization are incurred; and\nif, in payment for the extra supply of woollens sent away, there comes back\nonly such quantity of commodities as replaces the expenditure, and makes\ngood the waste of life and machinery; there can clearly be no growth. That\nthere may be growth, the commodities obtained in return must be more than\nsufficient for these ends; and just in proportion as the surplus is great\nwill the growth be rapid. Whence it is manifest that what in commercial\naffairs we call _profit_, answers to the excess of nutrition over waste in\na living body. Moreover, in both cases, when the functional activity is\nhigh and the nutrition defective, there results not growth but decay. If in\nan animal, any organ is worked so hard that the channels which bring blood\ncannot furnish enough for repair, the organ dwindles; and if in the body\npolitic, some part has been stimulated into great productivity, and cannot\nafterwards get paid for all its produce, certain of its members become\nbankrupt, and it decreases in size.\n\nOne more parallelism to be here noted, is, that the different parts of the\nsocial organism, like the different parts of an individual organism,\ncompete for nutriment; and severally obtain more or less of it according as\nthey are discharging more or less duty. If a man's brain be overexcited, it\nwill abstract blood from his viscera and stop digestion; or digestion\nactively going on, will so affect the circulation through the brain as to\ncause drowsiness; or great muscular exertion will determine such a quantity\nof blood to the limbs, as to arrest digestion or cerebral action, as the\ncase may be. So, likewise, in a society, it frequently happens that great\nactivity in some one direction, causes partial arrests of activity\nelsewhere, by abstracting capital, that is commodities: as instance the way\nin which the sudden development of our railway-system hampered commercial\noperations; or the way in which the raising of a large military force\ntemporarily stops the growth of leading industries.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe last few paragraphs introduce the next division of our subject. Almost\nunawares we have come upon the analogy which exists between the blood of a\nliving body, and the circulating mass of commodities in the body politic.\nWe have now to trace out this analogy from its simplest to its most complex\nmanifestations.\n\nIn the lowest animals there exists no blood properly so called. Through the\nsmall aggregation of cells which make up a _Hydra_, permeate the juices\nabsorbed from the food. There is no apparatus for elaborating a\nconcentrated and purified nutriment, and distributing it among the\ncomponent units; but these component units directly imbibe the unprepared\nnutriment, either from the digestive cavity or from each other. May we not\nsay that this is what takes place in an aboriginal tribe? All its members\nseverally obtain for themselves the necessaries of life in their crude\nstates; and severally prepare them for their own uses as well as they can.\nWhen there arises a decided differentiation between the governing and the\ngoverned, some amount of transfer begins between those inferior\nindividuals, who, as workers, come directly in contact with the products of\nthe earth, and those superior ones who exercise the higher functions--a\ntransfer parallel to that which accompanies the differentiation of the\nectoderm from the endoderm. In the one case, as in the other, however, it\nis a transfer of products that are little if at all prepared; and takes\nplace directly from the unit which obtains to the unit which consumes,\nwithout entering into any general current.\n\nPassing to larger organisms--individual and social--we find the first\nadvance upon this arrangement. Where, as among the compound _Hydrozoa_,\nthere is an aggregation of many such primitive groups as form _Hydrae_; or\nwhere, as in a _Medusa_, one of these groups has become of great size;\nthere exist rude channels running throughout the substance of the body: not\nhowever, channels for the conveyance of prepared nutriment, but mere\nprolongations of the digestive cavity, through which the crude\nchyle-aqueous fluid reaches the remoter parts, and is moved backwards and\nforwards by the creature's contractions. Do we not find in some of the more\nadvanced primitive communities, an analogous condition? When the men,\npartially or fully united into one society, become numerous--when, as\nusually happens, they cover a surface of country not everywhere alike in\nits products--when, more especially, there arise considerable classes that\nare not industrial; some process of exchange and distribution inevitably\narises. Traversing here and there the earth's surface, covered by that\nvegetation on which human life depends, and in which, as we say, the units\nof a society are imbedded, there are formed indefinite paths, along which\nsome of the necessaries of life occasionally pass, to be bartered for\nothers which presently come back along the same channels. Note, however,\nthat at first little else but crude commodities are thus\ntransferred--fruits, fish, pigs or cattle, skins, etc.: there are few, if\nany, manufactured products or articles prepared for consumption. And note\nfurther, that such distribution of these unprepared necessaries of life as\ntakes place, is but occasional--goes on with a certain slow, irregular\nrhythm.\n\nFurther progress in the elaboration and distribution of nutriment, or of\ncommodities, is a necessary accompaniment of further differentiation of\nfunctions in the individual body or in the body politic. As fast as each\norgan of a living animal becomes confined to a special action, it must\nbecome dependent on the rest for all those materials which its position and\nduty do not permit it to obtain for itself; in the same way that, as fast\nas each particular class of a community becomes exclusively occupied in\nproducing its own commodity, it must become dependent on the rest for the\nother commodities it needs. And, simultaneously, a more\nperfectly-elaborated blood will result from a highly-specialized group of\nnutritive organs, severally adapted to prepare its different elements; in\nthe same way that the stream of commodities circulating throughout a\nsociety, will be of superior quality in proportion to the greater division\nof labour among the workers. Observe, also, that in either case the\ncirculating mass of nutritive materials, besides coming gradually to\nconsist of better ingredients, also grows more complex. An increase in the\nnumber of the unlike organs which add to the blood their waste matters, and\ndemand from it the different materials they severally need, implies a blood\nmore heterogeneous in composition--an _a priori_ conclusion which,\naccording to Dr. Williams, is inductively confirmed by examination of the\nblood throughout the various grades of the animal kingdom. And similarly,\nit is manifest that as fast as the division of labour among the classes of\na community, becomes greater, there must be an increasing heterogeneity in\nthe currents of merchandise flowing throughout that community.\n\nThe circulating mass of nutritive materials in individual organisms and in\nsocial organisms, becoming alike better in the quality of its ingredients\nand more heterogeneous in composition, as the type of structure becomes\nhigher; eventually has added to it in both cases another element, which is\nnot itself nutritive, but facilitates the process of nutrition. We refer,\nin the case of the individual organism, to the blood-discs; and in the case\nof the social organism, to money. This analogy has been observed by Liebig,\nwho in his \"Familiar Letters on Chemistry,\" says:\n\n  \"Silver and gold have to perform in the organization of the State,\n  the same function as the blood corpuscles in the human organization.\n  As these round discs, without themselves taking an immediate share in\n  the nutritive process, are the medium, the essential condition of the\n  change of matter, of the production of the heat, and of the force by\n  which the temperature of the body is kept up and the motions of the\n  blood and all the juices are determined, so has gold become the\n  medium of all activity in the life of the State.\"\n\nAnd blood-corpuscles being like money in their functions, and in the fact\nthat they are not consumed in nutrition, he further points out, that the\nnumber of them which in a considerable interval flows through the great\ncentres, is enormous when compared with their absolute number; just as the\nquantity of money which annually passes through the great mercantile\ncentres, is enormous when compared with the total quantity of money in the\nkingdom. Nor is this all. Liebig has omitted the significant circumstance,\nthat only at a certain stage of organization does this element of the\ncirculation make its appearance. Throughout extensive divisions of the\nlower animals, the blood contains no corpuscles; and in societies of low\ncivilization, there is no money.\n\nThus far, we have considered the analogy between the blood in a living body\nand the consumable and circulating commodities in the body politic. Let us\nnow compare the appliances by which they are respectively distributed. We\nshall find in the development of these appliances, parallelisms not less\nremarkable than those above set forth. Already we have shown that, as\nclasses, wholesale and retail distributors discharge in a society, the\noffice which the vascular system discharges in an individual creature; that\nthey come into existence later than the other two great classes, as the\nvascular layer appears later than the mucous and serous layers; and that\nthey occupy a like intermediate position. Here, however, it remains to be\npointed out that a complete conception of the circulating system in a\nsociety, includes not only the active human agents who propel the currents\nof commodities, and regulate their distribution; but includes, also, the\nchannels of communication. It is the formation and arrangement of these, to\nwhich we now direct attention.\n\nGoing back once more to those lower animals in which there is found nothing\nbut a partial diffusion, not of blood, but only of crude nutritive fluids,\nit is to be remarked that the channels through which the diffusion takes\nplace, are mere excavations through the half-organized substance of the\nbody: they have no lining membranes, but are mere _lacunae_ traversing a\nrude tissue. Now countries in which civilization is but commencing, display\na like condition: there are no roads properly so called; but the wilderness\nof vegetal life covering the earth's surface, is pierced by tracks, through\nwhich the distribution of crude commodities takes place. And while in both\ncases, the acts of distribution occur only at long intervals (the currents,\nafter a pause, now setting towards a general centre, and now away from it),\nthe transfer is in both cases slow and difficult. But among other\naccompaniments of progress, common to animals and societies, comes the\nformation of more definite and complete channels of communication.\nBlood-vessels acquire distinct walls; roads are fenced and gravelled. This\nadvance is first seen in those roads or vessels that are nearest to the\nchief centres of distribution; while the peripheral roads and peripheral\nvessels, long continue in their primitive states. At a yet later stage of\ndevelopment, where comparative finish of structure is found throughout the\nsystem as well as near the chief centres, there remains in both cases the\ndifference, that the main channels are comparatively broad and straight,\nwhile the subordinate ones are narrow and tortuous in proportion to their\nremoteness.\n\nLastly, it is to be remarked that there ultimately arise in the higher\nsocial organisms, as in the higher individual organisms, main channels of\ndistribution still more distinguished by their perfect structures, their\ncomparative straightness, and the absence of those small branches which the\nminor channels perpetually give off. And in railways we also see, for the\nfirst time in the social organism, a specialization with respect to the\ndirections of the currents--a system of double channels conveying currents\nin opposite directions, as do the arteries and veins of a well-developed\nanimal.\n\nThese parallelisms in the evolutions and structures of the circulating\nsystems, introduce us to others in the kinds and rates of the movements\ngoing on through them. In the lowest societies, as in the lowest creatures,\nthe distribution of crude nutriment is by slow gurgitations and\nregurgitations. In creatures that have rude vascular systems, as in\nsocieties that are beginning to have roads and some transfer of commodities\nalong them, there is no regular circulation in definite courses; but\ninstead, periodical changes of the currents--now towards this point, and\nnow towards that. Through each part of an inferior mollusk's body, the\nblood flows for a while in one direction, then stops, and flows in the\nopposite direction; just as through a rudely-organized society, the\ndistribution of merchandise is slowly carried on by great fairs, occurring\nin different localities, to and from which the currents periodically set.\nOnly animals of tolerably complete organizations, like advanced\ncommunities, are permeated by constant currents that are definitely\ndirected. In living bodies, the local and variable currents disappear when\nthere grow up great centres of circulation, generating more powerful\ncurrents, by a rhythm which ends in a quick, regular pulsation. And when in\nsocial bodies, there arise great centres of commercial activity, producing\nand exchanging large quantities of commodities, the rapid and continuous\nstreams drawn in and emitted by these centres, subdue all minor and local\ncirculations: the slow rhythm of fairs merges into the faster one of weekly\nmarkets, and in the chief centres of distribution, weekly markets merge\ninto daily markets; while in place of the languid transfer from place to\nplace, taking place at first weekly, then twice or thrice a week, we\nby-and-by get daily transfer, and finally transfer many times a day--the\noriginal sluggish, irregular rhythm, becomes a rapid, equable pulse.\n\nMark, too, that in both cases the increased activity, like the greater\nperfection of structure, is much less conspicuous at the periphery of the\nvascular system. On main lines of railway, we have, perhaps, a score trains\nin each direction daily, going at from thirty to fifty miles an hour; as,\nthrough the great arteries, the blood rushes rapidly in successive gushes.\nAlong high roads, there move vehicles conveying men and commodities with\nmuch less, though still considerable, speed, and with a much less decided\nrhythm; as, in the smaller arteries, the speed of the blood is greatly\ndiminished, and the pulse less conspicuous. In parish-roads, narrow, less\ncomplete, and more tortuous, the rate of movement is further decreased and\nthe rhythm scarcely traceable; as in the ultimate arteries. In those still\nmore imperfect by-roads which lead from these parish-roads to scattered\nfarmhouses and cottages, the motion is yet slower and very irregular; just\nas we find it in the capillaries. While along the field-roads, which, in\ntheir unformed, unfenced state, are typical of _lacunae_, the movement is\nthe slowest, the most irregular, and the most infrequent; as it is, not\nonly in the primitive _lacunae_ of animals, and societies, but as it is also\nin those _lacunae_ in which the vascular system ends among extensive\nfamilies of inferior creatures.\n\nThus, then, we find between the distributing systems of living bodies and\nthe distributing systems of bodies politic, wonderfully close parallelisms.\nIn the lowest forms of individual and social organisms, there exist neither\nprepared nutritive matters nor distributing appliances; and in both, these,\narising as necessary accompaniments of the differentiation of parts,\napproach perfection as this differentiation approaches completeness. In\nanimals, as in societies, the distributing agencies begin to show\nthemselves at the same relative periods, and in the same relative\npositions. In the one, as in the other, the nutritive materials circulated,\nare at first crude and simple, gradually become better elaborated and more\nheterogeneous, and have eventually added to them a new element facilitating\nthe nutritive processes. The channels of communication pass through similar\nphases of development, which bring them to analogous forms. And the\ndirections, rhythms, and rates of circulation, progress by like steps to\nlike final conditions.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe come at length to the nervous system. Having noticed the primary\ndifferentiation of societies into the governing and governed classes, and\nobserved its analogy to the differentiation of the two primary tissues\nwhich respectively develope into organs of external action and organs of\nalimentation; having noticed some of the leading analogies between the\ndevelopment of industrial arrangements and that of the alimentary\napparatus; and having, above, more fully traced the analogies between the\ndistributing systems, social and individual; we have now to compare the\nappliances by which a society, as a whole, is regulated, with those by\nwhich the movements of an individual creature are regulated. We shall find\nhere, parallelisms equally striking with those already detailed.\n\nThe class out of which governmental organization originates, is, as we have\nsaid, analogous in its relations to the ectoderm of the lowest animals and\nof embryonic forms. And as this primitive membrane, out of which the\nnervo-muscular system is evolved, must, even in the first stage of its\ndifferentiation, be slightly distinguished from the rest by that greater\nimpressibility and contractility characterizing the organs to which it\ngives rise; so, in that superior class which is eventually transformed into\nthe directo-executive system of a society (its legislative and defensive\nappliances), does there exist in the beginning, a larger endowment of the\ncapacities required for these higher social functions. Always, in rude\nassemblages of men, the strongest, most courageous, and most sagacious,\nbecome rulers and leaders; and, in a tribe of some standing, this results\nin the establishment of a dominant class, characterized on the average by\nthose mental and bodily qualities which fit them for deliberation and\nvigorous combined action. Thus that greater impressibility and\ncontractility, which in the rudest animal types characterize the units of\nthe ectoderm, characterize also the units of the primitive social ectoderm;\nsince impressibility and contractility are the respective roots of\nintelligence and strength.\n\nAgain, in the unmodified ectoderm, as we see it in the _Hydra_, the units\nare all endowed both with impressibility and contractility; but as we\nascend to higher types of organization, the ectoderm differentiates into\nclasses of units which divide those two functions between them: some,\nbecoming exclusively impressible, cease to be contractile; while some,\nbecoming exclusively contractile, cease to be impressible. Similarly with\nsocieties. In an aboriginal tribe, the directive and executive functions\nare diffused in a mingled form throughout the whole governing class. Each\nminor chief commands those under him, and if need be, himself coerces them\ninto obedience. The council of chiefs itself carries out on the\nbattle-field its own decisions. The head chief not only makes laws, but\nadministers justice with his own hands. In larger and more settled\ncommunities, however, the directive and executive agencies begin to grow\ndistinct from each other. As fast as his duties accumulate, the head chief\nor king confines himself more and more to directing public affairs, and\nleaves the execution of his will to others: he deputes others to enforce\nsubmission, to inflict punishments, or to carry out minor acts of offence\nand defence; and only on occasions when, perhaps, the safety of the society\nand his own supremacy are at stake, does he begin to act as well as direct.\nAs this differentiation establishes itself, the characteristics of the\nruler begin to change. No longer, as in an aboriginal tribe, the strongest\nand most daring man, the tendency is for him to become the man of greatest\ncunning, foresight, and skill in the management of others; for in societies\nthat have advanced beyond the first stage, it is chiefly such qualities\nthat insure success in gaining supreme power, and holding it against\ninternal and external enemies. Thus that member of the governing class who\ncomes to be the chief directing agent, and so plays the same part that a\nrudimentary nervous centre does in an unfolding organism, is usually one\nendowed with some superiorities of nervous organization.\n\nIn those somewhat larger and more complex communities possessing, perhaps,\na separate military class, a priesthood, and dispersed masses of population\nrequiring local control, there necessarily grow up subordinate governing\nagents; who as their duties accumulate, severally become more directive and\nless executive in their characters. And when, as commonly happens, the king\nbegins to collect round himself advisers who aid him by communicating\ninformation, preparing subjects for his judgment, and issuing his orders;\nwe may say that the form of organization is comparable to one very general\namong inferior types of animals, in which there exists a chief ganglion\nwith a few dispersed minor ganglia under its control.\n\nThe analogies between the evolution of governmental structures in\nsocieties, and the evolution of governmental structures in living bodies,\nare, however, more strikingly displayed during the formation of nations by\nthe coalescence of small communities--a process already shown to be, in\nseveral respects, parallel to the development of those creatures that\nprimarily consist of many like segments. Among other points of community\nbetween the successive rings which make up the body in the lower\n_Articulata_, is the possession of similar pairs of ganglia. These pairs of\nganglia, though united together by nerves, are very incompletely dependent\non any general controlling power. Hence it results that when the body is\ncut in two, the hinder part continues to move forward under the propulsion\nof its numerous legs; and that when the chain of ganglia has been divided\nwithout severing the body, the hind limbs may be seen trying to propel the\nbody in one direction, while the fore limbs are trying to propel it in\nanother. Among the higher _Articulata_, however, a number of the anterior\npairs of ganglia, besides growing larger, unite in one mass; and this great\ncephalic ganglion, becoming the co-ordinator of all the creature's\nmovements, there no longer exists much local independence.\n\nNow may we not in the growth of a consolidated kingdom out of petty\nsovereignties or baronies, observe analogous changes? Like the chiefs and\nprimitive rulers above described, feudal lords, exercising supreme power\nover their respective groups of retainers, discharge functions analogous to\nthose of rudimentary nervous centres; and we know that at first they, like\ntheir analogues, are distinguished by superiorities of directive and\nexecutive organization. Among these local governing centres, there is, in\nearly feudal times, very little subordination. They are in frequent\nantagonism; they are individually restrained chiefly by the influence of\nlarge parties in their own class; and are but imperfectly and irregularly\nsubject to that most powerful member of their order who has gained the\nposition of head suzerain or king. As the growth and organization of the\nsociety progresses, these local directive centres fall more and more under\nthe control of a chief directive centre. Closer commercial union between\nthe several segments, is accompanied by closer governmental union; and\nthese minor rulers end in being little more than agents who administer, in\ntheir several localities, the laws made by the supreme ruler: just as the\nlocal ganglia above described, eventually become agents which enforce, in\ntheir respective segments, the orders of the cephalic ganglion.\n\nThe parallelism holds still further. We remarked above, when speaking of\nthe rise of aboriginal kings, that in proportion as their territories and\nduties increase, they are obliged not only to perform their executive\nfunctions by deputy, but also to gather round themselves advisers to aid\nthem in their directive functions; and that thus, in place of a solitary\ngoverning unit, there grows up a group of governing units, comparable to a\nganglion consisting of many cells. Let us here add, that the advisers, and\nchief officers who thus form the rudiment of a ministry, tend from the\nbeginning to exercise a certain control over the ruler. By the information\nthey give and the opinions they express, they sway his judgment and affect\nhis commands. To this extent he therefore becomes a channel through which\nare communicated the directions originating with them; and in course of\ntime, when the advice of ministers becomes the acknowledged source of his\nactions, the king assumes very much the character of an automatic centre,\nreflecting the impressions made on him from without.\n\nBeyond this complication of governmental structure, many societies do not\nprogress; but in some, a further development takes place. Our own case best\nillustrates this further development, and its further analogies. To kings\nand their ministries have been added, in England, other great directive\ncentres, exercising a control which, at first small, has been gradually\nbecoming predominant: as with the great governing ganglia that especially\ndistinguish the highest classes of living beings. Strange as the assertion\nwill be thought, our Houses of Parliament discharge in the social economy,\nfunctions that are in sundry respects comparable to those discharged by the\ncerebral masses in a vertebrate animal. As it is in the nature of a single\nganglion to be affected only by special stimuli from particular parts of\nthe body; so it is in the nature of a single ruler to be swayed in his acts\nby exclusive personal or class interests. As it is in the nature of an\naggregation of ganglia, connected with the primary one, to convey to it a\ngreater variety of influences from more numerous organs, and thus to make\nits acts conform to more numerous requirements; so it is in the nature of a\nking surrounded by subsidiary controlling powers, to adapt his rule to a\ngreater number of public exigencies. And as it is in the nature of those\ngreat and latest-developed ganglia which distinguish the higher animals, to\ninterpret and combine the multiplied and varied impressions conveyed to\nthem from all parts of the system, and to regulate the actions in such way\nas duly to regard them all; so it is in the nature of those great and\nlatest-developed legislative bodies which distinguish the most advanced\nsocieties, to interpret and combine the wishes and complaints of all\nclasses and localities, and to regulate public affairs as much as possible\nin harmony with the general wants.\n\nThe cerebrum co-ordinates the countless heterogeneous considerations which\naffect the present and future welfare of the individual as a whole; and the\nlegislature co-ordinates the countless heterogeneous considerations which\naffect the immediate and remote welfare of the whole community. We may\ndescribe the office of the brain as that of _averaging_ the interests of\nlife, physical, intellectual, moral, social; and a good brain is one in\nwhich the desires answering to these respective interests are so balanced,\nthat the conduct they jointly dictate, sacrifices none of them. Similarly,\nwe may describe the office of a Parliament as that of _averaging_ the\ninterests of the various classes in a community; and a good Parliament is\none in which the parties answering to these respective interests are so\nbalanced, that their united legislation concedes to each class as much as\nconsists with the claims of the rest. Besides being comparable in their\nduties, these great directive centres, social and individual, are\ncomparable in the processes by which their duties are discharged.\n\nIt is now an acknowledged truth in psychology, that the cerebrum is not\noccupied with direct impressions from without, but with the ideas of such\nimpressions: instead of the actual sensations produced in the body, and\ndirectly appreciated by the sensory ganglia or primitive nervous centres,\nthe cerebrum receives only the representations of these sensations; and its\nconsciousness is called _representative_ consciousness, to distinguish it\nfrom the original or _presentative_ consciousness. Is it not significant\nthat we have hit on the same word to distinguish the function of our House\nof Commons? We call it a _representative_ body, because the interests with\nwhich it deals--the pains and pleasures about which it consults--are not\ndirectly presented to it, but represented to it by its various members; and\na debate is a conflict of representations of the evils or benefits likely\nto follow from a proposed course--a description which applies with equal\ntruth to a debate in the individual consciousness. In both cases, too,\nthese great governing masses take no part in the executive functions. As,\nafter a conflict in the cerebrum, those desires which finally predominate,\nact on the subjacent ganglia, and through their instrumentality determine\nthe bodily actions; so the parties which, after a parliamentary struggle,\ngain the victory, do not themselves carry out their wishes, but get them\ncarried out by the executive divisions of the Government. The fulfilment of\nall legislative decisions still devolves on the original directive\ncentres--the impulse passing from the Parliament to the Ministers, and from\nthe Ministers to the King, in whose name everything is done; just as those\nsmaller, first-developed ganglia, which in the lowest vertebrata are the\nchief controlling agents, are still, in the brains of the higher\nvertebrata, the agents through which the dictates of the cerebrum are\nworked out.\n\nMoreover, in both cases these original centres become increasingly\nautomatic. In the developed vertebrate animal, they have little function\nbeyond that of conveying impressions to, and executing the determinations\nof, the larger centres. In our highly organized government, the monarch has\nlong been lapsing into a passive agent of Parliament; and now, ministers\nare rapidly falling into the same position.\n\nNay, between the two cases there is a parallelism, even in respect of the\nexceptions to this automatic action. For in the individual creature, it\nhappens that under circumstances of sudden alarm, as from a loud sound\nclose at hand, an unexpected object starting up in front, or a slip from\ninsecure footing, the danger is guarded against by some quick involuntary\njump, or adjustment of the limbs, that takes place before there is time to\nconsider the impending evil, and take deliberate measures to avoid it: the\nrationale of which is, that these violent impressions produced on the\nsenses, are reflected from the sensory ganglia to the spinal cord and\nmuscles, without, as in ordinary cases, first passing through the cerebrum.\nIn like manner, on national emergencies, calling for prompt action, the\nKing and Ministry, not having time to lay the matter before the great\ndeliberative bodies, themselves issue commands for the requisite movements\nor precautions: the primitive, and now almost automatic, directive centres,\nresume for a moment their original uncontrolled power. And then, strangest\nof all, observe that in either case there is an afterprocess of approval or\ndisapproval. The individual on recovering from his automatic start, at once\ncontemplates the cause of his fright; and, according to the case, concludes\nthat it was well he moved as he did, or condemns himself for his groundless\nalarm. In like manner, the deliberative powers of the State, discuss, as\nsoon as may be, the unauthorized acts of the executive powers; and,\ndeciding that the reasons were or were not sufficient, grant or withhold a\nbill of indemnity.[V]\n\n  [V] It may be well to warn the reader against an error fallen into by\n      one who criticised this essay on its first publication--the error\n      of supposing that the analogy here intended to be drawn, is a\n      specific analogy between the organization of society in England,\n      and the human organization. As said at the outset, no such\n      specific analogy exists. The above parallel, is one between the\n      most-developed systems of governmental organization, individual\n      and social; and the vertebrate type is instanced, merely as\n      exhibiting this most-developed system. If any specific comparison\n      were made, which it cannot rationally be, it would be to some\n      much lower vertebrate form than the human.\n\nThus far in comparing the governmental organization of the body politic\nwith that of an individual body, we have considered only the respective\nco-ordinating centres. We have yet to consider the channels through which\nthese co-ordinating centres receive information and convey commands. In the\nsimplest societies, as in the simplest organisms, there is no \"internuncial\napparatus,\" as Hunter styled the nervous system. Consequently, impressions\ncan be but slowly propagated from unit to unit throughout the whole mass.\nThe same progress, however, which, in animal-organization, shows itself in\nthe establishment of ganglia or directive centres, shows itself also in the\nestablishment of nerve-threads, through which the ganglia receive and\nconvey impressions, and so control remote organs. And in societies the like\neventually takes place.\n\nAfter a long period during which the directive centres communicate with\nvarious parts of the society through other means, there at last comes into\nexistence an \"internuncial apparatus,\" analogous to that found in\nindividual bodies. The comparison of telegraph-wires to nerves, is familiar\nto all. It applies, however, to an extent not commonly supposed. We do not\nrefer to the near alliance between the subtle forces employed in the two\ncases; though it is now held that the nerve-force, if not literally\nelectric, is still a special form of electric action, related to the\nordinary form much as magnetism is. But we refer to the structural\narrangements of our telegraph-system. Thus, throughout the vertebrate\nsub-kingdom, the great nerve-bundles diverge from the vertebrate axis, side\nby side with the great arteries; and similarly, our groups of\ntelegraph-wires are carried along the sides of our railways. The most\nstriking parallelism, however, remains. Into each great bundle of nerves,\nas it leaves the axis of the body along with an artery, there enters a\nbranch of the sympathetic nerve; which branch, accompanying the artery\nthroughout its ramifications, has the function of regulating its diameter\nand otherwise controlling the flow of blood through it according to the\nlocal requirements. Analogously, in the group of telegraph-wires running\nalongside each railway, there is one for the purpose of regulating the\ntraffic--for retarding or expediting the flow of passengers and\ncommodities, as the local conditions demand. Probably, when our now\nrudimentary telegraph-system is fully developed, other analogies will be\ntraceable.\n\nSuch, then, is a general outline of the evidence which justifies, in\ndetail, the comparison of societies to living organisms. That they\ngradually increase in mass; that they become little by little more complex;\nthat at the same time their parts grow more mutually dependent; and that\nthey continue to live and grow as wholes, while successive generations of\ntheir units appear and disappear; are broad peculiarities which bodies\npolitic display, in common with all living bodies; and in which they and\nliving bodies differ from everything else. And on carrying out the\ncomparison in detail, we find that these major analogies involve many minor\nanalogies, far closer than might have been expected. To these we would\ngladly have added others. We had hoped to say something respecting the\ndifferent types of social organization, and something also on social\nmetamorphoses; but we have reached our assigned limits.\n\n\n\n\nXI. USE AND BEAUTY\n\n\nIn one of his essays, Emerson remarks, that what Nature at one time\nprovides for use, she afterwards turns to ornament; and he cites in\nillustration the structure of a sea-shell, in which the parts that have for\na while formed the mouth are at the next season of growth left behind, and\nbecome decorative nodes and spines.\n\nIt has often occurred to me that this same remark might be extended to the\nprogress of Humanity. Here, too, the appliances of one era serve as\nembellishments to the next. Equally in institutions, creeds, customs, and\nsuperstitions, we may trace this evolution of beauty out of what was once\npurely utilitarian.\n\nThe contrast between the feeling with which we regard portions of the\nEarth's surface still left in their original state, and the feeling with\nwhich the savage regarded them, is an instance that naturally comes first\nin order of time. If any one walking over Hampstead Heath, will note how\nstrongly its picturesqueness is brought out by contrast with the\nsurrounding cultivated fields and the masses of houses lying in the\ndistance; and will further reflect that, had this irregular gorse-covered\nsurface extended on all sides to the horizon, it would have looked dreary\nand prosaic rather than pleasing; he will see that to the primitive man a\ncountry so clothed presented no beauty at all. To him it was merely a haunt\nof wild animals, and a ground out of which roots might be dug. What have\nbecome for us places of relaxation and enjoyment--places for afternoon\nstrolls and for gathering flowers--were his places for labour and food,\nprobably arousing in his mind none but utilitarian associations.\n\nRuined castles afford an obvious instance of this metamorphosis of the\nuseful into the beautiful. To feudal barons and their retainers, security\nwas the chief, if not the only end, sought in choosing the sites and styles\nof their strongholds. Probably they aimed as little at the picturesque as\ndo the builders of cheap brick houses in our modern towns. Yet what where\nerected for shelter and safety, and what in those early days fulfilled an\nimportant function in the social economy, have now assumed a purely\nornamental character. They serve as scenes for picnics; pictures of them\ndecorate our drawing-rooms; and each supplies its surrounding districts\nwith legends for Christmas Eve.\n\nFollowing out the train of thought suggested by this last illustration, we\nmay see that not only do the material exuviae of past social states become\nthe ornaments of our landscapes; but that past habits, manners, and\narrangements, serve as ornamental elements in our literature. The tyrannies\nthat, to the serfs who bore them, were harsh and dreary facts; the feuds\nwhich, to those who took part in them, were very practical life-and-death\naffairs; the mailed, moated, sentinelled security that was irksome to the\nnobles who needed it; the imprisonments, and tortures, and escapes, which\nwere stern and quite prosaic realities to all concerned in them; have\nbecome to us material for romantic tales--material which when woven into\nIvanhoes and Marmions, serves for amusement in leisure hours, and become\npoetical by contrast with our daily lives.\n\nThus, also, is it with extinct creeds. Stonehenge, which in the hands of\nthe Druids had a governmental influence over men, is in our day a place for\nantiquarian excursions; and its attendant priests are worked up into an\nopera. Greek sculptures, preserved for their beauty in our galleries of\nart, and copied for the decoration of pleasure grounds and entrance halls,\nonce lived in men's minds as gods demanding obedience; as did also the\ngrotesque idols that now amuse the visitors to our museums.\n\nEqually marked is this change of function in the case of minor\nsuperstitions. The fairy lore, which in past times was matter of grave\nbelief, and held sway over people's conduct, has since been transformed\ninto ornament for _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, _The Tempest_, _The Fairy\nQueen_, and endless small tales and poems; and still affords subjects for\nchildren's story-books, themes for ballets, and plots for Planche's\nburlesques. Gnomes, and genii, and afrits, losing all their terrors, give\npiquancy to the woodcuts in our illustrated edition of the _Arabian\nNights_. While ghost-stories, and tales of magic and witchcraft, after\nserving to amuse boys and girls in their leisure hours, become matter for\njocose allusions that enliven tea-table conversation.\n\nEven our serious literature and our speeches are very generally relieved by\nornaments drawn from such sources. A Greek myth is often used as a parallel\nby which to vary the monotony of some grave argument. The lecturer breaks\nthe dead level of his practical discourse by illustrations drawn from\nbygone customs, events, or beliefs. And metaphors, similarly derived, give\nbrilliancy to political orations, and to _Times_ leading articles.\n\nIndeed, on careful inquiry, I think it will be found that we turn to\npurposes of beauty most bygone phenomena that are at all conspicuous. The\nbusts of great men in our libraries, and their tombs in our churches; the\nonce useful but now purely ornamental heraldic symbols; the monks, nuns,\nand convents, that give interest to a certain class of novels; the bronze\nmediaeval soldiers used for embellishing drawing-rooms; the gilt Apollos\nthat recline on time-pieces; the narratives that serve as plots for our\ngreat dramas; and the events that afford subjects for historical\npictures;--these and such like illustrations of the metamorphosis of the\nuseful into the beautiful, are so numerous as to suggest that, did we\nsearch diligently enough, we should find that in some place, or under some\ncircumstances, nearly every notable product of the past has assumed a\ndecorative character.\n\nAnd here the mention of historical pictures reminds me that an inference\nmay be drawn from all this, bearing directly on the practice of art. It has\nof late years been a frequent criticism upon our historical painters, that\nthey err in choosing their subjects from the past; and that, would they\nfound a genuine and vital school, they must render on canvas the life and\ndeeds and aims of our own time. If, however, there be any significance in\nthe foregoing facts, it seems doubtful whether this criticism is a just\none. For if it be the process of things, that what has performed some\npractical function in society during one era, becomes available for\nornament in a subsequent one; it almost follows that, conversely, whatever\nis performing some practical function now, or has very recently performed\none, does not possess the ornamental character; and is, consequently,\ninapplicable to any purpose of which beauty is the aim, or of which it is a\nneedful ingredient.\n\nStill more reasonable will this conclusion appear, when we consider the\nnature of this process by which the useful is changed into the ornamental.\nAn essential pre-requisite to all beauty is _contrast_. To obtain artistic\neffect, light must be put in juxtaposition with shade, bright colours with\ndull colours, a fretted surface with a plain one. _Forte_ passages in music\nmust have _piano_ passages to relieve them; concerted pieces need\ninterspersing with solos; and rich chords must not be continuously\nrepeated. In the drama we demand contrast of characters, of scenes, of\nsentiment, of style. In prose composition an eloquent passage should have a\ncomparatively plain setting; and in poems great effect is obtained by\noccasional change of versification. This general principle will, I think,\nexplain the transformation of the bygone useful into the present beautiful.\nIt is by virtue of their contrast with our present modes of life, that past\nmodes of life look interesting and romantic. Just as a picnic, which is a\ntemporary return to an aboriginal condition, derives, from its\nunfamiliarity, a certain poetry which it would not have were it habitual;\nso, everything ancient gains, from its relative novelty to us, an element\nof interest. Gradually as, by the growth of society, we leave behind the\ncustoms, manners, arrangements, and all the products, material and mental,\nof a bygone age--gradually as we recede from these so far that there arises\na conspicuous difference between them and those we are familiar with; so\ngradually do they begin to assume to us a poetical aspect, and become\napplicable for ornament. And hence it follows that things and events which\nare close to us, and which are accompanied by associations of ideas not\nmarkedly contrasted with our ordinary associations are relatively\ninappropriate for purposes of art.\n\n\n\n\nXII. THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES.\n\n\nWhen lately looking through the gallery of the Old Water-Colour Society, I\nwas struck with the incongruity produced by putting regular architecture\ninto irregular scenery. In one case, where the artist had introduced a\nperfectly symmetrical Grecian edifice into a mountainous and somewhat wild\nlandscape, the discordant effect was particularly marked. \"How very\nunpicturesque,\" said a lady to her friend, as they passed; showing that I\nwas not alone in my opinion. Her phrase, however, set me speculating. Why\nunpicturesque? Picturesque means, like a picture--like what men choose for\npictures. Why then should this be not fit for a picture?\n\nThinking the matter over, it seemed to me that the artist had sinned\nagainst that unity which is essential to a good picture. When the other\nconstituents of a landscape have irregular forms, any artificial structure\nintroduced must have an irregular form, that it may seem _part_ of the\nlandscape. The same general character must pervade it and surrounding\nobjects; otherwise it, and the scene amid which it stands, become not _one_\nthing but _two_ things; and we say it looks out of place. Or, speaking\npsychologically, the associated ideas called up by a building with its\nwings, windows, and all its parts symmetrically disposed, differ widely\nfrom the ideas associated with an entirely irregular landscape; and the one\nset of ideas tends to banish the other.\n\nPursuing the train of thought, sundry illustrative facts came to my mind. I\nremembered that a castle, which is more irregular in outline than any other\nkind of building, pleases us most when seated amid crags and precipices;\nwhile a castle on a plain seems an incongruity. The partly-regular and\npartly-irregular forms of our old farm-houses, and our gabled gothic manors\nand abbeys, appear quite in harmony with an undulating, wooded country. In\ntowns we prefer symmetrical architecture; and in towns it produces in us no\nfeeling of incongruity, because all surrounding things--men, horses,\nvehicles--are symmetrical also.\n\nAnd here I was reminded of a notion that has frequently recurred to me;\nnamely, that there is some relationship between the several kinds of\narchitecture and the several classes of natural objects. Buildings in the\nGreek and Roman styles seem, in virtue of their symmetry, to take their\ntype from animal life. In the partly-irregular Gothic, ideas derived from\nthe vegetable world appear to predominate. And wholly irregular buildings,\nsuch as castles, may be considered as having inorganic forms for their\nbasis.\n\nWhimsical as this speculation looks at first sight, it is countenanced by\nnumerous facts. The connexion between symmetrical architecture and animal\nforms, may be inferred from the _kind_ of symmetry we expect, and are\nsatisfied with, in regular buildings. Thus in a Greek temple we require\nthat the front shall be symmetrical in itself, and that the two flanks\nshall be alike; but we do not look for uniformity between the flanks and\nthe front, nor between the front and the back. The identity of this\nsymmetry with that found in animals is obvious. Again, why is it that a\nbuilding making any pretension to symmetry displeases us if not quite\nsymmetrical? Probably the reply will be--Because we see that the designer's\nidea is not fully carried out; and that hence our love of completeness is\noffended. But then there come the further questions--How do we know that\nthe architect's conception was symmetrical? Whence comes this notion of\nsymmetry which we have, and which we attribute to him? Unless we fall back\nupon the old doctrine of innate ideas, we must admit that the idea of\nbilateral symmetry is derived from without; and to admit this is to admit\nthat it is derived from the higher animals.\n\nThat there is some relationship between Gothic architecture and vegetable\nforms is a position generally admitted. The often-remarked analogy between\na groined nave and an avenue of trees with interlacing branches, shows that\nthe fact has forced itself on men's observation. It is not only in this\nanalogy, however, that the kinship is seen. It is seen still better in the\nessential characteristic of Gothic; namely, what is termed its _aspiring_\ntendency. That predominance of vertical lines which so strongly\ndistinguishes Gothic from other styles, is the most marked peculiarity of\ntrees, when compared with animals or rocks. To persons of active\nimagination, a tall Gothic tower, with its elongated apertures and clusters\nof thin projections running from bottom to top, suggests a vague notion of\ngrowth.\n\nOf the alleged connexion between inorganic forms and the wholly irregular\nand the castellated styles of building, we have, I think, some proof in the\nfact that when an edifice is irregular, the _more_ irregular it is the more\nit pleases us. I see no way of accounting for this fact, save by supposing\nthat the greater the irregularity the more strongly are we reminded of the\ninorganic forms typified, and the more vividly are aroused the agreeable\nideas of rugged and romantic scenery associated with those forms.\n\nFurther evidence of these several relationships of styles of architecture\nto classes of natural objects, is supplied by the kinds of decoration they\nrespectively represent. The public buildings of Greece, while characterized\nin their outlines by the bilateral symmetry seen in the higher animals,\nhave their pediments and entablatures covered with sculptured men and\nbeasts. Egyptian temples and Assyrian palaces, while similarly symmetrical\nin their general plan, are similarly ornamented on their walls and at their\ndoors. In Gothic, again, with its grove-like ranges of clustered columns,\nwe find rich foliated ornaments abundantly employed. And accompanying the\ntotally irregular, inorganic outlines of old castles, we see neither\nvegetable nor animal decorations. The bare, rock-like walls are surmounted\nby battlements, consisting of almost plain blocks, which remind us of the\nprojections on the edge of a rugged cliff.\n\nBut perhaps the most significant fact is the harmony that may be observed\nbetween each type of architecture and the scenes in which it is indigenous.\nFor what is the explanation of this harmony, unless it be that the\npredominant character of surrounding things has, in some way, determined\nthe mode of building adopted?\n\nThat the harmony exists is clear. Equally in the cases of Egypt, Assyria,\nGreece, and Rome, town life preceded the construction of the symmetrical\nbuildings that have come down to us. And town life is one in which, as\nalready observed, the majority of familiar objects are symmetrical. We\ninstinctively feel the naturalness of this association. Out amid the\nfields, a formal house, with a central door flanked by an equal number of\nwindows to right and left, strikes us as unrural--looks as though\ntransplanted from a street; and we cannot look at one of those stuccoed\nvillas, with mock windows carefully arranged to balance the real ones,\nwithout being reminded of the suburban residence of a retired tradesman.\n\nIn styles indigenous in the country, we not only find the general\nirregularity characteristic of surrounding things, but we may trace some\nkinship between each kind of irregularity and the local circumstances. We\nsee the broken rocky masses amid which castles are commonly placed,\nmirrored in their stern, inorganic forms. In abbeys, and such-like\nbuildings, which are commonly found in comparatively sheltered districts,\nwe find no such violent dislocations of masses and outlines; and the\nnakedness appropriate to the fortress is replaced by decorations reflecting\nthe neighbouring woods. Between a Swiss cottage and a Swiss view there is\nan evident relationship. The angular roof, so bold and so\ndisproportionately large when compared to other roofs, reminds one of the\nadjacent mountain peaks; and the broad overhanging eaves have a sweep and\ninclination like those of the lower branches of a pine tree. Consider, too,\nthe apparent kinship between the flat roofs that prevail in Eastern cities,\ninterspersed with occasional minarets, and the plains that commonly\nsurround them, dotted here and there by palm trees. You cannot contemplate\na picture of one of these places, without being struck by the predominance\nof horizontal lines, and their harmony with the wide stretch of the\nlandscape.\n\nThat the congruity here pointed out should hold in every case must not be\nexpected. The Pyramids, for example, do not seem to come under this\ngeneralization. Their repeated horizontal lines do indeed conform to the\nflatness of the neighbouring desert; but their general contour seems to\nhave no adjacent analogue. Considering, however, that migrating races,\ncarrying their architectural systems with them, would naturally produce\nbuildings having no relationship to their new localities; and that it is\nnot always possible to distinguish styles which are indigenous, from those\nwhich are naturalized; numerous anomalies must be looked for.\n\nThe general idea above illustrated will perhaps be somewhat misinterpreted.\nPossibly some will take the proposition to be that men _intentionally_ gave\nto their buildings the leading characteristics of neighbouring objects. But\nthis is not what is meant. I do not suppose that they did so in times past,\nany more than they do so now. The hypothesis is, that in their choice of\nforms men are unconsciously influenced by the forms encircling them. That\nflat-roofed, symmetrical architecture should have originated in the East,\namong pastoral tribes surrounded by their herds and by wide plains, seems\nto imply that the builders were swayed by the horizontality and symmetry to\nwhich they were habituated. And the harmony which we have found to exist in\nother cases between indigenous styles and their localities, implies the\ngeneral action of like influences. Indeed, on considering the matter\npsychologically, I do not see how it could well be otherwise. For as all\nconceptions must be made up of images, and parts of images, received\nthrough the senses--as it is impossible for a man to conceive any design\nsave one of which the elements have come into his mind from without; and as\nhis imagination will most readily run in the direction of his habitual\nperceptions; it follows, almost necessarily, that the characteristic which\npredominates in these habitual perceptions must impress itself on his\ndesign.\n\n\n\n\nXIII. THE USE OF ANTHROPOMORPHISM.\n\n\nThat long fit of indignation which seizes all generous natures when in\nyouth they begin contemplating human affairs, having fairly spent itself,\nthere slowly grows up a perception that the institutions, beliefs, and\nforms so vehemently condemned are not wholly bad. This reaction runs to\nvarious lengths. In some, merely to a comparative contentment with the\narrangements under which they live. In others to a recognition of the\nfitness that exists between each people and its government, tyrannical as\nthat may be. In some, again, to the conviction, that hateful though it is\nto us, and injurious as it would be now, slavery was once beneficial--was\none of the necessary phases of human progress. Again, in others, to the\nsuspicion that great benefit has indirectly arisen from the perpetual\nwarfare of past times; insuring as this did the spread of the strongest\nraces, and so providing good raw material for civilization. And in a few\nthis reaction ends in the generalization that all modes of human thought\nand action subserve, in the times and places in which they occur, some\nuseful function: that though bad in the abstract, they are relatively\ngood--are the best which the then existing conditions admit of.\n\nA startling conclusion to which this faith in the essential beneficence of\nthings commits us, is that the religious creeds through which mankind\nsuccessively pass, are, during the eras in which they are severally held,\nthe best that could be held; and that this is true, not only of the latest\nand most refined creeds, but of all, even to the earliest and most gross.\nThose who regard men's faiths as given to them from without--as having\norigins either directly divine or diabolical, and who, considering their\nown as the sole example of the one, class all the rest under the other,\nwill think this a very shocking opinion. I can imagine, too, that many of\nthose who have abandoned current theologies, and now regard religions as so\nmany natural products of human nature--men who, having lost that antagonism\ntowards their old creed which they felt while shaking themselves free from\nit, can now see that it was highly beneficial to past generations, and is\nbeneficial still to a large part of mankind;--I can imagine even these\nhardly prepared to admit that all religions, down to the lowest Fetichism,\nhave, in their places, fulfilled useful functions. If such, however, will\nconsistently develop their ideas, they will find this inference involved.\n\nFor if it be true that humanity in its corporate as well as in its\nindividual aspect, is a growth and not a manufacture, it is obvious that\nduring each phase men's theologies, as well as their political and social\narrangements, must be determined into such forms as the conditions require.\nIn the one case as in the other, by a tentative process, things from time\nto time re-settle themselves in a way that best consists with national\nequilibrium. As out of plots and the struggles of chieftains, it\ncontinually results that the strongest gets to the top, and by virtue of\nhis proved superiority ensures a period of quiet, and gives society time to\ngrow; as out of incidental expedients there periodically arise new\ndivisions of labour, which get permanently established only by serving\nmen's wants better than the previous arrangements did; so, the creed which\neach period evolves is one more in conformity with the needs of the time\nthan the creed which preceded it. Not to rest in general statements,\nhowever, let us consider why this must be so. Let us see whether, in the\ngenesis of men's ideas of deity, there is not involved a necessity to\nconceive of deity under the aspect most influential with them.\n\nIt is now generally admitted that a more or less idealized humanity is the\nform which every conception of a personal God must take. Anthropomorphism\nis an inevitable result of the laws of thought. We cannot take a step\ntowards constructing an idea of God without the ascription of human\nattributes. We cannot even speak of a divine will without assimilating the\ndivine nature to our own; for we know nothing of volition save as a\nproperty of our own minds.\n\nWhile this anthropomorphic tendency, or rather necessity, is manifested by\nthemselves with sufficient grossness--a grossness that is offensive to\nthose more advanced--Christians are indignant at the still grosser\nmanifestations of it seen among uncivilized men. Certainly, such\nconceptions as those of some Polynesians, who believe that their gods feed\non the souls of the dead, or as those of the Greeks, who ascribed to the\npersonages of their Pantheon every vice, from domestic cannibalism\ndownward, are repulsive enough. But if, ceasing to regard these notions\nfrom the outside, we more philosophically regard them from the inside--if\nwe consider how they looked to believers, and observe the relationships\nthey bore to the natures and needs of such; we shall begin to think of them\nwith some tolerance. The question to be answered is, whether these beliefs\nwere beneficent in their effects on those who held them; not whether they\nwould be beneficent for us, or for perfect men; and to this question the\nanswer must be that while absolutely bad, they were relatively good.\n\nFor is it not obvious that the savage man will be most effectually\ncontrolled by his fears of a savage deity? Must it not happen, that if his\nnature requires great restraint, the supposed consequences of\ntransgression, to be a check upon him, must be proportionately terrible;\nand for these to be proportionately terrible, must not his god be conceived\nas proportionately cruel and revengeful? Is it not well that the\ntreacherous, thievish, lying Hindoo should believe in a hell where the\nwicked are boiled in cauldrons, rolled down mountains bristling with\nknives, and sawn asunder between flaming iron posts? And that there may be\nprovided such a hell, is it not needful that he should believe in a\ndivinity delighting in human immolations and the self-torture of fakirs?\nDoes it not seem clear that during the earlier ages in Christendom, when\nmen's feelings were so hard that a holy father could describe one of the\ndelights of heaven to be the contemplation of the torments of the\ndamned--does it not seem clear that while the general nature was so\nunsympathetic, there needed, to keep men in order, all the prospective\ntortures described by Dante, and a deity implacable enough to inflict them?\n\nAnd if, as we thus see, it is well for the savage man to believe in a\nsavage god, then we may also see the great usefulness of this\nanthropomorphic tendency; or, as before said, necessity. We have in it\nanother illustration of that essential beneficence of things visible\neverywhere throughout nature. From this inability under which we labour to\nconceive of a deity save as some idealization of ourselves, it inevitably\nresults that in each age, among each people, and to a great extent in each\nindividual, there must arise just that conception of deity best adapted to\nthe needs of the case. If, being violent and bloodthirsty, the nature be\none calling for stringent control, it evolves the idea of a ruler still\nmore violent and bloodthirsty, and fitted to afford this control. When, by\nages of social discipline, the nature has been partially humanized, and the\ndegree of restraint required has become less, the diabolical\ncharacteristics before ascribed to the deity cease to be so predominant in\nthe conception of him. And gradually, as all need for restraint disappears,\nthis conception approximates towards that of a purely beneficent necessity.\nThus, man's constitution is in this, as in other respects, self-adjusting,\nself-balancing. The mind itself evolves a compensating check to its own\nmovements; varying always in proportion to the requirement. Its centrifugal\nand its centripetal forces are necessarily in correspondence, because the\none generates the other. And so we find that the forms of both religious\nand secular rule follow the same law. As an ill-controlled national\ncharacter produces a despotic terrestrial government, so also does it\nproduce a despotic celestial government--the one acting through the senses,\nthe other through the imagination; and in the converse case the same\nrelationship holds good.\n\nOrganic as this relationship is in its origin, no artificial interference\ncan permanently affect it. Whatever perturbations an external agency may\nseem to produce, they are soon neutralized in fact, if not in appearance. I\nwas recently struck with this in reading a missionary account of the\n\"gracious visitations of the Holy Spirit at Vewa,\" one of the Feejee\nislands. Describing a \"penitent meeting,\" the account says:--\n\n  \"Certainly the feelings of the Vewa people were not ordinary. They\n  literally roared for hours together for the disquietude of their\n  souls. This frequently terminated in fainting from exhaustion, which\n  was the only respite some of them had till they found peace. They no\n  sooner recovered their consciousness than they prayed themselves\n  first into an agony, then again into a state of entire\n  insensibility.\"\n\nNow these Feejee islanders are the most savage of all the uncivilized\nraces. They are given to cannibalism, infanticide, and human sacrifices;\nthey are so bloodthirsty and so treacherous, that members of the same\nfamily dare not trust each other; and, in harmony with these\ncharacteristics, they have for their aboriginal god, a serpent. Is it not\nclear then, that these violent emotions which the missionaries describe,\nthese terrors and agonies of despair which they rejoiced over, were nothing\nbut the worship of the old god under a new name? Is it not clear that these\nFeejees had simply understood those parts of the Christian creed which\nagree in spirit with their own--the vengeance, the perpetual torments, the\ndiabolism of it; that these, harmonizing with their natural conceptions of\ndivine rule, were realized by them with extreme vividness; and that the\nextremity of the fear which made them \"literally roar for hours together,\"\narose from the fact that while they could fully take in and believe the\npunitive element, the merciful one was beyond their comprehension? This is\nthe obvious inference. And it carries with it the further one, that in\nessence their new belief was merely their old one under a new form--the\nsame substantial conception with a different history and different names.\n\nHowever great, therefore, may be the seeming change adventitiously produced\nin a people's religion, the anthropomorphic tendency prevents it from being\nother than a superficial change--insures such modifications of the new\nreligion as to give it all the potency of the old one--obscures whatever\nhigher elements there may be in it until the people have reached the\ncapability of being acted upon by them: and so, re-establishes the\nequilibrium between the impulses and the control they need. If any one\nrequires detailed illustrations of this, he will find them in abundance in\nthe history of the modifications of Christianity throughout Europe.\n\nCeasing then to regard heathen theologies from the personal point of view,\nand considering them solely with reference to the function they fulfil\nwhere they are indigenous, we must recognise them in common with all\ntheologies, as good for their time and places; and this mental necessity\nwhich disables us from conceiving a deity save as some idealization of\nourselves, we must recognise as the agency by which harmony is produced and\nmaintained between every phase of human character and its religious creed.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\nA\n\n  Abstract and concrete, relations of, 174.\n\n  Actions, voluntary and involuntary, 319.\n\n  Analogies of the rudest societies to the lowest forms of life, 398,\n    402.\n\n  Analogies of function between living beings and societies, 410.\n\n  Annulosa, structure of compared to that of nations, 408, 422.\n\n  Anthropomorphism, necessity of, 422.\n\n  Architectural ideas, origin of, 439.\n\n  Architecture, relationship to natural objects, 435; illustrations of,\n    435-437; town, why symmetrical, 435; country, why irregular, 437.\n\n  Arts, interconnexion of, 187.\n\n  Astronomic influences upon climate produce breaks in geological\n    succession, 356.\n\n  Automatic actions of men and governments, 426.\n\n  Australia, fauna of, 350.\n\n\nB\n\n  Bain \"On the Emotions and Will,\" estimate of, 302.\n\n  Beauty, its evolution from utility, 429, 433.\n\n  Beliefs, how to judge of them, 442.\n\n  Bow, derivation of the, 78.\n\n  Breaks in the geological record, Hugh Miller upon, 355; produced by\n    astronomic causes, 356; by re-distributions of land and sea, 359.\n\n  Buildings related to landscape, 438; cause of incongruities in, 438;\n    relation unintentional, 439.\n\n\nC\n\n  Cambrian rocks, inference from their thickness, 366.\n\n  Calculus, origin of, 158.\n\n  Castles, built with no reference to art, 430.\n\n  Cause, single, produces more than one effect, 32; illustrated in\n    geological phenomena, 35; in chemical, 40; in organic evolution,\n    42; in social progress, 50; in use of locomotive engine, 53.\n\n  Central America, effects of subsidence of, 38.\n\n  Centrifugal force and condensation, 287.\n\n  Cerebrum, analogy of to houses of parliament, 423, 426.\n\n  Circulation in animal bodies and bodies politic, 410, 411; rates of\n    movement in, 417; of money and blood-discs, 414.\n\n  Classifications of science, progress of, 183; what they indicate,\n    125; Oken's, 125; Hegel's, 128; Comte's, 131; serial arrangement\n    vicious, 144.\n\n  Classification, the mental process in, 147; advances with\n    rationality, 157; how it has aided science, 182; of the cognitions,\n    321; of the feelings, 323; in Psychology, for the present must be\n    provisional, 300, 301.\n\n  Climate, changes in, produced by astronomic rhythm, 356; by\n    re-distributions of land and sea, 359.\n\n  Comets, formation of, 256; orbits of, 258; distribution of, 259, 261.\n\n  Common knowledge, nature of, 117; relation of, to science, 118, 122.\n\n  Comte's hierarchy of the sciences, 131.\n\n  Consciousness, mystery of, 197.\n\n  Condensation of nebula, 250.\n\n  Contrast, its relation to beauty, 432.\n\n  Creeds suited to the age that holds them, 441, 443.\n\n  Curtsy, origin of, 79.\n\n\nD\n\n  Densities of the planets, 278-280.\n\n  Development hypothesis, neither proved nor disproved by Paleontology,\n    367, 376; defense of, 379.\n\n  Direct creation inconceivable, 378; no examples of, 377; origin of\n    the notion, 383.\n\n\nE\n\n  Earth, internal constitution of, 290.\n\n  Earth's crust, 5; contraction of, 35.\n\n  Ectoderm social and embryonic, 419.\n\n  Education, bearing of evolution of science upon, 193.\n\n  Emotions in animals, genesis of, 315.\n\n  Emotional language, 232; importance of, 235, 238.\n\n  Engine, locomotive, results of invention of, 53.\n\n  Equality, origin of notion of, 152,158; of things and relations, 153.\n\n  Evolution of the emotions, 311.\n\n  Evolution of governmental and nervous structures, 420.\n\n\nF\n\n  Fashion, origin of, 90; corruption of, 91.\n\n  Feeling and action, relation of, 199, 208.\n\n  Feeling, mystery of, 197; effects of surplus in producing laughter,\n    201; why it disturbs the intellect, 207.\n\n  Feeling a stimulus to muscular action, 211, 220; shown in loudness of\n    voice, 215; in quality or timbre, 215; in pitch, 216; in intervals,\n    217; in variability of pitch, 219; relation of, to vocal sounds in\n    ourselves, 220; in others, 220; causes prostration, 222;\n    classification of the feelings, 323.\n\n  Feejee islanders, penitent meeting among, 444.\n\n  Final cause, 262, 272, 275, 293.\n\n  Fossils as tests of age and position, 339, 347.\n\n  Function of music, 231-235.\n\n\nG\n\n  Generalizations, premature, use of, 323; as seen in history of\n    Astronomy, 326; in Geology, 327.\n\n  Genesis of new emotions in civilization, 313; in animals, 315.\n\n  Geological evidence, value of, 8.\n\n  Geologic \"systems,\" are they universal? 335-339.\n\n  Geometry, origin of, 158, 167.\n\n  God, origin of the conception of, 65.\n\n  Gothic architecture, source of, 435, 436.\n\n  Government, rise of, 12, 69, 92; three-fold nature of, 13, 65, 83;\n    separation of civil from religious, 69; early need of severe, 85;\n    progressive amelioration of, 88; course of all, 114; results from\n    national character, 387.\n\n  Great men, relation of to social changes, 388.\n\n  Greek and Roman architecture, derivation of, 435.\n\n\nH\n\n  Heathen theologies, estimate of, 44.\n\n  Heat of heavenly bodies, source of, 292.\n\n  Hegel's classification of philosophy, 128.\n\n  History as commonly studied, small, value of, 385.\n\n  Hobb's parallelism of society and the human body, 389.\n\n  Homogeneous, change of to heterogeneous, 3; seen in genesis of solar\n    system, 3; in phenomena of earth's crust, 5; in the advance of life\n    in general, 7; in the progress of man, 10; in growth of\n    civilization, 12; in government, 13; in language, 17; in painting\n    and sculpture, 20; in poetry, music, and dancing, 24; cause of this\n    universal change, 32.\n\n  Hutton's geological system, 327; contrast of the modern with, 330.\n\n  Hydra compared with primitive tribes, 401, 407, 412, 420.\n\n  Hydrozoa, analogies of, 401, 403, 412.\n\n\nI\n\n  Industrial organization, 385.\n\n  Industrial arrangements, development of compared with that of the\n    alimentary organs, 410.\n\n  Insensible modifications effect great changes, 379; illustrated by\n    geometrical curves, 318; by physiological development, 382.\n\n  Internal structure of sun and planets, 281-286.\n\n\nK\n\n  King's councils compared to ganglia, 421, 423.\n\n  Knowledge, experience the source of all, 126; relations of various\n    kinds of, 167.\n\n\nL\n\n  Language, differentiation of, 17; origin of written, 18; origin of\n    verbal, 149; origin of emotional, 220.\n\n  La Place's theory of planetary evolution, 263-265.\n\n  Laughter, common explanations of, 194; movements in, 200; groups of\n    muscles successively affected in, 201; caused by incongruities,\n    203; facilitates digestion, 207.\n\n  Law, origin of, 70.\n\n  Likeness and unlikeness, recognition of, the basis of classification,\n    147; the basis of language, 149; of reasoning, 150; of art, 151;\n    leads to science, 152.\n\n  Logic, how evolved, 158.\n\n  Lyell, Sir Charles, criticism upon, 338, 342.\n\n\nM\n\n  Man, progress of, 10.\n\n  Manners, genesis of, 77; decline of the influence of, 89; conformity\n    in manners leads to extravagance, 99; conformity in, decreases\n    social intercourse, 100; defeats the true end of social life, 102,\n    107.\n\n  Mathematics, how evolved, 158.\n\n  Mechanics, rise of science of, 168.\n\n  Mineral qualities of rocks untrustworthy tests of age or position,\n    332.\n\n  Miller Hugh, estimate of, 352.\n\n  Motion of nebulous matter, 251-253.\n\n  Morality, origin of, 70.\n\n  Muscular movements, cause of, 195; arrested by feeling, 199; in\n    laughter purposeless, 201; of animals when excited, 211; variations\n    of, produce changes of voice, 214.\n\n  Music, increasing heterogeneity of, 26; relation of mental to\n    muscular excitement, the source of, 214; theory of, 221-224; its\n    history confirms the theory, 224-228; negative proof of theory of,\n    228-231.\n\n  Murchison Sir R. I., criticism upon his \"Siluria,\" 332, 340, 363,\n    366.\n\n\nN\n\n  Nebula, are they parts of our siderial system? 243, 249; condensation\n    of, 250; motion in, 251; significance of forms of, 254; structure\n    of spiral, 254.\n\n  Nebular hypothesis, 3, 34; its high derivation, 239; it explains\n    cometary phenomena, 262.\n\n  Negative facts in geology, small value of, 362-365.\n\n  Nervous system, effects of excitement in, 195; directions of\n    discharge of excitement in, 197; course of discharge unguided by\n    purpose, 201.\n\n  Number, origin of conception of, 154.\n\n\nO\n\n  Oken's classification of knowledge, 125.\n\n\nP\n\n  Painting and sculpture, origin of, 20.\n\n  Paleontology neither proves nor disproves development, 367, 376.\n\n  Picturesque, meaning of, 433.\n\n  Planetoids, origin of 289.\n\n  Plato's model republic, central idea of, 388.\n\n  Previsions and ordinary knowledge, 117; previsions known as science,\n    118; common and scientific, 123; when quantitative arose, 158;\n    increase in precision, 171.\n\n  Primary divisions of a germ and of a society, 404-407.\n\n  Progress, current meaning of, 1; present inquiry concerning, 2; law\n    of progress exemplified in the genesis of solar system, 3; in the\n    phenomena of the earth's crust, 5; in the advance of life in\n    general, 7; in the history of man, 10; in the growth of\n    civilization, 12; in government, 13; in language, 17; in painting\n    and sculpture, 20; in poetry, music, and dancing, 24; statement of\n    the principle which determines progress of every kind, 32; the\n    principle of progress illustrated in geological phenomena, 35; in\n    chemical, 40; in organic evolution, 42; in social advancement, 50;\n    in use of locomotive engine, 54; this principle does not explain\n    things in themselves, 58; progress of science, 141; of astronomical\n    discovery, 165, 171.\n\n  Progress of animals and societies in forming channels of\n    communication, 416.\n\n  Psychology, relation of English thought to, 301; classification in,\n    for the present, must be provisional, 300, 301.\n\n\nR\n\n  Reasoning, nature of, 150; basis of, 154; advances with\n    classification, 157.\n\n  Reformers, eccentricities of, 61; why necessary, 93; not selfish, 95,\n    97; difficulties of social, 110.\n\n  Reform, how is it to be effected? 111.\n\n  Religion aided by inquiry, 58.\n\n  Religious ideas, account of primitive, 66.\n\n\nS\n\n  Saturn, rings of, 276.\n\n  Satellites, distribution of, 272-276.\n\n  Savage men need a savage deity, 443.\n\n  Science, limits of, 58; definition of, 119; when complete, 120; test\n    of the depth of, 122; slow growth of, 123; duplex progress of, 141;\n    ultimate analysis of exact, 160.\n\n  Sciences, early simultaneous advance of, 165; not independent of each\n    other, 186; aid each other by analogies, 181; mutual influence of\n    modern, 178.\n\n  Sculpture and painting, origin of, 20.\n\n  Solar System, movements of planets on their axes in, 267-271.\n\n  Strata now forming, lithological differences in, 347; differences in\n    the order of superposition of, 348; differences in the organic\n    remains of, 349.\n\n  Societies and individual organisms, points of agreement between,\n    391-393; differences of, examined, 393-397.\n\n  Social intercourse, philosophy of, 105.\n\n  Social changes, true source of, 386.\n\n  Spectrum analysis, 295.\n\n  Spiral nebula, 255.\n\n  Steam-engine, multiplied effects of, 53.\n\n  Sun, constitution of, 294, 296; relation of plane of its equator to\n    plane of planetary orbits, 266.\n\n\nT\n\n  Telegraph wires, comparison of to nerves, 427.\n\n  Titles, derivation of, 72; depreciation of, 74.\n\n  Truth, ultimate test of, 130.\n\n\nU\n\n  Useful passes into the beautiful, 430, 433.\n\n\nV\n\n  Voice, cause of loudness of, 215; cause of quality of, 215; of pitch\n    of, 216; intervals in, 217; variability of the pitch of, 219.\n\n  Voluntary and involuntary actions, 319.\n\n\nW\n\n  Werner's system of Geology, 328; contrast of, with the modern system,\n    330.\n\n\n                               THE END.","title":"Illustrations of Universal Progress: A Series of Discussions","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":147700}